Athenian Gear's Academy

[Evil Snowman]

“Yes Sir, I’ll see what can do.” She said nodding trying to think of were some the she remembered they Julian taking about being in the Gym, so maybe they were still in there.
The thought of going into a Gym made Ciannait shutter, she hated gyms the mere thought of working out made her feel sick, although she was quite luckily to not really need to work out to stay in shape.
“Hello… I’m Ciannait Burbach. What’s your name?” She said looking at Giselle.
She mentally sighed partly regretting offering to help as meeting now people was not easy for her, although at least it was a girl so it made things slightly easier.
But as much as Ciannait regretted offering to help it was too late to take back the offer.
She just hoped she could help this person without making a fool of herself.

[JerkChicken]

And with that parting action he left her alone to mull with her parts, he was off to find something potable but not before sending that girl a contact address so that she have source of contact for this payment whatever it may be. It would be watching her squirm or that very least writing her up should she panic and in her words do something inappropriate. Now he had to attend to briefing and debriefing which went through rather quick on account of his success. There would a be an update later, much later.

At long last he changed into something clean, comfortable, and warm. It might be around dinner time for others but he would pass like most of the time. Hitching a ride aboard a transport he rode into the night, as the view of the academy shrunk and faded into starry night. Miér found himself once again on the streets of the local city that served as a supply line to the academy. He felt surly and even more restless than usual, the inviting glow of a sign advertising a bar. Tonight would be yet another swirl of events and colors, and for that he was dangerously sober. Placing money on the counter he said, "Southern wisemen." Ignoring the bartender's odd look he grabbed the glass and gave it a heft drink. The news in the background chattered on about the war raging with casualties and stories of heroism.

Already finishing his drink he left to another bar, such was the amount of time he had to do nothing with what with him having nothing pertinent. Entering yet another fine establishment of liquor he ordered a dark rum and watched the television which was on sports or something. He watched as the night life slowly poured out and passed around on the streets. Even with war going on these people were relatively safe compared to other locations and as such a bit more willing to act as normal. By now Miér already was already on his third drink and starting to feel the booze working as he was now buzzed. He simply sighed as these feelings that were bottle merely started slow burn again, mainly that of some sort of ill-defined exasperation and tedium. he ad to do something just to spice things up for himself. He scanned the bar looking for anything to do, then it hit him.Rising up he began pulling out more money and said, "I bet this much I can kick anyone's ass at darts." And so began what could possibly be a slightly entertaining excursion for him this night.

"Sorry about that," he said with barely a hint of slurring as he fished out a dart from a glass, "Let me buy you another drink." Fishing out the dart that ricocheted from the board and into nearby glass as he laid money down. He grimaced a bit as usually he was rather good at this and could nail bulls eyes with ease. However due to hitting the sauce rather heavily this night instead of being in this zen like state of inebriation and more on an express way to hangover town.Already he'd lost what amounted to a wad or three worth of cash to the other patrons. Against his better instinct he continued drinking, and continued playing. The exact motions were a blur but it ended with him winning with an even fatter wad of bills and annoyed looks well after a couple of shattered glasses.

"So I assume this is enough to cover the damages?" he asked as he left some of his earnings to the bartender giving him the stink eye. "Yes, and I suggest you drop the darts before you drill someone's head or get out."

"Right..." Miércoles said in low voice as he slammed his way out of the door. smattering of rain greeted his exit as he looked up to guess just how late/early in the night/morning. "Well crap." he said to himself in a whisper as the wind changed direction spraying him with that cold morning rain. He was running out of time and having a hangover was inevitable which wouldn't be so bad but he had class to run later this day. Luckily enough getting in was as easy as getting out. Next up was to get those pills from the infirmary before slinking back to his quarters to recuperate for how many hours were left.

The darkness of the academy wasn't so much an issue as much as his drunken state so much as everything else making moving a bit of a mess. After making stumbling around and making the same turns for what seemed to be the same damn area for he got to the infirmary. Now where was the door handle and was it locked or was he merely too drunk open the damn thing? Didn't matter as muscle memory honed from countless breaking and entering has made it second nature to him. This would be all done quickly, all he had to do is remain calm and relaxed otherwise he'd end up fumbling around even worse. These pills are reserved for staff socials gone awry, student mischief, and lastly people like him; they should be in the same area unless they were moved. Bending over to one of the cabinets almost sent him diving to the floor tiles but a last minute semi-lucky save prevented a full on face plant, stomach now more than queasy from that motion as he gritted his teeth and suppressed that gagging sensation.

Fishing around for his lockpick he resisted the urge to bring it out with flourish it. It would end with it being somewhere on the floor and he was in no mood to hunt for it. With an uncomfortably loud seeming creak the doors opened and he began rifling through the cabinet. It seemed to contain cough and allergy meds. After trying to silently close the doors he opened the other cabinet next to it. He then dropped down and remained motionless making sure he didn't attract any unwanted attention before continuing to open the doors. With great care to minimize the annoying creaking sound he finally found the meds he needed and pocketed more than a couple bottles as an insurance of sorts for the future. Smiling he began locking the cabinet doors and began to make his way out

[Mikael]

Student Gym –– ROUND 3

XYIt was time–– at long last, the weak would overcome the strong. His heart beat its war drums twice as hard . . .
XYXYXY"I think you can do it."
XYXYXYXY. . . with every word breathed . . .
XYXYXYXYXY"I know you can."
XYXYXYXYXYXY. . . for with every confirmation of faith . . .
XYXYXYXYXYXYXY"Give 'em hell."
XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY. . . and every excitedly raw encouragement . . .
XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY"yeah... Julian, get 'im."
XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY. . . every defeat cued for vengeance . . .
XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY"Be careful Julian, he'll hit where it hurts."
XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY. . . and all the care gained from experience and observation . . .
XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY"You got more advantages than him, though."
. . . the armored confidence, and drive to succeed, manifested as magnified supernovas . . .
. . . in the subtle gleams of his light blue, steel-rimmed gaze.

In his mind's eye, he marveled at its design, and how it not only made social situations lubricatedly easier to follow, but boosted his own emotive well-being to a dizzying height. He liked the feeling. But then came a quiet albeit gripping plea, tagged by his own name that he had not yet become used to hearing his friends say, let alone one of his love interests. While the utterance did not add to his battle armor, it did not compromise its interwoven scales, either. It actually allowed him to fit his armor better, as though she had taken the role of a maiden dressing her knight for battle, all the while pleading that he stay home from the front-lines that day.

"Julian, please don't..."

As Sofiya stood to her feet, Julian turned around, mirroring her worried demeanor from across the painful 5-foot gap of unbridged love that separated them. Seeing her trepidation was alarmingly caustic, but it was a welcomed price to pay if it aroused the girl from her usual, sleepy disposition–– it was as an enriching oasis suddenly forming before him in a desert of self-doubt and physical inadequacy, and he so desired to plunge into its depths. The squat chubster listened to the delicate Russian carefully, but did not hear anything new–– in fact, it was not without a heartfelt sense of empathy that Julian understood the gist of Sofiya's words, even her thoughts and feelings that went unspoken. He found it evidencing that she was trying to do the same thing that he was already doing for her; that neither student desired the other to suffer, but both yearned to swap each other's trial–– it was an infinite loop if he ever knew one, but it was the one loop that he'd enjoy reiterating if things ever progressed that far . . .

