Fingers rapped on a mahogany desk with an almost hypnotic pace. Every other tap seemed to be in perfect sync with the clock in the headmaster's office. Looking down at his desk, the Headmaster raised his brow at the file perfectly in the center of his workspace. It was not the first time he had seen this file, causing a deep sigh to whisp out of his throat. The dreary and oppressive office space meant that the subject of today's dressing down had nowhere to flee from the aged canine's wrath. Standing in the execution square was a young blue-feathered avian dressed in a cadet's uniform, standing as tall and upright as possible. His hands nervously twitched behind his back as he subtly rocked back and forth on his boots, the tension in the air stabbing right through him.

After a long silence, the Headmaster spoke up. "So. Falco Lombardi. Here we are yet again. This has been your fifth incident in the past month alone. That is on top of your absences from class, noise disturbances, coarse behavior, and poor written test scores." His voice boomed through the air.

"I didn't start it this time, sir. It was-"

The Headmaster put his hand up, silencing the student. "The Academy has taken a chance on you that most people would kill for. We see potential in you, the potential to be one of the finest pilots that has ever flown for the CDF. Your sim exams have been some of the highest in this fine institution's history." The canine's glare darkened as he folded his arms on the table, covering the file. "But you are undisciplined, even after multiple suspensions. You are a year behind where you should be. The Board wants you expelled."

Falco froze in place, his knees weakening as the words ran through him like a freight train. The shock quickly mixed with anger as he took a step toward the desk, his beak curling in rage. "Expelled?! For what?! You just said it yourself, my scores on the sims are the best! I am the best! I can fly circles around anyone else in my class, hell, my whole grade!"

The Headmaster's blank stare burned a hole through the cadet. Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with the troublesome student. "Allow me to tell you a story. Thirty years ago, the West Katina front. There was a squad of CDF troops stationed on an FOB. Nothing special, just routine patrols, equipment checks, so forth and so on. The base never saw much action, being used mostly as a resupply depot. Of course, one of the troops was bored. He was a real hotshot, always in the sims taking down anyone who challenged him. He was a soldier, a fighter, a warrior! He wanted to get out there and earn himself some glory, not sit in a glorified training camp for his entire tour. What did his CO know anyway? So one night, he grabs a rifle, a backpack full of ammo, and a buggy before driving out to a local insurgent hideout. He kicked down that front door expecting it to play out like the movies. You wanna know what happened as soon as that door swung open?"

The question was rhetorical, as the Headmaster did not wait for a response. "He was slaughtered in under a minute. All that time in the sims and he was reduced to nothing more than a stain before he could even empty a single magazine. And now the insurgents had his gear, his rifle, his buggy, and his ammo. So they peeled the uniform off of his corpse, took the buggy, and got one of their guys to pass as the poor soldier. That base was torched from the inside, and the entire platoon there was K.I.A. All because he thought he was the best."

Falco stood still, the angry snarl still curling his beak. The Headmaster noticed this, his own glare dueling with the cadet's. "Your behavior is exactly like that soldier. You could be the best pilot we've ever had, but that won't mean jack when you get shot down because you were too undisciplined to follow your squad leader's instructions. In war, there are no solo heroes, no lone soldiers shifting the tide of battle. There's you and your team. If you snap that chain, you'll not only kill yourself but your entire team as well. Do you understand me?"

Falco stood in place for a few seconds, his mind spinning. There were a million things he wanted to say, his beak quivering with potential rants, pleas, shouts, and colorful language that would only end his career before it even started. Finally, he nodded. "I understand, sir."

"Good," the Headmaster affirmed. Looking back down at the file, he pulled it closer to the edge of his side of the desk. "Your sim scores have been the only thing that has saved you thus far from any expulsion. Today was supposed to be the last straw, but it is also my birthday, so I am feeling generous. This is the last time we will ever see each other under these circumstances, Falco Lombardi. If you are here again for the same reasons, you will be out of The Academy by the same afternoon. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir."

"Excellent. You are free to go."

~::::~

The headmaster's words bounced around in the avian's head for hours. They were enough to motivate him to attend class today, but not to pay attention. The call for lunch gave Falco enough time to think about his future actions. Sure his scores were amazing, practically making Academy records with some of them. But because of his attitude, he was about to get the boot. Had that even been done, someone getting kicked out of a school despite their high marks? And that story, was it even real? Or was it just a tale meant to snap Falco into shape?

