some sunny day | rave

✵

Another day of being surrounded by weak minded Kostas bodies and decrepit technology. Montadelo has a refined focus, but even he gets lost in a thought fog watching these retro flight tutorials. Piloting was at the lowest of his priorities right now, but it was unlike him to half-ass. It may not be vital now, but god forbid he find himself behind any variety of hovercraft, plane or helicopter. Anything could happen on a mission, and he knew often getting caught meant it was his head. 

One way or another. 

He knows when to zone out at least, taking cue when they start speaking about flying a retired model of hoverjet Montadelo was sure no longer existed. Phased out over the years of development since his elders started this war, and yet here they are. More than just the next generation, in the same rooms and the same fights and even less hope than before. 

It's easy to feel hopeless, it's harder to continue the fight. They do it every day - whether it be Kostas or Ames. Yet, when one of those Kostas motherfuckers start talking out of turn, he still feels that pang of annoyance in his gut. This class is crawling with them, Monty hadn't spotted another Ames yet. He had started packing his bag by the time Kostas started licking boots, and he was already headed towards the exit once the the guy started talking.

"The video was trash," he interrupted with a sly grin. "Come on, what did you really learn watching that? That our curriculum is outdated?" Monty couldn't help but pick easy fights, especially with how many meat heads were in the opposing academy. 

✵

He hadn't put any thought into why he was picking a fight with the boy, but as Kostas responded, Montadelo only grew disappointed. A sly smirk turned into a chewed bottom lip as he listened to him. Calculating as he looks him over, taking note to remember his face. Usually, he's too stuck up to stick around, he planned to start shit and dip like always. 

But then Kostas stands up and gets closer, and Montadelo steps back as well, watching him puzzledly. "Outdated can still be useful," the Kostas says to him, and Monty looks from him to the instructor and back again. Montadelo starts to think over his words as the other boy continues, "but of course," he says, "you'd know that as a pilot student." Red flag, he tries to guess where that comes from.

"Right?" 

"Right." He says back intuitively, "only I'm a combats expert, mate." Keeping his back to the wall, he doesn't share that he's a spy - why would he? Lying is easier than telling the truth these days, and Montadelo does so well. "If I had a choice I wouldn't be stuck in this class with a bunch of sycophants," he smiles after saying so.

"And that video wasn't outdated, it was archaic," Montadelo states, "I'm sure we'd have better material if our instructors weren't so scared of the outside world." Don't you agree? He wondered if he could turn this brown-noser against his own mentor.

✵

The worst part of being stuck underground is the fact that the people never change. Even when the faces do, it seems like everything is just so terribly predictable. Maybe it's all the monotone grey, but even as the exchange with this Kostas evolves, he finds himself lost trying to guess what will come next. How to beat him to it - there's something so enticing in finding someone's ulterior motive. 

If only Kostas boys weren't so simple minded. 

Montadelo looks away as Kostas excuses the instructors; they're trying their best - try harder he thinks, ever so loudly. "Have you ever flown a real plane?" Asking with a raised brow, sharper than he had meant. He lowers his voice and leans on the desk nearest, "have you even been outside?" Montadelo hadn't either, to both, but damn if he would admit that to some Kostas. Instead, all he wanted to do was get under his skin, whatever means possible. 

Just as Kostas's last comment had gotten under his own. He scoffs before backing back up, "look, it is if you're good at it." Montadelo may not actually be a combat operative, but he had been taught a thing or two through his courses. "Why, do you want to find out?" He says, beginning to crack his knuckles with his thumb as he does so.

All he has to do is bait one swing from the Kostas with the instructor looking, and it's check mate.  

✵

"I know a place," Kostas says as Montadelo clenches his jaw, "if you're brave enough." 

"Of course," he says on instinct, spitting the words at the Kostas's face only inches away. Whispering distance has never been comfortable, and he collects himself as the opposing boy backs up and steps out of the room. Had he known this would turn physical, he'd have picked this fight days earlier - finally, a chance to shut him up. Montadelo catches himself in the second he's alone with the professor, who pretends to mind his own business. 

Ever so useless. 

He swallows his bravado in the hallway, pushing past another Ames student to catch up behind his prey. Cockiness is a killer, and Kostas doesn't look weak either. Montadelo keeps his fists relaxed until they enter the bathroom, tensing up upon his first step under the flickering florescent light. He had been here before - not this exact bathroom, but between the missing frames of light he swears he sees blood between the tiles. The sound of a cracking skull as loud as Kostas's steps, turning around and taking glimpses at eye contact when the light allows it. 

"Really?" He coughs up, trying to cover his anticipation. They aren't alone- he notices sneakers under the stall door as he circles around the Kostas, positioning himself to where there's nothing behind him. And then they stop, flicker, boots sticking to the floor, the buzz of the light cutting in and out. He waits for a long break, and swings at Kostas's jaw in the dark.

[ bathroom fight! ]
0owUbR8hvt200+5000
[ +2.0 ]

The stickiness of the floor gives him away, his boots squeaking as his fist chips the boy's chin. 

