Physical Education

As it had been on Monday, the gym was arranged into an arena... so it came as a surprise when their teacher announced that instead of dodgeball, they'd be running laps. The way that Conroy glared at John specifically during the announcement was not lost on him.

Coach Conroy was part of the reason that Frank had never faced real consequences for his bullying. The sadistic gym teacher held a personal disdain for the 'weak nerds' that populated the academy, and went out of his way to aid and abet the **** of power by his favorites: the football team. Any students that tried to speak up found themselves the prime target during the next round of dodgeball, or had their claims dismissed as salacious allegations contrary to Conroy's provided alibi. Of course, it helped that the Ashcroft Stallions' win record was unmatched in the state. People were willing to turn a blind eye to Frank and his cronies’ misdeeds, at least... as long as they won.

The altercation that morning had tipped the balance. John had no doubt that Frank's injury would prove crippling, he'd seen to that. It was likely the burly meathead would never properly throw again, a loss the team could not sustain... and that in turn could mean the end of Conroy's tenure at Ashcroft. Few coaches could survive the loss of a star player between seasons, and Conroy had little social capital to expend in keeping his job. Undoubtedly, the coach had figured that out... and knew who to blame.

The class was herded past the annex building to the football field, which lay nestled at the corner of the street block that Ashcroft dominated. It was the area of the school that John liked least; there were only a few scant trees and a rather ugly 'stadium'. Its tall metal benches were uncomfortable at best, jutting out around the field as if a temple to the sanctioned **** that Ashcroft's wealthier families enjoyed. It was a place that glorified people like Frank, and John hated it for that.

As they walked in, he surveyed the stands with Astral Observe. The football field was… unusual, effectively the opposite of the theater. There were no leylines or strands of magic, just barren soulless rock, artificial grass and metal. It was as if he were standing in a null zone.

Coach Conroy loudly cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the gathered students, "Listen up! We'll be doing something different today, to keep you all on your toes." He pulled a fistful of paper slips out of a pocket and continued, "Instead of the usual fifteen laps, we're gonna do a little lottery. Each of these has a number between five and twenty-five. You'll take turns pulling one out of my hat and whatever you've got, that's how many you run!" Conroy pulled off his Stallions cap and dumped the papers into it, then pointed at a random student. "You first."

One by one, students were called up and received their burden. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty... As the coach called up everyone but John, the dreaded twenty-five remained somewhere in the hat, and Conroy's plan became clear. He was going to **** John to draw last and had a way to ensure the worst possible result. Sure enough, when his name was called, John saw the coach's free hand drop something into the hat.

He gritted his teeth. It was a petty punishment from a petty man, but there wasn't much John could do about it. The coach was in power here, and his spells weren't subtle enough to tilt that balance in his favor. Except maybe one... he looked down at Conroy's left fist, which tightly clutched a slip of paper. It'd be a gamble, but John had no other cards to play. He took the hat in one hand, fingers outstretched to touch against the coach's meaty digits. As he grabbed the last remaining slip, John cast Theft.

None of the Conroy's clothes vanished, to his great relief, but when he glanced down, the coach was still holding the paper. Ah well, it'd been worth a try. John pulled the last slip out of the hat and unfolded it. Unsurprisingly, it read 'twenty-five'.

"Now that's a real shame, isn't it?" Conroy asked, leaning in and growling menacingly.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

John crumpled up the paper and shoved it in a pocket, refusing to look the coach in the eye as he turned to head out to the football field.

He set a reasonable jogging pace for the laps, trying to keep from burning out his limited stamina too quickly, but not so slowly that the coach would yell at him for it. John had to admit, his endurance was a bit of a liability. Over the past few days he’d drastically improved his physical stats, and felt more capable with every improvement… but his endurance was still his lowest attribute at 11. It would be a good idea to try to bring it up to parity with his next level up.

John glanced at the top of his character sheet and grinned. 950 Experience. It was time to try pressing the ‘level-up’ button. He conjured up a mental image of The Fool and invoked Fool’s Wit.

Ding!
You have leveled up!
Level 6 -> Level 7
+5 Unallocated Stat Points
+1 All Stats

He wasted no time in pumping all five points into his endurance, bringing it up to nearly tie with his strength and wisdom. His maximum health jumped up by 50 hp, an increase of almost 60%... but aside from the numerical increase, John didn’t feel all that different. Hopefully it was just ‘under the hood’ and he’d gained the stamina he needed.

John quickly assessed the rest of his stats in the aftermath of his level-up bonus. Charisma was the only attribute lingering below fifteen now and probably deserved some points next time he leveled… but it was hard for him to justify investing resources into something with no clear-cut benefit. Maybe two points; that couldn’t hurt.

