"That was probably the worst, most boring, speech in history," thought Gregor, as he had walked away from the assembly, which had taken place in the cafeteria. Lizzie had never arrived, but Gregor didn't think that much of it. He personally thought she was lucky to not show up! The assembly was extremely long, and the uncomfortable chairs had taken a toll on his behind. Plus the whole time Corey had just been staring at him, mouth slightly ajar, and eyes widened. This probably wouldn't of affected Lizzie, but it made Gregor uncomfortable. He didn't think what he had said would have that big of an impact, but apparently Corey thought it to be outrageously difficult to comprehend. Odd.

Another problem - or person, depending on your view of things - Gregor had to deal with during the assembly, was Sarah. The whole time she had been staring at him, like Corey, but had also been doing some . . . other things. For example, every once in a while she would pucker her lips, stroke his thigh or bicep, or give the occasional moan or small squeak. While, normally, this would have turned any other guy on, it was absolutely disgusting, creepy, and completely inappropriate to Gregor. He had even started to have some more nightmare fantasies involving Sarah. Mostly just him ripping her tongue out of her head, and then using it to choke her.

Overall, the assembly was essentially a torture for children.

When the bell finally rung, and the monotone head-of-school finished his awful speech, the kids all ran to their respective buildings and periods, and the school day then really began. Well, it was actually more like the day of boring, dream-crushing, teachers' speeches started.

Gregor had slept through it all.

While Gregor didn't actually fall asleep, he was very close to it. While it was okay to have Corey (still staring) in his Math and Robotics, and less so to have Sarah (who continued to flirt with Gregor) in his Science class, the whole day was teachers, basically, explaining the rules of the class, and handing out the syllabus of that certain subject. A few times, during class, though, he would notice a girl wink at him, or hear some guy snicker behind his back. Gregor didn't bother with them. He didn't bother with them, because, he just didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore, not since he left the Underland.

The day went by very slowly, and Gregor could not wait for it to be over. Especially during sixth period. The reason?

Sixth Period was gym.

Everybody had gym at the same time, but the boys and girls were separated into two different groups. While this may sound like a lot of people in one area, it didn't seem like it. There were roughly 60 people in the eleventh grade, and the gym was colossal, you could probably fit one hundred people in the room - Gregor still wasn't sure why the assembly was not located in the gym -, so there was still a fairly decent amount of space in the room.

Gregor wasn't sure what the girls were doing, and wasn't particularly inclined to find out, but he dreaded what the boys had to "learn". He had tried to avoid participating in the activity, but the coach had insisted, no matter how much Gregor had pleaded.

Gregor had walked up to the Coach . . . Tom, he thought it was, and, after introducing himself, explained (lied) why he couldn't take place in the sport.

"I'm sorry Coach Tom, but I just can't do this. My parents insist I don't go anywhere near those . . . tools." Gregor had tried to reason with the Coach.

"Relax, little feller!" he responded - apparently he was Coach Tom, thankfully, Gregor didn't want the embarrassment of getting the Coaches' name wrong on his shoulders-, "I'm sure I could talk to them after the lesson. And besides, even if ya do get in trouble, I can take the blame for ya! Whadd'ya say, buddy?" Coach Tom had responded, in his thick, country accent, trying to persuade Gregor to take place in the lesson.

"I am very sorry, but I ca-" Gregor was about to veer off into a firm speech, but was cut off by Coach Tom before he could say anything in his, dreary, menacing voice, that would usually make anybody either "A," depressed, or "B," back off. Usually.

"Hey, you can do this. There is no need ta worry, and besides, yer'll love it! I mean, who wouldn't? It's swordplay!" Coach Tom exclaimed, attempting to cheer Gregor up.

It didn't work.

Gregor didn't personally believe that having children fight with swords was actually legal, but he decided not to say anything. He had already lost this battle of words.

As the boys started equipping themselves with their "armor (it was really just padding)," the adults started pulling out real, metal swords. What kind of a school was this?! Did the teachers want the children to kill themselves?! Did they find joy, in watching teenagers fight to the death?! This had to be illegal. The only comfort Gregor had was that the coaches were carefully putting the swords into their scabbards, and then wrapping them in bubble-wrap.

