Exposed

Timing: 2 September 2016
Setting: Academy gym, Pietr's there with a group of tech-track cadets
.
An uneasy ripple passes through the gym.
Pietr attends the door and the black person walking in with self-defense instructor Insley.
The crowd around him steps back as one.
Pietr cringes.
Officer Insley beckons him.
He creeps to the center of the mats.
She] says something to the black person, who nods.
Pietr tenses; his heart rate jumps.
The black person assumes a fighting stance.
Pietr mimics.
Movement!
Strong hand on his forearm.
Pietr twists, reverses the hold—
Black person pivots, kicks—
—lands hard on one knee, grabs—
—spins, trips—
—yanks the hem of their trousers—
—lands on their butt, scrambles—
—throws himself to his feet, hands up to guard.
—upright, tilts their head back, and laughs.
Pietr's eyebrows brush his hairline.
"Nice work," says the black person, eyes sparkling. "You've been in a fight or two before, ay?"
Pietr ducks his head—eyes still on the black person's lips—and shrugs.
The black person turns away, says something—
Insley shoos Pietr off the mat.
Pietr retreats to the edge of the gym, shakes his head clear.
Something tickles the hairs on the back of his neck.
He scans the room, marks a new person with an aura of calm authority studying him. He offers a small smile and sketches a wave.
The person bobs their head in acknowledgment.
A elbow pokes Pietr's ribs and he forces his attention back to the mats and Insley freeing a student from the black person's arm lock.
Too far away and at a bad angle to understand their words.
Pietr sighs, looks for the person with authority. 
They're gone.
Sighs again, searches for a better spot, completely fails to find one. Asks heaven for patience.
Sees enough to know the black person is sparring with every student in the class, though.
A tug at his sleeve.
Attends.
Student points to Insley, who waves him over, frustrated cast to her features.
Slinks over.
"Try again," she says, tilting her head to the black person.
Nods.
Motion in his peripheral.
Authority is back.
Shrugs it off.
Mimics the black person's ready stance.
Movement!
The floor races up.
Pietr twists, catches himself, rolls clear of kicking range and to his knees—
Black person sizes him up, circles—
—lunges for their middle—
—windmills, still goes over backward—
—pins an arm—
—shoves Pietr away with a foot, darts—
—fights for balance—
—slings themselves onto Pietr's back—
—down on all fours—
—gets an arm around Pietr's neck—
—squirms, rolls—
—holds fast, tightens his grip—
—straightens, wiggles a hand under his arm—
—tightens—
—gets light-headed, taps his free hand against the black person's—
—lets go, hops away.
—drops back to all four, gasps.
Hand on his shoulder.
Pietr twists around.
"You okay?"
Thumbs up.
Black person offers a hand.
Accepts, gets back on his feet.
Black person bows.
Pietr does, too.
Instructor Insley herds everyone toward the door.
From the corner of his eye, Pietr catches Authority watching him. He waves—
Authority returns something like a smile.
—and trudges to Circuitry.
And then on through the rest of his day.
He yawns his way out of Etiquette—
Mobile buzzes in his pocket.
AGNIS: Please report to Room 228, Instructor Ramos' office, ASAP.
Pietr blinks.
p_a_vos: B ther soon.
Starts walking.
AGNIS: I will inform her you are en route.
p_a_vos: Thx!
Picks up his pace, puts away the mobile.
Stops at door two-two-eight, squares up, breathes deep.
Peers in, knocks.
Person with authority looks up, beckons.
Pietr steps inside, stops in front of the desk.
Authority indicates a chair.
Sits.
"You read lips?"
Nods.
Authority offers a notepad and pen.
Pulls them closer, picks up the pen.
"I'm Instructor Ramos, she-her-hers—"
Bobs his head.
"—and you're Pietr Vos, he-him-his?"
Nods.
"When'd you lose your hearing?"
- never had it -
"What about your voice?"
- same -
Ramos appraises.
Waits.
"Why didn't you tap out as soon as he had the chokehold? You knew he had you; I could see it in your face."
- forgot I could -
"Too used to winning?"
Shakes his head violently.
- not an option in schoolyard -
"That where you learned to fight?"
Nods, adds,
- & older brother -
"No lessons? No classes?"
Shakes his head.
"How many fights have you been in?"
Grimaces.
- too many -
"You start them?"
- not usually -
"Why'd they happen?"
- easy target -
Bares teeth.
- at first -
Ramos grins. 
"Do you know who you dropped this morning?"
Pietr shakes his head.
"Lachlan Riley, one of the top candidates for Ranger."
Blinks.
"He fought half the general-track students on the grounds today and you're the /only one to take him off his feet."
Blinks more.
"So why aren't /you a candidate for Ranger?"
Eyebrows climb.
- deaf -
Cringes.
- stupid -
"Why're you here, then?"
- mechanic -
One of Ramos' eyebrows twitches. "You want to be a tech."
Pietr nods.
"I've got a better idea."
Queries.
"I want to train you as a fight instructor."
'/Me?'
Ramos snorks. "Yes, you."
'Is it?'
"A person who walks in off the street—with no formal training—and takes out someone like Riley is /not tech material. It'd be a waste." Ramos smiles, big and warm. "You're a fighter, Vos."
Pietr chokes on a laugh.
- I'm a what? -
Ramos stifles a laugh, too. "A fighter, Vos."Category:Ficlet
Category:Pietr
Category:Pietr (ficlet)
Category:Jaeger Academy (setting)
Category:Lachlan
Category:Lachlan (ficlet)
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Category:Michelle (ficlet)
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