[IC] Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

[Professor_Wyvern]

Sun Ridge Boarding Institution, 12:00 PM.

Official Start of Winter Break.

Outside the South Entrance

The Winter season had arrived once more to the Sun Ridge Boarding Institution. Of course, looking at the surroundings it certainly didn't feel like a typical winter. The weather was warm, and there was not a single cloud in the sky. The golden rays of the glorious sunshine glimmered through the bright blue sky. Some nearby sand that stood against the glistening white stone pathway of the South Entrance held a few lizards that were slowly retreating to the shadows, out of sight from the eyes of the larger creatures that would surely wish to devour them.

As it was Winter Break, the Cliques would not need to waste their time on tedious classwork. Their valuable time could now be devoted to what truly mattered; after all during the breaks was when the War always truly sparked up. And more importantly, this would serve as a period of time when they could engage in more Power Plays and bring great fortune to their respective cliques. A breeze went by and whipped some sand across, alongside a stray tumbleweed. Some would say that this particular event in the scenery of the school would represent the lull before the great shoot-outs to come, while others -particularily the Nerds-, would claim that it was simply put a meteorological effect that occurred due to the rules of nature. However, what mattered about this particular scene was the fact that it meant their was a wind providing a decent breeze.

Of course, old and new blood would be fueling the rising Clique War. Yes, some new blood would arrive this day. The Sun Ridge Boarding Institution engaged in a predictable practice; during the first Winter and Summer breaks, they would bring new students by bus to get them settled and used to the surroundings. No one was sure why they did this, though many have said it was due to being paid extra for moving them to the 'Neutral Dorms'. However as countless janitors and Prefects will admit to, the Neutral Dorms get, well simply put in a euphemism, messy. And thus, the students quickly search for a Clique to join, or are drafted into a Clique and taken to a relative safety there. Of course, some stay in those 'Neutral Dorms' but as mentioned before, they do get messy.

And there was another strange practice that Administration engaged in during this period of time. Many teachers and staff decided to leave and take their vacation during this time-frame. After all, they didn't particularly care or want to be around the students at their rowdiest. This of course was no skin off the Cliques bones, and they did appreciate the lowered guard from the Administration.

Approaching the South Gateway, a rather thick section of iron with the school's motto gleaming above its archway, was the school bus. It was hovering ever so slightly above the ground with a red glow underneath. Notably it was a triple deckered bus, which helped for transporting the larger of the fresh batch of students. The driver of the bus, was a slightly amusing individual, if only for the fact that he was a transluscent ghost that was managing to physically drive the bus. As the bus got close towards the gate, the driver slowly parked it in front of the gate which began creaking open.

Waiting for the fresher students was one of the Prefects, the students who betrayed the way of the Clique for the sweet devil's bargain of the Administration.

The current Prefect stood in the middle of the white stone path that was attached to the gate. behind him, in the close but distant distance was the Administration Building. The Prefect stood at about 5'6", and wore a light blue suit. The most notable feature about him was the fact that he had large cream color ram-horns that were on the sides of his head, and that his head had rather large wooly puffs of black fur that functioned as essentially hair.

The boy idly stared annoyed that he was assigned to have to give the spiel to the new meat. He pulled out a single biscuit stick that he kept in his coat-pocket and munched on it. But of course, while mundane, it was an easy job rather than having to deal with those actually experienced with the institution.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Cafeteria

As for many of the students who've been here, many were out and about for planning. Though, due to the time of day many of the various students were in the cafeteria. Illuminated by the fluorescent lighting, here was one of the few neutral zones, that weren't immediately turned into a vicious Hellscape where few could manage to survive. This was due to the Prefects who were stationed here, and the fact the Administration held an actual interest in keeping this area safe. No one knew for sure why they preferred to keep the cafeteria safe, when they actively allowed the 'neutral dormitories' to be a horrific war-zone. Some say it was due to a mighty treasure that the Administration kept secret. Others say that held a tactical position to the Administration, in regards to the building it was hosted in. Others say that it was due to the constant and ever present 'Cafeteria Skirmishes'. Even with the Prefects guarding it, the Cafeteria did find itself the host of very dangerous battles. Many still speak in awe and hushed whispers over the 'Foodfight of Two Fridays Ago'. And even still, others had no idea why nor did they care for an explanation.

Off to the upper right corner was the territory claimed by the Preppies. It had the best spot for air conditioning and was rather close to the cafeteria line. Which of course didn't matter to them, as they always had a few artisan chefs on hand to prepare them meals. Of course the little people could not see them as their section was cut off by an installed Egyptian cotton curtain. Outside the curtain was a select staff of butlers just eying the miscreants, to make sure only those worthy would try getting in.

In the upper left corner was the territory claimed by the Entertainers. From this section came much laughter and merriment, as they were practicing out their materials. An Orcish member was busy sticking a spoon on her nose and a fork in her ear. Another was busy practicing juggling with a salt and pepper shaker, and an empty bowl. The festivities continued, as a Prefect eyed down upon them with his red compound eyes.

The lower left corner was being occupied by the Punks. Many of whom had their feet kicked up on the table and were just glaring at random things. One of the punks at the table was busy with some hair gel to maintain appearances. Others were continuing to mark the tables with the cafeteria knives and sharpies. After all they needed to continue to tag their territory.

The lower right corner was being occupied by the Nerds. Across the cafeteria benches was a collection of books set up to cover sheets. Around these sections the sound of dice clanking against the table was heard. While other nerds were busy reading various comicbooks. While others were scrawling notes on various papers.

In the middle were the Bullies and the Jocks. The Jocks were on the right side, while the Bullies were on the left. Both sides were keeping a close eye on the other. After all, they couldn't let their guard down, not even in the neutral sanctity of the Cafeteria. On the side of the Bullies, a behemoth of a troll covered in moss was watching over the Jocks. The Jocks meanwhile had a minotaur dressed in a white track-suit watching over the Bullies.

The day was still young, and was going to be teeming with adventure and excitement. Who knew what events were going to unfold this day?

[Rick Sanchez]

When she'd been a really little kid, Mrs. Summers told her that she'd been borne on the back of the Sandman before they had her, that she was made of dreams and drivel, and that the reason why she slept so much was because she still had the urge to return to the place where she'd been born, where nothing made sense--

It was a line of bull, of course, but it had helped her accept her sleepy, cat-like existence as something unique and beautiful, rather than the reason why she didn't have any friends.

