07/03/11: My god, is it July already? How time does fly. See how dedicated I've become to you people? I'm keeping to schedule, just like a good little author should be. Now the trick is trying to write other stuff in between all of these. That I daresay, I'm not doing so well at.

Torn and Erol are Naughty Dog's. Everyone else will always be mine.


As far as all things KG were concerned, the first few weeks of school had been more or less quite tame. The five-thirty wake-up times were harsh and took some getting used to, but no one dared to find out what would happen to them if they lingered in bed, not after they heard the first scream of agony from one of the dormitories down one of the long hallways.

Erol had nearly gotten himself expelled within the first month. Twice. Instead of being bothered by this fact however, he took it in stride, found it simply hilarious. Of course, he had definitely been testing boundaries, mostly to see what earned him demerits and how many it got him. As he'd informed Torn one day, proudly displaying his first set of seven demerits, his experimentation had led him to understand that punishment depended on the teacher. The war history teacher – for example – didn't believe in handing out demerits, but if anyone so much as dropped a pencil in his class they had to do roughly thirty push-ups.

Once he'd had it pointed out, it hadn't taken Torn long to realize that the bias against slummers that Erol had mentioned was definitely there. It was apparent even in something as simple as an offhand comment about how slummers were nothing more than cannon fodder on the battlefield. Torn's reaction to that remark had earned him a hefty four demerits and a detention. It soon became clear to both Torn and Erol that unless they figured out some way to prove everyone wrong, they were always going to be considered the underdogs of the academy.


Home in the slums of Haven, Ripp was enduring the difficulties adjusting to the changes in his life. Without Torn around to mediate and calm Simius' temper, Ripp found that there seemed to be no end to the pain. He had hoped that the fact he was in school would do something to keep the beatings at bay, that Simius would fear the notion of someone finding out about the abuse just as he seemed to fear Torn. He'd hoped that there would be some reprieve, but there wasn't.

Ripp's fist seemed to have permanently affixed itself to the fang necklace and every night the only way he could sleep was to sneak into Torn's room. Even this was beginning to lose its effectiveness however. The scent of Torn that had once been so comforting to the boy was fading from the sheets and he had to focus harder on the thought of his brother to call upon the same feelings of security that had once come so easily to him.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend that nothing was wrong. He'd taken to crossing off the days in his school agenda until Torn's first return. Two months was a long time. Too long for him to continue taking the abuse he was. He couldn't escape. At home or at school, all he was ever met with was a world of pain.

Two months was an awfully long time.


Torn hauled himself out of bed and glanced over at the second cot to find it already vacant. He rubbed his eyes and stood up going to check the date on the calendar in his and Erol's room. His long, thin pointer finger trailed across the red slashes that his roommate had been putting on the passing days.

Erol looked up from getting dressed and walked over, pulling his shirt on. "What's up?"

The blue-eyed boy grinned. "We're going home tomorrow."

Erol smirked. "Well, won't that just be a blast. I mean, I'll get to go home, Dad'll want me to cook because I'm better than him – not that I really mind, we'll argue once – maybe twice, and then we'll be comi-" He broke off, staring at the calendar. "Oh hell no."

Torn looked at his friend with concern. "What?"

The redhead swore, ignoring the other teen. "Should've known. How hard was that to figure out? I'm smarter than that, should've seen it coming. I thought that was a funny date; the middle of the month no less…" Erol muttered angrily.

"Odd time for what?" Torn asked.

Erol appeared surprised. "Was that out loud? Oops. Don't mind me. Everything's fine, just dandy."

Torn arched a still non-existent eyebrow. "Alright, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong? Other than the fact that Dad and Shari actually seem to want me around for the ceremony that will completely whitewash my mother's life - nothing! Nothing's wrong!" Erol snarled. He was bristling and looked on the verge of punching something – Torn hoped that something wasn't about to be him. The redhead's left eye was twitching, a sure sign that he was annoyed.

As a precaution, Torn took a step back. "I still don't think I follow," he said slowly, raising his hands a bit, just enough to give him a better chance of defending himself if Erol decided that he was angry enough to hit something.

Erol blinked. "Oh." He sighed. "Dad and Shari's wedding."

"Oh. Well then…" Torn trailed off awkwardly.