The thoughts brought Falco to the line for food in the cantina. It was the usual Academy basics; no flavor, all nutrients. Falco wondered if it would kill the staff to serve up something that tasted good and was healthy as well. But the rubbery vegetables, dry meat, and bottles of barely cold water were the best he was going to get. His mind moved to a place to sit. Almost every table was packed to the brim, full of chatting cadets and their friends. Falco stood like a statue for a minute, trying to find any table in the cantina that had not been taken by an entire platoon. Finally, he found one. It was by the exit and next to a garbage can, but beggars could not be choosers. It only had 3 other cadets sitting at it, which was practically empty by his standards.

Taking his seat as far away as possible from the other three, Falco began to dig through his meal. It always tasted like the color beige. Bland, unremarkable, and yet making its presence known. He sat in silence, chewing his food as the thoughts of the day ran through his brain. There was not much to say, he had to shape up now. There would be no second chance.

Falco's thoughts were broken up by the three cadets scooting closer to him. In a quick glance, Falco was able to make out the three under his sharp eyes. Closest to him was a short toad, his face riddled in acne. A set of braces were fixed firmly on his teeth, giving the kind of glare that Falco would dunk his head in the sink for. Sitting across from them was a white and brown-furred bulldog, one ear flopped over his head as he gave off a relaxed smirk. The final cadet was a red fox, his fluffy dipstick tail hidden behind his body. His triangular ears were up and alert with a classic vulpine smile. For some reason, Falco locked eyes with the vulpine for a few seconds. He did not know why, there was just something about him that was hard to look away from.

Time seemed to slow as all three looked at the avian before the toad finally spoke up. "Um, hi! My friends call Slippy!" The toad's voice was like rubbing sandpaper over Falco's ears as he subtly rolled his eyes. All the hunger left his stomach, now filled with a three-course meal of annoyance. To his dismay, the toad continued to talk. "And you are?"

"Leaving." Falco turned to stand up with his tray in hand before his eyes managed to lock with a group of cadets he recognized. They recognized him right back, causing Falco to swear under his breath as he quickly sat down and averted his gaze from everyone.

"So, the Headmaster didn't throw you out like the trash you are, did he, Falco?"

Falco remained silent, hoping his lack of response would get them to leave. It was clear they were here to stay when they surrounded him, casting their glares down on him as if to read him for all of his sins. "You know," one of the cadets, a jaguar, began. "Rodney's still in the hospital because of what you did. You think you're a tough guy because you can use a metal pipe?"

"Back off, Rico," Falco moaned. "You know your little posse started it."

"And I couldn't care less. Now-" The jaguar paused as he looked past the avian to notice the fox glaring a hole in him. He chuckled, looking back down at Falco with a sneer. "You think having Fox around will keep you safe? We'll see how tough you are without the Boy Scout around, Lombardi. Better sleep with one eye open."

With a snap of his fingers, the jaguar motioned for his friends to follow him away from the table, each one keeping an eye on Falco. Once the gang of cadets had left, Falco could finally breathe. Looking back at the table, each one of the occupants had a different expression. Slippy appeared as if he had just seen death itself wave the scythe in front of him, while the bulldog next to him chuckled slightly. The fox kept his glare for a few more seconds before shaking off the stare for a soft smile.

"So," the fox began, turning to face Falco. "You must be that guy who's barely ahead of me in the sims?"

"I'm ahead of a lot of people there, so what?"

The smirk on Falco's beak told the fox all he needed to know as he stuck out his hand for a shake. "The name's James McCloud Jr, but my friends call me Fox. Nice to meet you, Falco."

Falco's brows raised as he recognized the name. After all, who did not? "Huh, so you're the McCloud kid, got an ace pilot for a dad. He manage to sneak you in here?"

Fox shook his head. "Worked my tail off for it, same as everyone else here." Falco scoffed at the words before he ignored the gesture and went to eating his lunch. There was an awkward silence before the bulldog across the table raised his brow and crossed his arms. "So, why'd those guys want you kicked out?"

Falco's mood fell back down as he set his fork down. "Look, it's my business, alright? I don't wanna talk about it."

