Joe watched as Frank turned into the campus, wondering what to tell Frank. He knew who the guys were- they were jocks. But he did not know their names, did not know the halls they stayed in and did not know where to find them, period. Actually, he could not even be sure he would recognize them if he saw them. There were too many things to think about lately and remembering the faces of the idiots who called him by the name that he detested the most and, yet, strangely felt so deservingly of, was not exactly that important enough for him to waste more brain cells on.

But stealing a glance at Frank’s purposeful mien, Joe knew he had better think of something fast before Frank decided to change his mind and drag him down to the Police Station. The last time he was there in hope of obtaining a duplicated copy of the case file on Vanessa had been nerve-wrecking enough for him to still feel the moths flitting about in his stomach.

Suddenly, Frank jammed the brakes when a cat sprung out from nowhere right in front of the Mustang and the car jerked to an abrupt, rocking stop. Joe, shaken violently both physically and mentally in accordance with Newton’s laws of motion, wanted to throw up then.

"Stupid cat." Frank swore and cranked up the car engine again. If there was one animal Frank hated, it was cats. Feline creatures were what Frank, in his juvenile youth, termed handmaidens of the devil after watching a certain episode of Blossom. His abhorrence for the slant-eyed, cunning hunters actually stemmed from a more traumatic history. A cat had literally tried to claw his eyes out when he was about five-years old. Joe was too young to remember what Frank could have done to agitate the animal so but it must have been terribly antagonizing for the cat.

Maybe he asked the cat too many questions and it just could not take it anymore. That must be it. Too many questions that the poor, stupid kitty could not answer.

If anyone cared, Joe would happily point out the thin, faded whitish line just below Frank’s left eye. It was hardly noticeable, now that many years had passed and sometimes, Joe wondered if he had imagined seeing it there.

"Where do we turn? Do they stay in a frat house or a normal hall?"

"Ah… hmm… that’s…" Joe laughed nervously, eyeing the campus field with wild hope. Once, when he was a jock himself, he spent a good measure of his free time down by Bayport High football field either training or just lazing about, discussing game plans with his fellow team mates. Now, if he ever entered a football field, there was a higher chance he was there to mow the grass for that extra few dollars instead of playing touch football with other people.

If only mom and dad knew how poor I am. Shouldn’t have refused to take the allowance…

Nope. I must be my own man. Dad lost quite a lot of money, bailing me out. Well, he got it back in the end but I know how much they had to scrimp and save before it could be returned to him.

"Hmm?" Frank wordlessly repeated his question and Joe brushed a lock of his fringe aside.

"Do you think I should get a haircut?"

"Joe… you don’t want to exasperate me again." Frank warned, good-naturedly though. The harrowing experience with the jaywalking cat was forgotten and the old warmness of brotherhood returned. Joe breathed in deeply and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

No time like the present. He’s not angry… he’s a very calm and patient man.

"I’m going to tell you something and you must promise not to flare up at me…" Joe cracked one eye opened to observe Frank for a brief second before he decided that Frank seemed placid enough. Thus, he revealed both his eyes and gave his brother a pleading look- his lips curling up before it disappeared into a thin black line.

"Promise?" Joe implored again.

They were near the block which housed the departments of History and Philosophy when Frank responded to Joe’s begging by pulling the car to a smooth stop by the curb. Leaning back against his seat, he glanced at Joe with a curious arched brow. Joe prayed one last time for a miracle, surprised he even remembered how to pray.

Wait… oh my… Thank You, Almighty!

Hmm… but somehow, I don’t think those guys will thank You… so sorry…

Joe was looking out of the car window when he saw the main man walking out of a room on the ground floor of the small but respectable building which housed the two most popular and sought after majors in the whole of Arts and Social Science Faculty. The jock was looking all studious and strong. Joe pointed at him, feeling immensely relieved at having found his aggressor so Frank would not tear his hair out again and resort to extreme measures to protect his kid brother.

"That’s the leader of the pack."

"That’s him?" Frank asked a little amusedly. "I know it’s bad of me to judge but somehow, the black-rimmed glasses don’t go well with the sneer at the side of his lips."

Joe felt a mocking smile creeping up his lips as well. Frank was right to want to follow him to see how he could handle the situation and he was glad he allowed Frank to. If the 6 ft 1 jock wanted to beat him up again, at least Frank was there with some karate chops to change his mind.

"Yah... even if you’re not smart, you can always fake the look. Well, for the sake of humankind, let’s hope the professors aren’t stupid enough to fall for that. If they are, I’ll borrow Shane’s glasses and see if I can score an A." Joe drawled cynically before he slowly pushed the car door open, feeling each and every bruise on his body clamoring for his attention. The moment one purplish contusion screamed, another would strive to beat that and the fatal chain reaction never seemed to want to cease.

"I’ll be right behind you." Frank assured him as he stepped out of the Mustang and shut the car door. Joe gritted his teeth against the aches and throbs and willed himself to walk just a little more normally and faster towards the guy who had taken a seat on a bench next to a water cooler along the corridor of the first story. Flipping through a thick book with too much pomp and ceremony, the jock occasionally glanced around to see if anyone was looking at him with awe.

C’mon legs… just a few steps more.

Frank’s right behind me… he’s right behind me…

"Hey." Joe greeted the guy who raised his nose up from the textbook. His sandy blond hair was gelled into spikes that poked at Joe’s ire. Somehow, Joe could find nothing nice to think about his attacker, even after he discounted the fact that he was assaulted by him. However, it was impossible to forget the beating he had endured and thus, everything he thought about the guy was biased.

