Disclaimer: I don't own TF2 nor ANY of the character portrayed. Team Fortress 2 characters are protected under right of Valve Software and all other gaming characters belong to their respected franchises and companies, whether it be movies, video games or T.V shows. And, don't forget to enjoy!
P.S, We will most likely be skipping through certain points in the time line to certain important moments.
As the clock ticked to a seemly endless beat, the sun started to rise over the ridges of the mountains. A chilled breeze swept across the suburban town as the sun's light seemed to touch more of the earth and reflect off the glass from the apartments, houses and shops. In one of said apartments, a young girl was still in peaceful slumber. Her brown hair was spread apart, resting on both mattress and pillow, as she slept on her side. Within her dreams, she heard an outside voice calling for her to awaken.
"Rebecca...Rebecca...Rebecca!" Her mom chanted, progressively getting higher in volume, until it became a yell. The young girl in bed, Rebecca, shot up, her clear blue eyes opening in an instant as her head twisted to the doorway, only see her mother chuckling.
"Rebecca, sweetheart, why yous gotta be so hard to wake up? I have been tryin' for the past three minutes." Her mother said, chuckling. Rebecca rolled her eyes as her mother continued, sternly, "Get your ass outta bed, young missy, and get ta breakfast."
Rebecca nodded as her mother smiled and shut the door. She flipped her position so that she was sitting on the edge of her bed and then hopped off, heading towards the door for breakfast. Her bedroom was very small in size, however the apartment itself wasn't too roomy either, if she was to be entirely honest. She currently had on her comfortable, yet torn, pajama pants and a crimson, baggy T-shirt on. She opened the door and walked forward, then around a left corner into her living room. She instinctively sat on the couch, pulled already set blankets for her, picked up and ate the cereal on the table and watched the T.V that was already on. When she was done with her cereal, she took off the blankets and walked back to her room, as if a mechanical machine with an objective. She returned to her room, went to the dresser, which was on the right hand side, next to the T.V that was on a stand parallel to the bed. She took off her clothes, put on a plain, red t-shirt with a V at the neck, a Red Socks baseball cap and finally came to deciding between a skirt or pants. She finally settled on pants, considering she didn't want to be harassed by the boys the first day of High School. Although delayed and somewhat out of place, she stretched her arms upwards and yawned, her mouth forming an 'O' before she finally started putting on her selected attire. She ran to the kitchen, crimson, knee high socks in hand (the kitchen entrance is to the left of the living room) where she saw her mom doing a variety of chores.
"Ready for your first day of high school, dear?" Her mom questioned.
"Yea, yea, yea." Rebecca said in an uninterested tone, her eyes already set on the door.
Her mother gave her a questioning look for another moment before smiling and saying, "All your stuff is near the door, sweety. Yous have a good day!"
Rebecca rushed to a chair near the kitchen door, quickly sitting down and putting her socks on. She then put on her trusty, old tennis shoes. She grabbed her black, plain backpack and zipped out the door without another word to her mom (which annoyed the hell out of her) and went down a flight of stairs to the entrance to their apartment. She quickly flung that door open, closing it behind her as she walked down a few more wooden steps and onto the quiet streets. As soon as she stepped onto the concrete sidewalk, a cool breeze cascaded right in front of her, sending small chills up her spine.
'Maybe today was a good day to wear a sweater' She thought, shivering slightly. She started walking to her stop, which was just a block over when she took a left that was shortly ahead.
Rebecca and her mom had moved from Boston after the end of her middle school. Rebecca felt somewhat saddened, for all the friends she left behind, but the emotion was replaced with the joy of escaping her enemies. Now, by no means was Rebecca necessarily a "bad person" however, her outspoken personality and somewhat arrogance when it came to sports made her a prime target of competition and rivalry. Not to mention all the disputes she had been thrust into due to her many of her boyfriend's exs coming back to complain about, "How you stole him from me." Many even set out to ruin her, which was annoying.
