— dix-sept ; seventeen —

THEY HADN'T EVEN LEFT the locker room yet, and Lucas was already smashed.

Henri had to admit, he wasn't entirely sober himself. The upperclassmen had been relentless with the shots, even when Loren was left gagging after her third shot and Lucas had to run to the sink because he thought he was going to throw up after the fourth. Kit had knocked five back without much fuss and Henri didn't find getting it down particularly hard either, so the two of them were given an extra one, "for fun". Not that there had been much of a choice there. Now Henri was already losing the feeling in his lips and his vision felt a little fuzzy.

But Lucas had clearly taken the alcohol straight to the head and could barely get his uniform on. The upperclassmen had already filed out, so Kit and Henri were left with the task of yanking his jersey on. "When I was told I was signing up with the Ravens, I did not think it would entail this," Kit huffed, trying to pull Lucas's arm through the jersey. "Putting clothes on men."

Henri snickered. "A little too gay for you, huh?"

"And not for you?"

Henri wasn't given a chance to respond, because Lucas groaned and slumped against the lockers with only half his jersey pulled on. "I can't do this," he whispered. "I've never played dealer before. I've only ever played defence, it's all I know and it's all I'm good at — I'm going to die!"

"Of course we're going to die," Henri said. "That's the point. They don't seriously expect us to go out on that court and play well in different positions while we're drunk."

"Drunk," Kit scoffed. "It'll take more than a few shots to get me drunk."

Lucas barely seemed to have heard them. "And my dad will kill me. I've never drunk before and he would never let me, not just because I'm underage, but because...Exy...how can I play? Like this? I can't feel my feet and I'm so sleepy. Just wanna sleep. It's too early for this."

Henri exchanged a look with Kit. "Look, you'll just have to get on with it," he said. "Another ten minutes and one of them will be in here wondering what's taking so long. You saw Jude choke me? Yeah, they don't hold back."

Apparently that was enough to get Lucas moving, because he became considerably more cooperative in wrestling his gear on despite how drunk he was. That was when Henri, only half-dressed himself, realised the mound of goalkeeper gear sitting on the bench was for him. He eyed it with some consternation. He saw how bulky goalies looked on court — Henri didn't think he could even stand dressed up like that when sober, forget with alcohol pumped into his system.

He picked up a piece of thick padding. "Uh..."

"Jesus," Kit groaned. "Not you too."

"I'd like to see you try and put all this shit on."

It took both Kit and Henri to strap every piece into place. Lucas tried to help, but after accidentally poking Kit in the eye and elbowing Henri in the side, he slumped to the floor and began filling the silence with his worried thoughts. An anxious drunk, Henri decided, wrestling on his oversized choker to protect him from a stray ball. Or maybe he was just an anxious person and the alcohol brought it to the forefront. When Henri was finally geared up, he had no idea how Benjamin or Loren managed this. He already felt like he was drowning and overheating.

The others were waiting on the inner court when they made their way out. Loren looked particularly small without the gear Henri was now wearing, her long gold hair braided back and her green eyes already a little unfocused from the alcohol. He was surprised to see one extra face among the upperclassmen — Soren was awake too. Henri let his gaze linger on him for only a second before looking away. He was still pissed off about the night before and didn't need to cloud that judgement now that he was a bit drunk. Whatever reason Soren had decided to come watch, he didn't care.

Matthias patted Henri's helmet. "Ready to get out there?"

"This is stupid," Henri replied. "What are you going to get out of this?"

"Entertainment, for starters," Aria snorted.

"And this will definitely be entertaining. Look, this one's already drunk," KJ said in amusement, gesturing to Lucas. He had to rely on his racquet to hold himself upright and when everyone turned to look at him, he stumbled right into the benches. "Maybe he'll knock himself out if we're lucky."

"Please no," Lucas groaned.

"Goalie and striker, you're on first," Alixis ordered. "Let's start with a shootout to warm you up."

It took Henri's fuzzy brain a moment to realise that was his call and that was only when Xander nudged him gently towards the court. He dragged the heavy racquet he'd been given, far heavier than any racquet he'd ever used with a flat net rather than a scooped one, and wondered just how badly he was about to fuck this up. He found little consolation in the fact Loren looked a little more gone than he felt and that she'd probably be as good as a striker as he would be a goalkeeper.

"Hey," he said, struggling to keep up with Loren in his gear as they walked across the court. "Question. How the hell do you defend a goal in this get up?"

Loren managed a smile. "Years of practice and falling over."

"Right." Henri shook out his arms in an attempt to bring some of the feeling back. "Any last minute tips because I make a complete ass of myself?"

