A boy sat in a room, drawing in a book. oblivious to his surroundings, clearly, else he would have noticed sooner. The real tip off in the end, came when the lovely natural light spilling from the window started to disappear, a shadow looming over him and his sketch book.

"Hello Persi..."

The cause of the shadow was speaking. It was strangely joyful sounding for a dark, looming shadow. The sort of voice you expect from someone who knows they've won. "Welcome to remedial Gym class."

Cafas strolled casually around in front of Persi. He smiled down on the boy. "Your attendance last semester was frankly appalling. To the principals class and everything. That was a mistake." In theory it was a mistake. In Practice it was its own brand of wisdom. Surely no-one could be worse than CS? They would see.

You're mine now.

"You have exactly 60 seconds to get your stuff packed before we find our way outside like last time."

He would stand here and watch.

"Unless you don't very much like our school?"

Barely veiled threat.

Persi really needed to learn how to remember voices better so he could recognize them. At this point, he was learning that basically any voice was ominous, unless it was Aiden or Andrea. And he was pretty sure they could be ominous too, if they wanted. Aiden definitely could. Andrea... well, she had snakes for hair; that was a pretty good start to being ominous, if she ever wanted to. And Kaitlyn... yeah, the girl could throw explosions around; that was ominous. This particular voice he didn't recognize, but it was clearly trying to sound ominous. Also, was speaking to him. Both were good reasons to be worried.

Oh. Yeah, that was as good a source as any for ominous. Persi gave the guy a half bored, half irritated glare once he got around to standing where Persi could see him. "Busy. Come back later."

His opinion had no effect, as Persi had expected. Oh well. "Last semester? I've been here like, two weeks. Also, how about no?" The pencils were set down, and the sketchbook had been on the table next to the chair anyway, so they were safe while Persi folded his arms and frowned at the guy. Persi had no doubt that the guy would be dragging him wherever he felt like anyway, but he still wasn't going to agree to it.

"I don't much like school in general. I'm sure you understand that." Considering how much the guy liked saying that Persi was just like him only with everything wrong, he'd better. "If you're nearly as like me as you seem to enjoy claiming, at least."

"Don't worry, I know. Turns out some people think that's good enough reason for you to do Summer school. Me, I'm just the lucky guy who gets to spend a couple days a week making sure you get the prescribed amount of physical activity." Technically he was also the people who thought summer school was a good idea. Also the one who prescribed the amount of exercise.

Doesn't like school? More along the lines of thinks he knows enough as it is.

"Here's the thing, an this is kind of where the problem arises for you, I'm not here to care if you enjoy school. I'm here to make sure you pass this year's schooling in regards to gym class participation. So get up. Now."

His voice adopted a tone that brokered no debate. It was that tone that said "There is an easy way, and a hard way, to do this. It is getting done, one way or the other, and it is my sincerest wish on this planet that you elect for the hard way, because nothing would make me happier than parading around what has to be the only Remedial Gym student EVER!

Public humiliation, a teacher's best weapon.

"Well whoever you got that clover from, you should demand a refund." Self awareness was not Persi's best talent. He was not, however, so oblivious as to think he wouldn't do everything he could to make this miserable for the guy. Just doing his job or not; Persi didn't want him doing it. And if he was going to be miserable, so was the cause.

Funny thing about public humiliation, it only worked if the person under threat of humiliation didn't already feel humiliated, cared about the opinions of the people around him, believed they wouldn't be humiliated anyway if they cooperated, and wasn't stubborn or angry enough to accept the humiliation. None of those were true of Persi. Humiliation had been lurking in his mind for weeks in quantity, and for years in lesser amounts. He'd spent at least that many years insisting that he did not care what anyone else thought. If remedial gym earned humiliation, it wasn't like being in remedial gym willingly would keep people from seeing or recognizing it; fighting might even point out to them that he was in it because he'd skipped not, because he'd failed. And he wasn't sure he had skipped, anyway, and even if he had, didn't see a point to being sent to class for a week when he'd just been kicked out and definitely was still too thrown off to learn anything, so humiliation or not, he was going to make this as miserable as possible for everyone around. He stayed in his seat, folded his arms, and let his expression dare the guy to make him move.

