Survival Of The Fittest

Damien blushes a bit from his last spontaneous comment, turning to look away from the kid next to him.

And who should come into his field of vision than the girl that he had found himself hoping he'd never see again. The mere sight of the girl is enough to jolt him in the opposite direction, causing him to lean over his backpack (and probably into the other boy's face!)

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Again.

"K-Kristey!" he says, gulping. "W...what are you doing here!?" Damien's thoughts are now severely convoluted, to name a word off the top of his head. On the one hand we have a kid who - according to Damien - seems quite likely to report Reneé's clique to the authorities, causing them to return with a vengeance, and on the other there's a girl who is already directly responsible for her gang attacking with extreme prejudice some time in the near future.

The shock of the matter very nearly causes Damien to faint, already compounded with the thoughts and other audible machinations of his mind. He slumps back on his backpack, staring at the ceiling.

Oh God...what a day...

(OOC @ Mitsuko2: Checking to see if you're still participating in this thread?  :unsure: )

Kristey wasn't surprised at his reaction to her. She simply kept her face to her book, and eventually went to pat him on the shoulder.

"I decided to stay at school, I could go to Hobbsborough some other time."

She flipped a page.

The hand of certain death lands softly on his shoulder. Well, at least death would be a welcome release. The process started with paralysis, meaning Damien tensing up while finally getting more than a brief look at the chick that had rescued him from Reneé Valenti just moments earlier. He had never expect death to look so pretty.

"I...I...was just getting to my class..." What an excuse. Truth be told it wasn't a lie, but he didn't want to stick around to find out what she would have in store for him. And didn't Reneé mention something about a taxi coming to pick her up? That and Ms. Garrick probably didn't forget about her appointment with the headmaster if she had lingered. Thoughts that gave Damien hopes, false as some of them could. "...I'm late for an exam..."

Kristey knew he had good reason to be afraid of him.
Why she was so nice to him, she didn't know, maybe she just thought he was pretty, or maybe she just hated seeing how they picked on someone so vulnerable.

"Well, then you need to get to your exam, then."
SHe looked around.
"I think I'll just meander around."

"Yeah...uh...sure..." Damien stammers...

It also completely baffled him as to why Kristey took such a particular interest in him. As far as he knew, he was showing the exact same fear of Kristey as Mulder had earlier today. This would obviously mean that torture of some viciously painful kind was nigh. And then there was this kid beside him. This kid said he was going to hang out at the beach. That he was skipping school and his academics was completely beside the point.

What if Reneé was there filming Lady Valentine? What if she'd arranged to meet this kid there? What if Kristey knew? He'd told that other kid about Reneé, but Kristey didn't know... but she'd find out somehow...wouldn't she? There were more questions in his head than were surrounding America's latest foray into foreign territory in her War on Terror.

You haven't got it yet, do you? They're both...

"SHUT UP!" he screams, in his panicked frenzy.

(Forgive my absence)

Kristey walked along the halls of Gilroy.
THe students and teachers passed by her, her not taking any really notice to her, as she was still fixated on her book, Suicide Circle.

(no, that won't imply anything)

She eventually made it to her locker, where she stood.
Waiting.

For Marvin.

"Damien!" calls the concerned voice of his history teacher, poking his head out into the hallway in the boy's direction. He had already grown suspicious when his star pupil did not arrive at class in time, even more so when he heard the boy's pained cries in the hallway. Cries which elicited hidden snickers and suppressed giggles from his history classmates. A few others were actually nervous, particularly the ones in the immediate vicinity of his empty seat, for they needed someone to copy the answers to the quiz off of.

They were the most diligent copiers, to be sure, given that the history teacher was not so much a "who did what to whom, when where and how," than a "why" type often found in colleges. This was a créme-de-la-créme school, no doubt.

"Damien, get in here, I won't give you too much extra time after class." the teacher calls again.

The words of his history teacher, it seems, are enough to snap this strange child back into reality. He looked around quickly, to see if anybody had notice his tirade other than that weird kid that had also been crying. Kristey had disappeared on him, a welcome reprieve, if only temporary.

"Come on, the class just isn't the same without you." the teacher says with a fixed smile.

Damien gulped and stood up for a few seconds to compose himself. At least this was one of those teachers that actually kept an eye on his students, even if he did tend to start his little vicious cycle sometimes. He picked up his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder, and walked into the classroom to take his test on the Civil War. The papers were already on his desk as his teacher ushered him in, like a hot meal waiting for the latest arrival at a homeless shelter. Damien could already see his seat neighbors breathing sighs of relief, while the others were focusing - or trying to focus - on their own papers.

Damien shuddered as he sat down, briefly pondering what that kid he'd just left to his misery was already cooking up.

