Between the Shadows

By: Ethereal Fury

Chapter Six: Of Witticisms and Showers

After the meeting with Headmaster Rayn, Zephyr limped tiredly back to his dorm. The muscles in his back, legs, and arms felt knotted and tense, and each weary step towards his room was an excruciating test of willpower. Yet, despite the agony of the simple movement of pushing one leg past the other, he steadfastly refused to succumb to his pain and go to the Akademy's Infirmary. The Infirmary was for the weak unable students who could not handle the austere training prerequisites of the Akademy's curriculum. But he was Zephyr Leonstrife; he was the Akademy's Golden Boy, the best it had to offer, the very embodiment of its ideals—strong, swift, intelligent, good-looking, discreet, obedient, deadly with the gunblade, and accurate with the gun. Little did he know, or care for that matter, that he was greatly respected by students and Instructors alike, and even the Headmaster seemed intent on aiding him in any way possible. Zephyr sighed—no, the Infirmary was definitely not for him.

Lost in his thoughts, as was customary, Zephyr reached the sturdy birch door upon which a golden plate with the number fifteen and the Akademy's crest hung. It was his dorm—he had reached his destination. With a weary grunt, he buried his hand into his back pants pocket and extracted from it a small plastic cardkey, which he inserted into a small aperture in the door. The lock buzzed and whirred and finally beeped its confirmation, allowing Zephyr entry to his room. Tiredly, he pushed the door open and came upon the sight of Reed, huddled in a chair with glasses stylishly perched upon the bridge of his nose, poring over his laptop.

"What are you doing, Reed?" Zephyr inquired, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"What? No 'hello' to your dear roommate? You're a bit rusty in the manners department Mr. Leonstrife," Reed called over his shoulder in mock hurt.

Zephyr rolled his eyes and donned a sickeningly sweet voice. "Hello Reed, my buddy, my pal, the bestest roommate in the whole of Terra. Where were you last night? I missed not being with you. (Back to normal voice) Good enough for you?" he replied snidely.

Zephyr had never really understood the source of their rivalry; it had just been there from the earliest of times at the Akademy. Reed had entered the Akademy a year before Zephyr when he had just recently turned ten, both his parents (surprisingly, both members of ZEG, perhaps explaining Reed's desire to join the elite group) having died January that year in an anonymous bomb attack on the headquarters of the Zanark United Party, where they worked as undercover agents in an operation to capture a radical political group intent on assassinating the newly-elected president of Zanark. Having nowhere to go with his only family gone (he did have an elderly uncle somewhere in the remote city-state of Arkadya located in the northern mountains of Zanark's rugged landscape), Reed too made his home on the streets during the bitter Zion winter until one day he stumbled, cold and hungry, into the Akademy's grounds. Headmaster Rayn had promptly accepted the scrawny black-haired youngster as a student and he had begun to show his prowess with his fists and the mythical gunblade, as well as his proud disregard for rules and his talent with the ladies.

He was well liked, respected, popular, the top of his class… until Zephyr had arrived a year later and stolen the spotlight with his unmatched dexterity with the gunblade, perfect academic record, and rivaling good looks. Eleven-year-old Zephyr, with his unruly chestnut hair, piercing sapphire eyes and speed with a blade almost as tall as he was, became the Akademy's child prodigy and the object of affection of many a female student, leaving Reed lurking, forgotten, between the shadows. The two had never gotten along, not even on their first day as classmates. Reed had been strutting to class, his gunblade (Valiant) propped up against his shoulder, when Zephyr had bumped into him in an attempt to make it to class on time. Reed had pushed the smaller youth roughly, and when emerald and sapphire eyes locked for the first time, an unspoken friction had passed between them and a fight had ensued. As blue sparks flew and metallic clangs rang out as blade kissed blade, a thirteen-year-old version of their current Instructor Blade had come running to separate the two quarreling youths. She had begun liking Zephyr then and still did to this day. It was as if something inside both of them meant for them to start off their rocky 'friendship' with a fight… and the rivalry established that day continued to today. Zephyr saw no real point in it, but his blood would involuntarily boil in Reed's presence and he was incessantly drawn in by his taunts… and nothing gave Zephyr more satisfaction than a victory, of any sort, over Reed.

Reed arched a perfectly-shaped black eyebrow but did not look away from the screen. "Really Zephyr, I never knew you leaned that way. But of course, you couldn't resist my masculine good looks and endearing charm," he commented dryly.

