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For jerusalem_s.

It's a Saturday morning and being a teenage boy, Pyro's doing what comes naturally to his kind -- that is to say, being studious and walking about the second floor of the school, backpack on shoulder and what looks like a sheaf of schematics in hand. He seems to be slightly confused as to where he's going, though -- and in fact walks past a certain door before stopping, turning, and heading back to his destination, which happens to be exactly one floor up from the Journalism classroom.

"So," Pyro says aloud, and knocks on the door before edging to one side just in case. He went to school with Iceman, Gambit, and Boom Boom for years, after all -- and Pyro's always been one to learn fast.

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So far this morning, Spider had one mild case of amnesia, one bitten and apparently quarantined Assistant, one run-in with the campus security and two shots of something neon green that he hadn't bothered to read the label on.

The knock at the door was a mild surprise and he turned to look over the back of the couch. "Enter!"

"Yeah, so, uh, I figured I should check in with you about what I'm supposed to be doing," Pyro said, slouching into the room, eyeing it first for escape routes and second for -- well, his new boss. "Seein' as I'm not in any of your classes or anything."

"Newsfeeds off." The muted screens with their scrolling captions shut off, leaving the room slightly darker. Spider looked at him over the top of his glasses for a moment. "Good idea. The Assistant wanted me to get cell phones for you lot, but I found something that might work better. Hungry?"

"Depends on what you're offering." -- Because the Professor taught him to play nice when around strangers, and because Magneto taught him never to say anything too unilaterally.

The now-blank screens earned a small, appreciative sideways glance as the pyrokinetic took another step inside the room, the faint, repetitive snick-snick sound of his lighter punctuating his steps.

"Depends on if the maker's made itself a new supply of Tripwire while I was out." Spider pulled himself to his feet and rummaged in his pockets. Tossing an amber bottle with a white cap at the intern, he turned and headed into the tiny kitchen. "If the damn machine is high again, all I'll get out of it is either anchovy pizza or lobster thermadore. Fucking mechanical monstrosity...."

The bottle's caught deftly; Pyro held onto it as he watched Spider head into the kitchen, following just enough so that he could keep the boss in sight -- but not close enough that he could be hit by any stray ... well, anything that should happen right then and now.

"I thought you was a real techie guy."

"I just use them, I don't psychoanalyze them. The damn thing has a drug problem... all I can do is take 'em away." Spider aimed a kick at the tall, square machine. "Trouble is, it's a maker. It just makes new stuff and loads up. You. Machine. Breakfast."

"How's it got a drug problem, though? S'it like nanobots or --?" Pyro took another wary step into the kitchen, squinting at the machine. "I mean, how's it even get the things in the first place?"

He twisted the lid off his drink while focusing on the kitchen, took an incautious swig, and then choked just a little. Oh, so that's why his mother always said never to accept drinks from strangers.

"... what's in this?"

"It's your cell phone. Drink the entire thing or you really won't like what it might do." Spider aimed another kick at the maker. "Food, damn you. now!"

Cue splutter.

"Excuse me?" And now Pyro's mind is filled with all those anatomy lessons that he slept through back when Dr. Grey was still around. What a pleasant, pleasant thought.

Spider looked up as the smell of steak and eggs suddenly filled the air. "Drink it," he repeated impatiently. "It's biotech. No need to recharge it, runs off your metabolism. Puts a web antenna over your skin. Menu over your left eye, key pad's on the right and you can type in commands with your hand... and before you ask it does work on most body systems, mutant, bio-engineered or otherwise."

Pyro took another tentative sip before grimacing at the flavor. Or lack thereof. "Wait, so you're gonna turn me into a cell phone?"

Spider was examining a plate of light and crispy hash browns, steak, eggs and fresh fruit with deep suspicion. "No. It runs off your body's natural systems and is invisible to the naked eye. It's also a secure system, for the most part. Stealth communication."

Picking up a slice of melon he cautiously bit into it. "Eh, not too bad. Breakfast?"

Pyro squinted at the plate of food with -- well, wariness. But could anyone really blame him at this point?

"So you're saying that once I finish drinking this, I've basically got a laptop in me. Like a sci-fi novel or whatsis."

He stole a hard-boiled egg from the plate and took a bite. Oh, well. At this rate, the egg and possible poisoning was probably going to be the least dangerous part of his job.

"Not really. It's just a cell phone that you wear in nanotech over your body. You drink it so that it gets a good, solid connection to its power source before setting itself up." Spider handed him the plate and kicked the maker again. "Give me another one of those. With dolphin sauce."

"Oh. Okay." Cool.

In the war between 'dude, that is so fucking weird' and 'shiny!', 'shiny!' apparently won out, because Pyro cradled the plate of food in one elbow, then took a couple more swallows from the bottle.

"Can I call anyone on this, or just people who've got the ... drink ... too?"

"You can call anyone you want," Spider told him, getting another plate from the maker and sniffing approvingly. "I won't wear that shit, so giving you something that you can't call me on would be sort of pointless."

"Okay." Pyro eyed the last remmants of his drink, then sighed and downed the dregs. Apparently, OOH COOL SHINY wins out over all, even a horrible flavor.

"Can I do anything else with this? Or just talk on the phone?"

"It's a cell phone." Spider shrugged, digging in as he wandered toward the table. "Text messaging, surfing the internet, whatever turns you on. Try not to surf the porn sites in class, however. I really don't need the principal on my ass."

Porn sites? Hah. If all went the way that he wanted it to, the principal would probably wish that Pyro was looking at porn.

"Okay," Pyro said, and followed, dropping into a chair at random. Munching on a piece of bacon, "So what's first on the duty list, boss?"

Phoebe had finally woken up and decided to leave the others where they were sleepy. She hoped that she had slept the toxin off, but if she hadn't...well, she'd have to talk to Spider about it anyway.

She made her way across campus and vaulted up the steps to Spider's door. She knocked once and then opened the door.

"Hello?"

"First on the duty list?" Spider grinned up at Pyro. "Offer the Assistant some breakfast."

He turned and beckoned to Phoebe. "Morning, Assistant. I see you aren't rampaging wildly through the building in the altogether. Can we assume that you're going to survive?"

"Okay," Pyro said, blinking a little at Phoebe. "You're Halliwell, right?"

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed two more pieces of bacon off his plate along with a slice of toast for himself, and extended the plate minus said food in Phoebe's direction. "Want some?"

Glancing at the clock on his desk, Krycek decided it was about time to go. Locking his dorm behind him, he headed out and over to the school - where he thought he saw the girl, Phoebe, going inside before him.

Walking up the stairs to the second floor, he approached the professor's door with no small amount of wariness. The professor had called them here though, so hopefully it wouldn't blow him up immediately.

He knocked on the door firmly, then stepped back quickly and waited.

"Phoebe," she said with a smile and took the plate of food. Then she looked at Spider.

"I assume that I'm going to survive," she nodded. "Hank, Zero and Jayne kept an eye on me and didn't let me do anything like that. Also, whatever was in the bottle you gave me? I want more of. I was feeling no pain."

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