'Can't I just like a guy and not have ta fight with somebody?' She remembered pondering once over that question. She pushed it out of her mind as she continued on her walk. She reached her bus stop and sat at a bench. She decided to think some more, just for the hell of it.
'So, new school obviously means new people. But...' She pondered, remembering that someone had told her something. 'Oh, right. Somebody said there was somethin' fucked up at dis school. Interestin'.' All sorts of vision danced in her head about the possibilities. Rebecca had a certain appeal to the fact that this school was abnormal. She had a strange curiosity for the unexplained. She thought of herself as strange. Not to say she didn't like being strange. If she was one of those normal, up-tight, blind as bat pricks back at her old school, she would rather have been blown up by a rocket launcher or some other sort of lethal weapon.
She sat there, random questions popping into her head, as she then witnessed the bus pull around a corner and pull up right near the curve. She jumped up from her seat on the bench, and instinctively ran to the bus just a few short meters away. As soon as she became level with the bus, her eyes quickly scanned the seats available. She took a double seat close to the entrance, with a strange looking girl, about her age. The other woman wore an open, brown vest with a purple, short sleeved shirt underneath and a normal pair of blue jeans. She had icy blue eyes, covered by aviator glasses and long brown hair, much like Rebecca. As Rebecca sat, the other occupant's gaze was brought to look directly at Rebecca and behind the aviator glasses, she saw the girl's cold, hard gaze. Rebecca wasn't one for being a pushover and certainly had a lack of fear, however, something about this young woman sent shivers up her spine and had her hairs stand on their ends. Rebecca, while hesitant, sat and the bus was jerked into forward motion immediately. Rebecca tried to avoid eye contact with the other girl as much as possible, 'Why da fuck did I sit 'ere?' She wondered, as the other girl's gaze never left. After a good minute of silence and tension, the other girl spoke, "So, you must be new to town." She had an accent, but Rebecca couldn't quite pin-point what accent it was.
"Ya." Rebecca replied, sounding weary of the girl she sat next to.
The other girl raised a dismissive hand saying casually, "You don't have to be intimidated, mate. I am just a lil' dandy lion. A delicate little flower." For a reason she could not explain, Rebecca's muscles relaxed and the tension appeared to be gone and so Rebecca decided to continue the conversation.
"So, who are you?" Rebecca asked, eyeing the strange looking girl with some sort of foreign accent.
"My name is Shannon." She said quite curtly, as if not wanting to include a last name, "I am from Australia." When Rebecca thought she had completed her end of the conversation, and was about to speak again, Shannon cut her off, saying quite bluntly, "You must be from Boston."
"How did yous know that?" Rebecca asked, her eyebrows arching, confused and curious at the same time.
"There is another guy from Boston at our school. A real pain in the arse." She commented dryly, her eyes gazing out the window at the peaceful woodland surroundings with some scattered houses.
"Somebody else from Boston, ay? Well, dat is certainly interestin'." She said, her eyebrows reverting to normal as her curiosity overtook her, "Hey, no offense or anythin', but I have heard somethings were off at dis school. Dat true?"
Shannon's gaze had switched back to the young Boston girl, the light peering through the windows on the left to reflect off her icy blue eyes. Once again, Rebecca tensed, slightly disturbed once again from the girl's gaze.
Strangely enough, Shannon spoke in a serious tone, "Indeed, however, wotever you have heard about this school is nothing compared to actually witnessing it. However, if you are capable of avoiding some certain people, you should be fine." Her gaze was again wondering, peering out the window at the massive building the bus was approaching. entered to the right of the school and entered a narrow road way of sorts that took a 'U' shaped stretch (around a parking lot) to the front of the school. When pulling up to the curve, all students would exit and buses would move forward and exit through a left entrance. Following a line of students, Shannon and Rebecca exited the bus, and entered through the front doors of the school. Rebecca had no time to observe her surroundings, as Shannon wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her down a left corridor as soon as they entered. All varieties of students roamed the halls, all with their different cloths and ethnicities. Shannon had picked up where their conversation left off, her voice a bit softer, "Welcome to Ulysses High School, where all sorts of people roam the hallways. But the main attractions are the out cast. They are, by far, the strangest of the bunch. I should know…" Her words wandered off, a soft smile gracing her features, "I am one of them." Suddenly, her grip around Rebecca's shoulder tightened as she pushed her forward, "Come on! We might miss the show!" Shannon had pushed Rebecca to the door, near the stairs, after entering a much larger hallway from the corridor they went down.
