Protector and Philanderer

Thursday had been going well for John. Operative word there, had. He’d woken refreshed and feeling alive, clearly the result of a good night's sleep and with nothing to do with the rather raunchy phone sex he’d had with his girlfriend the previous evening. The bus had been on time, the weather had been sunny, his first two classes had ed by in a breeze courtesy of open book tests that required zero thought, and the third - music - had a visiting speaker who was a professor of vocal music and had given John several ideas for deg songs for his fledgling church… at least, when he got a flock larger than just his girlfriend. She already sang for him, and in a far more interesting manner than sacred vocal music.

No, the issue came as per usual at lunch, in the form of Larry, Frank’s ‘new buddy’. The boxer clamped one hand down on John’s shoulder as he was trying to enjoy his food, before leaning in. “Frank wants to talk to you. Dunno why he sent me, but he said to meet him where you learned your lesson last week. Now.”

The man’s grip wasn’t painful, not exactly, but it certainly had the suggestion that a great deal of pain would be forthcoming if John didn’t accept Frank’s ‘friendly’ request. Pausing only to swallow the last bite of his meal and pocket the apple he’d picked for dessert, John scrambled up and followed the other man out of the building and around to the old gymnasium.

To his surprise, when he got there, Frank was alone. Finding the meathead away from his girlfriend was a rarity to begin with, but to do so without a crowd of his toadies was something else entirely. The instant they got there, Larry turned and began to walk away too, worrying John still further. “Larry said you wanted to talk to me, Frank?” he ventured, tensing his legs to run, just in case the jock intended to do something worse than a usual beating.

The jock glanced around, then nodded. “You talk to all the other nerds, right, Newman?” It was such a curveball question that for a moment John didn’t entirely know how to reply.

“I mean… some of them? Mostly just to play chess or… What’s this about, Frank?”

The other man grimaced, his meaty hands opening and closing as if forming fists helped him think. “They know shit. Like… that new teacher. He’s weird. And Vanessa doesn’t like him. What do you know about him? My friends see you nerds talking all the time. Worse than the cheerleaders. And it’s easier to just pummel one nerd to learn stuff than a bunch of you.”

John ran over what he knew of the new teacher, the threat of pummeling giving him ample motivation to try and appease the man. ”He’s an archer who is probably strong enough to bend even you into a pretzel without any real effort,” probably wasn’t the answer Frank was looking for. “Umm…” he began at last, “he replaced the others because one had a family emergency and the other was being a creep to June?”

Frank wrinkled his nose. “The art teacher with the huge knockers? I can see why… Wait, that isn’t what I want to know. Why’s the new guy so weird?”

Shrugging, John answered honestly, “I don’t know. I can ask around, because you’re right in that he seems… odd. Could it just be that he’s foreign? I heard he came here from Britain or something?”

The bully shook his head. “No, that ain’t it either. Vanessa thinks European culture is ex-hot-ic. No way that’d freak her out so much. But I gotta find out, she won’t tell me anything and it’s pissing me off. How am I supposed to look out for her if she won’t tell me what’s bothering her?” Then, some of the usual Frank resurfaced and he chuckled. “Why the fuck did I ask you that? As if you’d understand looking out for your girl, the only women you’d get to spend time with would charge by the hour.” Turning, Frank grunted and punched the wall, seemingly more for the sake of punching than anything else.

“Go on, fuck off. If you hear anything, you tell Larry or me right away, understand? If I learn you found something out and didn’t tell me…” Another fist hitting the wall punctuated the statement, and John turned and bolted.

The conversation had been beyond weird. Even using him to gather intel, for Frank to do it in such an underhand manner so as to not let Vanessa know, presumably so he could protect her from whatever vibes the cheerleader was getting off the newest Abyssal addition to Ashcroft… It was a different side to the man, one John hadn’t seen before. If it wasn’t for the threats and the history of violence, it would almost be enough to make him respect the guy.

Running back around the building, opting to use an entrance further along that led directly to a stairwell that’d take him up to his last classes of the day, John thought that the discussion with Frank would be the weirdest or most worrying thing about Ashcroft that afternoon. He was wrong.

His route from the old gym swung past one of the small outbuildings that handled power and water to the campus; the janitor usually kept them locked, although the locks were so old that anyone could have picked them with a hairclip in seconds. It appeared that someone had done so, because as he sprinted past he saw that one of the doors was slightly ajar. Curious, he slowed, looking through the gap, before moving on as quietly as he could.

In the outbuilding, blind to anything beyond the other’s lips and hands, there had been two figures. One, John dimly recognized as being one of Frank’s teammates - just another of the jocks who usually played second fiddle to the stronger man. The other, practically straddling the first and very much in charge… was Vanessa.

John worked his way through his initial stances with care, trying very hard not to think about how he had just discovered that Frank somehow thought of himself as a protector towards a woman who was apparently rather enthusiastically cheating on him. The slow, almost meditative movements of his practice weapon through a series of blocks and strikes was doing wonders to remove the chills from his spine every time he thought about what would happen when Frank found out that particular bit of information.

There was no way he could tell the man, of course. Vanessa would deny it, and John was pretty sure even with his current HP he wouldn’t survive an enraged Frank ‘protecting Vanessa’s honor’. So… get stronger, do not get involved in the dating drama between the two people who once upon a time he’d have considered his nemeses.

Pausing after his latest set, John pondered that thought for a moment. ”They really aren’t all that scary any more. Not now that I’ve fought real monsters. And compared to the apocalyptic threat chaos cultists could be… a couple of bullies are definitely not nemesis material.” He grinned to himself. Maybe one day he’d gain a real nemesis. For now… Turning, he walked over to the teacher and bowed. “Can I request a spar?”

The teacher didn’t even glance up, instead pointing to where one of the other students was moving through a series of flowing spear-thrusts with a grace that showed they’d been training for years instead of only for a couple of weeks. “Ask Lucas. He needs more practice against unpredictable opponents, and with your level of training, you will be unpredictable like all new fighters.”

Walking out of Ashcroft some time later, John winced. Lucas had been fair, hadn’t tried to hurt him, and had actually not been a match for John on speed, fifteen Agility doing its job. On the other hand, as he’d explained afterwards, he’d been practicing spear-fighting in various forms since becoming obsessed with Roman legionnaires in kindergarten. Over a decade of practice with everything from a purloined broom through to his current training weapons - not to mention the high grade sparring weapon he’d picked up when John had requested a bout - had given him experience John simply lacked.

That lack had shown itself in neat spear thrusts. Not directly at John, but between his feet, tripping him or sweeping his legs. On the rare occasions Lucas had gone for a strike towards the chest or arms, John had managed to turn it away from injury, but being dropped on his hip or backside constantly had distinctly hurt. By the end of the lesson, he’d even lost a few HP, although those were slowly trickling back in as he headed for the bus to the junkyard. Ahead of him, Matilda was already waiting at the stop. Normally seeing his girlfriend would have him beaming, but they’d both agreed to keep their relationship quiet in the immediate vicinity of Ashcroft. Which meant, to top off a stress-filled afternoon, he’d need to pretend to not notice her the entire way to their destination.