Obviously, the teacher trolls are much older than they are in the comic, between 21 and 40, depending. And this, of course, is an AU.
Also I don't own stuff in this story, as per usual.
"Wow, first day of high school!" John said. "I'm kind of nervous."
"Why? It's just like middle school, except with more losers," Dave said, scratching his head and yawning. "You didn't need to get all dressed up for it."
"My dad said that the first day of school we were supposed to wear our uniforms," John said. He glanced down at his blue pajama-like pants and his matching hoodie with the pale windy-looking symbol. "Although I do feel a bit ridiculous."
"We don't have to wear our uniforms. That would kind of cramp out style, right?" Dave looked to his left for reassurance from Rose or Jade.
"Actually," Jade said, "John's dad is right." She readjusted her black skirt and the dog ears that were sewn onto her hood.
"If anyone looks ridiculous, it'll be you," Rose smirked. "You're probably the only one not wearing strange pajamas."
"Jeegus," Dave grumbled. "Stupid Bro, always trying to trick me. Ironically, of course."
"Of course," Rose said.
"Aren't we a bit conspicuous?" Jade asked. "I feel so weird walking to school in a costume. What kind of school is this, anyway?"
"Prestigious, I believe," Rose answered. "My mother would never allow me to enroll in anything less. She even moved us all the way to Washington so I could attend."
"I miss my old flat," Dave said. "Bro insisted that we should move. I was perfectly fine going to the public school, but John just had to mention this thing, and I just had to be ironic and joke about it to Bro."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault, John. I'm just being—"
Rose sighed. "Yes, yes, ironic, we know."
Jade tugged on Rose's orange sleeve. "Is this it?" she asked, pointing to a large stone building that was coming into view. It was painted a brick red, and the roof was a dark teal-green that looked extremely out of place. There was a small, wide flight of steps leading to a sort of miniature plaza before the entrance, and engraved (and filled with marble) on the ground in front of the steps were the words "SECONDARY BIWEEKLY UNIVERSITY AND REAL-LIFE-READY BOARDING SCHOOL". Thankfully, whoever had named the school had saved their reputation by providing a relatively bearable acronym, SBURB.
"'Tis, fair witch," Rose said with a jokingly affected accent, poking at Jade's uniform. It did look rather like a witch's costume.
SBURB school worked on a rather convoluted basis: although the name of the school would imply that there were many weekly breaks, the policy of an actually biweekly schedule had been dropped long ago. The only thing that might tie in to the old 'biweekly' part was that the breaks were irregular in length and there was the occasional week off for no discernible reason. It was, in fact, a boarding school, and the children had already sent a majority of their things to the school. The courses offered a wide range of difficulty, and the students often moved up or down throughout the year, depending on their level of understanding and performance. They could also choose a course (as long as they followed a minimum requirement) as one would in college. And it was fairly typical for a student to attend for more than four years; a child did not graduate until they had fulfilled every one of the dozens of requirements. Consequently, the students were not so much divided into freshman, sophomores, juniors, and seniors as they were labeled with the number of years they had studied there.
This first building was not very wide, but it was tall and skinny; upon entering, the children were met with a long, dark hallway lined with doors with frosted windows and plaques bearing the names and titles of what they assumed to be professors. There were about twenty other kids milling about, filling the crowded hallway with a cacophony of voices, unsure of what to do next.
Not five minutes later, a tall, tanned boy bounced out of an open doorway and fired twin pistols into the air, damaging the ceiling. Groaning could be heard from the office he had left, made more audible by the sudden silence that followed this impromptu shooting.
"Alrighty, fellas and lassies!" The boy grinned and holstered his pistols. Dave smirked and nudged John; the boy was wearing a green shirt over a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, hardly a uniform. Not to mention the thigh holsters were probably not standard equipment at the school.
"Hey, he kind of looks like you!" Jade whispered to John, leaning across Rose and Dave to do so.
"No chit-chat, now! I'm Jake English, and I'll be showing you the ropes around here! Make sure you have an adventure buddy, because we don't want any of you chaps getting lost on your first day here!"