"Bloody wankers always be marchin' their asses down this way, mate." Shannon explained, her eyes firmly fixated down the hall, waiting for the parade of abnormality. First, a a very large man slowly walked down the hallways, he himself bearing a black vest, and underneath, a darkly hued brown shirt and a pair of normal black pants. The most odd part about him, is that certain parts of his body did not match the rest of him, such as how his legs and head were smaller compared to his massive arms and his meaty hands. He seemed muscular, if not overweight. 'Beefy.' Rebecca concluded, as the T-Rex of a student lumbered down the hallway, sparing a glance as Shannon, with somewhat of a grimace, before continue on.
"Mikhail Hellovitch." Shannon said casually, still eyeing the behemoth. "He hails from Russia. His father used to be in the Soviet Union, he had once said. I don't know much else about the guy, except he likes to hang out in the gym. I swear, that wanker could lift up any of those lifting bars in that place, and he would be able to do it with one hand tied behind his back."
'Well, that is strange guy numba one off my checklist.' Rebecca said, she too watching the titanic man, as he pushed aside the door to walk up the stairs. Shannon tapped Rebecca too look at the next figure approaching. He wore a vest as well, although it had buttons, was the color of jet black and had a half circle curving near the neck, to show a bright red tie neatly tucked beneath the vest. He had a jet black dress shirt underneath and even sported a nice pair of black shoes complemented by a pair of jet black khaki pants with a slick, black, leather belt. He wore glasses and had dark, raven hair. 'Wow, fan of black much?' Rebecca wondered in surprise, scratching the back of her neck. The older looking gentlemen stroyed by, confidently down the hallway, and much like Victor, appeared to be older with a sculpted face and more well built.
"Michael von Engelkin." Shannon said, her muscles tensing as the well dressed man in glasses strode past, a distinctively eerie smile on his face. "One of the most quiet, yet disturbed lunatics at this school. Not much is known about him, except he hails all the way from Stuttgart, Germany, like his father before him. A rumor has floated around that he is a supporter of the Nationalist Socialist Party of Germany during...Errrh…" Shannon paused, her head tilting downward, not wanting to put it quite bluntly as not knowing if Rebecca was a sensitive girl or not. Finally, she continued, "-the period of 1923 to 1945. Even though I think the rumor is a lot of bull crap, it honestly doesn't matter. The guy gives you chills just when he walks past, for Christsakes!" Before Shannon had even been done giving the description, the Deutschman had vanished past the stairway doors.
Just as Rebecca had started to dig into her thoughts to imagine all the mental ailments Michael must have been suffering from, a distinctive sound of jack boots being stomped against tile was heard, a furious looking man who seemed to be sporting camo pants with a matching hunter's jacket. He had blond hair (which was in a military buzz cut type fashion) and blue eyes which burned with hatred from seeing the likes of Shannon. The man dressed in hunting garb marched straight up to Shannon, screamed just inches from her face, "WHERE THE HELL IS THAT COMMUNIST SWINE, YOU DEFORMED ENGLISH SETTLER."
Shannon didn't even flinch, but her left eye twitched with irritation, and yet said in a very calm, if not intimidating manner, "Firstly, get the fuck out of my face, Jane. Secondly, I saw old Ivan wonderin' up the stairs." The student, apparently named Jane, backed up and ran in the direction of the stairs, yelling, "HE OWES ME MONEY!"
