After waiting a moment in final appraisal, Abel joined Nevin's hand with his own and shook very firmly. With a clear goal in mind, the two set off to find a vending machine.

The first twenty minutes passed with no result. Distracted by the intricate, impressive architecture and interspersed foliage, neither Abel nor Nevin made good time. The Guardian felt obliged to try and scope out the school as much as possible, even in the little time he had before the assembly and with the risk of going even hungrier on the line. Again and again he peered into the castle-like building's tinted windows, trying to get a glimpse of what awaited him inside. However, the glass proved impenetrable. He contented himself to walking on the alert, not speaking much to Nevin.

Finally, in a sort of plaza alcove, Abel discovered a picnic table, a garbage bin and its blue recycling brother, a drinking fountain, and two vending machines. One of them offered various pops and a few varieties of commercial teas -he even spotted People Like Grapes on there, his favorite soda- but the snack vendor was the one he had in mind. Unfortunately, it seemed that he wasn't the only one with this idea. 

Standing on either side of the vending machines were two more teenagers. One was a boy his own age and easily half again his weight, a 5'10” mass of muscle and fat topped with a mess of ruddy brown hair. The other was a willowy girl, sly and foxlike, with red hair done in two braids. Though they couldn't have been more different superficially, their features (particularly their stone-gray eyes) and their clothes (pressed white shirts with ruffled sleeves, drab green cargo shorts for the guy and a similarly-colored skirt for the girl, both help up by suspenders) created an instant, unspoken connection between them. Before Abel could get a word out, the pair launched into conversation.

“Thinking of a nice snack?” The girl's voice was high and nasally, grating on the ears.
“We were, but look who decided to ruin the mood.” The boy's voice was low and smooth, but contorted in such a way that every word that crossed his lips seemed like mocking sarcasm. It became apparent that they were talking in perfect alternation.
“And we just got settled too. It'd be much nicer if you two buggered off and minded your own beeswax somewhere else.”
“Not enough room here for the twos of us. Beat it!”
“Scram!”
Taken aback, Abel took a few steps back, not wanting to make a scene. This caused the teens to grin in triumph. The two moved closer together until they were standing side by side. Seeing both of them together confirmed that they were almost certainly related. Brother and sister? Whoever they were, they wasted no time in beginning to talk again. This time, the boy went first.
“Well that was easy. Not as tough as you look, huh?”
“A coward, a doormat, a cake walk!”
“There you go with the food metaphors again, Gretchen.”
“There you go thinking about your belly again, Hansen.”
“We'll grab a bite to eat after we finish with this loser, huh?”

At that point, Abel broke down. “Hey! I don't know who you think you are, but if you're feeling like getting your sorry asses handed to you I'd be more than up for a fight!” He brandished the Ampere, its shining blade pointed in the direction of the siblings. He really didn't want to fight, but these two made him see red. At this point, he wasn't thinking at all about Nevin; he had practically forgotten him.

Instantly, the weapon was joined by two more. The boy pulled an item from his back, and it instantly expanded into a huge halberd fashioned to look like it was made of bones. The girl held a tennis racket-sized implement that looked like a cattle prod, though rather than electricity, it sparked with fire.

“Hah! You're even dumber than you look if you think you can take us on, buddy. If your friend's twice as smart as you, you might have a chance.”
“And you're polearm's not as big as mine.”
“Enough compensating, Hansen! We've got some dickheads to fry.”
“If you insist, Gretchen. Come on then, sunshine!”