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KnightDisciple

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Claremont Academy

Headmaster's Office

Thursday, September 4th, 6:00pm

 

Aleksander Nakani was not a troublemaker, the sort to get called in to the Headmaster's office for a fight or prank or the like. But neither was it an unfamiliar place. When you're training to take up the mantle of the man who sits in that room, it is perhaps inevitable that you meet with that man. Or his daughter. Who is also your boss in the field.

 

Not exactly the easiest position to hold, even for a disciplined teen like Alek.

 

Still, Headmaster Summers had called for a meeting with him, and he was far from refusing. Of course, he had paused for a moment when he walked in, seeing not only Headmaster Duncan Summers, but also his daughter Callie Summers, and a young man he didn't recognize. The former was seated in the big chair behind the big desk; his daughter stood to one side of him, the stranger to the other.

 

Alek closed the door to the office and walked to a spot a few feet in front of the desk, where he had a clear view of all 3 adults in the room. He gave them all assessing looks for a few moments before speaking up.

 

"Per your request, Headmaster, I'm here."

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"Mr. Nakani," the elder Summers greeted tersely, instructing Aleksander to close the door behind him with a brief gesture. Though wearing the signs of age a little more obviously these days, his squared shoulders and intense gaze today spoke less of the educator and more of the steely dispenser of justice he'd been in his prime. "Time to begin the next phase of your training."

His daughter indicated the third person standing in front of the teenager with a tilt of her chin. "Arranged for a... guest lecturer of sorts." Something in the way she pressed her lips together suggested a minor bit of humour but Aleksander noticed that she too was projecting more of her costumed identity than her civilian persona. There was a sense in the air of professionals in a shared field meeting, experts who did not need to explain themselves to each other. "Graduate of this school, in fact."

The young man on the other side of the Headmaster couldn't have been more than five or so years older than Aleksander, though the opaque sunglasses covering his eyes with oval lenses made it a little more difficult to tell. He was tall, with a frame that emphasized that height over the layers of athletic muscle clear even through his nondescript blue dress shirt and dark khakis. His complexion was pale, contrasting starkly with the jet black hair appearing from from under a beaten black fedora perched atop his head in a manner that seemed less like a fashionable affectation and more like a permanent fixture of his face. Hands clasped behind his back, he silently looked Aleksander up and down appraisingly.

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One eyebrow raised up at the mention of this guest being a graduate of Claremont. That was interesting information. He considered the individual in front of him. Certainly not one of the flashier "capes" in town, which narrowed the list, but didn't give an absolute answer. 

 

He locked eyes with Callie for a moment, tilting his head to one side. Almost as if asking a question. Then he did ask a question.

 

"Lesson on just one thing, or composite of multiple subjects?"

 

This was not a meeting of the verbose, that was for sure. 

 

The Guest saw that Alek's frame was one that still had growing to do. And when it finished, he'd probably be of a size with The Guest. Similar career paths overall. He was dressed more casually than the Claremont alumnus, but carried himself with a similar sort of mentality and purpose. But in some ways, he seemed more...not rigid, but perhaps wound tighter. But not consciously so. He was likely familiar with at least the basics of Aleksander's background, so it made sense. 

Edited by KnightDisciple
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The Implied secondary question in Aleksander's query wasn't lost on anyone in the room and the teenager's would-be guest instructor glanced sideways toward the younger Summers for the answer. There was something irritatingly unflappable about the minute change of expression, as though the high school student's performance was a matter of idle curiosity but that he wouldn't have been bothered by the response either way. "...we shall see," Callie broke the silence after a beat. "For now, simply some sparring. Consider it a chance to benefit from another perspective."

The young man in the sunglasses made a faint, almost imperceptible sound in the back of his throat, evidently as satisfied with that as he would have been with anything else.

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Alek stood, still as a statue, for a few moments after receiving his answer. In those moments, the Guest Instructor could sense there was more than just the "normal" training of a shadowy vigilante at play. Perhaps the Guest Instructor had read what parts of his file were open to him, perhaps not. Either way, it was irrelevant.

 

Finally, the teenager inclined his head to the Summers, and then once more to the Guest.

 

"Understood."

 

Now there was something else in those eyes.

 

Excitement.

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One dark and angular eyebrow rose above the tinted lenses on the alumnus' face at the little spike in energy coming from the teenager. He took his hands from behind his back and placed them on his hips but otherwise didn't comment. There was another beat of silence, then a second and third before he made a tiny motion with his shoulders that might have been intended as a shrug and began heading for the door to the office. As he passed by Aleksander he pivoted one hand at the wrist, still as waist height, indicating that the tightly wound youth should follow him into the hallway.

