Sharifistani School of Fencing (IC)

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Clark could see that the military had managed to get their trucks moved out of the ruins of the restaurant front. Considering the trucks were non-functional that was pretty impressive, they must have all gotten out and pushed, which while not being the brightest idea, was still better than being trapped in a building and slowly poisoned by rising carbon monoxide levels. Clark would have just shut the motor off and turned the kitchen exhaust fan on to clear away the gas. They were chasing after him now. Clark was well experienced with running from soldiers, especially after that domino incident with the missiles when he'd been a military engineer in HIreland. These guys didn't seem all that bright, every time they had failed to bring down Edric they had just used the same plan again but with more guns. Clark was good enough at science to know that carbon monoxide was lighter than air, especially after coming out of a hot engine, so he would be safest from it in the storm-drain system. He lifted a drain cover and dropped safely below the gas level. He crawled through the pipe, pushing his box of parts in front of him, the newly added car parts reading "not the property of the Sharifistani military", with the "not" in permanent marker. He's like to see the soldiers try crawling through this pipe. There were times being built like a beanpole came in handy. All he had to do was get out of the local area, it was unlikely that the soldiers would bother him later, not with all they had going on at the moment. They should be trying to get out of the street, and dropping down into a drainage system to follow him was the last thing they wanted to do, unless they wanted to be stuck in a pit next to a pipe they couldn't fit through with carbon monoxide starting to diffuse down as it cooled. Clark turned a corner in the pipe and began heading in the direction of the school. He hoped he'd have a chance to work that idea he'd had for a caner cure. He'd tried suggesting it but his proposal had been rejected for including the word "awesome" too many times. Hopefully the school would re-open soon and then he could get to work. There wasn't much point in being here if there wasn't a school.

The elite soldiers split up to find him when he gets out, each platoon goes a separate direction.
Conscripts roam around looking for suspicious characters.

[HIreland]

