How to Kill 101

Schedule:

1st Period - 7:55-8:55
2nd Period - 9:00-10:00 Orientation
3rd Period - 10:05-11:05 Poisons
4th Period - 11:10-12:10 Stealth
Lunch - 12:15-12:55
5th Period - 1:00-2:00 Seduction
6th Period - 2:05-3:05 Gym (Free-Running)

---

Conrad swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and expelled all the first day jitteries with an exhale. Running the back of his hand against his brow, he grabbed his book bag and opened the door. He winced as daylight greeted him, seeping into his half-lidded eyes. He'd been so used to living with just the light of his laptop back home, that he had fashioned his dorm room in the same way--The blinds had been done since last night, and he hadn't seen a speck of sunlight until now. God help him.

The new assassin-in-training (Christ, it felt like freshman year all over again.) walked down the hall and stared at the rooms around his. No names. Only pristine golden numbers, designated according to floor. His own room was room 213; someone was laughing his ass off at him from up above - or maybe it was someone from back home. His uncle and nephew had a strange sense of humor, often laughing at Conrad's expense. Damn Americans. He was half-British on his father's side, and undeniably proud of that! Not that it would help him in the slightest. Why couldn't he have been born Japanese or something? You know, acquired some of that ninja blood. ...as if he didn't sound like a bloody otaku already. No, he did not have hentai on his laptop. (But he did have RAWs of Axis Powers Hetalia, the most mainstream thing out there.) So much for otaku status; he was a grade-A nerd. What the hell was he doing here?

Oh, right. His American mother had failed to read carefully about just what kind of nuthouse she was sending her son off to, and the poor dear had thought that the Italian sounded pretty. Abbraccio della Morte - thank Google Translate for informing Conrad that the name of his new school actually meant "embrace of death". His mother was such a charming woman. Really.

Conrad skipped down the stairs, refusing to take the elevator for a measly two flights. He saw some guy walk in. Conrad prayed that the elevator jammed and got stuck for the next two hours. It would serve the lazy ass right.
~*~
Orientation, ahhh, it smelled like a brand new car - leathery and not quite natural. Conrad squirmed in his seat. He was sitting in one of those uncomfortable metal chairs you always see in huge auditoriums. The ones that fold up and are murder on your back, yeah, those. He strained to see over the tall guy in front of him. The fact that they'd been ordered to sit in alphabetical order meant he couldn't trade seats. FML. What the hell is going on? Am I really training to become an assassin?

"Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, killers and... fodder. Allow me to introduce myself, your principal - Giovanni Sadico. To those of you who are still at the rank of initiate, you may call me Maestro. Everyone else, it's Maestro Sadico. At the beginning of this orientation, you were each given a packet. Please. Read along."

Conrad flipped ahead out of boredom, ignoring his principal's wishes. He squicked. There was an extremely detailed diagram of two men going at it. The top left-hand corner of the page was titled simply in caps: SEDUCTION. That was his fifth period class. Oh hell...
~*~
"Our twenty minute break shall now begin. Ahem... mingle! You may not see the man standing next to you tomorrow, let alone within the next hour! Go, go. Do whatever it is teenagers do. I've the older crowd to humor now."

Conrad didn't know what to make of the old coot. That and no one seemed inclined to talk to him. He stayed put in his chair and grumped to himself. "This is a bad dream... it will all go away when I'm -this- close to scoring a chick. I should go hit on one right now. That way she can say 'yes' and I can wake up and this will all be over." The first sign of insanity. I'm screwed.

[Oh, glorious crack post~ Have fun, Aura-tan, Masq.-kun.]

Gregory looked around the auditorium with a controlled level of anxiety. Hm. My competition. I wonder if anyone else does long range..... He skimmed through his pamphlet again to 'Tactical Support'. As he read the associated information, rage accumulated in his gold-brown eyes. I tell everyone else what to do while sitting on the sidelines? That doesn't sound like what I wanted...damn! I made a mistake! For the love of God! Of all the things I could mess up on!

Although these thoughts raged throughout the confines of his mind, their presence was not made anywhere but Gregory's mind. He exhaled, and sat against a wall. A flipped through a few pages in the pamphlet, and crossed the 'Seduction' page. Wow...was it really necessary to include such an example? He closed the cursed booklet and pocketed it. He had read and seen everything he cared to see.

