Panom shook his head, fucking Americans. He had been looking forward to a fight, but not of this kind. Back home he had to fight for food, fighting with it struck him as the dumbest thing ever. The soldiers stationed in the school did'nt seem to have a clue what to do and most of the students had got so wrapped up with the whole retarded thing that it was likely to rage for hours.
No one had hit Panom yet, which was good for them. All the other students in this school seemed to either be great huge super hero-like sports wiz's, or complete losers. There was almost no middle ground in this school, no normal people, and Panom, he was unfortunately inclined to admit to himself, was no exception to this rule. Okay, he played no sport, he was average height for a fifteen year old thai, which was'nt much, and he did'nt have a lot of friends to back him up. There was however no need to dispute the fact Panom knew only to well, he could take out pretty much anyone in this room with one hit. As he knew this, he also knew he did'nt have to worry about getting involved either. There was nothing for him to prove and seeing as he had'nt yet been hit, or even sat down for that matter, there was no need for him to hang around. Panom wanted a fight, but did'nt want to start one over something as trivial as being hit with food, again something he would have been grateful over back home. Essentially, he decided the best thing for him to do would be to leave now.
He was not the only one thinking this either. Jack smiled as the scene around him unfolded. Another one of his spontaneous ideas had tragically backfired, but at the same time resulted better than he could have hoped. Rather than tension easing, it had exploded into all out war. Yet despite this the excitement, the fun, the rebellion Jack had unleashed appealed to him so much that he could'nt help but be proud of the whole thing and his importance in causing it.
The again, he thought as he narrowly ducked a cast-iron soup flask, perhaps things were getting a little too out-of-hand for it to be worth hanging around. Jack loved a little action. but he was'nt rich and the Prada jacket he was currently wearing would not look good splattered in 'thousand-island-dressing-peach'.
The two boys simultaneously made for the door, Panom merely strolling, confident in his ability to dodge any oncoming barrage, and Jack sprinting, hidden behind a food tray he had plucked from the air.
They made it to the door at the same time and had to pause to prevent knocking eachother down. Panom looked down at Jack (despite being shorter than him by a few inches, Jack was huddled down to avoid being hit by any stray mash-potato) and thought how often this sort of thing happened. Consantly it seemed, Jack did stupid things that he had not thought through in any way, and the results of these things were almost always...well pretty similar to this. Panom shook his head, and rushed out of the door first. Jack chuckled in his little way, he knew what Panom had been thinking, and he was right.
'Soddit', laughed Jack and tossed down his tray, 'I started this did'nt I!?'
With that, he lifted a slab of pizza from the floor and, baring his shiny teeth into that trademark grin, launched it.
An International Phenomenon
Another RP From the SOTF Universe! (2018 note: also sort of v1 Meanwhiles)
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"Shit!" before Roger had responded to his challenge, some smartass had thrown a sandwich at him and Tony, causing a massive food fight to erupt. Ducking under a table after an orange barely missed his head, Thomas looked around from his low (and uncomfortable due to his height and bulk) vantage point for a place to exit from the chaos. Food was flying around everywhere, and the cafeteria resembled a rioting ground, a few real fights actually breaking out between food-covered students. Eventually, some of the guards moved from their post to try and break up a fight getting too close to them for comfort and Thomas made his move. Ducking out from the table, he grabbed a tray and threw it into a nearby group of students to dissuade them from targeting him and then made a beeline for the door vacated by the guards, slamming into it with his shoulder and pushing it all the way back to the school wall due to the force of the blow before moving outside.
Now I just wait for the shit to stop stirring. he thought, leaning against a wall and waiting for the food fight to end.
Now I just wait for the shit to stop stirring. he thought, leaning against a wall and waiting for the food fight to end.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
In an ecstasy of food-drenched rapture, Jack swung his fists round in a wide arc, knocking several more trays flying and causing another student to stumble back and land into a pile of food dressing.
'This is pure condiment carnage!' He called out to a nearby friend, who made the mistake of looking over to nod in agreement and took a particularly nasty blow to the chin with a half-full milk cartoon, which promtly burst on contact, splurting the semi-congealed full-fat mess all over his upper half. Jack let off an entirely nasal gust of laughter at his friends misfortune. Fucking hell this was fun.
'Better than snow day man!' He noted to the same friend, who spat a large globule of milk at his face as a response. Jack was too wrapped up in the moment to care however. He had gone from trying to ease the tension, to trying to escape the chaos, now he was totally engrossed in the whole situation. He hummed a little power ballad whilst he swung his fists in a windmill style, the food fight now resembled a mosh pit. Like snowball fights and water fights always do, the food fight had lost the former element to it's name and divulged solely into the latter, a fight. This is whats good about being a teenager, thought Jack in his head, fighting for fun with no consequen...!
His thoughts were cut short. The guards had moved in at last, and the particuarly active Jack had obviously caught their eyes, because now they had closed in on him and, with a man to a limb, they carted him away.
'Bloody kid is always causing havoc, well this is it. They'll put him down as a political activist and fix his wagon once and for all, little prick.' The gaurds laughed amongst themselves whilst they watched Jack being carted off, the gaurd who had made the comment giving Jack a little wink as he looked over in confusion at the snickering soldiers.
'This is pure condiment carnage!' He called out to a nearby friend, who made the mistake of looking over to nod in agreement and took a particularly nasty blow to the chin with a half-full milk cartoon, which promtly burst on contact, splurting the semi-congealed full-fat mess all over his upper half. Jack let off an entirely nasal gust of laughter at his friends misfortune. Fucking hell this was fun.
'Better than snow day man!' He noted to the same friend, who spat a large globule of milk at his face as a response. Jack was too wrapped up in the moment to care however. He had gone from trying to ease the tension, to trying to escape the chaos, now he was totally engrossed in the whole situation. He hummed a little power ballad whilst he swung his fists in a windmill style, the food fight now resembled a mosh pit. Like snowball fights and water fights always do, the food fight had lost the former element to it's name and divulged solely into the latter, a fight. This is whats good about being a teenager, thought Jack in his head, fighting for fun with no consequen...!
His thoughts were cut short. The guards had moved in at last, and the particuarly active Jack had obviously caught their eyes, because now they had closed in on him and, with a man to a limb, they carted him away.
'Bloody kid is always causing havoc, well this is it. They'll put him down as a political activist and fix his wagon once and for all, little prick.' The gaurds laughed amongst themselves whilst they watched Jack being carted off, the gaurd who had made the comment giving Jack a little wink as he looked over in confusion at the snickering soldiers.
I am an archival account used by staff to port old posts from handlers no longer active. If you are this handler, get in touch with staff and we can get your posts back for you! Minase avatar by Kermit.
{OoC- I figured that I would give Rping my druggie/villain a shot before I Rped him in v2, so without further ado I give you my first ever post with Jonathan Michaels)
The hectic aura that the food fight had created didn’t affect the local celebrity Jonathan Michaels in the least, he almost seemed enthralled in the actions of his fellow students, the food was thrown back and forth in an erratic manner that made following the action almost impossible, the indifferent emerald eyes focused upon the scene at hand, the nature of the students seemed almost obscene to him, however he was more focused on the thing that he was fingering in his pockets, said object was a lighter along with the lighter was a object that was no bigger than about two inches, it was wrapped elegantly in a paper like substance.
How that one thing in his pocket mocked him, how it caused so much conflict to build in the lean muscular frame of Jonathan Michaels. He recalled days that where spent partying, he recalled his time spent with other celebrities, he recalled the days where he’d simply sit naked on a couch as some groupie fixed him coffee, more than anything else however he recalled the exhilaration he’d felt in the ring, he recalled the faint crackling sound as his fist made contact with the skull of the champion of the feather weight division, a smile broke onto his face as the man hit the mat, three rounds of fighting and he was crowned Featherweight champion of the world, the title seemed to mean so little now.
He laughed to himself as he referred to his current station as a normal highschooler, how could his parents expect him to go from the biggest teen idol in America to a simple student? Another good question was how the school had accommodated him due to SOTF, they had made sure his body guards where not allowed to enter and instead replaced them with guards holding various Assault Rifles.
On SOTF he couldn’t say he had much of an opinion on it, he of course was rooting for Adam Dodd, not for any outlandish reason like everyone supported Adam for (Most kids rooted for Adam because he was a hero of some sort), but more so because Adam just had the best odds. He had survived the longest, as far as boxing goes if you’ve been boxing for a longer time you already have an advantage since you’re aware of others fighting style, two Adam had a very good repertoire of weaponry…then again he was getting dangerously close to Cody Jenson (who was under the guise of a student named Andrew) and if Adam kept it up he would find himself with an axe in the back of his head.
Crosby caused an enigma of feelings to go through Jonathan’s head, Crosby and himself had met on numerous occasions (Crosby was the youngest rising star in sports and Jonathan was the youngest star in sports…it worked quite nicely for them to meet as much as possible) and he couldn’t help but wonder that if Crosby had been chosen, he might be as well, that feeling of uncertainty caused Jonathan to spend many sleepless nights just staring at the window overcome by fear, it was then that Jonathan would resist reaching into his pocket and just smoking that marijuana cigarette the most.
As the food fight unfolded Jonathan dodged a wad of mash potatoes heading his way, he saw a flash.
Great, now a picture of me dodging a wad of mash potatoes will be on every magazine in the country…
The hectic aura that the food fight had created didn’t affect the local celebrity Jonathan Michaels in the least, he almost seemed enthralled in the actions of his fellow students, the food was thrown back and forth in an erratic manner that made following the action almost impossible, the indifferent emerald eyes focused upon the scene at hand, the nature of the students seemed almost obscene to him, however he was more focused on the thing that he was fingering in his pockets, said object was a lighter along with the lighter was a object that was no bigger than about two inches, it was wrapped elegantly in a paper like substance.
How that one thing in his pocket mocked him, how it caused so much conflict to build in the lean muscular frame of Jonathan Michaels. He recalled days that where spent partying, he recalled his time spent with other celebrities, he recalled the days where he’d simply sit naked on a couch as some groupie fixed him coffee, more than anything else however he recalled the exhilaration he’d felt in the ring, he recalled the faint crackling sound as his fist made contact with the skull of the champion of the feather weight division, a smile broke onto his face as the man hit the mat, three rounds of fighting and he was crowned Featherweight champion of the world, the title seemed to mean so little now.
