Rhode Handerson's Story

“Rhode? Hello? Do you understand Rhode?”

Rhode blinked, his head snapping to attention at the Dean of Discipline. Pursing their lips in annoyance at his reaction, the dean tilted their head to the side and frowned at him. “You understand right Rhode? You’re just to bring the offenders in for questioning. There’s been a recent bout of rumours going around that this particular group has been using their weapons to harm other students, bring them in but don’t harm them if possible, understood?” The dean reaffirmed, staring hard at him.

“Haaah” Rhode breathed out, his eyes closing in impatience. “Understood Dean,” he nodded in confirmation before gazing around. Other members of the discipline squad stood close by, but all of them preferred to maintain their distance from him, as if he where afflicted with some disease. “Please do try your best to follow orders,” the dean gave him a smile without any mirth. With a final sigh he moved off to begin his pursuit, giving a final wave before slinking into the shadows.



“The hound dog? That can’t be! Did they hear about us using our weapons to threaten people? But...they only send him when they want to hurt people!” One of the students exclaimed, their voice rising with the growing sense of tension. The group of them, four or so students in total, stood together in one of those brain storming huddles, each of their faces discoloured in terror.

“Is that who’s been chasing us? Oh great Hatari, give me strength…” Another murmured with a trembling voice.

“Its okay guys don’t worry. Even if it’s him, he’s only one guy. He’s got no partner, if it comes down to it, we can take him” The largest boy reassured the rest, a veritable giant amongst them whose thin shirt seemed to be on the verge of ripping under the immense pressure of his muscles.

Abruptly, Rhode’s thick voice cut into their conversation like a knife through butter, barely filtering out the bloodlust contained within. “Pray that the end isn’t right behind you then.”

The largest boy whirled around instinctively, thrusting his hand forwards on defensive impulse. A fist half the size of Rhode’s head collided against his cheek, sending him stumbling back several steps. In response, a stunned silence descended over the alleyway as the four students locked their eyes onto Rhode like ravenous wolves. As if on some unseen signal, they charged at him.

This was the part which brought a wicked smile to his face. Normally, using force to restrain offenders was a last resort, and even worse, the amount of force they could exert was limited. This was too boring for a blood thirster like Rhode; he was a being of action, his every fibre screamed for pure violence. As he closed onto his victims, deliberately biding his time whilst savouring their contorted expressions, they became increasingly desperate. Using his reputation to impale their hearts with fear, all rational and reason becomes lost. He’d herd them into a corner, and then they’d lash out in return, playing into his hands like puppets. Attacking him gave him all the reason he needed to use proper force. Like the slow build up of a drama prior to the turning point, that’s when the real Rhode would awaken to consume his meal, a beast of war bred for the sole purpose of fighting. His every punch was a joyful howl as he thrashed his foes down gleefully. Nothing like a virtual match, here he could feel weighted impact behind every blow, his furious heartbeat in every vein and the screams of the defeated which reverberated into the depths of his very core, satisfying his monstrous soul.

One of the students roared in the face of the senseless violence, his mind already too far gone to make sense of anything. As he screamed, a glistening broad sword shimmered into existence, materialising in his hands as he summoned his lunar weapon in defiance.

“All you have is normal short sword! If it’s come down to this, I’ll do whatever it takes!”

Watching this, Rhode’s corrupted smile could only broaden. Better and better, things were quickly becoming more interesting now. He dashed aside as the muscular boy brought his broadsword crashing downwards, shattering the earth with the force of its impact. Rubble exploded upwards but Rhode had already stepped within the boy’s guard, his fist flying forwards with the force of a monster truck. The punch blew the air out of the larger boy’s lungs before the boy realised his face was now firmly in the grasp of Rhode's hands. With the crack of a thunderbolt, Rhode slammed the boy's head against the tip of his knee, knocking him out instantly. And just like that, it was over.

Rhode stepped back, nursing the bruise over his right cheek with his hand. The walkie talkie by his belt burst into life suddenly, the unmistakable voice of the dean blaring angry profanities from the other side.

“Rhode! Dammit Rhode! That was fighting I heard wasn’t it?! You got in another damn fight again didn’t you? You’re damn lucky I had the foresight to bug you! What’s the situation Rhode!? Where are you!?”

Rhode stepped back to admire his bloody work. The four boys were out cold. Their wounds included a few dislocated bones and dozens of bruises, nothing that would risk endangering their lives. On the other hand, this was why Rhode didn’t have a partner either. After seeing this, no one in their right minds would accompany him.

