((Hey peeps, smee again. I got someone on tumblr asking if I would consider doing a sequel of ODFP, and while there are a couple of reasons I can't at the moment [lack of comics coming out and lack of chapter ideas], I've had the first four chapters of this sitting around since ODFP was finished, and I figure it's high time that gets uploaded. This is all I have so far, I've got a few ideas of where I want this to go, but any ideas/suggestions in my PMs would be a big help. I'm on summer break so I've got a crap load of time on my hands.

A few things about this fic: It is a high school AU, so they're all younger, more immature, and Spy isn't Scout's dad. There's also a lot more accent stuff in here. And a few things that probably won't jive with the comics. But, hey, it's an AU!

There are also Overwatch characters in here so that I don't have to make up a crap ton of different teachers. I apologize if any of them are out-of-character. I've watched the Overwatch videos and read the comics (as well as a fair bit of fics), so I should be pretty alright, but if I'm not don't hurt me pls. :)

So, yeah, enjoy!))


"Alright," the purple-clad teacher groaned. "Let's try this again."

She adjusted her glasses, cleared her throat, and started reading from her clipboard.

"Dell Conagher?"

"Here," a resigned Southern voice replied. The boy who raised his hand was a short, squarish figure with a pair of goggles around his neck. He was leaning back in his chair, a set of blueprints on his desk.

"Tavish de Groot?"

"Aye," a weary voice answered. The dark-skinned boy who replied looked ill. He had commandeered the trashcan and was holding it on his lap. A dark knit cap sat low on his head, almost covering the deep bags under his eyes.

"John Doe?"

"That's Jane Doe, lady! That's my name and I am proud of it!" The screaming boy's helmet shook back and forth on his head as he screamed at the teacher. He had hardly taken it off since he started school. He wore his school uniform with the crispness of a soldier.

"Please stop screaming indoors," the teacher said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Mikhail...B...Bb-"

"Вынести. Misha." a heavy Russian boy cut in. He shifted awkwardly in his desk, which he barely fit into. He was digging around in his bag, eventually pulling out a large sandwich. He grinned triumphantly, chuckling.

"Right. Misha Vynesti. Don't make a mess with that sandwich.

Pierre Revenant?"

"Oui," a sarcastic French accent cut in. A tall boy leaned against the back of the room, a hand posed over his face. He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and seemed to be waiting for the teacher to leave so he could smoke it.

"Josef Ludwig?"

"Hier," a sharp voice called out from the corner of the room. The bespectacled boy seemed to be annoyed that he was even here, and had his nose buried in a medical textbook. He pulled his jacket around him as the rest of the boys stared at him.

"Mick Mundy?"

"Yeh," an Australian boy with dark aviators muttered. He was half falling asleep, half wondering what kind of trajectory he'd have to get to get a spitball in the teacher's low-cut top. He'd taken off his cowboy hat like the teacher had asked him to, but he had refused to remove his sunglasses, which was part of what had gotten him in here.

"Jeremy Rodgers?"

"Here, but you can call me the love a'ya life." His Bostonian accent cut through the room, causing the teacher to glare. He gave her a shit-eating grin, and any onlooker would have noticed the struggle the teacher went through to keep from rolling her eyes.

"And...you." The teacher walked over to a thin boy, who had kept his head down on the desk and hadn't spoken the entire time. He didn't look up, even when the teacher tapped him on the shoulder. After a few minutes with no response, she gave up, sighing.

"Alright. Everyone's here. Now, you all know why you're here. I shouldn't have to explain anything to you. This is detention. You can study, you can sleep, the school doesn't really care. As long as you don't set anything on fire, blow anything up, or kill anyone, or drink or smoke or break any more school rules than you have already, you can do whatever you want. I'll be right outside, doing some paperwork. Don't get too loud, and you won't see my face for two hours."

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, ignoring the whistles Jeremy made at her.

"Man, I hate it when she leaves, but I love watching her go."

"Don't you ever stop flirting with women who are way out of your league?" Pierre asked.

"Hey, shut it, pretty boy," Jeremy cut back.

"So, what're you in here for?" Dell asked Jane. The rougher boy scoffed. "Something about 'acceptance' and 'not making fun of other people for being different' and all that hippie talk."

"You yelled at the ESL kids again, didn't you?" Dell sighed. "You've gotta stop doing that."

"Stop doing what? Fighting for the American way?"

Dell slapped his forehead as Jane started going into a long rant about truth, justice, and the American way.

