Redefining the Student/Teacher Relationship

Who: Tad and Hunt
Where: over the phone / Hunt's House
When: afternoon

Tad had barely registered anything from the whole ordeal once the officials arrived to hustle them out of the asylum. He'd been checked out by doctors and ushered home without another word. Grams had been worried, but she didn't ask him too many questions when he just sat in silence in the car on the way home. They'd asked questions of the officials, but no one had an answer and no one had seemed to care that their teachers and classmate were dead. It was all too fucked up.

Once they were home, Tad headed straight up to his room, even though Grams was calling after him that he should eat something. He figured she'd end up bringing him something or setting something out on the counter. She'd been slowly trying to let him take over complete control of his illness. It had been his doctor's suggestion and if he maintained things well enough she was willing to give him space. Hell, he was supposed to go to college next year after all.

What he wanted in his room was sitting on his desk, the scrap of paper that Mr. Hunt had written his number on. Kaysen had essentially talked him into calling before the nonsense on their trip. Now that he'd actually had to fight to stay alive, there was no questions that he'd call Mr. Hunt and ask for help. Without much hesitation he punched the number into his phone and listened the rings, hoping the teacher would pick up.

Hunt was in his basement, preparing for the night. It was full moon, after all - biggest hunting night of the month, especially considering what had gone down in the past here. Normally, he kept this room locked, with the key hidden where only he could find it. He didn't want some kind of unsuspecting 'visitor' to find what he wanted to keep hidden, after all. not that anyone should be able to get into his house without his say-so in the first place. He kept the place pretty tightly locked down, but one could never be too cautious.

He picked the phone up on the second ring, propping it between his shoulder and cheek as he continued reassembling the rifle he'd taken apart for clean. "Yeah?" he asked, giving no other greeting than that. After all, he didn't know who was going to be on the other end.

"Mr. Hunt? It's Tad." Tad was relieved the guy had answered. He was riding a lack of sleep and fear that motivated him to call. If Hunt hadn't answered, well Tad might not have had the nerve to call again. "You help me out with some guys at school last weekend?" He was so used to explaining who he was, it came naturally.

"Right, the guy that couldn't throw a punch to stand up to a bunch of guys who thought that it was 'cool' and 'wicked' to for them to pick on a single kid, right?" Hunt asked him with a distracted air. "You decided you want to learn how to fight back then?" he added, figuring that taking the kid out on a werewolf hunt probably wasn't the best introduction. Though possibly he'd make for good bait...

Tad flinched a little. When Hunt put it that way he really did sound like a damned loser. "Yea, that guy. And yes. Are you still willing to help?"

"Wouldn't have given you my number if I wasn't," Hunt pointed out, clicking the last bit of the rifle into place, sighting it then laying it down on the table. He stood up, heading for the stairs. "When were you thinking?" he asked.

"Whenever. Now?" Tad offered. He didn't have much else going on today. Plus he was motivated, and that was the best mood he could be in for doing this. "I can meet you wherever."

Hunt hit the top of the stairs and turned, firmly and securely locking the basement door behind him before he answered. "My house - soon as you like," he said, decisively, before rattling off the address. After all, out in public and he'd probably get arrested for beating up a kid. Even if the punches were going the other way. People could be so fucking sensitive at times.

Tad scribbled down the address on the same paper with the number. "Yea I can be there in a little bit. It's not too far from here." He was already pulling Porter's computer out of his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. "Thanks," he offered before hanging up. A second later he was moving down the stairs, stopping briefly in the kitchen to grab the snack that Grams had laid out and then he was headed towards the garage to grab his bike.

He had hours to kill until moonrise, Hunt knew. He knew it down til the last second. He'd checked. He could spare the time. And he didn't have to worry about the environment. With the basement off-limits, his house looked like nothing but a perfectly normal place, nothing to give anything away. Not that he expected any trouble from the kid - not after what he'd seen so far. So, he got himself a glass of water and waited for the arrival of his student.