Clark clawed in the downhill direction until he reached a larger pipe where he could at least kneel. He tried pulling out his phone to check which direction the school was in, but he didn't get any reception. Of course not, he was in a metal pipe. He crawled farther downhill. The box made ribbing noises on the ground as he pushed it in front of him, which echoed throughout the pipe. A trickle of wastewater ran underneath him, dampening his shoes and getting the legs of his pants wet as he crawled. He was lucky it wasn't raining, or he could get washed away. He saw something up ahead. It didn't look like something that was supposed to be a part of the pipe. It appeared to be some sort of jerry-rigged grease trap, which flowed into an outlet crudely cut into the side of the pipe. Clark pushed himself through the narrow opening. He found himself in a dug-out underground room with dirt walls and crude supports, filled with tanks of old grease. Ahead of him he could see where it met up with the basement of a building. He ducked behind one of the tanks as he heard voices. "You fool I told you to dig into the sewer. There's almost no drain oil in the stormdrains!" "It's not as if they put labels on the pipes, one looks just like another." "At least we have the oil our men got from melting down that fat-berg last week, and the scraps from the slaughterhouse." "Not to mention the used frying oil from the restaurants." "Those Sharifistanians can't tell gutter oil from real food-grade oil. We've got them eating everything, even pig fat!" The man spat and the other laughed. "Of all the things we've been selling to food companies, oil from pig fat is probably the least unsanitary. It's ironic that the pig fat is what would upset them the most - if they ever found out." The two voices were growing fainter, and Clark could hear the footsteps were moving away. He knew had to get out of here. He voices again, more of them, and heading in his way. They must be coming to collect the drums. He spotted a drum that was only about a quarter full, and dived into it, and pulled the cover over the top. With his weight and the lid on, with any luck they would think it was a full drum and carry it out with the rest. He felt the drum being lifted, he was in luck. In a few minutes he was loaded onto a truck with other drums. Once he heard the door close he threw the lid off and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was a good thing he didn't have to keep the lid on for too long, or he'd have suffocated in there. As he pulled his box of parts out of the drum, he noticed his cell phone was on. He'd tried to call Beth while in the storm drain, it must have connected once he was out. Which would mean that entire conversation had been sent to Beth. Beth had run a bar, and if there was anything Beth didn't tolerate, it was corrupt suppliers. He remembered the incident with the methanol beer. She wouldn't take well the to pig fat either, pigs were a sensitive subject with her. While he was here, he might as well make the best of the situation, and some of the truck parts looked rather useful.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Clark clawed in the downhill direction until he reached a larger pipe where he could at least kneel. He tried pulling out his phone to check which direction the school was in, but he didn't get any reception. Of course not, he was in a metal pipe. He crawled farther downhill. The box made ribbing noises on the ground as he pushed it in front of him, which echoed throughout the pipe. A trickle of wastewater ran underneath him, dampening his shoes and getting the legs of his pants wet as he crawled. He was lucky it wasn't raining, or he could get washed away. He saw something up ahead. It didn't look like something that was supposed to be a part of the pipe. It appeared to be some sort of jerry-rigged grease trap, which flowed into an outlet crudely cut into the side of the pipe. Clark pushed himself through the narrow opening. He found himself in a dug-out underground room with dirt walls and crude supports, filled with tanks of old grease. Ahead of him he could see where it met up with the basement of a building. He ducked behind one of the tanks as he heard voices. "You fool I told you to dig into the sewer. There's almost no drain oil in the stormdrains!" "It's not as if they put labels on the pipes, one looks just like another." "At least we have the oil our men got from melting down that fat-berg last week, and the scraps from the slaughterhouse." "Not to mention the used frying oil from the restaurants." "Those Sharifistanians can't tell gutter oil from real food-grade oil. We've got them eating everything, even pig fat!" The man spat and the other laughed. "Of all the things we've been selling to food companies, oil from pig fat is probably the least unsanitary. It's ironic that the pig fat is what would upset them the most - if they ever found out." The two voices were growing fainter, and Clark could hear the footsteps were moving away. He knew had to get out of here. He voices again, more of them, and heading in his way. They must be coming to collect the drums. He spotted a drum that was only about a quarter full, and dived into it, and pulled the cover over the top. With his weight and the lid on, with any luck they would think it was a full drum and carry it out with the rest. He felt the drum being lifted, he was in luck. In a few minutes he was loaded onto a truck with other drums. Once he heard the door close he threw the lid off and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was a good thing he didn't have to keep the lid on for too long, or he'd have suffocated in there. As he pulled his box of parts out of the drum, he noticed his cell phone was on. He'd tried to call Beth while in the storm drain, it must have connected once he was out. Which would mean that entire conversation had been sent to Beth. Beth had run a bar, and if there was anything Beth didn't tolerate, it was corrupt suppliers. He remembered the incident with the methanol beer. She wouldn't take well the to pig fat either, pigs were a sensitive subject with her. While he was here, he might as well make the best of the situation, and some of the truck parts looked rather useful.

The current suppliers saw him and chased after him
"Informer!" and "spy!" They yelled before pulling out firearms and pointing them at his head.

[HIreland]

OOC: he's alone in the cargo area of the truck.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

OOC: he's alone in the cargo area of the truck.

IC: the trucks drive to a cheap Chinese takeaway in the City of Industry.
The men open the doors and proceed to take out all the drums.

[HIreland]

Clark jumped back into his drum and pulled the lid back over himself before they could see him. This time he'd managed to rig up a breathing tube using their steering and break lines. They would be missing those as soon as they tried driving again, but Clark would be able to breathe in the drum. And it helped not to have to smell the nasty oil. The men were speaking again. "This stuff smells terrible, I can't wait to until we heat it to sterilization temperatures." "That only stops the oil from smelling, it won't do anything about you." The men laughed among themselves. "The drums are color coded for distribution, red goes to the east side of the city, blue to the west side, and the green here is a relatively new deal we've made, with a school of fencing that's opened recently." Clark tried not to vomit when he realized what he'd eaten for lunch earlier. If they heard him they would catch him, but if he stayed here he'd end up getting boiled alive in the oil when they sterilized it. He had just been carried into the restaurant when he heard the sound of the truck crashing. That would be them missing their brakes and steering, Clark thought, glad that his kleptomania had come to good use. The men cursed and ran in the direction of the truck. Clark climbed out of his barrel once they were far enough away and dashed behind the oil processing equipment.

