It was late, or early. The shifter had been playing a gig into the late hours of the night and he was having such a good time he lost track of time. It was Friday and he only had biology and a few other less important classes. Music theory? Right, most practical class ever. He’d spend time playing the guitar during that time anyways not like he had to be there ‘there’ for it.

The shifter opened up the heavy bar door and looked up to the sky and determined it was morning. He smelled like a bar, which made sense because he fell asleep in it. Not a lot of places allowed a musician to crash the night let alone drink when no one was there but apparently he had stacked up some credit with frosty the X-man. So much so the manager allowed him to ‘lock up’ the door locked itself so all he had to do was make sure the door didn’t hit him on the way out.

Staggering forward a little he stretched his back and yawned lifting the recently filled flask (one of his few treasures) to his lips and took a little swig to take the edge off. He did some drinking last night with a few of the bikers, they were.... interesting. They paid for everything by the end of the night and with him finishing the gig he even made a little extra cash.

“Carrick O’Conner!” the shifter heard his name and jumped a little. Someone in a black car rolled up as someone approached him from behind. ”Never heard of him.” the person in question was a serious looking man with a jacket that read S.U.P.E.R. ”Ahhh.... what can I do fer ya. Hows the moms? Good?” the moms were Sabine and Pippa both of who out of the goodness of their hearts were trying to keep him from going to jail after a shouting match.

“They sent me to collect you. You were supposed to meet at the training facility at 0500.” ”Yeah, five. I got it. Little early no? Got Gryphon stuff to do today. School to sleep through, hoards to protect. That jazz. Tell ‘em I’ll be there.” it was his first session of training with them. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Carrick sipped from his flask, “It’s 0600 now...” ”Is it?” he looked around up to the sky, ”Can’t be six pm. It’s got ta be morning. The place would have been open by now.” he said thumbing to the Sam’s bar behind him.

After some time and arguing Carrick sighed and flew to the training grounds for the S.U.P.E.R. agents. A building he never been to before. The agent who collected him slammed the car door as he managed to pull up as Carrick landed. ”Ya owe me a fiver, I beat ya here.” he said smirking adjusting his sunglasses and stifling a yawn. ”This place got coffee?”

As someone the United States government spent some untold and none too small fortune training, Ranger felt it only fair he provide more than just a return on that investment by working for SUPER. When asked to help train the odd newcomer, Ranger considered that paying dividends.

Training Carrick, the griffon he had brought down in the park, was not who Ranger had expected SUPER to ask him to train. If the training helped keep innocents from running across an angry griffon, he was happy to help

Carrick showing up an hour late to the first session however did not help keep Ranger happy.

"Black. As God intended." Ranger said in answer to the griffon's question as he walked out the door, "Y're late, an' y' look like the hell I'm about t' put y' through."

”Oh, the good stuff then!” Carrick said pushing his sunglasses up to the man who shot him a while back. None of the forms forgot that face even if only one actually met him. ”Ah fer **** sakes. You?” he asked looking back to the agent who was already getting in the vehicle to drive away.

”l was gonna say he could host the training he hasn’t shot me yet.” eyeing the man through tinted sunglasses looking him up and down. He wasn’t much bigger than the shifter but he recalled what his beast form thought of him and smirked. ‘Flight!’

”Hell? Nah, what do you know about being an Irish musician on St. Patty's day?” if it wasn’t for him using his last guitar as a weapon it would have still had some vomit in it. Americans...

”He said five. Only a little late.” Carrick said standing up straight, ”Oh, Special Agent Carrick reporting fer duty!” there was a minute where he debated to salute the man but then decided not to. He was trying to stay out of jail, even with a hangover this couldn’t be that bad.

Ranger smiled when Carrick turned and saw who had addressed him. ”Howdy again there, friend.”

”It was only a little night-night juice. I’m sure anyone here’d be happy to reacquaint y’ f’r the sake of trainin’. I’d rather we move past it an’ do some real trainin’.” Sans guns. Ranger had been instructed that Carrick wasn’t being trained on firearms. Ranger understood the unsaid ‘yet’. Can’t be a well rounded agent if you don’t know how to work your way around at least an M4 and a sidearm.