Summers was on a vaguely cartoonish pirate ship in the middle of a technicolor sea, the horizon unobstructed by neither land nor vessel, and the dark, cobalt sky filled with star clusters so close that it was hard to tell where heaven met water. The sea itself was teeming with life, squids and fish glowing faintly bright and smiling at her with big, slapstick grins. Also, The Monkees were playing from an unknown source. So if she had to guess--she was either asleep or very, very high.

Now aware that she was dreaming, Summers steered her own course, using the star charts on the belly of a whale who kindly turned for her as a map, and arrived at an island filled with cats and supermodels and--and was that a tiki bar? Oh hell yes. Before she could ditch the Black Pearl, however, someone elbowed her in the side.

---

In the real world, she'd been asleep for all of twenty minutes.

Snrrrrrrkk--kh-....snnrrrrrrrrk--

The snoring was obscenely loud.

She was face-first in an uneaten hamburger bun which had long since over-saturated, and now the drool was overflowing the tray and creeping towards one of her fellow punk's sharpie work. The girl--who looked something like a lizard mixed with a nightjar--could deal with the snoring, but Summers' copious amounts of saliva was smearing the ink and enough was enough.

Summers groaned and turned her head to crack an eye--well, what appeared to be the moon inside an eye socket before blurring to the characteristic crackle of interference--at the offending elbow, half her face still in her mushy bread. She pulled herself from her tray and wiped the dough off her cheek, before sending a dirty look towards the lizjard punk, mutely vowing to do it again in thicker quantities of drool whenever she got the chance. Then she stared at the remaining fishbowel's worth of fluid on her table.

She shrugged off her sweater and tugged the bottom of her wifebeater down before wiping the table half-assedly with the former, and promptly smacked her face back onto the fake wood surface.

In about ten seconds she'd be out like a light.

[Lord Santa]

As a general unspoken rule, most of the nerds were extremely stereotypical. Role playing games, comic books, tv shows, video games, these were all 'nerdy' things. Coupled with bad fashion sense and general bad looks, along with low physical prowess, it wasn't difficult to see why the Nerds were mainly marginalised. They certainly had a distinctive 'look', and they had a well-known reputation, but they weren't exactly 'great'. Furthermore, most were socially awkward, many had little regard to personal hygiene and their obesity rates were the highest in the school.

To say Nikolai didn't fit in with the nerds was an understatement. For starters, social awkwardness tended to make most nerds either put quantity of speech over quality or not say much at all. It would be lucky for them to communicate their point in a crowd while riled up. Nikolai spoke extremely little, and one could be forgiven for thinking he might be in the latter category. However, he's really just blunt, and he valued efficient speech over flowery words. He got his point across as fast as he could. Furthermore, while most nerds tended to band together, he willingly stood alone, away from the crowd. In contrast to the Nerd's timid and cowardly behaviour, Nikolai could become pretty much immovable should he want something. And while many nerds dressed like they ran full pelt into a merchandise typhoon, Nikolai dressed in the best clothes he had.

Nikolai's wore a suit as he sat in the cafeteria. Book in hand, his black-rimmed hipster glasses perched on his nose, food left unattended on the table. His suit was a sort of parting gift from his adoptive parents. He'd first worn one when he was introduced to them, and they'd brought him one when he was moving out. It was a black affair, with a black tie, blazer and pants. Nikolai polished his dress shoes every now and again, and he'd done so the night before. They shone a little as he shifted his legs under the table, one crossed over the other, to a slightly more comfortable position. His shoes were black, of course. He had to polish it a little more often recently, as they were getting scuffed more easily. Contrasting his black suit was a white dress shirt, its long sleeves almost as long as the blazer's. Every time he turned a page, he saw a glimpse of the white fabric. His attire was well suited for his features. White hair and black eyes contrasted with black suit and white shirt.

Truth be told, the suit he was wearing wasn't exactly a parting gift. His adoptive parents mustn't hate him as much as he thought, because they sent him a resized version for Christmas last year. He had a spare now, though it was a little small. Perhaps he'd ask them to adjust it. He was attached to it, as attached to it as he could be attached to anything, which wasn't really much.

Nevertheless, he was quite out of place in the Nerd tables of the Cafeteria. Most of the Nerds talked or played games, but the defining characteristic of theirs was that they weren't usually alone. Because of their apparent physical weakness, they were often picked on, and they usually resorted to strength in numbers, or sucking up to the preppies. As it stood, Nikolai sat alone.

He didn't mind that, of course. There was something he did mind, of course, and that was the fact that he was in the cafeteria. Nikolai looked up from his book to his food. As soon as he did, nearby conversations filtered into his ears and the volume of the room caught up with him again. Taking his fork, he quickly shovelled another fork full of pasta into his mouth before putting it down and refocusing on his book. The sound was eventually filtered out as Nikolai returned to his book. It was a non-fiction book, one about human anatomy. It was relatively interesting, but he'd lost his spot and was quite annoyed by it.

See, the problem was that the cafeteria was noisy, and it took all of his concentration to drown out the noise. While no one usually distracted him, one lapse in concentration would cause the noise to come in again. And he hated noise, because it pointless to listen to. It caused him to lose track of his progress on many occasions, and once that happened, he found it difficult to concentrate. Once it was broken, it was difficult to get back.

Nikolai found that he couldn't really focus, as the he noticed the noise and he noticed he was still slightly hungry. It was clear that any further attempts to read would be rebuffed. Nikolai closed his book and removed his glasses, placing them close to hand on the table. Then, he picked up the fork and began to eat his pasta, stopping for nothing. Every forkful quickly cleaned out the bowl, and he was soon done. He judged he was full enough now, and drank the cup of water next to his bowl. Wiping his mouth, he picked up his glasses and his book and started again. This time, the noise filtered out completely as he became totally absorbed in his book.

In the relative chaos of the cafeteria, Nikolai sat resolutely. Most talked amongst themselves while others eyeballed the other cliques. Small conflicts were raised and settled. But even the Entertainers' attention seeking would be background noise for most, while many found Nikolai to be very strange. While entertainers gained attention because of their actions, he got attention because of his lack of action. He stood out like a sore thumb even outside the cafeteria. He looked like he belonged more to administration or the preppies, but he sat at the nerd table. He didn't talk, he never looked at anyone.

Some nerds didn't talk or look at anyone, but that was usually due to a mix of fear and social awkwardness. Nikolai didn't talk to anyone simply because he had nothing to say to anyone. No one talked to him either, through a mix of his reputation and his cold atmosphere. He was quiet, almost aloof. He stood out like a sore thumb as he sat still and read his book, and many people, nerds or not, knew not to bother him.

[Camerch]

"See, here's the thing, though. It's been three weeks now and those mooks still haven't figured out how I keep getting in!" A chorus of laughter arose from Entertainer's table as Artemis describes the neon mess that was the Bully's turf.