He laughed to himself as he referred to his current station as a normal highschooler, how could his parents expect him to go from the biggest teen idol in America to a simple student? Another good question was how the school had accommodated him due to SOTF, they had made sure his body guards where not allowed to enter and instead replaced them with guards holding various Assault Rifles.
On SOTF he couldn’t say he had much of an opinion on it, he of course was rooting for Adam Dodd, not for any outlandish reason like everyone supported Adam for (Most kids rooted for Adam because he was a hero of some sort), but more so because Adam just had the best odds. He had survived the longest, as far as boxing goes if you’ve been boxing for a longer time you already have an advantage since you’re aware of others fighting style, two Adam had a very good repertoire of weaponry…then again he was getting dangerously close to Cody Jenson (who was under the guise of a student named Andrew) and if Adam kept it up he would find himself with an axe in the back of his head.
Crosby caused an enigma of feelings to go through Jonathan’s head, Crosby and himself had met on numerous occasions (Crosby was the youngest rising star in sports and Jonathan was the youngest star in sports…it worked quite nicely for them to meet as much as possible) and he couldn’t help but wonder that if Crosby had been chosen, he might be as well, that feeling of uncertainty caused Jonathan to spend many sleepless nights just staring at the window overcome by fear, it was then that Jonathan would resist reaching into his pocket and just smoking that marijuana cigarette the most.
As the food fight unfolded Jonathan dodged a wad of mash potatoes heading his way, he saw a flash.
Great, now a picture of me dodging a wad of mash potatoes will be on every magazine in the country…
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
((OOC: I'm assuming the guards are fair game for everyone, but if not, disregard the second part of my post...))
As the chaos continued, Brittany, Cassie and Carlina made introductions to David and Vesa. Cassie blushed quite hard when she took the hand the Finnish boy gave her, seeing as how she was talking about asking him out to the annual Christmas dance just minutes earlier. She was about to ask him to go to the football game against Phoebus with her when all of a sudden, a tray hit Cassie right in the center of her chest. And while Brittany shrieked loudly at the sudden shower of meat, milk and vegetables, Cassie stood up and inadvertantly shoved her chair across the cafeteria and stormed over to where Jack and the other kid were. Though she wasn't one to react violently toward anyone, she, like most everyone else engaged in the lunchroom war, waited until she got hit with a food item or beverage before entering the fray.
Cassie managed to find a tray with an assortment of items that had landed on it, then looked around for someone to launch it at. Her face lit up when she saw Jack and his friend launching milk cartons at each other. With surprising accuracy, she whipped the tray at them, hoping that it would score a direct hit onto her target.
"Ah-hah! Take that you little punk!" she said loudly before being forced to make a hasty retreat when she saw the guards coming...
***************
As the guards were taking Jack away, they were startled when they heard a voice coming from the doorway to the cafeteria.
"Hey! Let him go...he didn't start it!" Jack's eyes widened when he heard the voice...a voice with a pronounced accent. It was Vesa.
"Beat it, kid," the guard holding Jack's left arm said, "We're taking this little punk down to Whittaker's office and we'll be glad to come back for you."
This set off something in Vesa as he was not about to back down. "Listen...I saw what happened, and even though I got hit with a half-eaten sandwich, he did nothing wrong. He was just trying to keep this girl from getting her face beaten in by these two punks...I saw it all."
"I said beat it!" The guard waved his gun in front of him in an attempt to intimidate Vesa, but he could see that the safety was still on; when he was younger, his family would often go on vacation in the mountains of northern Finland. There, his father taught Vesa and his two brothers how to shoot rifles and often had their own biathlons in the backwoods. But more importantly, he taught them to be safe around firearms and always have the safety on when not in use...which the guard was clearly displaying.
"This kid didn't start the fight," Vesa growled, "he kept one from happening!" His words were coming out of his mouth a little quicker as he continued. "If he didn't throw that tray, then something bad would've happened...and...minä tehdä ei ajatella te huolia että jotta sattua. Ei model after sinun katsella." (I don't think you would want that to happen. Not on your watch.) The guards turned and looked at each other as Vesa swapped languages right before their very eyes, then turned back to see him ready to unleash another tirade. "Nyt kuluva kakara on vitun syytön, ja tokko minä tonkka hankkia aito paskapää että alku elintarvikkeet kahakoida, minä tahtoa lyödänsa perse jotta malto edeltä minä antaa hänelle aikana." (This kid is fucking innocent, and if I can find the real shithead that started the food fight, I will beat his ass to a pulp before handing him over.) Vesa smacked a clenched fist into his open hand before finishing. "So maybe you should find the little punk that escalated it and let him go!" This drew the ire of the second guard and a passing teacher, which happened to be his history teacher, a slim, younger woman named Roberta Sanchez.
"Mr. Turunen!" she snapped, "Let these men do their job! I'm sure Mr. Whittaker will resolve this in an appropriate manner." Mr. Robert Whittaker was the vice principal and like most high school vice principals, dealt with discipline. And even though he seemed a little harsh and intimidating to some, he was still a very popular figure among the students at Breckenridge.
Vesa took a moment to catch his breath before acknowledging that he was outgunned, literally and figuratively. "Yes, Mrs. Sanchez...though I have to wonder if things have calmed down enough."
"Fair enough...now go back in the cafeteria, Vesa." Vesa nodded and swished the hair out of his eyes before turning back. The guards proceeded to resume taking Jack away, but the one that started it had a few parting words.
"I'll remember this, Turunen...so you better not cross me." he sneered. Like a blur of purple, black and gold, Vesa spun back around and stared him in the eye.
"Imaista minun kyrpä, mutsinnussija!" (Suck my cock, motherfucker!) Both the guard and Mrs. Sanchez were in shock and before either of them could make another move, Vesa was back in the cafeteria amongst the mob of unruly students.
***************
Vesa returned to the table where David and the three girls were, and immediately they could tell that something wasn't right. Brenton was in the middle of the battle zone, flinging whatever he could at whoever was in his line of sight as the Finn sat back down.
"What's the matter, Vesa?" asked David.
"That fuckin' guard..." he growled, "I thought they were here for protection, not to start shit wtih us! But I have to find the kid that let this get out of hand..."
Cassie was the first to mention something as she wiped the mashed potatoes out of her eyes. "I think I know the kid who really started it," she announced, "Some dorky kid that I see on the bus...oh, what's his name?"
"Forgot another one, huh?" chimed Carlina, "I swear you'd forget your own name sometimes." She got a cold stare in return for her witty comment.
"Shut up, CJ! I know who it is...it's that little weasel boy in Mr. Craven's 3rd hour art class..."
"You mean Finis Ward, Cass?" Brittany said. Finally, the light bulb went off.
"Yeah, that's it! The red-headed Irish kid that lives at the end of my street...I know his parents. That and I've started calling him Scrat cause of his hair; that and he can be a real spazz sometimes."
This was the break Vesa needed to bust this wide open. "So if I find this...Finis Ward...will he talk?"
"I don't know...Vesa," said Cassie in an alluring tone that drew stares from the other two girls. Vesa didn't say anything as his cheeks began to get a little more red in them. He saw Cassie every day in his history class and never really thought much of her...and now she was putting the moves to him as he tried to focus on getting his hands on Finis. But the distraction was getting to him as well as he sat back in the chair and tried to think...and then he saw him...Jonathon Michaels...the young boxer. He knew that he had hung out with SOTF contestant Sidney Crosby...the same Crosby that was selected first overall by the Pittsburgh Penguins the past summer while Vesa was turning the heads of NHL scouts at the junior world championships. "What the hell..." he thought as he waved him over.
"Hey!" he called out, "I know you...Jonathon Michaels, the boxer...care to have a seat with us?"
((OOC: Mr. Whittaker, the vice principal, is open for everyone to use if they wish to. And Rainbow, if you do decide to engage Vesa in a conversation, try mentioning the scouts to him...he doesn't have a clue!))
As the chaos continued, Brittany, Cassie and Carlina made introductions to David and Vesa. Cassie blushed quite hard when she took the hand the Finnish boy gave her, seeing as how she was talking about asking him out to the annual Christmas dance just minutes earlier. She was about to ask him to go to the football game against Phoebus with her when all of a sudden, a tray hit Cassie right in the center of her chest. And while Brittany shrieked loudly at the sudden shower of meat, milk and vegetables, Cassie stood up and inadvertantly shoved her chair across the cafeteria and stormed over to where Jack and the other kid were. Though she wasn't one to react violently toward anyone, she, like most everyone else engaged in the lunchroom war, waited until she got hit with a food item or beverage before entering the fray.
Cassie managed to find a tray with an assortment of items that had landed on it, then looked around for someone to launch it at. Her face lit up when she saw Jack and his friend launching milk cartons at each other. With surprising accuracy, she whipped the tray at them, hoping that it would score a direct hit onto her target.
"Ah-hah! Take that you little punk!" she said loudly before being forced to make a hasty retreat when she saw the guards coming...
***************
As the guards were taking Jack away, they were startled when they heard a voice coming from the doorway to the cafeteria.
"Hey! Let him go...he didn't start it!" Jack's eyes widened when he heard the voice...a voice with a pronounced accent. It was Vesa.
"Beat it, kid," the guard holding Jack's left arm said, "We're taking this little punk down to Whittaker's office and we'll be glad to come back for you."
This set off something in Vesa as he was not about to back down. "Listen...I saw what happened, and even though I got hit with a half-eaten sandwich, he did nothing wrong. He was just trying to keep this girl from getting her face beaten in by these two punks...I saw it all."
"I said beat it!" The guard waved his gun in front of him in an attempt to intimidate Vesa, but he could see that the safety was still on; when he was younger, his family would often go on vacation in the mountains of northern Finland. There, his father taught Vesa and his two brothers how to shoot rifles and often had their own biathlons in the backwoods. But more importantly, he taught them to be safe around firearms and always have the safety on when not in use...which the guard was clearly displaying.