Gregory looked around at his fellow students. All of them potential targets. The only question really is...who's first?

The stares were unsettling. Had these people never seen a figure of such grace and elegance before? Were they dazzled by my hair of which I deigned to dye hot pink and that went down to the middle of my back?? Were they perhaps enraptured by my emerald eyes, shining in the golden sun? The stares made me feel so insecure and my eyes timidly to the side. But on the inside, I laughed maniacally. They were all falling under my spell already. Guys and girls alike always fell for the shy gaze and slight frown. I was just happy that none of them took the initiative to speak to me as I made my way to the dorms.

Finally, I was where I wanted to be. My routine life of normality was killing my imagination and the only way I could escape the rotting of my brain through boredom was through writing....about deaths. My parents were worried and disturbed, but my school friends thought it was awesome and asked me to write their own deaths which actually disturbed me. Who would want to read about themselves dying?? Regardless, I became "semi-popular" I suppose, but my parents wanted to get rid of me; they thought I would do much better at Abbraccio della Morte. And I agreed with them. I was more than willing to be sent there. A school for assassins? Are you joking?

After their desperate decision, my parents dropped me off at the school and that is when I found myself inside the dorms. I remember my room was so plain and boring. Within the first week, I completely jazzed it up with pinks and blues; a rhapsody of truly fragrant colors (I say fragrant because of how sensory the colors were and their were pink and blue flowers all over the place, too.)



Riley shook his head. I'm too young to be reminiscing, he thought. It was only a year ago that all of that took place. He held a pamphlet in his hands for he was curious to see if they had changed anything. It seemed like the 'seduction' section was a bit more graphic than last year. Riley yawned as he gazed out over the crowd of newcomers. Will any of them actually have any potential? Maybe it is because I have already been through all of this nonsense that I find them so inferior.

With an elegant motion, he brushed his pink bangs from his eyes to get a better look. Nobody stood out. Where was the originality? Where was the risque? They would have to be amazingly exceptional at their technique to survive here. Eventually, his emerald eyes began to wander to the ceiling and he thought of a dismal poem that one of his friends had concocted that related to the deaths of the students here. I wonder if they are aware that they might lose their lives here, Riley thought more out of amusement than genuine concern. To them, this is probably like a joke or something. I guess it will take seeing to believe.

The dream wasn't ending. And nothing was changing. No matter how hard Conrad thought of having Mass Effect 2 in his hands, it didn't happen. There was no magical setting swap either--he was still in the auditorium, listening to the jarble of a thousand other voices. It looked like he would have to take matters into his own hands. Abruptly he stood up. He sighed and swallowed what little manly pride he had. It was time to embarrass the hell out of himself and end this nightmare by rubbing salt in the wound. His logic was ridiculous.

Conrad weaved through the crowd of teenagers, stunned to see a pair of them making out already. Out in the open for everyone else to see. Disgusting. He wanted to rub a bar of soap over his eyes, so that he'd have an excuse to yell about the pain. Of course, there was no bar of soap in his immediate vicinity, so he continued on with his current task.

There was a rather pretty girl off in the distance. Pink hair, shy expression. She looked like someone straight out of a dating sim. Conrad was hooked. He walked towards her, nearly tripping over his own shoe laces at least twice. The third time, he really did trip and landed face first. With a groan, he picked himself up and checked 'pinching himself' off the list, because the pain was all too real.

"Uh, hey there," he began, "Do you want to go out with me?" He didn't waste any time getting to the point. Conrad flashed his best smile, only for its value to be dragged down by awkwardness and insecurity.

Through the great number of potential enemies and prey in the room, he happened upon seeing Conrad, who, judging by his body language, was not enjoying himself. Ooooh, he looks like the hands-down easiest to kill in here. Then he took notice of the pink-haired...Is that a girl? Hm, awfully flat...boy? No, no guy would bother embarrassing himself on such a magnitude by donning that brand of appearance.

This paradox was simply another trouble on Gregory's mind. He decided to discard it for later, and assemble the clues in a more appropriate setting. It was not in him to leave a mystery unsolved.