“One of them pulled out their lunar weapon. Force became necessary,” Rhode returned coolly, pulling the walkie talkie up to his face. “Anyway, your delivery is waiting for you here. You should already know where since you’ve bugged me, right?”

Rhode stood up front of the observation room, watching the ongoing duel without mirth. His powerful frame was a statue of bristling frustration amongst the spectator’s cheers and whistles, their growing excitement filling the room with a buzzing warmth. He cursed the Dean of Discipline’s name all the while as the fiery arena reflected of his hooded eyes and coated his leather jacket with a deep red, his attention obviously elsewhere. He’d been given watch duty today as punishment for his earlier behaviour, and given Rhode’s abhorrence for VR battles, the Dean certainly knew how to toy with him.

Placing a trembling hand against the window sill which separated the audience from the VR room, his gaze levelled down at the two students below. The dark figures of Anya Roscoe and Anne Patra danced out in front of him, the twin blades and spear creating explosive sparks with each parry. Anya was a fast thinker, highly analytical to the point of obsessive. Rhode was impressed by how quickly she was acting. Anne on the other hand was headstrong to the point of foolhardy. Even Rhode had to admit he was entertained if not for the looming cloud of the Dean overshadowing him, a rare occasion indeed given his dislike for VR battles, such finesse was usually only seen amongst his year, the seniors.

“Mind stepping back from the windows there, sir? You’re ruining the mood with that face,” a suave voice cut in curtly.

Turning to the source of the intrusion, Rhode’s eyes fell upon the lithe figure of Janice, his senior in the security team, although that wasn't difficult to achieve given he was also the likely the youngest senior in terms of age. He watched as she stepped slowly towards him, the crowds seemingly dispersing to make space for her to pass. The dark uniform of the discipline squad hugged at her athletic figure, rolling over the curves of her body in a fashion most found incredibly enchanting. Stopping a meter back, her rosy lips smiled coyly at him, causing his eyes to twitch in a manner of disgust. “Lost it on the job again?” Her tone slithering mockingly of the tip of her tongue like a snake, “All these years and we thought even you would’ve learnt by now.”

Of course he was being reprimanded, that was the only reason he was ever inside of the VR room outside of the occasional duel. Rhode scoffed finally as he lifted his hand from the aluminium frame, realising the pressure of his grip had crushed the metal formwork. “So, I have to share watch duty with you then?” Rhode asked rhetorically.

“Whose fault is it for not having a partner even though they’re a senior?” Janice’s grin could only widen as she joined him in watching the match below. The proceedings had fallen eerily silent around them as an announcement blared over the speakers then. The broadcast informed every one of the implications of the match’s outcome, but to them it mattered little, the discipline squad were an impartial force of their own. "Reminds you of our earlier days though doesn't it?"

Lance's gaze was interrupted when a figure entered his line of vision. Wearing a leather jacket tinted red from the lava from the arena and hooded eyes, Lance knew exactly who that was. Of course, it could've been anyone who wore a leather jacket and had hooded eyes, but no one looked more badass in doing so...it was Rhode Handerson. Rhode had been the one to show him and his group around on introductory day. What Lance liked about him most was his true love for violence. He followed his own code and didn't seem to care about anyone else, nor did he really seem to tolerate anyone else running his job or his life. He was his own true master and no one was puppeteering him. Lance tended to draw towards people like that...rebels who lived by their own ruled.

"Excuse me for a moment, guys," he whispered to the group before heading towards the window. He could tell that Rhode was suffering just a little bit. He'd probably used force, again, when force wasn't really necesarily and now he was being punished for it. Lance wanted to relieve some of his bad mood.

Walking up to him, he ignored the girl he was originally talking to as it seemed that she seemed to aggravate him. Best try to remove her from the picture... he though as he finally reached the two. "Oh hey, Rhode. How's it going?" he asked, nonchalantly, knowing that the answer wasn't going to be something positive. It was dead obvious that this was punishment to him and he cursed himself in his head for being so dumb in not realizing this sooner. He liked making friends, not enemies...

"Oh hey, Rhode. How's it going?"

Rhode and Janice looked around simultaneously as Lance’s voice called out to them, their eyes regarding first year with curiosity. There was a brief hesitation in his step that suggested the first-year was reluctant to join them, but both disciplinary squad members simply attributed it to the venomous presence of Rhode.