"This kid didn't start the fight," Vesa growled, "he kept one from happening!" His words were coming out of his mouth a little quicker as he continued. "If he didn't throw that tray, then something bad would've happened...and...minä tehdä ei ajatella te huolia että jotta sattua. Ei model after sinun katsella." (I don't think you would want that to happen. Not on your watch.) The guards turned and looked at each other as Vesa swapped languages right before their very eyes, then turned back to see him ready to unleash another tirade. "Nyt kuluva kakara on vitun syytön, ja tokko minä tonkka hankkia aito paskapää että alku elintarvikkeet kahakoida, minä tahtoa lyödänsa perse jotta malto edeltä minä antaa hänelle aikana." (This kid is fucking innocent, and if I can find the real shithead that started the food fight, I will beat his ass to a pulp before handing him over.) Vesa smacked a clenched fist into his open hand before finishing. "So maybe you should find the little punk that escalated it and let him go!" This drew the ire of the second guard and a passing teacher, which happened to be his history teacher, a slim, younger woman named Roberta Sanchez.
"Mr. Turunen!" she snapped, "Let these men do their job! I'm sure Mr. Whittaker will resolve this in an appropriate manner." Mr. Robert Whittaker was the vice principal and like most high school vice principals, dealt with discipline. And even though he seemed a little harsh and intimidating to some, he was still a very popular figure among the students at Breckenridge.
Vesa took a moment to catch his breath before acknowledging that he was outgunned, literally and figuratively. "Yes, Mrs. Sanchez...though I have to wonder if things have calmed down enough."
"Fair enough...now go back in the cafeteria, Vesa." Vesa nodded and swished the hair out of his eyes before turning back. The guards proceeded to resume taking Jack away, but the one that started it had a few parting words.
"I'll remember this, Turunen...so you better not cross me." he sneered. Like a blur of purple, black and gold, Vesa spun back around and stared him in the eye.
"Imaista minun kyrpä, mutsinnussija!" (Suck my cock, motherfucker!) Both the guard and Mrs. Sanchez were in shock and before either of them could make another move, Vesa was back in the cafeteria amongst the mob of unruly students.
***************
Vesa returned to the table where David and the three girls were, and immediately they could tell that something wasn't right. Brenton was in the middle of the battle zone, flinging whatever he could at whoever was in his line of sight as the Finn sat back down.
"What's the matter, Vesa?" asked David.
"That fuckin' guard..." he growled, "I thought they were here for protection, not to start shit wtih us! But I have to find the kid that let this get out of hand..."
Cassie was the first to mention something as she wiped the mashed potatoes out of her eyes. "I think I know the kid who really started it," she announced, "Some dorky kid that I see on the bus...oh, what's his name?"
"Forgot another one, huh?" chimed Carlina, "I swear you'd forget your own name sometimes." She got a cold stare in return for her witty comment.
"Shut up, CJ! I know who it is...it's that little weasel boy in Mr. Craven's 3rd hour art class..."
"You mean Finis Ward, Cass?" Brittany said. Finally, the light bulb went off.
"Yeah, that's it! The red-headed Irish kid that lives at the end of my street...I know his parents. That and I've started calling him Scrat cause of his hair; that and he can be a real spazz sometimes."
This was the break Vesa needed to bust this wide open. "So if I find this...Finis Ward...will he talk?"
"I don't know...Vesa," said Cassie in an alluring tone that drew stares from the other two girls. Vesa didn't say anything as his cheeks began to get a little more red in them. He saw Cassie every day in his history class and never really thought much of her...and now she was putting the moves to him as he tried to focus on getting his hands on Finis. But the distraction was getting to him as well as he sat back in the chair and tried to think...and then he saw him...Jonathon Michaels...the young boxer. He knew that he had hung out with SOTF contestant Sidney Crosby...the same Crosby that was selected first overall by the Pittsburgh Penguins the past summer while Vesa was turning the heads of NHL scouts at the junior world championships. "What the hell..." he thought as he waved him over.
"Hey!" he called out, "I know you...Jonathon Michaels, the boxer...care to have a seat with us?"
((OOC: Mr. Whittaker, the vice principal, is open for everyone to use if they wish to. And Rainbow, if you do decide to engage Vesa in a conversation, try mentioning the scouts to him...he doesn't have a clue!))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Croco. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Jack had been through this before and was'nt the least bit afraid of what was going to happen to him. He knew that the official records of the system had already marked him out as a potential renegade, a breacher of the peace and even perhaps on some level, though he had never really taken interest in any organised resistance, a political activist. He had been threatened with being sent to a borstal school, sent to a re-habilitation centre and had even spent a real spell of time in a youth-detainment facility. He was'nt really an anarchist, and had no interest in smashing the state, he just never thought about the consequences of his actions. Despite all he had been through however, he never had to fear any serious consequences befalling him on account of his reckless behaviour.
Whilst another boy with the same record as him might have long ago found himself in permanent 'rehabiliton', Jack had never done more than a few weeks community service for any of his crimes.
When all the other kids who destroyed property, caused riots and disrespected official personell were finding themselves being locked up in 'schools' for criminally insane youths, Jack was out scott-free and doing as he pleased.
Was this because deep-down, everyone knew Jack was good at heart and no harm to the system really? Or was it because he benefitted to society in other ways, possibly through high sporting or academic achievement? No, it was none of that. It was due to the same corruption that throughout history has always allowed truly 'bad-eggs' to get away with things no one else would, the cirucmstances of his birth. Put more specifically, the circumstances of his heritage. Put more bluntly, the cirumstances of his parenthood. Put even more blatantly, the cirumstances of his mothers role in society. Put...oh fuckit, his mother was a government official and no matter what Jack did she always got him out of any major trouble in the end. At the end of the day, Jack was just a bit of an idiot sometimes but he never learnt how not to be becuase he always got away with the things he did.
Right now, whilst he was being carted of to the heads office, he knew he would take a verbal beating, maybe a light physical one and perhaps he would find this weekend being taken up mostly by cleaning old, used fag-butts on the freeway, but on monday he would be back in school just like every other student who had'nt 'caused' a riot.
As Jack and his four-man-escort reached the heads office, he was dropped at the door and three of the gaurds headed back in the way of the canteen, the fourth remaining behind to see him in.
'You know boy theres no point in denying you caused that, even if its true that you did'nt, your reputation is going to see you kicked out of this place.'
'Whatever' Jack's top lip curled into a scowl, as though the guard had just let of a particularly pungent whiff of gas 'I'll be back in school with everyone else just you wait and see, and as for denying causing that thing back there, why the hell would I bother? I don't wanna see some whelp take credit for my doing, I'm sodding well proud of the debacle!'
***
Not to far away, Panom watched intently as the two guys squared of to one another outside the heads office. Typical Jack, thought Panom. He did'nt know the guy well, but he had seen this happen so many times before. He did'nt understand why Jack kept getting away with these things, or why he had'nt yet learned to keep his head down.
Since Panom had been in the school, he had seen Jack do countless times things that any other student would have been incarcerated for. One time a class of kids had organised a sit in in one of the art rooms. They had locked themselves up and sung protest songs and gone all out anarchist. Soldiers had been called in with tear gas to end the situation, a lot of peopel thought this would be Americas Tiananmen. Then Jack, as if it were the only sensible thing to do, had started a fire in one of the chemistry labs they had set of the sprinkler system and the alarms and put the whole school on alert. The soldiers had been sent to clear up the fire and meanwhile all the protesters escaped back into the school. No one could actually verify what students had protested and they all got away with it. Jack disapeared temporarily but within a month way back in school same as ever. Any one else would have got prison for setting a classroom on fire and yet he got away with it.
Another time, a student and a teacher had been arguing and in a fit of rage the student went to smack the teacher with a stool. Thinking quickly but not altogther wisely Jack had removed a 100% full, glass water bottle from his bag and heaved it in the direction of the teachers head. It had, fortunately for him, missed and smashed on the wall behind, but rather than getting irate and kicking Jack half-way down the hall-way, the teacher had simply pursed his lips, asked both Jack and the other student to take their seats and then he got on with the lesson.
It was insane, the stuff Jack got away with. Every time it looked like another student was going to put their foot in it, Jack leapt right in and stuck his face in it. Yet , almost as though he had dimplomatic immunity, Jack never got in any serious trouble whatsoever.
It enraged Panom that he could'nt figure out why Jack could do these things he did, but he decided he would'nt work it out by spying on him verbally abusing a guardsman, and so, relucantly, he headed back down the hall towards the lunchroom, glancing back a few times to catch a glimpse at the red-faced Jack, a look of true confusion on his face.
Whilst another boy with the same record as him might have long ago found himself in permanent 'rehabiliton', Jack had never done more than a few weeks community service for any of his crimes.
When all the other kids who destroyed property, caused riots and disrespected official personell were finding themselves being locked up in 'schools' for criminally insane youths, Jack was out scott-free and doing as he pleased.
Was this because deep-down, everyone knew Jack was good at heart and no harm to the system really? Or was it because he benefitted to society in other ways, possibly through high sporting or academic achievement? No, it was none of that. It was due to the same corruption that throughout history has always allowed truly 'bad-eggs' to get away with things no one else would, the cirucmstances of his birth. Put more specifically, the circumstances of his heritage. Put more bluntly, the cirumstances of his parenthood. Put even more blatantly, the cirumstances of his mothers role in society. Put...oh fuckit, his mother was a government official and no matter what Jack did she always got him out of any major trouble in the end. At the end of the day, Jack was just a bit of an idiot sometimes but he never learnt how not to be becuase he always got away with the things he did.
Right now, whilst he was being carted of to the heads office, he knew he would take a verbal beating, maybe a light physical one and perhaps he would find this weekend being taken up mostly by cleaning old, used fag-butts on the freeway, but on monday he would be back in school just like every other student who had'nt 'caused' a riot.
As Jack and his four-man-escort reached the heads office, he was dropped at the door and three of the gaurds headed back in the way of the canteen, the fourth remaining behind to see him in.
'You know boy theres no point in denying you caused that, even if its true that you did'nt, your reputation is going to see you kicked out of this place.'
'Whatever' Jack's top lip curled into a scowl, as though the guard had just let of a particularly pungent whiff of gas 'I'll be back in school with everyone else just you wait and see, and as for denying causing that thing back there, why the hell would I bother? I don't wanna see some whelp take credit for my doing, I'm sodding well proud of the debacle!'
