Description: You just can't escape them. Howard Rust may be hinging on efforts he is hoping to achieve after his work hours are over, but life never lets you fast forward through these things... especially when a mysterious delinquent student (one that actually isn't a student and technically is not delinquent but nonetheless remains mysterious) is to have a talking-to after a frustrated homeroom teacher dumps him on her. Is there more to the story than either of them imagine - including the supposed student?
Some days ago, Farah Tenjou and Howard Rust stood against a raging Brian Battler, upset over not being able to get into King of Fighters... that the two both survived was nothing short of a miracle. Miracles... with all that's gone wrong, there's plenty need for them. One Mr. Rust has his own beliefs about how to go about it, born of desperation and helplessness in the face of things well above his immediate comprehension.
This does not change the fact that he has a day job - something he can't fast forward through while the world around him seems to be going to Hell, one day at a time between the latest bits about his friends and King of Fighters teammates... or just rowdy student behavior.
Not to mention his left arm is still in a sling on top of a cast for a few more days. Brian really did a number to it.
"I swear, what is wrong with that girl," asks a frustrated homeroom teacher as he and Mr. Rust - the latter going down the hall with a coffee pot in his right hand - engage in small talk between frustrated educators.
"Doesn't sound like... like she's the first," the shop teacher mutters out loud, "the hell do you want me to do with it, I mean--"
"Well, you're a fighter, aren't you?" The question is asked with a lace of hesitance around the term 'fighter.' "That you could tell them how it's a dead end in today's world?"
"'s not a, not a dead end."
"Says the guy whose team was eliminated the very first round of King of Fighters," the other teacher says, "did you ever really think you stood a chance?"
Howard takes a very big sip of that coffee pot. This is one of his less desirable behaviors on the job, but he has genuinely established an aura of terror in the early morning whenever his coffee machine is broken or if the local coffee stop is too busy before work. Never stand between this man and ground-up coffee bean juice. This has been long established.
"I swear, you get people like Kyo who give... such unrealistic ideas to all these kids, then they go around thinking they can just forget everything about their future and feel they can stand with just fighting?!" The frustrated teacher continues as the stout shop teacher more or less empties the pot in one continuous gulp.
"Just the times," Howard mumbles as he lowers the pot away from his face, wiping his mouth with his right forearm, "I mean, I'm all right with, y'know, talkin' to her, but..."
"Christ, should I really be sending /you/ to speak with her? Your students scored the lowest in the entire global Pacific system--"
Mr. Rust growls and promptly thrusts the empty coffee pot into the other teacher's gut like a football player would pass the ball. "Don't need any of your friggin' commentary."
Of course, through these ornate halls, those few serious troublemakers are almost never where they're supposed to be - would their trouble student be waiting for them patiently where asked... or would they just simply be content to make the meetings on their own terms?
Sitting all alone in the hall outside one of the classrooms Juni paints a very contrary image. A portrait of a model student with excellent posture and seated demurely with hands resting in her lap, Those knuckles are bruised and discoloured with both fresh and fading yet the girl herself pays them no heed.
Short bob cut blonde hair curls into her face obscuring one of her eyes behind the veil of her hair the other one brown and ignorant of everything going on around her.. staring through the opposing wall rather than at it. Shunned by most of her class as a delinquent Juni has only attended class four times in well over a month, 'delinquent' they call her now disparaging of her behaviour and apparent freedom with which she breaks school rules. The mission itself seems to be a failure as there is little benefit in infiltrating a school for an agent of Shadowloo.
"Is that one..." Howard asks as he turns down the last corner between the two teachers and the supposed problem student. A problem student whose record, so far, might even match that of the almost legendary Luc Schroedinger.
"That's her." The other teacher reaffirms. "She... she doesn't look it, but..."
"Yeah, this is Southtown," Howard grouses aloud. It'll take a bit for that caffeine kick to come. Clearing his throat, he takes a couple steps forward. A loud pop in his knee might alert the student in question before he himself even comes close, "'bout nobody looks like that, they could punch you through a friggin' brick wall."
Oh, he's had years to get to know this fact. Even though he has significantly more muscle mass than a lot of people surrounding him, for example, the comparatively more lithe Marisol could likely manage such a feat on a good day.
It hasn't been a good day for anyone involved in a while, but, just saying.
"I'll leave her to you," the other teacher in question absolves pretty much all responsibility then and there out of frustration - but as far as they can tell, fighters have a better time talking with other fighters for the most part... right? Maybe Mr. Rust here can dissuade them with his failures in the fighting circuit, a cruel and dismissive thought goes through them.
Mr. Rust, in comparison, is a tired man who just wants to get through his day just right and, you know, do the right thing for the most part. Not that these talks with such students have gone all too well in the past, but...
"So, hey," the shop teacher with the gravelly voice speaks to the teenager sitting outside in the hall, "I don't, I don't wanna be a broken record, but... but I hear you haven't been comin' to class... been getting in a lot of fights."
