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Mathew stood in the middle of the Tutorial with arms folded waiting for his next combat evaluation. This one however lacked a power that would help her. He was already scowling in displeasure because of that. He wasn't expecting much.
The voices in the flashbacks carried warning tones along the lines of 'he doesn't hold back punches' and the ever lovely 'you're pretty much toast'. What was she doing here again?
Janie reminded herself, in no small words, that she didn't give half a damn about anything this school stood for. She was here not because of any of her convictions, but rather in spite of them. Logically she should have just stopped short of the door, had a brief moment of rumination on her decidedly puny mortality, and then turned around. But she went through.
Not because of any of her convictions, but rather in spite of them.
"Sir," the blonde girl sporting vibrant Puma dryly murmured. She held even eye contact, fearless though she was the ant before eater. She had a backpack on, one of those slightly-too-small drawstrings. Pylons bulged and strained against the fabric. "This is the part where I essentially get hazed?"
"You're task is to make me bleed before I hospitalize you."
His eyes looked her over as his tongue clicked in disapproval. The words came out in a dull tone, words that had left his mouth more times than he could count over the years. It would take more than a brave face and convictions to impress him.
He wasn't impressed, but realistically that wasn't happening anytime within the next quarter century. No big deal, Janie didn't have much of a pride to injure anyways. What she did have were a number of bones to break. She'd have to keep that count to a minimum, she had only paid so much into her insurance this month.
"Yeah, but I'm guessing it's not part of your routine to actually answer." Janie slid the bag off her shoulders, with a fumbling lack of grace that didn't bode well for her immediate future. It found a new home by her feet, yawning open. She otherwise didn't move. Down to the individual muscle, anticipatory tension turned her into a particularly stony statue.
"Huh, okay." At least her throat muscles were still operational. "What precisely is the point of making a noncombatant duke it out as well? Teach a lesson? Staid bureaucracy and tradition? Sheer hell of it?"
"Because we are at war, and our grounds is a target. Just the other day we were attacked right here. By being a part of Paradigm you are painting a target on your back. Field Agent or not."
Yep, her friends had left something out. To be fair, she was equal parts to blame for not having reasoned it out herself. The police force of a nation at war made it's individual members attractive, and not in the aesthetic sense. Like. Duh.
"This is the part where I should admit I'm out of my element and turn tail." Janie shrugged her tiny shoulders. "But somewhere Freud is laughing to the bank because it turns out I also enjoy this somehow. I'm the sheeple, it's me." Lambs to the slaughter, witnesses to the train wreck. "If I get beat to a pulp will my hospital bill be at least partially compensated?"
« Last Edit: Feb 15, 2016 20:43:45 GMT -6 by Janie Miller »
What wasn't so nice was the wicked locking sharp thing his arm had become. But Janie hadn't lied, somehow this all seemed more exciting than it was terrifying (though it was still plenty terrifying). What the hell was wrong with her? Not a question that it made sense to vocalize in this context, so her lips moved no more. She simply waited, hoping that her muscles weren't so locked that she couldn't barely spring into action.
Action time. Uh, crap. Janie did manage to squeak out a response, because getting bisected wasn't conducive to her general well being. Snap backwards, good. Nearly trip, bad, but she managed to right herself and make a swipe at her bag. A thick silvery wrench was produced, which probably wasn't a worthy weapon for this (or any) spar, but it was close enough. She tried to swing back but the angle was awkward, and she only succeeded in getting some backwards momentum and disengaging. But now she no longer had access to the rest of the stuff in the bag.
Just her and a wrench against a guy with weapons for DNA or whatever.
"Yeah, sorry I don't have a black belt in three different language- holy fuck!"
She took some surface abrasions over her fingers but blessed reflexes, those things that even scrubs like her had some amount of, got the death trap out of her hands in time. The once proud wrench now looking like the next coming of Sauron clattered to the ground.
"Are you kidding me?" Hold up, she knew that answer already. "Super powers, that's right. Fuck me. Not literally." She held her ground. Hopefully her assaulter was reasonably constrained by the laws of physics, as a bare minimum consolation. If he attacked and if she dodged he'd be busy for a moment. Enough time to try something else.
She didn't take the bait, though. Whether she'd end up regretting that or not. He was still not quite at the part where he charged and hurt her. She wanted to retreat but she held her ground. Something was coming together in her head...
« Last Edit: Feb 15, 2016 22:31:54 GMT -6 by Janie Miller »
Well if she didn't look behind her than the blunted pillar slamming into the small of her back would be quite a surprise! Mathew thrusting the sword arm toward her was probably less so.