Flashback Teachers

[Victus]

27th Day of Spring, 498AV Tall Johnny's Casino and Cage Fights The boy was no stranger to pain. Growing up scratching a living in the gutters, one became accustomed to it. Scrabbling for scraps, walking on blistered feet, surviving the myriad of sores and ailments the streets inflicted upon young flesh... and fighting. He'd seen his share of that. He'd seen the cane, too. Or the stick, or boot, or belt, whatever his parents had to hand when he'd been in need of "discipline". But the cold, clinical punishment his master had doled out was something else entirely. Starched wood whistled through the air and then smacked across his bare back, cracking across the bones underneath. The boy gritted his teeth and clenched his hands, chained to the stone floor in the room that had become... very familiar to him. It was a cellar, one of several under the Casino, and now shuffled around and cleaned out to serve as a training room of sorts for him. And one of punishment. "What is your name?" "V... Victus." CRACK! Another lash. Another strip of flesh laid bare and bloody. Johnny walked around the two figures: one bent and half-naked, the other standing, cane in hand. "What is your purpose?" "To... To fight-" CRACK! "To what?" "Win! To win." "Better." CRACK! The lash would come regardless of his obedience. He'd learned that after days as Tall Johnny's property. For the first few days he'd cried, even begged, but it made no difference. The only things Johnny cared for was that he suffer, and repeat the words he'd been taught. Victus was too young to just swallow the agony. Every lash hurt. Every drop of blood drawn from him. But Johnny could see the boy was still learning. "Why did you try to escape?" No answer. His bodyguard raised the lash again and- "To be free!" "Ah... the dream of every slave. Freedom. And you would go back to your family, hmm?" Victus panted into the floor but still seized the brief reprieve. If master wanted to talk rather than beat him, fine, he'd talk. "Y-Yes!" "And do what? Go back to begging? Stealing rotten meat and spoiling fruit? Maybe grow old enough to join some petty gang and die in some pointless, profitless brawl before you even become a man?" Victus felt the shadow fall across him. He raised his shaking head, soaked with sweat, and saw Johnny peering down at him. "I... I would-" CRACK! "Pah. So little imagination. Ambition. I could offer you more than that, boy. More than a life of poverty." "You... You would have me... a slave." "Yes. But more than just a laboring peon, like the others you see. One with purpose, and strength..." The businessman leaned closer, voice now barely above a whisper. "... power." Victus frowned. That was something he never expected, or... if he was honest... understood. Power was always beyond him; beyond all in the tent city he'd been raised in. They were the dregs, the lowest filth in the gutters, at the mercy of any marauding gang with steel to hand and mischief to mind. Something stirred in the boy. Some... curiosity. "P... Power?" A low, dark chuckle, and the shadow moved away. A brief flutter in the darkness, as if he were signaling something. The door to the cellar opened. A man entered, skin glowing purple, barechested in brazen scorn of the freezing weather, eyes cold and cruel. Victus couldn't help but gape at the first Akalak he'd ever seen. The monster marched forward and took in slave and master and punisher in one hard look... then pointed at the boy with a cocked eyebrow. Johnny smiled crookedly. Mute or not, Tarak wasn't stupid, or blind. "Indeed, Tarak. This one."

[Victus]

