Trash: Chapter 151 Lunch Time Provocations (Patreon)

<<<<Author's Note: I've massaged some of the wording to make the fight provocation a bit less jarring, and more believable. >>>Chapter 151

Lunch Time Provocations

There were a lot of nuances that were discussed. Being the one university used to blend dozens of divided empires together tended to cause some forms of forced integrations. This university seemed to be no different. While we couldn’t cover it all in the few minutes we had to assemble our pins to our chests and to head out, we did get enough of an understanding to realize we definitely needed a Marcus to help us guide through our first days of orientation, at the very least.

“Now do you all have any place in particular we should go now? The Dfac, or Dining facility, and sadly not much else is open at this time, as everyone will be taking their lunches at the exact same time. This is done to help force everyone both take a lunch and never be able to take away someone else’s lunchtime. Lunches are sacred here, and other than spending time with your friends or teammates, it is not encouraged to reach out to others who use this time for a moment of peace,” Marcus stated, offering us an option, but then quickly pivoting as he realized the time.

“I guess lunch it is,” I responded, though this would have likely been my personal time.

“Very good, now follow me and if you will, please let me do all the talking to the Dfac,” Marcus stated. His words were technically a question but they were phrased in a way that suggested I had no option but to comply, which was fine with me.

“Lead on,” I replied while gesturing for him to take the lead.

As he left, Marcus began standing fully erect and had an aura overtake him. An aura that screamed that he was on a mission of utmost importance and that he was not to be stopped for anything. Seeing his determination in leading us, the line of strangers gathered for free spots parted.

“Hey can you—” one muscular student called out, clearly trying to get one of my two open positions first. Pausing for just a moment, Marcus stopped his forward pace and stood fully erect and proceeded to glare at the gaggle of students who were gathering around us and trying to gather favor with us. Then acting the way only a mother eagle could while staring down a pit of vipers that had somehow entered her nest and threatened her young, Marcus struck back. He struck back, in possibly the most aristocratic way possible.

“If you all will please excuse us, we are on our way to the Dfac,” Marcus stated at first, locking eyes with and staring down the first muscular fighter that tried to stop us. Seeing the intensity in Marcus’s gaze, the fighter raised both hands placatingly in a sign of submission.

“We just want to—” a second bronze skinned female warrior cut in, trying to justify the first warriors actions for why we should choose now to talk.

“My master has been traveling from the ass end of nowhere for all day. Only to get here, not just meet but exceed the trials, get accepted to two minors, and now she has asked me to guide her to the Dfac so that she and her slotted team members can finally eat for the day,” Marcus began. Hearing him speak, it was clear that he was very well informed, as he knew I got accepted to both my minors. I honestly didn’t know that this would be the case, as the other instructors seemed to have argued so vehemently against my taking both minors. Then before the ramifications of that thought could fully manifest, Marcus continued, “now if you do not want my Master’s first impressions of you to be while she is hangry, then I suggest you take thirty minutes, maybe take in a meal yourself, and we will get back to you.”

There he was, Marcus, my mobile interceptor of annoying telemarketing requests and apparent answering machine all in one. Who said technology was dead, it has just been improved to do all the functions that we actually want to have happen, by getting Marcus. Seeing him in action already, I feel that it would have been an idiot tax, not to get him. Then as expected when faced with overwhelming logic, the second warrior also backup a few steps, getting out of our way. A gesture that was then mirrored by everyone else.

Marcus for his part took a deep breath and glared at everyone for one more minute, then after a three count he continued marching us forward, “come on, we have wasted enough time as it is. Hopefully, there will be a few warm meals left.”

At that comment, everyone sheepishly looked down at the ground. Well almost everyone, there was one who still used this moment to try to make an impression.

“Nice meeting you!” A smaller girl called out. Looking down at her, I could see that she was brimming with magical energies if her eyes were any indication of her powers, while having not one, but two daggers strapped to her hips, one on each side. Seeing her, I could tell she was using some type of intrusive scan on me. In fact, most of the students were at this point, eyes glowing in various shades of blue, red, purple, and even golden.

This girl though, she stood out on multiple levels. Not that she was the first one to cordially welcome me here, but that she also had red eyes. Well not real red eyes, at least I don’t think she did, but rather she used what I assumed was a form of fire magic to view my status page. While I didn’t know it was possible, I also didn’t know if it was supposed to be impossible either. Still, the fact that so many different energies were now being used against me, caused me to shiver slightly from all the intense stares going on. I almost wished I had some type of analysis Skill, but then realize that such a Skill is wasteful, at least for now.

Or maybe it has been wasteful until now. Now though, now that I am near and around so many new people, maybe having a type of analysis Skill wouldn’t be too bad? As I am having these thoughts, I do the old touristy cliché of looking over the crowd of gawkers, trying to take everyone in. Seeing if there is anyone who stands out. There are less than a hundred people in total, but that number of people is more than enough to showcase the disparity of how people are treated here. The first thing that I notice is that there is a clear distinction between a few of the fighters, some look like they were just kicked out of a group yesterday, as their weapons and armor are polished and in pristine working conditions. Then there is the next group, who have a bit of dirt and stains on their uniforms, but still have glowingly clean weapons. Then there are the third group, those that seem to have lost all hope in themselves and this system, as they are covered in grime as are the parts of their weapons that are shown. I make it note not to even consider those in the third group. Though, I do feel part of my want to help others come out, as I do plan on trying to at least help them pass their next interviews with clean weapons and clothes, thanks to my Trash Skill. While they failed the initial test in my eyes of at least dressing the part, that doesn’t mean they have to fail every future test. It also wouldn’t hurt to add a few levels to my Trash Skill, while doing a good deed overall. These were the thoughts that I had while going into the Dfac.