"You had a clique of dudes come by and almost pick a fight with you, I think we at least deserve the backstory to that incident," the bulldog justified. He looked like he was a pup waiting for the tale to be told as he placed his jaw in the palms of his hands.

After a few seconds and a sigh, Falco spoke up. "Alright, they tried to trash my chopper a few days ago, but I caught them in the act and cracked that asshole's brother in the knee with a pipe I had. Better?"

A keyword piqued the floppy ears of the bulldog, lighting his eyes up like a star. "Chopper? You mean a motorcycle?"

Falco nodded. "Built her myself. Found a rusted-out frame in the junkyard and got to work, she's been my sole transport around the Campus. Plus, I can just park her wherever I want," Falco let out a dry chuckle as he pointed towards the bulldog with a soggy fry in his fingers. "Helps me save on a freakin' b.s parking pass, y'know?"

"You did it all yourself?" Slippy's sudden question came with excited eyes. "You gotta let me check it out someday, I'd love to see it!"

"Oh boy, here he goes," the bulldog said with a knowing grin. "Watch out, Slippy here likes to tinker. You let him near your chopper, he's bound to put an afterburner on the thing."

"Bill!" Slippy's voice cried out, making Falco cringe as the toad frowned in the bulldog's direction.

"What," Bill began with an innocent voice. "Am I wrong? Dude, you tinker with everything. That's how you blew the motor in my car, after all."

"I said I was sorry..."

"Did I ever say I was upset? That was awesome!"

Falco looked across the table at the wide-eyed toad, reading a mixture of joy and partial embarrassment. "Well, sorry to disappoint," he began, breaking up the trip down memory lane. "But I'm the only one who gets to work on her. I might let you see what makes her tick though, if I'm feeling generous."

"Maybe after class?"

Slippy's hounding made Falco's scoff as he shook his head. "Look, I'd love to, but I was gonna go blow off some steam after. Got a lot going on in my head right now.

"You know, if you wanna blow off some steam, wanna come to my gym later? Working out always gets my mind off things when I'm stressed."

Falco turned to look Fox up and down with a raised brow. He certainly did not look like he could lift above his body weight, much less compete with Falco on a bench press. But he had to admit, lifting heavy things always managed to get his mind off of whatever ailed him at the moment. "Eh, sure. Beat's loopin' the C-20 for hours. You got your own place?"

Fox nodded. "Yep, it's a fifteen-minute walk off campus. Not my usual place, but that's too far away when school's in session. It's pretty vacant after class anyway, people don't start showing up until the sun sets. We could have the whole place to ourselves."

Falco bounced the words around in his mind. A workout would certainly help his mood. Looking back up at Fox, Falco nodded. "Alright, you're on." Falco was so wrapped up in the invitation that he missed the traded glance between Bill and Slippy, reading a mixture of worry and excitement.

~::::~

Falco's motorcycle could be heard before anyone could see it. The shiny metallic red bike roared down the road, with the rider not caring much about signals or speed limits. Splitting traffic was no issue for the avian, as his bike's frame gave him the room he needed to do so. The campus environment was quickly replaced by a small college town. Residential neighborhoods and shopping centers flanked Falco as he continued his ride, letting the wind ruffle through his leather jacket and jeans. It always felt nice to feel the air blow all around him, keeping him cool and comfortable.

However, the ride was over quickly, as Falco's GPS told him he would be arriving at the gym momentarily. Strangely, he had never heard of a gym in this place. He obeyed the GPS, pulling over to the side of the road and turning the bike off. Flipping the kickstand down, Falco removed his goggles and placed them around the handlebars before looking up at the gym. His brow raised as he noticed the sign on the front. West Lake Taekwondo. Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Falco made sure the address Fox gave him was right. It was, but this was not a gym. At least, not to Falco. With a sigh, he stepped off his bike and entered the building.

Falco's boots hit the polished wood of the foyer as soon as he stepped in. The stench of sweat and rubber hit his nose, making him recoil slightly as he moved his workout gear bag from his bag to his free hand. It sure smelled like a gym. The sounds of martial arts cries instantly caught Falco's ears as he looked up. Fox was by himself in the center of the room, looking like he was fighting the air as if his life depended on it on the blue training mats. He was dressed in a full taekwondo uniform, complete with a black belt around his waist. After a few additional seconds of kicking the wind, A snicker from Falco broke through the air. Fox paused mid-kick, before planting his foot on the floor and turning to notice Falco.