By night, Tarak was the silent protector of the Gated Community. It's status as "impenetrable" was largely thanks to his efficiency and, frankly, his psychotic enjoyment in ending lives. The Dragoons counted him as their most dangerous warrior but no-one pretended that they had any true control over the brutal Akalak. Hence his daytime activities. For hire, of course. Johnny watched with interest as his Victus began his first lesson. He'd fed the boy, cleaned him up, instilled some... understanding, of what the consequences for disobedience were, but that wasn't why he was being kept around. Johnny had plans for the scrawny slave, and that meant he needed training. Victus stood before the beast that towered over him. He clenched his jaw, determined not to show fear. The purple man glowered silently at him... then clenched his fists... Victus knew what was coming- -and when it did, he was still powerless to stop it. There was a purple blur and an impact like a hammer against the side of his head. Johnny winced but knew the Akalak had pulled the punch. Tarak's reputation for killing men with just one was not idle. The boy's head snapped back and he staggered, falling onto his back. Dancing shadows became his whole world, until echoing footfalls pierced them... then a single, looming shadow was over him... Tarak grunted and shook his head, making an impatient gesture for him to rise. Victus did so on shaky feet. The Akalak put up his hands in a defensive block: elbows bent, forearms up and protecting his chest and chin... but with his right cocked a little further back, ready to both strike and block. He nodded to the boy, and Victus aped him. After a few ticks, there was that blur again- -and Victus grunted as the hook sent him staggering to his side... but he did not fall. His left arm stung madly but he kept it up, teeth bared... and the Akalak did it again- -but that time, stopped with his arm extended just shy of his forearm... and gestured to the opening his lunging arm had created. Victus' eyes narrowed slightly. Ah, now he could see it. Sacrificing defence for offence. And since his left arm was blocking, his right arm- -snapped out and thumped against the broad, bare chest the color of a dirty Summer sunset. Tarak didn't even flinch: it was like punching a brick wall. The big man just nodded, retracted his arm... lashed out again, a little faster- -now Victus felt the true sting of the blow as it connected, shaking him from wrist to shoulder- -punching out again with a huff of exertion- -only for Tarak's left arm to jerk in his path, fist slamming against it instead- -and the Akalak's left foot swung out, hips twisting- -shin smashing into Victus' right leg, obliterating what balance he had and sending him back to the floor. Tarak stood over him... and slapped his knees... his shins... his elbows and forearms... even his forehead... and then tapped his fists together. He couldn't or wouldn't speak. Everyone knew that; even Victus had heard the stories about the voiceless monster that protected the rich bastards on the swell side of town. But Victus could understand the gist. Everything is a weapon. You can use them... and they can be used against you. So keep you eyes open. The boy got painfully back to his feet, settling into that same defensive position... and stepping up to the big man. He couldn't hide, couldn't run, couldn't beg or plead. What else did that leave him? Stand and fight. That was the lesson, and pain had been a fine teacher. Sometimes all you had was that option... and Victus was not chained and helpless anymore. If they wanted him to fight, he would petching fight. With a shrill yell he punched out, left and right, one after the other, Tarak blocking both blows with an almost bored expression- -then kicked out with his left leg, the same lock kick Tarak had nailed him with. His shin hammered into the hulk's and once again he felt his bones creak and crunch under the impact- -then Tarak's arm drew back- -and Victus threw himself forward in a tackle, diving under the punch, arms wrapping around the Akalak's waist- Barely even making his feet stir. He pushed against him like he was trying to move a statue, knowing he had but ticks before- -something hard and bony crashed straight down into his back, knocking him down to his knees with a howl of pain- -that ended a tick later as Tarak's knee jerked up into his sternum as he was bent over, banishing all trace of breath- -one big, strong hand snaked under his left shoulder, ripping his grip apart with ease and spinning him around- -without balance or form, chest and back on fire- -until he slammed onto the stone floor with a grunt. Tarak waited. As the boy lay there, he crossed his arms and tossed a glance at Johnny. The lord of the casino shrugged and carefully lit a cheroot, making sure it was evenly ablaze before taking a drag. "First day." He said casually, smoke drooling into the air from around his grinning teeth. "He'll get better."

[Victus]

