A church? How cliche [Mission]

Fearghas let out what could only be considered a sigh of relief as the wheels of his rental bicycle would run on the old asphalt road that twisted and turned through the countryside.  In his right hand was his phone with a GPS map plastered on the screen, his left hand limply at his side as he continued on the road occasionally checking that he and his new partner were going in the right direction.  Fearghas let his thoughts drift away from the map and to the other kid on the bike not too far behind him, he was a cool enough kid, the surname O'Brien was a plus, but it seemed like the kid hadn't been anywhere near the Emerald Isle, he said he was born and bred in America.  Fearghas shook his head for a moment as his brown eyes scanned the horizon, the beautiful green grass, the livestock walking around, grazing.  The road was bordered by two natural waist high walls and the hills could be seen all around, all in varying degrees of growth, some containing the occasional building.  Fearghas missed this so much, and it was something he needed desperately.  When the mission showed up on the board he signed up faster than a hungry lion to an injured gazelle, or an obese man to his seventh hamburger.  It was odd though, there was so many hills around here, a lot less trees.  It was so great though, to feel Irish air in his face and his lungs, to see the people and places he so remembered, even if he wasn't from Waterford he would take any county to just see the beauty he left for some stupid superhero dream.

Fearghas checked his phone again and he suddenly brought his free hand up to the bike's handlebars, pulling on the brakes roughly he would stop rather speedily as he would come up to a small dirt road that upon first glance might seem like nothing, but his GPS told him this was the place, and at SECOND glance you could see that at one time it was very trodden upon, but it was beginning to be very overgrown.  Fearghas let out a sigh as he searched around for Ben, hoping he had some good reaction timing as he did stop rather suddenly.  He sighed as he flipped his backpack off his back, checking he had the essentials in the furthest front pockets when he would open the very back of his backpack.  Most of it would seem normal for a teen, some waters, trash and some stuff he grabbed to bring to his home, but one thing that took up most of the area in it was not something a teen would be seen toting. A piece of stained wood with Celtic knots carved near the top met with a black nylon sheath.  He removed it and examined the beautiful and intricate knots that covered the majority of the blade of the war axe that the school specially made him.  It was odd that this place would train their students in any combat they wanted, some chose ancient martial arts, but Fearghas thought that a good amount of brute force with a lot of skill could finish the job better than some glorified dance moves.

He grabbed a ring that was specially made to fit modern belts and undid his belt, pulling it through and making his belt on loop looser, putting the axe safely in his ring as he would look to O'Brien "Well, Benny t'is is t'e road, we're probably just outta range of it.  It's a real bad dose when you get close, you sure you're still up for t'is, you're gonna need to be careful."

Under Hunter's recommendation, Benjamin signed up for what his friend liked to call an adventure.

Traveling across the world had always been a minor dream of the boy's, but neither money, time, or proper courage came his way. At least that was the case until he was sent of to Beata. Luckily for him, his recently gained outgoing and outrageous friend gave him a little more self confidence when it came to new experiences and trying things. As another bonus, the academy gave away free trips across the world, even if it did come with a slight catch. To top it all off, a rather nice, albeit smaller amount of money was giving to the students will to risk their lives to see Amsterdam, Santa Monica, or even the smallest country in Africa.

All of these together seemed like the perfect way for Ben to become a stronger, different person. A worthwhile way of achieving the status and identity he wanted. At least, it seemed worthwhile in the beginning.

Sliding through the asphalt roads behind Fearghas was much harder than he expected. Riding bikes was no trouble for the brunet, but the rolling his and constants threats from the pebbles and stones below caused him to sweat buckets. The Emerald Isles were beautiful from what Ben could see through his straining, perspiration filled eyes, yet his tiredness and exhaustion prevented him from fully enjoying it. His guide seemed well off, gliding like he was comfortable and accustomed to it rather than struggling like the boy behind him. Perhaps that was the Irish blood in him.

Fearghas seemed like a nice enough person. He wasn't too intimidation, besides his thick, sometimes incoherent accent. It was common in the academy to find people from all over the world. The Autumn had even met a tall Korean boy who barely spoke a word of English. Ben wasn't at all surprised that an Irish student was attending, and even less surprised when his company on this mission to Ireland was just that student.

The Irishman pulled into an abrupt stop, startling Benny. Yanking on the brakes and skidding to a halt himself, he huffed and turned around until he was beside his partner. Grateful for a break, the brunet stepped off of his bicycle and kicked the stand into place before letting it lean against the road. He copied Fearghas and pulled his backpack around so he could grab the silver Desert Eagle his father gave to him when he was young. He was never a big fan of violence, nor had he expected to use this weapon, but today he knew he would need protection. As even more precaution, and an alternative should his gun become useless, a Arkansas toothpick rested in its sheath against his leg. Again, his father's gift. Mr. O'Brien was a rather cautious man. Especially when it came to his only son.

Clearing his throat, he gave Fearghas a nod. "As long as you don't mind me touching you, I should be as safe as your gift keeps you. Maybe even more so," he responded, laughing tiniest bit at the end. But his laugh turned a bit nervous as he thought just the opposite. His power let him gain all the immunities of the original user, but his control over their gift was beyond anything he could handle. His cousin said the more he used their power, the easier it became to control and adjust to it. Hopefully, Ben's power worked similarly and Fearghas' gift was not so destructive.

Fearghas watched as the boy grabbed his things, noticing the glint of the silver handgun as he pulled it from his pack.  His brown eyes scanned the weapon, noting that he had it LOADED in his pack, a small raise of his eyebrow followed the slight bit of nervousness that washed over him.  Sure, he wasn't the most gun savvy, his real pa wasn't too big on guns and never allowed him the chance at a permit when he was going to turn 16, though his step-dad was completely up for it...If only he still lived in the Emerald Isle.  He sighed as the distinct sound of the weapon being slid into it's holster emanated to his ears.  Fearghas sighed when he realized the boy wasn't done and grabbed a long blade and attached a sheath to his thigh.

He looked at the simple blade before shaking his head as he kept a hand carefully on the top of his specially crafted war-axe a small smile on his lips as the boy began to chuckle but his tone seemed to change to a more nervous tone near the end and Fearghas tilted his head slightly for a moment.  He'd offer a small smirk though and turn on his heels, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket and rolling it up to reveal and good portion of his upper arm, tapping the area near his tricep with two fingers as he said "Not sure how good bein' a Phoenix'll keep me from hallucinations, but new t'ings are happenin' everyday...Oh and if you got any open wounds, be ready to feel a bit 'a burnin'.  Trust me it doesn't hurt after the initial burn." His eyes looked back over his shoulder, meeting with the weapon sitting benign in it's holster saying "Keep t'at peashooter handy, and for Chrissakes make sure you don't point t'at bloody t'ing at me."

He let out a small sigh as he loosened his neck and took a bit more of a comfortable stance, keeping a hand on his weapon as he would wait for the boy to grab hold so he could begin his trek through the growth...