"Is you okay?" Misha asked Tavish in broken English. Tavish looked up from his bucket wearily, smiling a little at the Russian boy.

"I'll be alrigh'. Jus' a little hungova, tha's all," he moaned before leaning back into his bucket to throw up.

"Why are you here?" Misha asked, trying to keep the conversation going. Tavish scoffed.

"Teachers caugh' me drinkin Everclear in one o'tha bathrooms. I'was worth i', though!" He chuckled.

"And you?" Misha asked Mick. The Australian played with his sunglasses. "I wouldn't take these off in class. Bloody wanka Mr. McCree kept trying ta take 'em off me."

"Aye, 'e's a arse," Tavish agreed.

"Well, maybe if you were not trying to sleep so much during his lessons," Pierre cut in. Mick glared at him. "Sod off. I bet you're in here for samthing stupid too."

Pierre rolled his eyes. "If you must know, they gave me detention for trying to sneak into restricted areas of the school."

"And why tha bloody 'ell were ya trying ta do that?" Mick asked. Pierre shrugged. "I wanted to see if I could get away with it."

He turned to Dell and Jane, his voice cutting off Jane's rant. "And you two? What are you hommes in here for?"

"He bullied the ESL kids," Dell explained, pointing to Jane. "They got me for stealing tools from the metalworking room. I've been working on this robot lately, and I was trying to get some new parts for it, but-"

"Yes, yes, very interesting," Pierre interrupted. He turned to Josef, who was still in his book. "What about you, tête de livre?"

Josef glared up at them. "I vas in the middle of trying out my latest experiment on reviving ze dead, und ze biology teacher valked in on me! He said zhat vhat I vas doing vas "Cruel and unusual treatment of animals" und sent me here."

"Reviving the dead?" Dell asked, suddenly very interested.

"Doch," Josef replied. "I vas experimenting vith some of zhe pigeons around zhe school. No human mistreatment vhatsoever."

"Say, I've been thinking about a machine like what you're talking about-"

"And you, Michelle?" Pierre asked Misha, cutting off Dell once again. Misha glared at him. "Name is Misha. I did nothing."

Mick scoffed. "You must've done samthin to get yerself in here."

Misha shook his head, a sad expression coming over his face. "Two boys fight. I stop the fighting. And they thought was me because I am stronger than teenie baby boys."

Tavish patted him on the back.

"Hey," Jeremy called from behind Dell. "Ain't ya gonna ask me how I got here?"

"Ne sais pas, ne se soucient pas," Pierre said. Josef nodded in agreement. Jeremy glared.

"I dunno what you just said, but screw you, I'm talkin' anyway. So I'm playin this game'a ball with the guys in the sandpit, and I hit this wicked homer-I'm talking high up-and it breaks right through the headmaster's window, and I mean shatters it. And she sticks her head out and starts yelling 'If I find you kids, I'm gonna wring your goddamn necks!' And we just book it out of there, man, faster than light, except Yuri, cause he's heavier and not as fast. And one of the teachers runs out and grabs him, and he starts screaming, 'It was Jeremy! It was Jeremy! Please don't take me!' And they drop him and chase me for what feels like forever, man, and then one of 'em finally jumps me and takes me down. That's how I got this," he pointed to a bruise on his cheek, "and that's how I got here."

The room was silent for a few seconds.

"I feel like I've lost some of my brain cells," Pierre groaned.

"Ye jast gave me me 'eadache back, Scoot," Tavish gagged.

"The headmistress did not say she was 'going to wring your goddamn necks'," Dell scoffed.

"Zhat was zhe most ridiculous story I have ever heard," Josef said, rolling his eyes.

"I have heard some far-fetched stories in my day, kid, but that just might be the worst," Jane agreed.

"Is probably fake story made to make leetle Jeremy look bigger," Misha nodded.

"My mam can tell better stories than that," Mick snorted.

"Alright then, screw you guys. What about him?" Jeremy pointed to the nameless boy at the front of the room. "How do you think he got here?"

The room was silent once again, this time in contemplation. Nobody really knew who the boy in the front of the room was, but they had all heard horrible things about him.

"I heard he set a teacher on fire."

"I thought it was a student?"

"I have seen him sneaking around zhe flammable material in zhe science lab…"

"I fear no boy. But that one...he scares me."

"I dinnae think I've seen 'im in any of me classes."

"I admit I have tried to follow him, but he's untraceable."

"He's a right spook, sneakin' around tha school with 'is face hidden."