It seemed nearly impossible to have friends in a place like this. It's a school for assassins, friends may or may not stab each other in the back. Figuratively and literally speaking. Of course, there's an obvious plus to befriending people here...a low-level of uncertain protection..., unfortunately, it was not in him to make conversation. Luckily, no one seemed to be bothering him.

"Hmmm??" Riley saw through the crowd some kid who was slowly moving closer to him, but it seemed that the odd fellow was having technical difficulties with his shoelaces. He giggled slightly and kept his eyes trained on him until he was finally standing in front of him. However, Riley couldn't help to be taken aback by the boy's blatant question (or at least that's what he wanted him to think.) He looked down and to the side a bit while he allowed a slight rosy blush to grace his cheeks.

"I-I really don't know what to say," Riley spoke timidly, his voice slightly higher than normal and very sweet. He reached up and touched the boy's cheek and ran a finger down his face, but quickly withdrew his hand. "You must be pretty bold," Riley added, the embarassment in his voice slowly beginning to disappear into a more normal tone. "You know nothing about me, yet you came up to me with such intentions. You cared not to even ask me my name."

Riley's bottom lip began to quiver slightly and his eyes commenced to gleam in the auditorium light as they became watery. God, I'm gonna have this sucker wrapped around my little finger before too long, Riley thought as he put on his hurt facade. I could always use another human shield at my disposal. He is sooo obviously new here. As long as the newcomers keep arriving, it seems I will be living for a loooong time.

Conrad flinched. When he took a moment to step outside of his current situation and looked at it rationally, what he just did had been a really jerk-ish gesture. She was right. He hadn't asked for her name or anything. He'd just sprung the question on her like she was some kind of item to be bought or won. Well, at least he knew he was stuck. No more second-guessing or wishful thinking. With his hopes crushed, Conrad found comfort in the fact that he was indeed trapped in a twisted reality. Wait, he couldn't find solace in that!

"Sorry! I didn't mean to come across that way. Really. I just figured if you said 'yes', or something I'd wake up and this would all be a dream--" A gunshot rang out. A second one quickly followed. There were a few screams. Conrad spun around and stared at the blood pooling on the ground. Two wounds, both located at the temples. The red liquid was gushing out, seeping from the holes.

So sudden, so abrupt--Two victims, mercilessly murdered. The bodies hit the floor. They were corpses before they even knew the earth. Conrad shuddered but he couldn't pull his eyes away. The crimson hue was almost... mesmerizing.

"Lesson One, my dear initiates. There will be no relationships of any sort while you are here. An assassin knows no love. Such feelings will be your downfall; do not let them cloud your judgment." The Maestro pocketed the gun he had fired and vanished just as mysteriously as he had reappeared.

The two Conrad had seen making out earlier were gone, snuffed, just like that. And to think he'd just asked someone out. Crap. He leapt back and laughed nervously, wondering if the pretty girl knew of this severe rule. Probably; he figured she'd more experience than himself. "Does that happen often? Him appearing out of nowhere and killing someone? Wait... do people die often?! Shit... I bet I'm next. He hated my application..."

Riley stared at the bodies nonchalantly. What a shame...they couldn't use common sense to figure out that rule? Then they didn't deserve to remain students at this school, let alone alive. He turned his attention back to the newcomer who had asked him out. "Don't be frightened; it does happen often, but only to those without the sense to survive. Here at AdM, every move you make could ensure or endanger your life. Trust me; it's been a year for me and I'm still alive."

Riley remembered that year so vibrantly, most of it painted crimson with the blood of his fellow students. Though focusing on learning the basics to reconnaissance, there was no doubt that his innate seduction abilities helped him through. So many lives I sacrificed to save my own....I guess that is the way of the assassin. He sighed. I wonder if I could sacrifice him, he thought as he took a chance to glance into the boy's eyes.

What depth lied within the boy's soul? Could Riley really do it? Turn him into another puppet as he had so many others? Of course the hell I can. I'll keep him with me; I'll enrapture him and he'll do anything to save the struggling damsel in distress. He giggled again. "Seriously, don't get so anxious about all of this. Anyone is a target. The Maestro is a professional, remember? He wouldn't take you out because of some personal vendetta." Riley extended his hand. "My name is Riley Cromwell, by the way. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Gregory looked at the blood with mixed feelings, but had a look of satisfaction on his face nevertheless. Good...I'm glad that was cleared up. Their actions were almost embarrassing to themselves and those around them. He took another cursory glance at Riley and Conrad.