"Falco," Fox exclaimed as he jogged over to the edge of the mat where the avian was. "Glad you could make it! The instructors let me use this place to train before any classes come in!"

"Alright, we gotta get this out of the way first. What the hell are you wearing, dude?"

Fox raised his brow, looking down at himself before looking back at Falco. "My dobok? What's wrong with it?"

Falco rolled his eyes, still snickering slightly as he hooked his gear bag around his back again. "I thought you meant gym as in a gym. You know, bench presses, weights, all that stuff? Not some goofy karate school."

"Two things," Fox began, holding up two fingers for emphasis. "First, this is a taekwondo school, not a karate school. Second, I figured you could use this."

"What? Use dressing up in pajamas, bowing, and going 'hiyah' before breaking a wood board with a chop?"

"Use a fight."

Falco's eyes went wide as Fox revealed the truth. "Use... a fight?"

"That's what I said."

"You wanna fight me?"

"News travels fast at the Academy. I heard you were getting into all kinds of fights there, and today just proved it. With all that talk going around, I just wanna see if you're as good at hand-to-hand as you are in the sims."

Falco glared at the fox, looking for any break in his flawed logic. He ended up sighing and throwing his wings up when he could not find one. "Look, I'm not gonna fight some nepo-baby I just met. I've got no reason to anyway. Thanks for the invite, but I'll see you around campus."

As soon as Falco turned and began to walk toward the door, Fox crossed his arms with a smirk. "Oh, so Falco Lombardi is scared of a fight? I guess Slippy and Bill could use a good laugh about that tomorrow." Falco stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face Fox with a furrowed brow.

"You really don't wanna make scraping with me personal, McCloud."

"Are you going to do something about it? Or are you just going to let me talk down to you like those jerks earlier?"

Falco dropped his gear bag where he stood and walked up to Fox with a furrowed brow. Fox kept the smug smirk on his grin as the avian marched up to him, pulling off his leather jacket to reveal a white tank top and jamming a finger into his chest as soon as he reached the edge of the mat. "Alright then, you really want me to kick your ass, karate boy?"

"It's taekwondo, Falco."

"Whatever. Let's dance."

As soon as Falco stepped on the mat, Fox suddenly cringed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop!"

Falco was taken back, his brow raising once more in confusion. "Wait, so... you don't want me to fight you? You're sendin' mixed messages."

"No," Fox sighed as he gestured to Falco's boots.

"My boots? What's wrong with them?"

"No shoes on the mats. It keeps them clean and prevents them from tearing."

Falco groaned as he knelt down to unclasp his boots, eventually removing both of them and tossing them to the side as he shrugged. "Satisfied?"

"...you should probably take your socks off too."

Falco scoffed at the second request, rolling his eyes as he stepped past Fox and onto the mats. "Yeah, that's not happenNNIIIII-" Falco fell to the mats on his back in glorious fashion, landing hard on the soft matting. A grumble arose from his throat as he lay there, staring up at the lights before Fox's silhouette saved him.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Falco began, sarcasm clawing out of his beak. "I just thought I'd take a quick nap here. It's comfy down here."

Fox scoffed, extending his arm down to the fallen bird. Falco looked at the gesture and rolled his eyes. "I can stand up on my own," he hissed, slowly getting to his feet. Begrudgingly heeding the new advice, Falco reached down and tugged his socks off before tossing them next to his boots. "There, do you feel better now? Can we finally fight?"

Fox nodded, taking a step back and assuming his fighting stance, hopping back and forth on his feet. Compared to the vulpine, Falco simply stood with a slight hunch and narrowed his gaze. He slowly inched toward Fox with a cautious glare, before he suddenly lashed out with a jab. Falco was always first to throw a punch in any fight. Getting first blood was a point of personal pride for the avian, which explained his shock as his fist soared past Fox's head.

Without missing a beat, Falco quickly tried to follow up his missed jab with a left hook, but his opponent dodged that too. Even though he was zero for two, Falco smirked as he pulled out his match finisher. The vulpine left his chin wide open, prompting the avian to go for a low right uppercut. Pulling his arm back, Falco shot his fist up at Fox's jaw. He waited for the tell-tale crack of the punch against flesh, fur, and bone. But it never came. Fox calmly leaned backward, dodging Falco's fist by a measured centimeter. He did not even blink as he dodged the blow.