Then once entering, I saw that there were three lines. However, it seemed that only one lane was in actual use at this time. The first two were wide open, while the third one was filled with people lined up in single file formation. Seeing my confusion, I paused and looked at Marcus.

“The lines go from right to left are, first line for faculty and staff. Second line for healer candidates. Then finally this last line is for everyone else,” Marcus comments while gesturing for me to go to the completely empty Healer line.

“Wait, why?” I ask, “why can’t you all just come with me?”

“We can’t, as all healer related expenses are on their own tally sheet, and correlated separately. While ours is part of the initial entry cost,” Marcus responded, stating exactly why I hated this feudal system mentality. For a moment, I think about getting extra and just letting my teammates eat some while they wait. But before I can even enact this plot, Marcus stops me with logic, “you also cannot give us your food, as it is of a different quality and is designed specifically for healers.”

Again, more lies. I have a hard time imagining food being designed specifically for healers that couldn’t help others, but I bite down my anger at the injustice of this system. Particularly as the other team members seem just fine with this arrangement. Seeing that they are okay with this arrangement, I nod then go through the quick and efficient healer only line.

A waitress is there to first glance for my emerald-green badge, before she asks me, “name?”

“Catarine Bloom,” I reply, and am about to comment that I am new and might not be on her list. But she just writes down my name and gestures for me to go.

“Enjoy,” was the one-word response, along with a gesture. Seeing the gesture, I shrugged and walked forward. Only once I walked forward did I feel a deep intrusive gaze on my soul from exactly where the waitress was. Turning back, I could see the glint of glowing blue energy in her eyes, and realized that yes they likely had someone like her just to check. Why she waited until I crossed the line didn’t make much sense at first, until I realized it was likely to make sure I would be punished if I was lying. If I lied about either my name, stole the badge, and then entered, it would be a crime. Before entering, I could just say it was a prank, or that I was doing this for the true team lead. At least these were the thoughts I had, while going through the line.

I grabbed a tray, and began putting down plates of meats, vegetables, and fruits. Then I looked and saw the desert section but was sadly disappointed by the selections available. Apparently, they wanted us to have healthier meals, that or their desert chef was not worth the cost, as I just stared and saw bland pies that were topped with runny whipped cream that already seemed to be melting under the heat. Realizing the best choices were the meats, vegetables, and fruits I called it a day and went back to the cafeteria area to find a table. Then looking back, I glanced in line to see where my team was, only to find that they were gone, which was good as it meant that they should be joining me any minute.

At least that was the plan, until I saw the line shuffle forward, allowing for Marcus to enter the Dfac building again. Seeing him enter, I wondered if I was suddenly experiencing Groundhog Day, or something as I swore we were all in here, when I left. Then looking at the group of people before them, I saw that the group of people in front of Marcus and the others had also changed. Seeing them, I dropped my tray and charged forward to understand what had happened.

“Why are you back here?” I asked Marcus. Marcus for his part opened his mouth and looked like he was about to try to use flowery words to explain why this was happening. At the same time, the group in front of us began laughing as they looked at me. All older classmen, and all larger with more muscle to them, than my group of two auxiliary support and two speed fighters.  

“No,” I declared, waving my hand at Marcus, cutting off whatever he was going to say, and then turned to Lucia who I knew would tell me what happened correctly. Locking gazes with Lucia, I demanded, “you.”

For her part Lucia seemed flustered for a moment, but then replied, “it is part of the hierarchy here. We are members of the newest healer group, and therefor at the bottom of the pile when it comes to priority and food services.”

“Oh hell no,” I replied, my voice shouting and echoing in the open Dfac. At my announcement, I feel dozens of eyes on me. I can even feel people moving around through vibrations in the ground. Some trying to get closer, others moving to within acting range to no doubt break us up if anything happens. Still, my fight is not with them, not yet. Instead, I turn to the towering ox of a man that is just laughing and looking back at me, with a ‘what are you gonna’ do about it look.’

Then finally, he speaks boisterously and demands with a mocking tone, “who do you think you are looking at?”

Hearing the blatant provocation and disrespect for not just me, but my team, I can’t continue to back down any further.

“I’m looking at the final result of what happens when the runny yolk didn’t completely pour out correctly from your mother’s waffle, leaving us here with you. That, unfortunately, is what I am now forced to look at,” I begin letting my years of hearing the worst curses and lines from people screaming in pain at the ER, come back and help me exact justice at the indignity of my team being forced to move to the back of the line, while some rite of dominance is being displayed here by an upper class loser’s team.“What? What did you say?” The flabbergasted warrior cried out, taking a threatening step forward, but his gate was off. His balance was not centered and he clearly had no clue how to use his dominant right hand in a fight. I got all of this by watching his lumbering movements and realized, I was going to make my own type of statement here.“I said, I’m looking at what would have made a better excuse for a stain on your mother’s undergarments than the human being you have grown into, now get out of line and let my friends have their place back,” I hiss.While I received crickets from my first response, everyone too caught up to understand what I had said and apparently who I had spoken to. This time things were different, as everyone was not only listening to my words, but realizing that I was not backing down. That is why people started to laugh, which only further seemed to enrage the lumbering oaf of a warrior. It was clear that he might not be able to understand how I had insulted him, but he realized from everyone’s reaction and laughter that he had now been insulted not once, but twice.

Taking a powering step forward, he swung his beefy hand first, and that was all the justification I needed to respond with equal and opposing force.