It had to be the dumbest thing Gregor had ever seen.

His one comfort didn't do much though, compared to the countless of other discomforts. The largest one being what would happen if . . . if his rager side started acting up. The fantasies were already beginning to seep into Gregors mind.

When all of the students, including Gregor, were all "suited up," in leather padding, and what were probably, plastic helmets, Coach Tom began his announcement.

"Alright everybody, remember, this is a very dangerous sport, and ya'll will need to be very, very, careful, when participating in it. Remember, the government only allows us one week to teach ya'll swordplay per year, so we better make it count. Most of you know the basics from last year, but this year - er, week, I should say, we will actually be fighting with each other.
Now, fer those o' ya'll who weren't here last year, raise yer hands." Gregor raised his hand, along with three other kids. He had remembered taking sword-fightin' lessons at his old school, for tenth grade, but the swords were cheap, and plastic, and Gregor had always convinced the coach to not let him play. "Okay, now, out of ye all, which of yer fellas have never played sword before?" All three of the other kids raised their hands, but Gregor did not. He thought about raising his hand, for a moment, but his rager side forced him not too. It wanted to fight, it wanted . . . blood. This was not going to end well.
"Okay, three o' you, go over there, to Coach Kelli," Coach said, pointed towards the bleachers, where someone, presumably, Coach Kelli, was, "Gregor, come o'er here. I want ya to show me whatcha got."

This was definitely not going to end well.

Gregor slowly walked towards Coach Tom, who was holding a sword out for him, completely trusting. It was nice, in a way, but awful, in another.

When Gregor reached Coach, he handed him the sword. Gregor was immediately reminded of the time Vikus, a kind old man, who had helped Gregor through some of his journeys in the Underland, handed him Bartholomew of Sandwich's sword, but Gregor had refused it then. Sandwich was the founder of the city of Regalia, and was one of the first people to have arrived in the Underland. He was actually the one who had carved out all of Gregors adventures, in prophecy form, along with countless others, in a small room, known as, The Prophecy Room. How original. Gregor, along with Ripred, a rat who had helped him in his adventures, both, personally, did not believe in the prophecies, but that was just them. Veering away from Sandwich, Sandwich's sword, on the other hand, was at a completely different level.

Beautiful, and deadly, it was probably the fiercest, most powerful sword Gregor had ever held in his life. And he's held a lot of swords.

Gregor had smashed it in half.

Lu . . . the princess, and Ripred had been arguing over who the warrior, Gregor, would fight for, when Gregor butted in. He had gotten mad, saying that they had just fought a war, and now they were about to have another one! It was ridiculous! In the end, Gregor destroyed the masterpiece of a sword, his exact words being -

"There. The warrior is dead, I killed him."

. . .

Those were some good times.

All of a sudden, a voice brought Gregor back to reality.

"Gregor? Gregor!?" Coach Tom was saying, "Yers been standing there fer a minute now. You okay?" He held out the sword again.

Gregor nodded, and took the sword.

"Okay good. Lucas, get o'er here." Coach beckoned a kid over. "Gregor, this is Lucas, he was our best from last year, and I wanna see how well you can do against em." Lucas held out his hand, and Gregor shook it. It seemed like a nice-enough gesture at first, but then Lucas started squeezing. Hard. Gregor looked up at his face and saw a smug, spoiled brat stare back at him. Gregor immediately disliked Lucas, and would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him get hurt. So, Gregor squeezed back. Harder. He saw Lucas tremble, and then they let go of each other.

The course of these events lasted about four seconds.

"Alright! I want everybody to make a circle, and I want Gregor and Lucas on the inside o' it. On my count, they will spar, and when I blow my whistle, probably when one o' yers on the ground, the match will be o'er. Clear?!" Everybody nodded, and got into position.
"Okay, the match between Gregor Spearman, and Lucas Crocker, will start in -"

"3!"