"You wish Reed. Now, what are you doing? It sure as heck isn't Akademy work cause you never do any of that. You just get in the sack with the Instructors and get good grades in exchange," Zephyr drawled, locking Punishment in its case.

Reed's emerald eyes narrowed dangerously, but he refrained from giving Zephyr the satisfaction of letting him know that comment had struck a nerve. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he replied calmly to the previous question regarding his unusual attention to his laptop.

"You and what army? Get real Reed, you and I both know I could kick you ass with my eyes closed anytime, any day," Zephyr laughed, shaking his head and running his hand over the intricate logo carved on the cover of his gunblade case.

He had a point, and both he and Zephyr knew it. "Very well, if you must know, Mr. Busybody Leonstrife, I'm trying to hack through President Jecht's files," Reed replied, tapping a few keys on his keyboard in frustration.

"And failing miserably," Zephyr observed dryly.

Reed shot him a menacing sideways look and focused on his screen again. That damn firewall was getting on his nerves… why couldn't he break through? "Perhaps Mr. Know-it-All Zephyr would like to try?" he suggested.

Zephyr shrugged and trudged up beside him. "Really Reed, there's no need for you to call me all those things; just address me properly—it's Master for you," he said with a smirk as he scanned Reed's screen.

"Forgive me Almighty Master Zephyr. I will bow down to your greatness," Reed voiced sarcastically, bowing twice.

Zephyr shot him an amused look then focused back on the screen in front of him. "You're doing it all wrong. The President's firewall is too technologically advanced for you to try to override it by bombarding it with commands. You have to take a subtler approach—the true hacker's approach. Filter in through the rather backward IP sniffing defense system. Just type this… and this… now press this… enter this number here… and voila! The President's torrid email romance with one of our older Instructors is at your disposal. Ooh… I'm bettin' Instructor Kline would pay good money to have that letter burned," he chuckled.

Reed grinned as he copied onto his hard-drive his one-way ticket to an A in his Zanark Presidents—A Detailed Look class. No wonder hacking was never taught at the Akademy… He couldn't help but wonder how Zephyr had known just what to do to override the firewall that even the Akademy's resident computer geek, Seymour, had been befuddled by. It was almost as if Zephyr had done it before. "How did you know how to do that?" he questioned suspiciously.

"What do you need the files for?" Zephyr countered, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. If he had to answer how he had gotten through, Reed would have to reveal what he was up to—and neither man was willing to disclose their secret.

Reed swiveled around in his chair and wrinkled his nose. "You look like crap," he stated matter-of-factly, pointing at Zephyr's bloodied, torn, and tattered attire.

"Thank you, I'm flattered you like my new look. I was looking for confirmation from a pansy such as yourself," Zephyr shot back sarcastically.

"If you at least looked half alive, it might be alright. Aww… poor Zephy, the little gym robot kicked his ass," Reed retorted in mock compassion. The only possible culprit was the robot in the gym—Zephyr clearly displayed gunblade injuries and he, Reed, was the only other gunbladesman and had gone nowhere near Zephyr nor his gunblade since their encounter earlier that day.

Zephyr flashed him a cocky smirk. "Actually, Reedy, I fought it blindfolded. If you would care to look for Simon (the gym robot), you will currently find him in a dismantled metal heap on the gym floor."

Reed shook his head and gave a low whistle. "Blade ain't gonna be pleased," he remarked with an evil grin, raking a hand through is jet-black hair. He had to admit, robot or not, Simon posed quite a challenge, and Zephyr's blindfolded antics had taken a lot of skill and courage. But of course, there was no way he was going to let his rival know he was impressed. And besides, it was more fun to think of what Instructor Blade was going to do.

"You don't say. She's gonna skin me alive and pour some of that lubricant for Simon's joints over me or something. Remember last time we blasted it by accident when Instructor Volt insisted we try out the Akademy's new rocket launcher? We had to scrub the toilets with a toothbrush for two weeks," Zephyr recalled, wincing at the painful memory of two consecutive weeks of scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush, and what was worse, with Reed complaining every five minutes that the floor cleaner was ruining his hair.

"Man, do I remember. But haha… this time it's only you that's gonna be in trouble. Based on the brutality of Blade's punishments, I don't think you're going to see the light of day again until you pass the ZIFE exam. Poor Zephy… I'll be sure to bring you cookies when you get lonely," Reed chuckled, dripping sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't bother, I'll be sure to take you with me to keep me company," Zephyr replied, pausing for a moment of thought. "Actually, scratch that, alone is better than with you. You and Blade hate each other dearly," he added. The last thing he needed was Reed's whining and arguing with the Instructor while he endured whatever vile punishment she could concoct.

