mutated

chapter two: when the fuck did ninjas actually exist?

It's a wonder what a shoe can do.

The ninja guy whirled on me, and I muttered "oh shït," under my breath. "Halloween is next week, loser!" He began to run towards me, and I threw another shoe at him, before running to hide behind a chair. He looked at the flying shoe in annoyance, and as he began to stalk towards me, I waited till he got near.

Two meters.

One meter.

I lifted the chair, legs pointing towards the attacker, and then charged. He swept away, and as I was pushed to the floor, I rolled onto my front, and as he punched, he hit the hard plastic of my back brace.

Saved of the worst torture device of my life. Oh, the irony.

By now, the rest of the class had stopped hiding, and with a loud battle cry, Ryan Yip threw his mouse at the assailant. The rest of the boys charged behind him (what a surprise, I never saw Ryan Yip to be a leader,) holding chairs and keyboards as weapons. "For the Motherland!" Jay cried, and most of the boys answered the call. What was that from anyways? I knew they played this other game called Rainbow Six or something, but I never got why they began obsessed with Russian.

The man's gloves suddenly became studded, and some of the boys' paces slowed. "Nani?" Adrian asked.

Oh, and that too. Why do they keep saying that?

The girls in the corner immediately pulled open the drawers and started throwing things at the black figure as well. It was a rare sight to see everyone joining in, true, some did less than others, but it was the effort that counts.

Guitar clamps, picks, glockenspiels, xylophone sticks, everything was being thrown. It was like absolute chaos had descended into the room. The boys had begun to not just throw the chairs and keyboards, but they actually began to whack the poor man with their musical equipment.

I was still in the other corner, next to Meredith's unconscious body, and glanced at the drum kit next to me. Perfect. I ran over, tugging off the cymbal and high hats, and tossed it towards the man, Captain America styled. It hit him square in the chest (does perfect aim magically come in crisis?) and he stumbled, but before he could reach for it, Ryan Lam had caught it as it bounced off and proceeded to bash his face with the cymbal. I threw a few more, and the guys caught it (seriously, in dodgeball they can never catch the ball, and now they catch a fücking cymbal? Where is the logic?), and began to swing them as well. I guess a cymbal was a better weapon than a laptop.

For once, we actually felt like we were winning, until the man began to fight back. How could I tell it was a dude except for the fact he didn't have breasts?

One of the boys, I couldn't tell who, probably either Jay, Martin or Anson, nailed the guy in between the legs. Hardly. Painfully.

The guy had recovered fairly quickly and was beginning to knock us out. Not surprising, since it was probably safe to say we weren't the fittest and most sporty class of the year. One by one, our teenage 'warriors' fell, and the only ones still standing weren't surprising. Evan, Elliot, and Alpha.

By now, I had run to join the fray, before I noticed something sticking out of the guy's pants near his shin. A handle. I ran towards him, and as he swung a fist towards me, I hit the ground and rolled. It was a tad bit uncomfortable as the plastic brace dug into my skin, but I managed to pull the handle from his gear, revealing a knife.

It hardly had any grooves, just a sharp slick edge, a well-balanced blade in my hand. It was about the length of my forearm and was a badass matte-black. The handle-grip was a dark grey, with a slight silvery tint to it. I grinned, as I got back up behind him, I slashed the knife across his back, making him stumble. Alpha took this distraction to deliver one of his favorite kicks that he often directed at Winter, striking the man square in the face.