AN: This chapter is one of the longest so far! And it took a long time for me to write. While I'm usually quick, there were multiple blocks with getting through this one.

However, despite the first half being fairly light-hearted, this chapter may not be enjoyable for some readers as it can be triggering. It may be confronting for people with autism and anxiety, and any concerns about this chapter must be addressed so that changes can be made or improvements to be made in the future.

Chapter 13

Even though I said that I felt alright, I suddenly felt a little down the second I left the G.U.N. HQ. I didn't know why, but the ruby suddenly went quiet for the next few minutes. Guess that it fell tired or crestfallen by then. Not helped that I still felt a little ashamed for thinking that I could be able to succeed to a good level and forgetting what I was told about being strong.

As I was assigned to a different squadron, I found myself feeling detached as if I wasn't in the right mood to work along. I would eventually listen along and try to help, but there was this sense that I should just listen to September to take the whole day off. It was a bit hard to explain, but I…felt reluctant to help after my failure.

I kept it to myself, telling myself that this was what I want. Maybe helping out with this team might make me feel better instead of feeling bad about something personal. I didn't pay attention that much to where we were supposed to send resources to. When I slowly snapped out of my funk, I was confused about the place we arrived at.

A huge brick building that could take up the space of an entire village. And it was right in the city where a bunch of children was walking around. Both humans and animals. As it was already around lunchtime, they were all outside with these boxes of food while others played at the basketball courts.

I would have ignored it if it wasn't for the driver leading the truck to a nearby parking spot. One that would attract less attention. As soon as the truck came to a stop, the agents onboard already unbuckled their seatbelts and exited to the back, preparing to carry the supplies out.

"Erm…what is this about?" I asked.

The driver turned around, raising an eyebrow. "It's a school, jackal."

"A…school?" Wait, something didn't seem to make sense. "Why are we stopping by here?"

"We're transporting resources to those less fortunate in Central City, remember?" The driver cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed. "And I agreed to be there for my nephew on his 'Bring Your Parent' day."

"But why us?" I asked. "I thought that G.U.N. is more focused on other things than delivering supplies to places."

"It's not like we're not allowed to reach out to other facilities. This is for a good cause when services are unable to provide to certain facilities and organizations. Sometimes, it can be for charity. All the time, honor and support."

"But it would be easier that other services help them out. I-I mean…isn't it a bit intimidating for the kids that we are around? They seem to be living a good life and…"

The driver sighed, shaking his head. However, he paused for a moment and stared at me for a while.

"Agent Obsidian," said the driver. "Kids do look up to soldiers as their heroes. And the reason why we allowed you to come along here is that we are informed that you can be trusted. What you did isn't the appropriate model for kids to follow, but…" He shrugged. "I don't know. Proving to kids that an ex-convict has a heart would be pretty cool."

I raised an eye, skeptical of what he thought. Sure, I might have met Matthew's kids, but the majority of the children at this school look no more than 10 years old.

"OK, so you're self-aware," said the driver. "That's a good thing, I guess. But if we want your trust in providing supplies to these kids, then you have to accept and believe that this is your task. Us helping this school would mean a lot to them."

I didn't really have much to say about this, unsure if children would really look like military agents, soldiers and ex-convicts as heroes. The driver sighed once again before he climbed out of the truck.

"C'mon, sport," he said firmly. "We won't be productive if you hang back for too long."

Shrugging, I followed the rest of the agents, hopping out of the truck. I helped out with unloading the crates, but to my surprise, they felt a little light than I thought. Or at least to me since it didn't feel like carrying a box of weapons. To the point that I could be able to carry out two crates. Fortunately, they brought out these platform trolleys so that we could push in more crates easily.

I noticed by the way the agents were dressed, they were trying to appear as formal as they could be. Putting aside the bulletproof vests, they were wearing full blue camouflage uniforms with a cap on their head and badges pinned to their shirts. Only two seemed to stand out with one wearing a casual shirt and the other wearing orange sunglasses.

I looked down at what I was wearing. While still using my green bandanna, I was wearing the clothes I bought the other day. The moss green denim jacket and the pair of camouflage boots. It would look more like a typical army outfit if it wasn't for how casual and stylish they look. It made me look like a sore thumb from this group!

But I remember that Molly often wears her black dress and pink coat as part of her work outfit, so that would mean something about agents like me and her.

Nevertheless, as expected, it seemed to cause a lot of attention.

I swallowed as I started pushing down one trolley with another agent in front of me. As we entered the school ground, I became aware of how loud the kids were as they played around. A few of them stopped to watch us, but they nearly became silent when they saw me.

A complete stranger to this organization.

I remembered back to how the young people of this society indulged in violence and extreme things they wouldn't like to see. But this wasn't really a place where everyone dreamed to be a soldier or a mercenary. This here was more of a mix of different students with different lives. I didn't feel so confident anymore.

It felt like they were the ones who were weirded out.

Thankfully, the school building was mostly empty. Those who were just hanging around at their lockers barely paid attention to us. The agent in front of me offered a wave to some of the kids. They immediately waved back as if it was normal. I sighed in relief. At least there wasn't a crowd surrounding us.

"OOF!"

I found myself nearly falling, quickly using one hand before my face hit the floor. The same couldn't be said for one boy wearing a helmet who was lying on the ground next to the toppled crates. A skateboard awkwardly rolled by. I also heard my taser weapon falling out from my jacket, clattering on the floor.

"Hey!" called a voice from far away. "What did we say about skateboarding?!"

The helmet-wearing kid yelped and quickly got back up. He snatched his skateboard back and tried riding off. Only to crash into a door that just opened. He went back up on his feet and resigned to running, tripping a few times.

The agent in front of me huffed. "Kids. Always an annoying bunch at times."

"You think so?" I asked.

"Well, they can be reckless."

"I'm starting to see that," I said, picking up my taser weapon.

"Wait, why did you bring your weapon along?"

"In case of emergency!"

"We're not playing cops here. That would be too restrictive."