Shannon's gaze was held firmly on the doors to the stairs, but then switched back to Rebecca. "Travis McKinley." She said, almost as if she had debated in spitting out his name, "The finest definition of psycho. As you could guess, Jane isn't his real name. We just use it to poke fun at 'im. That die hard American patriot pretty much sums up everything wrong with this country. He is gruff, and very well built, as you saw underneath his clothes, but despite his own flaws in both the country he praises and his own personality, he still finds he has the right to mock anyone and everyone. He could pretty much hate you for existing."
'Well, I know which freak certainly to AVOID.' Rebecca said, a sneer crossing her face.
Then, from down the hallway, another student appeared. He had on blue over-alls with a tan hued shirt underneath and sported a pair of brown leather boots himself. However, what strangely stuck out from the rest of him, is that he also wore these abnormal goggles and a hard hat, as if he were a construction worker. He held a case, which Rebecca could only assume could be a guitar case in his left hand. He slowly walked down the hallway, his eyes carefully combing the crowd surrounding him for any new distinct faces. He found one in Rebecca, giving a warm smile and waving at the two girls. Shannon waved back, gesturing for the man to come over. He happily inclined and made his way over.
"Good day to you two." He said, a Southern accent clearly present in his voice, and a friendly tone gracing his tone as well, "And who is the new little missy here, Shannon?"
"This is Rebecca, mate. She the newest addition to the school. Said she just moved here." Shannon explained. Rebecca leaned her head more towards the ground, her embarrassment being fueled by the warm hospitality in his voice. The smile on the guys face widened, as he witnessed the act of sudden shyness, extending his hand to her and saying in a welcoming tone, "Dell. Dell Conagher."
She slowly extended her hand, realizing how ridiculous she was acting. She shook his hand, and not surprisingly, his grips was firm, and yet his skin was soft. Which Rebecca considered surprising since he appeared to be a construction worker. Both parties retreated their hand as Dell and Shannon continued their piece of conversation.
"So, by the sound of yellin' this mornin', ol' solly boy is stuck in his own piss, isn't he?" Dell asked, a grin still plastered on his face.
"Yep. Yelled right in my face too, the bloody wanker. He said somethin' about ol' Ivan owing him some money.
Dell let out a hearty laugh and when he finished, he said in a cheerful tone, "Well, you know what they say: You can tell Jane, but you cannot tell him much."
Suddenly, Dell's attention was brought to his watch and explained he had to leave and talk to a teacher. He said his goodbyes to Rebecca and Shannon and took his leave, tipping his hat. "Dell Conagher. Good old boy from Bee Cave, Texas. He is the exact opposite of a wanker. In fact, he is the nicest guy I have ever met." Shannon explained, her eyes still scanning for the next outcast to walk down the hallway, "He will always be your friend and you cannot hate him with that warm attitude and infectious grin. In addition, he is insanely smart, and would have skipped ahead several grades, if he didn't suffer what all outcast suffered…." Her voice trailed off, and Rebecca's curiosity had peeked, however she knew it would be best not to ask Shannon.
Shannon poked Rebecca to get her attention, as both their eyes rested on the next oddity to walk down the halls. A man, wearing a black, sleeveless vest of sorts, with an upturned collar, stumbled down the hallways. He had on a normal pair of black pants and underneath the sleeveless jacket was green shirt, which arms extended to his wrists. He even had a black ski cap on top of his head. The person's black, cotton boots scraped against the ground as he continued continued to shuffle and stumble forward, each attempt prompting the very real possibility that he would fall over. He raised up from his slightly slumped position. He was of African descent, sporting oak wood type of skin color, and his black eyes were drooped. Shannon's hawk like eyes spotted the shining reflection of a strange brown substance on his lips. However, it didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that this pre-mature student, was in fact: wasted off alcohol.
"You think your better then me- Frenata-" The boy slurred in his drunkenness, getting into small arguments with people he bumped into.