That pink hair really stands out. Like a sore thumb taped to a white wall. From what I've seen, though, that....girl's action were a little overplayed. I suppose only an outside observer would be able to tell, though. Anyone stuck in that moron's situation would've been easily taken by her reactions. He decided that the situation between the two would be interesting to watch. Of course, simply going up to them wouldn't do.

He would have to wait for either happenstance or an opportune moment to seize to make this go off without a hitch.

Conrad hesitated but took the hand that was offered. He could feel eyes on his back, but he made no motion to seek them out. Whoever was watching him was probably amused at his mistakes, "After what just happened, I rather not give out my name. You can call me what some guy called me once, 'dude'." He smiled faintly and went on, "Funny story behind that. I was at a con, you know, a convention, and someone asked for my name. Told him I didn't care what he called me and he just replied, 'Whatever, dude' and the name stuck."

He didn't hold onto Riley's hand for longer than needed. Girls made him nervous. Heck, anyone who showed an interest in him made him balk. He was not a very sociable person outside of quick-witted remarks and a foul mouth. Conrad didn't pride himself on his attitude, but it did keep most of the jerks away - they couldn't be bothered to put up with him.

So it's a poisons class first, huh? Let's pray that I survive orientation. Conrad looked around anxiously. He could be quite observant when not faced with a pretty gal. Then again, he couldn't claim it to be his specialty. He'd gone through a rather obsessive parkour phase. That didn't turn out very well, not because he was bad at it, but because he'd been too ambitious. A scar still ran along his hip, and his mother had locked him up in his room for a week.

Honestly, a tiny cart of hay wasn't enough to break a fall. Physics demanded more hay. Or more brains; who in their right mind would leap off of tall buildings? Oh, right, he might have to do something along those lines. Conrad gulped. His palms were getting sweaty--Thank god the handshake was over and done with.

"I wonder if Maestro teaches all the classes..." Conrad checked through the packet. There were a list of names alongside subjects:

Kyrinth Quagmire - Combat
Lucinda Blackletter - Faction Dealings
Lu Xun Boyan - Poisons
Arthur Hastings - Stealth
Étienne Éxupery - Seduction
Giselle Sadico - Gym

Conrad stared at the surname of their gym teacher. The maestro had a daughter? What a terrifying thought. "Riley, are any of these names new to you?"

Riley smiled slightly as their hands touched. This was proceeding like all other meetings. An awkward situation, a handshake, and then, she would become as a sort of tour guide for the next couple of days. That is when she would befriend the victim and make them into a human shield, having them close at all times to block an unsuspecting attack. Riley remembered her first year at AdM and how she made friends using her alluring nature only to watch as they died one by one trying to save her from meeting her demise. She had thrown up a lot that year while battling tears.

Now, the process had started all over again, but this time, her heart was as steel. At least, she thought it was. Her attention turned to the pamphlet as she heard the boy voice a question. "I don't see anyone new, but I have been distracted with many troublesome thoughts of late and it has scattered my memory a bit," Riley confessed, her eyes showing a depressing whimsy. "Anyway, that was a ridiculous notion thinking that the old man actually had the stamina and time to handle all of those classes. The teachers were chosen based on their own innate talents--what they excel at, to further clarify."

Her gaze settled on the last name on the list: Giselle Sadico. Now there's a name so familiar yet so unrecognizable. Since when did the maestro get any relatives? My memory can't be that messed up, can it? I'm sure I've never heard of this person before, Riley thought as her mind became immersed in strenous attempts at remembering. Regardless, I guess we'll find out at the end of the day.

"And you know that obscuring your name will not save you from death, right?" she asked suddenly. It was true. If anyone had a face, you were dead. Names were of no importance.