Waiting outside the door until Aleksander stepped outside so that they could walk next to each other, the silent man turned toward one wing of the campus. He looked over and down at his pupil, soliciting any questions he might have.

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Aleksander noted the shift in posture from The Guest Instructor. But when the shrug came, it might as well have been spoken words, and the extremely slight tension that Alek had unconsciously experienced evaporated. They were still taking each other's measure, that was all. None of the four people in the room were a clone of the other (in the personality sense, he was sure, and The Guest didn't look like a clone of Boss Lady or The Boss, so he doubted that was the case). 

 

He waited until the actual "official" follow gesture was made before moving from his position, taking just a moment to give a quick but formal bow toward the Headmaster and his daughter, before taking up a pace that matched The Guest's, walking next to him as The Guest seemed to prefer. 

 

When The Guest seemed to "open the floor for questions", as it were, Alek narrowed his eyes a bit in thought. 

 

"Preferred style?"

 

A question of assessment, both of the potential lessons ahead, and of The Guest's personality.

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After a brief pause, the man in the sunglasses finally spoke. "Winning." It took Aleksander a few moments to realize that the response had been meant as a bit of wry humour. The voice was quiet but the teenager couldn't really call if soft, the enunciation so precise that even as his ears reflexively focused to hear the word he had no difficulty understanding what was being said. The lack of inflection made it difficult to read intent into the voice but a slight tilt of the head stood out enough among the instructor's subtle albeit relaxed body language to give him a clue. The high school student had to wonder if he was already being tested.

Turning his eyes back down the hallway, the taller young man added, "Today, unarmed. Acceptable?"

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Aleksander took a few moments to process the answer. Then he grinned, briefly; the display of teeth was a mix of amusement, approval, and a hope for future application of that very style.

 

At first his ears strained to hear The Guest as he spoke, but after a few words and a settling into their current movement (and the noise it generated, however slight), it was easy for the younger crime-fighter. It seemed a test, but one he felt he was passing.

 

At the question, he nodded affirmation.

 

"My default. Lesson is up to the teacher, though."

 

Respect and deference, despite the comparatively small age gap.

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The soft-spoken alumnus nodded slightly and continued down the hallway without missing a step. He certainly seemed to know where he was going, which made sense, but even with the sunglasses obscuring his eyes Aleksander could tell he was methodically scanning the space around them as they walked, taking note of whatever had changed since he'd last visited the campus. It seemed more reflexive than paranoid, a sort of relaxed awareness that seemed to occupy very little of his attention.

Only when they reached an intersection did he pause for half a beat. Turning toward the cafeteria rather than the training facilities, he tilted his chin minutely to indicate the teenager to follow.

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Aleksander seemed to accept the ensuing silence, glad that his answer hadn't somehow "disappointed" The Guest. 

 

As for the alumnus taking in his surroundings, such a reflex didn't seem odd at all to the young "sidekick". After all, that same sort of situational awareness, a constant vigilance (Boss Lady kept smirking when she said that and he hadn't figured out why yet, but Boss Man never explained it, just shook his head and muttered about "kids these days"), had been trained in him from infancy. The Blood Dragon Society didn't want weapons that ignored their environment, and being conscious of what was around you, and what was going on in that space, was just as crucial for a crime-fighter who relied on skill and wits more than layers of armor to do their job. 

 

When he saw The Guest move toward the cafeteria, he raised an eyebrow, but followed without missing more than about a quarter-step, mostly due to not knowing ahead of time the direction they would be going (that is, not directly toward the training facility). He was sure this was some other sort of Lesson or Test. Probably with a capital letter in front and everything. 

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The unhurried pace the dark haired man set brought them to the cafeteria in due time, joining a smattering of students having dinner or simply choosing to hang out at the long tables and benches rather than the dormitory common areas. The kitchen staff were beginning to wind down for the evening, starting by packing up the parts of the comprehensive menu that most of the student body couldn't safely digest anyway but when one of the women behind the long, curving counter spotted the pair standing in the entrance she let out a loud greeting and ducked into the back momentarily. By the time Aleksander and his instructor had reached the counter the stocky blonde chef had returned with a steaming pot of inky black coffee and a thermos with the school's name imprinted upon it. The proffered beverage was potent enough that its aroma hit the younger man with almost physical force even from a few meters away as it was poured.