The entire room looked over at the mysterious boy.

"And nobody knows his name?" Jeremy asked. Everyone shook their heads. The younger boy sighed, then suddenly turned on his heel and walked over to the boy. Everyone else reacted with various levels of fear and warning, and Dell tried to grab Jeremy, but he was too fast. He stopped in front of the silent boy and gave him a hard tap on the shoulder. He had to shake the boy, as he'd somehow managed to fall asleep.

The boy who looked up at him made Jeremy jump back. He had on a hoodie that covered his head, a dark pair of goggles that blacked out his eyes, and a bandana over his mouth that obscured the lower half of his face. The parts of the boy's face that Jeremy could see were pale and covered in scars.

The boy said something, but the volume at which he said it and the bandana over his face muffled his voice to an indecipherable level. He turned to the other boys, waving sleepily. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on, staring at the flame.

"You might wanna turn that off before the teacher comes in and sees you," Jeremy said nervously. The boy shrugged and turned off the lighter, putting it back in his pocket. He stretched out his arms, his hands covered by woolen gloves. He stood up, paced back and forth in the front of the class, and then sat down next to Dell. Dell stiffened a little, but didn't move. The boy seemed fairly harmless. The boy mumbled something, and Dell realized he could actually understand what they boy was saying.

"He said to call him Ignis, and he accidentally set the desk in his room on fire with a candlestick."

"You can understand him?" Pierre asked. Dell nodded, shrugging. "Dunno how."

Josef stretched, setting his book down. He pulled out a stack of papers and put them on his desk.

"What papers?" Misha asked. Josef glared at him. "I figure, since ve are stuck in here for a few hours, I might as vell do my homework. Zere ist no point in sitting around, twlittling our zumbs until Ms. Pauling releases us for dinner."

Misha stared at him.

"Vat? You never bothered to ask her name?" Josef asked, incredulous. Misha shrugged. "They yell too much. I do not listen."

Josef rolled his eyes. He turned to his papers, only to raise his eyebrows when he saw Misha struggle out of his desk and walk over with his own bag.

"Vat? Do you vant me to do your homework as vell?" Josef almost snarled. Misha shook his head vigorously, pulling his homework out of his bag and placing it on the desk next to Josef's.

"Help me. Please."

Josef stared at the papers. Misha was in the science level below him, so just doing his homework would have been easy for Josef. But Misha wanted to be helped instead?

"Vat do you need help vith?" Josef sighed.

"Oi, looks like the nerd's doin' his homework," Mick chuckled, shaking his head over to Josef and Misha. Pierre rolled his eyes. "But of course. We should all have our homework out. I see you have nothing to work on."

Mick scoffed. "Course not. The stuff I've got's not due till Friday."

"It is Wednesday."

"So? I can do it tomorrow."

Pierre sighed. "Procrastinator."

"I don't see you doin' any work!"

"Zat's because I have someone to do it for me."

"Wot, sam servant or samthin?"

"No. A student who does not want his secrets revealed on the Commons cork-board."

"Yer blackmailin' kids?" Tavish interjected, pulling his head out of his bucket. Pierre shrugged with one shoulder.

"That's no way to learn anything," Dell scolded.

"Zen where is your homework?" Pierre bit back.

"Did it in class," Dell admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Jane clapped him on the back. "That's more like it! Show those foreigners who's boss!"

Dell sighed, rolled his eyes, and went back to his blueprints, only to find Ignis staring at him. "You need something?"

Ignis pushed a couple of papers onto his desk. Dell looked them over, looked up at Ignis' hopeful expression, and smiled. "Alright."

Jeremy tried to get someone to help him with his homework, but Pierre and Mick were too busy trading insults about who was better at schoolwork, Tavish was too busy either falling asleep or puking, and Jane started giving him a lecture on why American history was the only history they should be learning when he tried to ask him. Eventually he sat down near Josef and Misha, who were working quietly.

Josef had learned quickly that, while Misha was big and didn't talk much, he was a quick learner when things were explained to him thoroughly. Also, he was fantastic at math. There was something about the Russian's brain that made large numbers a sinch. They were done with his homework in half an hour, and Misha even helped Josef with some of the math on his Statistics homework.

On the other side of the room, Dell was finding out that doing homework with a person who didn't communicate well was no easy task. Ignis was pretty horrible with most subjects other than English, and eventually Dell had to give up on trying to teach him basic algebra to preserve his own sanity. He took the papers from Ignis and scribbled down the answers in a few seconds, ignoring the smug look Pierre gave him.