Picking up the crates that were pushed out from the trolley, I noticed one had its lid popped out. At first, I didn't bother taking a look inside, but just before I closed the lid, there seemed to be piles of…computers inside this?

"Wait, why are there electronic devices?" I asked.

"Oh, those are for the new kids hopping into secondary years!" said the agent. "Wait, did that skateboard boy break them when he ran into you?"

I checked inside the crate again. "Thankfully no."

"Oh good. These cost a lot."

"But why would kids need computers if they can buy these fancy gadgets of their own?"

"Some schools want children to learn how to use computers for work and writing essays," explained the agent. "It's an essential lesson for certain careers in the future."

"But I thought these electronic devices are mostly used to watch endless videos that don't have a real meaning and for their hunger for their endless entertainment."

The agent whistled, raising their eyebrows. "...when children DON'T use their computers for mucking around, they use them for work and writing essays as well."

"Does this happen a lot?"

"I heard a lot of stories. Some students get caught using their computers for searching up porn."

"...what's porn?"

"Moving on!"

I decided not to think about it. I don't think I want to know further about what kids would be doing on computers aside from work if that would be what people use them for. I didn't ask where we were supposed to carry the supplies, so I was just following the current agent accompanying me. Guess that the others had specific rooms where they should go.

I noted how homely the school hallways were. Aside from the long line of lockers (at least one or two had graffiti sprayed on them, but I didn't see it as a problem at first), there were nearly posters planted everywhere on the walls and doors. Some of them seemed to be promoting clubs or special activities going on. There was something about how the entire hallway was painted that looked a little cheap.

It felt like an in-between of a makeshift house hut and a flashy museum.

It made me think if this place was fortunate. It looked significantly better compared to the buildings I used to go to learn as a child. However, this school looked more like it was built without needing anything fancy to engage with a lot of people instead of a specific category. And it showed due to the variation of clothes students were wearing.

We arrived at what appeared to be a storage room. A staff worker was already there and the moment she saw us, she smiled in gratefulness. Taking a step back, I let the agent with me do most of the talking.

"Thank you for dropping by here!" she said. "This will help support our students here."

"It's nothing," said the agent, shaking her hand. "Another day in the office for you."

"Say, who's that new guy behind you? I have never seen him before."

I tried to stand up straight to look serious. I pretended to look at the pictures hanging from the wall, but my tail was wrapped around my legs as if defending myself. This felt really new to me. While I had moments, being in this place made me feel…shy?

I blushed a little in embarrassment. Why did I feel so nervous being around these people?

"That's Agent Obsidian," said the agent. "He just joined earlier to do community service."

"Ah!" said the staff worker politely. "So he must be a volunteer!"

The agent didn't mention that I was a former criminal, but it was for the best. At least not now was the best time to tell since it was my first time entering a school. Despite my wild appearance, the staff worker didn't mind. She appeared more curious about me.

As the two of them talked for a while, I heard a snicker from across the hallway. A couple of students, appearing to be teenagers, were eying me from their classroom. Aside from two humans, this group had a diversity of animals. Mostly dogs and cats. One of the dogs, a female, was right in front of them, her eyes narrowed.

My ears were clear enough to hear what they were saying.

"What kind of animal is he?" asked the lead female dog.

"Is he some sort of fox?" said a male human.

"I think he's a wolf," suggested a female cat.

"He looks so like Jessica," sneered a male dog. "How much fur is he growing?"

"I don't know, he looks a bit older."

"And he looks kind of cute," said the male human.

"Really?" snorted the lead female dog. "He looks strange as if he was a character from Indiana Jones." Then, her face turned red when she realized how long I was staring at them for. "Oh my gosh! I confessed again too early!"

They immediately went back into the classroom, giggling along the way. Some of them hung back a little as if still wanting to observe me. I just gave them a pointed deadpan stare that convinced them to leave.

I rolled my eyes. Why did this feel so familiar when up against rival mercenaries? Before when the Jackal Squad was formed, we often had competition with other kids. When I mean that, it translated to kids bragging that they were stronger than us. It was often Zero who got into fights with them if his temper was pressed on too many times. Namely, calling him and us names.

These kids in this school felt like they were more nit-picking than trying to be superior. They even seemed to have mixed reactions when they saw me. Why did it feel like they might act in the same way as bullies getting ready to take the upper hand on first impressions?

Cause they're idiots, a voice hissed to me. They just want to look cool to cover up the pain of their own failed dreams.

"Hey, Agent Obsidian," called the agent, already taking out a clipboard. "The others might need your help, so head back to the truck to see how many other crates we would need to take out. I'm gonna be checking a few things here."

My immediate response was to nod in agreement. But before I could turn on my heel, the lead female dog popped her head out from the door, just…gazing at me. One of the students peeked as well, giving her a judgy look. She rolled her eyes until she saw that I was looking at her back. Flustered, she hid again.

It reminded me that I would be walking alone through this school.

I shook my head. No matter. I could still take care of myself.

I pushed down any feelings of insecurity as I walked alone. The number of students walking around the hallways seemed to be increasing. I noticed that they were in their own groups. Like they had their own squads. A good chunk of them had members sharing similar features with each other as if connecting better. There was barely one student walking alone.

Well…

"You're not gonna get any ladies for this," said a female student. "Isn't this already outdated?"

"Oh, don't worry," said a male student, playing a video on his computer. "I prepared for this one!"

I nearly held onto my ears again when his computer blasted out loud music. However, it sounded a little chill and funky. The male student saw me and ran up to me.

"Hey there!" he said. "You want to see a cool dance?"

I didn't get to say 'no' when he began dancing in front of me. By swinging his arms from the back of their body to the front on each side. It looked more like he was thrusting his groin forwards and bringing it back. I slowly gave a deadpan glance at his friend who grinned sheepishly.

It didn't too long when a student from a classroom kicked the door and threw a book right at the computer.

"SHUT UP!" he yelled.

With the music turned off, he slammed the door. The male student in front of me gaped at where his hater came from.