Artemis reveled in the energy of the Entertainer's table. They had a way of laughing that fed into each others energies. They were a loud bunch, always unafraid to express themselves and trash talk the other cliques, even if they were literally a hop, skip and a jump away. Or perhaps because of their presence that the Entertainers laughed all the louder, to see faces turn red and dare them to even think of starting something in front of the prefects. They'll catch hell for it later, but right now, it's all bread and circuses. Speaking of which...

Artemis took his half-eaten bread, dunked it into his soup and bit into it. All that laughing and talking had left the soup lukewarm, but hey. Tomato soup's tomato soup. It's no home cooking, but he had learned to not be picky when it comes to food. 'sides, now that it's cooler, the soup doesn't taste like someone dumped a bunch of sour candies into the pot.

He took a look around the room at his 'fellow' students. The tension between the Bullies and the Jocks is so high their table looked like was about to break under the stress. It's so tempting to bean one of them with something, release all that built up tension and make the war happen right here right now. Of course, that's a suicidal idea; Artemis would never seriously think about doing such a thing, but maybe when they're all let out of the cafeteria, he could find some other way to raise the tension even further. Y'know, to see how far it'll go.

Meanwhile, his attention was taken by the Preps' table. That curtain of theirs is just asking for a good tagging. It's like a white canvas, waiting for someone to throw some paint onto it. He'd have to do it while nobody was looking, which is risky as the cafeteria has Prefects somewhere nearby at all times, though if the curtain got taken down, he could steal it and tag it somewhere quiet...

Ooh, there's an idea.

[Professor_Wyvern]

The Cafeteria - Punk Section

It happened again, Tixhol once more had to deal with that girl who always had a poor signal, who always just seemed to ruin tags she wanted to do on the cafeteria table. Despite her initial elbowing, the girl returned to going back to a slumbering state with the mouth agape. It was important that she continued to tag the territory of the Punks even in these neutral grounds. The swirling of red and black sharpies to construct drawn skulls always brought amusement to her; however they were being destroyed due to the constant drooling by Summers. The reptilian hissed out annoyed as a bright blue tongue came out of an oddly scaled beak.

"Ssssstatic." She grumbled out to Summers, as her vertical pupil slit widened as she glared at the girl. All the while she clenched her sharpies which rustled around some blackened feathers that were close to her bright white claws. However, as the girl was drooling, they served little purpose to her now. And so, as she didn't have a proper canvas to tag she shoved the sharpies in the right pocket of her sleeveless denim jacket. Well, the situation did provide at least one boon. She could now go on and finish the morsels she was saving. The reptilian girl reached over to a shoddy plastic bowl that was on-top of her lunch-tray and pulled out a deceased larva and flicked it into her beak. Quickly Tixhol leaned her head upwards as she consumed the larva. It was at this point another Punk strolled right in front of the table.

"Eeyyy Chica." spoke the man as he flicked out a slightly forked tongue. His brass colored eyes glimmered, as he tapped his finger against the table. The boy looked primarily humanoid, except for the brass colored eyes and the forked tongue. The man himself was dressed in an unzipped grey hoodie with a white t-shirt that had a logo of a coffin on it. In the suavest accent he could muster, the boy leaned on the table as he stared into the heavily annoyed eyes of Tixhol. "I didn't know that angels could fly so low." He began nodding, knowing that he was going to seal the deal.

He did not seal the deal. Tixhol face-palmed with her left hand and stared at him still annoyed. "Ugh, Charro do you know how many times you said that exact line to me? Aren't your pals expecting you? You better hurry up and get away from bothering me." Charro began rolling his shoulders around as he smirked at Tixhol. "Si mi amigos, probably. But they know, I am in it for las chicas!" He once more gave an eager smile to the girl, "Saaay you see Lacey 'round?" However, Charro's attention was taken by Summers. The boy had failed in getting Tixhol, but he swore he would not fail in attracting her.

Charro glanced towards a man who was sitting near and across from Summers. "Ey, muchacho, scoot a bit woulda por favor?" The bulbous headed grey skinned creature, with sunken cheeks did so. "Don't think you're gonna get it." Said the creature with a smirk, Charro licked his right hand as he brushed it through his short dirty brown hair. Sitting down at the table, Charro knocked down on the table. "Eeyyy mama." He spoke towards Summers with a smile as he scrounged his mind for lines he hadn't used copious times already. "Dayuuum, if being sexy was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged!" This line hopefully wouldn't fail him this time.
--------

The Cafeteria - Bully Section
"As the Great One says..." was spoken in a strange tone of harshness and an attempt to be scholarly. "Panic is your greatest ally, whether it is in others or yourself." Sitting on a booster seat on the cafeteria was a dark green goblin whose lower fangs protruded in a heavily noticeable under bite. His dull red eyes focused on his peers who sat around him. With a putrid yellow claw he scratched at his pointed and scarred nose. "Yes, panic is required to fully drive them to suffering. The panic in others drives them to rash decisions and will drive them to do whatever their captor takes. In the hands of a devoted follower of Erythnul, the Great One, it is used to cause a frantic assault upon those that oppose." The goblin scratched at his metal chain necklace that was constructed from stolen bike chains that were collected as tribute, that he got to keep and didn't need to pass up to the hierarchy.

"Mmm." The goblin pursed his lips together as he gazed upon the various bullies surrounding him, "What do you think of this knowledge?" One of the bullies, a rather feral looking girl dressed in a series of hides glared at the boy. "Klag..." She leaned over and frantically began sniffing. The girl drooled a bit before glaring at him, "You think too much. Tribute needs no thought, only action." With that she slammed down a tendril that functioned as an appendage of the left side of her torso. "Tolls need to be." Snarling the girl glanced around, "I've tracked down prey, weak musk, always carry things." The goblinoid Klag glanced at the girl, "Leech?" The feral Leech glanced around at her peers as she dragged her tendril off the table. "...Time. Take time, but target easy with tribute."

It appeared that the girl was unable to articulate exactly who or what, but she had some prey in mind. Klag grumbled out as he plucked at his necklace once more. "Hnm, well if you are unable to speak of your target, I can tell you that I am going to take down a few Nerds for tribute. If any of you have not selected a target, I am willing to provide shares of it, before of course sending what must be sent." With that the goblin extended the offer of teaming up to beat the crap out of others. Klag himself always had more fun beating the shit out of targets when he had an accomplice alongside him. "However, there is another issue I must deal with. A more pressing issue concerning heretic filth." Klag snarled out, recalling those gaudy colors that tainted an entranceway of the Bullies' realm. Klag's eyes narrowed, "This I request a kinsmate to help me find the perpetrator and put them in their place."