Gregors blood started to boil. He could feel the rager deep within him stirring.

"2!"

Gregor started to grin, a maniacal grin. Stretching from ear to ear.

"1!"

Gregor raised his sword.

"GO!"

Gregor lunged.

Gregor had to admit, Lucas had some skill, but Gregor was better.

Much, better.

Lucas managed to hold his ground, for about two seconds, when Gregor faked a shot to the chest, but then switched to his head. Lucas realized this just as Gregors sword made contact, and then Lucas fell to the ground, in a daze. Gregor could faintly hear Coach Tom blowing his whistle, yelling for them to stop, but Gregor paid it no mind. He just continued to beat Lucas, kicking him, swatting him with his sword, over and over again, as if he were but a mere fly. He could see some blood coming out of his mouth from under his visor. That just fueled Gregor on. He continued to beat Lucas, relentlessly, grinning from ear to ear, on the verge of laughter, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gregor just turned around and punched whoever it was, in the face, without waiting to check and see who had actually tried to stop him.

It was Corey.

Corey simply lay sprawled on the floor, a faint drizzle of blood coming from his nose, which was clearly broken, and from his mouth. He probably had internal bleeding.

Gregor was horrified by what he had just done, and threw his sword to the floor, and started clutching his head, hating himself. He began to scream uncontrollably, gasping for breath. Everybody most likely thought he belonged in an asylum.

Gregor was having an internal battle with himself. His rager side saying he should kill everybody within sight, he easily could, but the more normal, caring Gregor was desperately trying not to. Trying to suppress the urge. He couldn't take it, he couldn't control it! It was overwhelming, the urge, the fantasies were flooding his head, it was all he could think of! Unsheathing his sword, killing his classmates, cutting open their chests, slowly picking off limbs.

He couldn't handle it, it was all too much! The girls had come over too, everybody was watching in horror the scene displayed before them. Nobody dared get near Gregor, afraid of what he might do to them. He was mental, insane, whirled up into a Frenzy! Everybody, including Gregor, was scared of him.

No, they were scared of the Rager. Gregor was a good person. Before the Underland, he was kind, he was normal, and he absolutely despised fighting. He loathed it. Every word for hate you could think of, Gregor felt that way towards fighting.

Gregor hated violence, and he, not the rager, but he, was a good person.

Knowing this gave Gregor the strength to stop screaming, although he was left sputtering, speaking unintelligible, insane mumbles. He forced them to end.

Finally, straightened, Gregor barely managed to strut past the crowd of people, who immediately moved away when he neared them, creating a path for him to reach the door. They could see the pained, menacing, tired, and scared look in his eyes. Although his face was a blank slate, only his eyes, revealed his secrets.

And when he opened that door, that, wondrous door leading to the outside world, away from the gym . . .

He was met with fresh air, and did something that he had not done in three years, eleven months, and twenty-two days.

He abandoned his mask, for but a mere moment, and smiled.

AUTHORS NOTE:

And here is the third chapter. Pretty dark, huh? I might have to change this to a 'T' rating . . . I should probably do that right now, actually . . . eh. I'll do it later. Anyway, I want to give a special shoutout to Koipbuiop, for reviewing (twice), and for pointing out a few of my errors. I originally wanted to have something extra dark happen in either this chapter or the next, but after hearing, or reading(?) Koipbuiop's review, I decided to bring some of that darkness in on this chapter. I said some. There will be darker, more detailed chapters. Much more, dark and detailed chapters . . . Your welcome. Also, ya hear that people? If you review a few times, add some ideas, point out some errors, you'll get a whole few sentences dedicated to you! Woooaaah . . . amazing, right? - #sarcsasm - Moving on, the next chapter will be up shortly, probably within the span of three days (as will most every chapter), and I'm thinking of either doing it on something along the lines of Gregor being suspended, a news story on him, or basically him going to school, and getting shunned, or have like a million questions thrown at him. Review (key word there) on what you think would be best, but for the moment, Cya'll later peoples!

Rotting Hood, out!