"…that was a cool dance though," I said dismissively, walking away.

Even though I was supposed to head back outside, I ended up accidentally taking a turn and getting lost. It felt like forever as I walked through the school hallways. I started to notice that I might be lost as the lockers were soon replaced by glass displays on the walls. The place suddenly turned to appear unfamiliar to me when I got to see what was presented.

There were numerous paintings and pictures hanging on the walls, and trophies and art sculptures on the glass displays. These ones looked quite cheap and not too rich in quality. The trophies even looked like they were made more from plastic. Before when on the Jackal Squad, I remembered stealing expensive paintings and sculptures from local desert museums, but this area looked like it was trying really hard to be a good museum.

Who made these sculptures and pictures in this school hallway? It couldn't be painters who sell them here. Some of these paintings looked like it was made by children…well, that could be possible. Thinking about it, this would be interesting in teaching children how to create artwork.

The only thing I wonder was if they could amount to the higher-quality paintings and sculptures I've seen.

…sorry if I was being a little judgemental. This is STILL my first time in a school. And an environment where a lot of kids go around in this society.

I was about to turn on my heel when a double door nearby flung open and a few kids came out. Briefly, there was the loud noise of children laughing and talking over each other before the doors closed. All thoughts of wanting to head back out to help the other agents suddenly disappeared as my curiosity grew for what was behind those doors.

Peeking through the circular windows, I began questioning how many kids there were at this school.

The number of students in this room was nearly the same size as those who were playing outside near the basketball courts. It was some kind of food court except that there was only one available counter where they could collect food from. And there were nearly too many tables around, nearly cluttered to each other.

Like before, all the students were buddied up in groups. Though, it seemed that they were hesitant on letting anyone who didn't look similar to them take a free seat. A couple of groups would just glare at a student they weren't familiar with. The way they did so looked more like shooing a fly away in annoyance. Some students resided to sitting on the floor, trying to find space.

I wrinkled my nose at the sight of some students being isolated by others. This really looked like the playground where they kick out the ones they think were weak. Guess that these kids retained that mentality of who they wanted to be part of their squad. The only difference was how they seemed to act pettier than trying to appear superior.

And the 'weaklings' of the cafeteria looked as normal as they were, so excluding them felt…ridiculous.

It made me wonder how many people in the desert were thrown away just because they look 'weak'.

"Hey!" squeaked a small voice. "K-Knock it off!"

Only a couple of students heard this. Almost all of them looked scared when they turned to the source of the sound. I shouldn't feel surprised when they chose to remain seated, watching the event unfold. I tried looking around through the window. Was there an adult? Was there a supervisor watching? But it was just the kids and no staff worker in sight at the counter.

This was what led me to step into the cafeteria.

Once inside, I really got to see what was going on.

There were a group of older teenagers surrounding a young boy, pinning him against the wall. At first sight, I had no idea why they were harassing him. He didn't seem to have done anything wrong. What was really going on here?

"Let me make this really clear here," snarled the lead teenager. "When I get in that contest, no one can be able to stop me. And the idea of having someone like YOU win over me…is rather absurd. Or for anyone else indeed!"

"W-What?" said the young boy. "But…i-isn't it…meant to be for everyone? The principal…did say-?"

"Doesn't mean everyone here will accept it! You know that since not only in the way you act, you always seem to act like you don't even want a club of your own. So, it would be unfair that you hog up all the attention when you win, right?"

The smaller boy gulped, unable to have a comeback. It didn't help that what the bully said seemed to be a true fact.

"Come on, say it."

The boy was already trembling. It was at this point where he was trying to rise up from being timid, but hiding his anxiousness wasn't subtle. The way he struggled to keep eye contact meant a lot of how much he had to go through this.

"Oh, I forgot. You don't know what to really say, right, retard?"

Before he had a chance to explain, two teens suddenly pinned the young boy tightly to the wall to prevent his escape. The lead teen grinned. I caught a flash of his teeth and they looked normal. Too normal to cover up whatever displeasure he was showing off.

"L-Let go!" pleaded the young boy. "Please! Stop!"

"Oh, and who can really stop me?" growled the lead bully. "Who REALLY wants me to stop? One, you're too much of a wimp to be this year's champion!" He threw a punch in the boy's gut, grinning widely when he started to see tears. "And two, nobody WANTS to see a self-righteous retard like you running this show."

I scolded myself for standing there doing nothing earlier. I was just sitting back like the rest of the kids. If I didn't do anything, they might leave this boy in a bloody pulp! Without even thinking, my feet began walking on their own.

"Kids…" I said, finding my own voice. "What's going on?"

A couple of the students muttered quietly, but this barely swayed the bully's attention.

"If you're gonna keep ignoring those rules everyone needs to know," exclaimed the bully, his fingers near the boy's cheek. "Then you really deserve to be banned from. This! School!"

With every word emphasized, he pulled the boy's cheek closer to him, wanting him to listen. But at the last line, what he did next suddenly turned my vision red.

The boy barely reacted when the bully scratched his cheek. Three bright red scratch marks appeared on it. And after a while, the bully's hand moved away to motion slitting his throat.

Uncaring that his own fingernails were coated in the boy's blood.

Everything suddenly became slow as I broke into a run. I barely paid attention to anything, but the corners of the room turned red. Almost everyone was glitching, looking like holograms. But the group of bullies was coated in black as if they were corrupted images. The ruby hidden underneath my jacket suddenly SCREAMED in my head to stop. But I didn't care. I had my eyes on the bully and he should stay away from that kid.

Everything turned back to normal when my fist landed on the bully's cheek.

The bullies were nearly scattered, some trying to find a way to run away. Their leader was on the floor, slowly touching the spot where I punched him at. He flinched, but there was barely a growing bruise on him. It was as if I ended up giving him a push.

The newfound energy developed from my own anger left me shaking. My breathing was increasing, but not to a worse extent. I darted my eyes towards the young boy who could only stare back, surprised. I turned back to the lead bully, baring my teeth. Letting a growl escape through my lips, a wave of sick satisfaction waved over me.