Meanwhile another proud Bully held out a rabbit that was squirming. Dark yellow eyes peered at the rabbit which was flailing from side to side, and attempting to kick its way out of the grip of the one who had it. "Heheheh..." laughed out a boy with a light grey complexion. "Man oh man!" the kid enthusiastically declared, "You shoulda seen the tears of the bitch I stole this from, and I wish I had a camera when I ate her..." He coughed out as he began speaking in a shrill falsetto, "Deary weary Mister Fluffles." Using his free hand the creature slapped down on the table, "In front of her. Cause oh, she was crying so loud, it was amazing. Saved the second one for my snack here." Grinning ear to ear, the boy showed off his serrated teeth. "Yeah, I'm glad I saved this one." The rabbit desperately tried to escape from the clutches of the bully, but it continued to fail in its attempt to survive. Ah truly, this pathetic creature would serve as a fine meal for the monstrous kid.
--------------

The Cafeteria - Nerd Section

A girl was sobbing hysterically as she kept her head buried in her arms, who just so happened to be near that weirdo even among the Nerds, Nikolai. "H-he took Mister F-fluffles and Wibbles!" She pulled her arms further into a blue sweater she was wearing. "Azarazarazarazarazarazar..." The girl began speaking in a highly frantic matter as her head began shaking. Her skin had gone into a white hue, as she continued to mention in fright of the foul kid that took away what she found precious. Another nerd near her, a rail-thin bespectacled man with compound eyes decided to promptly scoot away to the sound of cards being slammed down upon the cafeteria table.

"I sacrifice my Toxic Bubbles-!" A raspy voice declared as a bony hand slowly slid two cards off from the table. Peering from a stack of cards held in between those bony fingers, were the glowing blue eye-sockets of an opponent who knew what he was doing. Or at least he thought he was going to be able to beat his opponent. With a warry gaze, a portly hobgoblin slightly pushed up the glasses from his bulbous nose before lowering them down. "To SUMMON, BELFORP THE DEVOURER!" With a hearty cackle the creature mocked how his opponent had no chance of stopping him. The Hobgoblin slowly reached down and flipped up a card, "Endless Abyss."

The glowing eyes just focused on the card for a moment, shocked that such a thing happened. "Dude! Endless Abyss was banned!" The Hobgoblin shook his head, "No, no you are thinking of Infinite Chasm! That took out the entire field, Endless Abyss just takes out one monster." The creature peered, revealing his sunken face, "No, no, Endless Abyss was banned this season. You got the current edition guide book, look it up." The Hobgoblin snorted as he placed down his cards and pulled out a book that depicted several strange monsters upon it. The Nerds would find out their answer in time.
---------------------------------

Outside the Campus Building

"Huh, shit he was right." Spoke a rather casual voice that started stepping towards a curled up student against the wall. "Rock Elementals do take a good beating." The student in the fetal position was in fact, forged from rock and had a few new cracks to the forehead. The perpetrator, was a creature covered in countless white spindles, so much so that all that was truly visible was a pair of black beady eyes from a region that could be considered its head.

"Anyhow, let's see..." The spindly monster paused as it pondered what to do, "Let's just see how much damage I can do before oh, Idunno I'll come up with a time limit later." And so the creature tromped closer to the pitiful Rockman.
---------------------------------------------------

The Cafeteria - Entertainer's Section

One of the Entertainers sitting next to Artemis, a Halfling with light blue eyes and a bit of brown scruff on his chin gave an enthusiastic grin to Artemis. "Man, I'd love to see their faces right now!" Another student quickly slapped the Halfling's back. "Yeah oh, I get ya Tim. But me, I'd just like to laugh from here. Not in the mood for another swirly." Spoke the peer, a much lankier student of Elven descent. His golden locks were notably drenched. The elf took a moment to grab and twist at his hair. Some water dripped onto the floor.

Staring at his associate, Tim raised an eyebrow. "Jimminy Crickets! D'ya know who did it?" The Elf grimaced and shivered at the thought. "Yeah, you know Cyrios?" Tim's complexion became notably pale. "The Centaur?" Upon hearing this the Elf nodded slowly. "Him." The elf glanced towards Artemis, "Hey you wouldn't have any ideas on how to get him back would ya?"

Tim quickly gave an interjection, "Hey yeah! You gotta have something, I mean we gotta help Kuornos!" The halfling gave a quick glance towards the elf. "At the least we should give him a laugh at Cyrios' expense."
-------------------------------------------

The Cafeteria - Behind the Preppy Curtain

"...And then I bought out that pauper's entire village and destroyed it to build a new apartment complex." Noted a red-haired goblin girl, who was sitting on a gilded litter being held by two constructs forged by diamonds which stood at about five feet. She held out her knife as she was carving into veal that was sizzling with a bit of recent heat. "And then that pauper had the audacity to hire out some so called 'adventurers' to protect their town." She plopped a fork in her meal as she took a bite from it.

Sitting across from her, in a tank gilded with various jewels that was behind held upon the back of an ogre was a fishman relaxing in it. The fishman reached over to grab a golden chalice with his webbed hands. Focusing his bright yellow eyes upon the goblin he spoke. "My my, what a startling discovery that must have been." Opening his mouth, the fishman poured the bright red liquid that was in the goblet down his gullet. "And what happened next?"

Glancing at her associate, the Goblin spoke up. "It was a rather simple matter." The goblin began to explain. With her knife once more lodged in the cutlet, she returned to carving another chunk out. "The leader of the band, being a person who acknowledges business deals, got his minions to leave with him once they heard the proper story."

The Fishman nodded at her, "Hm. Quite the fascinating tale. It is always good to hear the affairs of other gentlemen."

[Rick Sanchez]

The world was blurring, the grainy textures in the table (what wasn't shadowed by her head) melting into an array of fantastic colors--greens and purples and blues. Lots and lots of blues. Her island was coming back into focus, though distant and obscured every two seconds by the navy waves. As her body became lighter and she lost her sense of balance, Summers was rather suddenly swimming; land was growing closer by the second. The current was pulling her in.

Tiki Bar, Ahoy!

"Ssss--"

What.

"Ssssstatic."

"Snrrrrrkkk--murr?"

Summers groaned into the table, a silent 'fuck off' muffled by the laminated fiberboard in her face. She batted weakly at Tixhol--missing, she couldn't see what she was doing--she'd get that girl yet. Damn lizard and her damn sharpies....

