"Boy." The kid blinked, his eyes widening in anger. An almost feral growl rippled from deep within his throat, and he slammed his hands down on the table, causing all the dishes on top to shake. Stitch calmly folded his napkin, set it down beside of his tray, and rose to his feet. Soon, the young Icewatch member and the blind man were standing eye to eye, with only a table between them. The other Icewatch members that the kid had brought with him glanced back and forth between each other, chuckling. The blind man has just angered one of the best apprentices within the Icewatch Barracks, who had several other skilled apprentices standing at his side. This should be amusing. They moved in a bit closer, a large one to the left of the blind man; one on each side of the Boy. The Boy growled again, his fingernails scraping against the wooden table as he curled his hand into a fist. "What did you call me?" His three companions chuckled, crossing their arms, raising their eyebrows. It was about time for the blind man to back off. Stitch paused, and cocked his head, speaking quietly. "A boy. A baby polar bear. A young cub who has barely just gotten weaned from his mother's teet. A feral, fiesty little thing who needs to be shown that he is just a little tadpole, splashing around in a very large ocean." Shocked silence echoed out across the Icewatch Barracks, the cafeteria now riveted on this new show. They knew who the Boy was. He was a young trainee by the name of Jerel. A boy who was one of the finest fighters in their age group, one who had recieved a few lessons from Senari himself. He was a bully, a bully with a temper. But he was a bully who had the power to back up the threats that he spat out on a daily basis. It was well-known that Jerel had dislike for Stitch, who was to be the new martial arts instructor. Senari had once taught them a bit of Unarmed Combat, but it was an art that they used in their Kelvic forms. But now, Senari was instructing them to bow to this blind man? Surely Jedara was being too nice about all of this! Jerel raised his fists slowly, smiling, showing a row of gritted white teeth. "Fine, blind man. Have it your way. Let me show you just how bad of a thrashing you can get from this little 'tadpole'." Stitch cocked his head even further, a light smile flickering across his lips. "Splash, splash." Jerel roared, and threw a fist, his anger finally overtaking him. No one could really understand what happened. The blind man just suddenly moved, a flurry of fists and muscle. His hands had never risen to a ready position, and the reason was clear. They were still lightly clenching his metal tray, the one that had been filled with the cafeteria food. Like lightning, the tray was brought up, barely sliding into the way of the haphazard punch. A loud crack echoed out as Jerel's fist connected, the knuckles painfully making contact with the worn out metal. A cry of pain and anger echoed out across the hall, the young Kelvic yanking back his hand, fury blazing bright in his dark blue eyes. The blind man quickly flung the tray at him, sending it spinning in a deadly arc. Jerel hit the deck, dodging the metal tray by a hair, his two friends hitting the ground as well. Stitch wasn't near finished, though. He hadn't even started. Food had been flung to the air when the tray had come up, and now, Stitch snatched a tumbling roll down from the sky. The first one to react was the one to Stitch's left, a headstrong young Kelvic by the name of Barbos. He was a large and looming figure, by far the biggest of the group, employed by the young little gang for that fact and that fact alone. He was by far the dumbest, but when one was pushing seven feet tall, and consisted of mostly muscle... Well, it didn't matter how smart you were if you could crush things. He instantly sent a fist flying, hooking an arm in a swinging scythe-like motion. The huge fist lumbered forward, and Stitch merely leaned back, the meaty digits missing him by a mere breath. He actually had managed to raise a hand, and guided the oncoming hand as it passed him, aiding the swing in it's large forward momentum. The brute grunted, and stumbled forward, not expecting the extra force to be added to his already powerful swing. Stitch stood strong, leaning forward, slamming his other fist forward. It was the fist that held the roll. Several loud pops echoed throughout the Icewatch cafeteria as Stitch hammered a variety of shortpointed knuckle punches into the ribcage of the brute, which managed to strike deep when aided by Barbos's forward stumble. He was left gasping for air, the breath knocked out of him, the blind man's blows striking some oddly painful point on his body. Barbos gasped and gagged, stumbling forward to finally plant his shoulder against Stitch's shoulder, leaving both men locked. Stitch was fresh though, and Barbos wasn't. Oddly enough, he was frozen, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth hanging open as drool dripped from it. The rest of the thugs were scrambling up from their dodge of earlier, trying to figure out what had happened. Barbos was a mass of muscle. How would a such a series of punches manage to stun him so?
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