I never felt THIS good for that long.

"...what's your freaking problem, man?!" yelled the lead bully.

"He doesn't need to remember all the 'rules' to prove that he belongs here," I said, keeping my growl to a minimum. I need to put some sense in that kid's head. "Didn't he try to point out that everyone can join this context you're talking about?"

The lead bully rolled his eyes, standing up. "Well, he did, but do you think we want a winner to be someone like him? We don't need more freaks to be representations of this school."

"And thus you treat them horribly just because of that?!" I said.

The lead bully groaned, puffing his chest. "Look, I don't need your advice from someone like you. Who are you to be self-righteous? I mean, isn't it obvious that YOU belong to the savages?"

There was a collective gasp, but it was more of a sharp type. This wouldn't be what you would say to any animal living here. I was taken aback, trying hard to think of a comeback. It didn't help that I felt that I was too out of place to fit in this society. And…he wasn't wrong. Who would ever see a jackal walking through a school with the right to call them out?

When I failed to say anything snappy, the lead bully continued.

"Aww, so I see," he said. "So you sympathize with the freak because YOU are one, retard. He doesn't even know how to speak properly. Are you two obsessed and don't listen to anything important to consider? Are you two expecting everyone to care about you? Or are you so prideful of yourself that you continue acting like a pompous know-it-all?" His smirk turned into a psychotic frown. "Here's a suggestion. Have you heard about going to a padded cell? It would be beneficial for your health. You look like the living embodiment of freaks like him!"

The students behind us were beginning to mutter. A few were watching in what appeared to be cruel amusement. However, the majority of them were outright shocked to hear this. They looked like they want to shrink into nothing.

I looked back at the small boy. He looked so ashamed that he was trying his best not to cry. But the way he held onto his mouth made it clear that it was hard for him to keep it in. He didn't notice the small blood dripping onto his hand.

This was wrong. This boy didn't look like a freak. Maybe it was in the way he act, but…why was this…place brutal as my birth town?

"This ISN'T about me," I growled, finally getting my mind straight. "Call me all you want, but you're picking on a defenseless kid. And you're suggesting that he gets locked away in a padded cell?! I have already seen worst people than all of you here locked in prison!"

"Oh please, it might teach retards a lesson to be smarter next time," sneered the lead bully, shaking a fist. "If they're just gonna keep ignoring, then what's the point in trying to get them to learn? At least I can give you this; you look like someone who can teach this boy to be a REAL man instead of being an entitled wimp!"

I gritted my teeth, coming forward to poke his chest. "At least I don't go running around wasting my time to be that kind of influence! That only brings the worst monsters and I'm warning you, you won't like what it'll do to YOU. Of course, you never know that with your perfect privileges and vague fantasies. What will really happen if a kid will finally snaps after going through this kind of world?! Maybe there IS something wrong with YOU that you should be locked up in a padded cell!

"At least I know better how to be around NORMAL people!" shouted the lead bully. "Have fun dying alone when no one is gonna believe you for all of your MANNERISMS, punk."

I was one step ready to bite him on the nose for such behavior, but then, an adult supervisor (finally) came back in. The group of bullies quickly acted 'naturally' and pulled their leader away. I huffed before turning to the adult supervisor as she came towards us.

And right behind her was the same female dog I saw earlier and the agent who partnered with me. And they didn't look happy.

"Agent Obsidian," said the agent, crossing their arms. "I thought I made it clear for you to get back to the others."

"And what are YOU doing here?" asked the female supervisor.

I sighed. "I stepped in when a group of teens are assaulting a young boy."

"What?" lied the lead bully. "No, I didn't! It was him! He scratched Mitchell!"

The students in the cafeteria gasped again. It could have been trying to act to save their own skin, but they were in disbelief that this bully would immediately blame me for this.

"Wait, no!" I said. "It wasn't me! I swear."

"Obsidian," said the agent lowly. "What did we say to you?"

"I don't even have blood dripping from my gloves!"

"But you have rather sharp claws," pointed out the female supervisor. "And your gloves are black."

I grunted, feeling resigned to my dilemma. "OK. Fine. Then check the other guy's fingernails. Make sure it's really SPOTLESS. You want proof? You can even take off my gloves to see if there is fresh blood on my hands. Go ahead. Be the wise guy here."

The female supervisor's eyes widened. She looked at the lead bully. He tried stepping away, but she got to him and forced him to lift up his hand. His fingernails were still red, blood already dripped into his nails.

"Figures," he groaned.

"Diego," said the female supervisor. "I thought you were in a clean state. Mitchell, what happened?"

The young boy, Mitchell didn't say anything. He only got up to his feet and collected his books that were dropped on the floor. The female dog got close to him and he immediately hid behind her.

The female supervisor sighed, but not out of exasperation. "Agent Obsidian? What's really the full story?"

"Those guys were trying to 'teach him a lesson' upon not wanting Mitchell to win in a contest," I grumbled.

Diego rolled his eyes. "Oh please! I'm just telling him to not flaunt being in the contest and as the 'future winner'-"

"Enough!" shouted the supervisor, keeping her glare on Diego. "Both of you, get yourself clean and stay away from each other before I do anything else. Diego, you may be sent to the detention hall after school. We will discuss this another time. Do I make myself clear?"

Eventually, Diego gave up and with a snap of his fingers, he led his group of bullies away.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He stopped to point at Mitchell. "This isn't over, retard. Do you hear me?!"

With a loud, dramatic huff, Diego left the cafeteria. At this point, I noticed that a lot of students were staring at me. A few of them continued their business, but it was clear that they were shaken by what they had to see. The ones who remained staring had sparkles in their eyes as if I did something…'incredible'. However, knowing what the other agents of my team were going to say about this, I felt completely ashamed.

My anger fizzled out like a kettle as I turned to the agent behind me.