---

Beth heard the conversation on her phone, and she was not happy, not even close. Sewage fats, in her lunch?! Beth uploaded the audio clips to the school media app, and headed in the direction of the call. Those men were going to regret messing with her food.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Clark jumped back into his drum and pulled the lid back over himself before they could see him. This time he'd managed to rig up a breathing tube using their steering and break lines. They would be missing those as soon as they tried driving again, but Clark would be able to breathe in the drum. And it helped not to have to smell the nasty oil. The men were speaking again. "This stuff smells terrible, I can't wait to until we heat it to sterilization temperatures." "That only stops the oil from smelling, it won't do anything about you." The men laughed among themselves. "The drums are color coded for distribution, red goes to the east side of the city, blue to the west side, and the green here is a relatively new deal we've made, with a school of fencing that's opened recently." Clark tried not to vomit when he realized what he'd eaten for lunch earlier. If they heard him they would catch him, but if he stayed here he'd end up getting boiled alive in the oil when they sterilized it. He had just been carried into the restaurant when he heard the sound of the truck crashing. That would be them missing their brakes and steering, Clark thought, glad that his kleptomania had come to good use. The men cursed and ran in the direction of the truck. Clark climbed out of his barrel once they were far enough away and dashed behind the oil processing equipment.

---

Beth heard the conversation on her phone, and she was not happy, not even close. Sewage fats, in her lunch?! Beth uploaded the audio clips to the school media app, and headed in the direction of the call. Those men were going to regret messing with her food.

OOC: can I control these characters now?

[HIreland]

Clark jumped back into his drum and pulled the lid back over himself before they could see him. This time he'd managed to rig up a breathing tube using their steering and break lines. They would be missing those as soon as they tried driving again, but Clark would be able to breathe in the drum. And it helped not to have to smell the nasty oil. The men were speaking again. "This stuff smells terrible, I can't wait to until we heat it to sterilization temperatures." "That only stops the oil from smelling, it won't do anything about you." The men laughed among themselves. "The drums are color coded for distribution, red goes to the east side of the city, blue to the west side, and the green here is a relatively new deal we've made, with a school of fencing that's opened recently." Clark tried not to vomit when he realized what he'd eaten for lunch earlier. If they heard him they would catch him, but if he stayed here he'd end up getting boiled alive in the oil when they sterilized it. He had just been carried into the restaurant when he heard the sound of the truck crashing. That would be them missing their brakes and steering, Clark thought, glad that his kleptomania had come to good use. The men cursed and ran in the direction of the truck. Clark climbed out of his barrel once they were far enough away and dashed behind the oil processing equipment.

---

Beth heard the conversation on her phone, and she was not happy, not even close. Sewage fats, in her lunch?! Beth uploaded the audio clips to the school media app, and headed in the direction of the call. Those men were going to regret messing with her food.

OOC: can I control these characters now?

Go ahead.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

The men took out drums, they tried to take out the drum Clarke was hiding it but it was too heavy.
"What?" One of them asked before taking out the other drums and putting them in the food.
"That local idiot recovered..." one of them whispered, looking over their shoulder before spitting on the pavement.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

The Madinat Al-Islam Police scowled once they figure out what was going on!
"Great! Before it was the Munkcestrians doing it and it's a bunch of Chinese people?!
I want 1,000 uniforms and 100 detectives on this!" Said their Chief Police Officer.

[HIreland]

"Local idiot". At first Clark thought that meant they'd spotted him, but then he realized it wouldn't make sense applied to him. He was relieved they still hadn't found him. Who did they mean by "that local idiot"... could they mean the man who had been shot? This was bad. This was very bad.

---

Beth's stomach growled with anger, it had been personally offend and it was looking for revenge. Beth ran along the street, following the cell signal from Clark. She saw smoke up ahead, they must be there, she thought and dashed ahead. As she passed the wrecked truck she picked up the iron post of a destroyed parking meter. Those men were going to pay, she thought, and charged ahead, swinging the parking meter like a broadsword.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

"Local idiot". At first Clark thought that meant they'd spotted him, but then he realized it wouldn't make sense applied to him. He was relieved they still hadn't found him. Who did they mean by "that local idiot"... could they mean the man who had been shot? This was bad. This was very bad.

---

Beth's stomach growled with anger, it had been personally offend and it was looking for revenge. Beth ran along the street, following the cell signal from Clark. She saw smoke up ahead, they must be there, she thought and dashed ahead. As she passed the wrecked truck she picked up the iron post of a destroyed parking meter. Those men were going to pay, she thought, and charged ahead, swinging the parking meter like a broadsword.

2 tall, Pashtun policemen saw her,
"hault and drop the weapon!" They commanded.

