[CUT TO: EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD - DAY. QUINN FABRAY jumps and performs a cheerleading pose in the air.]
The sharp clap of sneakers on turf broke the air like a drumbeat. Quinn Fabray soared into the sky, executing a perfect toe-touch jump before landing in a flawless cheer pose. Her ponytail whipped behind her, catching sunlight as the rest of the squad clapped in sync.
Sue Sylvester barked orders with military precision, adjusting formations and timing down to the millisecond. "Again, with more teeth this time! We are cheerleaders, not trauma survivors!"
[CUT TO: INT. HALLWAY - DAY.]
Will Schuester stood before the school trophy case, eyes lingering on a dusty first-place award from the 1993 Show Choir Championships. His gaze shifted to a small plaque under the name Lillian Adler. It read: By its very definition, Glee is about opening yourself up to joy.
A faint, bittersweet smile ghosted across his lips.
[CUT TO: INT. CLASSROOM - DAY.]
Will stood at the front of his Spanish class, pointing at the whiteboard with half-hearted enthusiasm.
"¿Cómo está usted? Yo me llamo Guillermo."
The class repeated in a monotone chorus, clearly unenthusiastic.
"¿Qué lástima. Ojalá que se sienta mejor."
Again, they repeated, voices dull.
In the back row, Finn Hudson slouched with glazed eyes, tapping a pencil against his notebook and clearly not paying attention. Beside him, Elena sat with a slight frown, arms crossed, watching Will's lesson with obvious confusion. Her eyes narrowed with each phrase he rattled off in what was supposed to be Spanish.
"Is this... really how they teach languages here?" she muttered under her breath.
Santana, a row over, smirked. "Welcome to McKinley. Where the accent's fake and the grammar's worse."
Brittany leaned toward Elena and whispered helpfully, "Guillermo is Mr. Schue's Spanish name. But I think it's also a kind of cheese."
Elena blinked, her face a mask of blank confusion, but inside her head, the thought was sharp: I've done interrogations that made more sense than this.
[CUT TO: EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD - DAY.]
A male cheerleader launched into the air with a cheer pose, the entire squad nailing a flawless pyramid right behind him.
The energy was high. The expectations were higher.
McKinley High was alive with pressure, competition, and something just beneath the surface—something waiting to break free.
[CUT TO: INT. CHOIR ROOM - DAY. SANDY RYERSON and HANK SAUNDERS are singing "Where Is Love?" from Oliver! together. RACHEL BERRY is watching, upset.]
The room echoed with off-key harmonies as Sandy Ryerson and Hank Saunders warbled their way through "Where Is Love?" from Oliver! Rachel Berry stood in the corner, arms crossed, a pained expression frozen on her face. Her dreams of show choir greatness were slowly unraveling with every flat note.

[CUT TO: INT. TEACHERS LOUNGE - DAY. WILL and KEN TANAKA are standing around a coffee maker without a coffee pot.]
Will Schuester stood beside Ken Tanaka near the now-empty coffee station. The absence of the pot loomed like a personal betrayal.
"Where's the coffee pot?" Will asked, rubbing his temples.
"Figgins got rid of it. Budget cuts," Ken replied, sighing. "You know, I know for a fact that they are still getting hot java at Carver. We should strike."
The lounge door swung open, and in walked Sue Sylvester, armed with a tray of coffee drinks like a caffeinated Santa Claus.
"Hello, boys. Who needs a pick-me-up?" Sue said.
"Wow, lattes!" Ken lit up.
"Yeah, I'm a bit of a coffee snob," Sue said coolly. "Now, the key to a perfect latte is in the temperature of the steamed milk. I like mine scalding."
Emma Pillsbury appeared in the doorway just in time to catch the tail end of Sue's explanation.
"Hi, Emma," Ken said, straightening up.
Emma smiled politely. "Hey, Ken. Will, hi."
"Hey," Will replied, smiling.
"What's with all the lattes?" Emma asked.
Sue gave a fake humble shrug. "Oh, Emma, I just felt so awful that Figgins cut the coffee budget to pay for a nutritionist for the Cheerios."
Emma arched a brow. "Yeah, I heard you guys went, like, $600 over budget on that."
Sue didn't miss a beat. "My performers didn't get on Fox Sports Net last year because they ate at Bacon Junction."
Emma crossed her arms, her tone incredulous. "Since when are cheerleaders performers? I talked to the new girl—she said she was already recruited into the Cheerios. Color me shocked."
Sue leaned in, voice low and dangerous. "Your resentment is delicious. My newest cheerleader's the real deal, by the way. Flexible, fearless, and zero tolerance for nonsense. I think I'm in love. Well, I have a phoner in a couple of minutes. It's an interview on the telephone with a major media outlet. I'll probably do it on my iPhone. Enjoy."
She swept out dramatically. Will and Ken stared after her.
"Thanks a lot, Sue," Will muttered.
Ken crossed to sit beside Emma. "I missed you at the singles mixer last weekend."
Emma gave an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I know. Big pipe exploded in my building. It was wild. I hate those mixer things though. I mean, it's like a big meat market. It's just, ugh. I did give my number to a fireman though. But he hasn't called."
"You know what, there's someone out there for everyone," Will said, reassuring. "I wouldn't even sweat it."