"I-I'm so sorry," I said. "I got lost, I found this and…I just thought that I should…"

The agent's expression softened. "Agent Obsidian. I'm disappointed that you didn't continue your task. I'll say that I admire you trying to help, but you don't need to take it out like this."

I looked away. "...I thought…it was going too far. I thought they would continue if I don't do something…they did."

"Things can be unexpected with kids these days."

"Don't worry about it," said the female supervisor. "Mitchell will be alright-"

Before she could finish, Mitchell already ran off, heading for another exit.

I was torn on following him or not. I gave the agent an apologetic look before slowly following after Mitchell. They noticed this before calmly deciding to follow me. Guess that it wouldn't hurt to come over to see if the boy was alright.

However, the female dog who tagged along had other thoughts.

"Wait!" she called. "You don't-!"

"Hold on, Miss," said the female supervisor, placing a hand over her chest. "Let them try. Everyone here is free to talk to them."

"But, ma'am. They don't know the full context."

I didn't pay attention to her despite this. But as me and the agent accompanied me headed right through an empty school hallway, I could hear the female dog catching up with us.

"You two, there's something you don't understand," she said.

"I think I already understand enough," I said, my mind already focused on trying to find Mitchell.

"Hold on, I don't think it's a good idea to come close," said the female dog. "You might get yourself hurt going in like this."

"Don't patronize me," I growled.

"Wait," said the agent, grabbing my shoulder. "If there is something she knows, then it means she might know a bit about Mitchell."

"Do I really need to know?" I said. "Did you see how everyone acted in the cafeteria?! How do I know that she's not gonna play tricks?!"

"Because I know Mitchell as much as the teachers do!" shouted the female dog. "I mean, do you even know how difficult it might be to handle-?" She immediately closed her mouth. The way she did it was forced since she might have said something offensive. "Sorry. Sorry…I've…been doing more research lately, so this is still new to me…"

"Research on what?" I said.

The agent glanced at me. They appeared to be more understanding of what this girl was saying. They looked back at her, nodding in concern.

"Can you leave us two to talk?" asked the female dog. "I think…your new buddy needs to be informed."

The agent nodded and they left. It was just me and her. I was already so confused about what she meant.

"OK, so what's your gig?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"First, introductions?" asked the female dog. "I'm Caitlyn. You're 'Agent Obsidian'."

"Yeah, it's Obsidian," I muttered.

"Now, I apologize if I sounded ableist."

"Ableist? Wait, it doesn't really sound like that."

"Well, I was gonna say that it was difficult handling kids like Mitchell and was lost on whether I should call it a condition or just a label and…" Caitlyn stopped again. "...I shouldn't have said that. I confessed again too early."

"What? What 'condition' you're talking about?"

Caitlyn took a deep breath. "Well…I'm not gonna reveal or say the title of it, but it's actually common with people. You know, people with disabilities or conditions?"

I tried thinking about it. "I…don't think I really know that much about disabilities. I'm still new to this society."

"OK, so to explain, Mitchell is a little different. Not to say that he's not normal; he's special in his own way. I remember back when he first came to this school when he actually said in class his 'disability'. It was rather shocking of him to be this brave saying it out loud, but when I saw him trembling back in his seat, it made me wonder a bit more. I'm a part of the school council and I'm a volunteer for the school counselor due to studying psychology, so I did research on his disability and there were a lot of interesting facts."

I was slowly beginning to grow concerned. Was this a good thing or not?

"Just to note that everything I'll be saying is not fully accurate," clarified Caitlyn. "From my research and from what I'm allowed to see, this disability isn't troublesome. He's high-functioning and his parents actually said that they were unsure if the label of the disability is true due to how he is growing. The boy is really smart and able to see things no one else can." She hesitated to say the next words. "Later on, there were some…incidents I got worried about. Some of them weren't that bad, but it's equally worrying about his behavior."

I blinked, trying to grasp all of this. It was leaning into what I feared Mitchell might be and something I didn't want to believe.

"He barely made that many friends at school. He likes to keep to himself. That being said, while lonesome, he does try to talk with people. Sometimes, he appears scared to come close and he can get a bit excited talking about his favorite shoes and subjects; can be until he 'never stopped talking about them' that it diverted others away. Sometimes, he can get hyper-focused and ignore others around him. Even getting himself into trouble when he doesn't seem to listen properly." Caitlyn fidgeted her fingers, but she continued explaining. "He is able to understand other people through his observations, but his honest remarks can be blunt and lead others to feel offended. He has trouble expressing his words when wanting to say something and it might come out accidentally nasty to others."

"What?" I said.

"Lately, he seems to be leading into the negative things people call him. Ignoring the rules. Not communicating with others, even those who aren't mean. Being more direct and blunt with people, even if it might be hurtful. It's like he stops trying to mingle with the other kids. It's like he stops trying to care about anyone at all."

I gulped. "So with the bullies back there…"

"Mitchell got into a couple of fights with Diego before," explained Caitlyn. "Diego is often the trigger to this, but he is very easily triggered whenever Mitchell says something to him. I don't think I got the full story, but Diego always kept complaining that he was insulting him. The reason why he thinks he's a 'retard' is because of how slow Mitchell can be when expressing things clearly to him."

"That's why he made things personal about Mitchell joining this contest." I gritted my teeth, growling again. "And why he said Mitchell should go to a padded cell."

"I disagree with Diego," said Caitlyn. "When I first saw Mitchell, he was friendly and kind. He did try to follow rules. Even now, he does have trouble fitting in with the other kids and how they reacted to him. I…have no idea how I should approach him. I haven't learned everything and I'm unfit for being someone he can really trust. If he doesn't try to work on his behavior, then…he might be needed to another school or in 'special' counseling or worse…" She shook her head, looking really uncomfortable. "I know that he has a good heart, but I don't want him to be isolated due to something people think is 'not-normal'."