As they entered the second hour, it started to rain outside. A loud crash of thunder woke Jeremy up, and made Mick jump in his chair.

"Scared of thunder, Australian?" Pierre sneered. Mick glared at him.

"I ain't. Just startled." Mick pulled the jacket of his school uniform around himself tightly, glaring at the French boy. Pierre snickered. "Worried you'll melt?"

"Course not. Just worried the rain'll ruin your perfect hair."

Pierre scoffed, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. It was slicked back so tightly it was almost part of his scalp. "It would be a shame to ruin such a perfect look," he said in all seriousness. Mick rolled his eyes. "You're full've it."

"It? If, by it, you mean charm, grace, and brains, then maybe you aren't such an idiot after all."

Mick's eyes almost rolled into his skull. Sure, maybe the French prick was kind of attractive, but he didn't have to be such a prick about it.

Another crash of thunder made Mick jump again, and this time he climbed out of his chair, walking over to the window. He was tall and lanky due to a recent growth spurt, and was easily one of the tallest people in the room. Pierre found himself staring for just a few seconds too long for his own taste, and quickly redirected his attention to the sleepy Jeremy.

"Aw, man, is it raining?" The younger boy jumped up, meeting Mick at the window. "Crap. That means I can't play ball tomorrow."

"No woodshop," Misha noted, disappointed. Dell took one look at the window and sighed deeply. "Boy, am I glad I brought those prototypes inside after Mechanics today." He leaned back in his chair.

Josef watched Misha look at his watch, then the clock on the wall. He reached into his bag and pulled out yet another sandwich.

"Whaddaya think they're having for dinner tonight?" Jeremy asked, walking back over and sitting down. Josef shrugged, a little surprised to be addressed by the jock.

"I just hope it's not zat awful stew zey had ze ozer night," he shrugged.

"The one that made the cafeteria smell like it was on fire? Yeah, I'm with ya on dat one." Jeremy nodded affirmatively.

Ignis poked his head up at the word "fire". Dell snorted, shaking his head. "I eat whatever they put in front of me."

"Qui est péniblement évident," Pierre muttered under his breath. Mick gave him a look. "Wot, like you've got some fancy cooks or samthin' to cook your meals?"

Pierre shook his head. "Of course not. I make my own lunch."

"Is in homely economics," Misha added. Mick laughed. "Of course. I can see it now. You in your fancy apron, sittin' in front of the stove, waitin' for your husband to come home. 'Good afternoon, sweetie. Do you want to eat your dinner first, or would you rather have me?'" He burst out into inappropriate laughter. Pierre went bright red.

"At least I make an effort to take care of myself, instead of walking around in a filthy uniform and making filthier jokes!"

"At least I'm not sam pansy neat-freak who irons his suit twenty times a day!"

"At least I don't go around pissing in jars!"

"THAT WAS ONE TIME!" Mick screamed, leaping at Pierre. He grabbed the French boy by the collar and pulled back a hand to his his face, only for Pierre to strike first. The two quickly dissolved into a nasty brawl, only to stop when Tavish stood up and started yelling.

"Could ya shut the bloody 'ell up? Some've us are tryin' ta sleep in 'ere! I can't ruddy think with you two goin' at it! Now stop it before you get us all in trouble!"

Pierre and Mick looked around at the other boys, who were staring at them with a mixture of shock and annoyance. They looked at each other, a little surprised that they had given in to fighting so easily. They moved to sit on opposite sides of the classroom, Pierre brushing his uniform off, Mick adjusting his sunglasses. They were both silent for the rest of detention.

As they neared the last half an hour, Dell stretched his arms and stood up, packing his blueprints and work away. He walked to the front of the classroom and paced back and forth, looking at the clock every few seconds.

"Time von't pass any faster by pacing," Josef said, a little annoyed. The pacing was driving him crazy. Dell just shrugged, walking back to his desk.

"How much longer do you have detention?" He asked, sitting down. Josef sighed. "All veek. Und you?"

Dell shrugged. "Probably the same. What about you, Misha?"

Misha shrugged back. "Did not say."

"I think I'm in here all week, too," Jeremy agreed, but he was ignored by most of the room. Ignis muttered something to Dell, who nodded. "Alright. Tavish?"

"Aye. I've got all week 'ere too."

"Same here," Jane grumbled, shaking his head as if to say, "Can you believe it?"

Pierre and Mick nodded from their sides of the room.