"Just that I'll be joining you in being a complete ass," Loren mumbled. "I have no fucking clue what it takes to be a striker. That was always Soren's area of expertise."

"Fuck Soren," Henri said, and maybe with a little too much heat, because Loren blinked at him in surprise. "I mean...I bet you'll be better than him. Don't care if he's some supposed hotshot Ravens striker."

"Yeah, sure," Loren laughed. "And maybe you'll be a better goalkeeper than me."

"Hey, maybe I will. You never know."

Henri knew there wasn't a chance in hell he would be even slightly decent as he found his position at goal. From his position at half-line, he'd never truly appreciated how wide the goal was and the distance between the goal lines which he now had to cover. Loren scooped up a ball from the bucket, bouncing the racquet as if to test the weight, but there was an impatient bang on the wall telling her to hurry up. Henri didn't get a chance to look to see who it was. Loren twisted the racquet and fired.

It didn't matter that he could barely move, because the shot went wide and the ball didn't come close to the goal. Loren's next attempt was a little closer and on her third shot, she managed to get the ball between the lines. Henri tried to bring the racquet up to block it but his instincts had gone whack and it was too heavy to move as fast as he liked. He was a second too late and the goal lines flared up red. By some miracle, the next time Loren's ball came near the goal, he managed to catch it in his glove. He had a feeling it had more to do with how unsteady she was on her feet than his goalkeeping.

The rest of the shoot-out went as abysmally as it begun, for both of them. Of the half of the shots that came within the region of the goal, Henri only managed to stop half of those. There was also a fair amount of times he tripped over his own feet as he tried to reach out to stop the ball and he didn't need to hear the laughter from inner court to know it was there. There were also a few instances Loren accidentally managed to hit him with the ball — not lethal, considering that was the purpose of the gear, but not fun either.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, for what felt like the hundredth time when the ball slammed into his leg.

"It's fine," he said through gritted teeth. "No problem. All good."

When Alixis finally took pity on them and let them come off, swapping Kit and a distraught Lucas on for a different Ravens drill, Henri was more than glad to yank his sweaty helmet off. Naturally, he got more than a couple of taunts about how awfully he'd played but they were easy enough to ignore. He was more interested in Soren's reaction. He was saying something to Loren as he guided her to the benches, possibly comfort or more likely tactics for playing striker, but he glanced up as if sensing Henri's gaze. Henri had vowed to take an oath of silence against him after last night, but his curiosity won the battle out against stubbornness.

"What are you doing here?" Henri asked.

"I am captain and this is my court. I can be here if I want."

Henri scoffed. "At five in the morning?"

"We have practice in two hours anyway," he said. "And those idiots woke me up with their stupidity anyway."

His pointed look towards KJ and Matthias earned a roll of his eyes from the former and a laugh from the latter. "Aw, jealous we didn't dump water over your face, Soren?" Matthias cooed. "Don't worry, we'll make sure to be fully inclusive next time."

"Leave me out of your pointless hazings."

"Hey, anyone thinking little Moreau doesn't look drunk enough?" Aria studied him with with a mock scrutiny and tipped her head towards Benjamin. "He must have a stupidly high metabolism to ruin our fun. I think he needs a little more, to hit him properly. Maybe the whiskey this time?"

"Or the tequila," Matthias suggested. "I've been wanting to bust that out for a while."

"Fuck off," Henri said.

"Nope, that's not the right answer."

Benjamin pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the cooled with a wicked smirk. "How about some of this?"

Henri was wondering whether batting the bottle from his hand would get him killed but Lucas provided ample distraction. Despite the fact they were practising drills, and no checks were involved, he went crashing headfirst into one of the walls. His helmet saved him from a concussion and Kit had him on unsteady feet only a couple of seconds later, although Henri doubted Lucas would be getting anywhere with those drills.

"Jesus," Xander said mildly. "Maybe we shouldn't have gone in for five shots straightaway."

"Nah, it's more fun this way," KJ said. "Guess what would be more fun? Seeing Moreau like that."

Henri gritted his teeth, resigned himself to another day spent puking in the toilet, and stuck his hand out. "Give it to me, then," he said impatiently. "Seeing as the lot of you are too pussy to touch this much."

It was obvious bait but Benjamin took it easier than Henri excepted. "Pussy?" he growled, twisting off the lid aggressively. "Fuck you. I could double your weight in alcohol content."

"You're a fucking idiot, Benji." Alixis pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation when Benjamin swigged back the alcohol. "We have practice in an hour or so."

Henri smirked. "An easily manipulated idiot."

Benji wiped a hand across his mouth and shoved the bottle in Henri's hand. "Think you could even come close to that?" he demanded.