I didn't know why, but that last part sounded really too familiar. For some reason, I felt like…it also applied to me. But this time, it was more on the fear of not being 'normal' in this society for what I did in the past and for looking different. This was already a reality for Mitchell. Caitlyn seemed to put the message straight that Mitchell did and would want to try to improve, but…no one was willing to help him.

I swallowed, but my throat became really dry. It really hurt to think that there were people who were supposed to live equally in this city get taken down brutally just for acting 'unusual' and deciding to live up to bad behavior.

"I…never thought of that before," I muttered. "With people actually having trouble fitting in and…I never even thought there would be known conditions. Usually, out there, people are immediately labeled as 'psychos' for being…"

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. "You look strangely like one of the members of the infamous Jackal Squad. Are you one of them?"

I restrained myself from running away, my tail wrapped around my legs.

"Thought so. Well…that explains a lot. Don't worry, not everyone gets it at first or is able to diagnose anyone." She smiled. "I'm guessing that due to how you perceive the world, this brings in your own insight of things; you immediately stepped in and defended Mitchell on your belief that treating others negatively is a red flag."

"You're saying that…I might have a disability as well?" I asked nervously.

"Then it would take a long time to figure out. You might not even have a disability or a label of some kind. It's more likely due to your upbringing and you being you here."

That was surprisingly true. I sighed, making up my mind. If I do have a condition or not, I could still be able to reach out to Mitchell.

"Can you please let me see Mitchell?" I asked softly. "I know it might not be ideal, but someone needs to see him. And I understand everything you told me so far and I think I can understand him, so-"

"Sure," said Caitlyn.

"Really?"

"Given that you defended him, he's more likely to listen to you. It's the first time he saw you and probably the first time seeing a stranger helping him."

Caitlyn didn't hold me back and guided me to where we could find Mitchell. I actually had no idea where to look. I couldn't just sniff around for his scent. Fortunately, Caitlyn seemed to know where he might be likely at as she didn't keep looking around through the hall. Eventually, we stopped by a restroom that had a wheelchair symbol.

"...he probably thinks that no one ever uses this," muttered Caitlyn.

"Do you?" I asked.

The female dog looked away, suddenly lifting up her pants. She shook her head before coming forward to knock on the door. At first, there was no sound from inside. However, after a round of 10 knocks, Mitchell seemed to give in and we could hear him unlocking the knob. He only opened the door by a tiny bit, his eyes peeking through the gap shyly.

When he saw Caitlyn, he nearly closed the door. But when he saw me, he looked less tense.

"You're…doing alright, buddy?" I asked

Mitchell didn't answer. He kept shifting his eyes at me and Caitlyn.

"Do you…want to talk about this alone?" I asked.

He meekly nodded before gently grabbing my hand. His eyes were already pleading with me to come in. Like he wanted to say something to me without letting anyone else know. Caitlyn nodded, taking a step back. Without a second though, I slipped through the door and closed it behind me. I was nearly thinking of locking it, but I decided not to.

Mitchell didn't seem to notice as he wrapped his arms around me. However, he stepped back quickly. The way he suddenly broke out from his initial embrace told me that he was already having second thoughts about what he did. I didn't want to make the boy feel bad, so I knelt on one knee and opened my arms.

This convinced him that he was safe to give me a hug. It wasn't too tight, but his grip felt like he wanted to hold on as much as he could. His head nearly came close to my chest as if wanting to bury it in it. His breathing was really loud as if he couldn't cry out loud anymore. He just hung his mouth open, trying to vocalize anything.

Hearing him nearly this speechless made me feel sorrier for him. I had an idea, but I found myself unsure to do so. As gentle as I could be, I patted him on the head.

We remained like this for as long as Mitchell needed me to do. He eventually sank to the floor and sat close to me, curled up in a ball.

"I'm sorry for what those guys did to you," I said. "They're idiots. Don't listen to them."

"No, no, they're…they're right…" whispered Mitchell. "What's the point of joining the contest if there are other better 'winners'? Am I right?"

He was looking away, but I got a good look at his face despite the room being dark. From the slight light coming from the tiny gap from the door, I could see the red scratches on his face. He didn't bother to wash them, letting the blood drip and dry up on his skin. His eyes were bloodshot since he must have been crying for a long time.

"Well, I don't think it would matter who would be the winner," I said, sitting down next to him. "You said that the contest is for everyone, so…those bullies were being silly."

"No, I'm silly," whimpered Mitchell. "I can't believe that I thought that joining this stupid science contest would…get me some new friends. And it's already clear that no one wants me to be their 'representation' or…whatever!"

I sighed. "Hey, don't think like this. You'll do good. I mean, if the contest is your passion, then it might go well if you don't worry about what others or your competitors have to say about you?"

"Should I?" questioned Mitchell. "It feels like every time I try to do something right or something I'm comfortable with, I end up being the selfish one."

"And what makes you think of that?" I asked.

Mitchell directed his eyes to his shoes.

"You don't have to tell me now," I said gently. "But you can also be honest with me. It's just the two of us."

"...then…why would you even want to help me?" he asked.

The question on why so got me reluctant to speak further. However, I found myself being a bit like him. I swallowed once again and my throat was wet. Feeling that I could speak up again, I explained slowly.

"I just moved here a while ago," I said. "Where I come from, it's unlike this city. It feels so…lucky to even be able to stay here. Especially since how I was 'hired' to be a G.U.N agent would not be the way you think. When I saw what was going on, I didn't understand why those bullies were ganging up on you. I thought this school would be peaceful. This is as worse as squads picking out the weak except that the intentions are petty."

Mitchell tilted his head. "And where do you come from?"

"...the desert?"

"So you're like a desert bandit?"

"That's a nice way to say it."

"...well, good for you," muttered Mitchell, a bit intrigued. "What do you know about these kinds of things? And if they do exist in where you come from, would you find them normal to see? Wait, wouldn't it be cool to be like you? I mean, probably as a desert bandit, you wouldn't have to feel bad when it comes…to, I don't know, attacking jerks? Stealing stuff? Getting away with it all?"