 

Accepting the thermos with a faint smile, the alumnus in the weathered fedora exchanged brief but evidently genuine pleasantries with the woman who'd recognized him, asking her how the latest crop of students had been while she insisted he say hello to his girlfriend for her. Turning to Aleksander he asked, "Want anything?"

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Idly, Aleksander took note of who was milling about in the cafeteria at this point of the day. It was always interesting to map out the "nodes" of social activity on campus. He wasn't certain yet, but he thought that there were actually shifts over time. Without more years on campus, he didn't have sufficient data to determine if it was a matter of weather or one of unconscious shifts in social groups and dynamics.

 

Of course, coming into the cafeteria proper made him realize he was a bit thirsty and just a bit peckish.

 

"Water bottle. And maybe some mixed nuts."

 

One couldn't go into a martial arts spar full of oily or greasy food, mind. 

 

He did note the fact that The Guest had a girlfriend, and was well-regarded by more than just Boss Man and Boss Lady. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

With a bottle of water and a paper cup of various legumes procured from the cafeteria, the guest instructor continued to lead the way back around to the school's training facilities. Sipping quietly from his thermos in lieu of total silence, he took them outside onto the school grounds and toward the building which stood over top of Claremont Academy's underground holographic simulator. Whatever specific method he had in mind for teaching it was evidently more involved than a few padded mats and boxing gloves. He stopped briefly to look over the zen garden along the way, keeping his thoughts to himself even as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly with a faint smile.

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The silence was made less total still by the occasional sound of nuts being chewed by the student. He also sipped from his water bottle, but sparingly. He seemed to anticipate needing some hydration later. He followed fairly close behind The Guest, matching his pace quite easily. He had raised an eyebrow when he saw just where they were headed, but otherwise didn't comment. He hadn't actually spent much time in the holographic training room. His Boss had something a bit simpler back at Base, but even that was used sparingly. They had only just hit a point where she felt like he could really start branching out in what he learned, and to a degree determine his "specialization".

The stop at the zen garden almost surprised him, but Alek just shrugged it off and glanced around, taking in the calming environment, and taking note of the scattered students using the space at the moment.

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"Mmh. Should have come here more often," the man in the tinted glasses mused quietly to himself, observing the handful of students out on the campus grounds contemplatively as though trying to deduce the story of each. Shaking his head almost imperceptibly, he resumed his walk toward the training facility at his original pace. Glancing to one side to make sure Aleksander had begun following him again, the alumni asked without warning, "Teammates. Friends. Tell me." It was as quiet as anything else he's said to the youth but there was slight difference in tone that implied that this was more directly part of the promised training. Even so he resumed his sciences and gave Aleksander as much time as he needed to consider and organize his thoughts.
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Alek heard the musings of The Guest, but knew this was not an invitation for comment. Everyone needed a chance to reflect on things large and small. Instead he opted for trying to remember what he could about the students he'd seen in front of himself. Names, abilities, other bits of information. Knowledge was power. But when there was so much to learn in so little time, it could prove challenging...

 

He took up the same position he had kept previously when they started moving again, almost as if they'd never halted in the first place. His eyebrows rose a bit at the question, but he spoke up after pondering it.

 

"Roommate is Gunnar. Goes by Solvrytter. Solid guy, good fighter, not subtle. Both friends with Juno, goes by Polarity; she's newer to the business."

 

The Guest knew that Alek meant in comparison to himself, which wasn't hard, but the implication was that Gunnar was at things a bit longer than most teen heroes, too. Interesting, if true.

 

"Also worked with a senior, Elias, goes by Errant. Psychic. Broody. Seems like a dependable sort, though. School's trying out a new system, we're all technically members of Next-Gen, but we've got multiple teams."

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"Names," the taller man cautioned mildly, raising an index finger in momentary interruption. It was to be expected, really; there was a sort of assumption that anyone on the Claremont campus was 'in the know' and secret identities were considerably more relaxed. More importantly he'd been vouched for by both the Summers and Alek had good reason to believe that he already had access to student files. Still, keeping given names and codenames separate was a good habit to get into early on.

He made something that could have been a snort when the high school student mentioned the name Next-Gen but he quickly moved on as they stepped inside again and headed for the elevator that would take them to underground facilities. "Misunderstand question. Not powers, tactics. People. Tell me."

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Alek had the good grace to blush a bit at The Guest's admonishment. He simply nodded, his eyes dropping down for a moment in a seemingly programmed-in gesture of contrition and repentance. It seemed in his eagerness to provide information he had thought requested, he over-stepped bounds. While well-mannered and polite, it revealed an idiosyncrasy that made Alek more...human. A trait that was important, at least in the inner circles, among heroes like the two of them. 