The dare would be taken, he was sure. And he would resist the whole way to wherever remedial gym was. If the guy wanted to humiliate him, that was too bad; Persi didn't care.

Fine, Perci wanted to play hardball; hardball was what he would get. Without so much as a word Cafas hoisted the kid onto his shoulder in a fireman carry. He then proceeded to walk out of the room, leaving the sketchbook and what not behind. He carried him all the way outside to the sound of poorly hidden laughter from other students.

Cafas took him all the way to the exact same spot they'd had their first lesson. He then proceeded to put Perci down, nice and gently. Mockingly so. "Well, here we are again. Let's see what you remember. In position, guard up." Cafas waited for him to respond. He was not going to put up with anything from the kid. Right on cue another mutant came jogging out, Perci's text book in hand.

Cafas accepted the sketchbook from his minion before sending him on his way. "Okay, first rule of Remedial Gym, if I'm not happy with how much work you've put in at the end of a session, I keep the sketchbook until the next session. Second rule, no matter where you hide, I will find you. Third rule, you try to walk away or other such nonsense, you'll find yourself in the danger room with me at the controls. That clear?"

He certainly hoped it was. It would suck to have to throw the kid in the danger room so soon. He didn't even have a plan for it yet.

Persi had been expecting something more like being dragged outside by his arm, not being carried, so that was annoying. The laughter... was also annoying, but pretty expected, and not exactly new. Really, it was just like being back in school. Especially gym class. Which was probably the point, after all.

That didn't stop him from glaring when he was set down, and doing the worst, most general imitation of what he remembered he could manage. Only with his arms though; his feet stayed put where they landed.

Okay, that was cheating. Persi glared after the kid who'd brought out his sketchbook, and made a note to find out who it was so he could hate them. For the moment... well, there was no way he was ever going to actually please the guy. Maybe if Persi had been an Olympic athlete, he could be impressive enough to get past the guy hating him. Back in reality, however, Persi was pretty sure that Olympic athletes got all their talent by draining it from him. And maybe other unfortunate people, but mostly him. It was the only way to explain just how much he sucked at this sort of thing.

Okay, so he wasn't getting the sketchbook back. Damn the guy, but Persi couldn't really fix it, so. No sketchbook. Fortunately he was pretty sure he could just go get another. Possibly several more, so one could be his real sketchbook and he could hide it, and the others would be decoys for the guy to steal. He'd have to draw in them some for that to work, but he could manage that.

They'd see just how good this guy was at finding him. Persi could be very good at hiding. He'd be guaranteed to get in trouble, of course, but it would also annoy the guy. And as for the last thing.... "No, not really." What in hell was a danger room, and why was it in what everyone kept telling him was a school? Because seriously, Persi had been joking about a scifi Hogwarts. He really was not going to be pleased if that turned out to be any more accurate a description than it already seemed to be. Not that he was pleased now.... "Is it also forbidden and on the third floor? I'm pretty sure the point of that sort of thing is that I'm not allowed there."

Cafas could see that this was going to be fun. If by fun, you meant he was going to leg sweep the kid. In just a second, after he gave him a chance to feel nice and safe. "Forbidden is a bit of a strong word. It's locked to non-X-men because, as the name might imply, it is dangerous. Run the wrong program and it could kill you. We use it to train. Maybe the fear of death might convince you to train a bit harder."

Or at all.

Cafas was unlikely to run anything that had a real chance of being lethal. Maybe painful, but nothing permanent. Enough to provide motivation to keep going. Cafas circled around Persi, examining his terrible stance. He kind of wished he had someone else in the class. That way he could tell them to hit the kid. Or to perhaps be seen as an equal, to be kept up with.

Cafas gave another lap while he spoke. "I see you have forgotten, seemingly, everything. No problem, might just have to cover them again."

Leg Sweep

"Maybe I can convince you that it's important to remember them. That's going to happen every time you should be in stance, but instead choose to be lazy about it.

"Yes, I'm terrified." Persi was also maintaining an entirely deadpan expression. "Now, just what am I terrified of?"