Vaguely aware that a conversation was going on around her, she drifted in a dreamy sea of thoughts. Having only eaten bits and pieces of her burger, she was still hungry; she'd like to see if that bar sold anything besides coconut concoctions. This was a dream after all, so maybe she'd be able to imagine herself a pizzeria.

A rapping from elsewhere rattled the shore just as she crawled onto a coast-line boulder, and dreamworld blurred out once more--she had been so close this time! Feeling a little bit murderous, Summers roused slowly and put a hand on the table to steady herself when she sat up.

"Eeeey Mama," She wiped and an eye and yawned, then turned towards the person to blame for her state of consciousness with a withering glare, eyes like a lamprey's mouth.

Charro, all copper and olive tones, had put on the cockiness of a 1970's, pompadoured John Travolta, and was directing that grin towards her. So, flirt mode. Payback could wait, it's better when they're not expecting it anyways--this was a rare opportunity to play. She returned with her own lopsided grin, the rows of teeth in her eyes softening into a Babushka doll of yellow and orange hearts, and winked.

"Well then, coppa', better get the handcuffs."

[Kalimah]

Steven Diggs - Punk Table

"'Ay Charro, stop bein shit, y'all!" was the call-out from behind Bronze Eyes. There stood the mechanic, and probably the scariest mawfugga in the Punk clique. It was Steven Diggs, the Machine Head, the Tank, the Fixer, the Mood Killer, wearing his patriotic red white and blue coveralls, coated in a layer of grease and dust and he had his toolbox with him. "Mawfuggin' crazy static girl be sleepin' own th' job, dawg. AGAIN! Bitch we ain't got taaaahme to fuck around, yo."

Steve dropped his toolbox on the table with an ear-cracking thud. It was not a small nor light piece of kit, and dramatic minds such as those of the ENTERTAINERS! might decide to get bombastic and think it was an earthquake or something. As it stood, though, back in the lack of reality, heads merely turned as Steven Diggs marked his territory before sitting down. While he was no leader or anything, he was something of the muscle for the gang, and anyone who wanted to get to the Punk leaders had to get through him.

"'Ay Static," he drawled, referring to the drooling sleepyhead by the mocking name everyone had picked up for her. "Where th'FUCK is fuckin' Loose Lacey? Bitch better be here like, fuckin' ten minutes ago dawg. An' ay! Put on th' NASCAR! Ah wanna see how mah Danica be doin', yo." Many a girl had attempted to get into the pants of the Punk enforcer, but all had failed for some reason or another. Maybe it was the hostility. Maybe it was the way he kept suggesting they needed to use four shotgun pellets, some whiskey and a rubber hand to treat their crabs. Maybe it was the gigantic poster of Danica Patrick on the wall of his room. Who knew?

[Scrapula]

The Noosphere. Massive yet massless, stationary yet constantly roiling and shifting, utterly uncaring yet filled with passion. The sum total of humanity's thoughts, feelings, and culture, the Noosphere surrounds the Earth, embracing and smothering it like a caring mother. Where the atmosphere consists of simple atoms, the Noosphere is built from human emotions- happiness, fear, greed, curiosity. Mysterious and uncompromising, the Noosphere represents the endgoal of human mystery. How does it affect us? What is it doing? How was it formed? Important questions that may never find answers. With only one being on Earth capable of interacting with or even observing the Noosphere, it stands tall, a looming mystery wrapped in an enigma.

Currently, the Noosphere was broadcasting peppy, brainless music directly into the track field of Sun Ridge Boarding Institute. That area just so happened to be exactly where Rafaelo Siegfried and a pair of his fellow students were situated. Somehow, a miniature studio stage had formed up between the three people-- Siegfried with his back to a massive screen, and the other two students at podiums. Despite not having a power source, the screen behind Siegfried was brightly lit and displaying a simple two-word phrase. A title.

"QUIZ TIME!"

[Kaalee]

Scarlet was only half listening to what the goblin girl was saying. Honestly, why did it matter anyways? When did the mortal realm become so...petty? Of course Scarlet's only interaction with humans was seducing them to their death but what can she say? A girl's gotta eat.

Instead Scarlet was watching the other groups out of a gap in the curtain. Eventually she got bored and stood up, walking out of their area. She was walking over to the punks area but she was stopped on the way here, by someone from the bully's clique grabbing her wrist. He was obviously slow and she was pretty, but she didn't want to put up with the games today.

“Let go of my wrist.” Scarlet said, in slow tones so he'd understand. He just looked up at her and she exhaled slowly before looking directly in his eye.

“Let go of my wrist.” She repeated but this time the words sounded different, like she was almost singing them. He blinked twice before slowly letting go of her wrist. She glared before continuing on, the sound of her heels clicking against the ground as she slowly approached the Steven Diggs.

She wasn't thrilled that she had to do this, since the greaser was obviously a major dick who thought down on the world and normally that didn't bother her. After all, she knew that in the real world, he'd make up her noon day meal. It's when she needed something from him that was the problem. Who asks their food for help?

If it wasn't her fish tank she'd contract out, test her luck with some second rate repair shop but it was her fish tank and she needed it fixed right. She knew that Steven Diggs can do it right and he could do it fast, if he was willing.

As she stared at Steven, she wondered if she looked like the precious Danica Patricks to him. It might make it easier if she did. Either way, she knew she looked like perfection to him so that should help.

“I need your help, can we talk...somewhere else?” She eyed the rest of the punks, trying not to curl her lip upwards in contempt.

[The Errorist]

Lunch. Such an exciting and energy filled period of time, even if the food was never really good. The problem was that it needed much more sugar on the menu, at least in Julie's opinion. Sugar made everything more exciting, and therefore more things would happen instead of everyone just sitting around and gossiping like the preps or doing something equally mindless as like the bullies. The entertainers table was where it's at. Everyone there was always doing something , and you could count on the sound of laughter to fill the air around them. She just wished others would see it that way too, and stop being so snooty and stuff.

Julie looked up from playing with her yo-yo to scan the room. Everything seemed like it always was, the cafeteria was filled with grumpy looking students doing their boring daily activities. One of the boys at her table made a crack about how the cavemen of the school hadn't been able to figure out how their territory was being tagged. Julie burst out laughing with the others, thinking of the looks of outrage on some of bullies across the room. Looking up, she caught the eye one of said cavemen and winked, bursting into another fit of giggle at how red-faced he looked. They were so easy to rile up.

Tuning back into the conversation, she turned towards the blonde boy who was currently dripping all over. Gosh, he looked as if he'd had been dunked! Wait, that was what happened... Oops. By Cyrios? Gosh, what a jerk. A grinned slid across Julie's face as she looked towards the other two in the discussion.