Tad was pedaling at breakneck speed, probably faster than he should have been going, but his mind wasn't really focused on safety. Since the last attack, right before help came, he'd been making a list of things he wanted to learn how to do. First was this, and he'd milk it for whatever it was worth. If Mr. Hunt wanted to teach him how to fight then Tad would learn. Next he wanted to know how to shoot. The ideal person to ask would be Dean, but Tad wasn't sure how his friend would feel about introducing Tad to that kind of violence. It would be a difficult subject to bring up, but it might have to come up eventually. He pulled into Hunt's driveway, sliding to a stop and dropping his bike next to the walk to the front door. It was a normal enough looking house, modest as would be expected with a teacher's salary. He rang the bell at the door, looking this way and that, taking in everything around him. A quick glance at his feet caught him off guard. His black chucks were stained with blood.

his shoes were the first thing that Hunt noticed as he opened the door and scanned the guy over. "Come in - and I guess you have a story then," he said, taking a step back from the door. Didn't look like the blood belonged to the kid - not all of it, anyhow.

Tad was a little taken aback, but he moved inside quickly. "A story?" Did Mr. Hunt know about what happened? Had it been on the news how an entire group of high school kids went missing and their chaperones were murdered?

Hunt rolled his eyes and headed back toward the kitchen. "Take your shoes off, kid - I don't need blood on my carpets," he said, lightly. Of course, the stuff looked dry, but still, there was more humour in his tone than anything else. he didn't know what had happened, but unless Tad had a weekend job working in an abattoir - which he considered unlikely - there was a story there.

Tad looked down at his feet again, bending over to pull off his shoes. They really were a mess, and he wasn't sure if he'd actually be able to get the stains out. "You mean the blood right?" If Hunt had just noticed it on his shoes, then maybe he didn't know. "We were attacked on our school trip. The teachers were murdered. I think this is theirs. Or well mostly."

"I'd get new shoes - blood never comes out. Not totally," Hunt advised. "You hurt at all? And what were you attacked by? Come on - you may as well tell me the whole story - including how you dealt with it," Hunt advised, turning back to face Tad as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, waiting. Of course, he knew he'd never return the favour, never give out information to a relative stranger just because they asked for it. But that was him - this was a kid being faced with questions from an adult. hunt knew he had fairly even, if not good, odds that the kids would just spill simply because he thought he should. Don't ask, don't get. And he wanted to know.

The idea of getting new shoes saddened Tad a little. He was pretty attached to these, even though they were ruined. When Hunt asked about the whole ordeal though, he focused on the man again, curious about what he should say. The paramedics and the officials on the scene hadn't really listened to their story, and no one had certainly asked about what happened. More specifically though, no one had said not to say something. "Um, well we were supposed to be on this touchy-feely connect with ghosts trip, which is stupid by the way, and the first night I wake up 'cause Porter's freaking out and go outside of our dorm room to find our teacher in bits on the floor. When we went looking for the other one he'd been mauled in his bed." Tad paused before going on, watching Hunt closely to see his reactions. "So we found the girls and all made our way to the chapel of the place cause it was holy ground or whatever, but that only kept them off for a while cause one of 'um grabbed a girl in my class and then later they just barged through an attacked us." This was where it got tricky. How did he explain that Dean shot one, when he wasn't supposed to have a gun on a school trip, or even worse Kaysen's pyrotechnics. "I got a couple of good hits in, but got tossed into a bench pretty hard." For extra effect he raised his shirt and turned a little to show Hunt. The bruises had started to show just before help arrived and now, a full day or so later they were rather obvious and ran along most of his side.

Hunt assessed the bruising then met Tad's eyes. "Bit late for an icepack for that," he agreed. "Good that you got a few hits in though. So - what was it, and tell me why you headed for holy ground," Hunt said, pulling out a chair from the table for Tad, and sitting down himself, turning the chair round  so that he could rest his arms on the back. The look on his face was interested, there wasn't a moment that he looked like he doubted Tad, or would disbelieve anything he had to say. He figured the kid possibly had been up against demons and, if that was the case, he was surprised - and kind of impressed. Not many people would have made it out of that alive. tad had just gone up in his estimation.

"Icepack wasn't really an option," Tad quirked, but dropped his shirt and moved to sit at the table. Once seated he didn't start talking again until after he'd really looked at Hunt. What Tad saw was what Hunt wanted him to see, someone who could be trusted, and someone who wouldn't think Tad had lost his mind. "Someone tossed around the term 'demon' but I'm not sure. It's not like I've seen one before. That was why we headed towards holy ground, just in case right? Didn't make sense though, them just barging in like that, like it wouldn't stop them. Makes me think maybe they weren't? But then I don't really know how all that stuff works."