. . . The nature of love, in its many forms, was not predictable, despite its common effects seen in people; moreover, many other things in life were not certainties. And yet, everyone deliberately treated those things as such, taking on unconfessed faith that they will indeed be there, work out, and return again the next day–– whether or not people realized their faith was irrelevant. It was in their nature to do those things and since people were confined to their natures, they were therefore predictable within a certain array of accuracy to the right persons that acknowledged the limits of human nature.

Sofiya knew he was smart–– and that he had formed a plan; however, this understandable albeit bland point of view of Julian's nature invited a bumblewinking line of thought that stifled true comprehension. Simpletons and intellectuals alike stood on equal grounds when contrasted with the gargantuan monolith that best symbolized his genius–– if you were to stand back far enough, they would all simply vanish whilst he stayed visible in the distance. And what ever it was that they all misconceived as impossible or at best, improbable, Julian regarded not only possible, but manageable. For once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, no matter how improbable, was possible. And to Julian, stripping the impossibilities of each person's nature rendered all their improbabilities and possibilities completely naked and measurable. With each one then meticulously fed into scientific algorithms based on parameters derived from the environments, circumstances, and goals, the final result was a calculated analysis; a complex string of chess moves; a plan with steps to take, timings to follow, and prayers to amen.

But Julian did not require such mental regalia for Sofiya, which is why he liked her so much–– she represented in his eyes a relaxation spa for the mentally wearied. Everyone else was an entirely different story. He considered his reply as he adjusted his finger-less, unpadded gladiator gloves.

“Not all pains should be avoided,” Julian replied solemnly to her, and then to Stephen, “Right?”

Satisfied, the 17-year-old golden red gladiator stepped onto the mat quietly without fanfare (aside from any cheering his friends may have shouted at that point) and stood there, arms akimbo, as he observed his bald, bespectacled opponent. The 20-year-old martial artist, rested from his meditation, had stood to his full height, which dwarfed the bambino of war by a full 8-inches. Additionally, he actually weighed more than Julian by a chunky 26-pounds, the bulk of it gym-forged muscles. Julian had acknowledged this fact already-- and assumed that whatever "advantages" Scarlett thought he had over Sam weren't physical ones, because body pads can only protect you so much. Ironically, she was about to be proven correct because Julian considered Sam's physique a disadvantage.

Sam looked him up and down, clearly pinpointing weaknesses-- which Julian wanted him to do. He could even tell that the 3rd year was having fun with it, evident by his wily smirk. Glancing over his shoulder, Sam gave Bearclaw and Bob an incredulous look, which they responded with chuckles and nods-- Moe was even there, having returned from the bathroom all cleaned up and smelling fresh, unlike Kainan, who was probably drooling in Scarlett's lap.

Turning back to Julian, Sam scoffed, "You know, I'm still tired... and weak. Mr. Landani was a worthy foe... but you... I can still take a fat blob like you any day, any time... I mean, what are you even thinki--"

Sam stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes furrowing as Julian had taken off one of his elbow pads and tossed behind him. Bearclaw and his gang half-squinted at this, obviously puzzled. No doubt Stephen and his friends would be as well. As Julian spoke, he did not once take his eyes off of Sam-- and Bearclaw, Bob, and Moe staring behind him. The pattering rain outside started hitting the skylight and windows with more enthusiasm.

"Allow me to impress upon you the severe blunder you have made," Julian began, working on unclipping his other elbow pad. "All my life, my conduct has been largely benevolent to strangers, and submissive to the whims of other people around me–– including the few students whom I've befriended today.”

"And yet, without provocation, you have scarred our academic tranquility with such an extreme and gross misadventure," he continued, now slipping off his right kneepad, "of which the unsportsmanlike details have sickened me to my very core. It have forced me to unleash upon you the punitive analysis of a thousand calculations."

"Tonight, you shall curse your mothers for the day of your birth–– indeed, you will become shame incarnate," Julian crowed angrily, working on his last kneepad, "So, if you dare, come and begin your life of woe, knowing that human society–– your idol! ––will witness your pathetic good works absolutely crumble under the utter failure that I've prescribed for your gluttonous ego and moral blindness!"

"The unforgiving ocean of their collected scorn will crash down upon you, overfilling your lungs and splintering your soul in twain," Julian rasped loudly, inhaling sharply as he adjusted his glasses, "And as you gaze upon the watery wreckage that was once your life, you will regret the night you crossed the wrong, fat blob... JULIAN ADAM BUMBLEWINK!!"

Wearing only his red, short-sleeved clingy body suit, bracelet, and red helmet (and cup), Julian stood there, arms akimbo once again, and enjoyed how great it felt to get all that off of his chest. The silence in the student gym could probably be physically felt by a retarded gnat. Their mouths slightly agape, the foes of Stephen and his friends were somewhat awestruck by Julian's "boast"-- except Bearclaw. He merely glowered curiously at Julian, the left side of his mouth tugging like a facial tic. Moe and Bob had exchanged nervous glances with silly grins, but Sam had actually shuddered a bit as he re-steeled his nerves, which had fled to hide into his bones. He started walking cautiously toward Julian, his fists up in a defensive posture, and wondered why the fatso had taken off his pads.

This move set off a chain reaction in Julian's mind, as he began recalling all of the variables of his analysis for immediate use.

'Mat's 30-ft by 30-ft, 2 inches thick-- gym's air is lukewarm-- I'm 13-ft from the center-- He's at the center-- Moving 6 to 12 inches per second-- He's staring at my chest-- Reading my center of body movement-- I'm 5' 1", 197-pounds-- He looks 5' 7" to 10", 220 to 230-pounds-- Get ready to move-- Difference's 6 to 9 inches taller, 20 to 30 pounds heavier-- Sofiya is-- Arm reach's 4-inches-- Muscle mass exceeds mine by at least 55%-- Get ready-- He's wearing black shorts, white t-shirt-- beautiful-- small grip tolerance-- He is bald-- zero grip tolerance-- He wears glasses-- looks weak to medium prescription-- Move-- He's looking at my right side-- The angle for blurry eyesight's 30-degrees left, 90-degrees right-- My movement must exceed 15-inches per second at least-- Sam's reaction times are 230 milliseconds higher compared to Kainan's-- Move! -- Considerably slower than the group average-- 30% less agile than Moe-- 25% stronger than Bob-- DODGE!!'

Julian's subconscious finally got through to him, just in time as Sam attempted a solid left hook to the ribs. The bambino, however, remained calm and simply moved forward at a certain speed in a certain way, turning sideways as he did. Sam let out a cry of surprise as he attempted a right jab at Julian's face. However, it was already too late-- Julian was moving into his next "safety hole." Since in his mind's eye he could see all these holes around Sam, all shifting and changing places. What were these holes?

Sam growled in frustration as his attacks kept slipping past Julian. He couldn't understand it-- it was like he was reading his mind, but he knew that was impossible. And-- did he just smirk at me? Sam's contorted face had clued Julian into what he was probably thinking. The exasperated martial artist ceased his assault, panting slightly while Julian crossed his arms. There was about 6-feet between them.

"How is it... a fatass like you," Sam breathed, "can move with such grace? You.. you can't keep that up, you know? You're too unfit."

"Is that what you really think?" Julian replied, his smirk falling into a frown.

"That's what I know, lardass," Sam snapped, readying himself for another go.

"If my being graceful has anything to do with how agile or fast I am, clearly you will win by simply focusing on those attributes," Julian stated, smirking once again.