A sense of deja vu ran through me. It was as if these kids in this society really had no idea of the real struggle. Just from what they know from popular media and benefit from it. This time, Mitchell seemed to see being a mercenary as a good thing. To solve problems. But…he didn't know of the real setting AND the real people I had to face before.

"Kid," I said firmly. "You…don't really want to know. Sure, these are some pretty accurate hallmarks. But…I gave up being a bandit of the desert. I lost my squad. And coming here…it told me a lot when it comes to living a good life. Not from stealing for your own benefit or assassinating people for your pleasure. It would…wrap you in a worse mindset."

"How bad could this mindset be?" asked Mitchell.

I growled to myself. "Bad as Diego's except that if he's a mercenary, he would be wanting to burn the world, forget about his teammates' deaths and get himself prepared to attach a damn ruby to his…" I paused, realizing how loud I might get. "Sorry. It's a really sore spot. I just…thought that having a life settled in this society would be stress-free."

"It's not really," stated Mitchell. "Especially when you are different. It's a good thing that YOU have a place that suits you best than needing to struggle through something you should get used to." He stopped to wipe new angry tears from his eyes. "I-I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. I…want to be something good for once. I want to try to be. But…why are all the simple actions of being good never work properly? I don't understand why no one believes that I can change to be more…normal. I can't even…"

I winced when he said this. He must be self-aware of this 'condition' he had and he hated it.

"I mean, what's the point? If being 'self-righteous' is the only way to get through this, then how can I just…be myself? And I hate that I feel ashamed of what I did. Those scoldings just never stop." His voice was beginning to crack. "Why is it so hard for me to get along with others better?"

I started to feel guilty for making him feel worse. However, seeing him breaking down made me wonder if this was the first time he opened up to anyone. Maybe he did to his parents, but never to someone not of his family.

I took a deep breath, making sure that I was collective as possible. "I know that it's not easy. And…I felt it too when I arrived here. I got scared that no one is gonna accept me for who I was. But…it's hard as well with wanting to fully act like someone else. I might have adapted to a few things, but there are a few things I don't think and won't understand. But in a way…I know that I'll be OK if I take the right choice." A sad smile slowly crept upon my muzzle. "Please listen; if I did otherwise, then I would never get to learn from the best people or how to not tire myself or…being here to help you and other people…"

"...and what about me?" asked Mitchell. "Like…what makes me good with being 'different'?"

"Maybe you can tell me that?" I said.

"What?"

"Answer my question."

Mitchell thought for a while. "...well, I succeed a lot in my classes. Sometimes, I miss out on all the instructions, but…I eventually find my way around to complete my homework."

"That's a good thing!" I said. "And that must be why you decided to join the contest since you must be super smart."

He nodded. "Though…would you say that getting too 'into the zone'...would be a bad thing?"

I had a thought about it. I remembered a couple of times when I drifted off upon seeing things that caught my attention. The memory of me touching a sharp javelin remained in my mind. Eventually, I motioned a 'so-so' gesture.

"Maybe a little," I said. "It's important to pay attention to other things, especially when in a conversation with other people. But…if this getting in the zone helps with being concentrated, maybe this will be helpful when needing to focus on…study or work? Like the passion to get something done."

Mitchell nodded. "...that's actually a good point. OK…I…tend to interpret too many things. A lot of thoughts go through my mind when people seem to get emotional. Like…leads me wondering all the kinds…of things rushing through their head. Though…it could be problematic when I want to point them out. Sometimes, I say it too direct or…I don't express it well."

"It's a good thing that you're…insightful," I pointed out. "Means that you have different ideas. Though, with expressing it, it would need to be thought through before saying it out loud like…if it's the right thing to say."

"It…takes a while for me to come up with a good response," sighed Mitchell. "I sometimes take too long to try thinking."

"Maybe some…practice on that can work with deciding quickly what to say? Wait…is that offensive to you?"

"I don't know about others, but to me, not really...I can try doing that. Like…getting ready to improvise without taking too long, right?"

"Ah, yes!" I said. I found myself feeling relieved that this talk didn't feel too intense. Mitchell seemed to have cooled down as well, no longer crying. "And…anything else?"

Mitchell frowned. "...well, it's nice having to talk with someone. I…I don't think I'm usually a good friend. I tried to, but sometimes, I found myself feeling a little…detached and not interested…is it that bad that people like me would…hurt people?"

"I think anyone can hurt anyone," I said. "It's not a specific category. Diego probably targets other students, right?"

"...yeah. I-I did see…though, I wasn't always sure and I didn't know how to help. It's…hard making up my mind if I want to or not."

"I think it would be best to listen to other people," I said. "You can still tell them about what you like, but give the others an opportunity to talk about their own interests. You're not gonna even miss out since you're talking with them. Everyone should share the spotlight since it feels good to be a part of something. Who knows? Maybe you might discover something from them you even like. It won't be easy to find…but it'll be worth it. Trust me. I had to accept the new people I met first before I could reach out to the help I would need."

Mitchell's face seemed to brighten up. "...OK. OK. And…should I still be honest?"

"Like I said, it depends on what you really want to point out if it's concerning," I said. "Would take time to find a way how to explain it in the right way. However, if it's on something you feel that is definitely wrong and if the enabler is really in the wrong, then it shouldn't hurt with being honest about it."

Mitchell hummed. "I noticed…though, I always struggle with…if I should say it or not. You say that with…this…learning all of this to be friends with others isn't easy… are there any shortcuts?"

I thought about it. "I don't think it'll ever be easy, especially when a lot must have happened. But keep holding out there to try. Doesn't mean that you should take everything about yourself for granted. Cause there are good things about you."

"But what about you? Do you have difficult things to face for being…well, yourself? I-I mean, I didn't mean it that way or-"

I chuckled. "It's alright, kid. I have my own challenges to worry about. Yet, through them, I can understand how you feel about yourself. Diego might be trying to sound smart, but he's wrong; you are a great kid, even aware of what's right and wrong. Maybe there were things you did wrong, but you being 'not normal' is not to blame and…perhaps not to keep using as a reason to put up a mean act since that would alienate yourself further from support. Take it with what you can learn and don't be afraid to try a few new things that can help you. Maybe someday, there'll be people to help you. Importantly, never lose sight of yourself, no matter how many people want to break you."

