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He smirked lightly to himself after he had yelled then closed his eyes.

"And make like the chesire cat I shall..." he muttered just above a whisper.

He quietly then undid the straps on one of his pant legs and secured the sheath of his sword to minimize it's noise. As he did so a slight glint caught his eye as he smirked lightly.

"There you are..." he muttered once more as he finished securing the sword in place.

He then once more took off jumping amongst the trees though this time surprisingly quietly. Not even birds stirred though it's possible his earlier outbursts just scared them all away. He silently jumped about the trees circling where he had seen the glint trying to attain a visual on his opponent as he licked his lips hungrily.

Michael heard the change in the atmosphere and noise level. It dropped suddenly. So did he. He could move faster and quieter on the ground. Before he dropped, though, he left his sword in the tree. He could always retrieve it later. Michael marked the tree with a slash from his dirk, then took off. Now he had his decoy. Michael turned and ran to the east, hoping to circle around. He was laying a false trail to the east. He stopped, then hit the ground and began crawling towards the north.

He finally located the source of the glint and scooped up the sword. He grinned a bit as he examined the blade before giving it a quick twirl. He then looked about in silence for a moment before smirking.

"He's good. Very good. A being who chooses to avoid potential conflict. He knows where he needs to go so he's probally heading there."

He then made his way down to the ground and to the trail through the woods. He then put the sword in his belt and shoved his hands in his pockets as he began walking quietly along the trail back towards the building. On occasion he would whistle a soft tune for a few moments as he walked.

Michael kept crawling; at least it was easier than Basic. There the Drill Sergeants had used live ammmunition, while the privates were crawling in the dirt and mud. At least after he 'won' he could change and put on a shirt and some blue jeans. The kilt was good for formal stuff and teaching, but Michael wore blue jeans for the dirty stuff; combat as a civilian, fencing, and when it was cold. Not that the cold really affected him; he had spent an entire winter on a remote Royal Army base in the Scottish Highlands. Michael had grown used to cold and wet.

He kept crawling, knowing that his destination was at least within fifteen minutes more. He could do that, couldn't he? Yeah. Michael pushed himself to increase the pace, but stay just as quiet. Hopefully he wouldn't run into a snake.

He continued walking as he whistled softly more than likely passing right by Michael as he crawled along the ground. He didn't even seem to be looking about anymore as he continued walking up the trail towards the building.

Michael slithered further away from the path, silently swearing. Never again, he swore. Not only was he too old for this, he was a civilian. This was impossibly stupid. Those kids better be worth it. Stupid, stupid bloody fool. Of course, trust a random stranger. Quickest way to death, that is. Teenagers. Military history....Gonna start with the first recorded instance of battle, and analyze what the commanders did right and what they did wrong. If these kids are going to lead troops, they'll need to know what not to do. Jesus, I really think this is still above board? Damn, I'm stupid. Too far to turn back now. Just gotta keep going and hope I don't get arrested.

He arrived silently back at the building and went upstairs to the tavern silently and began cooking. He muttered a bit to himself as he did so pacing back and forth grabbing ingredients and other things he needed as he went. After a bit the smell would begin to fill the building and eventually drift outside.

"You sir, are a genuine, Grade A, son of a bitch. I am twenty-eight years old. I have not crawled through undergrowth like that since I was twenty-two. I have not climbed trees like that since I was twenty one and in Sniper school. I demand breakfast and a jeep to retrieve my rucksack. But breakfast first, you son of a bitch. And can we get some whiskey with breakfast. Yeah. Thanks." Michael entered the room where the food smell came from and glared at the fellow in front of him. He hadn't met anyone. He was dirty, tired, and needed a shower. And the bastard in front of him had his sword! "And my sword, while we're at it."

He chuckled a bit and shrugged as he kept his back turned to him.

"Where to start in replying to those accusations statements and demands? Let's see. Firstly. No need to demand something you were gonna get anyways. Hmm...since it's on the same lines as breakfast, you'll have to wait a minute for me to go get the whiskey as I keep it in a separate room. I don't have a jeep, but I do have a horse if they'll be an acceptable substitute to retrieve your rucksack."

Using one hand he yanked the sword from where it was and clasped it by the blade. He then pivoted his torso a bit and held it towards him handle first but kept an eye on the food.

"Also I don't recall telling you that you had to crawl and climb trees. That was your own choice. Thus you can't blame me for that one. All I said was that I liked to try and ambush from the sky."

He then turned his head and looked back at him showing his face finally and revealing himself to be the same guy he met in that little hole in the wall joint.

"By the way. How do you like your steak?"

Michael took the sword with a grateful nod. "The steak? Medium rare. If you let me know where the whiskey is, I'll go get it. And I don't mind horses. As to the bloody trees and crawling, you said you liked to ambush from the sky. So I evaded the area where an ambush from the sky could succeed. After evasion, ensuring I wouldn't be ambushed, I proceeded to elude you by crawling and leaving false trails. It worked in Mexico against soldiers, druggies, and partisans. I figured it would work here. Now, can I meet my students while I eat?"

He nodded lightly at his words and chuckled a bit.

