"Oh-oh, look who's finally here! Our school genius."
A blonde-haired guy said as he spread out his arms. His oceanic eyes sparkled, watching his puny rival pant at the hall's entrance.
And he was smiling…
The name on his student tag was Jett Cross. Diamond rings and bracelets. Well-kempt hair. Polished student uniform.
His whole look just screamed wealth at first sight.
"I figured you'd get here faster if I gave you a reason." - Jett gestured left with his hand.
Kneeling right there were two other students. Rhen Cole and Ivy Clark, as depicted on their tags. Hands tied and mouths sealed.
The other student at the entrance - Quinn Vale - suddenly walked inside. He panted lightly. And clenched his fist.
With no further questions, he wanted to let his fists do the talking.
"I begged you not to bring them into this!" Quinn groaned. But mere metres to Jett, he stopped.
He figured his tiny arms and frail body weren't enough to go one on one with him. Not to mention his clicks standing behind him like indestructible walls.
'Poor me…' Quinn thought to himself.
His chest pounded. He swallowed.
Jett moved closer and closer, and stopped right by Quinn's side. Just a step away, he whispered,
"We won't have to make this a scene if you just give in. Hm, Quinn?"
The high schooler slowly glared at him.
"Are you…?"
Jett chuckled.
"Transfer."
"What…?" Quinn stammered.
Jett neared him so close anyone watching from the back would think they're hugging. Anyone, except Quinn's and Jett's friends.
"How many more beatings do you need before you understand, Quinn? Transfer to another school. And you'll be doing yourself and your friends a favour." The air stilled in Quinn's throat. "Just transfer. It's that simple."
At that moment, Quinn got a strange feeling. He felt bold. Bold enough to say anything he wanted to say. And before he could hold his guts back, he looked Jett in the eyes and asked,
"Why? Because I'm the only guy stopping you from becoming top of the class?"
Jett chuckled. And he turned around, saying to his friends that,
"Wow, our Quinn just got bold!"
They all laughed. But Quinn was fuming, holding his shaky breaths in.
Jett then turned his face back at him. And he tilted his head in a way Quinn knew so well. The kind of reaction he gives when about to break character.
'Can I punch him first?!'
Jett held Quinn's shoulder. This made him stiffer.
"What a…" Jett sighed, "... stubborn bastard."
It was then Quinn saw a punch coming.
But failing to move himself away from the incoming attack, he realised the tight grip on his shoulder. Where Jett had held him seconds ago.
Quinn looked forward.
'Oh God!'
Jett punched his abdomen hard.
Yup. Definitely saw the stars. Or the whole galaxy.
***
Moments later, Quinn regained consciousness. He felt the rough ground beneath him. Rising from it, a sharp pain stabbed through his ribs.
He winced, then slowed down his movement till his upper body was off the ground.
But something… No… someone was waiting.
"You made your choice!"
Quinn quickly raised his arms to block Jett's incoming leg kick. It crashed against his defences, slamming his body into the ground.
He grimaced as more attacks landed. Each one is more intense than the previous one.
"You won't scream for help until your arms are halfway gone, right? RIGHT?! What a good day to be a LEVEL ZERO LEGEND!" Jett groaned. He hit Quinn more.
At one moment, the kicks stopped coming. Quinn thought he was free. Until he dared to peep upwards. His mouth fell agape as he saw the strongest of Jett's friends holding a club just above him.
"You shouldn't work yourself up with these ones. We'll handle them," said the guy, to Jett as he rolled up his sleeve.
Quinn heard a cry. It was familiar. He hurriedly jerked up, turning his glance around. And one moment, his lips parted.
He gritted his teeth.
"Rhen! Ivy!" he screamed his friends' names.
They were being pounded by the other two guys. And they cried out loud. Quinn glared up at Jett. He dragged his nails over the ground till he held his fists together.
"They can't take this! You have to tell your friends to stop!"
Jett bent over. And he frowned.
"Just drop dead, jerk. I gave you a chance and you flaunted it."