His taunt in place, Julian waited for Sam to resume his pointless assault. All he had been doing was observing Sam's body language, calculating its intricacies against how he moved on the mat. He then compared the analysis to his own, knowing how he ought to move in response. It was also a matter of timing, because the holes were only accessible in short windows of opportunity. It was not that he was being faster or agiler than his opponent-- Julian was incredibly slow. It just appeared to others, more importantly, Sam, that the contrary was true. The fact of the matter was that Julian was already moving where he needed to be, into those holes where Sam couldn't organize an attack so quickly. None of Sam's attacks really came close to Julian-- nothing was a close shave in other words. And since Julian committed himself to defensive and evasive measures, he retained plenty of steam and kept his pace in check. Compare this to Sam, whose techniques, while refined, still had imperfections that needlessly choked his stamina-- it all added up, plus his mental and emotional agitation at being "outgraced" by a "lardass" was taking its toll as well.

The fight continued for another two or so minutes-- and not once did Julian get hit. Sam, sweating bullets at this point, growled like a bitching dog. Julian chuckled mentally-- it was working. Just needed a bit more... oh! Sam's body heaved, mustering all his strength into one violent blow. It was 100% energy in one strike all over again.

"STOP MOVING!!" he cried, aiming at Julian's chest.

Julian, surprisingly, seemed to oblige him, but he squatted down, too, bracing himself. At the right moment, he angled his helmet into Sam's raging left fist, angling it downward and therefore breaking his wrist control. But before Sam could even start crying about the pain, his upper body was still falling down onto Julian, whose helmeted head came rising back up in time to bash the man's nose to the left. Sam fell over backwards, confused as he whimpered and cried, his right hand not sure whether to console his left wrist or stop the blood flowing from his nostrils.

Julian appeared flabbergasted, and even reddened as he gulped and looked down at Sam's predicament. He was only trying to rebound Sam's attack back onto his wrist. Having felt something else hit his helmet, he still hadn't expected... that.

"Well... that, that was an un-unexpected... bonus," he remarked, glancing at his friends.

Julian then heard a sound like a real dog growling. 'Uh oh...'

Enraged at his humiliation, Sam popped up from the mat and began charging Julian, who turned tail and fled like a scared kitty kat brat. Tempted to freak out, he quickly assessed where he was going-- straight at Stephen and his friends on the bench behind him. Well, that made sense to Julian-- he'd run to his friends for help, of course. But it didn't make good on his battle plans. However, at the last moment, before hitting the edge of the mat, Julian shuffled-spun to his left. Sam, however, failed to realize this and nearly tripped as he careened to a halt. Desperately trying to turn around, he only succeeded at teeter-tottering on the edge, about 5-feet from Stephen.

As his balance started regaining itself, Sam chuckled prematurely. Without warning, a red finger-less glove flashed across his face, from right to left, as Julian back-slapped him.

"Waaah!!" Sam cried, falling over the mat backwards and landing on his bum bum.

Realizing what just happened, sulkiness spread across Sam's face. He looked up at Julian-- who now stood taller than him --as he slipped his glove back on and stared right back at him with a casual gaze. Indignation setting its roots in his heart, Sam nodded at Julian, and then footed it across the mat on all three and sat between Bob and Moe, who kept staring at him in stark disbelief. The only one over there who didn't seem to care about the outcome was David Bearclaw, who rose from his seat and sighed with relief.

Julian scarcely had time to smile triumphantly at his friends, all who perhaps were either cheering him on full-steam or gawking at him in awe, when Bearclaw stepped onto the mat and shouted.

“I'm David Bearclaw–– the Thunder God. 'Nuff said.”

Julian walked over to the center of the mat, standing half-turned to David who was still walking toward him. "And you... hah! What a great fucked-up way of winning. But seriously..."

Bearclaw glanced at Stephen, then said, "Time for you to throw in the towel so the real warriors can finally fight..."

Julian sighed lightly and timidly said, "But... that's breaking the rules. Your rules!"

Bearclaw stopped his gait instantly. Blinking at Julian, he then scoffed and walked closer-- almost 100% more cockier than before --and flexed his muscles. It was an attempt to intimidate Julian-- and it worked, considering the boy stepped back gulping.

Bearclaw glowered down at him, “You trying to be a smartass? Think, Potato Head. Decided to spare you and the dozy cum bucket over there.”

Julian bravely stared right back up at him, and shook his head no, to which Bearlcaw then said “Good, now get off the mat.”

But Julian shook his head again, clarifying with thinly veiled wrath, “Nooo.... you, you CAN'T talk about her like that!”

Hearing this, Bearclaw flinched noticeably. For a moment, he glanced at Sofiya and then Julian, then back at her again, before his eyes closed and started laughing at Julian derisively. Julian reddened at this mockery, but otherwise said nothing. Bearclaw opened his eyes, chuckling as he looked up-- like he was thinking.

He then said, “This your first day of school here?”
“Y-Yes,” Julian lied.
“You sure?”
“Yes...”
“And you're defending her honor?”
“Of course! I ca––”
“––You really think so?”
“Yeah. Why are y––”
“––She's your girlfriend?”

“YES! ...I-I mean, I, well...um...” Julian stammered stupidly, stealing a glance at Sofiya–– 'Oh my God she heard me!' ––and then turning back to Bearclaw, and tapping his fingertips nervously.

Bearclaw scoffed. “Ah-haha! Ahh... you're waaay too ambitious, kid. But alright, have your way...” he said, admitting more truth than he had ever done thus far in the Rumble.

Bearclaw then slapped Julian square across the face with his metal hand, which sent Julian's glasses flying as he tumbled down to his right. An audible whimper manged to escape his throat. His glasses, however, clinkered heavily as they hit the ground and skidded to a halt in front of Scarlett and Sofiya's feet.

“Tsk-tsk... all those smarts won't mean a damn thing if you can't hold composure, boy!” Bearclaw jeered, looking down at him.

Perhaps the bully was right-- Julian was all tears and snot as he tried to wipe it all away on his hand. He then whispered something into his bracelet.

Can't even take a friendly slap without falling apart,” Bearclaw crowed, putting his hands on his hips, “You hear me, kid? Yer outta your league here.”

“I... o-okay, I-I guess y-you're right. Help me up,” Julian admitted, extending his arm out to him.

Bearclaw rolled his eyes and sighed, wondering how far he could throw the fat potato. Grabbing Julian by his arm, specifically at the forearm's bracelet, he easily hefted the fat student to his feet. But before he could let go, Julian screamed at the top of his lungs... something unintelligible. It sounded like...

“BUMBLEPSYCHE!” And suddenly, both Julian and Bearclaw were getting shocked to ruins-- the force so great that their bodies were vibrating, making them dance on their very tippy toes as the bolts ran their course.

But with a defiant, angry yell, Bearclaw broke free of Julian's trap. Staggering backwards, he groaned in pain as he rubbed his metal arm's attachment at his shoulder. In stark contrast, however, Julian was frenzied with excitement-- whether or not this was the electricity talking was up to debate. Notably, his red helmet's chin strap had broken, the helmet itself flying up to the ceiling because of Julian's hair-raising experience. His hair was literally sticking up like straight spikes. Before Bearclaw could retaliate, Julian darted over to his friends, a wide toothy smile plastered on his face.

“Hehehe, alright, I forfeit now! And he's all yours, okay Stephen? Whoo-Whee!” Julian cried, smacking him on the chest.

Going past him, Julian suddenly tripped over the bench-- the part where Kainan's legs were resting --and fell to the ground. But before anyone could see to him, Julian hopped back up with a giggle and sat down on the ground next to Sofiya's left leg. There wasn't enough room on the bench for all of them.

