The air was crisp and breezy. The campus wasn't buzzing with activity as it had been earlier in the day. Instead, it was nearly silent, with only a couple of students wandering about, likely heading back to their dorms or running some late-night errand.
It wasn't late enough for the campus to be completely deserted, but it was late enough for most people to have somewhere to be.
The breeze felt chilling in a way that seemed too unnatural, as if the cold were meant for me alone. But I knew that wasn't the case. It was my own mind and emotions making the world feel so frigid.
My fingers glided over the device in my pocket before I pulled it out, tracing the frame with a familiar ease that felt both utterly foreign and natural.
I took a deep breath, letting the cold air linger for a moment before leaning against a nearby wall near the dormitory. I slid down until I was nearly level with the ground, holding the small device between my hands as my mind settled into a cold detachment.
I didn't have to do this. There were many options I could take, routes and plans that could fix all of this. No collateral, no harm, no pain, everything tied up in a neat little bow.
But it would cost me. Parts and devices with price tags I'd never dare to pay, time that felt like it was slipping away, scrutiny that might fall like the blade of Damascus, so many options, but all those prices were ones I wasn't willing to pay.
So I chose the easy way.
The ruthless way.
Ultimately, the evil way.
The price I picked was my moral compass. I let out a laugh that bubbled up with an almost harsh edge.
Not quite hysterical, but filled with bitterness.
What moral compass did I really have? That price had been paid long ago; I just hated that I was this kind of person.
I plugged the monitor into a nearby outlet. I shifted the screen away from the nearby camera so only I could see what I was looking at. I wanted to be on camera; I needed an alibi. While I hoped this would be written off as an accident, I wasn't leaving it all to chance.
To the world, I looked like a teen watching a small TV with a bland smile, enjoying the night breeze and relaxing from the world around them. An ordinary sight on an ordinary night.
But as the screen came alive before me, the truth was far less harmless.
I was tapped into the building's power grid now, the screen displaying every power line, outlet, and power box in the structure.
I turned the knobs on the side of the display and selected the outlet in our shared dorm, the one still connected to a faulty PC. I turned another knob, and the outlet began to malfunction, bleeding electricity into the room in a nearly uncontrollable fashion.
It caused a fire.
I took another deep breath, letting the cold air filter out the thoughts of flames flickering in my mind.
This shouldn't work; the power grid should trip a breaker when an outlet goes out of control like this. It shouldn't work, but it did. Just like a seemingly ridiculous boxing glove arrow.
Devices that defied rationality to achieve their desired result, that's what a Tinker did, and I was starting to understand what that meant.
I was now officially an arsonist.
I didn't care if others were caught up in my plan to cover my tracks. Hell, I didn't even check if Phill was in our dorm. For all I knew, I might have just sentenced the boy to being nearly cooked by electric current and consumed by fire as the world burned around him.
I could have checked; it would've been easy. Just a few steps and maybe a tense conversation with a boy I didn't like being around. Yet, I didn't take such a simple action. Walking into that dorm and walking right out to huddle outside would've been odd, maybe even suspicious if someone looked deeper into it.
That wasn't a risk I was willing to take.
Besides, whether he was there or not didn't change my actions. I'd trigger this fire even if I knew for certain he was inside. It was better for my state of mind if there was uncertainty.
I pushed a button on the small monitor. It no longer displayed the power grid but a random show picked up from one of many satellite channels.
The sitcom played softly as I stared at it mindlessly, letting the soundtrack and lights further my act. Someone might ask what I was watching later if I was investigated, but I couldn't bring myself to pay attention.
My mind was too focused on my surroundings.
Besides, preparing that much bordered on paranoia. I'd done enough; if the plot unraveled, so be it. I could still thrive even if I was caught in the end.
It didn't take long for the results of my actions to show.
A wailing alarm rang throughout the air, breaking the quiet that had settled in the night.
Students poured out of the dorm with manic energy, fear burning in their veins. I looked up with a stunned, confused expression as I shifted my device to show the camera what I was watching.
I wasn't sure if my act was entirely convincing, but it didn't look too off to the average viewer. It wasn't like Sherlock Holmes was going to hunt down every clue.
I let the feigned confusion fade as I unplugged my gadget and walked briskly to the center square with the other gawking students.