Dave sighed. "The heck is with this guy? He talks as if he's from the 1800's!"
"Nobody talked like that in the 1800's, Dave," Rose said. "More like early- to mid-1900's."
"Same difference, right?"
The children followed Jake English out the doors and across a short expanse of green grass on the side of the building, arriving at the back. There they found a wide-open, pentagonal lawn surrounded by white stone sidewalks. At each side of the pentagon was a large building, with a huge letter on the side. The building they had just left was Building E; to the left was Building A, then B, and so on and so forth. Above their heads were glass skybridges supported at intervals by large concrete pillars inserted in the grass.
"The floor is one-way glass, so if you're up there" -Jake pointed to a skybridge—" you can see down here, but if you're down here, you can't see up there. It creates quite the effect on a rainy day!"
The skybridges met in the middle of the pentagon in a large, matching hub about seventy feet in diameter, with a felt-lined roof and, they were told, benches to sit on and observe the weather or whatever they wanted to observe.
"If you look far enough westward from the Hub," Jake said, "you can occasionally catch a peep of the briny blue."
"It sounds beautiful," Jade whispered.
"That it is, missy!" Jake called back.
Jake led them around the pentagon until they reached Building A. "This holds the Art, Language, and History Wings, incorporating both world and English history and language. Over in Building B is the Science, Math, and General Technology classes. If you're looking for the hospital wing, it's at the top of Building B. Over in Building C is the cafeteria, coffee shop, a few stores…basically your one-stop shop for all needs. Building D is the Gymnasium, which includes a large pool, courts for badminton or tennis, basketball, indoor soccer, hockey, rugby, cricket, lacrosse, and an indoor track for races. As you can see, it's a whopper of a building!"
"Where do we get to sleep?" Dave called out.
"Hold your horses, young whippersnapper!" Jake answered. "We'll get their soon enough! This is only the inner circle of buildings!"
The walkways extended past the buildings, and Jake took the one that ran between A and B. They crossed under a heavily-treed area and emerged in a previously-hidden second pentagon, this one without adjoining glass skybridges.
"Adjoined to Building A is Building F, which holds a bunch of classes we couldn't sort anywhere else. Behind it is a meadow, but there's a garden, too. Don't go wandering too far on the meadow, though; if you're hoping to reach the road for some reason, it curves in the other direction. Building G, to our left, is the Armory, where you learn to fight and participate in duels. It's smaller than most of our other buildings. Across the way is Building H, and then Building I, which are reserved for dormitories."
"What? But they're so far away from the cafeteria!" someone complained.
"There's a small breakfast bar on the first floor," Jake said. "The point is that if you're hungry, you have to get up and go get food. That way you'll be awake in time for classes. Moving on, our last building, J, is the theatre. We have plays and musicals performed by our students and the occasional guest troupe, and they're quite a jolly good time, if I do say so myself. As for the other paths, they lead to the forest and cliffs on the edge of the property. Occasional fieldtrips will be made. Any questions?"
John raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"When do we get our schedules?"
"Good question, explorer!" Jake reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded stack of papers. He proceeded to hand out schedules to the newcomers. "If you need any help finding classes, during this first week there will be 2nd and 3rd year students in the halls to help. Just look for the black badges and you'll be there in a jiffy!" Jake fingered his own gold-insignia-ed black badge.
John received his schedule first out of his friends, and glanced over it. When Jade joined him, she compared their schedules.
"We have English together!" she said. Rose and Dave approached, and Jade checked theirs. "We all have the same English class. And fitness."
"I see none of you saw fit to take sewing class with me," Rose said.
"Or Robotics with me," Jade said.
"I have Biology with you, Jade," Dave said.
The children continued comparing schedules for a bit. Then Jake fired a pistol again.
"C'mon, chaps! It's near noon, and you'll be wanting to get to the cafeteria first to check out the selection!"
They were marched back to Building C. The sight they met dazzled most of them.