It soon became clear to Victus that the purpose of the day's training was less teaching him how to hit, and more about toughening him up. He lost count of how many times a kick or punch knocked him down to the boards. He'd swallowed what seemed like a glass of blood from his mouth and he was pretty sure a tooth had gone down with it. But he understood what was expected of him. He panted, he braced his arms against the floor... and rose back to his feet. Once again, Tarak nodded his stoic approval. He even waited until the boy had his hands up before lashing out with a body shot- -Victus dropped his left and braced himself for the impact on his forearm, swallowing it down- -then kicking out at Tarak's leg with his body still shuddering, aiming for the knee, making the Akalak wobble ever so slightly- That earned him a tiny smile. And a haymaker by way of punishment- Victus had already learned his lesson before. He couldn't stop that vast arm and he couldn't sway away from it in time, so- -he ducked low, knees bending, snapping out a left-right combo that thudded against that barrel chest harmlessly- -Tarak kicking forward in retaliation- -Victus braced himself again and bought both his arms down, crossed like and X as he tried to stand back up- The block was good, but there's a level of force against which no defence can weather. Tarak threw out his leg, but what Victus felt was more like a swinging sledgehammer smashing upward into him. His feet left the ground completely and his blocking arms were crushed against his chest. But when his feet landed he skidded, he stumbled... But the slave did not fall. He put up his hands, and in the corner, finishing his cheroot, Tall Johnny smiled. "Told you." Tarak just grunted, then powered forward. Victus recognized the intent in that march: he was upping the lesson. He'd understood within chimes that Tarak didn't let him hit him unless he wanted him to, and either way, he could hardly hurt the huge man. The Dragoons were filled with hard, tough killers, and he tossed them around like empty beer steins. One little slave in a cellar wasn't even a snack; he wasn't even a breath mint. Then Tarak slapped his hands against his chest, face scowling, and Victus knew what he wanted. No victory without courage. Or sacrifice. Or pain. He walked forward, straight into the big man's path, and drew back his left- -only to jab out with his right instead, legs going from bent to straight as he tried to get some additional height- -only for the Akalak to slap aside his punch with ease, other hand whipping out palm first to slam into his chest, shaking his ribs and everything inside them, knocking him back. Victus slid to his side. Head-on was just going to get him battered; better to try another angle. His footwork was still abysmal to the Akalak's eyes, but everyone had to start somewhere. Tarak spun on one leg and lashed out with a spinning kick- -Victus swaying and stepping back away from it, Tarak's leg going right past him- -then darting forward with a yell, right fist crashing towards the big man's kidneys- -but Tarak stepped forward and out of the way, momentum carrying the boy forward, one big purple arm bent nearly double then jerking back- -elbow smashing between Victus' shoulders, sparks of agony lighting up his back from nape to small. Now the slave staggered without control, legs gelatin after that blow, finally going down to one knee- The shadow approached. This was the last clash of the day, he knew it. Tarak would only be ending it one way. The boy snarled and lashed out backward with his bent leg, kicking out only to have Tarak step over it without even noticing, bringing his foot back down on the boy's back- -or would have, if Victus hadn't rolled away, fist crunching and splintering wood instead- -left arm jerking up, shoulder thrown behind it as he punched under Tarak's guard into his gut, once, twice- -then rolling again, finally getting to his feet- -just in time to see the Akalak spring into the air toward him, foot cocked and- -lashing out in mid-air. The sheer force of it was like getting hit by a wagon. Once again, Victus went airborne, weightless fug obscuring everything, so bizarre, but kind of painless- -or it was, until he landed on his back. His legs faded under him, but his arms tried to lift himself up... then the lights went out... and he blinked hurriedly- -just in time to see a purple fist hurtling towards him. "Oooof... he'll feel that'n when he wakes up..." Tarak glanced over to where his employer was stubbing out his smoldering cheroot on a table, then let it just lie there. It wasn't like he came down here often, after all. Tall Johnny rose to his full height and straightened his tuxedo, picking off little scraps of lint and dust here and there, before transferring a small but weighted purse into the towering Akalak's palm. "Give him a few days to get over this, then I'll find you again." The casino owner's head cocked to one side, making his gaze seem sharp as a scalpel. "Sure you're happy at the Community? I'm sure the cage could-" Tarak pocketed the purse and walked away. Wordlessly, of course. Johnny scowled at his back and bit his own tongue. No point arguing with these... physical types. All they care about is stroking their cocks. Even money didn't seem to faze them... but at least Tarak got restless enough during the days to be useful. Then Johnny sighed and smiled down at the bloody, softly coughing form with a broken nose. He snapped his fingers a couple of slaves came in. "Take him to his bed. Clean him up. And when he wakes, tell him to enjoy the next three days. Because come their end, he'll be getting the same..." If you can't hire someone away... make your own.

[Amora Jade]

Congratulations, you've been awarded!

 

Victus

Skills

• Observation +3
• Unarmed Combat +3
• Endurance +4
• Acrobatics +1

Lores

• Tarak: The Akalak
• Unarmed Combat: Blocking With Arms
• Unarmed Combat: Sacrificing Offense for Defense
• Unarmed Combat: Blocking With Chins
• Tall Johnny's Lesson: Stand and Fight
• Acrobatics: Rolling to Avoid an Attack

Injuries

• Bruises from training: Should be completely healed in fourteen days.

Notes: I absolutely love your writing! I wanted to award you more points but there were only three posts; if you divide up your posts you can get more!

If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to send me a private message! Also, please remember to edit your post requesting the grade as "Graded."

With love,
Miss Jade