Considering the track record of behaviors of people going wild, though - and given what's happened with Antoine - the first thought that springs to mind is that maybe she might be going through some of the same problems as... those people? She does seem a bit too well composed for that, and yet...
"Is, uh, is everything all right?"
Juni tips her head back and slowly turns it to regard the speaker, her eyes passing over her homeroom teacher without changing its distant focus and looking through him before continuing on to The source of the voice whereupon her solitary visible eye blinks and assumes a normal focus. The girl smooths the pleated fabric of the skirt over her thighs and responds with a flat monotone, "How often do I have to attend?" a jaded emphasis placed upon the word 'have' as if by someone who aims only for the minimal interaction and structure Pacific High or any institution could offer.
The girl stands slowly and maintains the clasped hands in front of her. Whether by habit or display of intentions her posture is harmless and rather sedate but the way she looks at people is that of an equal. Something people in authority seem to dislike about her and find challenging. The inquiry she made seems genuine as she displays little to no interest in the school, students or faculty and yet despite that has waited patiently in the hallway when prompted. So many times banished to the hallway when she did bother to attend the class that Juni no longer sees any point in attending any longer based upon the fasade of this Identity, the uniform and a link to the school was all she had required. The gosspi about her being a delinquent helped the image she attempted to project.
There is a certain unnerving confidence in the way this delinquent student presents herself - an even temper, no real aggression in her stance. The tone seems more matter-of-factly, as if asking for the bare minimum to skirt by the rules.
The shop teacher largely holds his ground, scratching the side of his face with his right hand. "More 'n you have been, how many times have you been in class, I, uh... I don't think I've even seen you before."
Pacific is not a large school. Most people you see and get to at least recognize, in time. This is literally the first time he's ever seen her, which does speak volumes about her very delinquency. His eyes look down to her hands - bruises. She's been in a fight fairly recently.
"I know, your teacher's asked ya, I'm askin' now, but... I-I'd really like to know," the man thinks to himself... can't be from bullies, he'd have heard of it. There has to be something else, but what? "Why do you keep skipping class?"
That one brown eye meets his stare levelly but she immediately responds with "Oro-" and then trails off immediately, quietly her mouth works again almost speaking a word but then the girl seems to clam up and become defensive. Folding her arms now she speaks harshly "What does it matter?" in what is only fairly evidently a case of bad acting. Her voice failing to match the mannerisms and posture. Behind the brown eyes her composure hasn't altered a jot though her interest and the automatic response she had made to his question seems to have put the girl on guard. A young woman that doesn't have time for the rules and yet answers snappily to an authority figure even going so far as to sit in the hallway simply because a teacher she had been ignoring had told her to. Her manner becomes near robotic and closed down emotionally with that reveal, it had been a particularly bad attempt to hide the lie and so truthfully she replies "Some things are more important than others" to alleviate some concern as to her motives.
Fortunately for the young lady, the older man doesn't seem to catch onto her slip - though it does come off as a kind of nervous gesture as she goes to the arm folding and talking about how it matters. His right hand, once scratching the side of his face, goes to his chin. Far as he thinks, she's hiding those knuckles for a reason.
Her acting would be horrible to someone far more observant than he. To a man of this caliber, though, there seems to be a much easier explanation - especially at the admission that some things are more important than others.
It seems, to him, too simple to /not/ be what he perceives it as.
"If you'll, if you'll lemme hazard a guess here," the shop teacher speaks after he clears his throat again, "'scuse me, anyway," he pats his chest a few times before continuing to speak. "I know it's, it's really rough 'round town right now."
It's Southtown. When isn't it?
"So, uh, listen, is it because... you're tryin' to support your folks?" Howard cuts to the wild goose chase. "I saw your hands." He starts waving a finger from his right hand out of habit as he looks down at the problem student. "I know what workin' hands look like. I mean, stop me if, if I'm wrong, but... that why we don't see you?"
Juni stares at rust, eye widening in a reaction who's nearest equivalent might have been head thrown back gales of laughter in a true delinquent. Instead she matter of factly replies "You are wrong, I have no living family." Still little to no sign of emotion "There is no-one to support." There is no malice or notice of a misstep or offence on her part, another statement of fact that has little to do with her. Unsheathing one of her hands she openly examines the bruises "Sometimes they bring batons, chains." she analyses the wounds critically and hypothesizes "I need some guards to protect my hands when I block, if there are no buises then you have no problem?" testing the legalities and obligations of Rust as a teacher the girl hints of her expectations that others will only meet the minimum obligation required.
No living family? The older man leans back to that stare and the factual bomb that is the claim she has no living family. Nobody at all?! His posture slumps a bit with the possibilities - a likely even ground in which to relate to this student evaporating away in the blink of an eye.
Where the young woman is standing on a metaphorical pedestal of clarity of purpose, the older man - the authority figure in this case - comes close to looking out of the logical fight right from the get go. It's a sort of sad look that gives mouthy chavs the sort of inspiration they need to continue to be little blighters on good society.
