A/N: Finally finished this chapter! I'm really happy with the reception I received from the last chapter. I loved how Kira Yamato was a highlight for you guys. Your reviews made me smile.

The Service Club

two: skeletor loser & the indie kid

Cagalli grasped onto the railing of the third flight of stairs. A faint sheen of perspiration coated her forehead, her chest rose up and down. She gasped for air before moaning out, "Where…the… hell are we…. going… La Flaga?"

Mr. La Flaga was not breathing heavily like his counselee counterpart. Instead, he had taken an appearance of ease. He paused from his laidback stride and smiled at Cagalli. "A place where you could fulfill your community hours. You should know that already." He continued to walk up, without glancing back at her.

She leaned on the railing. Attempting to catch her breath, she gave a frustrated groan. "That doesn't explain jack shit!"

He sighed while opening the wide doors that led to the third floor. "You're going to join the Service Club," he finally announced, like it was a doctor's declaration of a magical cure. La Flaga placed his foot to the door to keep it open for Cagalli. Seeing this, she mustered up her last ounce of strength to run up the stairs.

"Service Club?" She repeated with a huff when they walked pass the doors and onto the third floor.

"Yes."

"…And what exactly do I have to do in that club?"

"You provide services," he stated matter-of-factly.

She growled, imagining herself giving an oil massage to a teenage boy. "Sounds perverted."

"Far from it. The club leader will explain everything to you once we get to the room."

"Right…" she said, scanning the third floor with her eyes.

This floor of her high school was definitely odd looking.

No, there weren't any supernatural or satanic symbols etched on lockers, in fact, the only supernatural part was the cleanliness of its hallways. Barely any litter was on the tiles, and the lockers… they looked as good as new. And to add to that, the third floor hardly had any afterschool lurkers (unlike the first and second floor).

"By the way, Cagalli, I tried calling your dad to inform him of your suspension and I was wondering…"

"Yes…?"

"Your dad doesn't work at Jimmy's Pizza Palace, does he?"

La Flaga's face was overly relaxed. Immediately, she could tell he was forcing it.

"Why do you ask?" Her eyes widened and her lips puckered a bit to imitate the face of an innocent schoolgirl.

"Because the number I kept calling belonged to them…Do you know how frustrated the worker was? I kept calling thinking I was just punching in the number wrong!" Mr. La Flaga's eyes started to bulge out their sockets. His voice sounded pathetically upset. "I felt so bad, I ended up buying three large pizzas. And I had to eat every slice by myself! Do you know how unhealthy that is?"

Cagalli put a hand to her mouth, turning away from him as she laughed to herself. "But you get protein and calcium," she said in between her chortles.

"Anyways! I managed to get a hold of Mr. Athha – through email."

A grin was plastered on his mouth.

Her laughter drowned out.

The expression on Cagalli's face soon became stony. She was silent for a moment until she said, "…Fantastic. Now tell me about something I actually care about."

Mr. La Flaga had absolutely no idea how to respond to her remark.

People usually ignored him, or at least tried to.

There weren't a lot of things that were too distinguishable about him. He had wiry black hair and his bangs were so long they covered up his dark eyes. His body was scrawny too and the slouchy posture made him seem even smaller. These physical traits that were bestowed upon him certainly made him forgettable.

Forgettable was one of his goals in high school.

Only fifteen years old, he had already known that the rest of his teenage days would be filled with shittiness and boredom.

That is why he had wanted to become unnoticeable by everyone in his grade and everyone else in this damn school. Although, he had hoped to fade away quietly in the background, he, to his dismay, carried one distinguishable trait that everybody seemed to notice.

Chronic bitch face.

His face possessed a permanent scowl. Thin naturally crooked lips, combined with a brow bone that protruded a little bit further than normal was the immediate cause of his prominent asshole face.

Because of this, people of his grade thought he was someone to watch out for. You never know, he might end up creating a bomb (with the help of google) and end up blowing up the entire school into smithereens. If he didn't succeed in that, for sure, his maniacal impulses would be saved for the future.

