"Well…"

The door flew open. The psycho from before, the one with the halberd, grinned from outside the door. "Ha! New guy, this isn't over yet. I'm about to whip-"

Everyone winced as a giant hammer suddenly displaced the youth's position from the door frame. With a crash, they heard him fly through the window.

Mike hurried to the window, in time to see his would-be assailant's body crashing down a slope. "Idiot. Fell for his own trap," Emmanuel snorted.

Sweet mercy, Mike shivered.

He felt someone punch his shoulder.

"So, what's it going to be?" Winnie inquired happily.

Mike turned around slowly, wincing. This was all rather sudden. He still wasn't even sure what was going on. "Uh, could I have some time to think it over?"

She smiled at him. 'Ehh, nah. I don't have that much patience."

He swallowed. Mike looked around cautiously; everyone was looking at him expectantly.

He hesitated, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Oh… all right. Fine."

Everyone immediately heaved a sigh of relief, smiling at him with easy grins.

Winnie walked up to him, and shook his hand with all the officiousness of a five star general. "Excellent. This is our headquarters, one of the few places we are safe from Angel. The password is 'melancholy melons.'"

He shook the proffered hand slowly, feeling something in him relax.

"This here is Harry," Winnie introduced, dragging the chuckling Battlefront member to her. "He's pretty lazy, but he can be useful on occasion."

"Yeah…." Harry laughed, and then choked. "Hey! That's not a compliment! "

He was summarily ignored as the massive youth looming to Mike's right was introduced. "This is Richard Lyons. He has a fifth degree in judo, so we call him Richie the fifth, out of respect."

"Nice to meet ya," Richie replied, shaking Mike's hand with surprising gentleness.

"Lurking beside you is Emmanuel."

Emmanuel raised a challenging eyebrow at the newcomer. "Don't mess with me, punk."

"Hey, uh, I'm not a punk…"

"The girl hiding in the shadows over in the corner is Hannah, the one who keeps on muttering 'this is so stupid.' I wouldn't mess with her either."

Hannah glowered at him; her sapphire blue eyes glittered from over her fluffy indigo scarf.

He waved at her tentively. "Oh, don't worry, I won't, I mean, I wouldn't-"

"This joker right here is Luke," Harry added, grabbing the innocent looking youth from the outskirts of the crowd. "He's exceptional, in that, well, we haven't found anything exceptional in him yet."

Luke stuttered a frantic greeting.

Winifred smirked. "That guy over there, the one who keeps straightening his glasses to look smart, that's Elliot. He's actually an Idiot, by the way."

Elliot frowned at him, started to push up his spectacles, and then quickly took his hand down.

Emmanuel pointed out the window. "That moron who just went flying was Jake… he should be fine."

Another girl in a uniform similar to Winifred's approached Mike, the one who had proposed desperate Battlefront. "I'm Hayley," she introduced, nodded at Mike with one cool gesture.

"She's the leader of our diversion unit."

One last figure swung into view. He hadn't said anything throughout all that had occurred, but had instead been in what seemed to be in a constant state of motion. He swayed, tapped, and spun as he muttered indistinct phrases to himself, swinging to a beat only he could hear.

"Dude, feel the grove, man," he moaned, jazzing up next to Mike for a beat, and then jumping back.

"That's TK. He's cool," Winnie explained briefly.

Mike gazed at him in awe. "Just how high is this guy?"

Winifred pumped her fist. "Well, that's everyone in the combat division. There are a few other people around the school, involved in other goals."

She grabbed Mike by the shoulder, and began to drag him bodily out of the room. "Now come on! There's a lot you need to be filled in on, and I'm tired of being indoors."

The clock on the wall ticked slowly, the flickering red minute hand dancing around its plain white face.

Angel stared at it, her face impassive.

"-and that's why we need to tighten dress code regulations, regarding the usual "Friday free-and-easies". I suggest… hey! Mrs. President, are you listening to me?" the school boy protested, putting down his rod as he turned away from his PowerPoint.

She nodded, shifting her eyes to the student. "Yes. You were protesting the deviations of some students from dress code policy. If it is school regulation, then I shall see it enforced," she agreed softly.

"Ah, yes… thank you, Mrs. President," the student council member apologized quickly, ears burning under the admonishing glares of his peers.

"And, if I may, the worst infractions are usually from the same people. Those… delinquents, you know, the ones who…"

As the boy was speaking, his voice sputtered out, as a haze of confusion filled him. None of the other council members spoke, each one appearing just as befuddled.

Finally, they resurfaced, like clockwork machines rewound.

"There is a movement among the students to replace the limeade in the vending machines," another student council member spoke, as if they had been discussing beverages for the last ten minutes. "Limey-lime soda has been proposed."

Angel turned away from the proceedings again. She returned her cherubic gaze out the window, where the school's dormitories squatted in the sun light.

"The rule breakers will be punished," she murmured. "It is my duty."

"Soon, they will meet justice."