***
Not to far away, Panom watched intently as the two guys squared of to one another outside the heads office. Typical Jack, thought Panom. He did'nt know the guy well, but he had seen this happen so many times before. He did'nt understand why Jack kept getting away with these things, or why he had'nt yet learned to keep his head down.
Since Panom had been in the school, he had seen Jack do countless times things that any other student would have been incarcerated for. One time a class of kids had organised a sit in in one of the art rooms. They had locked themselves up and sung protest songs and gone all out anarchist. Soldiers had been called in with tear gas to end the situation, a lot of peopel thought this would be Americas Tiananmen. Then Jack, as if it were the only sensible thing to do, had started a fire in one of the chemistry labs they had set of the sprinkler system and the alarms and put the whole school on alert. The soldiers had been sent to clear up the fire and meanwhile all the protesters escaped back into the school. No one could actually verify what students had protested and they all got away with it. Jack disapeared temporarily but within a month way back in school same as ever. Any one else would have got prison for setting a classroom on fire and yet he got away with it.
Another time, a student and a teacher had been arguing and in a fit of rage the student went to smack the teacher with a stool. Thinking quickly but not altogther wisely Jack had removed a 100% full, glass water bottle from his bag and heaved it in the direction of the teachers head. It had, fortunately for him, missed and smashed on the wall behind, but rather than getting irate and kicking Jack half-way down the hall-way, the teacher had simply pursed his lips, asked both Jack and the other student to take their seats and then he got on with the lesson.
It was insane, the stuff Jack got away with. Every time it looked like another student was going to put their foot in it, Jack leapt right in and stuck his face in it. Yet , almost as though he had dimplomatic immunity, Jack never got in any serious trouble whatsoever.
It enraged Panom that he could'nt figure out why Jack could do these things he did, but he decided he would'nt work it out by spying on him verbally abusing a guardsman, and so, relucantly, he headed back down the hall towards the lunchroom, glancing back a few times to catch a glimpse at the red-faced Jack, a look of true confusion on his face.
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"I know you...Jonathon Michaels, the boxer...care to have a seat with us?"
Jonathan sighed as the voice rung in his head, how he had tried to avoid confrontation with any student, his eyes narrowed however at the boy who was calling his name, a smile came on his lips at a boy whom he knew only by reputation alone. He was considered a rising star in the rising star business (Jonathan chuckled at his own joke), the hockey player was leagues behind Cody Jenson and Sydney Crosby however he’d been gaining a lot of fame from scouts as of late, Jonathan could only assume that this was because of the disappearance of Sid and Cody.
Jonathan almost felt inclined to take up the kids offer to sit with him, but what might seem innocent to them could turn out into a bunch of panties flying at him (third period had been very tedious due to this), he stared at the table and put on a fake smile.
“Well, I suppose I couldn’t turn down a seat from the famous Vesa.” yes the media face, the face he was renowned for, “I’m not one for hockey, but rumor has it that you’re the next Crosby…I suspect we’ll be having a press conference together any day now.” he said with a gigantic grin on his face, “But let us abandon that media bullshit and talk about the thing on everyone’s mind…SOTF.” Jonathan laughed, “Though I expect you don’t have anything to complain about, with Crosby and Jenson gone…well you’ve been gaining a lot of spotlight, have you not?” Jonathan smiled as he sat down and sipped his coke.
Jonathan’s tone had been polite, but his words where meant to belittle, of course Jonathan himself was being belittled by staying here, he might’ve even be happy if he could trade roles with Crosby, at least then he’d be fighting (something that his parents vehemently made sure that he didn’t do). Jonathan knew that his words where somewhat cruel at best and Sydney’s performance in SOTF betrayed his performance in the ring, he could only quote what his friend online had said (Jonathan was a big fanfic writer…something he wouldn’t tell anyone) and that was “Crosby’s a pussy”.
(Ten awesome points to anyone who can guess which SOTF handler told me that)
Jonathan sighed as the voice rung in his head, how he had tried to avoid confrontation with any student, his eyes narrowed however at the boy who was calling his name, a smile came on his lips at a boy whom he knew only by reputation alone. He was considered a rising star in the rising star business (Jonathan chuckled at his own joke), the hockey player was leagues behind Cody Jenson and Sydney Crosby however he’d been gaining a lot of fame from scouts as of late, Jonathan could only assume that this was because of the disappearance of Sid and Cody.
Jonathan almost felt inclined to take up the kids offer to sit with him, but what might seem innocent to them could turn out into a bunch of panties flying at him (third period had been very tedious due to this), he stared at the table and put on a fake smile.
“Well, I suppose I couldn’t turn down a seat from the famous Vesa.” yes the media face, the face he was renowned for, “I’m not one for hockey, but rumor has it that you’re the next Crosby…I suspect we’ll be having a press conference together any day now.” he said with a gigantic grin on his face, “But let us abandon that media bullshit and talk about the thing on everyone’s mind…SOTF.” Jonathan laughed, “Though I expect you don’t have anything to complain about, with Crosby and Jenson gone…well you’ve been gaining a lot of spotlight, have you not?” Jonathan smiled as he sat down and sipped his coke.
Jonathan’s tone had been polite, but his words where meant to belittle, of course Jonathan himself was being belittled by staying here, he might’ve even be happy if he could trade roles with Crosby, at least then he’d be fighting (something that his parents vehemently made sure that he didn’t do). Jonathan knew that his words where somewhat cruel at best and Sydney’s performance in SOTF betrayed his performance in the ring, he could only quote what his friend online had said (Jonathan was a big fanfic writer…something he wouldn’t tell anyone) and that was “Crosby’s a pussy”.
(Ten awesome points to anyone who can guess which SOTF handler told me that)
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
OOC:Third and I'll say final character (for now) guys meet....
Elizabeth Waters gave Michaels a cold, hard glare. He could'nt see it of course, she was standing behind him, but so uncompromising was her gaze that it was surprsing he didn't feel it pounding into the back of his skull.
Whilst having been momentarily entertained by the delightful image of the four guards dragging away her ex-boyfriend, Jonathans blase attitude towards the SOTF act enraged her greatly. The cocky son-of-a-bitch seemed to be using that grotesque government control-scheme as a form of one-up-manship, just to get a ltitle headway over the strikingly big-headed Vesa Tarunen. He's turning the game of death into a game of 'whos-got-the-bigger-cock-out-of-me-and-you'. She spat, as it was her unduly un-ladylike habit to do so when she was disgusted (and she was most of the time) and the thick globule landed on the dessert-strewn floor, lost amongst a mound of bread and butter pudding.
She shook her short, winding red-dyed locks hastily from her face as she stood forward from the wall upon which she had been leaning and moved closer to the mob of jocks and sluts. Her dense black eyebrows furrowed and her nostrils flared, she was a pure vision of intensity. No man wanted to be before her when she got into this mood, and the target of her rage was always much the wiser for trembling, as it eased her so slightly from her course of brutality. Only one man had ever thawed her icy demeanor and seen anything of the girl beneath it, and he was currently facing off against an armed gaurd quite a distance away. In the midst of chaos, she was the cruel little centre which no one dared enter.
And yet...she was not so cruel. Her apparent harshness stemmed from a life-time of opposition to oppression and wrong doing. If Robin Hood was a criminal, Elizabeth was a bitch, but otherwise she was merely all too often 'misunderstood'. And whilst Jack often found himself facing accusations of rebellion that were entirely unjust, she was always seeking martyrdom and coming up short. The Tiananmen sit-in that Jack had trounced, in order to 'save' the students involved, she was the organiser. Did she apreciate Jack stepping in to 'save' her in this way? Well she would adamantly so 'NO!' but it wasn't long after this event that the two were intertwined in the holy matrinomony of being 'steady'.
That was a while ago now, and a bad memory to Elizabeth. Right now, all her forcefulness, or should you prefer, all her softness, was concentrated on un-doing the wrongs of the fat-headed Jonathan Michaels.
'Oi Jonno! Yes I am talking to you, I don't see too many other spoiled, washed up, never really was but seriously considers himself a has beens - which is really sad by the way - sitting in this lunchroom do you?' She turned her head to face Vesa 'Oh yes, sorry, there is one! Nevertheless, you're the one I want, no scratch that it actually implies that I have a desire to talk to you, lets backtrack a few seconds, I need to point out to you that people died and are dying, right now, in SOTF and however funny you find that, it's really not. Surprise! using it to one-up Eric the Red over there is really lame, I mean I don't know how many people here are fluent in subtext but I understood everything you just said very well indeed, let me translate 'I have a small cock but compensate for it by mocking other people with obviously equal defisits in that region', pretty spot on huh arsewipe? Well look, I know its hard for someone with such an infinitesimally minute brain capactiy to understand the complexities of emotions but I think most people would consider the SOTF a sad thing, and in a form I think you should understand: Sad is Bad, Sad make Liz Mad and mad liz removes whatever pitiful excuses for testicles you keep locked up in your cup down there Jonny boy. You get me, the rhyming there was a real bonus there, might help you remember, okay, that all sorted huh Mr. Michaels?'
Elizabeth Waters gave Michaels a cold, hard glare. He could'nt see it of course, she was standing behind him, but so uncompromising was her gaze that it was surprsing he didn't feel it pounding into the back of his skull.
Whilst having been momentarily entertained by the delightful image of the four guards dragging away her ex-boyfriend, Jonathans blase attitude towards the SOTF act enraged her greatly. The cocky son-of-a-bitch seemed to be using that grotesque government control-scheme as a form of one-up-manship, just to get a ltitle headway over the strikingly big-headed Vesa Tarunen. He's turning the game of death into a game of 'whos-got-the-bigger-cock-out-of-me-and-you'. She spat, as it was her unduly un-ladylike habit to do so when she was disgusted (and she was most of the time) and the thick globule landed on the dessert-strewn floor, lost amongst a mound of bread and butter pudding.
She shook her short, winding red-dyed locks hastily from her face as she stood forward from the wall upon which she had been leaning and moved closer to the mob of jocks and sluts. Her dense black eyebrows furrowed and her nostrils flared, she was a pure vision of intensity. No man wanted to be before her when she got into this mood, and the target of her rage was always much the wiser for trembling, as it eased her so slightly from her course of brutality. Only one man had ever thawed her icy demeanor and seen anything of the girl beneath it, and he was currently facing off against an armed gaurd quite a distance away. In the midst of chaos, she was the cruel little centre which no one dared enter.