...Maybe.
"Who's 'they'?" Howard suddenly straightens up and leans forward. "This isn't... this isn't about whether or not it's all right that... that you're gettin' hurt, okay?" There is an emotional misjudgment when he tries to bridge these two concepts of 'they' and 'young lady not attending classes.'
"So what're you doin' that's, that's causing you to miss class?" He dares to close in a bit more, waving a finger like it's a lazily recycled animation on the part of the developers (it is). "I mean, look, if it ain't doin', y'know, part time work... then what?"
Juni casts her mind back over the events of the last few weeks. The snap and rattle of half a baton striking the concrete after it breaks and the look of surprise of the thugs face as she swipes her leg into the side of it bowing the his facial features around the point of impact and catapulting the much larger man away from her. Broken bottles, chains links and groaning men lying arr around the back alley behind the convenience store. The fight lacks the usual flair or excitement of a street fight and any onlookers don't tend to linger very long because of the bad atmosphere around here. Giving the downed gang members a once over Juni goes back to sitting on one of the low walls and sitting a half empty can of tea form one of the vending machines.
Its not the first group of thugs she's chased off this spot and word is slowly beginning to spread... back in the present Juni blinks and pipes up with "Taking out some trash." in a manner that doesn't mesh with her style of speech, a quote from someone else "You could call it a job, If you wish." with the pursuit of her goals and her mission it is not a lie, but it tastes like one in her mouth.
Taking out the trash?
The shop teacher stops shaking his hand and regards what she's saying. Southtown is a rough place, full of dangerous things. How does someone like her become that, anyway? Especially someone who is going to this school? If she has no family to look after, and yet still feels motivated to instead take the fight to the streets...
His mouth hangs open as he thinks about it. The flash of fervor there where the was just a cold distance between the two of them. "Listen, I know that... that you just wanna get on your business, but, I'm thinkin', I mean, I could be wrong. Stop me if, if I'm probin' a, a li'l too deep here, but..."
Of course, it has to be, he thinks. It may have been a bit more than two years since the invasion of Southtown, but that changed lives. That changed so many lives - many things just aren't really the same any more.
"The invasion. From 2009." It's a pretty heavy subject, himself, to broach. "Th-they hit you hard too, didn't they?"
Juni really can't follow what Rust is going on about "two years ag-" A time that pre-dates her life as a doll and agent of Shadowloo. Her body physically reacts to the attempt to recall something from a period of her life removed by Vega, the face of the leader of Shadowloo widening his eyes as in surpised and then jeering at her before her head begins to ache. Beads of sweat begin to form on her face and neck though she is more concerned with putting a hand to her head and the sudden onset of the headache.
Juni covers the one visible eye with her hand, her lips pressed together firmly as well as part of the natural frown she then pinches the bridge of her nose before lowering her hand from her face. "I.. should go." perhaps to the nurses office or maybe elsewhere. The girls thoughts and desire to cooperate seem entirely derailed by whatever reaction had just occurred, the corners of her eyes are pinched and tight. She proffers a Japanese style bow to Rust and hurries away actually in the direction of the nurses office.
"Hey. Hey, uh, are you okay?" It's impossible not to notice the sudden discomfort in the student(?) before him. A part of him emotionally recoils at the thought he may have, in fact, hit the nail on the head much too closely. "If it's that, I, I don't mean to--"
The older man is quieted with her decision to head off, bowing and largely dismissing herself - a gesture she gets away with as the older man stops and thinks with his hand outstretched towards thin air.
This is a troubled one, isn't it - and yet, he himself has been accused (rightfully so) of trying to put a fighting career over his actual teaching one. He's dealing with the woes of his immediate friends... can he really dedicate himself to another troubled person he may not actually truly be able to help? After all, with things the way as they are around the world... the disquiet in the air, that uneasy feeling of walking on something unsteady...
The older man grunts quietly and rubs the side of his head, a puzzled look on his face as the girl's homeroom teacher just comes up behind him out of almost literally nowhere.
"So, what was it?" He asks.
Mr. Rust shrugs his shoulders. "I think, uh, I think it's... really complicated."
"I didn't ask you to talk to her to tell me something I already know!" The other teacher in question throws his hands up.
"'m getting back to my classroom," Mr. Rust holds up a hand and slowly turns to walk off, an odd pop in his shoulder he flexes out.
"Does it even really make a difference, Howard? I've heard about the recent test scor--"
"You people keep sayin' that, and soon I'm just gonna, gonna eat those beans right out the goddamn bag." Howard's teeth clench. They might actually be mighty tasty that way, actually.
Nothing more is said between the two of them as the shop teacher heads back to class, a new set of troubling thoughts about the latest problem student in school while just waiting for the day to end to continue working out the plan with Farah.
Log created on 01:10:46 06/05/2011 by Rust, and last modified on 05:38:00 06/05/2011.