"Draw!" Yells an Academy lecturer in a white and gold robe.

The rupture of a pistol bursts through the training hall before a second echo quickly follows. Two students stand on a simulated strip of a desert at the centre of a large arena- both with their revolvers raised at one another.

A few moments pass of the two students, Kassian and Mich, holding their weapons. But, Mich's legs start to wobble when the shield around his training uniform shifts from turquoise to red. He drops to one knee, clutching at his stomach whilst coughing and struggling for breath.

Kassian lowers his weapon and grins to himself, "Seriously? You were aiming for my head again?"

"Headshots only, bitch," Mich wheezes.

Kassian shakes his head and chuckles to himself. Understandably so considering his aim is way better than Mich's, but Mich is much quicker on the draw. He's lost three rounds now because he's tried shooting Kassian in the head each time.

The bullets from these classic weapons aren't strong enough to penetrate modern energy shields, but the Academy has set this quickdraw simulation to replicate the pain felt from the gun wound. "Otherwise we would be learning without consequences," The lecturers always love to say.

"He's a masochist," Tiffany sighs from the sideline, "He wants to get shot,"

"Or he's an asshole," Kassian shrugs, tilting his head as he watches Mich struggle to his feet. "Who wants me to feel the pain of a headshot,"

"Thanks for the psychoanalysis, dweebs," Mich chuckles, "You're all forgetting when this prick headshot me,"

"That's enough now," The lecturer, Sir Tristan, chuckles to himself as he walks over to Tiffany to give her a weapon, "Since someone's feeling confident,"

Tiffany, a short, redheaded girl with a slender build and bright blue eyes steps onto the strip of desert in the middle of the hall.

"Mich, you're done," Sir Tristan calls out.

"Aw, But I almost had him, sir," Mich jests.

The entire class chuckles, knowing that Mich is full of it but also aware that he did in fact, 'almost have him'. Maybe the fourth time's the charm.

"You're talented, but take nothing seriously in order to be entertaining to your peers," Sir Tristan comments, "The last thing we'd do at the Academy is punish you for your inherent personality. But, Don't turn this behavior into a subconscious habit, or it will get you killed,"

"Yes, Sir," Mich salutes as he takes a seat on the stands with the rest of the class.

"Are the two of you ready?" Sir Tristan asks as he turns to face Kassian and Tiffany.

The both of them nod their heads before taking their stances and holding their hands above their weapons. This draw is a little different- Kassian still has the accuracy advantage, but barely. Additionally, Tiffany has a slightly faster draw but all-in-all, they're practically even.

The lecturer raises his hand to signal the ready, before passing a glance at both of the students and holding his breath… "Draw!"

Both Tiffany and Kassian get a bad start and their guns fire simultaneously. They both pause with their guns raised, breathing heavily in anticipation of the results when both of their suits glow red. Tiffany grunts, restraining her pain as she clutches her hip and falls to the floor. Kassian grinds his teeth as he falls to his knee and holds his shoulder. Closing his eyes as he tries to subside the anguish.

"That's a tie!" Sir Tristan says, "The fifth one between the two of you,"

"Sir knew that would happen," Julz chuckles to herself.

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"Ah," Sir Tristan raises his finger before chuckling, "I had a feeling it would happen,"

"What's the point of a tie?" Pete, the slender kid who likes collecting toy cars, groans. We call them toy cars, but he gets really pissy about it and calls them 'collectables'.

"Simply put, a tie is the second best outcome. Neutralizing your opponent is a huge success in comparison to Mich's outcome," Sir Tristan explains.

"So the Academy doesn't mind if we die, as long as we take the enemy down with us?" Dante scoffs.

"Surviving is still the best outcome. And one that The Academy would prefer," Sir Tristan responds.

"Oooh," Some of the students swoon before the majority of them start applauding Sir Tristan's words.

"Very smooth with the propaganda, Sir T," Mich jests.

"It's not a matter of personal preference, but efficiency," Sir Tristan shrugs, grinning because he knows it irks the class to hear about the Academy's emotionless analytics. "You see, a battle is essentially a series of duels. Although more complex than a quick draw, they are a series of head-to-head encounters. If a soldier wins their first duel but ties their second. Their contribution to the battlefield will have resulted in a 'minus one' loss for the opponent. As they will have lost two soldiers in exchange for one,"

"So it's just a numbers game?" Julz rolls her eyes.

"Human lives are far more than numbers, but the battlefield has clearly defined factors of success and failure. The Academy simply believes in the prioritization of the factors of success,"

"Ugh," A few students grunt as they all clap in jest again.

"I didn't know we were in social-psych class," Pete scoffs.

Sir Tristan chuckles, pointing at Julz and then at Dante, "Lovebirds, in the sim," He turns to face Tiffany and Kassian, who are still recovering from their simulated wounds. "Kassian, Tiff. On the bench,"

"Yes, Sir," They both groan as they slog their way off the sandy strip.

Dante and Julz both walk onto the warm, desert sand and briefly glance at one another before both shifting to concentrated expressions.

"Take your stance," Sir Tristan announces.

They both shift their feet and dig their heels into the sand to get a sturdy posture. Holding their hands above their weapons and glaring across the strip at one another. Neither of them blinks or dips out of their concentration.

Sir Tristan raises his arm in the air and glances at the both of them, "Draw!"

Dante stammers as he reaches for his weapon, catching the end of his pistol in the holster. His eyes dart to his waist and then back up at Julz when a loud crash rings through the hall. She has her gun raised directly at him, and he fails to even get his gun out of the holster.

Dante stands straight up to accept defeat but his armor blinks red and a sharp, paralyzing pain rises within his chest and back. His body uncontrollably drops to the floor as he groans in agony of the searing pain.

"Julz wins this time," Sir Tristan calls out. "Dante didn't want to use his pistol, it would seem,"

The class chuckles at Sir Tristan's remarks and Julz walks over to Dante as he lies, curled up on the floor and places a hand on him. "Why'd you do that, Stupid?" She whispers before gently squeezing his arm and walking out of the sim.

"Get up Romeo," Mich chirps from the stands.

"I think it's quite cute," Grins Thando as she twirls her braids between her fingers.

"Cute?" Sir Tristan raises an eyebrow, "What exactly is "cute" about being shot in the chest?"

"He didn't want to hurt her, Sir," Thando responds with an ignorant appreciation for the duel.

"His gun just got stuck 'cause he's a dumbass," Mich sighs.

"I'm pretty sure it was a strategic-romantic decision," Kassian jests.

"Ah, of course," Sir Tristan runs a finger along his moustache.

"He's gonna' get laid!" An unknown assailant yells out, encouraging the rest of the class to cackle aloud.

"Whatever," Julz says as she sits down beside the others. "At least we actually get laid,"

The class blushes at her response, largely because it just isn't true but also because Julz and Dante are technically the only 'official' couple in the entire class. So as far as love goes, she's right.

"Now, Now," Sir Tristan scolds, "You can discuss your personal lives outside of class,"

Funnily enough, the academy isn't opposed to sex. In fact, they seem to subtly promote it considering they provide contraception in the Academy bathrooms. Most of the class speculates there is a reason for its views but publicizing them would deviate too far from the story of the Academy they promote.

There's never been a case of pregnancy on the campus as far as anyone is aware, but many of the students doubt the truth of that.

Secrecy is one of the Academy's specialities.