[HIreland]

"Don't try to stop me I've got to beat those people who put drain oil and pig fat into our lunches," Beth yelled at the policemen. The men were just across the parking lot, she was so close to being able to beat them up for what they'd done, if only she could get past the policemen who were checking out the truck crash. She pulled out her phone with the recordings on it and tossed it to them. "There's evidence on here you need to arrest them and let me hit them with this parking meter."

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

"Don't try to stop me I've got to beat those people who put drain oil and pig fat into our lunches," Beth yelled at the policemen. The men were just across the parking lot, she was so close to being able to beat them up for what they'd done, if only she could get past the policemen who were checking out the truck crash. She pulled out her phone with the recordings on it and tossed it to them. "There's evidence on here you need to arrest them and let me hit them with this parking meter."

"We will arrest them but no one is to beaten today, lady"
Says one of the policemen.

They walk up to the criminals and arrest them after pointing their guns at them, reading them their rights.

The criminals put their hands up and come quietly.
They may be horrible people but they're smart enough to know they can't outrun the law.

They're taken into the police car which is driven to a police station where they are incarcerated.

[HIreland]

Clark really needed to change his clothes, after crawling through the drainage system and riding in a quarter-full drum of gutter oil. He wandered into the restaurant to look for clean clothing. He found himself surrounded by oil processing equipment and in the corner a filing cabinet. After relieving the equipment of a few parts it wouldn't be needing now that this place had been put out of operation, Clark checked the cabinet in the corner. No clothes, unsurprisingly, if Clark found clothes in the filing cabinet that would be a first. What he did find was a number of folders, which seemed to contain odd notes and writings. Some appeared to be accounts of who they had sold the oil too. Another one looked strange. It appeared to be a list of contacts, under false names. That was a long list. A very long list. This organisation was far bigger than he'd thought it was. He received a message on his phone through the school media app. It was addressed to everybody, but it didn't list a sender.

"You have bruised our heel. Now we will crush your head. If you don't want to end up like Rêdûr Şêrdil, you should do one thing - RUN."

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

"You have bruised our heel. Now we will crush your head. If you don't want to end up like Rêdûr Şêrdil, you should do one thing - RUN."

Mein Gott. Julia gawked at her phone. A threat--an anonymous threat--in the school messaging app? What the actual--

The door to her lodging blew open. Frightened, Julia leaped off the couch, stiffening when she noted that her guards were pouring into the room.

"Your Highness, get your things. We're taking you to a secure location--now."

She was too stunned to move. "Are we leaving Sharifistan?"

"Not yet. Take as much as you can carry, Julia! We'll help with the rest of your things."

None of this made any sense. What did that threat even mean? Whose "heel" had someone bruised? And how? Perhaps it has to do with...no, not with that. She pressed her fingers into her temples.

"Your Highness. MOVE!"

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Muhammad Khan made his mind up,
He is joining the Royal Gendarmerie.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

The Royal Gendarmerie post on the school social media thread
"If any of you are worried call this number..."
And then gives the number for the Royal Gendarmerie.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

It's announced on social media:
The school is re-opened under armed guard from the Royal Gendarmerie.

[HIreland]

Beth dropped the parking meter and kicked it angrily. She had been hoping to beat up the suppliers personally. Her phone pinged with the message that the school was open. The school was a good place to get into a fight. Beth decided to go back to the school, and maybe get into another fight. But not with the parking meter.

---

Clark received another message on his phone. Great, the school was back open. Giving up on trying to find clothes in the Chinese restaurant, Clark started heading in the direction of the school. Maybe he'd get some clothes there so he wouldn't keep smelling like a garbage dump.

[Scornerse]

Estella read the news alert coming into her phone as she sat in the hotel room that she'd been staying at with her sister.

"Finally." She said.

"What?" Carissa inquired in the midst of her moring sit ups.

"The scool will be reopened...". Estella began

"Took long enough." Carrissa interrupted

"Under armed guard." Estella continued

"Uhh, damn it." Carissa said with disappointment.

" 'uhh damn it' what?" Estella asked.

"Well apprently if the rumors are true, the pig Beth isn't in jail anymore." Carissa responded.

"...and..." Estella said, pretty sure of what Carissa was getting at.

"I didn't exactly get to conclude my fight with her." Carissa finished,

"Seriously?" Saud Estella, some what incredulously.