”I imagine it’s like bein’ in a fist fight in a foxhole in the rain while people are shootin’ around y’. Only, with music an’ whiskey.” Ranger shrugged, ”Sounds like a good time ‘til y’ wake up the next mornin’.”

”Off by one twenty-fourth is only good in horseshoes an’ hand grenades. Regardless, good t’ finally have y’ here, Special Agent Carrick. Follow me.” Ranger waved at Carrick to follow him and turned to enter the building.

”I know what I’ve been tasked t’ teach y’, but what’re y’ lookin’ t’ learn. If it’s relevant t’ work here an’ idn’t paperwork I can likely show y’ a thing ‘re two.” Ranger pointed down a hall, ”We’re this way.”

Howdy... Carrick mulled over the words for a moment then decided not to say anything about it or the man’s southern drawl. He was trying to stay out of jail. He didn’t do cages. Not anymore. ”So I get to shoot you and we’ll call it square?” Carrick asked his tail flicking behind him as he lowered his glasses and stared at the guy before pushing them back up. He wouldn’t get hit again by the dart. Probably because it be a new dart but still it wasn't going to be an easy shot again.

”Understood about half of that,” he said honestly scratching the back of his head stifling a yawn. ”Whiskey, and music I can do fer sure.” he nodded his head tempted to belt out a song from last night or create a new one on the spot about early training sessions. Or late ones... What time was it? He was tempted to take off his glasses then added, ”and I sleep till noon. No worry bout a hangover.” he said offering his instructor a thumbs up.

It was nowhere near noon now. Maybe he was hungover. Another yawn and Carrick followed the man with a little pep in his step after hearing him repeat Carrick’s self given title so much so he even mouthed the words and went off in his own little world for a moment. Could he pull off a suit? His wings and tails shifted and moved in protest and he focused back to the other agent.

”I.. Don't do paperwork?” he asked not sure, no one gave him the specifics on what he was supposed to do other than ‘don’t maul people’ so far Carrick had been doing great at that task... if anyone asked. Because there were no reports of the rescue of his girlfriend.

”Dunno, figured I’d be getting me piece.” he said holding up a hand and pretending it was a gun as they walked down the halls. Carrick ducked low and followed after the man who he still didn’t know. ”Ya know me name? What do I call the guy that shot me?” he asked studying the walk of the man and trying to imitate it. How else was he supposed to learn how to be an agent?

Ranger smirked, ”Bullets only run downhill, friend” Not that it was likely Carrick could hurt him with anything Ranger would let him fire.

”Whiskey an’ music’re great. Sleepin’ ‘til noon, well. Those days ‘re numbered. Don’t worry though. We have a great hangover cure here.” Ranger said before looking at Carrick and adding, ”How’re you with needles? Nah, doesn’t matter. You’ll get used t’ ‘em. Nothin’ like some Ringer’s lactate t’ get y’ goin’ in the mornin’.”

Carrick questioned about him not doing paperwork. Ranger shrugged, ”I hired an eight year old t’ do mine. No one seemed t’ notice yet. You… Can talk t’ someone up the chain about paperwork. “

”Ehh, well. We’ll see about gettin’ y’ a sidearm. Not t’day though.” Ranger opened a door for Carrick leading into a decently sized training space with the padding, assorted martial arts training weapons, and a very prominently placed first aid kit. ” I’m Agent Michael Hunter. Nice t’ meet y’ in this much calmer circumstance.”

That’s twice the man called him friend. When the Texan said again there was visible distrust. Not because bullets flew, they didn’t roll and two... well Carrick didn’t really view the man as a friend. More of an acquaintance. If they were friends Carrick would have shot the man already. ”I thought they flew straight?”