Emma tilted her head. "Hey, did you hear that Sandy Ryerson got fired?"
Will looked up in surprise. "Really? Well, who's going to take over Glee Club?"
"Don't know," Emma said.
Elena passed by the lounge outside, a brown paper bag of cafeteria snacks in hand. She glanced through the glass, pausing for just a second to watch the conversation before continuing down the hall. Everything in this school—from weird teachers to catty politics—was like watching a sitcom on live TV. But she wasn't here to laugh. She was here to survive.
[CUT TO: EXT. BLEACHERS - LUNCHTIME]
Lunchtime. Elena sat alone under the bleachers, picking at fries she didn't want. She didn't need to eat often—her body burned clean, efficient. Still, she'd gotten better about eating regularly since Val helped her after she escaped the Red Room and HYDRA. It was part of Valentina's orders—act normal, stay nourished, blend in, don't kill people.
"There you are."
Elena looked up to see Quinn, Santana, and Brittany again.
"Come on, you can't be sitting here like some transfer hobo," Santana said with mock offense.
"I have a three-bedroom loft downtown with smart locks and blackout windows," Elena replied casually.
"Oh." Brittany sat beside her. "That's nice. I live with my cat Lord Tubbington. He sometimes joins cults."
"You're... interesting," Elena said, and she meant it.
"We're taking you to the quad," Quinn said. "You need a tour from the best. And also, everyone needs to see you with us. Sets the tone."
"The tone?"
"That you're not to be messed with," Santana said, leaning in. "Unless you want to be."
Elena smirked slightly. "I can handle myself."
"We figured that out after your welcome fight in the parking lot. You know, when you flipped Azimio over your shoulder."
[FLASHBACK TO: INT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT – FIRST DAY]
It was Elena's first day. She'd barely stepped onto school grounds when a large jock—Azimio—blocked her path, smirking, one hand reaching out toward her waist.
"Hey there, new girl. Lemme help you find your locker," he drawled.
Without hesitation, Elena shifted her weight, grabbed his wrist, and pivoted. Her movement was a blur—a perfectly executed judo throw. Azimio went airborne and landed flat on his back with a heavy thud that echoed through the lot.
Gasps erupted. Someone dropped a drink. Puck shouted, "Damn!"
Elena calmly adjusted her jacket, stepped over the groaning linebacker, and continued walking like nothing happened.
[END FLASHBACK]
"He tried to grope me."
"Good," Santana grinned. "You're officially my favorite."
Quinn nudged Elena's tray. "Eat faster. Then locker room. We're fitting you. You're gonna look hot in red and white."
"I always look hot," Elena said, standing.
Brittany practically bounced. "I like her. Can we keep her?"
"If she doesn't run away screaming, sure," Santana teased.
"Tempting offer," Elena said under her breath. "Most people usually run from me screaming or begging for their lives, so... this is new."
Santana, still nearby, raised an eyebrow and looked Elena up and down. "You don't look that scary to me," she said with a smirk, before turning back to join the others. But as she walked away, her smirk faded slightly. There was something about Elena—her voice, maybe? Or the shape of her mouth. Santana's brow furrowed, the thought drifting like smoke just out of reach. Familiar. Why did she feel familiar?
The locker room was a blur of hairspray, uniforms, and loud pop music. Elena stood as Coach Sylvester looked her up and down.
"You don't slouch like the rest of these rejects. Good. You're not built like a sack of marshmallows. Excellent. You might actually be useful."
Elena arched a brow. "Thanks?"
Sue turned to a random cheerleader. "Get her a uniform. Size zero. And none of that polyester crap."
Elena cleared her throat. "Also, Miss Pillsbury said I'm required to join Glee Club."
Sue froze, narrowing her eyes. "Glee Club? That glitter-soaked karaoke cult Figgins is still trying to find someone to run?"
Elena just shrugged. "Apparently I need to be more social and expressive. So yeah... it's mandatory."
Sue groaned. "Of course. Emma would pull this. I can see where she's coming from, sure—but don't tell her I said that. I'd rather choke on glitter."
Once she was alone, Elena pulled her shirt off and caught her reflection in the mirror. A jagged scar crossed her ribcage. Faint bruising from a sparring match last week shadowed her side. Burns marred her shoulder and lower back. Faded gunshot wounds peppered her torso. Thin, white knife scars crisscrossed her thighs and forearms. Whip marks, like lashings, curled around her hips and spine. These were not the marks of an ordinary teenager—they were the silent, permanent echoes of a life no child should have endured. With a subtle pulse of purple magic, Elena's skin shimmered briefly, the scars fading from view like they were never there—an illusion crafted so no one would ask the questions she didn't want to answer.
She exhaled slowly. Here she was, pretending to be a cheerleader. A student. A teenager.
But deep inside, she still felt the phantom weight of chains. Of injections. Of training rooms with blood on the walls.
And yet... a tiny part of her liked it. The chaos. The teasing. Even the stupid high school hierarchy.
Maybe she didn't have to run. Not yet.
Outside, the bell rang. Elena changed back into her jeans, pulled on her shoes, tossed the red-and-white uniform over her shoulder, and walked out of the locker room with a smirk.
She had a role to play. And for the first time in years, she was curious to see what happened next.
Don't forget to comment and like!!! Thanks for reading!!