"And if there's a high police presence, I don't think I'll be able to." Carissa added

"I think protecting the school in the aftermath of a murder is a little more important than you getting to fight someone." Estella said rather exasperated.

"Oh come on, it's bad for you too, what if you need to throw hands with that princess?" Carissa prodded

"For the last time Carissa, I'm not resolving to hate someone just because they're a royal, having never gotten to know them, half the school is royalty. Besides with all the controversy and violence she might not even stay." Said a mildly frustrated estella

"Because she's privileged and can't handle things not going her way." Said Carissa

"No, because not returning to a school after someone in it has been murdered in cold blood is not exactly unreasonable." Said Estella in response to carissa.

"Meh." Carissa shrugged

Estells let out a sigh.

"Just teasing you stelly, I really want to ruin that Beth, though." Said Carissa

"I know you do, but she was really kicking your ass though, never seen you scream like you did when she fell on you, usually you make other girls scream." Said Estella in a half hearted attempt deter her from wanting to fight again.

"She's a fatty, what can I say, when we fought up right, I gave her some nasty surprises, doubt she's been hit by another girl that hard before. Perhaps I could have knocked her down and gave her a couple good stomps on a joint before the cop told me to stop." Said Carissa, still ver much committed to picking s fight with beth when the opportunity present it's self.

"Do you ever think about anything other than fighting?" Estella said, with a frown.

"What was there to think about, the day was cut short by a murder and before that, it was the fight. I'd talk about something esle is there was something else to talk about." Responded Carissa

"I suppose you're right." Estella reluctantly agreed.

"So, you know this Princess Julia listed her 'potter house' in her school bio, as if that wasn't bad enough, she identifies as slytherin. There is no way you two don't end up hating eachother." Carissa returned to teasing.

"Carrissa." Estella said, sternly

"What?" Carissa asked, knowing what was coming next bsed on Estella's attitude.

"Shut up, or the next person both of us will be fighting, is eachother." Said an upset Estellsa

"Ok, I'll stop, I don't want you to nearly break my neck like you came close to last time."
Said Carissa, in an accusatory tone.


"Carissa that was like 2 years ago and I told you to tap." Said Estella who had heard carissa repeat the story more than once when they argued.

"I did and you looked directly at me, smiled and pulled for a little longer before you let go." Said Carissa, vividly recounting the terrifying smile she had seen on her sister's face.

"I don't remember that." Estella said, blankly.

"Which is even scarier." replied Carissa cynically

"Can we not get into this right now." Estella said, noticeably uncomfortable.

"Sure, sis, ready to go back?" said Carissa, bringing the conversation back to it's original topic.

"Oh yeah, I've stayed packed, you too?" Estella said.

Carissa nodded.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Madinat Al-Islam Palace, Madinat Al-Islam
Sultan Suleiman Khan, who recently had taken a break from military briefings in favour of entertaining guests and challenging people to duels, organises a military briefing.
He brings the Chief of Army Staff, the Chief Admiral, the Air-Marshal General, the Head of Military Intelligence, the Chief of the Gendarmerie and the Colonel of the Royal Madinat Al-Islam Infantry to discuss plans to respond to the crisis.
Sharifistani School of Fencing, Sharifistan
The new head has hired a private detective and ex-soldier called Ahmed Gulwal to investigate.

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Although the school was open, her security detail did not permit her to leave the temporary hiding place. Instead, they insisted, it would be prudent to wait until tomorrow morning to exit, when Julia would be escorted to her classes by her guards.

It was not the best way to introduce herself to her new classmates. But at least she was permitted to stay in Sharifistan, especially since she was finally beginning to adjust to the time difference.

Her classmates. If she had interpreted that sloppy profile correctly, one of them was Greta Schlossgarten. The girl who had come very close to murdering her.

Unless it was just a coincidence. Could there be someone named Greta attending the School of Fencing from somewhere like Austria? Potentially. Anything was possible. But Julia knew better than to hope for a simple coincidence.

[Scornerse]

Estella didn't mind doing research about sharifistani, as she didn't have much to do. If she was going to be in student politics, she'd need to know at least something about the political situation she was in, even outside of the school it's self.

The school had, four fsctions in it's politics, islamists, scientists, feminists and the young patriots. None of them particularly matched her politics, as being a good scornersean, she was a staunch leftist. As such, she was found herself left having to settle with the feminists.