The strong guy stepped closer. Quinn drew back, his breath hitching.
"I will-"
But right then came the attack.
The guy slammed the club into Quinn's shoulder. He cried aloud. Afterwards was a wave of what he could no longer register.
Arms, legs, knees, abdomen - there was nowhere the attack didn't land.
A few seconds later, Jett rushed towards his friend. And gripped his arm still just before he would strike Quinn again.
They both looked down at the high schooler. Blood rolled down his forehead. And he could barely move any parts of his body.
Jett glanced at his friend with a look of worry.
"Did you have to go that far? You'd have killed him if I didn't stop you!"
The friend lowered his head. And said in a restrained manner,
"I thought you wanted him to 'drop dead'."
Jett raised his brows, breathed out and stared down at Quinn.
"Well, yes. But not actually…"
A phone vibrated right then. The two guys looked at it, right on the floor. And Jett picked it up. There were eight missed call notifications. From "Mom".
And the lock screen wallpaper was that of Quinn and an old lady. Definitely the one who called.
Jett looked at Quinn.
"Are you not willing to transfer because of her? So she doesn't worry?"
How sad Quinn couldn't even get his energy together to use his mouth. His eyes were closing. And in those pairs, one could see two things.
Regret. And… one other thing.
The phone vibrated again, in Jett's hand. But it was a strange message.
Jett blinked.
"Are you getting threatened by someone else?"
His eyes were fixated on the screen.
One moment, he looked Quinn's way. And said with a slight smile, "It's a death threat."
'You'll die at exactly 10pm.'
That's what the message said, sent by an unknown person.
… Everywhere grew creepily silent at once.
Even Jett felt it. He chuckled wryly and glanced at the two other guys. They had stopped beating Quinn's friends up.
"Why did you guys stop?"
Both of them were staring at a dark part of the hall. If Jett's brain was working just fine, there should be a gate there.
One of the guys shouted to him.
"I can smell gasoline!"
Jett rushed to his feet. And stomped towards them, dropping Quinn's phone in the process. Strong followed too.
…. "Gasoline?"
….. "Jett! Did you see that?"
"Oh my days! What's this man doing here? I thought the school dismissed him!"
Their voices grew more and more inaudible in Quinn's ears. He wanted to use this opportunity to get out of here with his friends. But too bad his consciousness had other plans.
His phone's screen lit up right then. It displayed a countdown:
"00:04:59 left"
'What's going on?'
… The sharp scent of gasoline soon covered the entire hall. And the liquid was being poured on the floor and walls by their 'crazy' science teacher.
This man had quite a story in the school that got him dismissed. Too cruel to even talk about.
He was shabbily dressed, just as one would expect. Rough hair and pale skin.
Strong started approaching him. And yelled,
"Hey, mister! What the hell are you doing?!"
Getting closer, he extended his hand to grab the teacher's shoulder.
The same man saw him from the corner of his eye. His expression was cold. Almost detached. And there was a visible black crack on the side of his face.
He mumbled,
"Kill. Kill. Kill."
In a matter of seconds, he dropped the gasoline container. And pointed directly at the guy's approaching arm.
Mysteriously, a dark beam of light shot out from his finger. It pierced straight through Strong's arm joint. In a blink of an eye, his arm was gone.
Blood splashed on the floor.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" The other friends screamed. Then sprinted towards the exit door, escaping.
Strong stepped away from the teacher in fear. Eyes widened. Lips parted.
'Did… my arm just got cut?'
The man finished things with another beam to the heart. Strong's inner mangled organs were visible seconds later when he had fallen dead.
Oh boy… he didn't even stand a chance.
Consequently, the teacher opened his lighter. A slight smile tugged his lips as he looked back at Quinn. Then he dropped the lighter.
He stepped through the fire afterwards, yet unscathed.
In the heart of the blaze, death came quietly. Or so Quinn thought…
The fire crackled.
It burned.
Roared…
"Let's get outta here!"