The gap between their skills was noticeable in an instant and it was a big one. Arya could barely blink, dodging punches by the skin of her teeth and then Jacob smiled and it was over. She tumbled back, winded and out of breath, silently promising herself she was going to up her training. Against anybody else, she'd be a force to be reckoned with—but it wasn't anyone else. It was him. A man who'd been taught the same techniques as hers... and he was ten times better at using them.

"I... prefer... not to be... called that," she puffed, wincing as she stumbled back yet again from another heavy blow to her stomach.

"You have some serious height issues, eh?" He paused on his attack, looking around the corridor.

Lydia was plastered against the wall, terror written across her face, and the two boys were well and truly unconscious. Arya was standing in front of them all without a single trace of fear written across her face, despite the beating she'd just taken.

She was stubborn.

Annoyingly so.

A fact that seemed to endear her to Flynn, amuse the blonde duo, and annoy the hell out of everyone else. Arya smiled faintly, wiping at her mouth before she charged back into the fray. "Shut up," she growled, leaping towards him yet again.

He ducked out of the way, laughing as she sailed past him. "So..." He spun around to face her. "Who was insane enough to teach a kid the Art of Bone Breaking?"

She winced. "That's none of your business."

"Aww," he moaned, pouting at her as her fist glanced past his cheek. "Don't be a spoilsport..."

"What are you? Five?" she asked.

He caught her wrist. "You're an amusing one..."

"Why thank you," she hissed, her eyes widening as they stayed locked together. His grip tightened on her wrist and she winced yet again.

"Now... who trained you?" he asked. "I'd answer before I break your wrist, if I were you..."

"A wandering monk," she said, hissing in pain as he threw her back with ridiculous ease. "He's dead now, so don't bother searching him out for a pis—"

His hand slammed into her gut with the force of a battering ram, and for once Arya was glad she'd practiced taking so many of the monk's punches.

It made the pain slightly more bearable.

Only slightly, though.

"Ah, ah... You kiss your mother with that mouth," he said.

Her eyes darkened, her legs trembling, her voice barely more than a croak as she spoke. "She's dead."

"Your father?"

"Never met him, otherwise I'd happily do this!" she yelled, punching him in the stomach, twitching slightly when he didn't even flinch.

"Hmm? I thought I felt a kitten paw at me for a second there..."

"You..." Her hands shook—out of fear or sheer annoyance she didn't know. All she knew was that the man in front of her was really getting on her nerves. That and the fact she really wanted to punch him, but apparently she wasn't quite skilled enough to do that just yet.

Jacob grinned. "Back to what you were going to do to your father... what was it exactly?"

"Beat him to a bloody pulp," Arya said, her expression murderous as she continued to stare at him. "Just like I'm going to do to you."

His grin only widened, turning feral as he swung at her faster than she could blink.

Warning bells sounded in the back of her mind and then she was flying back through the corridor like she'd been fired from a cannon. She sailed past where the two blondes lay, becoming one with the wall behind her in what seemed like an instant. A very painful instant. Warm liquid trailed down from her head, her body throbbing, a dull ringing in her ears as she waited there—hung from the wall like some priceless painting.

Jacob was in front of her in seconds, smirking at her as she stared blankly back at him. Her vision was hazy and unfocused, but she had no problems listening to him as he spoke. His hand grabbed her chin, his blurry face taking up most of her sight. "There aren't that many people down here who know the Bonebreaker Art... and not many of them are monks... in fact, I can only think of one, though I might be wrong."

"Go away," Arya slurred, her tongue thick and heavy as she slumped into the nice dent she'd made in the wall. It had been such a nice wall too, before she'd ruined it—straight, thick and sturdy enough to bash people's heads against—something Arya really looked for in a wall.

"You're such a polite little girl..."

Arya twitched.

"So why don't you tell me your teacher's name?"

"I don't know it."

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf or something?"

"Don't insult me!"

"Well, I just told you your answer. Open your ears and get lost," Arya muttered. "I'm too tired to deal with you right now."

He stared at her. "Kid, you do know I'm an enemy who just infiltrated your school, don't you?"

"I think I gathered that."

"I could kill you."

"And here I was thinking you'd brought presents for us all..."

"You—"

Lydia snickered behind them.

Jacob's head snapped around, and the girl went ramrod straight—her legs resuming their shaking. Arya had the distinct feeling if the situation wasn't so serious Lydia would be rolling around on the ground screaming things about how they were two of a kind.

