The night of the gang meeting passed like the calm before a storm. The words exchanged, the threats unspoken, the tension left hanging in the air—it was all heavy enough to suffocate anyone in Rebel Town.
No one slept soundly that night.
And when the sun rose again, so did the tension.
The next day, Zain stood in the courtyard behind the old library, hands buried in his pockets, eyes sharp but unreadable. Orion leaned against the cracked brick wall, chewing on a lollipop stick, while Alice paced back and forth, muttering under his breath like a man carrying a secret too heavy to bear.
Zain finally broke the silence. His voice was low, steady—calm in a way that felt more dangerous than shouting.
"I heard WS is running a drug business inside the college." He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked on Alice. "Is that true?"
Alice froze for a second, his jaw tightening. Then he gave a slow nod.
"Yeah. It's true."
Orion's eyes narrowed, his usual lazy demeanor gone. "Tch… figures. WS doesn't know when to quit."
Zain's gaze didn't waver. "Who's in charge?"
Alice hesitated, glancing around as if the shadows themselves could be listening. Finally, he leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Tastin. He runs the operation. Mahir only takes ten percent. Tastin controls the rest. The money, the distribution—everything."
Zain's eyes darkened. "You know where their hideout is?"
Alice nodded once. "…I know."
That was all Zain needed.
"Then we're raiding it." His tone was final, absolute. "Today."
---
Hours later, the three walked down a dim hallway deep within the college's abandoned west wing. The cracked tiles, broken lights, and peeling walls made it look like a place forgotten by time—but tonight, it was alive with shadows.
Orion walked silently, hands in his hoodie pocket, his calm face masking a storm beneath. Alice followed, his sharp eyes darting around constantly. But Zain… he walked like a man already prepared for war.
When they reached the door, muffled laughter and music leaked out. Zain didn't knock. He pushed the door open.
The air inside was thick with smoke, alcohol, and ego. Tastin's crew lounged on sofas, their boots on tables, laughing too loud, drinking too much, smoking like kings in their rotten little empire.
On the far side, one of Tastin's men was beating a younger boy, each slap echoing sharply in the cramped room. The boy didn't even cry anymore—he was too broken for that.
Zain stepped forward, each footstep deliberate, his presence heavy enough to shift the air.
"This ends now," he said, his voice calm but carrying like a blade slicing silence. "No more drugs. No more fear. Not here."
Heads turned. The laughter died instantly.
Tastin, lounging in the middle of the sofa, looked up with a lazy smirk, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He tilted his head, sizing Zain up, and chuckled.
"You're gonna stop my business?" he said, leaning back like he owned the room. "That's rich."
Zain didn't reply.
He moved without warning—crossing the room in three strides and slamming his fist into the jaw of the thug beating the boy.
The guy collapsed instantly, crashing into the table with a grunt.
Silence.
Then—
"GET HIM!!" Tastin roared, springing to his feet.
Five men charged forward at once.
Zain stood still, shoulders relaxed, eyes like sharpened steel. "You're gonna beat me?" he asked quietly, almost like a whisper carried by thunder.
Orion sighed. "Guess I'm getting my hands dirty today."
In the next heartbeat, he vanished from Zain's side.
One kick—CRACK—down went the first man.
Two sharp elbows—THUD, THUD—two more collapsed before they even understood what happened. Orion moved like a shadow wearing fists, his strikes precise, merciless, efficient. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. Every hit landed exactly where it needed to.
The fourth guy swung a metal bat, but Orion ducked, slammed his palm under the man's chin, and sent him sprawling across the floor.
In less than ten seconds, four men were out cold.
Alice whistled low, folding his arms. "So the lazy guy can fight."
Orion glanced back without a smile. "I just don't like wasting energy."
Zain didn't move until the last thug dropped. Then, slowly, he walked toward Tastin.
The so-called "leader" had gone pale, the smirk wiped clean from his face. He backed up a step, but Zain didn't stop.
He reached Tastin, plucked the cigarette from his lips, dropped it onto the floor, and crushed it under his shoe.
"How does this make you feel?" Zain asked, his tone low and even. "Does it put out the fire inside you… or were you already burned out?"
Tastin opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His hands trembled at his sides.
Zain leaned in just enough for their eyes to meet. "Remember this feeling."
He turned without waiting for an answer.
Orion followed. Alice paused, giving Tastin one last cold look before leaving, then closed the door behind him.
Just before stepping out into the hallway, Zain spoke over his shoulder, voice steady, deadly calm:
"If you ever go back to this life…" His gaze flicked to the unconscious bodies scattered across the floor. "Your end will be like theirs."
No one dared to respond.
---
They walked out into the cold night, the smoke from the room clinging faintly to their clothes.
Alice broke the silence first. "You think Tastin's gonna back off?"
"No," Zain said simply. "But now… he knows where the line is."
Orion smirked faintly, slipping his hands back into his hoodie pocket. "And if he crosses it?"
Zain's eyes sharpened, his voice as quiet as the night around them.
"Then WS will learn what happens when you play with fire."
The smoke remained behind them.
But the fear… the fear left with them.