“Please don't ever make me do that again!” Clover pleaded from his bracelet.

“It was worth it!” he replied, and then turned to Sofiya and Scarlett, looking up at them.

“Been waiting to do just that ever since Bearclaw threw Kainan,” he admitted shyly.

Julian turned his attention back to the mat, his goofy mouth still a'grin, as a bolt of electricity jumped from one hair spike to the next. His red helmet, perhaps gone unnoticed at this point, was stuck up on the ceiling.

[Captain Jenno]

Stephen was, to say the very least, was impressed. He'd never expected to see Julian take anyone down, and he certainly didn't expect the person he took down to be one of these brutes.
Stephen patted Julian on the back as he passed, "Great work, Julian! You were a force of nature!" he grinned, watching his spherical companion move to the bench. That was damned impressive. In fact, it hadn't even dawned on Stephen that it was his turn, until his attention was drawn by an alien shadow cast across the mat.

Stephen, a grin still on his face, turned, to catch sight of Bearclaw. His grin quickly faded.

"...Bearclaw," he muttered, before stepping onto the edge of the mat, "I'm Steph..." he trailed off.
It means thunder god, 'nuff said.

The arrogance in his voice only now took effect. Was it some intimidation tactic? Or just egotism?

And then, the image of him slapping Julian, only just now began to bother him. He'd been so caught up in Julian's victory, he hadn't even registered it until now.
Stephen's eyes glinted momentarily with an unfamiliar presence, before he repeated his step onto the mat, raising his mechanical arm, exposed from his sleeve, which slid down its gleaming frame.

"My name is Stephen 'The Iron Giant' Minchin," he punched his real hand with his mechanical one, "And these're my friends."

"Yeah, I can see why they're your friends," Bearclaw began, standing up and feeling better after Julian's little bumblepsyche.

"They stick around out of pity," he finished, glowering at Minchin.

There, in the center of the mat, Bearclaw cleared his throat and waved Stephen over with a mocking hand gesture.

"All aboard the pain train," he taunted.

Instead of a glare, a grin crossed his lips. A grin that Stephen had not experienced in long time. The urge to actually hurt somebody... to cause pain and intend on it.

It was glorious.

In a burst of energy, the Australian freight train launched himself forwards, feet hitting the ground in rapid succession as he gathered momentum, and swung for Bearclaw's jaw, "Boarding!"

As far as Bearclaw was concerned, Stephen's method of boarding was no different than trying to enter a train by meeting it head-on in its track. Still, since it had taken forever for the Rumble to get to this point (or maybe the Native American was just impatient), he didn't really care HOW Stephen decided to approach.

Suddenly, with uncanny grace that belied his massive frame, Bearclaw executed a back-flip with his legs-- and by extension, his FEET, intending to uppercut Stephen's entire upper body.

Stephen had hoped for just this. Of course he'd presume a full frontal assault, of course he would!

But Stephen didn't fight with brute strength, he fought with...

Balance.

Suddenly, Stephen used the momentum of his punch to hurtle forwards, before leaning forwards and drawing back his arms. In doing this, he positioned his elbows above shoulder-height, directed at Bearclaw's ribcage. It was a long shot, but Stephen was confident his mechanical arm could hold the weight, "Hmph!"

Bearclaw grunted, not quite in pain, but it did tickle a bit too much. It seemed the little Munchin had learned a few tricks since their last cultural scuffle. As gravity brought the bear down upon the wolf, he grabbed Stephen around his waist with both his arms and then, being on his feet, held him upside down.

"It seems you're way more bitter about our last fight than I thought you'd be," Bearclaw roared and then hopped in the air, preparing to piledrive Stephen into the mat.

Stephen grunted, rolling out of the way at the last second, but panting heavily as his bionic eye attempted to regulate itself through all of the motion.

When Bearclaw hit the mat beside him, Stephen whirled around, attempting to strike David in the chest with his mechanical arm, "Bitter is one word for it!"

Bearclaw scoffed. Somehow Stephen had weaseled out of his grip, but he didn't bother to maintain it. He was still trying to size-up the little punk. So, standing tall, he took Stephen's mechanical punch right in the chest-- the pain was... awesome. Bearclaw coughed, his eyes slightly bulging. However, wasting no time at all, he counterattacked with an uppercut with his own metal arm, but accidentally slipped past Stephen's chin, and grazed his bionic eye.

And by graze, that actually meant busting it something fierce. The force also caused Stephen to stumble backwards a bit (or whatever would happen), but in any case, Bearclaw resumed a defensive stance, with his right metal arm in front to absorb any backlash attacks.

Stephen couldn't even scream, the pain was that fierce.

For one moment, Stephen could see victory. The next, he could see nothing. Rolling back, Stephen left splints of microfibre and glass across the mat as his eye tried, and failed, to restore itself.

>Vital Systems Failing.
>Eye Status: Damaged
>Colour efficiency: Damaged
>Blood pressure: Failing
>Heart: Failing
>Lungs: Failing
>Limbs: Failing
>Attempting emergency reboot.
>Denied.
>Entering shutdown.

Stephen got to his feet with a growl, more fibreglass hitting the ground as he straightened up, and just a single drip of blood ran down his cheek. It was a sight to behold. What once looked like a human eye, was now a flickering green, shattered lens, with visible text scrolling across its faulty surface, and large patches of circuitry protruding from the socket. Had the punch been any closer, the eye probably would have stabbed him in the brain.

He could only hope his vital systems failing was a malfunction on his eyes part, he felt fine, apart from the crippling pain in his face.

And yet, as blood continued to trickle down his face, the pain seemed to lessen. Replaced with something new.

He no longer wanted to see Bearclaw hurt.

He wanted to see Bearclaw dead, with his mechanical fingers curled around his own neck.

Stephen tried to speak, but all that escaped his mouth was laughter. Dark, pained maniacal laughter.
"Oh, you fucker..." he wheezed out between laughing fits, before looking up, his real eye darkening. Stephen rolled his neck, "You insignificant piece of shit..." he cracked his real knuckles against his mechanical palm, "I'm going to make you bleed, Bearclaw. I'm going to make you hurt!"
And with that, he was off sprinting, leaving blood across the mat as he hurtled towards Bearclaw, and suddenly, dropped to the floor, sliding towards Bearclaw's legs with the hopes of toppling him. However, his damaged eye sight might have damaged his accuracy...

David Bearclaw was a 7th year in Athenian Gear Academy-- as such, he has experienced a lot of different things at this secret place; great and terrible things. But seeing Stephen charged him like that, well, it began to stir him in a way that made him regret ever making a deal with HER. He sighed. He would be graduating soon, later that year.

"I'm not impressed, Minchin... show me your potential!" he barked, watching Stephen attack his ankles.

Unfortunately, Bearclaw was quite ready-- he raised his foot and then tried to kick Stephen in the face with it. All the while, he intended to back away and force the enraged student to his feet if he wanted to come at him again.

Stephen, enraged, kicked off of the mat, rolling backwards, before getting to his feet and rolling his neck. His mechanical eye was getting worse by the second, depreciating in structural stability with every second. Drawing his fist back, Stephen charged forwards, aiming for a steel-plated uppercut, "Hmph!"

'Time to crash this poor sucker,' Bearclaw thought.