Inside, the cafeteria looked more like a huge log cabin. It reminded John of the time he had gone to Great Wolf Lodge, overlarge fireplaces and all. Along the wall to their left was a buffet with hundreds of foods from all around the world. Opposite was a nice sitting area with easy chairs and a fire, and in the middle, a wide-open expanse made less open by the many tables and chairs. On the far side there was a coffee shop, a bakery, a seafood restaurant, a pizzeria, a snack shop, an ice cream parlor, and a winding wooden staircase that led to a couple of upper levels of more shops and seating.
"The buffet is free, and in the morning you get a free coffee and day-old donut (first come, first served, of course) if you want. There are plenty of job opportunities here at SBURB, whether it be assistant teacher or barista at the coffee shop. And speaking of assistant teachers, here come a few now!"
Jake waved to a couple of gray-skinned girls walking by. It struck John as a bit strange, actually; gray skin, yellow eyes, candy corn horns, it all added up to nothing he had ever seen before.
"These two gals are trolls, from a country far away. Not telling you where, though. They're pretty secretive about it. Different culture and all that." The girls had joined Jake, and he patted one of them on the shoulder. "Aranea, Kanaya, good to see you! I was just telling these whippersnappers—"
"—about jobs, yes," Aranea finished. She smiled at the group. Dave nudged Rose, pointing out the lack of uniform on both girls with a smug smile. "It's very fulfilling work. I work as a volunteer couselor, so if any of you have anything you wish to talk about in private, my office is Room 8A in Building E!"
The shorter girl, Kanaya, nodded to the group. "I am Kanaya Maryam. I'm a second year here, and I help to teach sewing."
Rose smiled, just as her stomach rumbled.
"Look at the time! You kids can get whatever you want, just don't overstuff yourselves! You have years to try everything!" Jake said. He fired a pistol to dismiss them, with the effect of dispersing them.
"I really wish he'd stop doing that," Dave said. "I keep thinking the bullet is going to come back down and go through my skull. It would be such a lame way to die."
"Looks like the staff here isn't so keen on it either," Rose said, indicating an angry Italian who had come out of the pizzeria to yell and gesticulate angrily at Jake. "Where do you guys want to eat?"
"Let's try the bakery!" Jade said.
The door opened with a cheery chime. Behind the glass case holding the food was the distorted face of an employee stocking the shelves. When she heard the bell, her face popped up above the counter, revealing in greater detail a pair of glasses, short black hair, and a tiny moustache.
"One moment please!" she said, and wiped the moustache from her face. It landed on the counter by the cash register. "How can I help you?"
John perused the baked goods. There were quiches, breakfast cakes, fresh loaves of bread, pies, biscuits, donuts, muffins, sandwiches, and bagels. Scones were piled neatly next to tarts in beautiful patterns.
"I'll have a poppyseed muffin, please!" Jade said.
"How about a slice of apple pie?" Dave said as he leaned on the counter nonchalantly.
"Plain bagel, please. With some cream cheese on the side." Rose glanced at John. "What are you getting?"
John straightened up. "Maple bar donut, please, and a chicken and pesto sandwich. Hey, who makes all these things? They're really expert quality."
Dave groaned. "Here he goes, taking after his dad. Lay off the baking talk, John."
But the cashier grinned. "Thank you! I made them. Baking's my passion, so I got permission from the school to open this little shop here. If you're interested, I run a cooking club after school on Thursdays."
"Sounds like fun," John said. The girl got their orders and handed them their goods on plates. As she did so, John caught sight of her nametag: "JANE".
The kids enjoyed their brunch, finishing in time to make it to their first class of the day. According to a note that had come with their schedules, they were starting an in-class tour. John and Rose headed off to Advanced Algebra, Jade went to Robotics, and Dave—well, Dave wouldn't say what class he had.
/
When Jade walked into Robotics Class in Building F, the first thing she saw was the hulking teacher at the front of the room battling an equally hulking robot. She scooted sideways along the wall to join the rest of the students in a huddle by the back wall. But instead of meshing in with the others, she just sort of stood in the front, watching with interest.
In one swift motion, as the robot made to punch the teacher in the face, he ducked and smashed his hand through the robot's torse, yanking out a robotic heart. Blue liquid that might have been the robot's blood poured out onto the floor as the machine crumpled to the ground.
