Mitch Conner
The Strongest Creature
Alaric could talk all he wanted, but Paria had already stopped listening. Spotting a pair of thuggish goons smoking next to the portajohns, she had skipped over to interrogate them and was currently sizing them up. They were strapping young lads, each easily seven feet tall, freakishly muscular, and sporting identical leather vests, spiked pauldrons, and mohawks. One of the students(?) seemed to take notice, nudging his buddy and nodding towards the girl, and his buddy halfassedly waved his cigarette in acknowledgement.
"Greetings, fellow malcontents!", Paria chirped while making the live-long-and-prosper sign from star trek, as she did not know any gang signs, "Might I inquire as to the whereabouts of the Head Delinquent?"
"Oh yeah, sure thing little girl.", one of the mohawks sneered as he dropped his cigarette and ground it under the heel of his combat boots, "Like we're just gonna tell you where to find our boss. Sure."
"Tchyeah.", the other mohawk snorted, scratching his exposed belly, "You really think we would, like, just tell you that our boss hangs out in the pool's storage locker 'till five PM every weekday?"
"Ah, apologies.", Paria replied, whipping out a pen and paper from the pocket of her dress, "I wasn't quite ready, could you repeat that last part?"
"The part where I said we would never tell you our boss spends, like, literally eight hours a day dicking around in that big shed right next to the pool?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, sure thing- OUCH!", The bellyshirted mohawk was interrupted by a slap upside the head from his partner in crime, "Like, what the heck was that for, dude?"
"You're not supposed to actually tell her, you frickin' goon!"
The combat-booted mohawk sighed and pointed at Paria as bellyshirt popped his knuckles.
"Alright, little girl, I'm sorry to do this but we're gonna have to kick your ass. Matter of professionalism, yeah?"
"Yeah, dude. We're totally gonna go all, like, XFL on you."
"Quiet, you."