Welcome back to this next episode of What Would Lucy Do? Previously on the show: Rotwell was a butt and so was Kipps, now Lucy gets the chance to kick Kipps' butt. *Blaring theme music* GO!
Lucy noted with disdain the patronizing smile he wore, as he struck a similar fencing stance.
"Ready."
Lucy waited to see what kind of fighter Kipps was. He either would rush in for a surprise attack or would hang back and bide his time.
He waited, and studied her stance, raising an eyebrow as if to silently criticize it.
She feinted forward, but he didn't give any ground.
"Come on Carlyle. I'm not an idiot, I would fall for such a obvious-"
She didn't wait for him to finish, she lunged forward in her first real attack.
He was taken slightly aback and gave way a half a pace. Then he countered, keeping on the defensive. She darted in and out, always on her toes, enough to annoy him but not doing much.
She was baiting him into an offensive stroke.
She saw it coming and parried it, but stepped back. Giving ground, inching closer and closer to the edge of the platform, she was only vaguely aware of people cheering and shouting. Kipps seemed to hear it though, and was goaded by the crowds chanting to go for the final stroke Lucy had been waiting for.
He went for a stabbing strike to her chest, that she would have to dodge. She twisted out of the way, feigning a loss of balance. She fell on her butt, close but not off the mat. She let her rapier slip out of her fingers. Quill Kipps' blade was now inches from her face.
The crowd roared its approval. Kipps grinned around, drinking it in. But Lucy wasn't done. Loopholes were Lucy's forte, and he had left a massive hole where winning and losing was concerned. She pushed the blade out of her face, moving like lightning, coming up to a crouch. She spun, sweeping Quill Kipps right off his feet. She grabbed her rapier, as well as Kipps' dropped one and pointed them at his face. The whole of the room screamed, gasped, and shouted in disbelief. Lucy, within the space of five seconds, had reversed the situation.
Kipps was vexed to say it in the least.
"You can't do that!" He spluttered indignantly.
"Oh, but I can. You specifically said I only lost when my rapier was in your hands, or when I was off the mat."
The crowd acted as one, staring at Lucy, then, starting with one person in the back, they began to clap; slowly at first, but increasing in volume, soon people were whooping and hollering. As she was clapped on the shoulder by the multitude of people who had been betting on her failure, she thought of something she had read a long time ago, that the human memory is short and fickle.
Pushing through the crowd, Lockwood and George finally found her, still next to a fuming Kipps.
The former was grinning so widely that he could have been the Cheshire Cat, but George was the first to speak.
"That was the best thing I've seen in awhile."
"Agreed."
Lucy was about to say something on the lines of a humble "I know right" when she spotted a moving form shoving violently through the noisy students.
Mr. Rotwell had stepped up onto the sparring mat and was trying to calm the crowd. His face was red with anger.
"Quiet!" He roared.
They silenced, mumbling and shuffling guiltily.
He turned to Lucy. She noted a throbbing vein in his neck. He spoke slowly, dangerously.
"Carlyle,that was the most blatant disregard for rules and authority I have seen in all my years."
His anger was a leather fist on a coil, tightening and tightening, until something sprung the switch, delivering the blow. It was the coil you feared, not the fist.
This is what kept the biting reply from spilling out of her mouth. Mr. Rotwell obviously had some anger issues he was working through. It would be a crying shame to be the cause of his lost control.
She was silent.
"That being said, I have no idea how you passed Third Grade fencing. You will either have to take extra courses or face expulsion." Lucy noted the sudden intake of breath from Lockwood, just beside her.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to remain calm.
"Yes sir."
"That's all. Get out of my sight."
The three of them started to walk off, but Rotwell put a firm hand on Lockwood's shoulder.
"Not you."
George and Lucy frowned at Lockwood who shrugged helpless, then was led away by Rotwell.
They returned to the station they had warmed up at.
Lucy let her frustration out on the dummy, slashing fiercely with her rapier.
"Woah what did it ever do to you?"
"I hate him already."
"Who? The training dummy?"
"No! Rotwell."
George leaned against the rack of rapiers, and rubbed his glass's lens rigorously.
"Only those on his good list even pretend to stand him."
Lucy stabed the dummy right in its stomach, and left it there. She turned to George, and gave the bottle up tirade.
"I mean, Kipps gave me the rules, and I followed them to the letter! No one said, "Lucy don't sweep kick your opponents legs. It's rude." He was mocking me to begin with. If he didn't want me to try my damnedest, then he shouldn't have bloody-"
A tap on her shoulder stopped her, mid sentence.
She whipped around, hands on her hips, hair flying.
"What-! Oh, hi Lockwood..."
George muttered something under his breath, probably something cheeky and sarcastic. Lucy didn't catch it all.
"What did Rotwell want?"
"He said he wants to enter me in a tournament with a couple other people, then he declared that he hated me."
All three of them chuckled together.
Just as she was feeling better, something always had to spoil it. Angela strutted forward, as if the gym clothes she was wearing, same as everyone else, was a ball gown.
She stopped, flanked perfectly by three other girls. Lucy caught a whiff of hairspray and too much expensive perfume.
"Hi Lockwood, I just heard you got into the Carthage Tournament, congrats. Maybe we can do a bit of one on one training. I need a good tutor."
"I've seen you fence and yes you really do." George said it just loud enough for Lucy to hear. She stifled loud, ugly laughter.
But Lockwood was all politeness. He even smiled.
"Sorry Angela, I really can't. Busy with my team, and preparing for practicals."
Angela didn't seem disheartened in anyway.
"Actually, I've heard we need four team members this year. Maybe I can-"
"-nope sorry we have a fourth."
George and Lockwood turned sharply to her. But she pushed on.
Lucy thought it was high time she put an end to this. She really couldn't work with that girl without wanting to kick her into next week.
Angela's already fake smile turned into a frown with her teeth bared. It looked pasted on.
"Really?"
Her voice pitched an octave higher.
"Who?"
"Holly Monroe."
"Really. Wow..."
Angela turned to her girls, and as if on cue, they twittered lightly.
She waltzed off, but not before winking at Lockwood.
Lucy watched her retreating form, then turned back to the impaled dummy.
She felt the both boy's eyes on her as she braced her foot on the dummy and pulled, tumbling back as the rapier came free.
"Lucy..."
"...who is Holly Monroe?"
Lockwood started, then George finished the question.
She sighed.
"Just this girl who helped me in the locker room with my lock. She seemed competent and nice, relatively. Maybe a little bit of a perfectionist."
She scanned the room and spotted the perfect dark hair at the other end of the room.
"I'll introduce you."
That's right. In this AU, Lucy forced Holly on the boys MUHAHAHA! I'm not that great at fight scenes as you can tell, so any helpful (but not rude please! Be kind always) tips and comments are welcome and appreciated. Angela is so rude I can't help it! Im sorry again Guest I didn't name her after anyone personally. Aha! I HAVE BIG LOCKLYLE PLANS! Spoiler for next chapter: First canon instantance Lockwood calls Lucy "Luce"! Thank you as always! I cannot express the joy I get from reading y'all's reviews! I Adore U (Say the name, SEVENTEEN) I'm just getting into that fandom lol. Really tho, I love y'all! YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE THANK YOU!
Much love,
Sparkle