Reed smirked, almost proud at Zephyr's comment. "Yep, me and Blade don't get along too well. She can be the biggest, coldest, most ruthless bitc…"

A soft knock upon the dormitory's wooden door interrupted Reed's delightful description of his beloved Instructor. With an apologetic shrug, he went to open the door and found his two best friends Chrys and Damon leaning against the doorframe. He signaled for them to come in, but they shook their heads lightly

"Hey Reed, you coming to 'Fate' tonight?" Chrys inquired, pushing himself off the doorframe.

'Fate' was Zion's hottest and trendiest nightclub, a routine stop for most Akademy students, seventeen and older (Zion's legal drinking age), who managed to successfully sneak out of the Akademy at night. Buried in the heart of the downtown alleyways, it stood like a gleaming beacon lighting the dark streets, lights vibrantly pulsing and loud music floating through the night. Six bouncers guarded the club's two doors, each tall enough and broad enough to occlude and secure the door alone; iron biceps the size of softballs bulging underneath the tight material of their black T-shirts. To date, no one, not even any of the Akademy's younger but skilled pupils had managed to fool the bouncers. They knew fake identification at first glance and would not hesitate to polish their black leather boots with the back of any intruder's pants. The queue to enter the club often rounded the block, especially on Friday and Saturday nights, and people would wait hours on end to be immersed in the smoke-laden atmosphere packed with bodies throbbing and gyrating in unison to the frenetic beat of the loud music.

Reed and his friends were regulars in the club (in fact, Chrys' cousin's stepbrother was the owner), and on many a day Reed would party till the break of dawn and show up in class tired, hung-over, and in some cases still drunk. It was always entertaining when he strutted, still drunk and overwhelmingly late, into Instructor Blade's Zanark History class, spewing cheesy pick-up lines to all the girls and especially the Instructor when she chastised him on his lateness and irresponsible behavior. In his stupor he would forget his dislike for her and flash her his dazzling smile, toss his long hair over his shoulder, wink flirtatiously at her whenever she glanced in his direction, and make crude comments about her to Chrys and Damon. It irritated the young Instructor greatly, and Reed would be seen the next day sitting in Detention for three hours. Come next weekend, he would more often than not go out again and the cycle would repeat itself. Yes, life at the Akademy with Reed in your class was quite an amusement, but Zephyr paid no heed to his rival's drunken antics. He always had better things to do and better places to be.

Reed shook his head, a wide grin on his features. "Nah, sorry guys. I promised Fayth I'd train with her tonight, if you know what I mean."

Zephyr rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting. That was so Reed, getting with some girl only hours after being through with another. Well, he was the Akademy's resident ladies' man; he wouldn't be himself if he didn't sleep with someone different almost every night. Zephyr never did see the point of getting involved with girls; to him, they were as interesting as the back cover of his Military Policies of Zanark's Presidents in the Last Century—Eighth Edition textbook for his Zanark History class. Even his gunblade case could hold a more interesting conversation than the giggly females that trailed Reed down the hall and swooned over his looks.

Chrys wolf-whistled and slapped Reed on the shoulder in congratulations. "Way to go man," he exclaimed.


Damon looked dumbfounded. "Eh… who's Fayth?"

Chrys rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Darn it Damon, that really hot blond bombshell in Blade's class… she sits next to you, for crying out loud!"

Damon scratched the back of his head sheepishly in thought. "Eh… I sleep through Blade's class man, you should know that! Next to me… you mean that transfer student from Komark Akademy?"

Reed nodded emphatically. "Yep, that's the one. Instructor Volt told me to train with her, since I used to do hand-to-hand combat before. So sorry guys, my hands will be full tonight, no pun intended."

"No prob Reed. You coming Leonstrife?" Chrys asked Zephyr, who immediately perked up. He was never invited to the student nightly outings—not like he wanted to be anyway, and certainly not by Reed's friends. They really had to be desperate for someone to ask him of all people.

He shook his head lightly. "Can't. Have stuff to do downtown," he replied tightly.

Chrys shrugged. "Your loss Leonstrife. Well Reed, we'll be going… gotta get ready. The new security guard starts his shift in half an hour and he doesn't really have the hang of all the cameras and stuff. You can actually walk out the door without being busted. Come on Damon, let's go. Goodbye Leonstrife," he said, waving at Reed, nodding at Zephyr, and snapping his fingers at Damon to follow.