Of all the lucky things Maxwell had done throughout his life, it would have been getting away from his hellish parents. This moment he was in right now seemed to him, a treasure from the very heavens....whatever those were to him. Maxwell pushed up his glasses as he scanned the area with his ever-scanning and half-closed eyes. He smiled as he locked his eyes on the corpses that were shot It serves them right. Love is a sickening emotion indeed. Making out in the middle of a crowd of idiot teenagers. Honestly! he thought as his right hand went up to fiddle with the golden zipper on his dull gray hoodie.

He then fixed his eyes on a pink haired girl conversing with a rather ordinary boy. As he stared at the two, he couldn't help but notice the girls' expressions. It was all sickening to him. Men are always into women like that whore aren't they? This is why the human race is so dimwitted anymore. Maxwell then scanned through his pamphlet and found that his major was to be a Sweeper. He was quite perplexed by the sounds of this major. Sweeper? What is this, some kind of joke? I know it's probably more than what it sounds but the term Sweeper just doesn't seem to fit me. It'll make me sound like I'm competing with a swiffer duster.

Maxwell closed and pocketed his pamphlet and returned his gaze to scanning the auditorium. He was very comfortably seated in the back as he crossed his left leg over his right and brushed a bang of sleek, black hair out of his face. He had a feeling this school would be an enjoyable experience to him.

Marie rambunctiously ran through the auditorium doors; the large room was extremely crowded. Students of all ages were gathering for the orientation, which Marie had been somewhat late for. She glanced around the auditorium, only to spot an average, uninteresting boy. Oooh boy, wouldn't he look cute with his face brutally beaten into a bloody, messy pulp?!

Happily, Marie skipped over to the boy, next to him was a being of an unidentifiable gender. "Hi there, I'm Marie Rochefort! It's nice to meet your acquaintance!" She ran her fingers through her flowing, fiery red hair as she greeted the boy.

After greeting the normal teenager, she then glared at the flat-chested, female, guy-creature with the pink hair adjacent to the boy, I'll deal with this THING later... After glaring at the odd 'creature', Marie then turned her attention over to the boy.

She jumped in place and giggled, "So, are you new here, boy?" Her plan was to seduce the boy, she would have him in the palm of her hands. The funny thing is, anyone that's gotten even partially close to Marie has met a bloody, gruesome, slow death.

Gregory continued to memorize the faces of the surrounding students so he could contrast their faces to those they would have at the time of their untimely demise. After a while, the search became wrought with boredom, and he began to weed out those he would use as personal shields. Allies seemed to be highly unlikely in a setting like this, so the thought didn't even begin to form in his mind.

He viewed a boy wearing a gray hoodie on the opposing side of the auditorium. A hoodie. How original., he thought sarcastically, as he strode over to him. A quick glance over his body language suggested he responded more to logic than anything else. Or perhaps his own selfish desires. It was one or the other. "Alright. It has been made apparent by the Maestro that people die here. Ergo, it may be common sense to have at least one...ally to watch your back.", he nearly choked on the word 'ally'.

"Anyway, contrary to what you're probably thinking, no, I don't wanna be your body guard, but I figure in a setting like this, watching each other's backs would benefit us until we become the last men standing. Then we can kill each other.". He ran a hand through his hazel hair, and proceeded to resting his hands in his coat pockets. "Besides, we might be able to convince one of these mindless idiots to be a decoy, should the need arise. So, your response to my proposition, may I ask?". He fastened his black coat, for some reason, he felt cold.

Maxwell turned his head slightly to view the boy now speaking to him and he grimaced at the mere thought of having attracted attention. "...Ally? I suppose you're right on the subject of the Maestros' standards. My response to your preposition is this. Once I see what you are capable of and once I can pinpoint your faults, then I will accumulate my care to aid you in your survival. Don't get cocky about being rewarded my assistance because it all depends on how I feel about a certain situation. Maxwell then crossed his arms and averted his gaze to the crowd of "morons" as he officially dubbed the mingling student body around him.

Better than nothing. Gregory turned around, and walked back to his previous position across the massive room. He observed a new face with the pink haired....girl and the stupid boy who likely asked her out...a red haired girl. She seemed energetic and violent. I doubt a psychotic bitch like that would pull off a stealth mission...although, she's unpredictable, I'll be sure to carry weapons constantly, with her in mind.

