Post by Adrian on Jul 23, 2009 3:50:14 GMT -5
Things were changing, and threatening to pass the former multi-billionaire behind. Adrian, however, would not be so easily left out of the world.
Masters' Academy students were appearing all over Moral Crest, their intentions still not fully understood. A strange doctor had been threatening the school nurse, accusing her of things she could not have possibly done. And amidst it all, as one can so easily forget, there was still a school, full of high school students, still trying to get by, to graduate and move out into the real world. Some just wanted to get by, of course, but others, like Adrian Hanlon, wanted more.
He wanted everything.
However, he knew that, now, he was but one man, with only the barest of a home, and nothing to his name but an office building he could hardly afford to pay the rent on and the last few clothes on his back. Even so, his ambition was not so easily subdued. If God gave you the gifts you need to succeed, He had certainly graced Adrian with no lack of talents. All the boy needed was focus, and some way of garnering a nest egg, through one means or another. While a legitimate business was the cleanest, it was certainly not the quickest, and thus...
Things needed to get moving. It had been too long since the boy had felt like he had actually beeng doing something, rather than simply existing from day to day. And so, here he was, in the school courtyard during lunch time. He was dressed in his usual of late, a button-down, short-sleeve t-shirt, this one black with silver tribal-esque designs around it, jeans, and black sneakers, and of course, the Earth Dragon coat. His hands were adorned with the usual fingerless gloves, and his eyes flickered to the things adorned on the cuffs before he went to a picnic table, wordlessly punting one of the two students eating in the chest and sending him falling backwards from the table. The boy, clearly not interested in pursuing a fight, simply scurried off, leaving Adrian alone with the other one, who looked clearly perturbed by this.
"Hey, buddy," Adrian said, taking a seat across from him in the spot formerly occupied by the other boy, who was now nursing a large footprint on his chest, "you see what I did to that guy?"
The student nodded, not necessarily afraid, but curious, and hesitant.
"Unless you help me out here, you'll get worse. When I say 'worse', I mean, half this table will end up crammed up your ass, and the other half down your throat."
"Wha-" The student said, suddenly a lot more worried about his personal well-being.
"That's right, I will break this table in half and re-form it inside you. Now do you want to play along, or do you want to be forever remembered alongside this picnic table?"
The boy paused, bit his lip, and finally, after a long pause, nodded.
"Good, hey, don't worry, this'll be fun. All I need you to do is, when I walk away, follow these orders." Adrian reached into his coat pocket and flattened out a folded sheet of paper, putting it onto the table for the boy to read. When the boy reached for it, Adrian's grip tightened, and his eyes fixed on him, letting the student know that he was only to read, and not to take. After the boy had committed the rather simple instructions to memory, he nodded to Adrian, suddenly feeling like he was a part of something.
"Remember, when I walk away from this table, wait a few moments, and then act out your part." With that, Adrian stood, and left the courtyard.
---Moments Later---
The kid sat there, thinking about his lot in life. Who was that punkass blond guy anyway? What kind of right did he come in and start beating up his friends, and telling HIM what to do? To threaten him with bodily harm, on top of it all, like he never got any of THAT under the corporal punishment system.
Shit, everytime I forget my homework, I get another bruise. It's nothing new to me.
The boy continued to think, getting angrier and angrier by the moment. This wasn't anything new, not at all. The hurt, the trouble, the tough guys who made more trouble for everyone else because they wanted to make a name for themselves.
It's just the way of things, isn't it? The meek suffer so the proud can wave their dicks in the air in some fucking pointless war for notoriety. The only way the meek can save themselves is to become the proud, and risk even more injury and trouble, but the payoff... to be the best... maybe the Captain? I see the allure. Whatever, fuck that guy, fuck the captain, and fuck this school. It won't be long and I'll be out of here anyway.
Despite the closure of his thought, as he ate, the boy couldn't help that niggling thought writhing in the back of his mind. To become the proud. To show his own strength. He wasn't that bad of a fighter, and he was pretty hardened from all the beatings he'd taken at the hands of more ambitious students and teachers. He knew, deep inside, that if he wanted, he could be right where that blond guy was, right where any of the other students whose names were whispered throughout the halls.
If my name was known, I could live out the rest of my life here in peace... if they feared me...
Fueled by his desire, the boy shook his head, finally verbalizing his decision.
"Fuck that guy. Fuck that guy, and FUCK ALL OF YOU!"
Screaming the last words at the top of his lungs, the boy slammed his hands onto the picnic table, and then gripped his lunch tray, and flung the uneaten food from it. By this point, everyone was looking at him funny. He stormed from the table, tray in hand, looking as if he was just leaving the courtyard. As he passed another table, however, he chambered the tray and swung, as hard as he could, into the face of the nearest student, a male cheerleader that the boy had always secretly hated, both for his popularity and the fact that he always got to hang out with the cute girls.
Bloody-faced, the attackee toppled from his seat, plastic fork still in hand. He looked up at his attacker and glared. "What the hell was that?" he said, but before bothering to wait for a reply, his own anger at his mistreatment overtook him, and he rushed for the boy, fork at the ready, hoping that even a plastic apparatus could cause some damage if stabbed in the right places.
Meanwhile, Adrian, looking over his shoulder at the action behind him, couldn't help but smile. The fight was infectious, as friends of the cheerleader were coming to his aid, and the attacker's own friends were rushing across the courtyard to help out as well. It would only get worse from here, in such a public place, and soon the real heavy hitters would show up.