For a moment, the teacher stood with the robot's heart in hand, breathing heavily. Then he tossed it onto a pile of parts and turned to face the class, adjusting his broken shades.
"Please excuse my behavior, I prefer to warm up a bit on the first day of class each month," he said in a polite but gruff voice. "There is no reason to be afraid. In fact, I order you to not be afraid. Take your seats."
Jade moved forward and found a window seat near the front of the room. Only when she was sitting did she realize that the rest of the class had yet to move.
"Good. We have one student in this room who will listen to orders. What is your name, student?"
"Jade Harley."
"I look forward to having you in this class, Jade Harley. The rest of you, sit down and be quiet. I will be introducing your first assignment today, and we'll spend the week learning the skills to complete it. You will be attempting to build a robot in the likeness of yourself."
/
When John and Dave stepped into the armory, they were met by a voice shouting "Think fast!" and a double-edged trident hurtling towards their heads. Luckily, they heeded the warning; Dave dodged the weapon by hopping to the side, and John ducked just fast enough for the spikes to bury themselves in the wall where his head had been, trapping his hood between them so it draped over the points.
"Good work, guppies! You pass the first test!" A long-braided troll woman strolled up and yanked the trident out of the wall. "But where the heck is your uniform, kid?" she asked, turning on Dave. "I know they're a load of fishcrap, but rules are rules—sometimes."
"Didn't feel like conforming." Dave tossed his hair in an attempt to look cool, but it really just looked like he had a nervous tic.
The lady slapped Dave on the shoulder. "You might be alright, kid. What's your name?"
"Dave Strider."
"And your friend?"
"John Egbert."
"Welcome to the armory, guppies. You'll be joining the rest of the crew in the actual armory. It's the door to the right." The woman gestured down the hallway. Looking around, John noticed that it was only a hallway they were in; although farther down there was what looked like a dojo, the only other exit was the door that their instructor was indicating.
The boys entered the room and looked around in awe. The room was incredible tall, and every square inch of space was covered in various weapons: axes, swords, needles, wands, chainsaws, hammers, knives, and maces were only a few of the choices. There were about ten other kids gawking at all the dangerous objects they were surrounded by.
Shortly after, the instructor entered the room and closed the door. "Alright, guppies, let's get started. I'm Meenah, and I'll be your queen while we learn the fine art of culling. Our first order of business is to determine which of these fine toys you are most comfortable handling."
A small Asian girl raised a hand. "But I don't believe in fighting!"
Meenah chuckled. Suddenly, a knife whizzed by the girls ear.
"Still don't believe in it? These things on the wall are all real, girly. Every single one of them could kill you in at least fifty different ways, when handled by an expert. There's no time to be standing in the background and fretting. What's your title, girl?"
The girl trembled. "S-s-seer of Life."
"Damn. Why'd they give me a Seer? Useless when they first start. You're going to cause me trouble, I can tell. Still, you all passed the first test. If you hadn't, well, I wouldn't be glubbing to you now, would I?" Meenah's grin widened into something much more sinister.
"You! Strider!" Meenah sank her nails into Dave's shoulder. "You go first. What do you think we should start with?"
Dave surveyed the options. "Swords are cool."
Meenah nodded and sprang away, choosing a broad blade from the wall and tossing it to the blond boy. "Try it out on this!" She pressed a button on a previously-hidden panel, and a battle dummy dropped from the ceiling.
Dave squared off, taking in the dimensions of his opponent. Without even a battle cry, he rushed at the thing and swung.
The top half of the blade connected and snapped back, iron and steel cracking as the sword shattered into two bits. The dummy was cut in half, but so was the sword.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Meenah shrugged. "Guess you'll have to stick with that now that you've broken it. Good luck, kid."
She strode back over to John. "Your turn, kid. What do you think?"