Riley raised his eyebrows in curiosity at this newcomer. What was with that glare? It kinda creeped him out. He would just have to catch up with the boy later on. He knew the place well so he knew that the boy would be easy to find. Plus, class would be starting soon. "You have pretty good timing, Marie," Riley stated kindly. "I have other business to attend to and other newcomers to greet. Leaving this poor boy here by himself would have been a horrible idea, so I am entrusting his being to you. Fare thee well, 'dude,'" he said to the boy giving him a slight wink as he walked away.

When Riley was at a safe distance away, he shuddered. "Ugh, what a creepy little girl. The way she emits those negative vibes would give her away in an instant. She'll need definite training to control that aura of malevolence about her. I felt dirty standing next to her. She could be a real threat. Target much?" he continued to whisper to himself. Suddenly, he yawned, covering his mouth cutely with his hand. "Booooring...I need something to capture my interest....

It wasn't often that Riley became bored. Maybe it was the fact that he had already been through this before? Even so, it would be better if he had brought a book. I guess a bit of optimism remained in his soul--optimism that enforced the thought that maybe there would be some interesting people this year. In his mind, he manifested optimism to be a person and pictured himself assassinating it. He chuckled slightly to himself. Oh well. I won't be surprised if all of these fools are eliminated before the year's end. What a shame....

Maxwell began fiddling with his zipper once again going into his deep and sometimes meditative state of mind as he was beginning to ponder how long it was until classes would start. Then he began analyzing the boy he spoke with before, using the findings he found from the boy thus far. Maxwell didn't feel the need to get up and go to the boy again as he was perfectly capable of gathering information on others by just just sitting down and studying his subjects from an observative point of view.

Maxwell finally stopped playing with his zipper, snapping out of his meditation as he came to a conclusion and in doing so, he shifted his legs so that his left leg was crossed over the right and he then began scouting for other interesting subjects to observe. This school should be an interesting place to perform observations. I'll just have to kick back and see how this all turns out for myself. After all, why watch others so intently when I should be watching my own back? Amusing indeed. he thought to himself while slowly cracking a wicked smile.

Thus Conrad was left alone with the latecomer, some girl named Marie. He didn't know what to make of her. Her scary vibes made him wince, and he tried to hide his discomfort behind a smile. His attempt failed miserably. One could tell that he was not in the least bit amused. "Yeah, I'm new. And I plan on staying alive long enough to transfer. This place is... insane." He wasn't fooled by false glory and childish dreams. Conrad knew that he could die here at any minute and anytime.

Survival instincts kicked in and Conrad began looking around frantically, trying to determine who was good and who was bad. His gut told him not to trust Marie, but he knew better than to blatantly state his views. He didn't want to anger her. Praying that his disposition to her didn't betray him, Conrad murmured, "If you'll excuse me, I think the break's over now." Indeed, the Maestro had taken the podium once more and raised one hand. One could only imagine what would happen once all of his fingers folded down.

Students rushed to their seats. Everyone was running around ragged, trying to find their chair. A few had been tipped over in the rush, and someone sat down with a shuddering gasp as soon as the Maestro's pinky fell. No one else died.

"Good. Some of you are beginning to understand the quality of obedience I demand. Now then... Allow me to introduce a few of your instructors. Quagmire!"

A short, petite man started for the podium. He was garbed in the standard robes, a drab gray with little decoration. His hair was just as drab as that, stark gray and a mess of bedhair. Quagmire looked like a ghost, for he was as pale as he was short, and his gray-blue eyes looked lifeless. He hopped onto the podium and placed his hands calmly upon the edges.

"Hello... My name is Kyrinth Quagmire. I teach... what do I teach...? Ah, yes. Combat tactics... combat... tactics... Such as how to wield a blade or the like. Don't ask me about guns. Those are... someone else's job... job... huh... hehehe... Arty, your turn." Quagmire left the stand, humming about some sort of assassination mission he'd went on the night before.

As Quagmire walked past him, "Arty" snorted and rolled his eyes. He ran a hand through his cropped blond hair and started for the stand. Unlike his questionable colleague, he did not wear the standard attire.

