Oliver's mind blanked.
'What?'
'Just for that?'
His heart hammered, confusion and terror colliding until he could barely breathe.
The gauntlets flared brighter, lighting Reed's furious expression in a harsh, electric glow. The energy trembled like it was ready to detonate.
'He's serious. He's really going to do it,' Oliver thought, dread freezing every part of him.
The gauntlets buzzed harder, the vibration moving straight through Oliver's body.
His breath caught in his throat, as his desperate gasp turned into a strangled choke.
Then, with a sickening rip, his neck tore open, a brutal, jagged line carving through flesh and muscle.
Blood surged out in a violent rush, splattering the ground as his pulse faltered.
His eyes, wide with shock, flickered once, then slowly shut as as his body jerked, then stilled—his final gasp barely a whisper before everything went silent.
The crimson blood pooled around him, vivid and warm, as his life slowly drained away.
Reed leaned closer as he growled, "Die!"
His fingers tightened around Oliver's neck, that made the metal hum.
He was just moments away from tearing Oliver's head off.
Suddenly... a heavy hand pressed down on Reed's shoulder, forcing him to his knees.
At the same time, the silver gauntlet that had been humming disappeared back into the folds of his clothes.
Reed snapped his head toward the source of that incredible pressure.
A woman stood behind him.
Her presence was sharp, commanding—her porcelain skin almost glowing under the harsh lights, her black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink.
She wore a navy blue uniform, which marked her identity as one of the teachers.
"Reed," she said, her voice low but vibrating with authority, "that's enough."
"You're only fifteen. No need to take things this far."
Her gaze moved across the students, those still standing.
"You can have your first kills," she shouted, her voice rising like thunder, "but not here."
"You're just graduating from high school."
"So, control yourselves," she commanded.
The students stiffened, some turning pale, others gripping their trembling hands behind their backs.
Her nose twitched and a hint of disgust touched her expression—the sight of organic, unprocessed fluids was a crude stain on the polished floor.
"Call the nurses," she ordered, not even looking to see who obeyed. "Now."
Her eyes hardened even further as she glared at the mess on the floor—the blood, the broken neck and Oliver's lifeless body.
She shouted, "Get this disgrace out of here."
...