[center][hr][hr][h1][b][color=00a99d]ATLAS STERLING[/color][/b][/h1]
[img]https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2014-11/7/11/enhanced/webdr08/anigif_enhanced-2180-1415378287-52.gif[/img]
[hr][b]Location:[/b] grimm high school
[b]Interacting With:[/b] [@Salrynn] jae [@Nallore] riley [@Lady Amalthea] cynthia[/center][hr]Watching Riley attempt to comfort Cynthia, even after all this time and the cliques that stayed intact after high school, Atlas was reminded once more how much more compassionate his peers were than he was. Didn't bother him much. Sometimes you have to tell yourself that people as a whole need some character diversity - suppose being the jerk of this gathering equated to being unique. Her kindness was inspiring somewhat; perhaps he could make amends himself.... no, that didn't seem quite like an 'Atlas thing' to do. Plus, there were too many people to count. That Blowhard Jazz girl might have been his first stop, seeing as she was one of the most hard gone through students from Grimm, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen as far as Atlas was concerned. He wasn't her only bully, and you couldn't say the same for most of his victims. Many of them just didn't meet his personal standards and were hurt thusly. Jasmin, however, was unfortunately tortured because of the universally "bad" traits she carried. Kai was one of those who no one else had reason to victimize, but was sadly pestered by Atlas. He was here, too... briefly, the former prom king considered stepping out to just apologise, but his timing was poor. Riley had shifted her attention to him.

When she stood, Atlas did, too, getting up from the condescending crouch he'd gotten into in order to see Cynthia. He tilted his head at the blonde as the spoke, one corner of his mouth twisting upward challengingly. Douchebag of Grimm. That was something of flattery, in his opinion; after all, the nickname implicated that he was the best of all of them. Atlas laughed shortly, rolling his eyes and breaking the contact they had made with Riley's. It was a wonder why he even came, because all of this [i]attitude[/i] was predictable, but what else could be expected from the prom king - or, now, the [i]Douchebag of Grimm[/i]? He locked eyes with her again at the mention of Jae, surprise flashing through his expression, and his shoulders almosg flinched at that name alone. [color=00a99d][i]No way this bitch knows.[/i][/color] Unbeknownst to him, pretty much everyone did. Atlas sneered at her nastily once he'd recovered, playing it off as if he was over the 'incident,' and threw one arm out at Riley threateningly like he was going to shove her. [color=00a99d][b]"What-the-fuck-ever, Ridgeway, it's none of your business. Not like you're such an angel yourself."[/b][/color] Jae seemed to be excited to jump in and add his own two cents to the bucket, so Atlas threw him a cold glare (although if one looked closer, his fists clenched just slightly at his sides in preparation). [color=00a99d][b]"Step off, dickhead, we're not in high school anymore. We can have a [i]rematch[/i] sometime."[/b][/color] He hadn't moved on. It's the exact reason he chose not to address Jae directly earlier, but it's not like Atlas would admit that much.

He might've forgotten about Cynthia if he didn't spy that sickeningly slow head turn out of his periphery, and, bemused, Atlas turned back to her, his chin raised and forcing him to look down through lidded eyes. Her smile read like some creature from Wonderland, and he was unable to take her seriously, apparently taking no notice of the fact that the mentally ill should definitely be. Her voice was sweet when she greeted him, and Atlas was momentarily tricked into believing that perhaps she only remembered the times he showed faux-kindness to her, but no such luck existed in his life. She was flying at him in moments, and, with none of the reflexes he had in, say, 2006, Atlas couldn't fend her off. For such an emaciated young woman, Cynthia was [i]strong.[/i] If he had the time to think, he'd have attributed it to too much time wrongly locked up in an institution, stuck in a place that didn't allow very much mobility and that forced all of its' patients into both a physical and metaphorical box. Her bony knees were digging into his shoulders, and despite a thin layering of muscle and fat over his own body, she was too angular to ignore. That wasn't the worst part, though - her little fists came down, over and over again, unfaltering, like Cynthia had been working up to this moment. Atlas, with all his selfishness, figured that must be the case: she must have been planning this little episode all along. Against him.

Unable to control his breathing like he'd been taught to in therapy because his senses were just that overloaded, Atlas began hyperventilating, throwing his chin back and trying to roll over to catch his breath. [i]Of course[/i] within just thirty minutes of arriving he'd have a panic attack - and because of a physical altercation, nevertheless. Atlas felt blood fly from his nostrils, and then from his gums where his teeth came down on his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. Disorientation only set in fully when the back of his head came crashing down against the not-so-soft gymnasium floor, and he dazedly stopped struggling, arms falling from their hooks around Cynthia's waist and draping over her thighs. Ignoring the repeated contact made to his skull, Atlas's head gradually rotated, turning so that he could rest his abused cheek against the floor and spit out the blood-and-saliva mixture that filled his mouth. It was a strange combination, panic and physical trauma-induced confusion; while his heart was pounding and his pupils were dilated and he was sweating and he knew he [i]had to get out, it's not safe here,[/i] Atlas could only see vague shapes and colours, maybe some of the flying golden strands of Cynthia's hair. 

He faintly heard her voice, cheery and sweet and out of place in a situation he deemed very stressful (reasonably so). He couldn't quite make out what she was saying - it was like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to his brain and made mush of it. Atlas wasn't exactly concussed, it would take much more beating from Cynthia to accomplish that, but he was overreacting somewhat and that resulted in a [i]bit[/i] of hardship. His eyes were slitted at this point, like that could protect them from any more damage, but his gaze moved around in search of help. Cynically, he realized no one in this room would care much to assist him... unless, he hypothesized, it was Cyn they had to help, and they were forced to separate former cheerleader from former prom king. Resolutely, Atlas's trembling hands went up to her waist again, moving further upward until he reached her neck, and he found the strength to tighten his fingers round her neck, attempting to strangulate the much smaller blonde. He recognized well how imbalanced this battle was, but it had always been that way, even in those four years of Hell. After all, Atlas had a habit of picking on those smaller - mentally or physically - than him. Take Hye for example, one of the smallest in immediate company; he was practically unstoppable around her back in the day. This was nothing new for him.

Laughter from a voice even deeper than Cynthia's scared him, just slightly. For a moment, Atlas thought it could be him; he tended to get a bit manic once situations grew to this level of intensity. But, upon forcing some self-awareness, he discovered he was far from laughing - in fact, Atlas, Douchebag of Grimm, was still hyperventilating, in the most [i]attractive[/i] way one could (really far from it, actually; his fingers were going numb around Cynthia's neck). So, he tore his eyes from where they were fixated on the glowing blonde mass that could only be "[i]Killer[/i]" and turned them to the source: Jae. Of course. Atlas was just self-conscious enough to spit the mouthful of blood he'd been building up at the other man, spiting the finger that pointed at him quite weakly. Just his luck that his voice didn't come out and help him, so Atlas was left muttering an inaudible [color=00a99d][b]"Fuck you,"[/b][/color] punctuated by a thin stream of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth.
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