"Easily," Henri said in a bored tone. They would make him drink it anyway, so he might as well rile couple of them up while he was at it.

Soren shook his head. "You'll regret it."

"Since when did you care?" He nodded when Soren stayed silent. "Exactly. So shut up."

The whiskey tasted as disgusting as he expecting but he tried to swallow without tasting it, managing a few gulps before lowering the bottle. Loren was watching him through her fingers and grimaced as if she was the one drinking.

"Feel drunk?" Matthias took the bottle back and grinned. "Drunk enough to make out with me?"

"I'll never be drunk enough for that," Henri retorted.

Aria rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. What I saw can't be unforgotten."

"That's enough," Alixis called onto court, banging on the plexiglass. Lucas had just dropped his racquet for the hundredth time and didn't bother picking it up again. "Okay, time for a scrimmage. Me, Benji, Jude, and Matthias against the rookies."

Henri leant against the bench as the world began wobbling and decided how disastrous this would be with a glance at Jude. He didn't look particularly murderous as he pulled his gloves on but Henri didn't think that would matter. He was an intoxicated dealer shoved into goalkeeper gear to defend a goal, with his body vulnerable, against a seasoned striker who had choked him only days ago. He probably should have been more worried but the one good thing about the alcohol clouding his senses was that it made it harder for him to give less of a fuck than he already did.

"My god," Lucas said, when he saw them filing on. He sagged against his racquet. "I can't play anymore. I really, really think I'm going to throw up. Really...really — "

"Aim for them if you puke," Henri advised. "Then this shitshow will all be worth it."

At least I don't have to move, Henri thought, as he settled in at the goal. It was a desperate grab at some kind of silver lining but he was willing to take it. Watching Lucas flounder in an attempt to find his spot at the half-line Henri was so familiar with told him how much of a trainwreck he would be when running and passing. At least Henri could just stand here and watch the goals flying past him without having to move, because he was certain he would trip over himself. There was no point trying to block the shots because he would never in a million years be able to stop them.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. Lucas was given first serve and Alixis had checked him before he could even think about passing. The ball was in Jude's possession in less than a beat and the shot he made in the next few seconds dashed Henri's hopes of just letting the goals come in. He saw the ball flying straight for him but his body and mind were reacting slower than usual, and couldn't stop it hitting him in the stomach. There was far more force behind it than when Loren had scored and even his gear couldn't stop him getting a little winded.

Henri snatched up the ball with a scowl. "You motherfucking — "

He didn't want to risk throwing the ball up when chances were high he'd miss the hit, so he balanced the ball on his flat net and whacked it with as much as force as he could straight at Jude. He managed to duck out of the way just in time but judging from the filthy look he shot Henri, it had been a close call. Henri responded by slamming his racquet against the wall and ignored the goal lines flaring red with a false point. Jude didn't care about scoring, that much was clear.

Obviously, things unravelled quickly from there. Lucas was struggling to even run in a straight line, Kit had no chance of checking Jude because he couldn't even keep on his mark, and Henri didn't think Loren even touched the ball once. Then there was the battle that was suddenly unfolding between Jude and Henri, which involved seeing who could hit who with the ball. Bonus points if you managed to catch the head. Jude was naturally better, catching Henri on every part of his body, but pure frustration fuelled past his drunkenness and lack of agility in new gear. His temper boiled a little higher with each hit and he finally snapped when yet another ball bounced of his head.

Jude was already turning away, so unconcerned about any pass Henri would make that he didn't have to wait and see. Henri responded to that by throwing his racquet down and snatching up the forgotten ball, throwing it as hard as possible at Jude. That definitely got his attention. He whirled around after it hit his back and stalked towards Henri, but he was ready. It didn't matter that he was drunk. He still remembered every point he could use to break a man and the Master wasn't here to stop him this time.

Jude jabbed a finger at him. "What the fuck — "

Henri didn't let him finish his sentence. He grabbed his hand, squeezing down on the pressure point just below the joint of the thumb hard enough to make Jude's knees buckle. He shoved him down by the shoulder from there to his knees and kneed him in the back hard enough that he hissed in pain even through his gear. Henri yanked both his arms back, maybe a little harder than he should have, but he was fuelled by a terrible combination of rage and alcohol. Wildly, he wished he had the knife he'd hidden in his drawers. He was so sick of being treated this way, not just the hazing now but every time they'd done something.

"Fuck you," Henri growled, echoing the same words he'd never managed to finish before the Master intervened. There was no one to stop him as he leant down now. "This is for every time you have been a complete piece of shit and I've wanted to kick you in the face for it."