"Understandable. And on the same note I just said that's what I like doing. Doesn't mean I would have done that. On a side note though I do appreciate that you brought a sword. I'm not to fond of guns. Their a cowards weapon far as I'm concerned. As for the whiskey. It's in my bed room. In the walk in closet. Go out in the hall. The big ornate door. As for meeting the students. They'll be here by the time dinner is ready. Well...he well. Turns out my daughter went somewhere and I got no clue when she'll be back. Once we're done eating we'll saddle up and go get your bag. How do ya like your eggs?"

"Not in the hands of a uniformed soldier, they're not. Just because I can kill from most of a mile away, or in your face, doesn't make the weapon a coward's weapon. Those who use their weapons to commit atrocities or support those in an unjust regime, yes. Cowards hiding behind a uniform and weapon. But bayonet fighting is not fun, sir. Not fun at all. And while swords are useful for ceremony, fencing, and the teaching of discipline and respect, most engagements on the battlefield take place at between two hundred and eight hundred meters. Not what I would call sword range. As for the eggs, as long as it's cooked, I'll eat it. If your daughter doesn't want to learn military history, it's applications, infantry skills, and their applications, that's her and your problem. Not mine." Michael left the room and went down the hall. The big ornate door, huh? Big, yes. Ornate? Mo. More like ostentatious as Hell. He shook his head and walked in, searching for a closet. When he found it, he smiled and went in. The things in the closet didn't concern him. Only the whiskey. He grabbed two bottles, then returned to the food. "Back. With whiskey. One of humanity's better inventions, it is."

He listened to his words quietly for a moment before smiling a bit.

"In the hands of the correct individual I wouldn't call them a cowards weapon specifically. It's a generalization coming from me. Using a gun to stop a gun is one thing. But it's another thing when you use one for intimidation purposes. Such as in a hold up. Also from a military stand point I think the gun originated due simply to minimize losses. Smart I will say. But the use of distance in such a manner to kill an enemy also possesses the ability to tear away ones pride. I mean yeah the people got families to go home to...loved ones friends and so forth but they, most of the time at least, willingly join the military to show they are willing to put their lives on the line to fight for what they believe in. Why not just go toe to toe with the enemy? Oh wait. Cause they are afraid of losing so they decide to attack from long range. Because their cowards. So then to protect themselves these men are forced to pick up this 'cowards weapon' in order to properly defend themselves. Use of the machination for defense is all good but to wield it to draw first blood...yeah.hence my generalization of calling it a cowards weapon."

He then shifted his weight a bit and cracked a few eggs into a skillet.

"It's nothing against you. It's just everyone has an opinion and that's mine."

"Mphm... Opinions are like penises. They are not meant to be shown in public or shoved down unwilling people's throats. Get your son in here, sir. He needs to know I can still run with the big dogs. You know. I know. I'm not sure he knows. He needs to. I fully intend on proscribing an exercise regimen and completing it with him. He may be fit. But he's not special forces fit. I still am, though it gets harder every year, I tell you. I hate getting old." Michael smiled, then sat and opened one bottle of whiskey. He took a pull from it, grimaced, then shrugged. It would get him trashed just the same as Glenfiddach's best Single Malt whiskey from 1990.

As though summoned, Minato walked through the door in his normal array of clothes and his twim hook swords across his back.

"Whats cookin' dad?"

He then glanced at Michael in his kilt and such.

"And who's the scottsman? Don't recognize him."

After a moment of looking him over, he shrugged lightly before surprisingly sitting at the bar right next to him. He then sniffed the air.

"Smells like you when you have a good time that doesn't involve fighting."

He then chuckled a tad.

He turned and looked at Minato as he entered and grinned a bit.

"I think I'll let him introduce himself to you. This'll be interesting."

He then started shoveling food onto plates before turning and setting a plate in front of both them.

"Bloody Scotsman, am I? I didn't know Scots could win Congressional Medals of Honor for extreme stupidity on the field of honor. I was born in the Smokey Mountains, you young whippersnapper. I'm Michael Alasdair MacKenzie, and I'm busy trying to get smashed drunk as an Irish skunk. I will be your teacher. When not smashed, which is weeks. On weekends, I'll probably be trying to crawl into a bottle and stay there. Now shut up and let me drink in peace." Michael glared for a moment, then went back to talking to his bottle.

"I know, mate. Bloody kids. No respect. I bet the bloody fool actually knows how to use such useless swords. No good in a fight in an alley. Or drunk. Hey. Shuddup. You don't talk to me like that. Go see what the other drinks are doing in my stomach, damn it."

He looked at Michael and chuckled a bit.

"Sounds like you may start crawling any second now. And I called ya scottsman because of the kilt. Oh and 'whippersnapper'? That's my dad. He's the one who can use a whip quite well. And no duh that my swords wouldn't do good in a alley. Too narrow. I got martial arts for that."

He then looked at the food before closing his eyes and bowing his head.

"Itakadamatsu..." he spoke softly before starting to eat.

He watched the exchange and chuckled a bit as he fixed himself a plate and set it on the bar.

"Well eat up. Then we'll go get your bag then get you settled in for the night."

[looks like a fun rp, mind if I join? *Pokes kyle*]