”Emmm?” Carrick asked suddenly more skeptical about his role here. No sleeping till noon? They all knew he was a third car right!?!? His tail flicked irritably behind him as he followed the man named... ”Needles? That’s the cure?” he looked to his arms and thought of all the people he played with that had a substance problem. Carrick only ever drew the line at drinking and smoking. Anything else to him was a slippery slope.

”Yer joking right? Needles? Is that what we do here?” he asked before realizing the name of the cocktail the man was willing to offer. ”Ranger’s lactate? That sounds like a sexual harassment case waiting ta happen. I’ll stick ta hair of the dog if it’s all the same.” he knew it wouldn’t be. His other forms didn’t do needles meaning neither did the Irishman.

”She freelance? Probably neater handwriting too.” Carrick asked following the man till he opened the door. His head was the first to poke through the door frame. Something about the room made him feel uneasy. It... seemed like... there was going to be work to be done.

‘Flee?’

Ignoring his instincts he followed... ”Ya messing with me?!? Mike Hunter?” his accent might have slurred the words making it more clear what he was thinking. ”Did you changer yer name?” he asked looking to the man not wanting to piss the guy off who had shot him once already but couldn’t help himself poke fun at the name. ”Christ, thought I had it bad with Carrick!” he grabbed his side a little to chuckle. ”Mike Hunt!” his extra appendages shook with laughter.

”Sorry... couldn’t help it. Wasn’t expecting a name like that. I’m sure ya got a wicked sense of humor.” looking around the room he wanted to agree with the man but doubted he’d feel the same way after the ‘training’ session. ”Right, just glad yer not pointing a gun at me again. Any other situation is grand one indeed.” his tail flicked as he studied the room.

”So did ya pick out the montage music yet? Or is it my choice?” Carrick asked lowering his sunglasses and looking around at the pads and weapons. His mind already looking to the nearest exit that wasn’t blocked.

Ranger ignored Carrick’s question. He’d eventually figure out it was a modified idiom or he wouldn’t. Either way, it was a good primer for the mixed metaphors and military expressions Carrick was going to have to figure out.

”An IV. The cure f’r a hangover is an IV. Ringer’s lactate is like saline’s cousin. The one who scores better on tests but doesn’t like showin’ off so nobody knows how smart he is.” Ranger shrugged, ”Cain’t let y’ use hair ‘f the dog. Need y’ t’ have all y’r wits about y’. Nothin’ more than a work beer in y’. I have some Armadillo Piss aroun’ here somewhere.” Sideshow had bought Ranger four cases of LoneStar beer. Ranger was giving the swill away to anyone he could.

Ranger nodded his head. Carrick was not the first nor would he be the last to make the joke about his name. ”At least Mike Hunt sounds like we’re talkin’ about somethin’ powerful. Carrick sounds like someone named y’ while bent over a toilet after a three week bender.”

”I’m the DJ f’r this.” Ranger pulled out his phone and turned on the sound system. It was government issued meh. ”Let’s see how much of it y’ hear over this beat. Dodge.”

Ranger went from casual to aggression in the time it took to toss his phone aside. As it slid across a table his fist flew at Carrick. ”First lesson. Be polite, be professional, but have a plan t’ kill everybody you meet”

The shifters head went up as Mike Hunt explained futher. ”Ah!” that was what he meant. That made a lot more sense for a government agency that had the power to make him an intern and keep him out of prison for ‘allegedly’ mauling someone. ”I’ll stick with the work beer.” the shifter finally decided. ”Hold the piss though. Already got en ough of that in me.”

His bushy lion’s tail flicked behind him as they exchanged friendly jabs at each others names, ”Heh, don’t insult me mother like that...” he flashed his teeth with a dramatic pause before adding, ”it was easily a five week bender.” in truth his mother stopped drinking when she realized she was first pregnant and never touched the stuff again. Maybe it was a hell of a bender that resulted in his name.

The music started to play, pointed ears twitched to welcome the sound of the guitar and it only took a second for him to realize that it was a country song. ”Oh...” his tail dropped behind him a little in disappointment. However that disappointment was short lived, very short lived for the lesson already started it seemed.

