[h3][B][I]Alistair, Elliot, Maeve, and Vail[/I][/B][/h3]

Vail barely paid attention as someone called her out. She did not care. If she had spilled some brat's juice box then that was their problem, not hers. Not only that, Alistair was giving her another one of his lectures, something she had learned to drown out with remarkable efficiency. He would say something about responsibility and how impressionable young people could be, going on and on like a human resources instruction video, and that while Vail had every right to dislike A.M.R.O. she should at least understand that for all the bad they do, they have the right idea in mind. Vail nodded, although she refused to respond in any other way. Her hatred for A.M.R.O. was passionate, and she made every chance to rebel. That was not something one talk would be able to stop.

Clearly someone disapproved of that, as something flew past her, ricocheting off of a wall and striking her hand with remarkable force. She pulled her hand back, more out of shock than pain, as Henry stilled covered and shielded her left hand. Vail opened her mouth to curse, wreching herself away from Alistair's grip and turning. She raised a gloved hand, pointing it directly ahead at where she assumed the cane had come from.

"[COLOR=ed145b]If you try and pull that shit one more time I swear I'll-[/COLOR]"

A whole other serious of curse words fell from her mouth when she saw who exactly had thrown the object, and what the object was. [i]A cane[/i]. Her fist clenched so tightly that even Alistair could hear the sound of metal grinding and bending against metal, groaning as the strength of Vail's clenched fist started to deform the very alloy that made up her left gauntlet. Her eyes were wild and her cheeks had turned a bright red.

Joux was everything Vail hated. A stuck up, arrogant, patronising little man who dedicated his life towards putting people like herself down just because he was he was an authority figure. That was far from his worst crime, however. Vail had been taught by this very man through her years as an apprentice Asylum, as had Alistair, and that had taught her one crucial thing about Joux that infuriated her more than anything else in the world.

He was [i]stronger[/i] than her.

Vail brought her hand around and slammed it into a corner of a concrete wall, tearing out a solid, fist sized chunk as she did so. She grit her teeth, her breating heavy and erratic as she felt her blood boil. Vail thought her time with the old bastard over, but no, even graduation did not offer her sanctuary.

Alistair rested a hand carefully on her shoulder, and Vail almost brought her other arm around to punch him. She managed to restrain herself this time, but only just. "[COLOR=f6989d]Relax. He's challenging the other students, not us. Head outside and take a breather for a moment.[/COLOR]"

"[COLOR=ed145b]Fucking fine. Just don't get your hopes up that I'll be there when you're done.[/COLOR]"

Patting her gently on the back, Alistair leaned in and whispered something briefly in his companion's ear before he let her storm off, bumping into a few other nervous students as she passed. He gave a brief smile. Vail was angry, but she was learning. A.M.R.O. had torn her from her family and those memories were still quite fresh in her mind. Joux represented everything she hated about the organisation, and while Alistair was on good terms with Joux, he understood her pain. He had just learned to cope with it better than she did.

He turned on the spot, and as a single penny flew towards him he brought up his umbrella. Joux was accurate, only made stronger by his alchemy, but if anyone was fast enough to react to one of his attacks it was Alistair. He flicked his wrist, bringing his umbrella around in a full circle up just in time to knock the penny out of the way. Alistair carried the momentum around and brought Piper back down again, the tip of the umbrella tapping the solid ground audibly. The penny flew of to the side, hitting the wall and clattering to the floor. Alistair just grinned and leant forward, supporting himself with his umbrella.

"[COLOR=f6989d]Joux! Is that really any way to greet an old friend?[/COLOR]" Alistair bowed, walking with swayed, erratic footsteps as he started to approach the older man, tapping his umbrella against the ground as he walked. "[COLOR=f6989d]You still enjoy throwing your students to the wolves, I see? At least try not to go too hard on them, will you?[/COLOR]"


The coin struck Elliot directly between the eyes. 