Dismissing the window, John let his mind wander as his legs carried him around the field. It bounced from one thought to the next; what had the nightgaunts wanted with him? They’d tried to capture him, not kill… and there was the fourth unseen member of the group that had escaped to consider…
How was he going to deal with the fact he kept missing class? Moira and Erica did it often too, they must have some way to justify their absences. He could ask them.
Speaking of, could he get Moira to blow him again? She hadn’t exactly put up a lot of resistance to the idea… the paladin was an enigma that he had too few clues to solve. Maybe if he better understood what her ‘perversion’ was…

He shook his head to clear the last thought before his recollection of the events in the sound booth gave him an erection. It was difficult enough to run the laps without one. Pushing the hot redhead out of his mind, a different girl entered it… Erica. Time had cleared his head and the endorphin rush of getting some proper exercise had him in a good enough mood to admit that his first reaction had been a bit… overboard. He didn’t know why the berserker had kept her planned move a secret, but surely there was a reason for it. After everything they’d been through together he owed her enough to hear her out. If he didn’t like whatever justification she gave… well he’d only have to deal with her for a little while longer.

John hoped her reason was a good one.

Turning the corner on his ninth lap, John’s legs were starting to burn. His new endurance allowed him to push through it and keep going, but another sixteen laps were starting to look like a daunting punishment. It only got worse with each consecutive journey around the field. By thirteen he’d started to slow his pace, taking things easier to make the most of his finite energy.

"Hey! No slacking off, Newman! I'm watching you!" his teacher yelled from the bleachers.

Are you... fuck off!

"I said move it!"

John swore under his breath and increased his jogging pace back to the speed he'd held before. Lap after lap, his stamina faded. By the seventeenth, most of the other students were milling about or had retreated to the bleachers. By twenty, he was alone, panting for breath and muscles screaming at him for a break. The last five were agony, plain and simple.

When he crossed the line for the twenty-fifth time, it was with an exhausted joy... one that was strangled when coach Conroy blocked his path and pointed back out at the field. The burly man's expression was torn between pig-headed fury and shock. Clearly, he hadn't expected John to manage ten, much less the full punishment.

"Another," Conroy ordered.

John stared at him incredulously, surely, he wasn't serious! The fat finger continued to point at out at the dirt track around the football field... it was clear he was.

"No."

A vein bulged on the coach's neck and his expression hardened. "What did you say?"

John pulled the paper out of his pocket and held it up, ignoring the way his lungs burned as he spoke, "This says twenty-five. I've done twenty-five. I'm done."

"You're not done until I say you are, Newman..."

"Oh? What're you going to do?" his words were like a slap across Conroy's face and John savored it. "I'm leaving."

A meaty hand grabbed onto John's shoulder, almost causing his knees to buckle, but fury kept him upright, "I said, you're not done until-"

The bell rang in the distance, signaling the end of the school day and John stepped to the side. He grinned at the sadistic teacher and shrugged, "Looks like I am." Without waiting for a response, John walked away from the teacher as quickly as his legs would take him.

Once enough distance had been put between him and the football field, John sighed, all the energy in his body fading out. The euphoric rush that he'd gotten from defying Conroy was just about the only thing keeping him standing as he leaned against the annex building. He felt good... Sure, there would be a reckoning for so fragrantly disregarding a teacher's authority, but that'd come later. For now, he was just savoring the moment.

The rush faded, taking with it a soothing heat that he hadn't been aware of. His body hurt, specifically... everything hurt. Muscles that John didn't even know he had were sore. His throat felt like tiny claws had savaged it and his feet were smashed into insensate bricks of flesh. Collapsing into the wall, his fingers dug against the wood. Arms shook as he tried not to fall to his knees.

Achievement Unlocked! - "Feel the Burn"
Push yourself to your limits, then well past them. Limits exist for a reason.
+1 Endurance

John took slow breaths, holding onto the last bit of energy that he could until the shaking, burned out, exhausted sensation passed. He closed his eyes and tilted back his head to touch it against the pillar behind him. It took several minutes for him to start feeling his toes again.

That popup wasn't kidding...

Once he was ready, John pushed himself up to his feet and staggered a few steps forward. The worst of the exhaustion faded quickly, though his legs remained painfully sore. He’d be feeling that tomorrow morning.

A couple students gave him an odd look as they passed by, leaving the annex building. Right, the day was over… which meant it was time for him to start searching. There was still one cache and the anomalies left to find, and a few places he could look.

Since he was already there, John stared his search anew with the sciences annex. Most of the labs were open, though they were populated with some of the members of the clubs that used them. Rocketry, robotics, and a few other teams all working on projects for various competitions. He ducked his head in to each classroom just long enough to take a quick look around. Nothing stood out, until he examined the empty computer lab.

Tucked away, almost out of sight, was a dull black box about the size of a suitcase. It wouldn’t have been of note if not for the way it pulsed in the ethereal spectrum. With Astral Observe toggled, brilliantly colored lines lit up and traced across the case in patterns that resembled circuitry. John had to admit, it fit the bill of ‘oddity’.

He walked over and carefully removed it from between two shells of incomplete tower computers, placing it on a nearby desk. Examining the case from all sides revealed little more; there was no obvious way to open it, or any seam at all to follow. Maybe Observe would help.