It was getting late, and his deadline was closing in on him. He had to end this, or else risk doing it all for nothing. As Stephen made his final charge (or so Bearclaw presumed), the gigantic Thundergod charged him as well, at the same time, activating his shock-hammer mechanism. He jumped in the air a couple feet, and met Stephen's attack head on with a downward hammerfist, aiming for his skull. However, the attack actually met Stephen's rising uppercut.

The two metal fists collided, giving birth to sparks that littered the mat with glowing embers that darkened into death, leaving behind black spots. The force and sound was so loud that Julian covered his ears, grunting in pain as the two metal fists sang a symphony of sheer destruction.

A symphony that neither student could shrug off.

As he stood up a bit too easily, Bearclaw felt an enourmours weight lift off his right shoulder. And, looking over to it, utter shock ripped across his face, his teeth clenched and bared. His arm was gone-- in pieces, all over the mat. The only thing remained was the small shoulder mount that the metal arm hooked into. His breathing was shallow, he couldn't believe this. What a mess! What a fucking catastrophe! He turned around, looking for Stephen to see how he fared.

When their fists collided, the air seemed to ripple around their unholy union. Sparks not only danced against the mat, but across his arm, and the arm of his rival. Not only that, but as though in slow motion, Stephen saw in detail as his arm began to fall apart. His knuckle joints erupted from their sockets, taking the finger plating with them. This was followed by the shell of his lower and upper arm, which, due to the pressure of their fists collision, flew off, before skidding across the mat. The wires and clockwork that made up the interior of Stephen's arm almost let out a screech, as they erupted from their position, flying in all different directions, some piercing the walls, some clattering against the floor, as what remained of Stephen's arm collapsed to the floor, leaving just the metallic hinge at his shoulder, a few hanging wires, and one continuously rotating clockwork gear.

But Stephen was still determined. Angry, yes. In pain? Greatly. In fact, as his arm was linked to his pacemaker, blood began to pour from his shoulder, just as his eye had stopped bleeding. The pain was already burning, searing, from his first injury... now all he saw was red. Was anger.

He could barely see at all, now. His remaining eye watered with the agony, his mechanical one had long ceased working, and now all he saw was the dancing blur of Bearclaw. He groaned, as sweat poured from him, but powered through.

As Bearclaw stared at his arm, bewildered, Stephen lifted his leg, admittedly with very poor balance, and quipped, "Explosive results," before firing a kick towards Bearclaw's torso in a hope to finally shunt him off of the mat. Would it work? He didn't know. But if he could just do it, it'd make that long trip to Chiaki's office slightly less horrifying.

The Victory was had-- and it wasn't Bearclaw's. Falling off of the mat, he landed nearly on top of Sam and Bob, who both scattered like cockroaches as their massive leader skidded some 10-ft beyond the mat's edge. With Bearclaw silenced, his three goons regrouped and looked ready to storm the weakened Stephen with murderous vengeance. But Bearclaw seemed to realize this, and barked a command to prevent Sam, Bob, and Moe from carrying out their assault. They returned to him, worried faces surrounding him.

"Give this to him," Bearclaw told Sam, tossing the bag of EC-tokens to him.

Sam nodded, and power-walked over to Stephen, carefully avoiding the chunks and then stopped short of entering the final victor's space. He tossed the bag to him, not caring if he caught it or not. In any case, the bag was tied well enough to prevent the tokens from spilling out.

"Enjoy your... popularity," Sam whispered at him, smirking as he glanced at someone over Stephen's shoulder.

He then turned tail, helping Moe and Bob carry their leader out the back-entrance of the Student Gym. They couldn't come and collect Bearclaw's arm parts-- most of them were illegal, but otherwise had no identifying features that linked the parts to the defeated Indian.

"And there you have it, fellow AGA students, the reign of the Thundergod is over!" a feisty-voiced little masked shrimp cried out, from the gym's entrance, and talking to a robotic floating camera.

"The winners of the first Student Rumble have been declared! Stephen 'The Iron Giant' Minchin, followed by Julian Adam Bumblewink, Kainan Vek Landani, and Scarlett Sahkarova, including her racial sister, Sofiya Lebenova, who valiantly cheered her team on."

"Make sure you shower them with appreciation, as I'm quite certain this year's academic activity will be much better with a new king around. This is Radio Gear Rebel, signing off. Thank you, and have a pleasant second day!" the masked figure stated, cuing the robotic drone to cut the feed with a hand gesture.

He then turned toward Stephen and his friends, smirked behind his mask, and said, "By the way, the infirmary seems to be in utter disrepair. Someone set off a bomb or something... ta-ta for now!"

Without so much as a bow, the mysterious masked reporter escaped through the student gym without a sound. Julian, having been listening with stark disbelief, mumbled as he turned back to Stephen and stood up.

"Well... this is a mess... you think?" he chuckled nervously.

Whether the bambino was referring to their victory suddenly being aired to the entire student body, or Stephen's arm lazing around in pieces was anyone's guess.

Stephen snagged the tokens with his remaining arm, a look of focus on his face. Focus and pain.
When the masked figure had finished... whatever it was he was discussing, Stephen was approached by Julian. He couldn't hear most of what was going on around him... his ears were ringing, his eye watering. But the words infirmary and utter disrepair made their way to him. Julian himself sounded like a mumble, but Stephen could just about make him out.
"Yeah, it's-" he suddenly choked, before coughing violently, blood splattering across the mat.

Stephen, warned a familiar Penguin from a card around his neck, Your pacemaker and implants appear to be in a state of severe disrepair. You need to contact Chiaki immediately.
"The... infirmary isn't an option, it seems..." he wheezed, before passing the tokens to Julian.
"My readings tell me that your expectancy is about eight hours until expiry."
Stephen almost laughed. He would've, if it hadn't been so painful... "That's two hours to spend celebrating our victory before I get concerned... right?" he turned to Julian again. He looked like he'd just gotten out of a Car crusher, "It... isn't too bad..."
With a weak smile, Stephen took a step forwards, before falling onto one knee, and letting out a long, pained breath.

[LovelyAnastasia]

Giselle looked up at Ciannait and smiled shyly. Her pale skin seemed a bit paler even though a light embarrassed blush rose up to her face. Bobbing her head in a small bow of thanks the German girl's hair fell into her face once more. Taking the long sleeves of her sweater, she covered her mouth as a small cough escaped her lips. Her long worn skirt and baggy white socks all seemed to swallow the little petite form. She looked up at the teacher and bobbed her head in thanks.

"Um, ja, danke sehr," she smiled warmly, "Thank you very much." She turned to look up at the other student, "Thank you very much for your help." Her accent was rather thick and almost made her sound like she had a lisp. But it was a rather gentle voice that held those words and so it just seemed very innocent and kind. Most people who just met her would think it rather funny. Perhaps this girl had been transfered to the wrong school, eh? Not likely. It was a very bad thing to underestimate any opponent.

"Pardon me," her eyes were practically hidden by the mess of soft fluffy hair, "I had a small cold. I think it almost gone however. But it is nice to meet a classmate. I shall be able to meet the other classmates, ja?"

The lights passed over her eyes oddly. A small gleam in the back of her eyes revealed the implants, their delicate and gentle colors in her pale eyes. It was only fitting that she had animal-like eyes. After all, her Mech was named for a man who's symbol was a wolf. She lowered her eyes and smiled kindly, sweetly.

"I thank you, again," she chirped, "It is very nice of you to help me see around."