The real kicker? Had she not been absently touching her lips, staring bewilderedly after the redheaded kiss-thief like a deer stuck in some proverbial headlights, she probably could have evaded. Done a sweet, badass roll, or even just . . . shuffled awkwardly to the side, or something. 

But, since this was apparently her penance for some sin committed in a prior life, no sick kickflips were to be had. Instead, Elliot flinched and took a heavy step back, wobbling precariously on unsteady legs. Shortly after, her world exploded in pain. It pulsed through her skull in jagged waves, igniting every single nerve ending she had, and it took every last vestige of willpower she could muster to bite back a yelp. Her hands clapped against her aching forehead, fingers gripping the skin tightly in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

It didn't work, because [i]of course it didn't[/i], and really, she probably should've known better by this point. Wasn't there some kind of bullshit law dictating bad luck? 'If something can go wrong, it will', or however it went? In this case, something had indeed gone very wrong. Catastrophically, even, because this delusional old geezer had almost [i]dented her fucking skull![/i] 

Still clutching her aching forehead, features contorted into a cross between a snarl and a grimace - which lessened the overall impact exponentially - Elliot's eyes darted rapidly around. All she needed was a pipe, no matter how small or brittle. One pipe, one iron rod, even the bottom of a lunch table, and her alchemy would handle the rest. 

[color=deepskyblue]"Hey, what the hell is your damage?"[/color] she snapped, levelling Joux a steely glower. [color=deepskyblue]"Don't lump me in with these idiots - I'm a bystander, I didn't do a damn thing! Don't you people eat up that 'saving the innocents' shit on a spoon?"[/color] And, predictably, her mouth gathered the makings of her yet-unformed plan, and unravelled them quickly and without remorse. Of course she'd mouth off. Of course she would, like a [i]complete and utter jackass.[/i] [i][color=deepskyblue]Yeah, great job, shit for brains! Just provoke him further, why don't you? See if he'll throw a knife next time![/color][/i]

 Distraction. She needed a distraction, something to keep him occupied so she could scavenge for a weapon - the coins, maybe? No. They weren't iron, so they were absolutely worthless. [i][color=deepskyblue]Can't even propel them back up his ass where they belong.[/color][/i]

That idiot redhead had done something to her head, clearly. Why couldn't she concentrate?

"[COLOR=f6989d]Excuse me, my dear,[/COLOR]" said a voice from behind Elliot as a finger tapped her gently on the shoulder. Behind her stood Alistair who tilted his head to the side as she turned to face him, a smug smile on his face. He had spotted her amongst the crowd as she had been involved in the fiasco involving Vail and the red haired woman, and she seemed rather distraught. Alistair never missed an opportunity to stick his nose in where it was not welcome. He moved his hand slightly to rest it on her shoulder and leant against her very gently. "[COLOR=f6989d]You seem to be having a little trouble. I thought I might be able to offer you some help. First of all, this may help you think a little more clearly.[/COLOR]"

A rush of alchemy flooded Elliot's mind, blurring her vision for the briefest moment. As her sight returned she saw the cafeteria, as various rookie alchemists charged towards Joux, hoping to steal the glory and be the one to take him down. The fighting was fierce and swift, difficult for the eye to keep track of, but as moments passed, the movements of Elliot's fellow students seemed to slow. Their steps were sluggish and their punches seemed to move in slow motion.

"[COLOR=f6989d]Relax, sweetheart,[/COLOR]" Alistair continued, although even his voice seemed unsually slow. It was hard to follow, albeit not impossible if Elliot concentrated. "[COLOR=f6989d]My alchemy specialisation focuses on altering the mind's perception of the world around it. In the simplest terms I can use alchemy to speed up or slow down the reaction times of others. I have tweaked the way you see the world so that you might have a little more time to think and plan your method of attack. Now we have a few moments to talk. What was it that you were searching for so fiercely? A focus for your alchemy, perhaps?[/COLOR]"