"Well, whatever it is, count me in! I just love seeing the looks on their faces as the cogs turn and they try to understand whats going on!" She snorted at the thought and slung an arm around the drenched Elven boy, the bubble from her gum popping with a loud snap. "Plus, we gotsta stick up for each other, am I right?"

[Professor_Wyvern]

Cafeteria Floor

"Wut happen?" spoke a rather oafish voice not entirely sure of its surroundings. The creature swore that he just had a mark that would've been easy to exploit for tribute. However that was not on the forefront of his mind at the time, as he found himself day-dreaming of what he would spend his share of the fortune on. It was in that magical day-dreaming daze and the target's voice, that he found himself letting go of the arm. The barrel-framed ogre with its massive limbs, which was peered around nervously, knowing what would happen. After all, he volunteered to go bring back that easy target. But alas, he was unable to secure the target. The Ogre snorted as his eyes began wavering. Snot was beginning to run down his nose and the Ogre found that he failed to do even the simplest of tasks. Again.

"Aww jeez, what's wit da watahwoiks?" Inquired an individual walking up towards the Ogre. It was a diminutive Kobold wearing a simple grey-hoody. He dragged his brown scaled tale across the floor as he grabbed at the Ogre's sweatpants. "YA had 'em Makor!" The Ogre sniffled a bit, "But Sicuro, I-I let them go, instead of pulling them back. I'm no-" Sicuro the Kobold glared at the depressed Ogre. "The important ting is ya got'em. Listen, I got some business with Cyrios. We gonna rough up some guys real soon. Come on, should get you out of the rut." Makros wiped at his nose as he glanced down at Sicuro, "C-can I give 'em purple nurples?"

The Kobold laughed, "Now that's the spirit!" Makros smiled down at Sicuro as he leaned down a bit. Sicuro skittered onto the Ogre and sat upon his shoulders. "Come on pal-o, whole lotta targets to squash! Gonna be a good day." And so, the bully pair began walking out of the cafeteria.

As that was going on, a Prefect watched as a Preppy was, heading to the Punk Section. The normally emotionless face of this Elf Prefect curled into a small smile. As soon as the smile was upon his face, he raised his right hand to cover his mouth. "H..heheh-" His face was contorted as his cheeks rose up, clearly happy about the situation this would bring. Using his left hand he began to adjust an ear-piece, while trying to calm down his attitude.
_______________________________________________________________
Cafeteria - Punk Section

Charro grinned ear to ear as he began to reach towards something in his jean back-pockets. The line worked! It didn't fail him, and now he was ready to perform the finisher. With a flourish of his left hand, he pulled out a pair of cheap toy hand-cuffs. The cheap silver paint was noticeably chipped away, revealing the white plastic frame. Charro slowly licked his lips as he reached over with the cuffs.

"Bail gonna be at t-" And that is when Steven Diggs approached the scene and started to complain. Charro couldn't understand why he had to ruin his good times. He cocked his head back, "Eyyy muchacho, I ain't finished gettin' the chicas!" He enthusiastically declared as he waggled the plastic hand-cuffs. "We got time, 'sides not like we've got any important thing to do now." However, Charro found himself drawn to another situation approaching.

A Preppy, an agent of THE MAN, was wandering far away from their territory. As she approached she earned quite a few glares, followed by quite a few popping knuckles. Charro, being ever the opportunist when it came to the ladies, decided to get up from his seat and get closer to the Preppy. "Eyyy, soooo what y-"

Unfortunately, before he could finish off his attempt to flirt with everything that moved, he received a quick smack to the head by yet another girl who approached. Loose Lacey had finally arrived and was adjusting her torn jeans. Her most notable feature was a rather prominent rack that was stretching out a 'Crime Unadulterated' Band T-shirt. She flicked back some dark red hair from her face as she glared at Charro.

"Idiot!" Lacey hissed out at him. "Do you know what you are looking at?" Charro took a moment to contemplate the lovely lady who appeared to be an olive skinned beauty.

"A hot bitch." Charro said fully confidant in his answer. This earned him another smack to the back of his head and another lecture from Lacey. "No, that's a fucking Siren!" Charro glanced back as he raised his eyebrow, "Naaah, nah, s'cool." He stretched out his arms and held them behind his head.

Lacey grumbled out as she just glanced towards Steve. "...Can you drag Charro out of here before he does something stupid?"
_______________________________________
Cafeteria - The Entertainers Section

Kuornos smiled as Julie wrapped her arm around him. At least he wasn't in the commode when the arm was going around him. Tim smiled ear to ear as he nodded. The Halfling knew this was gonna be good. He began rubbing his hands together as he clapped. "Yeah! We gotta stick up for each other! No one gonna keep down the show!" With a mischievous grin Tim began laughing as he glanced towards the Elf who was still wrapping one of his hands around his locks.

Twisting his hair, Kuoronos continued to try to remove excess water. In the back of his mind he considered that he might need a hair-cut, but he quickly decided to concentrate on getting vengeance on Cyrios. His tormentor would be subjected to a hilarious scheme of revenge! Kuoronos leaned in close as he glanced between Tim and Julie.

"Right, so if I know Cyrios, which I feel I do." He stared upwards, gesturing towards his hair. "He's probably gonna be up to something right now. Which means, we got a bit of time to plan something. And I think I've got an idea." Kuronos grinned as Tim leaned in closer. "So what's your idea?" The Halfling inquired.

"Okay, so there is a particular bathroom stall that Cyrios prefers. Not to shove people in mind you, but one that I think he keeps some stuff he looted." The Elf mused for a moment, "So what I am thinking, is we go and rig that plumbing right?" He began nodding as he shifted gazes between the others. Waiting for a dramatic lull, he eagerly spoke. "And with it, we make it explode right in his face! Like you know the spring cans?! That."

Tim began laughing as some tears began rolling down his face. "Aha! Ooooh, that sounds funny." The Halfling immediately turned to Julie, "You think that's funny enough to work with?" After all, a true Entertainer plot had to be well, entertaining. And Cyrios would be subjected to hilarious shenanigans at his expense, for what he did to Kuoronos.

Of course this discussion earned them the attention of another fellow Entertainer who was walking by with a tray stacked with empty pin-tins. The girl, who was dressed in a series of polka-dotted overalls and a rather orange and green shirt with incredibly puffy sleeves spun around on her heels to face them. "Saaaaaay, if you need help, I do have a couple of pies I'd like to test." She said with an overly cheerful grin.