And the guy was circling him. What did he think he was, a shark? Sharks did not have pink hair, for one thing. Or... well, actually, apparently they did have Australian accents. Persi resisted the urge to ask if the guy had any fish friends. That was too easy to interpret as friendly, and also pretty irrelevant. Could be convenient though. The guy did need a name; Bruce would work.

So newly designated Bruce was circling Persi and criticizing him. Like that was new. And trying to intimidate him, or threaten him or guilt him or something. Whatever Bruce was attempting, it wasn't very effective. Persi folded his arms. "What a tragedy."

...Ow. Persi blinked while his eyes cleared. Turned out his head could make a surprisingly loud thunk on the ground. Also, Bruce was firmly amended to Brute. Once Brute's comments filtered in, Persi folded his arms again, stayed firmly on the ground, and glared. He could mostly see clearly again, so at least he was sure he was glaring at Brute. That made him feel slightly better while his head quit throbbing.

Persi did not get up. That would not do at all. Also, if he was going to be leg sweeping him, he should likely get some mats so the kid didn't do himself any damage. He made a mental note to do that before their next lesson. For the time being, he'd have to make do without. He really couldn't go retracting threats.

"Oh, man up kid. You're being a petulent child and you're too caught up in your superiority complex to even notice." Cafas bent down and lifted Persi to his feet. "Remember, I don't care if you suck, if you put the effort I'll give your book back. I'll even tell my friend who dropped it off give back the pencil case. I really wish we could do this without the bullshit." Though the bullshit was somewhat satisfying, it took far too much time and effort for Cafas' liking.

Little bastard might be less of a pain in the ass if he'd ever met the real world.

Ge resumed his pacing.

"Now, guard up. Run through the punches you know, slowly." Also hope to god you don't make this any harder on yourself than it has to be.

Of course Brute picked Persi up. Persi hadn't expected much else--well, he'd expected a bit more yanking than picking, but the effect was the same. And it wouldn't be very productive to damage Persi's arms at the beginning of a lesson; presumably if Bruce was in charge of training Persi, someone was looking for actual results from said training eventually. So Persi's arms were safe, and his legs probably were too, at least for a while, even though his head seemed not to be. His feet settled into a somewhat firmer stance once he was up, which he noticed a bit too late was at least sort of similar to what Brute had been trying to teach him before. Damn.

The realization wasn't necessary, but still fed quite effectively into his glare at being called a child and taunted over the sketchbook. He knew he wasn't getting his artwork back already, thank you very much asshole. Assholes, if he included whoever had brought it. Taunting him more, about something that... personal was an acceptable adjective... was wholly unnecessary.

Run through the punches Persi knows. Right, as if Persi knew any punches by now. Certainly he didn't know any punches that Brute would approve of.

Of course, that didn't mean Persi didn't have some idea how to fight. He was a small, unathletic guy in high school who dressed oddly. Having a twin around helped, but wasn't nearly enough.

So. Persi couldn't knock Brute over; for one thing, there was no way he could argue that tackling was a punch, and for another, it was entirely plausible that he just wouldn't be able to knock him over. That would be pathetic. Well, it was pathetic, but Persi felt no need to demonstrate it.

So instead, Persi waited until Brute was behind him, stepped backwards to get close enough, and spun. His arm was out, bent, and his hand was in a fist like he did in fact remember being told not to do, but considering it was his elbow aiming for Brute anyway, that shouldn't matter.

If this worked... well, Persi had no idea what to do. He was assuming that it wouldn't.

Persi could likely not have made a worse decision if he'd tried. Cafas trained every day his reflexes were honed as good as they were ever getting, and he had fighting instincts built in over the years. He didn't even think about what he was doing, he just went into action.

Catch the elbow, step out of the way, use the force in the swing to spin Perci around and drive the heel of his hand into the kid's stomach. He was still in control, he still knew how to work non-lethally, how to temporarily incapacitate, so he went with that. He gave the kid's arm a firm tug and knocked his feet out, sending him belly first onto the ground.

