Emmett shivered as he pulled his long sleeved, light blue sweater over his hands, and slowly went through the school courtyard, looking down at  the cement as he went about. David Fentere shoved Emmett into a fence nearby. "Walk faster, you little pussy ass bitch!" 

"S-sorry, I-I didn't m-mean to, I-I" Emmett stammered, trailing off, brushing his chocolate hair out of his face, tears welling in his hazel eyes.

"Oh, you didn't mean to?" David sneered, mocking Emmett's mewling tone towering over little Emmet like a looming storm, his carmel quiff bristling slightly in the wind. His teal eyes dark with something Emmet couldn't place. He pinned Emmett to the track fence, cutting the back of Emmett's head.

"You didn't mean to?" He repeated, with more fury, slamming him against the fence again. He pushed against him hard, forcing his tongue down Emmett's throat. Emmett gasped for air, crying hard as David sucked bruises on his neck, shoving his hand in Emmett's pants. Emmett cried out in panic, rasping, "No... NO! Please, n-no!" David slapped him hard across the face, his sorority ring marking a red, bruising, bleeding indent in Emmett's cheek. Emmett sobbed harder, giving in, and then...

"What the fuck?!" David swore, as a pale, dark-haired stranger punched him across the jaw. The stranger looked as white as a sheet, with dark black, almost blue hair. His cheekbones were very prominent, yet soft. He was tall, lanky even, about five foot eight. He was wearing a black hoodie and light-washed jeans. His curly hair was in his face, but that didn't distract from the striking blue eyes and multiple piercings that he had. God must've been drunk when creating the pigment of his eyes. He looked Emmett's age, though. About fifteen, yet he fought off this giant, even though he was shorter than him. David was six-foot-two.

"Stay the hell away from him!" He reeled, his voice seething with hate.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, shithead?" David blundered.

"A better lookin' shithead than you! That shiner goes real well with the rapey   side of ya. Now, like I said, stay away from him." He retorted, his smirk seething with sarcasm.

"What'cha gonna do about it, you gonna tell your momma?" David taunted, cruel mouth twisted into a disturbing smile.

Emmett's savior turned around, teeth bared. Or were those... fangs? He spoke anyway, without any signs of an altercation in his speech pattern. Wait, Lucian? The guy he'd had a crush on was defending him? Moreover, he had fangs?

"What?" He asked, his voice significantly more calm. The tone of his voice was opposing his stature, his lithe shoulders tensed, the way cats seem to have them when vexed. His head cocked slightly, as if he was asking a much more detailed question, like the wrong answer would give David an even worse limp than he already had.

"I said," David repeated his statement stupidly, "What'cha gonna do about it, you gonna tell your momma?"

Lucian turned, smiling all cocky-like. Yep, those were definitely fangs. What the hell happened to his eyes? That's it. Emmett would run away. The two fought for a good twelve minutes. Emmett wanted to do what he thought of earlier, which was to run away, but he found he couldn't. It was as if he was a china figurine, one push and he might've broken right there.

"Naw," He replied, an edge to his voice, "I can take care of you myself, then you're gonna tell your momma." He raised his hand, squeezing it into a fist, tensing so hard his knuckles turned white. He was about to throw another fist, yet another man stopped it. He was the opposite of Lucian, his skin was tanned, not pale as a sheet of paper. Instead of lanky, he was strongly built. He was about six-foot-two, and had icy , light blue eyes, like a pool of crystals. His hair was short, but curly, a dark chocolate brown, and freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose and his very prominent cheekbones. His jawline was as sharp as a knife. And when he did speak, his voice was deep, commanding, and laced with a thick, unidentifiable accent. Maybe it was Russian, or was it something else? He must've been at the most twenty-one. A really big senior? All Emmett knew was that no teacher was in that good of shape, not even the physical education teachers. Not in this town. He was dressed like a person of profession, though, down to the black dress pants, dress shoes, and a white button-up shirt with a deep red tie.

"What on earth are you two doing? Stop! Now!" He commanded, stepping in between them, before noticing a crying, whimpering Emmett. He turned to him, still holding the two other teenagers at the collars of their shirts. He spoke much more quietly to Emmet.
"Are you okay?" The man asked softly, almost professionally. He had probably seen this before. "I'm Doctor Phobeus Andouex, and I was to be guest teaching a doctoral class, but now I see I have to teach teenagers how to respect one another." He looked at the gash in Emmett's cheek, but not noticing how the other stranger's eyes widened, almost in recognition. "I also see that I need to take a victim to the infirmary." He smiled warmly, the golden eyes melting from the cold look he had given Emmett's perpetrator.

"Uhh, sir?" Emmett squeaked, intimidated by the three big men standing in front of him. He felt like he was about to have a panic attack. Still, he continued. "The pale guy was protecting me. Without him, David would've, uh.... would've..." Emmett's eye squeezed shut, shuddering to think about what happened, and if it were to be continued. Dr. Andouex looked at Emmett, to the stranger, and to David. He seemed to process this.

"What's your name? Your names, all of you." He questioned. Lucian went first.

"Lucian." He answered, his eyes void of any emotion besides that of his confusion.

"Alright. You?" He directed it towards David, who, begrudgingly gave his full name.
"My name is, uh, is Emmett, sir." Emmett cleared his throat and started again. "Emmett Cook." He shifted his feet in the grass nervously.

"Emmett," He directed this statement to him, " Walk with me while I take these two to the office, and I'll get you to the infirmary, okay?" Lucian slightly protested, but Dr. Andouex stopped him. "I'm taking you both to the office because you fought each other. Defense or not. He'll get a worse punishment for starting the fight. You, Lucian, I also need to talk to you." Lucian looked at him with dread.