Falco's brain tried to connect the dots on what just happened before he noticed the vulpine's new stance. He was not simply dodging, he was striking back. With a loud martial arts cry, Fox lifted his rear leg before chambering it for a front snap kick. The move caught Falco off-guard, unable to come up with a defense for the move before the ball of his foot struck him on his jaw. Falco's head snapped back, his eyes wide as he noticed Fox's foot come into view, before it came crashing down on top of his head. Now Falco was staring at the matting, only able to wince in pain before Fox's foot was in view once more. With a powerful side-thrust kick, he kicked his opponent square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward.

The trio of kicks lasted for a total of two seconds, happening quickly enough for Falco to doubt the truth. But his stinging jaw, head, and chest were all the proof he needed. Looking at his opponent, he was standing with his leg still chambered for a kick, as if he was waiting for Falco to charge him. His face showed no signs of a preppy jerk or a cocky showoff. His face was made of stone, and no emotion besides neutral focus on his face. This pissed off Falco more than it should have.

With a curled beak, Falco charged the fox, apparently catching him off guard. Falco randomized his punches, throwing them as quickly and accurately as he could. A mix of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts were thrown Fox's way. Falco let his cockiness show when he managed to slip past his opponent's defenses with a quick one-two hook-uppercut combo. Fox was stunned by the attacks, making Falco chuckle. "Come on karate boy," Falco shouted. "Havin' trouble keepin' up?!" Keeping the pressure on, Falco rushed the gi-clad fox with his fist pulled back in a haymaker.

His punch was too slow, as Fox parried the attack by stepping forward and whipping his rear leg around in a reverse roundhouse kick. There was a loud slapping sound as Fox kicked Falco's punch out of the air, sending his arm down to the side. Pain began to throb through the avian's arm, making him hiss in pain as he tried to refocus. Fox was not done just yet, as he quickly adjusted his stance and sent out a kick toward Falco's side.

Acting on reflex, Falco brought his arms to his left side to guard against the kick, but it was a trick. In a split second, Fox pulled his leg back at the last possible moment before contact and quickly guided his foot to the other side of Falco's head in a perfect inverted roundhouse kick. The instep of his foot slammed into Falco's skull, dropping him to the mat out of a loss of balance and shock. Keeping his footing, Fox raised his leg up for another axe kick, but Falco was used to getting knocked down.

Realizing he was on one foot, Falco kicked out at Fox's knee, causing him to buckle. Fox instantly switched from a kick to a landing, planting his foot on the mat to catch himself. Mustering all the strength he could from his downed position, Falco kicked at Fox's face, sending the vulpine down to the mat as well. The two quickly scrambled to their feet, Fox performing a technical standup to get some distance while Falco tried to close the gap. It was Fox who won out in the scramble, gaining ground before Falco could grab him.

The short brawl was already showing signs of damage. Falco felt his face throb from Fox's kicks, while he could see scuffs and bruises left by a few of his punches and kicks on the vulpine. A small feeling of respect bubbled up in Falco's chest as he kept his eyes on Fox. "Huh," he thought with a smirk. "Turns out the nepo-baby can actually fight. He still looks like a complete clown though. Time to split that ego." Fox continued to circle Falco in his stance, prompting the avian to speak up. "You still think you got it in you, McCloud? I'll admit, you're lasting longer than I thought you were gonna!"

Fox rolled eyes, maintaining his stance in the process. "You're sloppy," he criticized, looking at the avian's posture. "But you're definitely more than just talk. Let's keep going."

"Damn, mini-McCloud's got some fire! Don't go cryin' to daddy when I beat your ass!"

Fox scoffed, before rushing toward the avian with a focused glare. His shouts announced his kicks, as Falco quickly adapted to listen and defend. Still, it was hard to keep the pace. Kicks came flying at Falco, barely allowing him to get in any offensive work. Any time he tried, Fox's foot stopped him dead in his tracks. Frustration quickly set in as Falco tried to land a quick front kick against the vulpine, only to be met with an even faster kick, a roundhouse that knocked him back slightly.