"Alright. Then we're in here all week. Might as well think'a something to do tomorrow. Any ideas?"

The room was silent. Jeremy put up a hand, but put it down when he saw everyone glaring at him. Dell sighed. Well, he'd tried.

"So, I guess we just sit in here and wait for the week to be over," he said boredly.

The room was quiet for the rest of detention. Finally, mercifully, Ms. Pauling came in at exactly two hours. "Alright. You're dismissed. Go to your dorms and clean up for dinner."

The crowd of boys almost ran out of the room, bumping into each other as they hurried to escape detention. Mick crashed into Josef, sending him sprawling on the floor. "Sorry!" he yelled, leaning down to help the smaller boy. Josef glared up at him at first, but then softened once he looked at Mick's face. He was a remarkable specimen, and Josef was glad he didn't blush as he took Mick's hand and pulled himself upward. Mick grabbed his books, which had gone flying when Josef fell over, and held them out. "There ya are. Safe and sound."

"Try not to knock me over tomorrow," Josef said, pretending to be annoyed. Mick nodded sheepishly.

The nine boys were enrolled in one of the most notorious military schools for boys in America, Teufort Academy. It was one of the few schools in the US that accepted applicants from outside the country, and it had a very strategic admissions system. Students had to come from families with mercenary backgrounds, or have high potential for military/mercenary work. Through a rigorous background check and numerous callbacks, students were selected based on their high potential. The school was infamous for raising some of the most violent soldiers, snipers, engineers, spies, demolitions mechanics, reconnaissancers, weapons technicians, battle medics, and pyromaniacs of the century.

Each boy had their own bed in their dorm rooms, and each dorm room had nine beds. Not all of the boys shared a room (Jeremy and Ignis were a grade below most of them and Josef was a grade above most of them), but those who did had somehow managed to avoid getting to know each other before now. Pierre and Mick were surprised to find that they shared the same room, especially since their beds were on opposite sides of the room. Jane and Tavish had already met, and had beds right next to one another. Ignis shared a room with Jeremy, much to the louder boy's chagrin. Josef's room was across the hall from Misha's, and Misha shared a room with Dell.

While they were busy getting ready for dinner, Ms. Pauling stepped into the headmistress' office with a nervous frown and a clipboard.

"Good afternoon, Headmistress," Ms. Pauling said. The Headmistress was seated at her desk, facing the large window that let light into her office. It was broken in the middle, and the shattered glass had just been cleaned off the floor an hour ago. A large blue tarp was hung over what was left of the window, so it was unclear what, exactly, the Headmistress was staring at.

"Pauling. You're here about your drama club again. Spit it out."

"We...still haven't found anyone willing to audition…"

"Then I suppose your efforts were all for nought, weren't they?" The Headmistress spat. "If you cannot find any members for your production, then there is nothing I can do. Your play is toast. Good day."

"Wait!" Ms. Pauling objected, stepping forward and placing her hands on the desk. "Please, Headmistress. A play would be perfect for letting some of these boys express themselves. And it would look great on their college applications! We could even put it on our fliers and start attracting more artistic students!"

"Have you forgotten what kind of school this is, Miss Pauling? This is not a charter school for young actors. This is a private military academy for students who plan on spending their whole lives killing other people. If you can't accept that, then you can just go back to your art room and do some fingerpainting." A thin plume of smoke slithered out from the Headmistress' lips, and Ms. Pauling tried not to cough at the obvious smell of tobacco. She gripped the desk with tight fingers.

"What about the boys in detention? Could we force them to do the play as part of their punishment?"

"Why would I care about a bunch of delinquents?"

"That's my point, Headmistress! They have nothing better to do, they're not our best and brightest students, half of them can't read! They're the ones who need something like this on college applications!"

"Again with the applications. They don't need to polish their resumes, Pauling."

"Not even Jeremy Rodgers?"

"Who?"

"Jeremy Rodgers, Headmistress. One of the boys in detention this week. He's the one who broke your window."

The Headmistress spun around, and Ms. Pauling tried not to flinch at the look of hungry victory in her eyes.

"Very well, Ms. Pauling. You may use these delinquents for your project, provided they do not get themselves into more trouble in the process. What play are you doing?"

"And Then There Were None, Headmistress."

"Does it have any female parts?"

"Three, Headmistress."

"Excellent."

As the Headmistress grinned at her, Ms. Pauling felt a chill run down her spine, and couldn't help but feel as if she'd just made a deal with the devil.