____________________________________________
Track Field

Well, certainly a show was going to commence. And it was here underneath a bush a Nerd popped his head up. He adjusted his bottle-cap glasses and began to wipe some smudge that was on them. No matter, he had a mission to do and did not have time to waste. And so wordlessly, the acne ridden Gnome retreated back into the bushes and began crawling away towards a series of bleachers.

[Kalimah]

Steven Diggs - Punk Table

PREPPIE!

Forget the fact that she looked exactly like Danica Patrick. The heel clicks, the lack of politeness, the domineering tone, hell, Steve could almost smell the money on her. Plus he was suspicious enough of everything these days to know an infiltrator when he saw one. Especially after that incident in the garage with Charro six months ago. They'd been cleaning the stains from that for weeks. And then Loose Lacey had clarified that she was a Siren. Fan-tucking-fastic!

"Grab 'er!" That was the first reaction Steven Diggs had. The second was the grin of absolute, malicious glee that formed on the enforcer face. Forget getting Charro out of here. Steven Diggs demanded satisfaction. Had a preppie really walked over here into hostile territory? Oh it was like Christmas! No, it was better than Christmas, it was the Daytona 500! She clearly did not get the concept of the Punk, and their murderous hatred for the Prep clique. His foot slammed on to the table, causing the toolbox to burst open. Something flew out of the open top, a remote for... something which the Punk enforcer snatched from the sky and triggered.

Immediately, the air was filled with the loud, crunching sounds of obnoxious thrash metal emanating from Steve's toolbox. It was enough to make it difficult to hear as the Punk flunkies moved out to grab each limb of the Preppie that had just entered their territory. One of them was carrying what looked like a gag. This girl wasn't an unknown to them, and her voice was her most dangerous weapon of all. They had to incapacitate her quickly, mouth and all, and thankfully they had the numbers. The preppie was cut off and alone.

Over the sound of the music, Steven Diggs roared. "You waltzed right th'FUCK own into th'wrong neighbourhood, mawfugga!"

[Rick Sanchez]

At the sight of the plastic handcuffs, Summers broke into an unrestrained, raspy laugh, holding her wrists out for the boy.

"Take me away." No prison could hold her for more than an hour anyways.

Her fun was cut short by Mr. Srs Bidness, who proceeded to drop his tools on the ground. She leaned her chin on her hand, smiling lazily at him.

"Dunno about you, Jughead, I got all the time in the world. But naw, I dunno where Lacey's at the moment."

The girl who'd approached was insufferably adorable, with soft, full lips and wide, black eyes--and that huge, frizzy 'fro--and clad in a short dress with sockings and no shoes? Oh yes. A keeper. Summers perked up in more genuine interest than what she'd shown Charro.

Until the girl curled her lip upon entering their territory and the illusion was shattered. She'd walked in from the Preppie's royal court, of course the pretty ones have horrible personalities. She slumped back into her hand, crestfallen. Not a keeper. Lacey arrived and began chewing out Charro (which was funny, but Summers was still too bummed to laugh) so she absentmindedly announced that she'd 'found her' to Steve, and turned her attention away from the disappointment on legs and onto red-haired punk.

"No, that's a fucking Siren!"

Summers scoffed, and considered spitting on the prep's shoes. Wouldn't like that at all, would she? "That makes sense. Don't do shit for her, Stevie."

When Steve called the rest of the punks to arms, Summers laughed at the spontaneity, but leaned over the table to spit on her shoes anyways.

[Kaalee]

Scarlet groaned and started to thrash about, scratching and biting anyone who came near her. Since she was born to eat raw flesh, it wasn't that hard to break flesh and the blood reminded her of what she ate as a child. The first thing she did was rip the gag in half, glaring at them.
“You really think you can silence me?” She roared, trying to control herself. It would be so easy, too easy, to rip out the throats of the ones nearest her but instead she threatened them.
“If you touch me again, I will Sing, and you all will die. Do you understand me?” Scarlet asked, holding her hands up before she took the few steps it took to get to Steven, and dug her nails into his neck.

“I can introduce you to Danica Patrick, hell I'm sure I can entice her to let you drive her car while she sits on your lap. Or, I can rip out your goddamn throat and eat it for dessert. I haven't had raw flesh in awhile. I miss the taste.” Scarlet threatened, allowing only him to hear it over the music.

“Listen to me, no Song, no manipulation. I need you to fix something...trust me if I knew anyone else could do it, I'd let them. I don't think they can though so call off your lackey's and I can get you whatever you want. I mean how often are you going to a Prep say the words I need you?” Scarlet bargained, hedging her bets on stroking his ego and bribing him.

[Descartes]

Urist sat alone in the hallway beside his locker. His food was in his lap and he ate lifting the plate up to his mouth. For a small meal, it took Urist no more than three minutes to finish. He left very little. Urist's father had taught him to eat quickly and with no distraction. Food is fuel. He walked to a trash can, dumped his tray, squatted down, sprawled out, and did twenty five push-ups.

This was Urists lunch. This would be his lunch until the end of his days.

[Lord Santa]

There was a crying girl somewhere close to Nikolai, and it was really bothering him. Nikolai simply sat reading his book. He didn't bother anyone, so no one bothered him. That was how the world worked for him most of the time. So what in the world had he done to have someone bother him so?

As it stood, the girl in the blue sweater stood sobbing rather obnoxiously close to where Nikolai stood. It was odd, really, as no one ever sat near Nikolai. It was like being alone in prison, but with the world's iciest presence sitting next to you. It really seemed as if the girl had a grudge against Nikolai or something. She sobbed uncontrollably and shrunk into her own sweater like a turtle, while seemingly going deeper and deeper into hysterics.

Nikolai elected to ignore the girl who was having an emotional breakdown of some sorts, but he found it very hard to do. Reading became difficult due to her sobs, and it was becoming annoying. Flicking through the pages, Nikolai found that he had little interest in the remaining contents of the book, it was becoming harder to continue reading it. His concentration had a hole a mile wide and the girl's crying had forced a wedge in it.

Now that he wasn't much interested in reading, Nikolai continued trying to ignore the girl's grief racked sobs while thinking of why she would be bothering him of all people. As his eyes sifted through words, his mind went through his memories, trying to find whether or not he'd wronged the girl in some way before. Try as he might, he couldn't remember ever interacting at all with her, nor any of her friends. Despite how Nikolai looked, he was fairly observant, and he quickly came to the conclusion that the girl wasn't sobbing so close to him out of spite. It was definitely a possibility, but an unlikely one.

Nikolai's revelation was a good beginning, as it narrowed down the list of possible reasons quite a bit. Listening to her sobbing narrowed it down even further. Nikolai's posture made no indications of change, but he was listening. By deciphering her sobs, he figured out that she was in grief for a few pets that had been stolen by the bullies.