And yet...she was not so cruel. Her apparent harshness stemmed from a life-time of opposition to oppression and wrong doing. If Robin Hood was a criminal, Elizabeth was a bitch, but otherwise she was merely all too often 'misunderstood'. And whilst Jack often found himself facing accusations of rebellion that were entirely unjust, she was always seeking martyrdom and coming up short. The Tiananmen sit-in that Jack had trounced, in order to 'save' the students involved, she was the organiser. Did she apreciate Jack stepping in to 'save' her in this way? Well she would adamantly so 'NO!' but it wasn't long after this event that the two were intertwined in the holy matrinomony of being 'steady'.
That was a while ago now, and a bad memory to Elizabeth. Right now, all her forcefulness, or should you prefer, all her softness, was concentrated on un-doing the wrongs of the fat-headed Jonathan Michaels.
'Oi Jonno! Yes I am talking to you, I don't see too many other spoiled, washed up, never really was but seriously considers himself a has beens - which is really sad by the way - sitting in this lunchroom do you?' She turned her head to face Vesa 'Oh yes, sorry, there is one! Nevertheless, you're the one I want, no scratch that it actually implies that I have a desire to talk to you, lets backtrack a few seconds, I need to point out to you that people died and are dying, right now, in SOTF and however funny you find that, it's really not. Surprise! using it to one-up Eric the Red over there is really lame, I mean I don't know how many people here are fluent in subtext but I understood everything you just said very well indeed, let me translate 'I have a small cock but compensate for it by mocking other people with obviously equal defisits in that region', pretty spot on huh arsewipe? Well look, I know its hard for someone with such an infinitesimally minute brain capactiy to understand the complexities of emotions but I think most people would consider the SOTF a sad thing, and in a form I think you should understand: Sad is Bad, Sad make Liz Mad and mad liz removes whatever pitiful excuses for testicles you keep locked up in your cup down there Jonny boy. You get me, the rhyming there was a real bonus there, might help you remember, okay, that all sorted huh Mr. Michaels?'
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A bright smile came over Vesa's face as Jonathon made his way over to where he was sitting. "Vesa Turunen, yes," he said softly, "nice to meet you." He then blinked at the notion that people were seriously watching him, let alone of holding a press conference soon to announce any intentions. "I don't know if I'm ready to go pro yet. Though I did get a call from a guy named Matti Vaisanen, who is a scout for the Minnesota Wild. We spoke for about a half hour and when we were done, they said they might draft me after I play a year of juniors here in North America. I didn't think there was a team out here...that is until David told me about the Foresters." David smiled and nodded to Jonathon as he sat back in his chair.
"Yeah, I was gonna ask the coaches to give Vesa a shot today," said David, "He and I met in the semis at junior worlds...he's a great player that has it all...speed, strength, vision, creativity with the puck. Not to mention a wicked shot and he's not afraid of contact." He gave the Finn a wink before they all fell quiet while Jonathon explained the details of SOTF and immediately, it all made sense for Vesa.
"So Hamilton WAS right..." he thought, "...and not only is Crosby out there, but Cody Jenson? I heard he was supposed to be at worlds but he hadn't quite finished rehab on that injured knee of his..." He then turned to David with a confused look on his face. "Wasn't Jenson supposed to be at worlds?"
David shook his head. "Nope," he said simply, "his knee wasn't quite up to par. And even if it was, then he would've only been on the 2nd or 3rd D-line for Canada. They've got some good ones, y'know."
"Whatever," scoffed Vesa, and he had good reason to. In the Canada-Finland final, he had both Finnish goals in regulation; one coming where he got around a defenseman and connected on a one-timer set up by linemate Erkki Hakala in the left circle, while the second came on a scramble in front of the Canadian net and Vesa was able to corral the loose puck and put it over the outstreched glove hand of goaltender Blaine Evans.
"C'mon, man," David warned, "you can't get too cocky. You can still play with an edge and do stuff that few can do." He then looks at Jonathon again when he mentions Vesa and Crosby in the same sentence. "I have to be honest and compare him more to an Ilya Kovalchuk; he's got four inches and about twenty-five pounds on Sidney and he's a lot more dangerous with the puck in the offensive zone. Trust me, I know from experience."
This interlude gave Vesa a little time to think about what Jonathon said about being in the spotlight. He gave it a good bit of thought as he leaned back in his chair...the feeling of being a high pick in a future NHL draft, and then being able to prove to the world on hockey's biggest stage. Sure, there was the Finnish Elite leauge, but the NHL was the most prestigious league in the world and Vesa knew it. And that scout from the Wild had seen him back in his hometown of Kerava too before he joined the Finnish junior team before worlds...that game, he had four goals for his team, each coming in spectacular fashion as he lead them to an easy victory. But the chance had come...and after a couple years of getting used to hockey in North America, he would be ready to become a dominating force...like an Ilya Kovalchuk.
He then heard Jonathon refer to Crosby as a pussy and immediately started laughing. "Hell yeah, he's a pussy," he chuckled, "I don't think he really came out to play after Davey rocked him and sent him to the ice...you should've seen it, man!" He was referring to the final where Dave Hautamaki, a large, imposing defenseman for Team Finland, checked Crosby into the boards hard early in the first period, thus throwing him off his game every time he saw Dave, who wore number 15, come his way. "You hit him hard enough and often enough, and you'll really fuck him up good. Not to mention that I can outplay him anytime...he had six goals, I had nine...and I'll be sixteen in March. So bring it on...I can't wait to show him up again...that is, if he can get off the island alive..." He knew he had been blessed with skills that only a few in the world could have...and he had been quiet for way too long. And now that he knew he could compete - and excel - on an international level, he knew that he could talk a good game with the knowledge that he can back it up on the ice.
"Yeah, I was gonna ask the coaches to give Vesa a shot today," said David, "He and I met in the semis at junior worlds...he's a great player that has it all...speed, strength, vision, creativity with the puck. Not to mention a wicked shot and he's not afraid of contact." He gave the Finn a wink before they all fell quiet while Jonathon explained the details of SOTF and immediately, it all made sense for Vesa.
"So Hamilton WAS right..." he thought, "...and not only is Crosby out there, but Cody Jenson? I heard he was supposed to be at worlds but he hadn't quite finished rehab on that injured knee of his..." He then turned to David with a confused look on his face. "Wasn't Jenson supposed to be at worlds?"
David shook his head. "Nope," he said simply, "his knee wasn't quite up to par. And even if it was, then he would've only been on the 2nd or 3rd D-line for Canada. They've got some good ones, y'know."
"Whatever," scoffed Vesa, and he had good reason to. In the Canada-Finland final, he had both Finnish goals in regulation; one coming where he got around a defenseman and connected on a one-timer set up by linemate Erkki Hakala in the left circle, while the second came on a scramble in front of the Canadian net and Vesa was able to corral the loose puck and put it over the outstreched glove hand of goaltender Blaine Evans.
"C'mon, man," David warned, "you can't get too cocky. You can still play with an edge and do stuff that few can do." He then looks at Jonathon again when he mentions Vesa and Crosby in the same sentence. "I have to be honest and compare him more to an Ilya Kovalchuk; he's got four inches and about twenty-five pounds on Sidney and he's a lot more dangerous with the puck in the offensive zone. Trust me, I know from experience."
This interlude gave Vesa a little time to think about what Jonathon said about being in the spotlight. He gave it a good bit of thought as he leaned back in his chair...the feeling of being a high pick in a future NHL draft, and then being able to prove to the world on hockey's biggest stage. Sure, there was the Finnish Elite leauge, but the NHL was the most prestigious league in the world and Vesa knew it. And that scout from the Wild had seen him back in his hometown of Kerava too before he joined the Finnish junior team before worlds...that game, he had four goals for his team, each coming in spectacular fashion as he lead them to an easy victory. But the chance had come...and after a couple years of getting used to hockey in North America, he would be ready to become a dominating force...like an Ilya Kovalchuk.
He then heard Jonathon refer to Crosby as a pussy and immediately started laughing. "Hell yeah, he's a pussy," he chuckled, "I don't think he really came out to play after Davey rocked him and sent him to the ice...you should've seen it, man!" He was referring to the final where Dave Hautamaki, a large, imposing defenseman for Team Finland, checked Crosby into the boards hard early in the first period, thus throwing him off his game every time he saw Dave, who wore number 15, come his way. "You hit him hard enough and often enough, and you'll really fuck him up good. Not to mention that I can outplay him anytime...he had six goals, I had nine...and I'll be sixteen in March. So bring it on...I can't wait to show him up again...that is, if he can get off the island alive..." He knew he had been blessed with skills that only a few in the world could have...and he had been quiet for way too long. And now that he knew he could compete - and excel - on an international level, he knew that he could talk a good game with the knowledge that he can back it up on the ice.
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Jonathan simply nodded at Vesa’s rambling, how boring! He looked at the school, what a stupid place it was, and then he heard the girl scream at him, he simply flicked her off and smiled at Vesa.
“Hey man, you want to bail? I’m kinda tired of this shit and these guards gimmie bad vibes, I got about 5 oz. Of snow in my car, good enough for a few lines, and I need to ostracize myself from the never-ending shit hole that is being a sophomore, if you’re up to it meet me by my car…it’s the red Lamborghini.” Jonathan said calmly.
He needed to get out of this school, he had to get out…or he was going to fuck someone up! He wasn’t going to let anyone tell him he’s normal and that chick’s attempt to humble had not worked in the least, he was mad and his hands where visibly shaking, if she reacted…well it would probably result in her getting punched really hard in the face.
(Just not feeling it…)
“Hey man, you want to bail? I’m kinda tired of this shit and these guards gimmie bad vibes, I got about 5 oz. Of snow in my car, good enough for a few lines, and I need to ostracize myself from the never-ending shit hole that is being a sophomore, if you’re up to it meet me by my car…it’s the red Lamborghini.” Jonathan said calmly.
He needed to get out of this school, he had to get out…or he was going to fuck someone up! He wasn’t going to let anyone tell him he’s normal and that chick’s attempt to humble had not worked in the least, he was mad and his hands where visibly shaking, if she reacted…well it would probably result in her getting punched really hard in the face.