Then, it would be time to observe.
Masters' Academy students were appearing all over Moral Crest, their intentions still not fully understood. A strange doctor had been threatening the school nurse, accusing her of things she could not have possibly done. And amidst it all, as one can so easily forget, there was still a school, full of high school students, still trying to get by, to graduate and move out into the real world. Some just wanted to get by, of course, but others, like Adrian Hanlon, wanted more.
He wanted everything.
However, he knew that, now, he was but one man, with only the barest of a home, and nothing to his name but an office building he could hardly afford to pay the rent on and the last few clothes on his back. Even so, his ambition was not so easily subdued. If God gave you the gifts you need to succeed, He had certainly graced Adrian with no lack of talents. All the boy needed was focus, and some way of garnering a nest egg, through one means or another. While a legitimate business was the cleanest, it was certainly not the quickest, and thus...
Things needed to get moving. It had been too long since the boy had felt like he had actually beeng doing something, rather than simply existing from day to day. And so, here he was, in the school courtyard during lunch time. He was dressed in his usual of late, a button-down, short-sleeve t-shirt, this one black with silver tribal-esque designs around it, jeans, and black sneakers, and of course, the Earth Dragon coat. His hands were adorned with the usual fingerless gloves, and his eyes flickered to the things adorned on the cuffs before he went to a picnic table, wordlessly punting one of the two students eating in the chest and sending him falling backwards from the table. The boy, clearly not interested in pursuing a fight, simply scurried off, leaving Adrian alone with the other one, who looked clearly perturbed by this.
"Hey, buddy," Adrian said, taking a seat across from him in the spot formerly occupied by the other boy, who was now nursing a large footprint on his chest, "you see what I did to that guy?"
The student nodded, not necessarily afraid, but curious, and hesitant.
"Unless you help me out here, you'll get worse. When I say 'worse', I mean, half this table will end up crammed up your ass, and the other half down your throat."
"Wha-" The student said, suddenly a lot more worried about his personal well-being.
"That's right, I will break this table in half and re-form it inside you. Now do you want to play along, or do you want to be forever remembered alongside this picnic table?"
The boy paused, bit his lip, and finally, after a long pause, nodded.
"Good, hey, don't worry, this'll be fun. All I need you to do is, when I walk away, follow these orders." Adrian reached into his coat pocket and flattened out a folded sheet of paper, putting it onto the table for the boy to read. When the boy reached for it, Adrian's grip tightened, and his eyes fixed on him, letting the student know that he was only to read, and not to take. After the boy had committed the rather simple instructions to memory, he nodded to Adrian, suddenly feeling like he was a part of something.
"Remember, when I walk away from this table, wait a few moments, and then act out your part." With that, Adrian stood, and left the courtyard.
---Moments Later---
The kid sat there, thinking about his lot in life. Who was that punkass blond guy anyway? What kind of right did he come in and start beating up his friends, and telling HIM what to do? To threaten him with bodily harm, on top of it all, like he never got any of THAT under the corporal punishment system.
Shit, everytime I forget my homework, I get another bruise. It's nothing new to me.
The boy continued to think, getting angrier and angrier by the moment. This wasn't anything new, not at all. The hurt, the trouble, the tough guys who made more trouble for everyone else because they wanted to make a name for themselves.
It's just the way of things, isn't it? The meek suffer so the proud can wave their dicks in the air in some fucking pointless war for notoriety. The only way the meek can save themselves is to become the proud, and risk even more injury and trouble, but the payoff... to be the best... maybe the Captain? I see the allure. Whatever, fuck that guy, fuck the captain, and fuck this school. It won't be long and I'll be out of here anyway.
Despite the closure of his thought, as he ate, the boy couldn't help that niggling thought writhing in the back of his mind. To become the proud. To show his own strength. He wasn't that bad of a fighter, and he was pretty hardened from all the beatings he'd taken at the hands of more ambitious students and teachers. He knew, deep inside, that if he wanted, he could be right where that blond guy was, right where any of the other students whose names were whispered throughout the halls.
If my name was known, I could live out the rest of my life here in peace... if they feared me...
Fueled by his desire, the boy shook his head, finally verbalizing his decision.
"Fuck that guy. Fuck that guy, and FUCK ALL OF YOU!"
Screaming the last words at the top of his lungs, the boy slammed his hands onto the picnic table, and then gripped his lunch tray, and flung the uneaten food from it. By this point, everyone was looking at him funny. He stormed from the table, tray in hand, looking as if he was just leaving the courtyard. As he passed another table, however, he chambered the tray and swung, as hard as he could, into the face of the nearest student, a male cheerleader that the boy had always secretly hated, both for his popularity and the fact that he always got to hang out with the cute girls.
Bloody-faced, the attackee toppled from his seat, plastic fork still in hand. He looked up at his attacker and glared. "What the hell was that?" he said, but before bothering to wait for a reply, his own anger at his mistreatment overtook him, and he rushed for the boy, fork at the ready, hoping that even a plastic apparatus could cause some damage if stabbed in the right places.
Meanwhile, Adrian, looking over his shoulder at the action behind him, couldn't help but smile. The fight was infectious, as friends of the cheerleader were coming to his aid, and the attacker's own friends were rushing across the courtyard to help out as well. It would only get worse from here, in such a public place, and soon the real heavy hitters would show up.
Then, it would be time to observe.