Daunting as it sounded, he did not mind that people thought of him that way. It was better than having his childhood nickname 'ugly skeletor loser' be revived. So, if his classmates were scared of him, it meant that he didn't have to deal with them.

People in his grade were stupid, so many of them grinded his bones the wrong way. They'd make remarks about him that would piss him off, but being the secretive asshole he was, he kept all his shitty feelings inside. Never having lashed out before, he would retreat to a single notebook and write down all his frustrations in there. Not a diary…but a –

"You think this is appropriate, Shinn Asuka?!" Mr. Waltfeld was yelling in his face, holding Shinn's worn out, wired notebook between his index and thumb. He held it as though it were a used tampon.

"No," he answered back, glaring at his dirty sneakers. His jaw was clenched hard. God, how could you be so stupid? How could you leave your notebook in that fucking desk?

Mr. Waltfeld scowled at the notebook then at Shinn. "Open your locker," he demanded, "I'm going to do a search for any weapons. Then I'm going to do a bag search. Everything you wrote in this notebook is down right psychotic. You're lucky I'm not reporting you to the cops."

Was Asuka's reputation of becoming a bat shit insane serial killer getting worse?

Hell yeah it was.

If Waltfeld didn't know any better, he could have had Shinn Asuka in the criminal system already.

Mr. La Flaga stopped in his tracks.

"Well, what do we have here?" he said.

The pair had reached a nearly empty hallway. Keyword: Nearly. Nearly empty, except for the objects flying across the air.

"I told you already, there's nothing in there," said the kid with the baggy black clothes on, his clothes were practically swallowing him.

"Oh yeah? I bet you have something in your backpack." The teacher barbarically threw a rotten apple out the locker.

"I only have textbooks in here and binders…"

"You mean explosives?"

An open pudding cup sailed into the air and landed with a loud splatter on the ground.

"How about daggers? Pistols?"

Then an unopened Oreo box smacked against another locker and landed on the floor, which had junk food scattered all over it.

"Those cookies definitely crumbled," Mr. La Flaga commented, in a futile effort to lighten the up the strange situation they just happened to stumble upon.

"Lame," Cagalli flatly replied, clutching her chest. "You're so lame, it physically hurts."

"Hey, stop throwing my stuff out my locker!"

"Not until it's empty!"

The young kid's entire face was enveloped in a nasty shade of red and his tongue kept furiously licking his lips. He looked like a coke bottle that was fizzing up and ready to explode.

La Flaga turned to Cagalli, frowning slightly. "Stay back, okay? I'm going to ask Mr. Waltfeld what the situation is. I don't want you getting hurt."

She rolled her eyes at his concern. "I'm sure a life time supply of junk food wouldn't hurt me. By the way, I'm following you. I want to know exactly what's happening. Maybe that kid is a secret terrorist, you never know. Gotta get up close and see who else I need to avoid."

He sighed, wondering when he was going to run out of sighs with this one. "Fine then."

As they approached the other pair, a coke can was diving straight into La Flaga's forehead. With reflexes like a god, he caught it then placed it on the floor.

Mr. Waltfeld and the kid slowly turned their heads to Mr. La Flaga and Cagalli.

The kid's half hidden eyes widened, then he looked down at his shoes. He seemed to slouch more. His hands even pulled at the hems of his sleeves.

Jeez, what a poor loser, she thought.

Mr. Waltfeld appeared to be somewhat relieved at the sight of the other adult. "You need to read this." His tone was urgent. He pointed to the notebook on the floor.

"What is this?" La Flaga asked as he picked it up. Cagalli went on her tippy toes, trying to see over his shoulders.

"Cagalli, step away," he said, moving away from her.

"What? Why?" she purposely whined. "Maybe there are some pretty pictures in it!"

His wide back obstructed her view, but she heard the notebook flap open.

A couple of minutes passed.

Waltfeld was staring at Mr. La Flaga waiting for a reaction.

Cagalli had given up trying to see the contents of that notebook after La Flaga constantly brushed her off.

The skinny kid bit his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets.