(Just not feeling it…)
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Elizabeth did not take Jonathan's ignorance to her reprimand all so lightly. In fact the rage he was struggling to control most likely paled by comparison to her own. She was not, however, a girl of force. When she and Jack had been together it had been very much the case that she was the brains, and he the muscle. He was'nt the toughest kid in the world, nor she the smartest, but combined no one had really thought it smart to mess with either, and most people, it had to be said, wouldn't ever want to anyway. Both Elizabeth and Jack, despite both being from rather extreme schools of heroism, which could get a little tedious on occasion, were insatiably popular.
When Liz began ranting at Jonathan most people had figured she had cause to do so, she never went off on one for no reason, though she did with little reason. Most people also decided it would be best to stay out of the matter, Jonathan was after all not without his own popularity, and of course a certain reputation that ensured the rest of the school feigned as little notice in the two of them now as Jonathan did specifically for Elizabeth.
However, despite her not being a physical girl, she did not fear conflict, in fact she almost seemed to enjoy it most of the time. So it was all the more confusing when she allowed Jonathans blasse attitude to pass. She seemed for a moment as though she would errupt into another one of her typical speeches, but she didn't, she merely looked at him, one lip curling slightly and one eyebrow a little higher than the other...and still Vesa rambled on about ice hockey.
Elizabeth procceeded to exit the nightmare of nourishment that had befallen the canteen without another word, in a flurry of mildy agitated strides. She half-jogged, half-jumped out of the cafeteria of condiment carnage, with such speed and forcefulness she almost seemed to fly out of the doors and into the hallway. Her cheeks a little flushed and her unruly hair fluttering before her eyes, she brushed it aside with a flick of her hand, and her ocular devices met upon, quite suddenly, the fleshy features of a young Thai boy, whom she had almost run right into. She recognised him from school, but had never before paid him much heed. Being that he was a few inches from her face now, she figured it would not do to ignore him this time.
Yet since she did not even know such basic factual knowledge about this boy as his name, she was at a complete loss as to exactly what to say.
For a few seconds silence prevailed, which seemed, to the students, to last several strickingly agonsing centuries. They stood face-to-face, their obvious uncomfortability rising from them like steam. They both blinked in unison, both doubled back as one, and then, both laughed together. Not laughs of mirth but laughs of discomfort which somehow eased the tension between them enough that they could go their seperate ways without passing a word.
Panom (for this was the boys identity) regained his indifferent attitude and Liz re-established her own demeanor, and each hidden behind their respective masks, they parted. Panom noted that the lunch period was drawing to a close and made his way to collect his bag from his locker, whilst Elizabeth made straight in the direction from which Panom had just come.
All this while, Jack had been seated in the office of the head teacher, showing as little interest in what she had to say as was humanly possible. He rocked back in his chair, clicking his tongue, awaiting the inevitable phone call. It came. He feigned ignorance to it's ringing. The head teacher picked up. She listened. She replaced the reciever. Jack looked her right in the eyes.
'I have just recieved a call from your mother Jack. As usual she is inisitant you face the harshest of punishments. If it were in my power I would go a little more easy on you but I can not ignore the commands of a superior authority.'
Bull shit, Jack thought to himself. He always got this same speech. Whilst he knew as well as the head teacher that his mother had just rescued him once again, he also knew she had done so under the impression of imposing even stricter punishment on him that he would have otherwise had. It was all one big fallacy, which used to amuse Jack but now he was totally apathetic towards the whole thing.
'If it were up to me I would remove you from school, as you clearly want, and send you to an institution more suited to a boy of your...mentality. However your mother is far more severe, she demands you not only stay in school, but you stay for longer tonight, so that you might clean up all the mess you caused in the canteen, by hand!'
Jack pretended he was shocked by this. What a joke. Hidden under the mask of stricter punishment he had effectively been 'let off' yet again. Whats more he knew he wouldn't even have to clean up the whole mess whatsoever, because the passively anal head-teacher could never allow it to go un-tidied until the end of the day. At worse all that would be left by the cleaners for him at the end of the day would be a few scrapings of mustard on the windows or ketchup on the radiators.
'With your mother being who she is I am shocked at your recklessness Jack. We do not live in a society easy on criminals, and you must get it far tougher than some of the other students of this school with her constantly there to look over your shoulders, and yet you continue with this life of criminality'.
'Is that even a word?' Sneered Jack.
This was an end to it. The head-teachers forced humility with regards to his mother had to come to an end, she almost puffed up red at the agony of not being able to toss his out of the room by his arse, she hated having no power over him, yet the fact could not be swayed. With a final click of his tongue, Jack marched out of the room his head held high.
'You'll meet your end some day soon Jack Prichard.' She muttered as he left, but he did not hear her.
Jack found himself free once again, and in the empty hallways, the guard he had argued with long gone away. Only, the halls were not so empty, for there before him was Elizabeth Waters. His heart give a lunge, as it only would for her.
Like Jack, Elizabeth was not stereotypically gorgeous, she could not pull her look off without effort, but also like Jack, this effort she was willing to put in. Her clothing framed her admirable figure in all its positivity, whilst hiding any minor imperfections from sight. Her thick eybrows were complimented by well applied mascara that made her bright eyes jump out at you the second you laid your own upon her. They were amazing eyes, they had such a piercing quality that it was no wonder a simple glance from Elizabeth had always been enough to make Jack come running. Her hair suited the tough, slightly on the tom-boy side, persona she always presented, and imbued her with something that can only be defined in one as 'sexiness'. Right now her hands were firmly placed on her well defined hips, her petite but well formed breasts were pushed a little forward and her eyes were narrowed, burrowing straight into Jacks own. It pained him to return her gaze and yet he did so. He knew she wanted something from him, or she wouldn't pay him any notice. He had always loved her more openly than she had ever loved him, though she did, even if she wouldn't admit it, even if she wouldn't take him back, she did love him, in secret, as much as he did her.
'Just got off scott-free yet again I suppose Jack? Always the mothers boy.' She did not smile as she said this, in fact she forced as much contempt into her face as was possible, and she could manage a lot, tough love always having been the school she atributed herself most strongly towards.
'Hardly Liz,' Jack did smile, his feeling on his sleeve, as always 'That mess in the canteen, I have to clean ALL of it up!' Sarcasm dripped from his every syllable.
'There's a mess I could do with you cleaning up for me Jack, his names Jonathan Michaels.'
'What are you on about Liz'
'You know I don't go in for violence, but some guys are so thick skulled words won't work on them!' Emotion crept into Liz's voice, her cold facade cracking ever so slightly but ever so slightly more second by second. 'I just want you to hit him, make him hurt!'
Jack was taken back, more than he had ever been before. This was not Liz speaking, 'Liz, what are you talking about. I'm not going to go and hit a guy for no reason!'
'It's never stopped you before Jack!' Jack felt a pang in his heart at the memory she was conjuring through her implications, 'It's never stopped you before, well now I'm asking you to hit this guy, and there is a reason!' She was breaking down like a child, tears even began to appear. Jack's loss for a knowledge of how to re-act, if anything, grew. He had only seen this side of this a few times and never so strongly presented, her weak, needy side.
'Liz whatever has happened, you won't like me if I do what your asking, or yourself, when your emotions run out. In the long-run, it's best, and you know it, if I ignore you right now, if I just walk away.'
Having said this, he procceeded to act upon his words, or he started to, but Liz reached out for his arm and stopped him. For a while they stared into one anothers eyes, Liz's wide with tears and Jack's wide with aprehension. Then Liz's closed, and she fell, as though entirely broken, into Jacks arms. Neither knew how long they sat in that hallway, in that shuddering embrace, Jack confused as to the route of Elizabeth's breakdown and Liz not willing to speak of it, but they might have remained that way for an era, so important was it to both of them.
When Liz began ranting at Jonathan most people had figured she had cause to do so, she never went off on one for no reason, though she did with little reason. Most people also decided it would be best to stay out of the matter, Jonathan was after all not without his own popularity, and of course a certain reputation that ensured the rest of the school feigned as little notice in the two of them now as Jonathan did specifically for Elizabeth.
However, despite her not being a physical girl, she did not fear conflict, in fact she almost seemed to enjoy it most of the time. So it was all the more confusing when she allowed Jonathans blasse attitude to pass. She seemed for a moment as though she would errupt into another one of her typical speeches, but she didn't, she merely looked at him, one lip curling slightly and one eyebrow a little higher than the other...and still Vesa rambled on about ice hockey.
Elizabeth procceeded to exit the nightmare of nourishment that had befallen the canteen without another word, in a flurry of mildy agitated strides. She half-jogged, half-jumped out of the cafeteria of condiment carnage, with such speed and forcefulness she almost seemed to fly out of the doors and into the hallway. Her cheeks a little flushed and her unruly hair fluttering before her eyes, she brushed it aside with a flick of her hand, and her ocular devices met upon, quite suddenly, the fleshy features of a young Thai boy, whom she had almost run right into. She recognised him from school, but had never before paid him much heed. Being that he was a few inches from her face now, she figured it would not do to ignore him this time.
Yet since she did not even know such basic factual knowledge about this boy as his name, she was at a complete loss as to exactly what to say.
For a few seconds silence prevailed, which seemed, to the students, to last several strickingly agonsing centuries. They stood face-to-face, their obvious uncomfortability rising from them like steam. They both blinked in unison, both doubled back as one, and then, both laughed together. Not laughs of mirth but laughs of discomfort which somehow eased the tension between them enough that they could go their seperate ways without passing a word.
Panom (for this was the boys identity) regained his indifferent attitude and Liz re-established her own demeanor, and each hidden behind their respective masks, they parted. Panom noted that the lunch period was drawing to a close and made his way to collect his bag from his locker, whilst Elizabeth made straight in the direction from which Panom had just come.
All this while, Jack had been seated in the office of the head teacher, showing as little interest in what she had to say as was humanly possible. He rocked back in his chair, clicking his tongue, awaiting the inevitable phone call. It came. He feigned ignorance to it's ringing. The head teacher picked up. She listened. She replaced the reciever. Jack looked her right in the eyes.