"Tavish DeGroot. Despite being below the drinking age, his father supplies him with all the ale and beer you could possibly imagine." Shannon said, holding back her laughter at some of Travish's drunken slurs and attempts to start fights, "He is the local drunk. He is an African-Scottsman, if such a thing even EXISTS, and even claims his family were composed by a long line of kings in Scotland. Well, if they were, I couldn't imagine how many times those respectable warriors and high class noblemen have rolled in their graves, looking at this mess."
The drunk boy eventually fell over, knocked out cold. Any and all students walked right by, ignoring the drunkard. Rebecca's feet automatically tried to step forward to assist, however, Shannon grabbed her wrist. "He isn't worth the effort, mate."
Shannon let go and Rebecca stepped back, her eyes still examining Tavish as he twitched and mumbled on the floor in the middle of the hallway, and resisted the urge to laugh. Suddenly, a man in a black suit appeared and dug a heavily polished, excellently designed dress shoe, into Tavish's back. Much like the others before him, his well sculpted face exceeded the age of any normal student and much like Michael, his slick, black, short hair was controlled and perfectly trimmed, as if he had the best barber do his hair. His black suit was buttoned up to his chest, where a narrow, yet long 'V' type opening showed his tie, which matched his suit. He had dressed to impress, much like Michael, however he appeared much more dashing and more James Bond like, even having a corsage placed in his right breast pocket.
"Tavish, he drank till he dropped, and died a virgin." The black suited student spoke, a clear foreign accent emanating from him with a devilish smile spread across his lips. A sneer crossed Shannon's face, as she said in a low threatening tone, "Jacques Frollo. One of the biggest snobs, if not downright merciless persons to inhabit this building. That Spook is the epitome of heartless. Don't trust 'im once, or he will stab you in the back. And I don't honestly know if wot I mean was literal or metaphorical, he seems like he could do either!" Jacques spotted the two girls, the smile growing even more wide to an unnatural point, as he stepped down from the drunkard and slowly made his way through the crowd. When he approached the two woman, Shannon already had her fist curled into a ball, and looked ready to kill. Jacques lightly gripped Rebecca's hand, pulling it to his lips as he kissed it lightly and said softly, as if almost seductive, "Bonjour, Mademoiselle Weatherfield." She blushed, but then cringed, and ripped her hand away from him.
"How da hell you know my last name?" She asked sternly.
Jacquece's smile never fades as he straightened his tie, saying very slickly, "I have my sources, chère petite Rebecca." He circled the two girls, for no particular reason. Shannon's eyes stared daggers at the well-dressed, suave, skinny man who continue to slowly circle around them. Jacquece's eyes bounced up and down, taking in every detail of Rebecca he could gather and muttered out, "Elle est assez mignon, mais sera appâts pour les requins."
His titanic smile had never decreased and seemed to twitch, as if trying to extend beyond a human's limit. Rebecca already had skeeves from this guy and was seconds away from telling the rat-like scoundrel to beat it before she beat him. However, Jacquece already beat her to it.
"Well, dames, I must bid 'ou all adieu. Until we meet encore, dames." He said pleasantly and, just as he arrived, he virtually disappeared behind a small, spread out group of students.
"Creep." Rebecca simply spat, her muscles still tense.
"Tell me about it." Shannon said, her hawk-like eyes still scanning, "I almost forgot to mention, that suave little rat is French."
"Guess that explains how he hides so well." Rebecca said, grinning. Shannon chuckled slightly, her eyes resting back on the drunk African American who still laid forlorn in the center of the hallway.
Suddenly, a gloved hand reached down and grabbed the forearm of Tavish. Shannon's eyes darted to the source, only to be met with the gaze of a kabuki mask. She piped, startled by the surprise, as Rebecca's attention was, too, finally brought to the assailant. This next figure, while short, was definitely disturbing. It wore violet pants, teal gloves, yellow Nike shoes, white hoodie (with hood up) and a kabuki mask. Of course, the kabuki mask was most disturbing, as red strips went vertically, black strips went horizontally and a wide grin was plastered across the mask. The strange humanoid creature with colorful garb threw Travish's arm around it's shoulders and dragged him to a side corridor, where he wouldn't be blocking the main hallway.