All the while, Mr. La Flaga's eyes were still scanning the notebook, slowly but surely, his face drained of all colour. The Adam's apple in his throat rolled as he took a hard gulp. One of his shoulders twitched. "Holy…fu-…I mean frickle-frackle!"

"You could have said 'fuck'," Cagalli commented nonchalantly.

Her words were obviously unheard by anyone.

He slapped his forehead and ran it down his shocked face, stretching out his skin, making himself look like an old man. He shook his head, then fearfully glanced at the kid.

Mr. La Flaga switched his gaze to Mr. Waltfeld, snapping the notebook closed. "Did you check his bag?"

"I was just about to do that."

The kid seemed to be jerked out of his effort to become invisible because he had barked out, "Wait! You can't do that, sir!"

"Then you clearly have something to hide, Shinn." Mr. Waltfeld grabbed the back of his backpack and proceeded to yank it off his shoulders.

"No! Stop! This isn't fair!"

"Whatever disgusting things you wrote in here isn't fair to your peers either," he sternly replied. He yanked harder this time. The backpack roughly slipped from Shinn's arms, making him bang against the locker behind him.

"What's your last name, Shinn?" asked Mr. La Flaga as he was watching Mr. Waltfeld swiftly unzip the countless of pockets in his backpack.

Cagalli's brows rose in confusion.

"Asuka," Shinn reluctantly replied.

Mr. La Flaga made a weird sound in his throat. "I guess I'm your guidance counselor, Shinn. I'll be escorting you to my office right after this."

Shinn's expression was unseen beneath his bangs.

Mr. Waltfeld suddenly announced, "I'm going to dump this bag upside down, if you have any weapons, I will call the cops." While he was shaking the backpack, a crunching sound was heard. It sounded as though there were infinite mechanical items inside.

"Wait! Don't do it in front of her." Shinn sharply tilted his chin to Cagalli, boring his eyes into her skull.

She definitely noticed the way he spat out 'her' so grossly. His ugly look was about to pierce open her sense of superiority over him.

Cagalli took a step back, hands rising in fake surrender. "Chill dude. If you have porn mags, I couldn't care less. We live in a digital age where you can fap to your phone so I don't get why you would bring that crap to school. Let alone purchase it."

Shinn paused. He sucked in his breath through his teeth. "God! You're really pissing me off!" His fists clenched. "You don't need to be seeing me get suspended. You're probably going go tell everyone in the school because that's what girls like you do."

Girls like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!

Her mouth formed a perfect 'o'.

"Sorry? You don't even know me," she snarled. "Why would I want to spread rumours about a guy who's named after a body part? I don't talk to anyone at this school, so before you make any assumptions you need to shove your notebook up your ass, you dumb fuck!"

That shut Shinn the hell up. But the angry fumes were still radiating from him.

Mr. Waltfeld was now glaring at both Athha and Asuka.

Mr. La Flaga looked rather defeated. It seemed that he always got stuck with having students like these. It had to be a curse. With an exhausted voice he said, "This has got to be the worst timing. Cagalli, please… just head out to the room. I'll be there in thirty minutes or less. It's room 304. It should be in a corner further down the hall when you turn right."

She was about to argue but for once she decided to give La Flaga a break, plus she didn't even want to see Shinn's asshole face or else her eyes might burn from the atrocity of it.

"Fine," she spun her heel and started stomping away. Ugh, I hope I never bump into that kid ever again. But if I do, I am for sure finding out what was in his bag… and that notebook of his.

Walking by her lonesome, Cagalli kept glancing at each number plate on every single door she passed.

312, 311, 310, 309

In less than five minutes she would actually be attending a club meeting in high school. She attended quite a few club meetings before when she was in ninth grade (she was dragged along by her former best friend – who was irrelevant to her life now). The classrooms for where the meetings were held would be full of people and there would always be that awkward self-introduction along with their reason for joining the club.

She cringed hard at the thought of herself standing up and stating these things.

"Hey guys, the name's Cagalli. I'm in grade 12 and I am here because I basically need community hours. Don't interact with me please. Thanks."

She could atleast try to sound convincing.

"Hello everyone! My name is Cagalli, I'm a twelfth grader. I'm here to join because I want to make a difference in the community and I love helping others!"