"My thoughts exactly." Erol gave Torn a small shove. "Better get dressed or you'll have some more of these pretty little things," he said, indicating his demerits.

Torn glanced at his own set of shining bands. "You've got a point there."

It didn't take long to get dressed, only a couple minutes. Torn finished pulling on his uniform and returned to Erol, who was still glaring at the calendar like a spoiled child. "It won't be that bad," he said.

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to do it."

Torn was about to reply when he was cut off by the pounding of their instructor on the door, bellowing at them to get down to the mess hall. He put his hand on Erol's shoulder and pulled him away from the calendar. "C'mon, let's just go eat," he said, "You'll feel better once you've got something to distract you."

The redhead allowed Torn to guide him from the room, but he grumbled the whole way.


The slamming of a door woke Ripp and he cowered in Torn's sheets. From the sound of things, Simius had awoken in a bad mood. The boy couldn't quite fight a whimper. At least Torn was coming home soon. The mere threat of his brother was enough to stay Simius' hand somewhat and he hadn't been really hit by the man for nearly a week. It didn't mean that he planned to cross his father in a bad mood though; some ideas were just bad and that was one of them.

Ripp slipped out of bed and made up the sheets to disguise the fact that he'd spent yet another night in his brother's room. He crept over to the door and peered anxiously into the hallway, checking that the coast was clear, after all, he wasn't supposed to be in Torn's room. Spying neither of his parents, Ripp dashed across the hallway to his room and stopped in front of his dresser. He pulled open a drawer and selected a shirt at random. His jeans lay on the floor where he'd thrown them the night before and he pulled them on, fastening the worn belt around his waist as tightly as he could.

He skulked to the kitchen, listening carefully for any indication of just how bad of a mood his father was in. Ripp pressed up against the door frame of the kitchen, peering into the room in wide-eyed fear. All that his careful reconnaissance told him was that Simius appeared to be trying to stare down a cup of coffee. Never a good sign.

The boy swallowed nervously, feeling his stomach growl. If he wanted to eat, he'd have to brave the kitchen. Clutching the fang desperately, as though it could give him the protection that Torn had always promised, he forced himself to actually cross the threshold of the kitchen. With a little luck, Torn's imminent arrival the next day would be enough to save him from his father's wrath. Ripp had never exactly been what one would call lucky.

His bare feet on the linoleum of the floor seemed loud, too loud and Simius glanced up sharply at the sound. "Oh," he said, "It's you. Hello, brat."

Ripp froze and looked up at his father in fear.

"Not even going to reply?" Simius demanded.

The boy squeaked, "H-h-hello, Dad…"

"That's more like it," Simius said, getting to his feet. His movement was slow and menacing. "Wherever did you learn your manners, boy?"

Ripp couldn't fight the tremor that ran through his body and he took a few steps backwards, away from his father. Usually he felt safe if Torn was coming home, normally Simius wouldn't dare to lay a finger on him just in case it left a mark… But at that moment, Ripp was far from sure. He couldn't reply, paralyzed by the fear.

"Well?"

The boy inched backwards, doing what he could to keep his distance.

"Not going to give me an answer, brat?" Simius snarled.

Ripp gave his head a fearful shake. Maybe, just maybe, if he did get hurt, Torn would notice… Maybe he'd finally catch on… He'd backed into the wall and hid his head in his hands, cowering. Ripp braced himself for the inevitable impact of his father's hand.

It didn't come. One icy eye opened cautiously and peered up. Simius was standing over him; he had the look on his face that was usually coupled with him doing something particularly violent. It seemed, however, that he was smart enough not to try anything.

For a moment longer he glared at the boy before letting out a disgusted snort and walked back to the table and his half-finished cup of coffee.

Ripp's nerves failed him and he left the kitchen, slinking back to his room. This was going to be a far from good day. He could already tell. It had the sort of feeling that was common to how all his bad days started; he saw no reason to expect it to turn out differently.

Hastily, Ripp filled his backpack and returned to the kitchen, noting with relief that his father had – for the moment – left it unoccupied, presumably to get changed for work. He grabbed a slice of bread for breakfast. It was quiet in the kitchen, something that Ripp enjoyed and loathed; enjoyed because it meant that he could hear even the slightest sound, but hated because it meant that he was alone. Alone like he had been all summer, like he had been for the past two months. His stomach growled again, and, after glancing furtively around, he grabbed a second piece of bread, no sense in letting a perfectly good chance to actually eat go to waste.