"Ummmm…" Rebecca said, eyeing Shannon expectantly for answers. Shannon's gaze casted away from Rebecca, the sudden monotone in her voice surprising Rebecca, "Nobody knows what the hell it is. Not even the teachers know wot gender it is or what age it is. We just know that he is an outc-"
"Oi, Sheila!" Said a male voice from right behind her. She jumped, stumbling forward and falling face first. The fellow student recoiled as a frown formed, his eyes looking at the girl crashed on the floor. Much like many of the other boys at the school, he had a sculpted face. However, his garb resembled much of Shannon's, being a brown vest with a gray shirt underneath sporting a gowalia picture, and inscribed below: I love the Outback. He also had a wide brim, cowboy style hat (colored brown, the base of the hat's incline being decorated with a line of teeth tethered together by some brown string). The teeth's origins are anybodies' guess, however, Rebecca knew by the size of the teeth, they belonged to a different assortment of animals. His aviator shades made it hard to deduce his eye color.
'Australian.' Rebecca said, rolling her eyes as the man held his hand out to Shannon, who swatted it away. She got to her feet and glared at her nearly identical male version.
"Jesus, Mundy! Havn't you ever heard of a nice tap on the shoulder?" Shannon said, her hands placed firmly on her hips and her cold gaze never lessening in intensity. The man scratched the back of his neck and nervously said, "Well...You'd still would have been freaked out, mate."
Shannon faced palm, ashamed of his Australian counterpart for making her look like a fool in public. However, the man's face instantly went from guilty, to suave, as he approached his fellow Australian, and said cooly, "Listen, Sheila, I know that my good looks can blow you back, but geez, you don't have to be so literal." Rebecca stifled a laugh, while Shannon just chuckled, playfully swatting him in the face.
"Alright, alright, Christopher. You can get back to chasing some other tail, you crazy stalker." She said playfully, gesturing toward the stairwell.
Christopher Mundy tipped his hat, a grin gracing his face as he strode down the hallway, turning back to call out, "Make sure to get your fine asses upstairs soon. Bell should be ringin' in about two min-" Suddenly, a mediumly loud ringing sound echoed throughout the school and many students broke off from their groups to crowd to the stairwell. He called back, being swept away from the man-made wave of students, "Nevermind!"
Shannon and Rebecca calmly made their way to the stairwell.
"Hey," Rebecca said, obtaining Shannon's attention, "how long were wes down 'ere anyway?"
Shannon checked the watch of a near-by student and said with most certainty, "About an hour."
"An hour?" Rebecca asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise and confusion.
"Yeah, the teachers always pull last minute bullshit like this. God knows what they do." Shannon said, eyes wandering aimlessly about the crowd. Finally crossing through a very congested staircase, Shannon and Rebecca arrived on the second floor. Shannon and Rebecca quickly checked schedules and matched their homerooms as being the same.
"So, where is dis?" Rebecca said, eyeing the room number on the sheet of paper.
"I know where it is." Shannon said, looking down a far corridor, gesturing towards it. Rebecca followed Shannon down the corridor that lead to the front of an installation called "The Library." Shannon stopped dead in her tracks in front of the Library, and suggested Rebecca do the same. Further down the hall (which supposedly lead to their homeroom) came three figures. One on the left was an African American student wearing a puffy orange jacket (which had no sleeves and was not zipped up), white T-shirt underneath, blue jeans, dog tags and a clean scalp hair cut with dreadlocks tied on top of his head. The individual to the right of the middle man appeared to be of hispanic heritage, having a crisp skin color. He sported nothing but a crimson, baggy, stained T-shirt and some tan cargo jeans. He sported a mohawk as well, but was well built enough to come to the idea that you shouldn't jest about his style in any way, shape or form. The middle assailant wasn't at all what Rebecca came to expect from his two companions. The middle figure had on some sort of varsity jacket, with the middle being unzipped and revealing a red shirt underneath. He had on this pair of puffy, black pants and tennis shoes. His blue eyes caught Rebecca's, who instantly turned her head to the side. The three companions stopped in their tracks, a strange awkwardness filling the air. The three students started to whisper among each other.
