No crying, no pills, just fighting

[Zip]

The gym felt empty and vacant, even the lightest tap echoing off the cold brick walls. The bleachers were retracted, sticking to the sides, giving the main court room so students could practice.
Today was the day that Steele replaced the decrypted Mr. Luco. And it was about time--kids needed to learn how to defend themselves in the real world, with or without power.
He bent over, picking a gun out from his boot and laying it out on the floor, taking it apart piece by piece. He closed his eyes, practicing, trying to clean it by memory. Day to day challenges like this helped, though some might say he took it to the extreme.
Comments like that were always from those who could fly away from their troubles, or burn their enemy to a crisp. Unfortunately, Steele didn't have that luxery, and had to make do with using his own human body and his own human logic.
He slid the pieces back together, opened his eyes, and whipped the gun, cocking it.
He fired, hitting the dot on the tip of the "I" on a Cloud Nine High banner.
The bang exploded, ringing his ears. Swinging it back into his boot, he turned his heel, pacing.
Three minutes before his first class started.
Confident, he smiled.
This was going to be one hell of a ride.

[i n k]

Did you think that I was j o k i n g??

.RONG.

A gunshot?

Rong kicked the gym door open, hating himself for arriving first to this class. He didn't nead to learn how to attack, or evade. This was bullshit. The fact that he was a specialized species forced him into the echoing, shiny shithole he hated so much. It reminded him of cheerleaders and pep-rallies.

But a gunshot...

He surveyed the room, his brows squished together in the middle of his forehead, a usual expression. He'd taken a bullet or two, but his body just spit them back out. Damn metal had given him a shoulder ache for weeks. But if they were going to start shooting at them in school, he might be willing to stay more often and pay off fewer truency tickets.

"Hey, you. Where the hell's the crazy-ass cripple?" Rong stalked towards the teacher, who was admiring a perfect bullseye in the school's pristine banner. "You his replacement?" He spit on the floor, frowning at the clean cut lines marking the basketball court. They needed to put up the actual arena once in a while. "And do we get to hit anything today? Because I'm aching to break my knuckles on a fucking jawbone." His hard, green eyes met Steele's. He looked like a challenge.

Oh, yeah. He wouldn't be skipping this class anymore.

A R E YOU R E A L L Y lookingatme?-!

[Zip]

Rumble, rumble, RUMBLE.

"Yessir. Mr. Luco is gone, probably for good. We're just covering the basics for today."
He nodded to several heavy briefcases, which were full of shotguns, pistols, knives, and various other forms of weaponry. This kid was a hardass, no doubt about it, and he had plenty of potential. Very dangerous, definately respectable.
"Obviously, this is going to be easy for you, but just bear with the beginning people, and we'll reach to your level."
A few girls trickled in, clutching their bags full of gym clothes, giggling to each other. Steele eyed them, but said nothing. Never underestimate an opponent, treat them with respect, and never miss the oppertunity to learn.

Looking through his rose-tinted glasses, he inspected the boy's body. Though the word "boy" hardly did him any justice. He was ready to blow hell from the floor, wanting to pummel the blood out of a living body. Any living body would do, including his.
People like this--borderline psychotic--scared him, but always made for great fighters. The lack of moral discipline and brute strength made for an ever-building fire of testosterone and hatred.
Steele didn't fear him, but still felt the need to keep on the good side. He'd run into people like this in his travels and teachings, and found it better to be respectful and straight to the point. And, if anyone would believe it, brutes were human too. Most would only attack if provoked. The smallest instigation could bring a near-death experience.
It's all about learning how they learn.
Eyebrows raised, he said,
"Hopefully this class will meet your expectations."

[i n k]

because if you value anything,

.RONG.

Rong stared at the girls for a minute, his eyes squinting in distaste at their giggling. Girls- all they did was fool around, get pregnant, and screw themselves over.

"We're using /guns/ today?" Rong spat the word, anxious about the amount of cowardice projectiles presented. "Nothing close combat...?" He felt like a supreme dork, using technical terms. He wished Cloud Nine had a Fight Club. Maybe he should be the city's Tyler Durden...

you'll get out of my way.

[Zip]

Smiling a little, he answered,
"We'll be doing hand-to-hand combat in about a week or so."
He knew how Rong felt. Guns were too easy, and didn't require as much work as much as actual fistfighting, whether it be martial arts or how they duked it out in the streets.
Due to the expectations of the school (and a few complaints from mortal parents), it was mandatory for him to go over this, especially as a new teacher. He couldn't break the rules--he'd just bend them a little.

Switching on a stereo, a light piano trickled through the air. Steele positioned himself, keeping the flow throughout his body, carrying his arms above his head.
Ballet was perfect for balance, although difficult to do in boots.

"I was thinking we could maybe do ballet instead, and get straight to fighting," he said, standing still for as long as he could.

[i n k]

But that was when-

.RONG.

Ballet?
BALLET?
"Ballet? What the fuck...?!" Rong stumbled back a step or two, his defense crushed under the bizarre show of artistic freedom. "The hell, man? We've gone from guns to ballet in seconds flat!" He looked towards the stereo, fists curling into machine-crushing mallets. "I can feel my brain snapping."

He glared back at the girls as they giggled again; they stopped short, unaware of what had brought this scary senior's attention to them all of a sudden. They smiled slightly, noticing he was muscular and slightly hot under the tired eyes and angry stare... "You." He spit the word, causing them to jump. "Don't just stand there, get changed if that's what you're here to do. Just, for the love of God, stop FUCKING giggling!" His voice cut through the air like Optimus Prime's projectile attacks, and the girls blushed and frowned.

Rong turned his attention back to Steele. "Who the hell are you, anyway? And there is no fucking way I am dancing. Ever."

-I ruled the world.

[Zip]

I laughed and shook his hand

Sarcasm was something that this kid obviously didn't speak fluently in. He dropped his pose, pressed the button, speaking to Rong as he did.
"We're not dancing. That's extra-credit, going to the music department and taking lessons."
Setting the stereo down on the ground, noticing more students pour into the gym. He motioned for them to line up. He continued.
"I found it extremely helpful when developing balance and awareness of your own body."

The bell rang. Feeling rude, he turned away from the violent youth, the class needing to start.
He checked off the students, not counting off if they didn't change. If they wanted to fight and sweat in their regular clothes, that was their choice. If it made them fight better, why mark them down for it?

Once he was done, he slid the clipboard to the bleachers, and introduced himself.
"I am Mr. Steele. Welcome to your first actual class of Attack and Evade 101. We'll be doing weapons for the first couple of days, then move on to actual attacking and evading."
While he spoke, he sized up each of the students, calculating their strengths--and more importantly, weaknesses.
"If you feel the class to be difficult for you, talk to me. If that in itself is difficult, there is no shame in dropping out. If anyone feels that they can't do it right now, walk out, and I'll talk to the office about changing your schedule."

Because, again, there's nothing worse than being in a class that you don't like. Especially one that's mandatory.

Spoke of was and whens.