While this would make pretty much anyone else sympathetic, it made Nikolai somewhat annoyed. As far as he could deduce, it was a pet rabbit. What was a girl doing keeping a rabbit in a library? Furthermore, animals die much faster than humans, and the rabbits would've likely died in a year or two anyway. And another thing; they wouldn't have been captured by a bully if she didn't take them out of her dorm in the first place.

To anyone else, it would seem that the girl's sorrow was meaningful, but to Nikolai, he would argue that it could all have been avoided if she kept in mind the nature of the school and the relationships the cliques had with each other.

Nevertheless, she was turning white now. He could see it out of the corner of his eyes. Through a mix of losing interest and the girl's sobs, the sounds of the cafeteria once again filtered into his consciousness. He was growing annoyed at the girl for making him lose his concentration, making his reading ineffectual.

Not that he showed it, of course. His body language was the same as ever, though he was beginning to boil inside.

"Stop crying. Crying solves nothing." Nikolai said, interjecting her ramblings. "You're disturbing my reading."

He didn't turn to face the girl, merely said it at her. Even as he talked, he cared little for her plight. He just wanted her to stop sobbing so that he can have his peace time. A humble, if selfish wish, but it was one that essentially dictated his personality, and one he moulded his actions around.

[Camerch]

At the idea of an exploding toilet, Artemis laughed out loud. "That's a brilliant idea! Just imagine him falling out of the stall dripping in toilet water and whatever else he's got in that can! Do you reckon he has stink bombs in there? It would be so awesome if he does! All we need is a couple of firecrackers! I'm sure the Nerds would be happy to help there."

Then he had an idea. He leaned forward on the table. "Hey, what if we put some paint in there as well? Get some poster paint from the art room and dump 'em into the toilet water! Then not only will Cyrios be wet, he'll be colored like a clown!"

[Kalimah]

Steven Diggs - Punk Table

As the fingers closed around his throat, Steven Diggs had a single thought.

What a dumbass.

Who the fuck stumbles into Punk territory and starts demanding things of their most feared enforcer? What kind of fucking Preppie doesn't just send a servant? Steve had been in a good mood. Key word being 'had'. Past tense. He would have just let the boys keep her restrained while he asked what it was that she wanted. Hell, he might have even humoured her! With a catch, of course. But of course, she'd taken the stupidly violent approach and Steve's good mood evaporated. It was time to thrash a preppie, and even as the fingers closed around his throat, Steve's grin was manic.

Not a single one of the Punks had heard her threat, by virtue of the astonishingly loud Polish metal band currently blaring from Steve's toolbox. He'd wanted to play Van Halen but some idiot had shuffled his music library the other day and he still hadn't found the prankster. Probably Charro. Not a single one would hear her sing either. Tch. How dare she take the form of his beloved Danica? Steve wasn't aroused. He was insulted.

The Siren got halfway through something ego-stroking (Steve wasn't listening) right about the time Steve's fist collided with her face. Steven Diggs had not gotten this far in life by being squeamish about hitting girls, nor by being weak. All the girls talked about his body, ripped with military muscle, and all the other Punks talked about his inability to stay down in a fight. Almost simultaneous with the punch, his other hand pried the fingers away from his throat, breaking them in the process. One didn't lay a hostile finger on Steven Diggs, The Machine Head, and get away with it. Finally, his foot on the table lifted and kicked, sending the Siren flying away from him and on to the harsh concrete. There were a few crunching sounds, then silence.

He'd knocked the bitch out. Good. With a press of a button, the music abruptly stopped. "Fuckin' gag th'bitch, yo," he ordered, and two of the random Punks at the table fastened a gag around her mouth. Steve, meanwhile, had retrieved a small box of bandaids from his toolbox and was patching up his little neck wounds. He could have let them bleed, but it was unsanitary. "An' don'forget t'bind 'er hands. Take 'er back to th'prep table an' just dump 'er there. S'a warnin'. They best pray they got a medic, y'dig?" The two lackeys nodded and scurried off, dragging the broken and bleeding form of the siren with them.

That bit of work done, Steve dropped his ass back on to the bench. He'd already gotten to wail on someone today. Putting his hands behind his head and inadvertently showing off his tank biceps, he let out a happy sigh. Winter break was gonna be gooooood.

[Professor_Wyvern]

Cafeteria - Punk Section
"Wooo!"
"FUCK YEAH!"
"Killer"
"...Who the Hell turned off the music!? Shit was tight."
These were many of the sentiments that were shared among the Punks that had watched the event flow forth, and the two lackeys were dragging off the body. Tixhol retrieved the sharpies from her pocket as she returned to drawing on the table. "Ssss, that went well." Charro frowned a bit, before turning to Steve. He narrowed his eyebrows as he kept his hands in a relaxed state behind his head. "Maaaan, we coulda like, totally got some loot outta that! Why ya sendin' tha body back yo?"

Lacey simply glanced at her compatriot and her right hand on her hip. "I know what you're thinking. Besides, we'll get loot from THE MAN in a far more respectable way." Lacey swayed over towards Steven Diggs and smirked at him, "Good work. I've gotta little chat I need to do with 'Nails'. Come on over, after Spike and Hex drop off the body." Lacey turned her attention to Summers, "Yo Static, tag along if ya want." And with that, Lacey headed out of the cafeteria ready to conduct more business.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Cafeteria - Entertainer Section

"Yes!" Tim eagerly declared. "OH Hell yes!" Kuoronos began laughing as he pounded on the table. "I think he snagged some from uh, I forget which Nerd, but I swear he stashed some Stink Bombs there. Ooooh yes! We totally need paint, who wants to go grab it?"

Tim pondered for a moment, "Hey, I think I know a Nerd who may be willing to help out, well for a bit of currency! He should have some fire-crackers on him." The Halfling got up from his seat and plopped onto the concrete floor. "Let's go gather some stuff!" And with that the Halfling began to venture to the Nerd's Table.
________________________________________________________________________
Cafeteria - Nerd Section

Nikolai's rather, insensitive comment seemed to stop the girl for but a moment. She quickly returned to bawling, even louder this time. She knew from experience, that when dealing with some fellow Nerds, that the increased volume of crying tended to help in certain situations. This situation, of pleading for someone else to help, was one of the ones where crying would likely gather someone to help.

As this went on, the Halfling Tim approached where Nikolai was sitting. "Hey there! I need a couple of directions." Tim began bobbing his head as he was searching through the dense crowd of nerds, trying to remember which one had some good access to firecrackers. "Looking for, bang for my buck, if you know what I'm saying."