Row after row were inspected with his scalding gaze.
Cadets stood to the stiffest of attention. These were his most seasoned students; their rehabilitation was nearly at an end. They were the Seniors and they knew what was expected of them, in excruciating detail. He stalked past them at a stiff gait, eyes peeled for a scuffed shoe or a stray hair. The simple uniform of fitted khaki green pants and matching shirt were, on each girl, pressed and starched to perfection. Supple and sensible black boots shone brighter than bright on each pair of feet.
He came to an abrupt halt at the front face of the five inspected rows.
"Girls, inspection over. At ease."
A subtle ripple of relaxation trickled through the ranks. Shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the girls who dared, snuck a peek at the commanding figure they all loved and loathed in equal measure. He stared back impassively, analytically. The riding crop was, as ever, tucked neatly under his arm, ready to address any infraction he might happen across. He allowed the silence to spiral under the spring sun for a moment longer, before clearing his throat and throwing an arm to the imposing building that loomed large behind them.
"Your time here is nearly at an end, your education is almost complete. And that means that you are all leaving here with what?"
They were to answer in unison and with pitch-perfect accuracy.
And they knew it, their answering chorus filling the lightly scented air.
"Integrity, industry and independence, Sir."
He nodded approvingly, renewing his pacing, scrutinizing the front row with every step. Their eyes followed him subtly, their hearts hammered silently. This was his first finishing class, his debut into the world of legally imposed rehabilitation, with a twist. A corporal twist. Their names, surnames of course, rattled off in his head as he stalked up and down.
McClune, Davis, Jacobson, Lomas, DeMarco, Potterton, Allermond…
His seven most testing, but subsequently rewarding, students. These seven girls had arrived as brash and brawling eighteen-year-olds, and were leaving as well-educated, well-adjusted twenty-one-year-olds. Their extensive criminal records, upon completion of the three-year programme, would be expunged and they were primed to attend the university of their choosing on a full scholarship. They nearly hadn't made it. On so many occasions, he had been a whisper away from snatching up the phone and calling the prison board, informing them that said girls had been determined as Class A.
Not suitable for specialized rehabilitation.
But his stubborn streak had prevented that. He would not suffer failure, he would prove himself and he would raise these girls from the dredges from whence they came. Even if it killed him, or them. All seven had spent more than their fair share of time in his office… receiving… special attention. Their eyes kept his riding crop in full view as he stalked up and down and he allowed himself a private smirk.
Experience was an invaluable teacher.
His voice, clear and commanding, easily carried over the crowd.
"And what does one do with integrity, industry and independence?"
Their chorus was once again, spot on.
"Better oneself, Sir."
He nodded thoughtfully, engrossed in contemplation as he eyed them. The days of their morning inspections, of daily drills and intensive classes were coming to an end. He had watched every single one of them flourish, albeit with an initial reluctance under his and his staff's tutelage. He might never be in a position to say it, but he felt it.
Pride.
"That's right," he praised quietly, "And what does everyone here have the potential to be when they strive to better themselves?"
He smiled inwardly at their enthusiastic response.
"Extraordinary, Sir."
He believed that, he truly believed that, and it taken gruelling commitment and accepting hatred on a mass scale, but he had finally gotten them to believe it, too. He saw himself in these girls. In these bright, talented… misguided girls. He saw himself in McClune, in defensively sarcastic, wildly untameable McClune. He saw himself in Davis, in distrusting and suspicious Davis. He saw himself in Jacobson, in intelligent but disinterested Jacobson. He saw himself in Lomas, in damaged and betrayed Lomas. He saw himself in DeMarco, in introverted and introspective DeMarco. He saw himself in Potterton, in awkward and misplaced Potterton.
But it was Allermond that held up the clearest mirror.
She and he had warred for a solid two years.
She had defied and defied and he had reasoned and reasoned. She had defied and defied and he had warned and warned. She had defied and defied and he had punished and punished and… they began to make progress. Some girls, he learned, responded better to a firmer hand than others. What worked with DeMarco, didn't work with Jacobson. That had been his biggest learning curve, appreciating the individual and responding accordingly.
And as he stared out over his first graduating class, he was happy in his learnings.
"Extraordinary indeed," he replied thoughtfully. "Ok, graduation preparations are on the agenda for this morning, you will all skip first period and report to Coach Finnerty for a rundown on how it's all going to shape up. She's expecting you in the games hall and she does not, as you know, like to be kept waiting."
He cleared his throat.
"Dismissed."