As Falco regained his footing, he noticed the vulpine step forward, turn, leap into the air, and whip his leg around. There was a millisecond of reaction time available to the avian, so he reacted on instinct. With a shout, Falco built up as much momentum as he could with only an inch of available space and tackled Fox out of the air. Fox's head lurched forward before he was driven into the mat, one leg behind Falco's back while his other leg was between Falco's. This gave Falco all he needed to pass the guard and start raining down punches.

Falco lost track of how many times his fist struck Fox. Be it his arms or face, he was swinging for the fences. Fox knew the danger he was in right now and quickly moved to give himself some space. Snaking his leg from around Falco's back, he used the momentum to whip his leg around in a roundhouse from his back. The kick did its job, getting Falco off of him and allowing him room to breathe.

As Falco wiped his beak, he noticed Fox rolled onto his shoulders before kipping up to his feet, now in a full fighting stance. Both of the avian's eyes widened slightly before a scoff crossed his mouth. "Fancy tricks ain't gonna save you, McCloud."

Fox remained silent once more, prompting Falco to continue his assault. He pulled every trick from the playbook he formed over years of brawling. He hid a punch by feigning a backhanded strike to the mouth, causing Fox to mistime a block as Falco's fist ran across his jaw. The avian refused to let up, quickly following it up with a knee strike to the midsection, causing Fox to wince as he dropped to all fours.

Just as Falco brought up his opposite knee to lay Fox out with a strike to his jaw, the vulpine suddenly executed a picture-perfect leg sweep. Waiting for Falco to only have one foot on the mat, there was next to zero resistance as Fox's leg struck the Achilles of Falco's foot. The avian tumbled to the mat, but once again made space for himself. Fox did not allow him any rest and was gearing up for another attack. Falco prepared for a middle or high strike, but searing pain burned through his swept leg as Fox's foot struck him clean in the calf.

Falco was sent tumbling to the mat again, wincing for a second before getting back to his feet. Taking note of Fox's stance, Falco was prepared to avoid yet another low kick. As soon as Fox's leg was chambered for another strike, Falco hopped into the air, smirking for a split-second. In the next split-second, however, his smirk turned into a mixture of shock and annoyance as Fox froze in place, waiting for Falco to land.

"Oh, for-"

As soon as Falco's feet hit the mat, he was swept off them, grunting in pain as his back hit the mat. There was no more playfulness in Falco's visage. Now, he was going to win. He had to win. He looked at Fox, still in his stance, and snarled as he dusted himself off. In a last-ditch moment of action, Falco quickly got to his feet and began throwing everything he had at his opponent. Jabs, elbows, kicks, whatever could do damage. His blows landed more often than not, but they barely slowed the vulpine down.

Fox went through the same motions. His kicks would find their mark more often than not, tagging all over the avian's body with pinpoint precision. The amount of adrenaline mixed with determination coursing through the veins of both fighters was nigh-unbreakable, as they took shots only to give out the exact same amount. Fox's foot met Falco's fight in the middle, giving both combatants a quick breather. Both were worn down by the fight, the damage clearly visible. Fox's hair was ruffled, the once pristine white mohawk now flat and drooping, matted with sweat. His face was bruised and swollen from the numerous blows dealt to him, while his dobok was quickly turning a mix of white, black, and red. What injuries lay behind the clothing were anyone's guess for now, but he kept his breathing regulated.

Falco looked like he had been jumped by the cadets again. His blue feathers were turning purple from the bruising Fox's kicks gave him. Like Fox's dobok, his white tank top was gaining some red splotches on it, as well as his jeans. His spiked-back head feathers were sagging now, and a black eye beginning to take shape. Fox's kicks also caused a small chip in his beak. He knew it would heal itself in time, but it had been a long while since someone was able to damage him in such a manner. While his breathing was more ragged than Fox's, it was still controllable.

Both fighters were ready to bring an end to the bout. Without missing a beat, Falco stepped forward and brought his wings above his head with a furious cry. Fox was unsure what his opponent was going for and crouched down, driving his back foot into the mats. In a flash, he suddenly hopped into the air with explosive force, throwing in a quick spin to bring his back foot forward for an arcing heel kick.