‘Flee!’

Carrick mentally kept the notes as they were given to him before he realized there was a lag in his instincts because when he got the feeling to run he was already falling to the ground. Everything was black for a moment before light rushed back in to view and he staggered catching himself from face planting.

His pupils dilated turning to cat like slits as they adjusted to the light again and Carrick started to curse, ”**** I’m just an intern.” this was work place harassment right? ”Hit harder than me da.” there was a low rumble in his chest that could be mistaken for a growl.

”Got it. We’re fighting.” ‘Flee!’ his teeth clenched as he felt the surge of a shift start. He was losing control again. He thought of the princess and tried to calm down, she was the only one who could control him. Taking his sunglasses off he tossed them to the side where the phone was playing. His facial expression looked contorted as if he was in pain.

”Dodge... right.” Carrick cracked his neck and brought his hands up to his face. Why did he have to drink the night before? Other than the fact it was free. ”My problem is I always have a plan ta kill everyone I meet. How I got this gig in the first place. Ya shot me.” the growl got louder.

The change from jokes to punches had to have been jarring for Carrick, but that was the point. While working for SUPER everything could go pear shaped at the drop of a hat. Ranger needed to make sure he was ready for that.

The hit connected and Carrick went down. Ranger hadn’t put a lot of power behind the strike, instead he used biology against Carrick. There are certain places that when hit will drop the person like a sack of potatoes. Large nerves in the jaw, the nose, the brachial artery.

”An intern I was tasked with training. Be glad I’m not tryin’ t’ hurt y’.” It was clear the cheap shot had engaged Carrick’s griffon side.

”Yes. Today we’re fightin’.” Ranger nodded and let Carrick stand up and take a stance. All the while he stood there casually, like nothing had happened. ”Y’ might think y’ do, but y’ must not’ve planned f’r me an’ I shot y’.” Ranger threw another punch. This punch had form and speed. The first was cheap and lacked fire, the second had intent behind it as Carrick knew it was coming. ”Second lesson. Keep calm under fire. Keep the bird in an’ don’t let me hit y’ ‘til the song ends.” Ranger threw another punch and followed up with a roundhouse kick.

”bE gLaD I’m not tRyIng tA hURt yA.” Carrick muttered to himself loud enough for the Texan to hear. It was sassy and it came with all the head bobbing as he spoke. Carrick always had two things before he could start cashing the checks his mouth brought him, the inability to shut up when he needed to and a quip.

‘Kill!’

The quip had to wait, Carrick was doing everything he could to keep himself from shifting. Someone wanted out, and Carrick didn’t want that to happen. Mauling the trainer might be found upon in the S.U.P.E.R. intern handbook, which he still didn’t know if it was a thing. Not that he’d read it anyways. Carrick hated homework.

‘Dodge!’

He blocked. Carrick closed his forearms to the punch and roared as he felt the impact, no doubt heavy bruising was in his future. At least when his da hit him it wasn’t in the face. The roar deafened on the padded walls and floor. ”Beasty was distracted.” he recalled. The fight was to protect the princess after all. Who could have guessed the reason they got so close was the thing the thief had been trying to shut out the most.

”Ya already hit me. Doesn’t that mean I lost?” Carrick didn’t like losing. Shaking his forearms out he saw the next attack coming for him and flapped his wings backwards creating more distance between the two helping to avoid the roundhouse that defiantly would have connected.

The room wasn’t big. In fact if his trainer jumped he would have been able to hit him. ”I’m trying ta. You keep trying ta hit me, and the bird I got control of.” Carrick made sure to keep some distance between them while still airborne.

Carrick blocked, not quite a dodge but Ranger counted it. A block meant it wasn’t a strike to the face or somewhere where Carrick could be seriously injured.

”Think I couldn’t shoot the beast if it wadn’t distracted?” Ranger chuckled as he continued his onslaught. ”Hopefully we won’t have t’ test that.”