The usual gurgle of voices piped up at his command and the girls broke formation and mixed freely. Excitement buzzed in their circles, their imminent release back into society growing more pressing by the day. He watched them go, working through the day's schedule in his mind, before being interrupted by a scrumptiously stalling Allermond. He raised a brow in question, but the girl remained deliberately mute and he realized she wanted a private word.
When the last girl but she turned the corner, he cleared his throat.
"Allermond, what can I do for you?"
She eyed him cautiously for a moment, before taking a deep breath.
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"
He nodded immediately.
"Granted."
She took a step closer and braced herself. He could tell that this was something she had been working up to for a while and worry pierced him. Allermond was unpredictable on her best day and what was about to come out of her mouth was anyone's guess. She eventually spit out the words she was chewing on.
"I got accepted into Columbia. I'm going to be a lawyer."
What he would term a "stupid smile" burst onto his face as his eyes widened.
"Wow. Allermond, that's-"
"Because of you," she interrupted, a very rare occasion and even rarer to go unchallenged. "If you hadn't terrorized me on a daily basis for three years, I never would have got it together enough to do this and I'd have a record hanging over my head for the rest of my life. I know you were close to determining me as a Class A so many times and I… I just wanted to say thanks… for you know, not doing that. Even if it did mean that you beat my ass six ways from Sunday on the daily."
He snorted and shook his head with a wry grin.
Classic Allermond.
"You're as eloquent as ever, Allermond. But I'm very happy for you. Hard work always pays off in the end, remember that. Now, report to Coach Finnerty before she has my head on a stick."
The girl grinned, and he saw in HD clarity, the difference in her.
"Scared, Sir?"
He shook his head in bemused exasperation.
"What was that you were saying about an ass beating, Allermond?"
She laughed and turned, running off after her classmates without another word. He watched her retreating back for a moment and allowed himself to taste the fruits of his labor. These girls had started off as being the bane of his life and now… now they were a significant blessing in it, not that they'd ever know that.
He would take that secret to his grave.
These girls could never ever know he had a soft spot for them.
They would take that inch and spin a mile worth of rope to hang him with.
The crunch of tires on gravel caught his attention and he dismissed Allermond and her sass from his mind and braced himself for his next challenge. The new freshman class of the Seattle Salvation Academy for Young Women had arrived. Of course, that was just a fancy name that the government insisted on using. SSA was a military style boot camp for delinquent women, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, with a history of criminal offending from the age of fourteen and up. SSA was their last chance saloon before doing real time at a state facility and having a criminal record for the rest of their lives. It was a new incentive, designed to combat the staggering increase in criminal offending in the under thirty-fives. Separate facilities for male and female cadets were springing up all over the nation.
Essentially, these centres were a softer option than a real correctional facility.
Save for a few key differences.
One, a cadet had to request and apply for admission to a centre and be at least eighteen years old i.e. of majority.
Two, a cadet had to, in doing so, consent to the use of reasonable corporal punishment.
Three, a cadet had to, in writing, commit to investing in the improvement of themselves through education and other means of support, or face reassignment to a real correctional facility.
The bus pulled to a halt and he walked slowly alongside it, coming to a rest at the opening door and bracing himself for the next three years of his life. Consoling his frayed nerves, he rehashed the conversation with Allermond. If he could cure that imp of her destructive ways, he could deal with whatever was about to come off that bus. Not yet dressed in their Seattle Salvation Academy uniforms, the young women that slouched off the bus were clad in their own, and to his mind, outrageous clothing.
The driver and two prison officers hopped off and handed him the call sheet.
Before rapidly hopping back on and tearing out the gates they had just come through, each thanking God he wasn't the one who had to deal with the hells angels they'd just dropped off. He sighed at their theatrics and set to work, feeling all eyes on him and being utterly unbothered by the fact. For the most part, each girl was too out of her element to cause any trouble, that usually began when they found their feet and he had no issue in dispatching them into the care of his deputy, Mandy, who had appeared at his side silently, as she always did.
Making short work of the list, he called out the last name and scowled internally when the girl in question stubbornly ignored him, folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes very pointedly in his direction.
He closed his eyes and growled his most fearsome growl.
"Steele, Anastasia."
Still nothing.
Beside him, Mandy smiled a small smile and murmured under her breath.
"Meet your new Allermond, Dean Grey."
…..
TBC
A/N: With Steele v Grey coming to an end with the next chapter (up soon), I finally have room to let this plot bunny hop! This is AU, obviously nothing like these should be sanctioned in real life, it's fiction people! ?
Inks x
…..