Total bullshit.

Another thought came into her mind. It was currently October… first club meetings are held in September, therefore, right now, she would be walking in on a meeting with members who have already established themselves and then she'd have to be the only one making a self-introduction.

How embarrassing!

Stop thinking. Focus on finding that classroom.

Under her breath, she said aloud the numbers of the classrooms she passed. "308, 307, 306…305."

"And 304…" Her steps took a halt in front of the clubroom door.

She frowned in confusion when she saw that the rectangle window of the door was covered with black construction paper. Odd, she thought, but she soon dismissed it.

Wait…I've never even heard of this club before.

There were no posters on the bulletin boards or on any of the walls in the hallways, often, club meeting posters stayed on the walls for a considerable amount of time before a random person ripped them down just for the hell of it. Cagalli hadn't even heard any announcements advertising this club either.

What kind of club was this? A secret, exclusive club? No way! Maybe they sucked at advertising themselves, which meant that their member count was most likely to be low, which also meant that Cagalli didn't need to interact with too many people. This sounded like a win-win situation in her mind.

Smiling confidently, she rose her fist and knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, a bit harder this time.

Still no answer.

"Umm…okay." Cagalli waited for a minute, before she decided to turn the doorknob all the way.

It was unlocked, without a second thought, she instinctively pushed open the door.

As her foot met the inside of the room, her eyes were startled by the appearance of it.

Desks were messily pushed all the way to the back of the classroom, resembling a traffic jam with too many colliding cars. Beside the desks were chairs that were stacked to the ceiling. Some stacks were wobbling to one side precariously, ready to fall. Whether it was a trick of her vision or what not, she could have sworn the desks and chairs were coated in a layer of dust.

Cheap blinds covered all the windows. Except for the one that exposed some light to that darkened space. Like a broken and aged spotlight, the sun beamed half-heartedly onto that one particular person in the room.

That person sat in a chair, away from the mess behind him. He was in the center of it all, his body towards the blackboard. His head hung low, facing the open hardcover book that rested in his hands. Black ear buds were in his ears, so Cagalli could not even comprehend why she even bothered to utter out an "Excuse me."

Unresponsive, and so preoccupied by his book, he did not notice that another person was standing right at the doorway.

Cagalli bit her bottom lip. She closed the door behind her with her heart thumping. Why the hell was there only one person in here? Did she go to the wrong classroom?

She felt anxious. You have two options: You can stay in this room until this guy notices you or you can leave as fast as you can– but then maybe he'll notice that you were in here once you leave… But – remember! You came here for one reason. Community hours!

Her legs started moving on their own accord, approaching the male at a gradual pace. As she reached him, her silhouette layered over his sitting form.

She stood there, overlooking him, looking like a reluctant assassin that was about to snap his neck.

As she was about to cough for his attention, the male abruptly glanced straight up at her, locking her in his apathetic gaze.

Those muddy green eyes of his seemed to be looking right through her entire body in complete disinterest, as if he had completely analyzed her soul in less than a second and decided that she was not worthy of interaction.

He took off his thick black frames then lightly tugged his ear buds out, as he did so, the low blare of music was heard.

"Do you have a request?" he asked, his tone of voice somewhat bleak.

"I – I, what…no! Why?"

An awkward, incredible silence followed. The male stared hard at her, his deep-set eyes were unimpressed but at the same time they held a similar bewilderment that Cagalli's eyes had.

The music streaming from the guys ear buds acted as the substitute for their voices. Its sound, despite being so low, had a rhythm to it that she was sure that she had heard somewhere else before.

"So…if you don't have a request, why are you here?" As he said this, the music became louder, the attitude of the bass line evolved into a demanding one. Cagalli was sure she knew this song.

"What band are you listening to?" she sputtered out on such impulse. At that instant, she felt her blood rush all the way to her brain as she mentally chastised herself.

The male took another long stare at her.

…And then he said the most annoying words anyone can ever say when answering a question like this:

"You've probably never heard of them."

Black turtleneck sweater, dark hair in a low ponytail, a long chain necklace with a stone in it, gauges in his earlobes, fitted denim jeans and thick black-rimmed glasses…

She should have known.