"Barging in like that?" Hunt questioned, pushing the guy in the direction he wanted him to go. "Like how - these demons get on holy ground? What did they look like?" he asked. He hadn't faced many demons in his time, but he'd studied. He didn't know why he hadn't faced more - his past was a blur. he remembered learning, hunting, then there was nothing, and he was older, and his life was just a hunt now and nothing in between seemed to matter. That was the only explanation for the dark spots.

"One came through the door, the other jumped through a window," Tad told him like that was obvious. "And I dunno how to describe them. Ugly. With black hair? Big too, with huge claws." And they smell like overcooked fish when they burn. He shook his head a little, letting the vision of the charred remains blur out of focus again.

"Skin colour? height? Hell, You get me in the right light and I have black hair," Hunt pointed out, finding the description inadequate. "Think, Tad - tell me what you saw. What you actually saw. Never mind the violence and the blood, never mind what happened. For a moment, put that all to one side, slow it down and describe to me what you saw."

Slowing it down and focusing harder was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was willing to try. Tad's eyes glazed over slightly as he thought hard. "It was big, but not really tall, like a short football player." He replayed the thing lunging towards them after crashing through the door. His view had been mostly from behind where its hair had been thickest. "The hair was definitely black, went down its whole back, not just like long hair, but ran down its back." Then the chair leg had tangled and he'd hit the bench which had stunned him. But he remembered it clawing Thom, and it's arm right before he hit it. "Black skin and claws. Or long nails. I can't be sure I didn't get a good look." He looked up at Hunt now, wondering if his new description was better, hoping to see that he'd pleased the man.

Hunt mused that over, recognising the description. "Sounds like a rakshasa," he told the teen. "I've never seen one in the flesh, but I'd read about them - seen pictures. The eyes - were they red? Yellow maybe? It would make sense with the holy ground as well. They're fucked up - demons can't go on holy ground, but apparently rakshasa can't seem to get that through their heads. They're masochistic fuckers - will keep trying to get on there, like they're testing the theory or something."

"Maybe red, again, didn't get a good look," Tad offered. "How does that work exactly, the whole no demons on holy ground? Obviously it's not a wall sorta thing, like a vampire who hasn't been invited into your home." He wasn't really sure on the vampire lore; but it was used often enough that it very well could be rooted in truth.

Hunt considered that for a moment before answering. "Think of it like a building on fire," he told Tad, unconsciously switching into a 'teaching' tone and posture, explaining things in a way meant to educate. "You know that if you go into a burning building, then it's not going to be nice for you, it could be very unpleasant, and it could possibly hurt, or kill you. But then imagine that there's something in that burning building that you really want. That's very important to you. That risk to yourself goes down - the possible consequences stay the same, but how you view them changes. It's a bit like that, only demons are creatures of evil. They have very different priorities to us."

Tad thought about this, turning over the information in his head. Of course thinking of burning buildings made him think of Kaysen, which was a little distracting. There was so much between them that he hadn't figured out yet either, but that would have to come from someone other than Hunt. "So it's not that they physically can't go on holy ground, it's just dangerous. So if there's something they really want then it might be worth the risk?"

"With a rakshasa, apparently so. Like I said, they're not the smartest demons from the looks of things. Won't work for all demons though, which depending on what you want, could be good or bad. If you're looking to hide, then being on holy ground with most demons will keep you safe. But not against a rakshasa, because they'll try and come after you anyhow. If you're looking to fight, and you're facing a rakshasa, then getting them onto holy ground will work to your advantage, because they'll be weakened," Hunt explained, twisting the issue round to look at it from different angles.

Tad scratched absentmindedly at the scab over the cut on his eyebrow while he tried to place this new information. "That's probably part of why we were able to take them down then, the whole weakened thing."

"Probably - so, sorry, just because you killed a demon doesn't mean you're all geared up for going and doing that again in the future. But, knowing your limits is the first lesson," he added, getting to his feet, reminding Tad that he was here to learn. "First lesson - know your limits. Be aware of what you can and can't do. Learn to assess your enemy. Be smart, pick your battles. And remember - fighting fair is all well and good if you outmatch them, but winning is always the key. Don't stick to a set of rules that you've got held up if what it means is you're going to lose. Use everything you have, winning is your goal."