[ Montadelo: 0/15 ]

✵

First hit means nothing, it's the last that counts. Montadelo can't move quick enough in the dark to caught Kostas off guard, a quick blink of light and he still has time to look the boy in the eyes as his fist collides with his chin. There's hardly a flinch, broad shoulders and sturdy, Monty cocks his fists again in a slight to fish out a second flinch. Nothing, he backs up, cracking his neck to the sound of the coo's coming from the stall. 

"Real cute," Kostas says.

Monty scoffs, but the boy catches him on the exhale, the knuckles of a Kostas beating his lip in against his front teeth. He recoils, pushing his wrist to his mouth for pressure, the taste of blood comes with nostalgia. "Son of a bitch," Monty takes a quick swing but the boy backs out of it. Instead, he throws his weight at Kostas, slamming him to the wall with his forearm to his neck. 

"To think I didn't even ask your name," he says, blood on his bottom lip. 

[ bathroom fight! ]
NOPf5s4VUP200+5000
[ 5073 - 2.5 ]

"AYE, ARE Y'ALL FIGHTING?"

There's a second he feels in control, pinning Kostas to the wall by his throat, but there's no way to sustain it. He struggles to keep him still with just one arm, taking a swing with his left and hitting nothing but the wall. Once Kostas pulls out from his weight, he grabs him by the collar of his shirt and strikes again, bashing his forehead into the guy's nose. 

[ Montadelo: 1.5/15 ]

✵

Looks as if they've gathered an audience. 

The room spins with the next hit, Montadelo recoiling to the center space of the bathroom. An audible cracking continues from the flickering light but in the glimpses he sees another boy in the corner of the room, startled at the sight and yelling "FIGHT! YOO, THERE'S A FIGHT!" There's a second Monty lets his guard down, shell shocked with the knowledge of this being a public ordeal. 

Great. Look what you've dragged me into. Monty snaps back to Kostas - might as well continue the show. It all feels painstakingly familiar, the proverbial haunting of a fight gone wrong the first time. He didn't want to kill this boy; just shut him up.

"Your name, big guy?" It's hard to focus on his face with the newfound shouting. 

"It's asshole, remember?"

Montadelo charges at him again, wrestling for dominance against a stall door.

[ bathroom fight! ]
WAaxCzLkR3200+5000
[ +3.5 ]

"YOU KNOW I'M IN HERE RIGHT?! HELLO??" 

The two catch each others' fists in their collars, tugging at each other until Monty is able to garner the upper hand. After a few seconds struggle, he pulls him from the wall and throws him onto the floor, straddling on top and meeting each other with weak hits. There's a hunger to his power dominance - tyrannical in the way he feels the need to win. As Kostas tries to push him off, Monty slams his balled fists into the boy's gut. There's a flicker to the light as he strikes him twice more, aiming to break his nose as the boy struggles beneath him. 

Something to leave a mark, remind this boy not to fuck with Ames again. 

[ Montadelo: 1.5/15 ]

✵

The voice of the Kostas dean booms through the hallway - he can tell exactly who it is by the way the yellow shirts part like wax to a saw. Montadelo beams with pride sitting atop one of their own, quite literally placing himself above them; he was winning. A raging hunger settles over him, waiting for the dean to catch sight of how these events unfolded. There was euphoria in it, proving himself so adamantly. 

That was, until the Kostas unbalanced him, maneuvering his boots beneath his ass and prying Montadelo from atop him. He catches himself bluntly on the floor, skirting to his side and bruising his elbow. The Kostas assaults him with horizontal kicks, catching him in the chest and below the belt, dirty. He groans and grovels before catching his footing, pushing himself off the disgusting floor and Kostas follows not soon after. 

"Gah!" He lets out, being caught by the throat mid-lunge at the Kostas boy.

Without noticing, the dean had interrupted their fight, collecting Montadelo by the collar of his shirt. It choked him, the tight undershirt digging into his adam's apple, he clawed at it as the Kostas boy gathers himself as well. After a moment passes, the dean unhands him, allowing Monty to regain his breath and his composure. The lecturing begins right then and there, the crowd of students backing up and the stow-a-away smoker sneaking out while he still could. As the scene cleared, it turned into just Kostas by the sink, Montadelo with his arms crossed, the dean droning on and the pilot's professor baring witness to it all, oblivious on how this all started.

Of course.

Yawn --

[ bathroom fight! ]
dIPPt9djZD200+5000

200+5000
[ really?! ]

"...really?!" The dean scoffs up as he catches Montadelo again, fists balled and restrained in the dean's grasp. Sure enough, if the dean had waited just a second longer, Monty would have cured his boredom with the impact of his fists on the Kostas's - "this fight isn't over!" He spits, half-empty threat thrown out without half a thought to it. "Steel, to my office," the dean commands, shoving Montadelo towards the bathroom exit.

"You're not my dean," he retorts, a disgusted scowl plastered across his face.

"I don't care," the dean responds.