This guy was just another pretentious –

"Hipster."

It was unmistakable, like the scowl that currently tainted her lips.

Slowly, his mouth opened, speechless for a second until his unfriendly voice, challengingly asked her, "…Did you just call me a hipster?"

Smugness was one expression she liked to put on her face, but somehow that expression was vandalized by fear. She straightened her posture, puffing out her small chest by a tad. "Why, yes. I did, in fact, call you a hipster."

"…And what makes you think I'm a hipster?"

"The way you're dressed and your answer to my question." Her cheeks were starting to burn again.

"You're quite judgmental, aren't you? You quickly judged me and decided that I was a hipster. With hipsters' reputations, they are usually disliked, so you probably already made the decision to dislike me as well…a good thing to do is limit yourself from judging others."

Cagalli furrowed her brows. She did not like the sound of his voice at all, his tone was way too cool and unfazed, which was much more intimidating than how she ever sounded.

"Well," she replied, attempting to mirror his execution. "It's actually a defense mechanism to analyze a person and make a judgment, to see if they are a threat or not. Our great ancestors have either been killed or been able to survive, depending on their own judgments." She smirked at herself for being able to pull something like that out of her ass.

"But you live in the modern era, and last time I checked – " He glanced around the classroom. "We are not fighting for survival. Therefore your judgments should be rational." He abruptly stood up from his chair, holding onto his belongings. "Also…"

His eyes gazed down at her face. "…Do I look like a threat to you?" he added, his features softening slightly.

Cagalli's eyes darted away quickly as her cheeks began to bruise pink. She dug her nails in her fists. "Umm…uhh…I-I don't know!"

He tilted his head. "It's a simple question. Yes or no?"

"Ugh… jeez. No. No, you are not a threat to me. Happy?"

Shrugging, he sat back down. "At least that settles things." He shut off his music. "But, you never answered my question. If you have no requests, then why exactly are you here?"

She folded her arms, and shifted her weight to one side. Her foot was tapping against the floor, as she tried to mentally get rid of the heat from her face. If she could open a window or something she would be satisfied. "Community hours," she bluntly stated, fixating her glare at a random tile.

"Oh, did Mwu send you here?"

"Who the hell is that?"

"Sorry, I meant Mr. La Flaga."

Wow, someone's on a first name basis.

"Yeah, he sent me here. He wants me to join some Service Club or something, but I think La Flaga gave me the wrong room number." Cagalli blew her bangs away from her eyes, more so in irritation than anything else.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm."

The guy reached down to the leather satchel beside his chair. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from one of its pockets. "By the way, my name is Athrun. What's yours?"

"Cagalli."

Athrun raised his arm towards her. The folded paper was within that hand. He gave her a small, dull smile. "…Welcome to the Service Club."

Cagalli wanted to jump out of the window behind him.

How could there be only one other member? And out of everyone in this rotten school, how come it had to be him?

That folded sheet of paper was now placed in her hands.

Cagalli didn't even want to open it.

The Service Club

Contract

The purpose of the Service Club is to fulfill the community hours of students who have had their hours increased due to delinquent actions.

The responsibilities of a Service Club member include reviewing requested tasks and completing the approved tasks given by fellow classmates and teachers.

Service Club members have the right to decline or approve of requests.

Service Club members are not allowed to negotiate the hours given by task givers.

Service Club members cannot negotiate or alter tasks. They must fulfill them to the best of their ability.

The Service Club meets regularly once a week. Failure to attend meetings will result in an increase of hours for that club member.

Failure to comply with the rules outlined in this contract will result in immediate termination of membership and the hours completed in their duration of the club.

I (your name) agree with the above statements and understand the importance of service to the community.

Full Name:

Grade:

Hours left to complete:

Date:

Contact Information (Address and phone number):

A/N: Now you guys got introduced to rest of the main cast and even the contract ;) tell me what you think of them, haha.

(If anyone could guess what was in Shinn's notebook and bag, I will give you virtual Oreo cookies)

Hope you enjoyed!