"Arthur Hastings, the man in charge of teaching you how to get from Point A to Point B without getting seen. Yes, yes. That's all I have to say. Try not to kill each other too obviously. It reflects poorly on us." Hastings rolled his eyes and sudden leapt onto the curtains, clambering up the navy-blue fabric. He never came down. Conrad assumed that he had just... disappeared.

Next up to speak was a tall bespectacled man. The glasses were tinted lavender. The man had slicked back black hair and it had that greasy appearance from great globs of hair gel. He, too, wore the robes.

"Étienne Éxupery. You may call me Étienne. Boyue's forsaken all formalities, so I could hardly care less if you all did as well. I will be the one teaching you how to seduce your target, be it a beautiful woman or some fat bastard. ...one needs a very open-mind." Étienne walked towards a charming young man and took him by the collar. "Boyue... would you like to accompany me tonight?"

"Wh-what?! Étienne, n-not in front of everyone! Argh, I still have my speech to give!" The young man shoved Étienne back with a surprising amount of force and hurried to the stand. He brushed back his bleached bangs and threw up a peace sign. "Okay, before Étienne rapes me, let me introduce myself! Lu Xun Boyue, that's me! I'll be the one teaching you guys how to mix poisons and all that fun stuff. Heck, if you screw up and get a bad grade, at least you got to blow something up. I look forward to getting to know all of you! So, with that said, welcome our lovely ladies!"

The two women standing at the end of the line waved, one more enthusiastically than the other. The less excited one walked to the stand first and tossed her auburn curls back. "My name is Lucinda Blackletter and I'll be the one running the factions this year. Factions shall be announced at the end of orientation, so put your hands down. Giselle. Giselle! Are you done doing your nails, dear?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. My turn, is it?" One could see the resemblance between the aristocratic woman and her peculiar father. She was a pretty woman, but probably bland-looking without her complicated make-up. Her up-do was pretty glamourous, something straight off the red carpet. Total diva alert.

All I have to do is tell the kids how to climb up things, right? How boring. I wanted to go to the spa later. ...mm, you kiddies are thinking that you can bullshit your way through my class, right? Wrong. Daddy will have my head if you don't do well. So you better. Or I'll throw you in a dumpster."

Conrad was scared. Really scared. So scared that his legs were knocking against each other. But there was nothing he could do about it. There was still half an hour left of orientation. He looked around, wondering how everyone else - new or not - was taking this.

Marie blankly stared at the teachers, she was surprised. So, they call these people teachers? They seem interesting... Well, sort of... She slowly inched over to Conrad, who was only a few seats away from her.

Once she had finally occupied the seat next to Conrad, she ominously whispered in his ear. "I'm going to kill you..." She smiled, "Just kidding!" She slammed her hand onto Conrad's back.

How should I kill this little kid? Should I burn his hands, then shoot him in the head? Nooo... Should I rip his guts out? Naww... Too messy... Should I smash his face in with a baseball bat? Meh, I dunno... What if I slowly rip his fingernails off, then slowly dip him in a vat of toxic liquid? No, too complicated... Ugh, this kid is so easy to kill it's hard to decide how I should murder him!

"Boyue, wait--!"

In a flash, the poisons expert was in the R row. Someone wasn't where they belonged, and an infamous case of OCD was now the culprit for Boyue's actions. He held a blade at Marie's throat and looked up, addressing his partner in crime: "But I don't like the look in her eyes! Just a drop? Enough to paralyze the left side of her body? Please?" He withdrew the blade when Étienne shook his head.

Boyue grumbled and muttered, "I hate the bloodthirsty ones. They make the worst assassins. This isn't just about killing in the most spectacular fashion possible." Conrad stared at the poisons expert, wondering if a personal grudge had already developed. His class was next, too. Oh boy. He frowned and tried to figure out if there was a reason why Boyue held back, aside from the insistence of a trusted friend. Maybe there was some sort of death quota in use--Otherwise all the new talent would be dead by the end of the week for ticking off a teacher, right? And he thought his old principal's tolerance was low... Conrad snorted, wondering if the Maestro had a thing against sagging.

Conrad chanced a look at Marie and gave her an apologetic glance. He hadn't done a thing - he was the one being threatened! - yet he still felt as if the whole situation had been brought about because of himself.