"I don't really know anything about weapons…"
"A newbie, eh? This ought to be fun." Meenah gripped his shoulders and steered him around the room. "We can try all sorts of things. How about a mace?" She reached up and nudged a medium-sized one from its hooks. John caught it on instinct and held it awkwardly. "No, too badass for a nerd like you. Wanna try a crossbow? No aim? Bummer. Maybe you're more of a rapier guy! Actually, no, what was I thinking? Damn, you're not even built for a sword. What am I supposed to do with you?" Meenah released her grip on John and tapped her chin thoughtfully. Then her eyes lit up and her grin returned. "Maybe…"
She dashed across the room and proceeded to hop from weapon to weapon up the wall, occasionally knocking a sword or shield from the wall and creating a general hazard for anyone foolish enough to stand directly under her path.
Finally, Meenah approached the top of the wall, slammed her trident into the woodwork, perched on it, and, with both hands, reverently lifted a brilliantly coloured war hammer. She lowered herself onto an unoccupied hook, removed the trident, and proceeded to make her way back down the wall in this fashion, alternately perching on her own weapon and moving to another to reposition it.
When she reached the floor, she hopped off the trident and left it behind in her haste. She practically ran into John in her exuberance.
"The Warhammer of Zillyhoo," she said, uttering the words in a softer tone. "It was found in an abandoned church with an inscription stating that the true wielder of this hammer would be incompatible with any other type of weapon, and he alone could truly wield its power. If I were to attempt a fight while using this, it would throw me back. It's a bit of a risk, but you should try it out."
John accepted the war hammer with apprehension and moved into the center of the room. A circle of fellow students formed around him like stationary vultures around a dying carcass. The mood was about as cheery, too.
As John lifted the weapon above his head, he felt energy coursing down his arms and into his shoulders. It felt like the power of a million laughs was augmenting his strength, begging to be let out in one fell swoop—
And in that one fell swoop, John brought the hammer down.
From the center of impact, a heavy, sharp gale expanded like a superfast ripple on the surface of a tensed body of smooth water. The students grabbed at each other to avoid slamming against the wall. There was a tremendous rattle; as the wind rushed up the walls, it upset the balance of the weapons and brought them raining down, forcing the children to dash about like rabbits to avoid being impaled on the falling swords and arrows. As a final insult to the room's safety precautions, every single roof panel swung down and battle dummies fell from the sky.
When John opened his eyes, he saw a mess of blades and bows, children shaking in their boots, battle dummies hanging like executed criminals, and a few piles of stuffing and hay where Dave's blade had sliced through the canvas shells. Said Strider was currently giving him a thumbs-up.
But it wasn't Dave's opinion that John wanted. Bashfully, John turned around, waiting for the verdict from Meenah, convinced that he had failed horribly.
But to his surprise, Meenah began to clap. "It looks like we've found the hammer's owner! What's your title, guppy?"
"Heir of Breath," John said.
"Of course! That hammer is a wind weapon. We should've known a Hero of Breath would inherit it. But—" Meenah looked around "—I really don't want to have to clean this up. New assignment, kids! Clean up time! If you find a weapon you like, try taking out a few dummies with it. I'll get the higher weapons; anything with a number label in the 400's, don't touch!"
Dave turned his weapon over and saw for the first time the golden plaque with the number 45 engraved on it.
The rest of the students groaned. Needless to say, John was not the favourite of his classmates.
/
"Ow!" Rose sucked her injured finger. It was the third time today that her hand had slipped and the sewing needle had plunged into her flesh.
"Are you doing okay?" Kanaya asked. Despite her job title as assistant teacher, Rose had noticed that she was doing more of the work than the female Jabba the Hutt behind the desk.
"Yes, just a flesh wound," Rose joked. Regardless, Kanaya leaned down and examined Rose's pinpricks.
"Here, you're holding the needle wrong. Try this." Kanaya took Rose's hand and repositioned it on the needle.
"Thank you," Rose said.
"No problem. What are you making?" Kanaya asked. The teacher had simply said that the assignment was to sew something, and Kanaya had added that this first project would be a free-form one, with help from her.
"I want to make a laptop cozy," Rose said. "I knitted one once, but I want to try sewing one."
"Interesting! Most people here are trying to make scarfs. I don't think they realize that knitting is a more efficient way to make that."
They laughed.
I'm very much looking forward to next chapter! Reviews are appreciated!