The issue was, based on what she could find of her background, the feminist leader, Marie Constapel, was unlikely to fit her politics. While otherwise might be the case, it she was from a wealthy belgain family, and in all likelyhood her ideals of equality stopped at what helped a rich girl like her. Estella, being ambitous, wanted to find a way that she could get to know her politics and figure out how she'd go about un seating her from the leadership. But the reality is, it'd taje a whole lot of time to figure out the ins snd outs if student politics, time she'd spen

In her research of Sharifistani,that she had open in another tab on her laptop, when she considered it intreasting how beth could be left out so easily, was that mutual combat was very much legal, that was illegal was kicking an opponent while they were down, or breaking agreed upom rules in a fight.

It was in that moment that Estella, perhaps naively came across a rather intresting if drastic solution. She could physically fight Marie Constapel for leadership of the feminists. Challenge her to a fight that'd make Estella the leader if she won.

The issue was mutual combat had to be, well mutual. She'd have to get her to agree to a fight and agree to rules she needed.

It shouldn't be all too difficult, she was in a fencing school after all, it was a given that all the students were at least somewhat competitive. Plus this Marie was on the women's rugby team, it was unlikely she was the type to backdown from a public challenge, she might not even be inclinded to fight yet it might undermine her authority among her faction and rugby team to reject such a challenge

So a public challenge was what Estella levied, on the school social media website, on marie's wall. Maybe Carissa would stop teasing her after this:

"Marie Constapel, I don't think you're for fit to lead the feminist faction in the fight for true equality. I'd attempt to try remove you otherwise, but I think the language you likely know best is force.

That's why I am challenging you to a fist fight, at the location of your choosing. If I win, I become leader of the feminists, if I lose, you've made an example of me.

We fight standing up, no attacking each other if while the other has been knocked down. We fight until a 10 count knockout. No weapons, just our limbs and our boots.

I eagerly await your response."

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Estella didn't mind doing research about sharifistani, as she didn't have much to do. If she was going to be in student politics, she'd need to know at least something about the political situation she was in, even outside of the school it's self.

The school had, four fsctions in it's politics, islamists, scientists, feminists and the young patriots. None of them particularly matched her politics, as being a good scornersean, she was a staunch leftist. As such, she was found herself left having to settle with the feminists.

The issue was, based on what she could find of her background, the feminist leader, Marie Constapel, was unlikely to fit her politics. While otherwise might be the case, it she was from a wealthy belgain family, and in all likelyhood her ideals of equality stopped at what helped a rich girl like her. Estella, being ambitous, wanted to find a way that she could get to know her politics and figure out how she'd go about un seating her from the leadership. But the reality is, it'd taje a whole lot of time to figure out the ins snd outs if student politics, time she'd spen

In her research of Sharifistani,that she had open in another tab on her laptop, when she considered it intreasting how beth could be left out so easily, was that mutual combat was very much legal, that was illegal was kicking an opponent while they were down, or breaking agreed upom rules in a fight.

It was in that moment that Estella, perhaps naively came across a rather intresting if drastic solution. She could physically fight Marie Constapel for leadership of the feminists. Challenge her to a fight that'd make Estella the leader if she won.

The issue was mutual combat had to be, well mutual. She'd have to get her to agree to a fight and agree to rules she needed.

It shouldn't be all too difficult, she was in a fencing school after all, it was a given that all the students were at least somewhat competitive. Plus this Marie was on the women's rugby team, it was unlikely she was the type to backdown from a public challenge, she might not even be inclinded to fight yet it might undermine her authority among her faction and rugby team to reject such a challenge

So a public challenge was what Estella levied, on the school social media website, on marie's wall. Maybe Carissa would stop teasing her after this:

"Marie Constapel, I don't think you're for fit to lead the feminist faction in the fight for true equality. I'd attempt to try remove you otherwise, but I think the language you likely know best is force.

That's why I am challenging you to a fist fight, at the location of your choosing. If I win, I become leader of the feminists, if I lose, you've made an example of me.

We fight standing up, no attacking each other if while the other has been knocked down. We fight until a 10 count knockout. No weapons, just our limbs and our boots.

I eagerly await your response."

Marie Constapel said “Tuesday, outside Madinat Al-Islam Hospital,
Just in case.”