Damon waved a hasty 'bye' to Reed, glanced at Zephyr, and trotted down the carpeted hallway in pursuit of Chrys. Reed watched the pair leave with an amused grin, and with a shake of his head shut the door once they had turned the corner and could no longer be seen. He then turned to Zephyr and quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Not like I really care, but how are you gonna get out tonight? You don't look up to the task of climbing the wall; that Simon packs a mean punch. Guess I'll be seeing ya in Detention tomorrow then, eh?" Reed snickered.

Zephyr grinned cockily. "Think again Lockheart; I don't get Detentions. As a matter of fact, I have an official Akademy late-night permit signed by Instructor Brendyn Blade herself…" he began smugly, pulling the permit out of his back pants pocket and showing it to Reed.

Reed's eyes widened in surprise. Late-night permits were hard to come by, especially from Instructor Blade. Zephyr definitely had to have forged it! There was no way Blade would refuse to give him one and sign one for Zephyr of all people. He snatched the permit and scrutinized it. It was definitely real; Blade's signature was un-forgeable. Just ask the myriad students that sat in Detention virtually every day for attempted forgery of a late-night permit, all with almost perfect imitations of the aforementioned Instructor's signature. "How did you get Blade to sign this? She never gives them out; not even to me! Man, you wreck her precious robot and she gives you a permit? This is unreal!" Reed stated incredulously.

Zephyr smirked in response. Reed was right—Instructor Blade was as notorious for refusing to sign permits as she was for turning down dates from students and faculty members alike and devising brutal punishments for those who messed with her or her technological creations. The Ice Queen; the Virgin Queen, she was commonly known as—seemingly unfeeling, single and apparently not looking, businesslike even in an emergency, and distant from all other Instructors and students. She was always either locked up in her lab researching new advancements for the Akademy's facilities or teaching her classes. Many a male student had approached the young Instructor with prospects of love and dates, and each had been humiliatingly turned down. Rejected male students had corrupted her nickname to the Ice Bitch, now the most widely used byname used to refer to the blonde Instructor behind her back.

"Yep, the 'Ice Bitch' herself signed me a permit to legally stroll out of here while you guys have to sneak out. No questions asked either; I just asked and she signed away," Zephyr continued arrogantly, opening his gunblade case.

Reed scowled and shoved the permit back into Zephyr's hands. Dammit, Zephyr had outdone him yet again; was he always supposed to be second best? "I assume you'll be doing her a 'favor' in return. Maybe getting laid will do wonders to her temper," he grumbled.

"Nope, nothing in return. Guess being on her 'I-have-the-hots-for-you' list helps, doesn't it? Oh, you wouldn't know, she hates your guts," Zephyr finished smugly, placing the permit into Punishment's case and locking it. One could never be too careful with a permit, and knowing Reed, he wasn't above sabotaging it just so Zephyr couldn't use it. With another cocky half smirk, he looked over his shoulder at a fuming Reed. "I'm going to the shower," he said simply, resting Punishment's case on his bed and crossing the small distance between his bed and the bathroom door.

"You bloody need it," Reed snapped back, turning once more to the lit screen of his laptop, typing in a few commands, and settling anew in his chair.

Zephyr shut the wooden bathroom door with a muted thud and padded across the cool linoleum of the floor to the bathtub. He opened the hot water tap fully and allowed the liquid to run until the steaming water covered the bottom of the tub before adjusting it to a more suitable temperature. He shed his torn and tattered clothes and threw them in the trash. A boisterous clang rang throughout the small bathroom as the metal of his belt buckle collided with the metal of the bin.

Dammit, that's two sets of clothes in less than two days. I'm gonna go broke if this keeps up. Maybe I should ask the Boss for clothes compensation, he mused with a mental chortle as he walked over to the small table by the corner to remove his heavy platinum chain and his watch, only articles left on his body. Now fully undressed, he shut the water off and with a weary sigh lowered his sore and tired body into the welcoming water, feeling its distinct warmth soothe and relax his muscles. Zephyr began gingerly dabbing at a few of his wounds on his arms, legs, and chest, washing the blood off and giving the previously transparent water a slight crimson tinge. Satisfied with the appearance of his lesions, he dunked his mahogany locks underwater and upon emergence reached a dripping hand towards the shampoo.

***

R&R!