One punk swung at Ethan's face, and the second his fist came flying, Ethan's left hand shot out and caught his wrist perfectly.
The guy felt like his wrist was caught in a vice grip, pain shooting through his arm. He screamed and his whole attack just collapsed.
At the same time.
Ethan's right leg whipped out like lightning, nailing another charging punk right in the gut!
Dude went flying backwards with a "WHOOSH," curled up like a shrimp, rolling on the ground clutching his stomach, looking like he was about to puke his organs out.
A third guy tried sneaking up from the side, fist already swinging, but Ethan moved like he had eyes in the back of his head—ducked low, then slammed a brutal elbow into the guy's ribs!
A sick THUD, followed by a scream that made everyone wince.
Ethan's movements were clean, brutal, efficient—zero wasted motion.
Every hit landed on joints, weak points, or vital spots, instantly taking people OUT of the fight.
He was like a wolf tearing through sheep, leaving chaos in his wake!
"HOLY SHIT!"
Jack stood there completely stunned, even forgetting he'd been pissed off two seconds ago.
He KNEW Ethan was strong—could beat him at arm wrestling easy—but THIS? This was some action movie shit!
Dude was fighting like Jason Bourne!
Less than a minute.
All five or six punks who'd been acting tough were on the ground—some curled up groaning, others rolling around in pain.
Only two were still standing, including Blondie, both looking pale as hell, frozen in place, too scared to move. They stared at Ethan like he was a damn demon.
"You... you fucking..."
Blondie pointed at Ethan, his finger literally shaking, voice cracking with fear he didn't even realize he was showing.
Ethan brushed off his hands like he'd just taken out the trash, eyes calmly sweeping over the moaning punks on the ground, finally landing on Blondie.
Blondie visibly trembled under that stare, then tried to sound tough:
"You... just WAIT! Don't you fucking leave! I'm calling backup!"
He fumbled for his phone.
Right then, police sirens wailed from somewhere close, getting louder.
Turned out some of the morning exercise folks had seen the brawl and called 911.
"COPS! RUN!"
The punks on the ground scrambled to get up and bolt.
The squad car screeched to a stop, and several officers jumped out, yelling:
"NOBODY MOVE! ON THE GROUND! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEADS!"
They took in the scene—punks rolling around on the ground, and two young guys just standing there: Ethan looking completely calm, and Jack still processing what the hell just happened.
Eventually.
Everyone involved got taken back to the nearest police station.
.....
In the interrogation room.
The cop in charge, looked at the two VERY different groups in front of him and frowned hard.
"Alright, talk. What happened? Why were you fighting?"
"Officer! THEY started it! They came at us first!"
Jack jumped in immediately, passionately explaining how the other guys tried to steal their field, started cursing, pushing and shoving, threw the first punch.
The punks argued that Ethan and Jack had hogged the field and refused to share, so they HAD to do something.
He was a seasoned cop. He listened quietly, eyes moving between Ethan and Jack, then lingering on the punks who were clearly avoiding eye contact and obviously "regulars" at this station.
The officer looked at Ethan:
"What's your name, son?"
"Ethan Miller."
"Ethan Miller?"
The old cop paused, like the name rang a bell.
A younger officer next to him suddenly remembered something and whispered:
"Sir, Ethan Miller... that's the state valedictorian from this year! He was on the news!"
"Oh! YOU'RE that kid!"
His whole demeanor shifted, his attitude getting noticeably friendlier, even smiling a bit:
"You're THE Ethan Miller? The one who scored 1580 on the SATs?"
"Yeah, that's me, sir."
Ethan nodded, staying respectful and cooperative.
The officer's expression showed both understanding and approval.
Looking at these street punks with their shifty eyes and bad reputations, he already knew exactly what went down.
These losers were notorious in the neighborhood—fighting, petty theft, constantly in and out of the station.
Then look at Ethan—clean-cut student, straight-A valedictorian!
Jack looked a bit rough with that intense tan and confused expression, but he was clearly also just a student.
"Alright, the situation's pretty clear."
He closed his notepad and said sternly to the punks:
"You guys AGAIN! How many times do we have to do this? Trying to steal their spot AND throwing the first punch? Really?"
He turned to Ethan and Jack, tone much softer:
"Ethan, you were acting in self-defense, although... um... your defensive abilities are... pretty advanced."
He glanced at the pathetic state of the punks on the ground, corner of his mouth twitching:
"But next time something like this happens, call the cops immediately instead of letting things escalate. You're free to go. Be careful out there."
Ethan and Jack quickly thanked him:
"Thank you, officer!"
The punks looked miserable as they got hauled away to be processed, faces screaming "this is bullshit."
They couldn't figure it out—just wanted to bully some students, how the hell did they pick a fight with the state VALEDICTORIAN? And got themselves ARRESTED for it!
.....
Walking out of the police station into blinding sunlight.
Jack let out a massive breath of relief, then slapped Ethan on the shoulder:
"DUDE! ETHAN! That was INSANE! The way you moved back there... like some movie shit! And then when the cops heard you were valedictorian, they were all smiles! That was SO satisfying! We got out of there like BOSSES!"
Ethan just smiled, didn't say anything.
"Alright, quit talking. I'm sweaty as hell, gotta get home and shower. Still gotta pick up my sister this afternoon!"
"Oh SHIT! Emily!"
Jack suddenly panicked like someone had stepped on his tail:
"Let's GO! We gotta MOVE! I can't let Emily see me looking like this!"
He looked down at his grimy shirt and super-dark tan, looking absolutely defeated.
...
2:50 PM.
Airport, arrivals area.
Ethan and Jack had both showered and changed into fresh t-shirts and shorts.
Jack had even carefully styled his hair, nervously watching the arrival information on the electronic board.
"2247 now arriving..." the announcement echoed.
Crowds started pouring out through the gates.
Ethan's eyes scanned the flood of people.
Soon, a tall figure with incredible presence came into view.
Emily Miller rolled a large suitcase behind her, walking with this effortless confidence.
She was wearing a sleeveless dark green crop top with matching high-waisted wide-leg pants—simple but fashionable, making her skin look even paler.
A delicate gold bracelet added some sophistication, and she had this trendy woven crossbody bag with letter patches. The whole look was fresh and eye-catching, radiating serious style.
Her long black hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her eyes had this calm, almost distant scholarly vibe to them.
Her features were flawless—even in the middle of the crowd, she stood out like a lighthouse, drawing looks from everyone around her.
Absolutely stunning.
That was Emily Miller.
There are 70 advance chapters ahead in my Patreon. If you are interested can check it out.
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