Jude hissed in pain when Henri pulled his arms a little higher. "I'm going to fucking kill you when — "

"When what?" Henri laughed without humour. "When I let you go? I won't, Jude. I'll just snap your arms and leave you to bleed."

Matthias was the first to reach them as he jogged over and pulled up short as he caught the tail end of Henri's threat. "Fucking hell, Henri," he said, staring at him. "What kind of drunk are you?"

"Don't you dare," Alixis warned, but he heard the undertone of fear when she saw how easily Henri could break Jude's arms. "Let him go. Now."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do," Henri snapped.

"Moreau — "

Henri scowled at her. "Don't."

He knew he was letting his temper get away from him in an uncontrolled way he would never normally allow, but he was finding it hard to find a reason to hold back. If he did this, they'd back off. All of them. He couldn't imagine any of them would ever give him shit again if they watched him snap both of their friend's arms. The alcohol pounding through his system fuzzed over the reality and made it feel so much easier to finally get some satisfaction for everything they'd put him through.

All the others had reached the scene now and seemed shocked at the sight, Jude pinned to the floor with Henri so close to putting him out of training for weeks. Only Soren looked unsurprised. He'd been the one Henri flipped out on with the knife after the first trial and had seen his temper come this close to breaking point before.

"Henri," Xander said, his eyes a little wide. "Don't do this. You know you'll regret it."

"No," Henri said in a dangerous voice, "the only thing I'd regret is not doing it."

Xander was undeterred. "It's a bad idea, then."

"You know what's a bad idea?" Henri dug his knee into the small of Jude's back. "All of you refusing to leave me the hell alone. I could do it, you know. I know how to break a man's arm in six different places. It would be too easy."

Lucas was deathly pale. "That...that has to be a joke."

"I'm entirely serious."

"Don't do this to yourself," Soren said, in French. That was enough to get Henri's attention. "You break his arm, fine. The team leave you alone because they're scared of you. And the Master? When he learns you destroyed the playing ability of one of his best players? He put you in hospital just for starting a fight. You will be arranging your own funeral if you go this far."

Henri knew he was right, but the rational part of his brain was out of commission. "Let him kill me, then," Henri said through gritted teeth. He stuck to French because he didn't want the other Ravens clueing in. "I'll end up dead by the end of year at this rate anyway."

Soren stared at him. "What?"

"Let him kill me," Henri repeated, hoping he'd forget that brief slip-up. "It'll be worth it for this."

"Will it?"

"Why do you care?" Henri glared at him. "You don't care about anything, remember? Not me, not Jude. He can't play and I'm dead. Sounds like all your problems gone in one clean sweep. Maybe you should be thanking me."

"This is my team. I won't let your suicidal nature turn the rest of us to collateral damage."

"Good thing I don't care about your team," Henri said.

Soren clenched his jaw, meeting Henri's glare with a dark look of his own, and Aria seemed to sense the conversation wasn't going the right way. "Soren," she said, a little desperately.

Soren ignored her. "What will it take to make you stop this?"

"From you? Nothing," Henri said coldly. He remembered the unforgiving words Soren had said to him last night and how it had hurt more than he wanted it to. "I want nothing from you."

"Me and him." He looked as if the words were physically paining him and Henri didn't think he would have said it, if not for the fact they were masked in French. The only one who could understand him was Henri. "Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you. The truth."

Curiosity took the edge off his mindless rage and he considered the offer, trying to think clearly around his alcohol addled confusion. It was too much for him to turn down. He hated Soren, or he would make himself hate him eventually, but that didn't mean he couldn't know what happened between them. Right?

"Fine," Henri said finally, in English. "You win."

He released one of Jude's arm and before he could react to that, Henri placed a finger to the base of his neck and pressed down hard enough to temporarily cut off the blood flow. He slumped to the floor in unconsciousness and Aria gasped, dropping to her knees next to him.

"Did you kill him?" she shrieked.

"No. Not yet," he muttered, rolling off his inert figure. "I just knocked him out so I don't have to deal with him trying to murder me once I let him go. Not in the mood."

Matthias blew out a long breath. "Jesus Christ, Henri. I really though you were going to break his arm."

"I would have," Henri said. "Both of them."

"Who thought it was a good idea to let you get drunk?" Matthias said, chuckling nervously. "I think I'm a little scared of you now. Where did you learn to knock a man down like that?"

Before Henri could reply, Lucas yanked his helmet off and turned his head to the side just in time to throw up. Kit leapt back with a disgusted sound. That was apparently all Alixis needed to call for the end of the trial which Henri was sure hadn't ended in a way any of them had been expecting. He wasn't sure what to think but all he knew was Soren couldn't avoid the truth he wanted any longer now.