I looked up and saw what I knew to be true.
Bright, flickering flames coated my dorm room, the yellow and orange light fanning out erratically as they poured from the window, trying to consume more material to feed themselves.
The fire seemed to light up the dark night, chasing away the chill it brought, but for me, that chill settled even deeper.
I looked on with cold detachment as I saw my work. The fire was heavy and spreading quickly, but for now, it seemed contained to my room.
A small bang sounded, and the window frame shook as the explosion sent a slight vibration. For a moment genuine confusion and shock ran through me. I hadn't expected that, but I remembered the collection of pressurized nitrous containers Phill had. I'd mostly forgotten about them, as they seemed minor compared to his other habits, but those bottles had probably exploded, wrecking the room further.
Lucky, that would reduce the faulty PC to broken bits, not quite slag, but unrecognizable.
"Fuck, FUCCCCCCCCK! MY SHIT!" I heard a familiar voice scream nearby. I looked over at Phill, who had arrived with a dazed-looking blonde clinging to him. She'd probably been holding onto him earlier but let go as near-apocalyptic rage poured off the rich kid.
I raised an eyebrow, not expecting this much anger over his random stuff going up in flames before recognition hit. He wasn't worried about the electronics or his limited-edition crap. He was upset that his stash had gone up in a blaze; hell, he might even be worried that it'd be found and his parents would catch wind of it.
Knowing what he was worried about, I let out a snort, which drew his attention.
Fuck, of course the one time I wanted to be unnoticed was the time I could not hold back my instinctive urge to mock a dickhead.
"Hey, fuckwit, what the hell did you do to our dorm!" he snarled, bounding toward me. I took a step back to avoid him. I might have powers now, but none of them would save me from a pummeling if he took his anger out on me. Not yet.
"I didn't do shit! I was outside when the fire started. I should be asking you what the fuck happened. You have all that crap in our dorm, maybe that started the fire!" I snarled back, nervous energy bleeding off me as I tried to push back with words to make him back off.
If it came to a fight, I wasn't going to roll over. I'd probably lose and lose badly, considering how frail I was, but giving in was never an option.
He didn't even pause to consider if my words were right. He probably didn't care if he was right; he just wanted to vent his aggression.
A punch was thrown quickly, connecting with my gut. For the second time today, the air was forcefully knocked out of me. I let out a pained wheeze before tackling him.
He wasn't expecting that, and I knocked him over, but soon another fist hit my side as he tried to force me off. I gripped the asshole and played dirty, biting his arm.
A better target would have been his neck but that was a far too fatal move, some damage could be excused as schoolyard ruffhousing but mawling Phill's neck would be far over that line. Hell, just biting in general was pushing it.
Blood filled my mouth, the hot liquid making me gag for a moment. I was then violently forced off of him as he managed to shift me enough to kick me off of him.
I rolled back, feeling like my ribs were broken from the hit, a snarl on my blood-soaked lips. I got a glare in return from the prick as he snarled back.
"WHO THE FUCK BITES SOMEONE IN A FIGHT, FREAK? I KNEW YOU WERE A PSYCHO!" he shouted, moving to continue the fight before someone stepped between us, glaring.
"Enough! This is a school, and you two will behave like it!" the man bellowed. I recognized him as one of the security guards responsible for on-campus protection. I relaxed slightly, not wanting to deal with more pain right now.
I was already struggling to breathe without pain shooting through me.
Phill didn't take the interference well and almost tried to continue, but the guard's glare made him cool down.
Phill looked away, then back at me with red eyes filled with rage, clutching his bleeding arm.
"Good. Both of you, come with me to the infirmary to get patched up. You're not off the hook for the fight; there will be consequences, but we need to treat your injuries," the guard ordered sternly, gesturing for us to follow.
I stood up quickly, keeping the guard between me and Phill. He seemed almost amused for a moment but returned to his stone-faced expression.
"Now, I heard that was your dorm burning. Do you have any information to provide?" the guard grilled.
Phill opened his mouth to say something but looked away quickly. He wanted to blame me, but he didn't have anything to stand on yet.
Good. With a proper investigation, it would show it was Phill's computer that caused it. Even if that was the farthest thing from the truth.