"[color=ed1c24]Oh fuck![/COLOR]" Maeve shouted as she saw Joux's hands flick and the pennies leave them. Immediately she threw herself on the ground, feeling the coin rip through her hair as she dove. Rolling away and towards a table, which she promptly flipped over and took cover behind, Maeve began speaking Irish. "[color=ed1c24]Lanna de cnámh a throid namhaid mianach. Lanna fola agus bhfeice. Lig dom caith iad le cruinneas Cernunnos.[/COLOR]" More bone blades sprouted from her hands, five in all. Maeve, hands bleeding from the wounds, stood from behind her makeshift cover and threw four of her six knives, one after the other. They flew with unnatural accuracy towards him.

As soon as each one was close enough to Joux, about a foot away, she snapped "[color=ed1c24]Pléascadh i dtreo Joux![/COLOR]" And the knives exploded into many shards of bone, all aimed directly towards Joux. They didn't have enough force to go deeply enough into flesh to kill him, but they would certainly hurt. It was a simple logic. If Joux was hurt, he couldn't fight back. She didn't want to kill him, though she doubted she could, but hurting him was completely and utterly fair game. 

A dizzying wave of nausea crashed over Elliot, filtering her vision through a hazy blur. Maybe it was the grueling grate of the gaudy pink suit assaulting her eyes, or some latent case of vertigo, but she couldn’t figure out which was spinning faster: the world, or her head. Considering she'd just suffered what was probably severe brain damage - what the [i]hell[/i] was wrong with the teachers at this school, seriously - she was banking on the latter. 

Was she hallucinating? Was this her punishment for committing a crime in a previous life - was suffering through this encounter some twisted, sadistic form of atonement? Hopefully, this tacky creep with the ostentatious garb was just a figment of her overtaxed imagination. 

There was no way it was humanly possible for someone to have such a horrible fashion sense, anyway. Elliot was no couture connoisseur, but seriously, head-to-toe pink? At his age? [i]Disgusting.[/i]

[color=deepskyblue]"Normally, I make it a point to [i]not[/i] talk to people that can't shouldn't be allowed to dress themselves, but I'll do you a favor and make an exception."[/color] Rude, yes, but maybe he'd been living his life in genuine ignorance, drifting through his days blissfully unaware of his predicament. Maybe the poor sap'd been waiting for someone to come along and rescue him - like, stage an intervention, maybe. [color=deepskyblue]"You sure it worked? Everything's all slow and fuzzy and my head hurts."[/color] She paused, then, with a noncommittal shrug, amended, [color=deepskyblue]"Could be the concussion, I guess - d'you [i]know[/i] how hard that bastard hits?"[/color]

"[COLOR=f6989d]That's normal, dear. It takes a little while to get used to it,[/COLOR]" Alistair replied. "[COLOR=f6989d]I have only applied a mild change to your perception for now so that you can get used to it. I am used to a slightly stronger dose than what you are currently experiencing, but I know how disorienting it can be first hand and I am trying to help you, not hinder you. Now, you still haven't answered my question?[/COLOR]"

A pensive look crossed her face, brows furrowed thoughtfully, and, swivelling her gaze toward the pink nightmare before her, she said, [color=deepskyblue]"Yeah, guess so - can't tear that guy a new one without a weapon, and I can only conduct my alchemy through iron. Kind of dumb and inconvenient."[/color] She surveryed him almost curiously, and her gaze locked on the umbrella at his waist. Her eyes lit up, and the gears in her brain kicked into overdrive. [color=deepskyblue]"Hey, gimme that umbrella - I'll forgive that hideous suit if you do!"[/color] 

What she counted as approval - tolerance, in just about anyone else's book - was as good a bargaining chip as any, right? Besides, maybe, if she saved his ass - since there was no way anyone that blatantly colorblind was even remotely competent - she could convince him to give up the gaudy pink. A total win-win, if she did say so herself. 