Tad didn't point out that fighting a demon with a chair leg was something he had in mind for his next fight. Nor did he correct Hunt and point out that really Kaysen had killed it when she set it on fire. He did get to his feet, and took in every word Hunt said. "How exactly am I supposed to figure out my limits?"

"Get to know yourself," Hunt said, treating him seriously now. "Only you can really know what you are and aren't capable of. Don't lie to yourself - whether by telling yourself you're not good enough, by selling yourself short, or by thinking you're better than you are. Both will do you no favours in the end. So, let's start - how did you react to the demons? What was your first instinct. Be honest, please."

"At first, I didn't do much of anything. I noticed the thing had come in the door exactly the way it was supposed to because Thom and I pushed the benches a certain way to funnel anything that came through the door." Tad thought back, slowly going over those seconds. "I didn't have a chance to do anything right away because Thom lunged at it and then drew it away from us." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, visualizing the set up of the room. "See it came from that way, and then it chased Thom that way," he explained pointing out the flow of action. "Once its back was turned I saw a chance, grabbed an old chair leg and came at it from behind, sort of a running blow? I meant to just hit it and duck out of the way but the chair leg got tangled in hair and I ended up losing my balance. That's when I got the bruises."

"Whose idea was it to move the benches?" Hunt asked, his attention drawn to the fact that there had been some kind of plan there. And some teamworking, at least on a small scale. He wondered if the other boy had gone in first on purpose, but that kid wasn't his business. This kid was.

"Huh?" Tad hadn't been expecting Hunt to ask about the benches. That seemed almost unimportant to him. "Um, I guess it was Thom's to move them, but they were really heavy so I suggested instead of just barricading the door we shift them so that if anything came through it would naturally go a specific direction. So we pushed them in sort of a 'V'...I'd thought it would be ideal to lead them that way and then have an attack from behind but I think were were still hoping it wouldn't come through the door."

Hunt smiled a little at the look he got. "Planning and preparation is important. Remember what I said about choosing your battles. If you can prepare the ground ahead of time, then you're fighting on your own terms. Proper preparation can shift the odds pretty heftily in your favour, it can make all the difference. Like, for example, making sure that something goes where you want it to go. So, good call there," he added, giving out praise where it was warranted.

"Um thanks," Tad said, flushing the slightest bit. When he'd run into Hunt in the parking lot, the guy had been lacking in positive reinforcement, but this time he seemed far more encouraging. Still he wasn't sure how this was supposed to help with dealing with jocks at school.

"Okay - why did you attack it the way you did?" Hunt asked, the bullies at school completely forgotten in the face of a real fight, one that he considered to actually be important. If you could learn to fight demons, after all, a few members of the football team weren't going to phase you.

"Like from behind? I dunno. It had claws and seemed more dangerous from up front. So attacking it from behind seemed logical, avoid the sharp parts. Would have been more effective to stab it rather than hit it, but you work with what you have on hand." Tad shrugged, not sure what the point of this question was either. "It's like a video game, it's easier to hit something when it's not attacking you head on."

"Assuming that they're not expecting that, sure," Hunt agreed, walking over the other side of the kitchen and turning his back on Tad. "Try me," he said, waiting for the guy to attack him.

This was where Tad thought the whole ordeal was a little ridiculous. Talking about defenses was one thing but being put in a situation where he was supposed to just attack Hunt seemed weird. The guy was a teacher, and though Tad didn't have tons of respect for the faculty at the high school, he'd not had a run in with Hunt while at school and thus the man still held an authority figure position in his mind. Trying to get the jump on the guy seemed wrong.

But he was waiting for Tad to make a move and Tad was here to learn, so he pushed aside his concerns and focused on his inner Karate Kid. His socked feet made minimal noise as he crossed the kitchen. Just as with the demon, his path would put him in place to swing and then move to the side beyond Hunt.

Hunt listened for the sounds of someone moving, and watched the shadows and light in the room, using the little things to know when Tad was attacking. And, as the kid did, he stepped to one side and turned, bringing his hand up to block the attack.

Tad had thought he was moving stealthily but when Hunt side stepped and turned, Tad missed him by a mile and almost got clocked in the face by the block. His socks slid a little on the linoleum, but he caught his hand on the counter to keep from falling. "So maybe that doesn't work as well when you know I'm coming or you're not distracted in another direction."