Janice nudged at his waist subtly as they exchanged glances, her hushed voice becoming abruptly stern, “Now be nice to the first-years.” She perked up then, plastering a smile over her face as she spoke openly, “I’ll go check on the other stands, don’t slack off too much Rhode,” she waved before turning on her heels.

Rhode could only frown in response to the Lance’s question, his hooded eyes becoming ever so slightly more sinister. He sighed then as if to release the entirety of his built up tension as he eyes fell on first-year again.

“How does it look like it’s going?” Rhode snorted, a low hiss of anger amidst the ongoing silence. An expression of boredom twisting over his sharp features as he watched after Janice until she was out of earshot. His attention snapped back at Lance then, measuring the boy up and down. Finally, a single cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, “Cheers for the assistance though," he offered, regardless of intentions the boy did inadvertently help him by getting Janice out of his hair for the time being. "Here to enjoy the fight? Or even request a duel perhaps?" he asked, deciding to indulge in the boy's question. "I'm sorry, i didn't catch your name either? Terrible memory here"

Rhode and the girl he was talking too both stopped and turned to him. Lance, somewhat, blushed uncomfortably as there was an awkward silence between the two. But that could also be contributing to the silenced crowd, watching the fight.

Finally, the girl made the first move, elbowing Rhode in what seemed to be a playful manner before she spoke to him too hushed for Lance to hear and leaving with a wave. Now it was just him and Rhode.

“How does it look like it’s going?” Rhode hissed at him, his expression seeming to darken. Lance, once again, cursed himself for asking that dumb question. Then, Rhode smirked. "Cheers for the assistance though," Lance was confused at first. Assistance for what? Then he remembered how annoyed he was sounding when talking to the girl earlier, so he must've been talking about her. He just shrugged modestly in response.

"Here to enjoy the fight? Or even request a duel perhaps?" he asked, "I'm sorry, i didn't catch your name either? Terrible memory here"

"Oh," Lance replied,"It's Lance...Lance Walsh." He extended his hand,"And I'm here to watch the fight. I actually know both Anne and Anya. It's a good fight going on down there, huh?" He turned to the arena, where the fight was still raging. "And I might duel you...sometime later though, because I'm still a little new here. But still old enough to hear the crazy stories I've heard about Rhode Handerson." He grinned, turning back to Rhode.

Before Rhode could reply, Lance had turned back to the fight. Anne was hurt...seriously hurt. Anya had managed to break her right knee and disable her right arm, making her entire right side useless. Lance's favor to win was slowly heading for Anya...

But Anne wasn't done yet. Her right side may be done for, but her left side couldn't be any more helpful. Rapid attacks by Anne actually led to a wound on Anya. Now it was as if Lance suddenly realized that Anya wasn't invincible. She may be a prodigy, but she could still be defeated.

Anya retaliated, slashing at Anne's left hand to try and disarm her, then flipped backwards, tossing her blades at Anne as she did so. There was a flash and Lance didn't know if the blades hit Anne or not. It was too bright to tell. Still, he could see the fatigue on Anya's face as she was growing tired. It made sense, since this was her second fight today. If this kept up much longer, they may have to reschedule their spar a couple of days later, but that might give him time to rest up his hand, which was beginning to get sore. Meanwhile, Anya had conjured her third pair of blades and was back on the offensive...

"Oh, it's Lance...Lance Walsh." Lance extended his hand out by way of introduction. Well, they said you tell a lot about a man from his hand shake so Rhode extended his own and shook it with a vicious grip. Lance’s palms were soft, his grasp loose yet confident indicating the hallmarks of a free spirited soul. He nodded as he followed Lance’s gaze down to the ferocious display of martial prowess beneath them.

"And I'm here to watch the fight. I actually know both Anne and Anya. It's a good fight going on down there, huh?" Lance said with no small measure of admiration, gesturing towards the arena as his eyes motioning to the ongoing duel with equal excitement. Rhode simply nodded again in reply, relinquishing the hidden ‘but’ which tugged at the bottom of his mind. Certainly for a first year this kind of drawn out duel would’ve been a rare occasion indeed, with most first year battles tending to end in overwhelming defeats. As they watched it became clear that Anne was slowly recovering her eyesight, her movements becoming ever so slightly more precise with each stroke. Anya looked equally tired and drawn out as she leapt back, her blades snapping only to be resummoned a moment later.

“Oh?” Rhode mused, “Is one of them your partner perhaps?”