---
Smoke Beneath the Skull (850 words)
---
The night of the gang meeting passed like the calm before a storm. The words exchanged, the threats unspoken, the tension left hanging in the air—it was all heavy enough to suffocate anyone in Rebel Town.
No one slept soundly that night.
And when the sun rose again, so did the tension.
---
The next day, Zain stood in the courtyard behind the old library, hands buried in his pockets, eyes sharp but unreadable. Orion leaned against the cracked brick wall, chewing on a lollipop stick, while Alice paced back and forth, muttering under his breath like a man carrying a secret too heavy to bear.
Zain finally broke the silence. His voice was low, steady—calm in a way that felt more dangerous than shouting.
"I heard WS is running a drug business inside the college." He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked on Alice. "Is that true?"
Alice froze for a second, his jaw tightening. Then he gave a slow nod.
"Yeah. It's true."
Orion's eyes narrowed, his usual lazy demeanor gone. "Tch… figures. WS doesn't know when to quit."
Zain's gaze didn't waver. "Who's in charge?"
Alice hesitated, glancing around as if the shadows themselves could be listening. Finally, he leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Tastin. He runs the operation. Mahir only takes ten percent. Tastin controls the rest. The money, the distribution—everything."
Zain's eyes darkened. "You know where their hideout is?"
Alice nodded once. "…I know."
That was all Zain needed.
"Then we're raiding it." His tone was final, absolute. "Today."
---
Hours later, the three walked down a dim hallway deep within the college's abandoned west wing. The cracked tiles, broken lights, and peeling walls made it look like a place forgotten by time—but tonight, it was alive with shadows.
Orion walked silently, hands in his hoodie pocket, his calm face masking a storm beneath. Alice followed, his sharp eyes darting around constantly. But Zain… he walked like a man already prepared for war.
When they reached the door, muffled laughter and music leaked out. Zain didn't knock. He pushed the door open.
The air inside was thick with smoke, alcohol, and ego. Tastin's crew lounged on sofas, their boots on tables, laughing too loud, drinking too much, smoking like kings in their rotten little empire.
On the far side, one of Tastin's men was beating a younger boy, each slap echoing sharply in the cramped room. The boy didn't even cry anymore—he was too broken for that.
Zain stepped forward, each footstep deliberate, his presence heavy enough to shift the air.
"This ends now," he said, his voice calm but carrying like a blade slicing silence. "No more drugs. No more fear. Not here."
Heads turned. The laughter died instantly.
Tastin, lounging in the middle of the sofa, looked up with a lazy smirk, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He tilted his head, sizing Zain up, and chuckled.
"You're gonna stop my business?" he said, leaning back like he owned the room. "That's rich."
Zain didn't reply.
He moved without warning—crossing the room in three strides and slamming his fist into the jaw of the thug beating the boy.
The guy collapsed instantly, crashing into the table with a grunt.
Silence.
Then—
"GET HIM!!" Tastin roared, springing to his feet.
Five men charged forward at once.
Zain stood still, shoulders relaxed, eyes like sharpened steel. "You're gonna beat me?" he asked quietly, almost like a whisper carried by thunder.
Orion sighed. "Guess I'm getting my hands dirty today."
In the next heartbeat, he vanished from Zain's side.
One kick—CRACK—down went the first man.
Two sharp elbows—THUD, THUD—two more collapsed before they even understood what happened. Orion moved like a shadow wearing fists, his strikes precise, merciless, efficient. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. Every hit landed exactly where it needed to.
The fourth guy swung a metal bat, but Orion ducked, slammed his palm under the man's chin, and sent him sprawling across the floor.
In less than ten seconds, four men were out cold.
Alice whistled low, folding his arms. "So the lazy guy can fight."
Orion glanced back without a smile. "I just don't like wasting energy."
Zain didn't move until the last thug dropped. Then, slowly, he walked toward Tastin.
The so-called "leader" had gone pale, the smirk wiped clean from his face. He backed up a step, but Zain didn't stop.
He reached Tastin, plucked the cigarette from his lips, dropped it onto the floor, and crushed it under his shoe.
"How does this make you feel?" Zain asked, his tone low and even. "Does it put out the fire inside you… or were you already burned out?"
Tastin opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His hands trembled at his sides.
Zain leaned in just enough for their eyes to meet. "Remember this feeling."
He turned without waiting for an answer.
Orion followed. Alice paused, giving Tastin one last cold look before leaving, then closed the door behind him.
Just before stepping out into the hallway, Zain spoke over his shoulder, voice steady, deadly calm:
"If you ever go back to this life…" His gaze flicked to the unconscious bodies scattered across the floor. "Your end will be like theirs."
No one dared to respond.
---
They walked out into the cold night, the smoke from the room clinging faintly to their clothes.
Alice broke the silence first. "You think Tastin's gonna back off?"
"No," Zain said simply. "But now… he knows where the line is."
Orion smirked faintly, slipping his hands back into his hoodie pocket. "And if he crosses it?"
Zain's eyes sharpened, his voice as quiet as the night around them.
"Then WS will learn what happens when you play with fire."
The smoke remained behind them.
But the fear… the fear left with them.
---