 

He blinked at the second question, before his eyes widened, and the blush returned for a moment. This time, he just gave a nod and continued.

 

"Don't have a good read on Elias. He's quieter than me. Keeps to himself. But seems solid, efficient, respectable. Couple years' class difference, too. Not in the same social circles."

 

He smirks a bit as he continues.

 

"Juno's...peppy. Energetic. Good heart. Probably going to be one of those heroes who's a big peacemaker. Tries to negotiate in fights. Not a bad thing. Just...not as much my style. Teased me about being "too serious". Had to try and explain it's just another mask. Still, reliable. Trustworthy. Hero."

 

The Guest probably could understand that.

 

"Gunnar is...larger than life. Different raising. Has an effect on him. I've heard him grumble about not getting beer in the mess hall before. Not a drunkard, though; seems more cultural. Good guy. Not very subtle, though. The sort you'd want watching your back any day of the week. Also, doesn't snore, which is a plus when you're roommates and keep to different Circadian rhythms."

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  • 2 weeks later...

The alumni waited while Aleksander spoke and allowed the younger boy to catch up a few steps so that he could lightly clap him on the shoulder. "Better," he congratulated the thoughtful youth with the faintest hint of an encouraging smile. Crossing the last few meters to the elevator, he keyed a ten digit code into the number pad to once side and the doors slid open immediately. He entered the metal box with a pair of long strides and waited for the student to follow before pressing the button for the lowest floor. He tilted his head slightly and looked over at Alek from the corner of his covered eyes. "Expectations?"

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Alek didn't quite tense when The Guest clapped him on the shoulder, but he was a bit surprised at the contact. He hadn't quite pegged his instructor for the sort to just clap one on the shoulder. Showed what he knew, it seemed. Still, he gave a similar not-quite-smile back.

 

He followed quietly into the elevator, his mind not being able to resist memorizing the ten-digit code, assuming his short-term sensei didn't obscure the pad with his body. When the doors opened, he was perhaps a half-stride behind the alumni.

 

At the question, he tilted his own head, looking nowhere in particular for a moment. Finally, he shrugged, and, looking out of the corner of his eye, answered the question with a question.

 

"About?"

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The taller of the pair made a small downward gesture to indicate their destination, the training facility below them. "Training." He assumed it must have crossed Aleksander's mind. If it was just a question of brushing up on hand to hand fighting there was little that one of the two Ravens couldn't have just as easily taught him. Even if the goal was simply to provide the high school student with exposure to different styles, they'd made something of a production of the whole affair, at least as much as their reticent natures allowed. He'd have been awfully surprised if Alek hadn't come up with a few possible scenarios for what he was going to find waiting for him in the Doom Room.

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"Won't be the worst I've had."

 

On the surface that was a challenge. But if The Guest had read anything about Aleksander's history he'd know it was a completely factual statement unless he was willing to do monstrous things. And if he had been, the Ravens would not have brought him here. 

 

The smile on the young Armenian's face showed it was a joke. Mostly. 

 

"Learned early on speculation about training was useless after a point. Still. Curious. Only guess that feels sufficient is something more than just fighting style."

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  • 1 month later...

The visiting instructor put an index finger to the side of his face and gave Aleksander a sidelong look. "Pragmatic. Bit grim." On the surface it seemed like an odd thing to hear from someone who had so far shown approximately the same amount of emoting as a sandbag. Certainly he wasn't overflowing with effusive enthusiasm himself, either. On the other hand it didn't sound like a criticism to the high school student so much as an objective observation. Alek's life had instilled certain biases of which it was important to at least be aware. "Curiosity is good. Won't leave you wondering." With a small ding, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, revealing the empty expanse of the inactive Doom Room.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Most people wouldn't catch the shrug Alek gave The Guest Instructor. Most people weren't the sober young man with sunglasses. The young Armenian/Ossetian man knew the other vigilante (that was his best guess as to what, in general, The Guest Instructor did most of his time).

 

His face relaxed the slight tension it had gained at his bit of gallows humor being fairly well-received.

 

He did lift his somewhat bushy eyebrows just a touch, and maybe the corner of one side of his mouth, at the comment about curiosity.

 

"That's what my teachers keep saying. Guess it's not lethal to birds, even if it is to felines."

 

He decided to be just a touch bold, and took the two large steps necessary to enter the currently-inactive Doom Room. He turned his gaze slightly toward The Guest.

 

"Need any info or gear before starting?"

 

Obviously the young man sought to be prepared himself, and help his short-term teach be prepared as well.

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