A Generation Icarus High School AU That Nobody Needs or Wants

The Y- Part 1

AYY! I'm actually updating on a Monday!
Last-chapter summary: Tui, Kess, and Con's movie night got interrupted by the Piranhas, so off the Y they went! 
Note: I am a fencer, which is why I'll be able to (mostly) accurately describe a fencing match, but have zero knowledge in any other form of fighting, sorry. And for all you non-fencers out there, there's a glossary at the end of the chapter for the weird terms. And yes, to you fencers, I know usually there's a quick recap of what just went down after someone scores, but in an effort not to send all the non-fencers screaming, there's none of that. Sorry.
Last note: This'll be a two-part since the original chapter was pretty dang long.

Kestrel- still six months before everything changed.

Tui kicked open the door to the Y, Con and I two steps behind her. She called out a greeting to Owl and the rest of the Flight before practically throwing herself into Owl and some poor shmuck's fencing match.
Owl actually ran the fencing program at the Y, and had grown it into something respectable. He was first nationally ranked at 15, and now three years later colleges were practically begging for him to attend.
"Con is fencing tonight! So if you could be so kind as to help him suit up..." Figuring Owl would comply, she whipped around, facing Owl's opponent. Tui pointed towards the row of chairs against the wall. "You. Out. Go."
This time, she actually waited for a moment to make sure he was leaving before turning back to me. She snickered as the two of us watched Owl frog-march Condor towards the gear room.
"He is going to get beat!" Tui crowed, laughing. I smiled, aware that poor Con didn't stand a chance. We stood for a moment watching as Owl, in complete and totally Owl-like silence, patiently guided Con through the 87-step process known as putting on fencing gear.
I shifted, mentally counting down. Right as I hit zero, Tui raced off again, this time to find her boyfriend.
Falcon was over in the corner of the building on the sparring mat, currently watching a match instead of winning one. Tui practically threw herself into his lap, and he pulled her into a hug, kissing her head. They started talking animatedly, and, a second later, started making out. I grinned awkwardly and turned away, feeling as if I was intruding.
And turned right into the beaming face of Chloe, the resident gymnastics/tumbling instructor. She wiggled her eyebrows. "So, Kess, will we be finally graced with your presence tonight on the floor?"
I rolled my eyes but was smiling. Every other time I was here, Chloe was on me about trying to flip. "As always, I'll be watching."
She shrugged, accepting today's defeat.
"One of these days, Kess, I will force you to find the gymnast within." She poked my chest at that, then grinned and took off. I shook my head at her antics and sat down, wanting to watch Con get his butt kicked before finding something to do.
Unlike most of our little misfit gang, I didn't focus in one area of activity. Over the years, I instead just kind of bounced around, learning to carry myself pretty sufficiently in most areas of fighting.
I snorted as Con waddled onto the strips, obviously awkward in his gear. The two were fencing Épée, probably more for Con's benefit than Owl's.
After hooking themselves onto the sensors, Owl waved Raven over to call the match, and, after raising an eyebrow at who he was facing off against, she agreed. I watched with interest, snickering as Con once again discovered one can't lean on their blade.
Raven caught the attention of both fencers before speaking in an effort to keep her voice down. "En garde... Ready? Fence."
Poor Con had barely registered that the match had started before the buzzer had lit up, registering Owl's point. You could practically feel how red Con was, even through all his gear.
Raven could hardly keep the smile out of her voice. "Touch - Owl. One, zero. Ready? Fence."
Owl advanced steadily this time instead of fleshing in, giving Con time to get his bearings. Con lunged, apologizing profusely, and Owl easily parried. Before Con had time to recover, Owl hit Con's leg and once again Raven was calling scores.
"Touch- Owl. Two, zero. Ready? Fence."
The round continued for not even five more minutes as Owl easily beat Con 10-0. Although the Hispanic boy tried to keep a neutral face as they shook hands at the end of the match, anyone who knew Con could tell he was internally screaming.
I ran to catch up to Con as he made his way back to the gear room. Taking his helmet from him so he couldn't run off and ruffling his hair, I made the snap decision to give him some grief about his spectacular loss. "Done already?" I asked innocently, as if I hadn't been watching the entire thing.
He grunted, ears still red as he started taking off the layers of gear.
I laughed as lightly as I could to make sure he knew I was kidding. "I think it took you longer to suit up than it did for you to lose the match."
He rolled his eyes, giving me a patronizing smile. "Any other witty remarks you'd like to add?"
I pretended to think for a minute. "Nope. That's all I got."
He finally gave an actual grin, throwing the last of his gear into the buckets. "Good."
He pulled me into a hug. "Well, I think that fulfilled my exercise requirements for the next month or so. I'm going to watch now. D'ya wanna go see how many people Tui has put into the hospital since we've been gone?"
I beamed. "You know it."

Yeah, fencing gear is that annoying to get on. And ridiculously hot. I can't even tell you how many times I've almost passed out while fencing. Don't believe me? Google fencing uniform or something, and know that that fabric does not breathe in the slightest. Sure, it stops you from getting stabbed, but at what cost?
You do build up a pretty good resistance to heatstroke, though. Anyways. See y'all next week!

Fencing terms that were used that you might not know:
-Strips: Not bacon or slang for someone you might pick up on a street corner, but the, well, strip of ground where you fence.
-Épée: form of fencing. Usual rules: you hit your opponent with the tip of your blade, you've earned yourself a point.
-Parry/parried: Block.
-Lunge: attack.
-Flesh: Haha I'm spelling this wrong, I now it. This is not the kind of flesh one eats. Fleshing, or fleshing out, is running at your opponent with your blade extended. I'm really bad at this, even though there's no reason to be. It's easy to, like, everyone else.
-Disengage: Someone tries to parry you, and you 'lol nope' right on out of there, getting out of it and hopefully scoring instead.
-Touch: Score.
-En garde: At the ready, get ready to fence.