'I have just recieved a call from your mother Jack. As usual she is inisitant you face the harshest of punishments. If it were in my power I would go a little more easy on you but I can not ignore the commands of a superior authority.'
Bull shit, Jack thought to himself. He always got this same speech. Whilst he knew as well as the head teacher that his mother had just rescued him once again, he also knew she had done so under the impression of imposing even stricter punishment on him that he would have otherwise had. It was all one big fallacy, which used to amuse Jack but now he was totally apathetic towards the whole thing.
'If it were up to me I would remove you from school, as you clearly want, and send you to an institution more suited to a boy of your...mentality. However your mother is far more severe, she demands you not only stay in school, but you stay for longer tonight, so that you might clean up all the mess you caused in the canteen, by hand!'
Jack pretended he was shocked by this. What a joke. Hidden under the mask of stricter punishment he had effectively been 'let off' yet again. Whats more he knew he wouldn't even have to clean up the whole mess whatsoever, because the passively anal head-teacher could never allow it to go un-tidied until the end of the day. At worse all that would be left by the cleaners for him at the end of the day would be a few scrapings of mustard on the windows or ketchup on the radiators.
'With your mother being who she is I am shocked at your recklessness Jack. We do not live in a society easy on criminals, and you must get it far tougher than some of the other students of this school with her constantly there to look over your shoulders, and yet you continue with this life of criminality'.
'Is that even a word?' Sneered Jack.
This was an end to it. The head-teachers forced humility with regards to his mother had to come to an end, she almost puffed up red at the agony of not being able to toss his out of the room by his arse, she hated having no power over him, yet the fact could not be swayed. With a final click of his tongue, Jack marched out of the room his head held high.
'You'll meet your end some day soon Jack Prichard.' She muttered as he left, but he did not hear her.
Jack found himself free once again, and in the empty hallways, the guard he had argued with long gone away. Only, the halls were not so empty, for there before him was Elizabeth Waters. His heart give a lunge, as it only would for her.
Like Jack, Elizabeth was not stereotypically gorgeous, she could not pull her look off without effort, but also like Jack, this effort she was willing to put in. Her clothing framed her admirable figure in all its positivity, whilst hiding any minor imperfections from sight. Her thick eybrows were complimented by well applied mascara that made her bright eyes jump out at you the second you laid your own upon her. They were amazing eyes, they had such a piercing quality that it was no wonder a simple glance from Elizabeth had always been enough to make Jack come running. Her hair suited the tough, slightly on the tom-boy side, persona she always presented, and imbued her with something that can only be defined in one as 'sexiness'. Right now her hands were firmly placed on her well defined hips, her petite but well formed breasts were pushed a little forward and her eyes were narrowed, burrowing straight into Jacks own. It pained him to return her gaze and yet he did so. He knew she wanted something from him, or she wouldn't pay him any notice. He had always loved her more openly than she had ever loved him, though she did, even if she wouldn't admit it, even if she wouldn't take him back, she did love him, in secret, as much as he did her.
'Just got off scott-free yet again I suppose Jack? Always the mothers boy.' She did not smile as she said this, in fact she forced as much contempt into her face as was possible, and she could manage a lot, tough love always having been the school she atributed herself most strongly towards.
'Hardly Liz,' Jack did smile, his feeling on his sleeve, as always 'That mess in the canteen, I have to clean ALL of it up!' Sarcasm dripped from his every syllable.
'There's a mess I could do with you cleaning up for me Jack, his names Jonathan Michaels.'
'What are you on about Liz'
'You know I don't go in for violence, but some guys are so thick skulled words won't work on them!' Emotion crept into Liz's voice, her cold facade cracking ever so slightly but ever so slightly more second by second. 'I just want you to hit him, make him hurt!'
Jack was taken back, more than he had ever been before. This was not Liz speaking, 'Liz, what are you talking about. I'm not going to go and hit a guy for no reason!'
'It's never stopped you before Jack!' Jack felt a pang in his heart at the memory she was conjuring through her implications, 'It's never stopped you before, well now I'm asking you to hit this guy, and there is a reason!' She was breaking down like a child, tears even began to appear. Jack's loss for a knowledge of how to re-act, if anything, grew. He had only seen this side of this a few times and never so strongly presented, her weak, needy side.
'Liz whatever has happened, you won't like me if I do what your asking, or yourself, when your emotions run out. In the long-run, it's best, and you know it, if I ignore you right now, if I just walk away.'
Having said this, he procceeded to act upon his words, or he started to, but Liz reached out for his arm and stopped him. For a while they stared into one anothers eyes, Liz's wide with tears and Jack's wide with aprehension. Then Liz's closed, and she fell, as though entirely broken, into Jacks arms. Neither knew how long they sat in that hallway, in that shuddering embrace, Jack confused as to the route of Elizabeth's breakdown and Liz not willing to speak of it, but they might have remained that way for an era, so important was it to both of them.
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"Yeah, man...I'll stop on by if I have the time," said Vesa as he watched Jonathon. He could tell that he was in a bad mood by the shaking hands; it usually meant that if someone drew the ire of someone whose hands were shaking like that, then they were bound to get roughed up. So he waited until he was well out of earshot before nudging David with an annoyed frown.
"Mikä by persereikä..." (What an asshole...) he muttered softly, "I don't need to associate myself with that shit." Though he didn't understood a single word of Finnish, David could tell that he was displeased by that encounter.
"Don't let him get to ya, Vesa," he told him. But the damaged was already done as Vesa sat and shook his head.
"If I got in trouble with the law, you know what they would do? They'd send me on a one-way trip back to Kerava and that goddamned academy where I can't even gwt a drink from the fountain without being mobbed...that and...and..."
"And what?" asked Brittany. Behind his sea-blue eyes and golden locked was a side of Vesa Turunen that no one knew about...after the junior world championships, he headed south to Redwood City to meet the family that adopted him in the exchange program while his teammates crossed the Atlantic to return home with silver medals around their neck.
Vesa sat with his head in his hands, elbows holding his arms on the table, trying his best to keep from breaking down into tears. "I knew I was gonna be staying here...and it was me that sent them back to Finland with silver medals instead of gold..."
"What are you talking about?" said Cassie, who was sitting next to him and thus wrapped an arm around his broad, powerful shoulders. He didn't mind the simple gesture of affection as he continued to sit in that position.
"The shootout..." Vesa replied, "...it was all up to me to keep it going...and I missed. I had the goalie beat...and I hit the crossbar." Cassie's arm was joined byDavid as Vesa struggled to keep his emotions in check.
"I know you felt like you let your country down," he said into Vesa's ear. Having beaten the Czech Republic in the bronze medal game earlier that day, David and the rest of Team USA stuck around to watch the championship, during which David was taking notes of the players he liked. And out of those, the two that stood out were Crosby and Vesa as he continued talking. "But I know they don't hate you over there. Keep your head up and you'll find a way to redeem yourself. Maybe the same situation will come up in Vancouver or in another Olympics or worlds. And when that time comes, you'll bury it...remember, redemption doesn't have to come immediately. Head up and you'll be fine." This seemed to cheer Vesa up as he turned to look up at David and smile, leaving no doubt in his mind that he was an excellent leader.
"Maybe you're right...thanks." Vesa then started fishing through his backpack, which was covered in mashed potatoes and bits of meat and vegetables. "Hey David...when do you want me at the rink? My family just got me a whole new set of gear cause they knew I played and wanted to surprise me...the only equipment I have left from worlds are my sticks."
David perked up at the Finn's inquiry. "Oh...practice starts at 4:30 sharp," he said, "Coach Harding doesn't like guys who are late...that means on the ice and helmets strapped at time. I'll come by your place at about quarter after 3 cause I like to be extra early. Where do you live?" Vesa was scrawling out an address on a half-torn piece of notebook paper; when he gave it to David, another smile formed on his face. "Astoria Street...great! I know where that is and it's no more than ten minutes from the rink. I suppose I could spend a little time getting to know your family then...I try not to get there any later than 3:45. "
"Cool," an excited Vesa said, "but I'm sure Otter would like to come as he plays for one of the peewee teams here in Redwood City." He was referring to his 9-year-old adoptive brother Olli, whom he gave the nickname of "Otter" because not only did it sound somewhat similar to his name, but he was an apt swimmer as well. David nodded and wrote it down in his day planner to pick up Vesa at 3:15 while the others carried on with whatever was left of the lunch period.
"Mikä by persereikä..." (What an asshole...) he muttered softly, "I don't need to associate myself with that shit." Though he didn't understood a single word of Finnish, David could tell that he was displeased by that encounter.
"Don't let him get to ya, Vesa," he told him. But the damaged was already done as Vesa sat and shook his head.
"If I got in trouble with the law, you know what they would do? They'd send me on a one-way trip back to Kerava and that goddamned academy where I can't even gwt a drink from the fountain without being mobbed...that and...and..."
"And what?" asked Brittany. Behind his sea-blue eyes and golden locked was a side of Vesa Turunen that no one knew about...after the junior world championships, he headed south to Redwood City to meet the family that adopted him in the exchange program while his teammates crossed the Atlantic to return home with silver medals around their neck.
Vesa sat with his head in his hands, elbows holding his arms on the table, trying his best to keep from breaking down into tears. "I knew I was gonna be staying here...and it was me that sent them back to Finland with silver medals instead of gold..."
"What are you talking about?" said Cassie, who was sitting next to him and thus wrapped an arm around his broad, powerful shoulders. He didn't mind the simple gesture of affection as he continued to sit in that position.
"The shootout..." Vesa replied, "...it was all up to me to keep it going...and I missed. I had the goalie beat...and I hit the crossbar." Cassie's arm was joined byDavid as Vesa struggled to keep his emotions in check.
"I know you felt like you let your country down," he said into Vesa's ear. Having beaten the Czech Republic in the bronze medal game earlier that day, David and the rest of Team USA stuck around to watch the championship, during which David was taking notes of the players he liked. And out of those, the two that stood out were Crosby and Vesa as he continued talking. "But I know they don't hate you over there. Keep your head up and you'll find a way to redeem yourself. Maybe the same situation will come up in Vancouver or in another Olympics or worlds. And when that time comes, you'll bury it...remember, redemption doesn't have to come immediately. Head up and you'll be fine." This seemed to cheer Vesa up as he turned to look up at David and smile, leaving no doubt in his mind that he was an excellent leader.