He'd have to leave that for later. If there would be one.

Just shut up and finish that test. You'll have time to worry when it's done...

((Damien Carter-Madison continued in: A View to a Kill))

-o0o-

Marvin was on his way back to class, too. Only he was doing so with his backup Prince racket in covering in hand. No way was he going to waste a good racket on such a pitiful specimen, no matter how much Damien deserved it. Of course, he figured Damien was in class already, and he knew from his sources exactly which class and room it was. He just wanted to be ready when he came out. And Marvin had already planned to rush the test so he could gain those few extra moments to prepare.

Reneé's gonna be so proud of me...

His thoughts were very rudely and shockingly interrupted by the sight of a very familiar blonde, blue-eyed bombshell waiting by a locker, reading a book. From his point of view she wasn't looking at him directly, but if she did... well...he wouldn't be able to summon much in the way of backup.

Thankfully, the restroom doors were right beside him. Without thinking he quickly ducked into the men's room, hoping that she didn't notice. Besides, she wouldn't want to stroll into the men's restroom...right? Right!?

He's here. He's hiding. And is wondering if I will follow.
Kristey gives a faint smirk as she puts the bookmark in her book, and places the book inside of her backpack.

She walked towards the door of the Men's room, and knocked.
"Marvin, if you think hiding in there will help any, you're wrong.
I will give you ONE MINUTE to come outside, otherwise I will go in myself, and drag you out where you can be humiliated in front of your peers."

She took out her phone, which had a timer function.
"Your minute starts now."

Okay, this definitely seemed like a chick that would stroll into the men's room and dish out some third-degree burning humiliation. Marvin Hendrick splashed some water onto his face and stared into the sink mirror, trying to come up with some semblance of a plan. He shook his head and grasped the handle of the Prince racket, tossing these plans in his mind. He only had a minute to think.

Just go out there, act unsuspecting. If she attacks you, she'll be the culprit. You were just heading back to class, and you just happened to have your racket with you. Heck, they'll even buy the self-defense bit.

Marvin composed himself and took a deep breath, before making his way to the door and opening it. "'Scuse me, miss." he says non-chalantly, as if he didn't know her, hoping he can get by mostly unscathed. He's not wielding his racket in a position to launch an attack.

"No-no-no-no-no-no-no, you man, you're coming with me."
Kristey proceeded to grab Marvin by the ear, and start dragging him along to a more remote part of the school.
"WE... need to talk."

Marvin winces and flinches as Kristey suddenly grabs his ear. If he didn't do anything, this would definitely be the tip of an iceberg of pain. She barely manages to drag him a few centimeters before out of reflex, he swats Kristey's hand away from the grasp. He doesn't do this with enough force to register as an attack, more just to register his visible irritation. Contrary to its appearance he does have his Prince racket at the ready.

"Sorry, miss, but I really need to get back to class." he says with a smirk.

Some remote region of his brain was silently mocking her, if she attacked him he could fight back in legitimate self-defense, though he'd have to find some way to justify using an old tennis racket as a weapon.

(OOC: oh, NO HE DID NOT!)

Kristey managed to get in front of Marvin before he could actually walk on.
"A punk like you thinks he owns the school, and he's worried about being late to class. Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast? We need to talk. You, with me, now."

"Late for class? I just excused myself from class because I forgot something for my next class," he replies smugly, holding the tennis racket up just for show. He's currently doing a good job at hiding his fear; his earlier anger must've given him a much-needed boost in courage. But it's slowly starting to slip away especially when the blonde steps in front of her. "If you really want to talk about how I "own" the school," and he says "own" with quote bunnies, "why don't you just ask any other student. I'm sure they'd be able to give you a believable answer."

He tries to slip around Kristey. "If you will please excuse me, miss, I have a test to finish."

"Does that mouth of yours ever stop moving?"
She started moving in the opposite direction of Marvin,
giving him this glare, unintentionally.
"Let's get one thing perfectly clear.
We're going to have a chat sometime soon, whether you want to or not."

She walked away again.
"Even if I have to kill everyone in this school to make it happen," she muttered aloud.

Marvin clutches his racket close to him, not so much as it's him that's threatened but his racket. And thus his legs or maybe his well-conditioned serving arm. His life came second to his career and conditioning. This chat she was talking about was threatening to both.

His grip on the racket tightens as she starts walking away, as a disturbing thought comes to mind. This chick is doing this for Damien. If she even lays a finger on me, she's going to pay. No. HE'S going to pay. He savoured the thought as he started walking back to class, though this intermingled with the fear that she would inflict more grievous bodily harm to him than he could possibly imagine for his Dame.

((Continued Elsewhere))