Hunt stepped back. "Right, so, lesson two - distraction is good. Whether there's someone else with you, or you can create a distraction yourself somehow, making sure that what you're fighting isn't solely focus on you is going to give you an advantage. Conversely, don't let yourself get distracted. Always keep a focus on what you're doing - but not so much so that you're not aware of your surroundings. You've got to be able to concentrate on your target and the surrounding area at the same time. You need to work on your peripheral vision. Naturally, men have pretty poor peripheral vision - their visual focus is out front. Not quite tunnel vision, but not full field either. But you can widen that out. If you practice looking at things without actually looking at them, concentrating on objects at the very edges of your vision, your field of vision will gradually widen, you'll be able to see more."

Tad nodded and wondered if he should be writing this down. "Okay," he agreed, already working on concentrating on both the periphery and Hunt at once, which was giving him a headache. "How am I supposed to distract something if it's just me. With the demons, well they were looking in different directions both times, focusing on someone else."

"that's something that's situational," Hunt admitted. "On a simple level, wait til your opponent isn't looking at you, grab a rock off the ground and throw it off to one side to create an unexpected noise. Surely you've seen that one done in the movies."

"You've got to be kidding. That sort of shit can't actually work in real life," Tad said, grinning. That was the cliche movie action, distract the bad guy with a rock or a string tied to a tree branch and then when he goes off to investigate, beat him in the back of the head. People weren't actually as dumb as the standard uncredited henchmen or storm troopers in movies seemed to be.

Hunt shrugged. "Sure, not all the time - but even the lame stuff can work in the right situation. The key is learning when that right situation is. But - that really only comes from experience. I won't lie to you, Tad. You wanna learn this shit and a whole lot of it's gonna be trial and error. Work out what works for you. Work out what your strengths are and play to them. You get knocked down, you get right back up again and you keep fighting. Something doesn't work for you, then either work out how to make it work, or avoid that in future. Nobody can teach you a play by play for any situation. This isn't team sports, and there isn't a given set of rules. What I can teach you though is how to punch hard and how to move the hell out of the way when someone punches back."

Tad frowned, wondering again what it was he was being trained for exactly. Learning out to fight off bullies was one thing, but he really felt like Hunt was trying to teach him to fight something else all together. "How'd you learn all this?" Tad asked, his voice full of curiosity and a smidge of wonder.

"From my parents," he said, honestly. "And from a lot of other people - I picked up what people would teach me." He remembered that he hadn't always been willing to learn. His parents, though, had been insistent that he learn whatever any of the hunters that they ran with could teach him. Being a hunter was his birthright and his training had been rigorous. He'd been a particularly apt student, for all he hadn't always enjoyed his lessons. So much of it had been theory though. He couldn't understand that. The years had passed - yet he didn't have memories of very much practical experience. He didn't know why. But that didn't feel so important to him. The hunt was what was important, the future. Not the past.

"Lucky, my parents never taught me much of anything," Tad said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. It seemed like eons ago, but Eben had help shine a less than glamorous look on his parents. The issue was one he'd planned on dealing with but the demon attack had been distracting. "Kind of an odd bit of training for a teacher to pick up though."

"Got to learn before you can teach, kid. And life has a lot of lessons," Hunt told him, stubbling over that reference to him being a teacher again. He was a hunter - he'd been born to be a hunter, and that's all he was. Nothing more, nothing less.

Tad gave Hunt one of his raised eyebrow looks at that. "I didn't realize there was a self defense class over at the high school." Something was weird about this whole thing. Hunt had dodged his occupation the last time they'd talked too. Tad was beginning to wonder if there'd been some sort of scandal that was the reason he'd left.

"There probably isn't. I didn't realise we were talking about the high school," Hunt replied. "Now, do you want to learn what I have to teach you, or should I just turn you loose to face whatever's coming at you on your own?" he posed.

He opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again when Hunt continued. The whole miscommunication thing wasn't really making sense, but Hunt was the only teacher he had. It wasn't worth the risk. "I want to learn, whatever you got I want to learn it," he answered eagerly.

"Good," Hunt said, rolling his shoulders around. "We'll start with the basics - punching and blocking. How to keep on your feet, and how not to get hit. That should give you a solid base to start from," he added, stepping forward.

Tad nodded, weirded out by aspects of this whole thing, but still set on learning. At least throwing and blocking punches seemed more reasonable than attack approaches. "Okay. Let's do this."