"And I might duel you...sometime later though, because I'm still a little new here. But still old enough to hear the crazy stories I've heard about Rhode Handerson.” Lance grinned finally.

Rhode almost licked in lips in anticipation, “I look forwards to that Walsh, come at me with all you have,” he smirked.

Lance turned back to Rhode when he replied. "Oh, is one of them your partner perhaps?" Lance blushed, but it was barely noticeable with the light of the lava reflecting through the glass. "Um...no, not really. But Anne's a friend of mine and Anya...well Anya was intrigued by my fighting style this afternoon, so I don't exactly know what I would call her...possibly a future sparring partner, but the same could be said for Anne as well..." His voice trailed off as he shifted into thought.

It was what Rhode said next that brought him back. “I look forwards to that Walsh, come at me with all you have." Lance admired his confident attitude, but when you have a reputation like him, it was kind of hard not to feel confident about yourself. Lance only smiled to the smirk on Rhode's face. "If I did that now, then I'd be mince meat. I could handle Bruno Jackson, but people like you and Anya...now I need a little bit more training before I take you up on that offer because I don't have much to come at you guys with right now." Lance turned back to the fight. Anne had effectively deflected both Anya's last stroke and her blade toss. She even dodged the flash of light that was supposed to render her sightless, like the first time. She caught on quickly, even though she was only a first year.

And then Anne tried something unexpected. Anne launched herself in the air, spreading lava everywhere. But the lava was only a distraction. As she descended, Anya used the spear to launch herself in Anya's direction with incredible speed and a battle cry: "Patra Style: One Way Fang!" It was the very first words he had heard throughout the entire fight from Anne and it seemed as if they would be her last as well. Lance could only look on, in suspense, at what Anya would try to deflect Anne's attack.

Though he couldn’t see the colour of the boy’s complexion, Rhode understood he was blushing at the thought of his earlier comment, "Um...no, not really. But Anne's a friend of mine and Anya...well Anya was intrigued by my fighting style this afternoon, so I don't exactly know what I would call her...possibly a future sparring partner, but the same could be said for Anne as well...". His lips curled with amusement as Rhode gave a twisted shadow of a chuckle in response. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to Lance, but Rhode could see the boy flicking his eyes towards Anne more than Anya.

Rhode span open the cap of his canteen and poured its contents down his throat, he needed something with wash mouth with. Lance had a frank and honest streak about him which Rhode found admirable, even refreshing in a sense. On the other hand, Stella Luna academy had the potential to be a much darker and crueller place that any sane mind could imagine. He mused to himself quietly, wondering if the boy would hold the same attitude a year from now.

Lance continued to speak as he endeavoured to answer Rhode’s original question, "If I did that now, then I'd be minced meat. I could handle Bruno Jackson, but people like you and Anya...now I need a little bit more training before I take you up on that offer because I don't have much to come at you guys with right now."

“Heh, well it’s my job to intimidate everyone,” Rhode shrugged. It was a simple statement that stabbed at the true purpose of the discipline squad, to control great power you needed an even greater power to rein it in. Rhode’s cold expression seemed bored almost as he affixed his gaze to the duel once more, “Careful not to get too caught up in these VR battles though. Sparring to improve your skill is fine but the real enemy is out there, and they are far from human.” Rhode grinned and paced away after that as he felt Janice's presence tug at the back of his senses.

Rhode replied. “Heh, well it’s my job to intimidate everyone,” he said in almost a bored and normal manner, as if he said it a hundred times a day. He had a point there. What would be the point of the guard if it weren't made up of some powerful sword wielders who could defend and defeat almost everyone in the academy? Which only made Lance wonder what they would do if someone like Anya took a turn in the wrong direction...

“Careful not to get too caught up in these VR battles though. Sparring to improve your skill is fine but the real enemy is out there, and they are far from human.” were Rhode's final words to Lance as he grinned and walked away. Another good point. He'd most definately follow on that advice....

In the meantime, he turned back to the fight which seemed to be ending. Anya had leaped, as predicted by just about everyone. There really wasn't another option. But there was Anne again, showing off her incredible agility as she managed to turn around lightning fast, carrying a lot of her momentum with her. Lance knew that this was probably Anne's last stand. But it was still quite an effective one. But Anya knew how to effectively counter, catching Anne's lance and dealing a final killing blow towards Anne. One word was spoken by Anya before the arena flashed white, nearly blinding just about everyone in the spectator stand. Was it over? Lance turned back to the arena, waiting for it to dim down. Had Anya won? It seemed like so...