Alistair raised his umbrella up, inspecting it for the briefest moment. "[COLOR=f6989d]This old thing? What could you possibly need this for?[/COLOR]" he asked, although he did not hesitate to toss the umbrella up into the air, letting it spin once before he caught the opposite end with his open hand. He held the umbrella out for her to grab by the handle. "[COLOR=f6989d]It is a rather unorthodox weapon, hon, so it is difficult to handle for those inexperienced in its use. However, if you feel like you may be better able to face Joux with such a weapon at your disposal then by all means, go ah-[/COLOR]"

"[color=deepskyblue]Yeah, yeah, okay, sure,[/COLOR]" Elliot said, impatience bleeding into her voice as she grasped at the proffered soon-to-be instrument of mass destruction. That was, as soon as she made some necessary modifications, namely making it about a hundred percent cooler. Seriously, what kind of massive tool carried around an umbrella indoors? 

With a sharp swish of the wrist, the umbrella was extended to its full length. One hand steadied the hilt as it swayed in her grip, the metal cool against her fingertips. The other slid up the shaft, brushing against the textured canvas.

She snapped it in two with all the cheerful nonchalance of an absolute maniac, a wide, unsettling battle grin - or was it a leer? - unfurling on her face. "[color=deepskyblue]Aw, shit, I broke it,[/COLOR]" she deadpanned, sounding exactly the opposite. Her voice brimmed with unbridled excitement, and the urge to fight, to pound fists against flesh and watch that conniving, slimy old fuck [i]pay[/i]. 

Alistair physically cringed when he saw his weapon so carelessly ruined. "[COLOR=f6989d]Oh, please don't- no, there's no need to- If you wouldn't mind just-[/COLOR]" His head quickly fell into his hand as he realised his efforts were fruitless. "[COLOR=f6989d]Even Vail would be a little more considerate...[/COLOR]"

The hilt elongated with a series of rattling clinks, and the sharp fragments of metal clinging resolutely to the canvas were drawn to the makeshift shank as if by bullshit hero magic - or, she noted almost wryly, magnetism, which wasn't nearly as lame. It was a crude approximation of a sword, all jagged edges and brittle, uneven points and perhaps a bit too flat and slender to sustain more than a single slash, but it was a sword nonetheless. 

She shot the fashion atrocity a sideways look. [color=deepskyblue]"The jackass with the gauntlets? You don't mean the idiot that dragged me into this mess!"[/color] The hand not occupied by the makeshift montrosity curled into a fist, clenched so tightly the knuckles turned white. Considering how pale she was normally, it was kind of a neat trick. [color=deepskyblue]"Whatever, doesn't matter. How do I kick this fucker's ass?"[/color] she asked, gesturing to Joux. 

The man beside her ran a hand thoughtfully across his chin as if stroking an imaginary beard. "[COLOR=f6989d]Look at the way he stands. He puts more weight on his right leg. That is because his left leg is a prosthetic.[/COLOR]" He motioned briefly to Joux's left leg, and then to his right hand. "[COLOR=f6989d]And his right hand? Joux injured it long ago, and it is much harder for him to fight with that hand than it is for him to use his left. That should give you just enough of an opening for you to strike his leg and make him lose balance.[/COLOR]"

Alistair playfully pat the woman on the back. "[COLOR=f6989d]Good luck, dear, and make sure you land the first hit. Joux won't give you a second.[/COLOR]"

Determination blazed in her eyes, wild and intense, and with an unsettling battle grin plastered on her face like war paint, Elliot afforded the colorblind menace a perfunctory nod. [i][color=deepskyblue]Fake leg, fucked-up arm, got it. Probably got loads of cheap tricks up those ugly sleeves. Don't get cocky, you asshole,[/color][/i] she warned herself, legs tensing in preparation.

She brandished the patchwork sword with a dramatic flourish, and, eyes locked steadily on Joux's right hand, she launched. Her shoulder strained with the force behind the swing, every muscle and tendon was screaming in protest, and the hilt was jagged and uncomfortable in her hand, but she didn't care.

Didn't have time to care. All she could do was slash and hope it connected.