"Well, well, well. Looks like we got some new tail to chase." The figure in orange said, his eyes occasionally glancing to Rebecca.
"Yeah," Said the mohawk guy, stifling a chuckle, "Tail that Johnny here ane't gonna get."
"Shut it, Vaas." John snapped, viciously eyeing his companion. The two student's gazes locked into each other, starting each other down like two dogs eyeing the same bone. Eventually, the gaze broke as they both laughed for a short while. Finally, the three boy's focus was brought back to Rebecca, who slowly started to inch behind Shannon, who was sending back a death glare at them.
"Before we start callin' shots, how do we get past miss guard dog over there?" The student in orange asked.
"Well, you're the tatiction, Iraq. You choose." John said, his eyes narrowing with Shannon. The tall man with the orange jacket, nicknamed Iraq, pondered over ways to approach and detach Shannon from the new girl. Iraq whispered to Vaas, who nodded with a devilish smile, as he approached Shannon and Rebecca. Shannon had her fist curled into a ball, the other one covering Rebecca.
"Listen here, you mook, I know what you and the two other 'Gangstateers' do to new girls. You are not going to bother Rebecca, you understand?" Shannon said in a low, threatening tone.
"Shannon…" Vaas said, leaning closer, "Have I ever-"
"Yes, yes you have. And I don't want to hear it again." Shannon said, swatting aside Vaas' clique speech once more, "And you're not gonna let Rebecca here listen to it either."
Vaas cocked his head to the side and said very bluntly, "You know what your problem is, armono? You too much of an uptight bitch most of the time. You and your sucky little hawk-eye vision."
Something in Shannon snapped as her left eye began to twitch more often than not and said in a very enraged tone, "What did you say?..."
"You are too much of a bitch! You need to loosen up and be more of a slut!" Vaas shouted, throwing his hands up into the air and giving a deranged chackle. Shannon charged Vaas, fist first, to which Vaas skillfully dodged and ran off in a different direction. Shannon gave chase, leaving Rebecca to grimace as John and Iraq eyed her like sharks.
"How about I go talk to her first?" Iraq said, "I do tend to have better experiences with women."
John chuckled, pretending what Iraq said was a joke, and gestured to the water fountain, saying quite politely, "But, sir, wes all came out 'ere in da first place because you wanted to get a drink. Leave dis to me." Iraq grumbled but complied.
John skillfully skidded across the floor using his tennis shoes to reduce friction. He skidded right up to Rebecca who wasn't that far away.
"So, what's your name, sweetheart?" He asked very sensually and charismatically. Despite this, Rebecca didn't seem convinced and replied simply, "Rebecca."
"Huh, a Becky, a-" Suddenly, Rebecca yanked him by the collar of his varsity jacket, and looked him straight in the eyes and spat out in a stern, yet angered tone, "Don't. Call. Me. Becky." John threw his hands up in the air as surrender. Rebecca pushed John back and attempted to walk to her homeroom without anymore incident. Of course, John stepped in front of her, a "wise-guy" grin stretched across his boyish face. Rebecca rolled her eyes, and desperately wished she had her bat to knock this guy back to the Prohibition Era with the rest of the wise guys. She continued to attempt to scoot around him, but he continually blocked her way, waving a single finger in front of her face. Eventually, Rebecca gave a deep sigh, deciding to punch John square in the gut. He fell onto his right side, gripping his gut that still ached from the relatively hard punch. Iraq came up, chanting all types of profanities and proclaiming, "Oh shit! John Farrior just got owned by a girl!" and followed up by laughing profusely. Rebecca ignored the whole scene, and continued to walk to class.