From down the hall, Ripp caught the sound of his father's feet on the carpet of the hallway. For a split second, Ripp froze again, terrified. A few moments later he'd wolfed down his makeshift breakfast and had grabbed his backpack. He'd learned to judge time by his father's morning routine; when Simius was ready for work, it was his cue to head to school. He lugged his bag down the stairs, listening to the satisfying thump it made on each step on the way down to the landing.

Simius had come to the top of the stairs and was watching Ripp with a cold, calculating gaze as the boy hunted around for his shoes. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and he thanked whatever deity felt like listening that Torn would be back the next day. It would give him a reprieve, if only a slight one.


The walk to school was rainy and wet, not too uncommon of an occurrence in Haven. Ripp would have brought a jacket to keep dry, if he'd had one to bring. As it was he was, the best he could do was to pull his backpack over his head to try and shield himself from the rain. It didn't really work too well. The boy's footsteps were slow and grudging. He purposely liked to try and make the trip longer than he needed, at least on the way there; it was the only time that he had where he felt safe, free from both Caito's ragtag gang of friends and his father.

Caito and his cronies – as Ripp had come to think of them – had yet to stop terrorizing him for that day at recess when the fight had taken place. Originally they'd started off with the clichéd idea of trying to take his lunch money. They'd been forced to come up with something more unique once they realized that Ripp truly had no money on him. Ever. Now he was stalked relentlessly by them, he'd find threatening notes stuffed into the toes of his outdoor shoes or the pockets of his backpack which, while initially quite jarring, he was now learning to ignore. A day didn't go by where he wasn't assaulted by at least two of them. They'd tried a couple times to catch him and drag him away to…somewhere… their intended location still remained a mystery to Ripp as on the single time they had actually managed to capture him, he'd broken away and run as far and fast as he could from them.

Ripp's shirt clung to his body and he was shivering violently by the time he'd arrived at school. The only thought that kept him going was that the weekend was coming. And with the weekend came his brother.


In general, it was business as usual at the academy. The students remained calm and collected under the strict supervision of their teachers, despite the impending break. Anyone who dared to disrupt the rule of the academy was quickly set back in line by teachers ready, and more than willing, to hand out demerit bands.

It was likely that Torn would have felt considerably more excited by the notion of getting to see his little brother again had he not been around Erol all day. The redhead's foul mood pulled everyone around him down, greatly dampening even the most chipper spirits. He'd become volatile, a trap set to spring at anyone with a moment's notice. Even a couple of the teachers, it seemed, were reluctant to deal with him too much; most people gave him a wide berth whenever possible.


Following lunch, most of the cadets were at their lockers to grab their textbooks before heading off to next class. Torn pulled out his war history book and hefted the heavy volume under his arm as he waited for Erol; foul mood or not, he wasn't about to abandon the other boy to the mercy of the academy's hallways.

Torn staggered as someone gave him a rough shove from behind. "Move it, slummer scum," the boy, a grade higher than him, snapped.

Torn fixed him with a hard glare, but otherwise did nothing.

In accordance with the informal rules of the faculty, the older boy outranked him. Rebelling against one's superiors tended to earn someone more than a short lecture and a few demerits. Despite how utterly frustrating it was to be pushed around, if Torn didn't want to attract unwanted attention to himself, he simply had to endure it. It would have been more tolerable if it didn't happen so frequently. Because of his – and Erol's – leaner builds, they failed to show the build-up of muscle as easily as other cadets and this made both of them seem like prime targets; that didn't even account for their social standing.

As the boy shoved past Torn, Erol casually – so casually it almost could have been an accident – stuck his foot out behind him, tripping the older boy. The satisfied smirk on his face as he slammed his locker shut, however, confirmed that it had been no accident. Moments later, Erol was caught in a headlock, his golden-brown eyes gazing calmly up at his captor. "I'm sorry," he said, not sounding at all apologetic, "Did you want something?"

"You little gutter rat, I'm going to kill you for that," the older boy snarled, tightening his hold.

Erol merely gave him a sceptical look. "Is that so?"

The following scuffle was rather one sided, but not favouring the side that most of the onlookers would have assumed. It ended with Erol standing over the other boy, foot on his chest, leering down at him. "What was that about killing me? Looks more like I could kill you, care to press your luck?"