[Evil Snowman]

“Well I don’t know if you’ll be able to meet our follow students, as far as I know some of them should be in the gym.” She stated pointing in the direction of the gym, before looking at back at the petite German girl.
“She looks like one of those old porcelain dolls mum collects, could she really be a mech pilot.” She thought
She mentally sighed as it didn’t really matter bother her, nor did it matter if she could pilot a mech it didn’t matter really.
She putting on a simile she looked at Giselle as she thanked her again, making her feeling embarrassed but has usual she was unable to show it so simply tell her.

“Please stop thanking me you making me feel embarrassed.” she stated bluntly looking around thinking about how to being this little tour.
Ciannait looked about planning the tour she that would show Giselle the academy in the shortest amount of time.
“Well first off the cafeteria is right over there it the only place on the grounds to get a meal. Foods not too bad either.” She said pointing at building behind her thinking it was easiest thing to point out as she had just come for it and was easy to see form were she was standing.
It also bought the Irish girl a few more seconds as she hastily tried to plan out everything, as she was still learning her way around.

“So a take it by your ancient your form Germany?” she asked trying to be nice and make small talk with the girl hoping it would make her feel more welcome as she led Giselle towards the gym.
In Canniest mental layout of the academy it was the closest thing that was important and as far as she knew Julian and the other people she knew the names of might still be in there.
The Irish girl hoped this was the case as Giselle had asked if she could meet some of the other students.
If not she’d simply keep the tour going until she had showed the newbie everything important the rest she could figure out herself.

[LovelyAnastasia]

"Oh," the German girl's eyes fell down to her hands, her shoulders slumping a bit. So it seemed she would not be able to meet her classmates yet. They were all hard at work while she was walking about, stumbling over every other english word. Seemed fitting that the sick one would be doing sickly things while the strong ones trained. Her eyes gleamed a bit red under her wild honey brown bangs. But she looked up with a kind smile. Then she noticed the eyes of this girl called Ciannait. Their glimmer resembled the professor who had greeted her, their smile rather similar. It seemed there was no real warmth in the hearts of these warriors. Well. She would have to try and brighten them up.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," she coughed and winced, face flushed, "I did not mean to make you so."

Giselle paid attention, nodding every now and then, but the flush on her face was growing a bit more heated. It was making her a bit dizzy. Perhaps it was not just the normal flush of embarrassment. After all she had been sick earlier in the week. Maybe she had gotten a fever. Rising stress levels caused some fevers, and changing location rose stress levels. The question on her accent made her snap to attention.

"Oh, um," she coughed once more, a bit more harshly this time, "Y-Yes, I am of Deustchland. You are of Europa as well?" Another harsh fit of coughs interrupted her speech. When she was finished she looked up at the taller girl. "Pardon me. I am not feeling well, I think..."

[Evil Snowman]

To Ciannait it seemed Giselle had missed her point as she wasn’t looking for an apology as they were little use to her she just didn’t want to be thanked so much as she was not use to some much gratitude.
“I don’t want an apology I just don’t want you thanking me so much, as I said it makes me feel embarrassed. So just cut the thanking back and I won’t feel embarrassed” She stated with annoyed undertone, this was partly why she stuck to herself as people were so frustrating to interact as very few understood her when she wanted them to.
But soon after she realized again she was out of line with her tone, she hated this part of her speaking in what she taught so rudely only to relies
“Look I’m the one who’s sorry I’m not good at interacting with others.” She pointed out hoping the German girl would understand.

When Ciannait heard Giselle heard she may not be feeling well she mentally sighed.
Her own implants began glowed brighter as Ciannait felt herself become frustrated with Giselle she just wanted to show the girl around and go hide in her room until morning.
She turned and looked at the German girl; unaware her contact lenses were no longer hiding increased the glow of her implants making them noticeable even with them on.
“Fine if you feeling ill I’ll take you to the infirmary, they can sort you out before we finish this tour.” She stated bluntly changing her direction now headed to the infirmary.

“Oh to answer your question, Ireland is my home, so yes form I’m Europe. Any way I hear Germany is a nice country. ” She said still trying to make Giselle feel welcome, despite being frustrated with her.

[Mikael]

Rooftop

Niki Kasteny, still kneeling and cradling Dr. Chiaki's head, took the completely suspicious cigarette that Ace had offered, and looked at it carefully, feeling at the same time all tired and dripping wet-- not the kind she'd rather be at the moment. She didn't see how it was a clue and was about to mumble this aloud when Ace darlingly explained the reason why. She couldn't help but smirk at his not-so-stealthy self-correction from C- (cigarettes) to Chiaki. But now was not the time for poking fun-- especially with the rain now starting to pound the rooftop like it owed the clouds money. Of course, Ace then asked for his eye, which gave her a nasty brainfart before she realized he was talking about an mechanical ocular.

"Oh, uh... actually, I left it back in my office-- in my OVD, you know, the, um... ocular video display," she replied, looking down at the useful bomber jacket Ace pointed out, "We'll get it later, but yeah... a memo would be nice. A report... even better! IN FACT..."

She looked down at Chiaki, trying very hard to prevent her voice from rasping. And then tilted her head back up at Ace. "In fact... why don't you call Commander Grayson? Pretty sure he'll want an update... I can get him a detailed report later..."

Glancing at Reates, Niki then chuckled at Ace, "I'd tell you who's not being useful..."

"C'mon, Reates-- let's get her to her room," Niki told him, slipping her arms through Chiaki's armpits and clasping her hands under the doctor's chest.

She then looked at Ace, mouthing the words, "Call Fox."

"Sorry~" she whispered to Chiaki as she stood and hefted her up, and tried to keep Ace's shirt and jacket on her-- because due to the laws of jiggle physics, contact was inevitable, especially between the best of friends.

Stairwell -- En-transit to Infirmary

"Dammit, Reates, stop dropping her legs!" Niki whispered fiercely as they reached the end of the stairwell.

Panting, Niki realized she was starting to lose her breath. Between the rain and the sweat that had accumulated under not only Ace's clothing, but Chiaki's white jacket, the doctor was becoming too slippery to grasp. Reates had it easy: just hold those ankles under your armpits. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out how.

"If we find a, uh, a fracture in her legs later, I'm writing you up," she warned Reates, three-quarters serious, one-quarter joking.

As Ace opened the door to the hallway ahead of them, Niki spotted an emergency stretcher and suddenly became very grateful when she had opted to get these installed throughout the academy at the 98th teacher-staff meeting several years ago. Ace probably read her mind-- which thrilled her -- and set it up for them. Reates and Niki carefully placed Chiaki on the stretcher, which turned out to be a wheeled version; not all of them sported hover devices. Those were usually put in areas where junk could be cluttered everywhere-- like the hangars!

The three of them-- Ace in front, Niki behind him on his right and at Chiaki's head, and Reates bringing up the rear at the doctor's feet --made haste to the infirmary, their minds too busy and fraught with stress to express annoyance at the stretcher's squeaky wheels.

Infirmary

Getting to the infirmary was easy after finding the stretcher. Getting inside the infirmary, however, was a little difficult. Niki sucked in her breath as she realized Miercoles was there-- smelling quite foul with bar poisons. She adverted her gaze, turned away from her faked-tanned colleague-- additionally, crossed her wet, white tank-topped chest with her arms --and subtly nudged Ace toward Miercoles so that he could deal with him. In doing so, Niki brought her own attention to Ciannait and... what the hell was that, a doll? 'No... too real...' she thought, and then bit her own tongue at the thought: a lot of "things" were incredibly real today...