Iraq helped John to his feet saying, "Hey, you alright?"
John brushed him off, murmuring a small 'thank you' before watching Rebecca swagger down the hallway to her home room. 'Dat girl...' John thought, his blue eyes focusing in on her back, 'is gonna be mine.'
OOO
The middle aged woman sat in a chair behind a plain desk with a plastic tiling on top. The desk was surrounded by omnipresent monitors throughout the school. She wore a purple trench coat of sorts, with designer button fastening the front together. Her hair was messy and unkempt, branching upward in a display of black and gray strands of hair. Her skillful eyes danced across the countless monitoring screens, seeking excitement in this drape job.
'Unbelieveable' She thought, her eyes still focusing on the monitors, 'despite winning the Robot Wars and continuing to enmity for each other, the Reliable Excavations and Demolitions and Builders League United still called an armistice, laying off the mercenaries and her for a boring peace, despite both sides still wanting the gravel pits.'
She took a sip of her coffee, scoffing at her next thought, 'But I know they still want those worthless pits of gravel. Luckily, Redmond and Blutarch hired idiots as their executives and successors.' She grinned, continuing to think, 'It's only a matter of time before BLU and RED are back at each others throats...but...' Her grin decayed quite quickly, as a frown took form, 'I need something to bargain my way back in.'
She pondered over this, as her eyes witnessed the outcast's various locations in the school. She gave another sigh, 'Not only that, but I call the children of all the original classes to come to this school, and yet they have caused less of a show then I thought. Such a disappointment from such an interesting group of individuals.' Suddenly, she heard a door squeak open. Her eyebrow crooked as the woman in a purple dress with short, black hair walked into the room.
"Ah, Ms. Pauling. Do you have a report?" The older woman said cooly. Ms. P lightly combed back some of her hair's locks from her face, cleared her throat and said in the most business like term the 23 year old could muster, "Mr. Blaire has confirmed that all faculty are accounted for, lunch room is stocked with additional snacks and that the tech crews will immediately start working on the morning show, Mrs. Administrator."
The woman, the Administrator, smiled, her eyes turning back to the monitors. However, her trained eyes, which I have witnessed the events of the gruesome, yet fun, Gravel Pit War, locked onto a young girl who was being blocked by the Scout's son. The Administrator's brow quivered, perplex by seeing this new face, and basically jumped for joy when she saw the girl punch Scout's son in the gut.
"Ms. Pauling," The Administrator said, using one finger to make a 'Come over here' gesture, to which the younger immediately stepped closer, "Who is that?" The Administrator said, pointing to one of the countless monitors that displayed the girl walking away from the fallen Scout Jr.
"She is Rebecca Grace Weatherfield, a new student who hails all the way from Boston." Ms. Pauling said with confidence, having been forced to nearly memorize almost all of the student files. The Administrator's gaze was glued to the monitor, seeing the opportunity for interesting events to occur. A wide grin grew on the older's face as she said in a quite devilish tone, "Looks like something could happen this year after all...something interesting indeed…"
Holy hell in a handbasket! Pretty long chapter, right? Well, in accordance with Halloween, I feel I need to create a Halloween Chapter before Halloween is over. However, first, I have to get through the first week of school, set up enough character development and bonding, which spells out several more chapters...and Halloween is on Friday. FML. Looks like it's just going to be me, my computer and a lot of energy drinks to tough through it this weekends. LARGE IMAGINATION, DON'T FAIL MEH NOW! Well, I hoped you enjoyed the introduction, and make sure to look for "First Day of School" or as I like to call it "First Day of Hell" (Just kidding, he-he.), but in all seriousness, "First Day of School" will be chapter 1, since this was the intro! So, stick around!