The tenth grader stared up at him, mouth hanging slightly slack. "You little rat," he snarled.

Erol smirked and shifted his weight slowly to the foot he had on the boy's chest. Breath hissed, unbidden, from the pinned boy's lungs as Erol's weight forced the air from him.

When the bell for class rang, no one moved. All eyes in the hall were fixed on Erol and the tenth grader. Most students scarcely dared to breathe. The tension hung thick in the air as Erol leaned further forward. He sneered; a cobra preparing for the kill. Just as he seemed about to strike, a group of teachers showed up to find the source of the commotion.

It took one of them to pull Erol off the boy, and another two to keep the tenth grader from lunging at the redhead the moment he was up. The teacher holding Erol grabbed his dog tags and examined them.

"Triple-six," he snarled, "I should've known. Seems you don't know your place." He dropped the tags with disgust, his hand instinctively going to the pouch of demerits he wore strapped to his belt. He turned his sharp gaze upon Torn. "You, cadet! Number."

"Wha-? Oh! Nine-seventy-one."

The teacher rolled his eyes, muttering, "The other one." He jabbed an accusing finger at another boy and demanded his number instead.

"Five-twenty-eight, sir," he said, saluting smartly.

"Good. What happened here?"


Over the past couple months, Ripp had started to get good at dodging Caito and, surprisingly, he had so far that day avoided actually being hurt by any of the sixth graders. Of course, that meant that he'd missed recess and the outside break during lunch time, but as it was still raining, for once he didn't actually mind. It seemed like he'd finally dried off from the walk to school when he had to head back out in the rain to head home.

He skulked out of the classroom, casting wary glances in both directions as though he were about to try and cross a dangerous highway. It looked clear. Looks were often deceiving. He crept from the doorway to his class's coat hooks to retrieve his outdoor runners from by his hook. They were still soaked. Sighing with resignation, he slipped off his school shoes and pulled on the other pair.

He was reaching for his backpack when a hand on the back of his neck made him jump.

"Thought you'd escaped me today, did you?" Caito hissed, fingers slipping one by one beneath the chain of Ripp's necklace.

The second grader froze.

"I've been wondering what happened to your spunk. Seems you've been broke since that little outburst of yours. Ain't got yerself no spine, have ya?" Caito tugged slightly on the chain.

Ripp's hand closed around his fang, clutching it to his chest. His eyes closed. Caito was touching his necklace, his necklace. How dare he? He could feel Caito's fingers moving on the back of his neck doing…something. Ripp couldn't tell what.

A moment later the chain slithered off each side of his throat, the clasp undone. Against his better judgement, Ripp's eyes opened and he looked over his shoulder at the other boy. Caito smirked; his hand snaked around to grab Ripp's hand – his hand that gripped the metalhead fang.

"Let's say you give me that…trinket… and I'll let you off easy."

Ripp's fingers trembled as he tightened his grip. Give up his gift from Torn? The only thing that had offered him comfort for the past two months? No way.

"C'mon, let's do this the easy way. I'll get it from you eventually. You know you'll just lose it anyway."

Caito stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach, winded. Ripp had grabbed his backpack and darted off, not daring to stick around and see the effect that driving his elbow into the sixth grader's gut had produced. To do so would be to not only give up the head start that the action had surely earned him, but would be just asking for trouble.

Rain pounded and beat down on his head the moment that Ripp exited the building. He didn't care. Ankle deep puddles were splashed through without a thought, untied shoelaces were ignored; he didn't stop, didn't so much as pause until he was blocks away from school. He skidded to a stop and nearly fell, catching his balance again at the last moment. Ripp knelt and fumbled with his dripping shoelaces before attempting to puzzle out the clasp on his necklace. It was a couple minutes and multiple tries later that his necklace was fastened safe and secure around his neck once more.

Ripp looked around, though what he was expecting to see he couldn't say. Not finding whatever it was, he started home once more.


Nine chapters down, fifteen to go. Golly. Three more and I'm halfway done. Wow. And if I remember correctly, this should be the last really crappy filler chapter. (I'll be eating those words later, but I can always hope that it's the last crappy filler chapter!)

Any thoughts you'd like to share on the chapter would be much appreciated.