Carrick seemed to have a misunderstanding of his lose condition, ”Y’ don’t lose if I hit y’. Y’ lose if the beast I saw comes out after I hit y’.” Ranger provided the correction after his roundhouse met empty air.

”Of course I’m tryin’ t’ hit y’. I’m tryin’ t’ push y’. Never know when the world will turn upside down an’ I need t’ know that when y’r hair’s on fire y’ can keep a level head an’ stay in control.” Ranger walked over to some water bottles, picked one up, ”Now get down here so I can try to hit y’ more!” Ranger started throwing water filled plastic fastballs at Carrick.

”What if I let the other beast out?” Carrick asked smugly flapping away from Mike Hunt hoping to keep the distance. He was faster than most humans, especially in the air. Here he was comfortable. Safe, even. That was unless he decided to draw a weapon again. ”Bet ya haven’t seen the other.” he said wondering if his Gryphon form was enough to take the man on. Carrick was bigger and stronger in that form.

”No.” Carrick responded it felt like it was the opposite of what he should do. ”It feels counterproductive to me health.” not only would he be injured but then he’d have to explain it to the Princess why he looked like that and then he’d get an earful again. The shifter didn’t like making her mad. That too seemed counterproductive.

The water bottle zoomed by after he watched the man charge up for the shot. The first two missed the second one hit him on the shoulder. Causing his balance to shift and him hit the ground for a moment. Luckily he rolled and jumped back to his feet. Practice makes perfect and it was a favorite past time of his to practice with the entertainers in the circus.

‘Kill’

”I got it.” Carrick muttered to himself leaping into the air again and flapping a few times. Trying to keep the distance again. How long was the song anyways? Eyeing the phone Carrick’s smile widened then dropped to the ground. He just had to keep his beast form in check till the end of the song right?

”Fair point.” Carrick said lying. His tail gave him away as he brought his hands back up into a fighting stance. Carrick was toying with the man. His bruises would heal but he doubted Mike and the others would let Carrick live it down if he just took the beating. ”No beasty till the end of the song. Got it. Come on then.” The thief just had to get to the man’s phone.

”I’d put the other beast down, same as the first. There’re reasons I’m SUPER’s troubleshooter.” Ranger was nonchalant regarding Carrick’s other beast form. Ranger wasn’t over confident he just confidence from having dealt with many mutants who felt their power was some grand disaster with legs.

Carrick did give Ranger a smirk. Carrick was holding his distance because it was ‘counterproductive’ to his ‘health’. In a room as small as it was, if Ranger wanted to be counterproductive to the man’s health, he could. Even with him flying around.

The water bottles kept flying. Carrick dodged most, but some hit.

”Tha’s right. No beasty ‘til the end of the song.” Ranger confirmed and threw another bottle. ”Only another minute ‘r so.”

”He wouldn’t have any interest in ya and he is the second. Ya put down the third.” Carrick said truthfully. ”Wouldn't give ya trouble unless ya started something.” his Gryphon form was proud and didn’t like being insulted.

Another minute of this? Carrick had been familiar with fights and knew that seconds could feel like hours. More so if you were getting your teeth kicked in. Thankfully this beating wasn’t that bad. Either Mike Hunt was going easy on him or Carrick was stronger. No that couldn’t be it, the Texan seemed too relaxed considering he was in a room with the shifter. Carrick couldn’t take him in a fight.

Catching a water bottle was easier than catching a blade midair and the last bottle of water that was thrown was snatched out of the air and thrown back at his attacker with significantly less force than it had a second ago this wasn’t supposed to hurt it, it was meant to distract.

After returning the bottle Carrick darted forward leaped flapped his wings once then dove for the phone playing the music. One minute left meant nothing to the Irishman. Especially if the music was turned off. ”I win.” Carrick’s pupils were still cat like and there was a certain amount of rage he was holding back.

Carrick smirked and turned off the music and chuckled. ”Beat yer game!” he relaxed a bit and then set the phone down. ”Now what?”