The auditorium was suffocating. The high ceiling was so very foreboding--the wooden beams that supported the roof were a geometric wonder, almost artistic in the way they were fashioned. A gothic chandelier hung over every five rows, the candles burning ever so slowly. Rather than lose himself in the aesthetics of the room, Conrad quickly snapped his attention back on to the rambling Maestro.

When did Boyue return to his place in line? Conrad blinked and rubbed his eyes.

Gregory felt as if he would die of boredom, as this seemed much like a normal school assembly. Except teachers didn't simply walk off the stage, they climbed curtains, said things that were remotely funny, and appeared to flirt with fellow faculty. A few even seemed to be afflicted with varying kinds of personality disorders. Personality disorders, and nut jobs who climb curtains only to never return. Such things were the spices of life in this re-envisioned Hell.

If only someone had not made it to their seat before those fingers came down. Gregory would've throughly enjoyed the brief blood and gore, and the speech that would almost certainly have followed. He began running the teacher's different spiels through his mind.

Quagmire seemed like his favorite teacher, simply because he appeared to be the most insane. Everyone knows you have to be a crazy person to teach stuff like this... Then there was Arthur, man of few words, seemed to be dull, other than the way he made his exit. Spidey's got some competition, the light-hearted thought crafted a few moments of amusement, and then died away. Étienne seemed to be the teacher he'd like the least. There was no way he'd enjoy that class, no matter what depended on it.

Although, perhaps the teacher he'd like almost as much as Quagmire was Boyue. Although his reaction to Étienne's tactics was borderline pathetic, he seemed to have an bearable presence. Boyue's recent action against that...bitch was quite outlandish, though... And, well...he never liked women that much, but Blackletter seemed ok, but he Gregory knew he would absolutely despise Giselle. She seemed like the bitch of the school, and if she were a fellow student, he'd have killed her himself.

Maxwell's smile turned to a frown as he, yet again, snapped out of a meditative trance in time to react to what was going on. He sat back in his seat and heard every word the teacher's said and seen everything they did, though his mind was completely far off.

Jesus. Any less perceptive person would've thought me high. I've got to stop going into these trances and actually concentrate for once! Stupid meditation.He paid special attention to the less than sane teachers and deemed them to be amusing. However the women were more or less, house flies in his mind. Blackletter seemed like someone he could choke and Giselle, well he could come up with other plans for Giselle.

Hm, a Spidey wannabe, a less than sane man who looks hilarious, a womanizing.....and manizing, if that's even a word, jackass, a woman I need to observe for more details, a complete daddy's girl, and finally, a weird old timer walking around shootin' kids. What a weird school! My kind of school! Thus, Maxwell was eager to observe the events yet to unfold to him throughout this school.

Riley had grabbed a seat by the stage. There was no need for someone who had already been through this to go through it again. Most of the second-year and higher students weren't even present, to be sure. This was orientation, after all. To welcome newcomers right? She had only come to watch the panicked freshmen either get killed or frightened to the point of messing themselves. She didn't laugh though, when the creepy Marie was threatened. Boyue just gained some affinity points towards me. Well...it's not like I ever disliked him. We should definitely chat sometime.

Regardless of the humor of the situation, Riley did not laugh. She knew it was rude and that she would get in trouble, thus she kept a calm and collected demeanor throughout the entire drama, a skill she picked up at the school. She couldn't believe how much her assassination skills had improved since she arrived. AdM was definitely a high quality school if it could manage to change a person so much. She thought back to the Maestro. What made him start this institution I wonder? And where did he learn his skills from? Oh well. Maybe I should start a school newsletter and try and get an interview with him. But he probably won't reveal much. And running a school must be quite time-consuming. What was I thinking about again?

The poor girl listened as the assembly went on. She was looking forward to Boyue's class. After all, Boyue's mention of paralyzing poison had intrigued her. Typically, she stayed away from poisons because she was always afraid getting it on her, especially since she kept her knives hidden on her person. One wrong move and she'd be cut by her own poisoned weapon and she would be dead. She restrained the amount of weapons she carried on her for that express reason. Riley hadn't quite mastered the art of carrying weapons in odd places and not getting cut by them. Though there was one place she hid them that was pretty good and safe because of intense practice...