"Oh, you." The sandy-blond guy was about to read his book when Joe simply took a seat opposite him across the bench’s table with calm. His rude dismissal slighted Joe who could feel an old anger boiling in his stomach, feeding some untamable dragon.

"You know, sneaking an attack on someone is not a very nice thing to do. I mean, what if that someone recognizes your voice and actually reports you to the police? I can assure you that doing time for something as silly as avenging your macho pride on a helpless stranger which you maligned is not a clever thing to do. In fact, it’s the silliest thing you can do."

"What are you talking about?" The guy slammed his book down and glowered at Joe who grinned without mirth in response- a grin nothing more than the baring of white teeth.

"Oh… nothing. Hey, it doesn’t matter what you think. You know Con Riley? And Ezra Collig? Yup, you see, they believe in my innocence. And if I should bring this matter up, who do you think they’ll believe, being my good friends and all? And of course you may have left your hair at the crime scene or something and a DNA test could prove it easily…" Joe rattled on, knowing he was half-bullshitting. "Plenty of evidence if we want to look for it. You want to join me while I comb the place?"

"You’re not badly hurt… we just wanted to teach you a lesson. You did humiliate me in the cafeteria." The guy hissed while he threw furtive glances all around. A moment later, he cleared his throat and straightened himself. Narrowing his eyes, he looked into Joe’s blue orbs, perhaps with the aim of achieving a piercing stare.

"I don’t like to be threatened." He growled, trying to instill fear into Joe who just laughed the pathetic attempt back into the jock’s square face.

"Threaten? No… I’m not threatening you. If I’m threatening you, I’ll say something like, hmm… ‘Do it to me or someone else again and I’ll rip your head apart.’ But I’m a civil man. I don’t threaten people so I won’t ever say that to you." Joe felt slightly guilty at the path he steered the dialogue to but still, he clenched his scarred hands into fists while smiling sweetly into the guy’s face for emphasis. His frightening reputation as a girlfriend-killer aided the menacing pose and the guy’s face paled. Nevertheless, Joe wished he had handled it another way instead of resorting to implied violence. Violence begets violence, yet, sometimes, a bully would only cower when faced with another bully.

And so on and so forth. A vicious cycle. Never ends unless we learn peace and love or finish off one another.

"Ok… can we just drop it? I’m sorry. I really am… I’m on the brink to Honors here… and it was stupid of me, all right? I’m sorry about your locker too. Can we… call it quits? Believe me, we just wanted…"

"To teach me a lesson. Gosh, you are pathetic…" Joe shut the guy up with dripping acid, watching the guy shrinking before him. "A little bullying and you fall flat on your face. Next time, think twice before you cross me, Joe Hardy, or anyone else. And I’m not only looking for an apology, which I accept of course. You ruined my dorm’s door and so, it’s only right for you to pay for the damages."

"What?!" The guy jumped in his seat, livid. He then shook his head. "I never ruined your damn dorm door. I don’t even know which hall or frat house you stay in!"

"Look, don’t play games with me. Because you decided to so nicely torment me with your graffiti, my roommate is on the verge of being kicked out along with me and he’s got no other place to stay. So, can you at least be accountable and face up to the consequences?" Joe was tired of the conversation suddenly because it had revealed how much he had changed; how brutal he could be verbally and he was not exactly happy with himself. He just wanted the compensation and to get out of there.

Where’s Frank with his legal mumbo jumbo?

The guy glanced fearfully at Joe’s scarred hands, making Joe feel extremely self-conscious. The jock’s mind was transparent to Joe’s eyes. He must be thinking it was some trophy Joe was proud of, having obtained it in some gang fight after he burnt three rival gang members to death. Yes, Joe heard some of the more imaginative gossip flying around about him and his hands and they were as cruel as they were ridiculous.

I’ll never do that.

"Look, I really ain’t the one who did it… I seriously don’t know anything about it. All we did was throw bleach and rotten eggs into your locker and rough you up a little to wipe that smug, "I’m tougher than you" James Dean’s look off your face. My girlfriend broke up with me after seeing me being humiliated by you in the cafeteria and… and that just snapped something in me. I’m not normally like that… I’m sorry…"

"Right. All you did." Joe spat but he believed the guy. He threw one more condescending glare at the jock before he started climbing out of his seat. Before he turned around to leave, he hunched over the table and placed his hands very quietly onto the guy’s thick book.

"See these? These aren’t trophies or war scars. Be thankful they’re not your hands. So, my advice is be nice to everyone and be good. Don’t end up in there." He warned softy. Walking backwards for a few steps slowly while deliberately boring his penetrating gaze deep into the jock’s frightened brown eyes, Joe registered the lip biting, forehead sweating look in his mind.

Be very thankful.

He turned around and walked away, willing his almost faltering steps to steady as he endured the pain from the bruises.

Frank was behind all right, but more like behind a nearby pillar. Joe was sure Frank heard the exchange for his brother half-smiled at him.

"Ok. Can’t say you handled it perfectly but… you handled it. Reminded me of what I did to Randall but... on a more vicious level."

Joe nodded, comprehending what Frank was trying to do. "Thanks, bro. I’ve learned from the best but I thought you did break Randall’s nose. You heard him, right?"

"Yes. I did."

Joe stuck a tongue into his right cheek as his eyes narrowed in deep thought. "There’s someone else out there but I don’t know who it is this time."