Falco barely noticed that the attack was in fact an attack, and brought both arms down as fast as he could. As soon as he felt Fox's heel drive into his forehead, he felt both of his fists drive into his opponent's shoulder blades, sending both of them crumpling to the mat.

Silence filled the dojang air for a few seconds before the sounds of moaning and groaning replaced it. Falco cradled his throbbing head with both stinging hands, feeling his brain pulsate against the burning flesh and bone. It was as if Fox's heel had dented his skull, and it probably had. Fox was in no better condition, as he lay face down on the mats, whimpering and panting. He could barely move his arms above their limp state, as Falco's fists sent searing pain to his brain any time he tried. The two did not need to say anything else, they both knew that the other was unable to continue.

Falco panted, staring up at the ceiling as Fox lay in a crumpled heap next to him. The two said nothing for a good minute, opting to catch their breath and lick their wounds. Eventually, Falco sat up with a groan, holding his head as he did so. "Damn, McCloud," he winced. "You kick like a... shit, I can't even think of somethin' to compare it to. Hard. You kick hard."

Fox gave the avian a thumbs-up before sitting up himself. As he crossed his legs under his body, he let out a long sigh. "That kick has won me more competitions than I can count..." As he tried to raise his arms again, he let out a short yip of pain. That was out of the question, as he simply let them dangle by his side. "What was that move," he asked, looking in Falco's direction.

Falco simply shrugged. "I dunno. I saw you comin' at me and swung. I was aimin' for your head, but I guess I still hit my mark." Fox raised a brow before shaking his head with a slight smirk. It was Falco's turn to growl in pain, gnashing his beak as he held his forehead. "Well, what the hell was that kick? Swear I can feel my brain leakin' outta my skull here."

Pride beamed from Fox's bloodied muzzle as he sat up straight, almost looking down at Falco's hunched back seating position. "It's a sneaky axe kick I've practiced. My opponent doesn't see it coming until it's too late. Although..." Fox looked down at his foot and winced. He could see the bruising on the heel start to flare up, the flesh turning a subtle plum purple. "...I don't think I've ever kicked anyone that hard or without them wearing headgear. Come to think of it, I probably should have asked you to wear some. Sorry about that..."

Falco scoffed. "You mean one of those foam helmets? Yeah, I'm good. You already had me take my boots an' socks off, no chance I was gonna wear some stupid helmet meant for-" As if the world was punishing him for ignoring proper safety precautions and his crude language, another splitting throb cut through his skull, making him wince in pain. "...you get the picture."

There was a short lull in the conversation before Fox let a chuckle slip past his lips. It caught Falco's attention, prompting him to turn toward the chipped smile Fox was giving him. "Well," Fox began. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

Falco cocked a brow, wincing slightly as he looked at his former opponent. "What do you mean?"

"Doesn't it feel good to get into a fight and not be in trouble?"

There was a pause before Falco began to laugh. He shook his head as he closed his eyes and threw his head back to the ceiling. "Man, Rico was right. You are a boy scout. Don't tell me this is some sorta therapy session."

Fox shrugged. "I figured you needed this. That guy said you were about to get kicked out. So now you had your match and you're not in trouble. That has to count for something."

"So, what? You want me to say thanks, realize you were right, and give you a hug?"

"I just don't want to see all your potential go to waste. Would hate for someone with your skills wash out."

"Don't pity me."

"It's not pity. It's the truth. Look, if you ever need to blow off some more steam after school, I'll be here. We can have another match, although we should probably go a bit softer next time, huh?"

The smile spreading across Fox's face gave Falco time to pause and think. There was sincerity in his voice, and Falco could use a friend who was almost as good as he was. "So," Falco began, his own smirk spreading across his beak. "Looks like I gotta kick your ass here and in the sims now? Alright, but I'm not wearing those goofy pajamas ever."

"You sure?" Fox asked, looking around his dobok. "It's pretty comfy, and I think it looks cool!"

"It makes you look like a dork, McCloud!"

"Well, this dork just kicked your head in!"

Falco let a small chuckle pass his beak as he looked over Fox again. He seemed like a cool guy, even if he was a complete dork with equally dorky friends. He could fight, and he was pretty skilled behind the sims. Falco thought back to the headmaster's words earlier in the day. This McCloud guy seemed pretty competent. Who knows, he might make a good teammate one day...