Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-13593058-20160813171701/@comment-13593058-20160815233723

"As I look at the lot of you..." Professor Summers began abruptly, "I see the faces of dependent children still clawing at the safety of your weapons, if they still resembled one." She began strutting through the aisles with her head held up high and hands at her back. The students around her cowered in fear not of her presense but her still present pistol held in her left hand.

Arriving at the second row, she noticed Cordovan fiddling with his stationary without much care in the world. Tyde, along with the rest of the students in the class, had already took notice of the proper iron maiden standing only a few feet from the duo. He, however, decided to keep his mouth shut to not provoke any unnecessary confrontation.

To his and other's relief, the professors brief tour of the class continued without incident and she returned to her podium.

"The art of war teaches us to not rely on the likelihood of the enemy's not coming, but on our own redines to receive him; not on his chnace of his not attacking, but rather on the fact that we have made our position unassailable. Of the 343 of you in here, exactly 78 of the males in this room have neglected to zip up their pants, 115 of the females are on their Scrolls and finally," she casually unveiled a familiar looking revolver from behind her back, "exactly one poorly maintained and neglected weapon." Professor Summers proceeded to stare at the cowboy, burning holes through his chocolate eyes.

Cordovon, however, seemed uninterested, or rather still, oblivious to the hole ordeal as he was perfectly content in his own pencil balancing game. Suddenly he felt a nudge by his side, calling his attention towards his partner who proceeded to direct his gaze to the podium.

"Shit." he mouthed, dropping the pencil and unconsciously positioning his hand onto his holster as he did. "When did she-?"

"About 25 seconds ago." the woman interjected. Without missing a beat, her two hands began work on Cordovan's firearm, moving a pin here, a mechanism there, and within seconds the weapon was reduced to a pile of rusty parts with which she dropped mercilessly onto the floor below. The individual pieces bounced up and down as did Cordovan's emotional well being, seeing his property dismantled without permission and in such a humiliating way.

"Now, let us have a hypothetical scenario where you are unarmed like Mr. Flintrock is at the moment." She continued her lecture and motioned for Cordovan to approach her at the stage