Idiot. Interesting though. He clearly does have some fight in him, and enough anger to harness somehow..

"Now, see, that was stupid. Good move though, elbowing. It's great, even if they do bring you in too close to step out again quickly. Good power too, so I see the training last time hasn't all gone to waste." It was just well and truly not fast enough. Especially when said someone was focusing on you.

Cafas hadn't even dropped the sketchbook.

"You're going to need to train a lot more to get me with that though. A better opener is something to stun the person, a quick shot to the face. Didn't I teach you that last time? Jab, jab, hook? Elbow can be substituted for the hook, though that can be a little more lethal." He kept circling. Now though, he was smiling. The fact the kid tried to fight him made him happy.

Ow. Okay, that was slightly more painful than Persi had expected. Primarily the whole attempting to crush his stomach thing. He couldn't really think of a better option, though, so he'd live with it. It was probably going to happen a lot, really, so he'd better. For the moment though, he was staying where he was. He could even see Brute, out of the corner of his eye, to glare at him. "F*** you." Not that he expected Brute to care at all, considering how gleeful he was, but it was still nice to say. Although if Brute was this gleeful after every time he knocked Persi over, Persi was really going to have to get used to being hit hard....

After a minute Persi recovered enough (and got bored), rolled over onto his back, and eyed Brute. Not for any particular reason, but with the way he was circling and the way that tended to end for Persi, being able to see him was sort of reassuring, a little bit. Persi would prefer to know when he was going to be kicked, thanks. "You know you're not actually a shark, right? That looks really stupid." Slightly creepy too, but that was mostly because Persi had something of an aversion to people who became cheerful by beating up others. Which, in his opinion, was a perfectly justifiable aversion and one that a lot more people needed to have.

"I am well aware of my status as a land mammal. As for looking stupid, you know, says the kid who attacked his self defense instructor. How's the ground down there?" Cafas chose to ignore the earlier comment in favour of planning the danger room sim they'd be using next time. He absentmindedly browsed the sketchbook while he was at it.

"Whenever you're ready to get up is fine by me. Just remember, I can keep you for as long as needs be after class, and for every minute you spend slacking off, I'm adding a minute to that total." He continued circling, because frankly he didn't care what the kid thought of the action.

He knew he would likely have to pick the kid up again. He didn't enjoy the fact, in fact it really quite annoyed him, but he put up with it for now. He may have to provide extra motivation at some point, but playing all his cards too soon was a bad idea.

Brat will cop it in the danger room.

He really needed to get a second student.

"The self defense instructor that told me to attack him." Arguably. Maybe. The order could be interpreted as such, anyway, if you wanted it to. Besides, Brute had had Persi punch him (or his hands, anyway) to practice last time, so that only made it logical that Persi was supposed to punch him now.

...If palms counted as punching, so did elbows.

"Hm. Sure," Persi decided. If he was going to be spending the same amount of time 'training' either way, he saw no reason not to take breaks. Long breaks, while laying on the ground. The weather wasn't that bad. He folded his arms behind his head. It stretched his stomach a little bit painfully, but not much, and that was fading pretty quickly.

Persi knew it was probably an incredibly stupid thing to close his eyes. He did it anyway.

While Persi's eyes were closed Cafas took a moment to place the book as high in the tree as his height would allow him. He then walked over to the prone form of the brat. Cafas hauled him to his feet, a little less gently this time. He then smiled ruefully at the kid. "We're gonna do some more ducking." Cafas glared down the kid, eyes flickering a rather dangerous colour of pink, they matched his hair quite nicely, really.

"More accurately, you are going to practice ducking, and I'm going to take swings at you to make sure you do it. You can elect not to do it, but you'd be stupid if you did." Because Cafas was a little mad, and more than a little willing to hit the kid again. "Maybe one day, if you pay attention, you might land a blow on me."

Unlikely, but perhaps.

Cafas took a slight step back and gently threw a shot. It wouldn't do much but push his head to the side if he didn't duck, but Cafas did make sure he was aiming for the spot his first punch had hit the kid last lesson. He'd have gone faster, but it was a warm up exercise, and he didn't want the kid to snap a tendon.