"Maybe you're right...thanks." Vesa then started fishing through his backpack, which was covered in mashed potatoes and bits of meat and vegetables. "Hey David...when do you want me at the rink? My family just got me a whole new set of gear cause they knew I played and wanted to surprise me...the only equipment I have left from worlds are my sticks."
David perked up at the Finn's inquiry. "Oh...practice starts at 4:30 sharp," he said, "Coach Harding doesn't like guys who are late...that means on the ice and helmets strapped at time. I'll come by your place at about quarter after 3 cause I like to be extra early. Where do you live?" Vesa was scrawling out an address on a half-torn piece of notebook paper; when he gave it to David, another smile formed on his face. "Astoria Street...great! I know where that is and it's no more than ten minutes from the rink. I suppose I could spend a little time getting to know your family then...I try not to get there any later than 3:45. "
"Cool," an excited Vesa said, "but I'm sure Otter would like to come as he plays for one of the peewee teams here in Redwood City." He was referring to his 9-year-old adoptive brother Olli, whom he gave the nickname of "Otter" because not only did it sound somewhat similar to his name, but he was an apt swimmer as well. David nodded and wrote it down in his day planner to pick up Vesa at 3:15 while the others carried on with whatever was left of the lunch period.
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"Geez...get a room you two!" someone laughed good-naturedly behind Elizabeth and Jack. Said person was Alexander Stevens, nicknamed "Blade" on the streets due to his near legendary skill with a knife. He was leader of the Hellbirds gang that had territory around the school (the school itself was technically Hellbirds turf after a settlement with the Prophets* was reached.) and most of the district. Everybody knew it, too, but as long as he didn't do anything wrong nobody gave him any trouble about it, which was wise. As usual, he wore baggy green trackpants and a blue jacket with the Hellbirds logo on the back (the picture of a Phoenix surrounded by fire and the word "Hellbirds" written in a firey font under it), which he wore open to show his well-built frame. He also wore a white headband, which was practically his trademark. Even though his tone was acidic, he had a grin on his face that assured the two he was only joking around.
"I mean it though, this is a school, not a porn studio. Joking aside, either of you see Diftre?" he asked. Even though he was on first name terms with Thomas, he preferred to call him by his last name, and was the only one allowed to do so by Thomas.
OOC:*=I'll explain who the hell they are in another post.
"I mean it though, this is a school, not a porn studio. Joking aside, either of you see Diftre?" he asked. Even though he was on first name terms with Thomas, he preferred to call him by his last name, and was the only one allowed to do so by Thomas.
OOC:*=I'll explain who the hell they are in another post.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Elizabeth stood up and brushed her hair over her eyes, to hide the tears that had formed. She pushed Jacks arms away, though it was too late to hide the fact of where they had been. With her face bright red and venom on her lips she turned to Jack, slapped him hard, turned, and walked away very quickly.
Jack was momentarily dumbfounded, but when he regained his senses he saw the intention behind the action and had to chuckle to himself. He then stood up as well, turning to face 'blade' whom he always referred to as the Karate kid, due to his stupid fashion accesory. It was however, all in good fun.
'Hey there Daniel-sun, he was in the canteen last i saw of him, I can't say he'll still be there though, that place is clearing out pretty fast, if you take your motorbike you might catch him just be sure to look out for any vamps that are after you.' Jack then opened up on 'Blade' with his cheekiest grin, reserved for only his most bottom-of-the-barrel jokes.
Jack was momentarily dumbfounded, but when he regained his senses he saw the intention behind the action and had to chuckle to himself. He then stood up as well, turning to face 'blade' whom he always referred to as the Karate kid, due to his stupid fashion accesory. It was however, all in good fun.
'Hey there Daniel-sun, he was in the canteen last i saw of him, I can't say he'll still be there though, that place is clearing out pretty fast, if you take your motorbike you might catch him just be sure to look out for any vamps that are after you.' Jack then opened up on 'Blade' with his cheekiest grin, reserved for only his most bottom-of-the-barrel jokes.
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"That wasn't a smart thing to say." Thomas said from behind Jack, smirking at the knowledge that he was right at the sight of Alex's
angered glare and his right hand in his pocket. Even though Alex only showed up in school when he felt like it (one of the smarter members of the gang tutored him, hence why he hadn't flunked school. Not surprisingly, said members gang nickname was Einstein.), he had been around enough times for most students to recognise his look and his attitude. Any student watching as Alex slowly walked up to Jack, stopping only when he was nearly in the other boys face, would know what it meant; Jack was in trouble, to say the least.
"Son of a political official or not," he drawled, his tone threatening and cold enough to chill the spine of even the toughest member of the Spartans, "making that crack about me on the street would end with you sliced from throat to gut." without warning, he pulled his hand out of his pocket in a quick sweeping gesture, a breif glint of metal showing that he had pulled out his switchblade and was now aiming for Jacks Adam's Apple with the weapon. That's why it was a surprise when he stopped, his knife right in front of Jacks face, before gently tapping the diplomatically immune boy under the right eye with the side of the blade and pulling the blade away, fluidly flicking the blade back in with a motion that clearly stated the lunge was a warning (as it showed he could've used it on Jack for real if he had wanted) and putting it back into his pocket. Taking advantage of the stunned silence, he continued.
"So be lucky you aren't on the street. Your family name can't protect you from everything-that's why the Royals have such a bad rep, spoiled punks think they can do anything they want because of who the people who fucked each other and spat them out to the world were.-you just be careful and try to shut your mouth when you feel compelled to make such stupid jokes, and we should be fine." that was all he'd say to Jack as he turned to the gathering students with the same glare.
"Well, what are you waiting for? SCRAM!" he shouted, his temper exploded, which of course meant they did exactly that, leaving as quickly as they could while keeping organized, some going back into the dying chaos of the cafeteria to avoid his ire. Alex was built, but nowhere near as muscular as some of the other students (Tony, Thomas and a few of the football team came to mind), but most if not all were still afraid to fight him or simply anger him. His boyish face (complete with light brown eyes) and black hair added even more to his almost unthreatening image, but he was absolutely vicious, almost crazy, in a fight. Even Thomas hesitated at the thought of coming to blows with him, and if he couldn't beat someone personally, he was still the leader of a very tough gang that would most likely do the deed for him (his spotless fighting record stated he never needed that interference though). Thus, when he told someone to jump, no matter who they were, they asked "how high?". Clearing his throat, Thomas hesitantly spoke up, having heard that Alex was looking for him and knowing it was important somehow (Alex never sought him out, especially personally, unless it was a very heavy situation).
"So...you wanted to see me, Alex?" he asked, remembering it was a taboo to refer to Hellbirds members by their nickname outside gang activity as a security measure. Alex quickly turned around, his facial features softening.
"Yeah actually, but it's pretty firey business." he said, meaning "Hellbirds business only" when he said "firey business" and gesturing Thomas to follow him down the hall further from Jacks earshot, which he did, "Meet me and the rest of the guys at Raymonds, whenever possible, but preferably before school's out, alright?" he finished before walking off, deciding he might as well leave the school grounds until lunch period was over, both to avoid the guards and preserve his interest in sticking around.
angered glare and his right hand in his pocket. Even though Alex only showed up in school when he felt like it (one of the smarter members of the gang tutored him, hence why he hadn't flunked school. Not surprisingly, said members gang nickname was Einstein.), he had been around enough times for most students to recognise his look and his attitude. Any student watching as Alex slowly walked up to Jack, stopping only when he was nearly in the other boys face, would know what it meant; Jack was in trouble, to say the least.
"Son of a political official or not," he drawled, his tone threatening and cold enough to chill the spine of even the toughest member of the Spartans, "making that crack about me on the street would end with you sliced from throat to gut." without warning, he pulled his hand out of his pocket in a quick sweeping gesture, a breif glint of metal showing that he had pulled out his switchblade and was now aiming for Jacks Adam's Apple with the weapon. That's why it was a surprise when he stopped, his knife right in front of Jacks face, before gently tapping the diplomatically immune boy under the right eye with the side of the blade and pulling the blade away, fluidly flicking the blade back in with a motion that clearly stated the lunge was a warning (as it showed he could've used it on Jack for real if he had wanted) and putting it back into his pocket. Taking advantage of the stunned silence, he continued.
"So be lucky you aren't on the street. Your family name can't protect you from everything-that's why the Royals have such a bad rep, spoiled punks think they can do anything they want because of who the people who fucked each other and spat them out to the world were.-you just be careful and try to shut your mouth when you feel compelled to make such stupid jokes, and we should be fine." that was all he'd say to Jack as he turned to the gathering students with the same glare.
"Well, what are you waiting for? SCRAM!" he shouted, his temper exploded, which of course meant they did exactly that, leaving as quickly as they could while keeping organized, some going back into the dying chaos of the cafeteria to avoid his ire. Alex was built, but nowhere near as muscular as some of the other students (Tony, Thomas and a few of the football team came to mind), but most if not all were still afraid to fight him or simply anger him. His boyish face (complete with light brown eyes) and black hair added even more to his almost unthreatening image, but he was absolutely vicious, almost crazy, in a fight. Even Thomas hesitated at the thought of coming to blows with him, and if he couldn't beat someone personally, he was still the leader of a very tough gang that would most likely do the deed for him (his spotless fighting record stated he never needed that interference though). Thus, when he told someone to jump, no matter who they were, they asked "how high?". Clearing his throat, Thomas hesitantly spoke up, having heard that Alex was looking for him and knowing it was important somehow (Alex never sought him out, especially personally, unless it was a very heavy situation).
"So...you wanted to see me, Alex?" he asked, remembering it was a taboo to refer to Hellbirds members by their nickname outside gang activity as a security measure. Alex quickly turned around, his facial features softening.
"Yeah actually, but it's pretty firey business." he said, meaning "Hellbirds business only" when he said "firey business" and gesturing Thomas to follow him down the hall further from Jacks earshot, which he did, "Meet me and the rest of the guys at Raymonds, whenever possible, but preferably before school's out, alright?" he finished before walking off, deciding he might as well leave the school grounds until lunch period was over, both to avoid the guards and preserve his interest in sticking around.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.