"Now, you say you don't know his name... but you know his appearance, right?"

"It depends..."

"I'm not bribing you, dammit!"

"Hmm... Well, it was a while ago, so I'm not sure how much I remember..."

His eyes narrowed. "Did he have a head full of sandy blonde hair by any chance...?" He tilted his head, a small smirk pulling at his lips when she stiffened. "Maybe a set of green eyes and a brownish-red robe with a gold sash?"

"No. Of course not."

"Liar," he purred.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I just did... though to be honest, I already knew." He laughed, and the sound put her on edge. "That old man is the only one crazy enough to teach some kid the Bonebreaker Art... of course it'd be him!"

Arya gave into her curiosity. "Did you know the monk?"

"Who do you think taught me the Art of Bone Breaking, stupid?" He snickered. "I suppose that makes you his third pupil, then... and by far the worst..."

"Oy!"

Jacob's phone buzzed, the sound wiping the amused grin off his face as he answered the call. "You've found her already?" he asked after a moment or two of tense silence. "Aww... but I was just starting to have fun over here..."

"Fun?" she echoed, seriously wondering about his definition of the word.

His face darkened, the low voice of the other speaker barely audible to Arya as she waited. Her heart worked overtime, her brain mulling over how the hell she was going to get out of the situation this time around. "What do you mean she's here too? I thought our great and terrible leader said they were keeping her in Lonmar..."

"Lonmar?"

Jacob pulled the mobile away from his head. "Shush, child. I'm in the middle of a conversation here, can't you see that?"

"It's a bit hazy, actually."

"You can certainly hear it though!"

"I thought you were talking to yourself... You're certainly crazy enough..."

"You—"

"Go on. Keep talking to your imaginary friends." Arya smiled. "Wait can I join in too? I've even thought up a name for him... How's Bob?"

"No." Jacob ignored her, slamming a hand over her mouth. "All's fine on my end... I just ran into an... interesting child."

Arya bit his hand. "Aww... I'm interesting? You really know how to flatter an—ow!"

"I'll meet up with you at the designated spot. See you."

Arya pouted. "Aww... Is Bob gone?"

"If I was anyone else you'd be dead."

"Shame."

Jacob sighed, shaking his head. "I'll give you some advice."

"Is it good advice?"

"Shut up! It's advice OK?!"

"Sounds cool," she said, nodding.

"Forget everything the old man taught you."

"Old man?" she found herself asking.

"The monk."

"He was young. Late twenties at most," Arya said, unable to stop her lips from moving. She was fairly certain her off switch had malfunctioned at some point during their exchange because she could not stop talking for the life of her. Her body felt weirdly light, like she was floating, and the pain was fading away as she giggled.

"There's a reason I had to get rid of him, you know... and not just on boss man's orders..."

Arya froze, the words clicking in her brain almost instantly. Her expression morphed into one of absolute rage, her hands clenching weakly with the last of the strength she had. "You... You're... You're one of the ones who attacked him..."

"Correct." He grinned.

"You killed him..."

Jacob blinked. "I killed him?"

"I saw you!"

"Oh... You're the little... Wait... No. That's not possible." His stare hardened, his face moving impossibly close. "She took care of that little toddler."

"Toddler..." she muttered. "Oy... Too close! Back off!"

"That can't be right."

"Move, or I will kiss you!"

"Imp—"

Arya carried out her threat, glaring into his fuzzy eyes as she kept her lips pressed against his until he stumbled back.

"What the hell?!"

"Aww... Have you never been kissed before? Did I steal your lips?" Arya sung, feeling oddly giddy once she saw his vaguely disgusted expression. "If you want me to take responsibility though, I'm afraid you'll have to buy me dinner first..."

"Aren't you girls supposed to treasure your first kisses?"

"First kisses are like all other kisses." She nodded her head viciously. "That's right."

Jacob wiped his lips. "Well... I'm going to have to go now..."

"Did I scare you off?"

"You wish," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But before I go, let me give you a piece of information... seeing as he's apparently kept you clueless about the truth of the world we live in." He stepped back towards her, clamping one hand over her mouth as his breath brushed against her ear. "The monk's alive."

Arya blinked and then he was gone, his words ringing in her ears as she stared blankly ahead of her. Vaguely she saw three figures sprint to her side, barely listening as they all shouted things at her—the most memorable one being about how she'd be grounded for a month if she did something like this again—but she couldn't think straight. In fact all she could focus on were Jacob's last words.

"The monk's alive."

"Impossible."