#villian!arc

                   you don’t knock --- a bad habit marx constantly scolds you for but it makes no sense because dude is def not plowing anyone during free time. he’s always writing or doing teacher shit.     “     ayo ! what’s good ? i’m oscar !     “     you say with a bright smile, giving her a once over because she’s a certified baddie but you’re also a committed ass dude so you throw a thumbs up behind you towards door,     “     so you’re grouped with me and my goons,  the supernaturals. imma show you around and introduce to to everyone.     “

          the uniforms are a bit porn-y. the last time you wore a similar outfit was in fifth grade when you were a catholic school student. and even those skirts were below knee length with scratch socks to make them less appealing to the eye. you had to pop the first few buttons open to breathe and this feels like a set up. the only bright side being it’s your favorite color. your primary instructors ordered you to this specific mentor and gave him mixed reviews. one saying he’s a good man and the other saying he’ll get you where you should be. tentatively, you knock and wait with gaze looking further down red halls.

          “     you guys aren’t nervous ?     “     saying as pen hovers over notes from simulation. teacher’s lounge providing ample solitude from excitable students reigning in the newbies and acquainting them with older attendees. you reach for coffee mug, taking a heady sip,     “     we got lucky,     “     elbow motioning towards noel,     “     only one new girl for us. you’ve got what, three or four high powered ones ?     “