--Getting caught naked with three different men. At the same time...
--Briefly freaking out on an unparalleled level of tomfoolery...
--Kissing a man she had, until this day, despised with all of her bias...
--Fighting off a fucking velociraptor outside her office that almost ate the librari-- ...

'Aw crap...' she brooded, having completely forgotten that they had left Celestina in her office... sleeping?

Niki figured she'd handle the girl later, and would probably let her sleep there for the night. Rubbing her eyes, she walked up to Ciannait and Giselle, sighing gently.

"Hello girls," she smiled lightly, and then focused on Ciannait, "How are you feeling? Better?..."

While she listened to what Ciannait said, Niki then focused on Giselle, who kept coughing a little bit. The teacher's misty, emerald eyes tryied to see through the girl's honey brown hair that shrouded her big sad-looking brown eyes. Or were they liquid gold? She had no idea, but it made her frown. Big, sad-looking... her thoughts paused. Where had she seen this girl before? The answer came flying from the back of her mind even while she asked herself the question. These words had been her own musings while browsing the German's student profile.

"Oh! I recognize you now, I'm sorry," Niki grinned, being careful not to interrupt Ciannait in case she was still speaking.

Giselle Von Rosenmüller-- the German student she had expected earlier today, among other people who were also rather tardy to attend their first day. But... in a way, Niki realized how much better off the girl was in being late, considering all the bullshit that had taken place. Thus far. Still, life had to go on, especially for a teacher who loved her students, even the naughty ones.

<Miss Rosenmüller, I am pleased you are here. Do you remember me and my letter? I am Niki Kasteny> Niki spoke to her in perfect albeit emotionless German. <I realize that you are quite tardy, but do not worry about this. Hahaha. You will not be punished, but I do expect see you in my class tomorrow afternoon, after lunch. If you need me for anything, please do not hesitate to ask me at any hour>

Nodding, and satisfied with her rusty German, she turned back to Ciannait, "Thanks for taking care of her-- I gotta get back to the infirmary... Dr. Chiaki's had a ... bad day... actually, come with me, you two."

Turning on the heel of her good foot (the other one was still a little sprained), Niki limped slightly back to the infirmary door, turning once to gesture at the girls to follow if they hadn't done so. Once inside, she ignored any conversation that was taking place and led them to a cabinet with a sink below it. Opening it, her finger hovered before a row of high-quality medicine bottles-- and upon landing on the right one, seized it and popped out two pills. She handed those to Giselle, placing them in her hand and closing her fingers over them. Niki then filled up a small, paper cup of fresh, cold water and handed it to her.

<Put the tablets in your mouth, then the water, and swallow> Niki instructed brusquely in German.

She then smiled sweetly at her and Ciannait, and felt half-guilty that she was mothering them. Honestly, though, Niki didn't really care-- she needed this outlet to vent her stress. The teacher then decided that Giselle was not pampered enough and turned away to fetch some more things. In the corner was a mini-fridge with a closed cardboard box, and Niki opened the box, retrieved a few pack of saltine crackers. Then, opening the mini-fridge, she retrieved a few bottles of lemon lime soda. Since the War, aluminum was needed for more important thing-- and so soda cans were almost a rare sight nowadays.

Niki returned the food and drink to Giselle and Ciannait, gesturing them both to a small table with a few chairs.

"Eat up, girls. Gonna need your strength tomorrow," she explained, glancing at Miercoles on the other side of the room-- the sight of him nearly caused her to go berserk right then and there.

But... she didn't. In fact, she scoffed and took one of the cracker packs and sodas, and then meandered over to Miercoles, her eyes half-squinting as if she'd turn to stone if full eye-contact was made. She spoke loud enough so that Giselle and Ciannait could eavesdrop if they wanted to.

"If I hafta teach your class tomorrow, your ass is grass 'cuz I'm the lawnmower around here, remember?" she stated coolly, tossing the soda bottle and crackers at him.

Leaning against the end frame of a hospital bed across from him, Niki waited for his unwitty response and crossed her arms-- no point in giving a drunk a free show. She glanced, for a moment, over her shoulder at the inner room behind her. Through the window, she could see Chiaki resting peacefully in her bed, thanks to Ace and Reates. After hearing out whatever Miercoles had to say, she'd go check on Chiaki personally.

Student Gym

For the third or fourth time in a row that day, Julian rushed forward to catch the falling body of one of his friends. Not that it bothered him-- it was good exercise and practice if nothing else. Only, Stephen at least had enough strength left to balance himself. Still, the bambino of war felt very obliged to Stephen and slipped himself under his organic arm and hefted him up. Or cried as he tried.

"Oh Lordy! Figured you'd weigh less without your other arm," Julian groaned, half-chuckling as he let Stephen back down to his kneeling state.

"K-Kainan, help... oh wait... um, Sofiya? Scarlett?" he called over to the Russians.

"Hold Stephen still, please..." Julian asked them kindly, before rushing over to the nearby wall to retrieve a hoverable emergency stretcher. He flipped the on-switch on the stretcher-- it hummed to life and majestically hovered 4ft above the ground. 'Damn, these things are handy!' Julian thought as he brought it over to his friends.

"Now let's get him on here, 1-2-3!" he counted down as the three of them lifted their king onto the board.

"I'll get Kainan..." Julian stated, walking over to him and chuckling as Kainan was still laying on the bench, wondering where all the soft warmth had gone.

Dealing with Kainan was actually easier than Stephen-- having had time to recover in the presence of a lady's lap-- the catalyst that sped up any process --the boy was at least conscious enough to attempt zombie-walking; however, Julian told him to stand still, and asked the Russian ladies to moved the hover-stretcher over to them. Easier. Helping Kainan climb up, Julian said, "Okay, now just... just lay next... to each other. This, this should hold. The two of you shouldn't exceed 800-pounds..."

He then instructed (again, with the utmost kindness and shyness) the Russian girls to make haste to the infirmary, and to try to avoid bashing the hover-stretcher into the walls like a bumper car. He explained that he was going to pick up Stephen's arm parts and he'd be with them soon enough. Waving good-bye, Julian turned around, all alone in the Student Gym. Looking into a nearby garbage can, Julian was thrilled to see that it was mostly empty. He carefully lifted the black bag out and tossed out a couple empty plastic bottles. He then began the tedious process of picking up Stephen's mechanical arm parts-- at least the important parts. Screws and nuts were replaceable. Of course, some of the parts were Bearclaw's--

--Whoosh!

"Oh, hello..." a voice uttered behind him.

Julian whirled around to see who it was, dropping his black garbage bag in the process. An unhealthy level of fear seized his heart as he licked his lips.

Infirmary

As soon as Scarlett and Sofiya shuffled Stephen... ok. I'm writing that over again.

The infirmary door slid open, its sensors responding to the presence of an stretcher. As the King of Rumble Students, and one of his trusted fighters, emerged through the door in classic tow by two Russian ladies of Doom! whatever conversation Niki was having with Miercoles, not necessarily interrupted, became utterly devoid of the M-CARE teacher's attention. She flew to her feet, her mouth agape and her eyes glued to Stephen's left arm... or lack thereof. That Kainan laid next to him, looking worse than an actual piece of burnt toast, did not help matters whatsoever.

"What! Happened! To!... him!?" Niki shouted to nobody in particular, as she pointed at Stephen.

