Strangers in a Heroes' Land

Of Trials and Mr. Piddles

Logan

A few days had passed since the events in Mr. Taylor's classroom and no further problems had popped up.

Mr. Taylor and Mr. Thomas had been taken to some sort of 'hospital ward' within the school and were more or less healed, both had minor abrasions (and in Mr. Taylor's case, a light concussion).

Logan still couldn't quiet believe that people got payed to care for others. It seemed too...unrealistic.

On the Isle it was well known that if you were hurt, it was best to keep it hidden from others who may see it as an opportunity to attack you. Logan still remembered long nights in his laboratory attempting to stitch his skin—and, on many occasions, Virgil's—back together through trial, error, and a large collection of very worn books. Most of their more noticeable scars were remnants of those many failed attempts.

Thomas, after being cleared from the ward, had immediately suspended Mr. Taylor until the school board came up with a suitable punishment.

He and Genie agreed to keep the events about Virgil's powers private from the public as they consulted with the board on the issue of Mr. Taylor, allowing Logan and Virgil to continue with classes normally.

Logan had never been happier, especially now that he was actually being challenged with his education. Not that he would ever show it, of course.

When he had been a child his mother used to use his moments of emotional weakness to cut him down with spiteful comments in a petty attempt to make herself feel better. At the time, because he had been too naive to think otherwise, Logan had believed there had been something defected about him. Something wrong with his brain because it was the only way he could explain why his 'mommy' hated him.

Fortunately Logan had learned very early in life it was far better to suppress emotions then risk ever opening himself up to that kind of pain again. That was also the only lesson he ever gained from the Evil Queen that he actually valued anymore.

But at least it hadn't been as bad as...
(hoarse screams and blood as he frantically tried to hold Virgil down onto the table, the world blurry through his stinging eyes, his hands shaking as he handed Virgil the bottle of alcohol and readied the needle)

Yes, compared to Virgil he had been lucky.

Logan frowned slightly at his distracted thoughts, breathing deeply to shake off the memories as he focused on the teacher again.

The past was best left untouched.

What was he focusing on again? Ah...right. This class. Logan's jaw ticked in thinly concealed irritation.

"If someone hands you a crying baby, do you; A) curse it? B) lock it in a tower? C) give it a bottle? Or D) carve out its heart?" The Fairy Godmother asked cheerfully, pointing a long stick to the chalkboard.

Logan respected the woman, especially since her other class on magical theory was one of his favorites, but Remedial Goodness 101 was slowly ruining his high opinion of her.

Virgil, who was sitting behind him, was very obviously holding in his snickers, head bowed down as his shoulders shook. Logan sighed in exasperation. At least one of them was enjoying this.

"Logan? Why don't you take a guess?" She prodded, nodding at him encouragingly.

He narrowed his eyes. Well, if she insisted...

"If someone were to 'randomly' hand me a crying baby I would 'A' check to see the motives of the caretaker in why they were handing off their infant to a stranger and then 'B'—depending on what I find out about said caretaker—either hand it back or deliver it to the authorities. From what I've read, abandoned children do fall under their jurisdiction correct?" Logan replied sarcastically, equal parts bored and equal parts intrigued on knowing more of these 'authorities'.