Gorbachev Drone Control Platform
A portable master control unit and three specialized drones (Healing, Analysis and Combat) developed by the child-prodigy of the Gorbachev bloodline.
[Biometrically Locked]

John hurriedly put the box back where he found it. He only knew one person with the name ‘Gorbachev’ and was really trying not to get on her bad side… A ping sounded from his phone and he winced.

Danielle K. (15:42): John, I would appreciate it if you did not interfere with any of my equipment. Further invasions of my privacy will result in me re-evaluating the intent of your actions thus far. This message is prime-encrypted so only the designated viewer can perceive it.

It was ironic to John. A woman who was actively spying on him was now lecturing him on privacy!

John N. (15:42): Sorry about that. It won’t happen again, I just thought your… uh… box might be one of my quest objectives.

He checked his Progress Screen, the drone case had indeed counted as one, leaving two left to be discovered.

John N. (15:43): For what it’s worth, it was?

There wasn’t any reply from Tricia and John wasted no more time in leaving her things alone. While he had his phone open, John **** himself to read the messages he’d ignored from earlier.

Erica C. (12:24): I talked to Moira. Sorry. I shouldve told you about the move.
Erica C. (12:25): Cmon dude. I didnt mean to hurt your feelings. I just didnt have time to bring it up or anything. How about I fill you in tomorrow?

Erica C. (12:41): John I need you to listen to me. Lorelei just told me to warn you about an eyeless darkness with fingers of dreams and something about a red curtain. Be careful ok?

Erica C. (13:01): Where are you right now? Moira said she couldn’t reach you.
Erica C. (13:02): John?
Erica C. (13:05): Hang tight dude. Cavalrys on its way.

His expression fell as he read the messages, for all the distrust he’d placed on her, Erica had tried to warn him about the barrier. She might even have been the reason Moira showed up… and if so then he owed his life to the berserker. John felt strange, kind of happy, in a way.

John N. (15:46): Thanks for trying to warn me and for sending Moira. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. See you tomorrow.

After a few seconds he followed it up with another message:
John N. (15:47): Seriously… thanks for looking out for me.

Several minutes passed without a reply and John’s heart sunk a bit. He’d repaid Erica’s trust with senseless anger and it wouldn’t be a surprise if she didn’t want to talk to him. He could only hope that she’d still be willing to talk tomorrow.

He almost didn’t notice the chime his phone made as he left the building, but when he looked at the newest message it put a smile on his lips.

Erica C. (15:51): Anytime dude. See you tomorrow.

After the annex came the gymnasium. The arena from before was still set up, likely Conroy wouldn’t bother to have the benches moved back to the walls for a day or two. The man himself was nowhere to be found, and, aside from a couple students playing one on one basketball, it was oddly empty for a Wednesday.

When it became abundantly clear that there was nothing whatsoever of value on the gym floor, he descended the stairs to the showers and locker-rooms underneath. Checking the men’s shower took only a few quick minutes; nothing. It was when he passed the female locker room that John hesitated.

The door had been left slightly ajar, showing just enough of the inside to reveal a total absence of students. It wasn’t impossible that the Developer would’ve hidden a cache or oddity there… was it? Everything thus far was in places he could get to, arguably places he was supposed to be, if one counted the sound booth in that regard. Would this count too?

Going in was an incredibly risky move, if he tried it. The academy reacted harshly to anyone found committing sexual misconduct and expulsion was the only punishment they used. He’d even heard a rumor that Vanessa had gotten someone kicked out on day one for ‘groping her’… before she’d turned her attention on him.

He balanced the potential danger against the rewards. Ideally there would be something of value inside, but was a cache… three items and 200 experience worth potential expulsion? On the other hand, did he care? John hardly payed attention in class anymore, not when he had more important magical endeavors to focus on…

It’ll just be a second. In, look around, get out.

John pushed the door open as quietly as he could and slipped inside. The women’s changing room was laid out the same as the men’s, lines of lockers and benches interjected between them. No windows, obviously, with white fluorescent bulbs providing all the illumination anyone could want or need. Along one wall the lockers ended prematurely, and the floor changed from a plastic-mat substance to tiles. The entrance to the showers.

To his immediate terror, there was a sound coming from them. Not a roar of water or the noise of a crowd thankfully, but the sound of one shower, at least. As he stood, frozen next to the door, the shower’s occupant started humming. It was a strange little ditty, set in the minor key and it felt… off. John wondered who they were.

Surveying the place quickly with Astral Observe, John was disappointed to find nothing of value. The risks of this were starting to look a lot less… worthwhile. He turned around to leave, when he noticed an opened locker just to his left. Curiously, he glanced in.

Those earrings were familiar... wait. Vanessa. The locker belonged to Vanessa Hawthorne. Presumably she was the one in the shower too!

John grinned, this was the perfect opportunity to enact a bit of **** on the bitchy cheerleader, the only questions were what, and… he looked back at the still-open door…