And when nobody in particular did not reply to her fast enough (how could they, really?), you'd thought Niki channeled Rico and it was bloody murder in the infirmary all over again. The (5ft, 4in) teacher trained her poisonous green eyes on Scarlett and Sofiya, turning to the girls fully. She then reached out to them and, seizing them both by the front of their shirt and tank-top, respectively, pulled them both to her. Bending the tall Russians over and down to her level-- and smacking Scarlett's left cheek with Sofiya's right in the process --Niki looked at one and then the other, inhaling air sharply. Her exhale, however, was full of smoke and flames.

"I'll listen to your stories first," she told them, a few tears slipping down her cheeks in the midst of her stern demeanor.

She was starting to lose it. With all that had happened on the first day of school, Niki didn't mind that most of it happened to her. But then, it had messed with Chiaki. And now, it seemed to have even affected her students. And that was just too much. Whatever it was, it was going to pay, one way or another. She released Sofiya and Scarlett, appearing apologetic for her outburst, but otherwise crossed her arms stiffly as she waited to hear what they had to say for themselves.

Julian had been clever to let someone else take the king to the infirmary, Niki realized.

"Ribbit..." Mr. Ribbits stated from Chiaki's desk, insisting that they all go away. This startled Niki to a half-scream before she sighed and facepalmed herself.

[LovelyAnastasia]

It seemed that Ciannait was not used to conversing with others. The shortness in her tone said it all, and the embarrassed jumble of terse tone then frustrated apology also brought this to Giselle attention. With a patient and gentle smile, the German girl shrugged. It was best to simply allow a more comforting silence to envelop the two. Surely this would please her new classmate, and that was really all she wanted. Well, that and to stop coughing.

Giselle caught sight of the other girl's eye implant as they walked to the infirmary. It made her smile a bit more sadly. Was it bad to feel so happy that the other girl had eyes somewhat like her? Giselle didn't really try to hide her eyes, at least not intentionally, but it was comforting to be around someone more like her. Was it bad to feel happy that this other girl had eye implants? Happiness and guilt mixed and tumbled about inside of her. That and the muddling fever. It was all a bit dizzying.

"Danke sehr," she murmured gently, "You are a very kind person, Ciannait."

Infirmary

The small and doll-like girl stood quietly in the room, glancing up at her new classmate in suppressed excitement. It was still a buzz, meeting someone so much like her. Transferring to this school had been quiet the brilliant idea. But there had been a sore sight to damper the glimmering excitement in her round sorrowful doe-eyes. A man that reeked of ale and other assortment lounged about, and he did not seem to be another student. It annoyed her a bit, the sight of this man. What sort of teacher drank himself to withers and did not hide his shameful actions from his students? It was no where near professional.

A woman entered with another on a stretcher and a rather large man (which was amusing since almost everyone was bigger than her). The woman who was rather wet (which made Giselle blush a bit, since it seemed very scandalous to be so damp and in such little clothing) turned to look at Ciannait and her. That familiar gleam passed her eyes as she looked at Giselle. Did everyone here have such an antisocial and cold look in their eyes? Or was it just towards Giselle? Blushing in shame at her apparent fall from whatever expectation they had imagined, the gentle and sorrowful German girl wrung her fingers nervously. Her face was too heated and her coughs were a bit more harsh and jagged. This stress was not helping her condition.

The woman walked up to Ciannait and Giselle, sighing gently. Was she so disappointed in Giselle's appearance? If only she was taller, stronger and more athletic... But she wasn't. The woman spoke lightly and even smiled, but those misty emerald eyes startled her. The teacher (for it was obvious since this was an older woman) locked eyes with her and it was like Giselle was paralyzed. The woman frowned and Giselle's face melted into tearful shame. She was not what the woman had been expecting. Weak and frail-looking, it was obvious that she would have to claw her way up to a respectable status among these people.

"Oh! I recognize you now, I'm sorry," the teacher grinned, <Miss Rosenmüller, I am pleased you are here. Do you remember me and my letter? I am Niki Kasteny> It was a lovely accented way of speaking, but far too emotionless and empty to be her lovely Germany's true language. But the woman continued.<I realize that you are quite tardy, but do not worry about this. Hahaha. You will not be punished, but I do expect see you in my class tomorrow afternoon, after lunch. If you need me for anything, please do not hesitate to ask me at any hour>

Bowing her head and focusing her doe eyes on her old shoes, her head slightly bobbed in acknowledgement. She wanted to like this teacher, please her and receive praise, like a small child vying for innocent attention, but she felt as if she had already let this teacher down. Fraulein Niki was just another person disappointed by her and burdened by her un-warrior like appearance.

"I apologize," she said softly. Those words, so delicate and sweet on such a musical accented tongue, seemed to be words used very much by the German girl. After all, she had spent most of her life apologizing for her existence; a burden outside of Olaf, Giselle was rather used to apologizing. But when she was in her Mech she was a shining warrior, able to protect and defend better than any other German college girl.

But the teacher was still kind, like Herr Fox and Ciannait. Even in disappointment and frustration they were still so kind to her. But soon she would be able to prove herself to them; soon she would be able to unburden them. They would see that she was not as much of a disappointment and maybe they would smile whole-heartily at her. That was enough to brighten the fragile German girl. Fraulein Niki handed some pills to her, closing her fingers over them. The woman even filled up a small paper cup of water for her to help the pills go down. With a delighted smile, Giselle nodded, her wavy honey brown hair bouncing around her like a wild bright halo. Doing as she was told, she swallowed the pills and water.

"Thank you very much," she beamed up at the teacher, in innocent and almost child-like delight. Such sincerity radiated in her eyes, one would of thought that woman had blessed her a reason to live. She actually enjoyed the mothering actions. It made her feel very welcome. Not one for words, Giselle walked over to the other side of the room to throw the cup away. On her way back she passed the drunken man. Her eyes flashed a gentle red in the change of light, but her face showed no difference in emotion. Sitting at the offered table, she happily munched on her crackers, sitting as pretty as a doll. The soda was a real treat and soothed her tender throat. The medication was already taking affect and it felt so nice to be relieved of all that coughing and dizziness.

Miercoles was on the other side of the room and Giselle felt herself staring at him. For some reason... she didn't like him at all. It wasn't just the stench of alcohol, but something she couldn't explain. She just didn't like him. It seemed Fraulein Niki was also put-out with the man. The annoyed tone in her voice as she spoke (even though Giselle couldn't quiet follow all those odd slang words) made it apparent that the male teacher was not in good favors at the moment. But he still got crackers and lovely sweet soda. Fraulein Niki was far to nice.

The infirmary door slid open, its sensors responding to the presence of an stretcher. A male student caught her eye first. Then two female classmates and the stretcher, of course. Fraulein Niki flew to her feet, her face molded into a mask of horror. Following the teacher's eyes she could understand why. A boy on the stretcher was missing an arm and the other looked more burnt than her brothers' attempts at veal cutlet schnitzel. Sinking back in her seat, hiding in those too-big-hand-me-downs, Giselle clutched her soda. But as the female teacher screeched and seized and slapped, the doll-like German went over to the two boys.

<You do look unwell> she smiled a soft and apologetic smile, murmuring in German, <But you are like me too. I wonder what happened...>

Gently she pressed her fingertips to joint that was missing it's limb. Her wavy brown hair fell in her face like a soft veil. Looking over to the rather scorched boy, she bit her bottom lip. Wanting to be useful she gather things that might be needed for their wounds. It would be best if the Fraulein only focused on one thing at a time. She looked rather shaken at the moment. Looking up at the woman, she smiled a soulful-eyed and gentle smile. She wished she would be of more comfort to the distressed woman.