Mitchell stared at me for a long while, thinking through what I said. I wasn't sure if I did say the right words to him since it might not be enough or I repeated a few things. However, he appeared to become hopeful; he still looked nervous but determined to give it a try. He smiled brightly before resting his head on my lap.

"I-I'll give it a try," he whispered, trying his best not to cry again. "I promise."

I smiled, feeling proud of what I could do for this boy. My ruby glowed warmly, whispering to me in pride. Who knew that a former mercenary could be a great role model to a school student? I hoped that Mitchell would be able to find his way to make some new friends while still being himself. This would be a new angle for him to use to really get through the struggles with school.

He stood up, taking a deep breath. "I think…I'll call off my participation in the science contest."

"Wait, what?" I said. "But aren't you-?"

"No, I'm not gonna listen to what Diego told me. Besides…the science contest isn't really my thing. I can just join other contests. Maybe I should go and actually talk to the people who are supportive instead of trying to show off to everyone. That way, it would be…meaningful…making friends."

I raised an eye, surprised by this reason. "It's your choice. I won't stop you."

Mitchell smiled, opening the door. Caitlyn was waiting nearby, but she made sure to wait on the other side of the hallway to not hear our conversation. Surprisingly enough, Mitchell made his way to her.

"Hey, Caitlyn?" he asked. "Can I ask you for something?"

"Yes?" said Caitlyn.

Mitchell took a deep breath, taking the time to say the right words. "About your…offer a really long time ago. I…should have accepted it and instead, I alienated myself from you. I guessed that time I thought it might not work out or it didn't feel right for me. However…I'm thinking of giving it a try to talk with you and hang around with your social group. Can we start over?"

Caitlyn was surprised to hear this, touched. Her lips trembled as she rubbed her hands together. "Mitchell…I'm…I'm happy that you are taking this chance. But I have to apologize as well for staying away from you for long. I guess that because I didn't know everything, I felt that I was the wrong person you should talk to. And I tried waiting for someone else to help you. But nobody came because they were as scared as I am, even to the point where I wondered if they were right about you. So…maybe we can start over?"

Mitchell smiled. "Yeah, we can."

Now this was a sight to see. Caitlyn did tell me that she was aware of the label Mitchell had and thought of herself as unfit to guide him. Seeing Mitchell coming to her and Caitlyn eventually deciding to try helping him told me that this should be the right response to people who seemed to act differently. To really allow them to make attempts to truly turn around without seconding-guessing themselves.

Before I could speak again for one last word of encouragement, the lights suddenly went out.

AN: Yay, a cliffhanger. I think it might be predictable on who it might be.

Before I address the more serious parts, this chapter takes some inspiration from the movie 'Luca' and the show 'Baymax!' for inspiration on certain scenes. The kid who showed the 'cool dance' did the Floss; a move seen in the Sonic movies in which everyone probably got sick of seeing. A good part of this chapter is interesting since it's the first time Obsidian gets to see a well-supported and thriving school. I feel like there were some lines that I keep repeating. Let me know if that's the case.

So…this is a risky chapter that I'm writing; Mitchell is actually autistic. This isn't explicitly mentioned, but there are some noticeable traits other than Caitlyn's explanation about Mitchell's 'behavior'. And it's official; Obsidian is also autistic, even if he doesn't know completely, though I don't know how much I'll explore from there. Here, Caitlyn represents those who try to understand autism. While some of you may know from my other platforms and I mentioned being neurodivergent on my profile here, I wish not to reveal on this website since I want to find the right time with the right words. However, I know a lot about autism due to research and relations with autistic people.

Before I can sue myself, this is a topic I want to touch on in my stories. For a while, I've given my characters a few autistic traits, though never before do I focus on addressing them seriously. In fact, I was reluctant to talk about it, given the negative (and unfortunately reinforced) controversy of autistic users on the internet. I wrote another story for a university writing club anthology that addresses another character questioning his autism. Despite the feedback from peers, I hesitated to post it here since I'm worried it might not be a good representation of autistic people. Hell, I even tried posting a story that touched on autism which some of you may see it in the form of the now-discontinued 'Trolls – Voice of Rebels', but author's block hit me from continuing it.

Taking from my experiences and the friends I made, I put in everything to drive the message while trying not to be offensive. I know there are good writers out there, those with autism, and some will struggle with fitting in or finding the right words and actions to take. I want to tell the message that it's never too late to reach out. But I fear that this message might not be delivered in the way I want it to be. Something's really wrong. There's bias against autism, and I might be biased myself since I don't always think thoroughly. It scares me. Fuelling my reluctance to share is due to some users using autism as an excuse to be selfish and do nasty things to people. Yes, some don't realize their actions and they can learn from mistakes; that's normal and a good part of growing for all of us. But I cross the line when people are more than willing to use their condition to continue being unpleasant on purpose and never learn from mistakes.

I don't know the full story, but I get the feeling that this is what leads people hating autistic people. My thinking for this started last year when I met a person who doesn't have a high view of autism. I don't remember everything as he is already banned from this website, but I believe that he implied to think autistic people as retarded. Is this ableist belief one of the sole reasons for this hatred or is there more to my interpretations? Because of this black-and-white labelling, this definitely does not give a straightforward, honest chance for everyone to learn and grow. And here, I just write stories, not complete solutions. And because of I sometimes fall into the same mistakes I made in the past, I question if I'm fit enough to speak this out. I wish I have the right words for everyone, but I don't.

All that I explained here is reflected in the story of this chapter. I want you all to let me know in your reviews if this is an accurate portrayal of autism or if it's relatable to you. I need constructive criticism to improve on touching this subject; it would be very helpful in getting the representation right since sometimes, views are more important than facts. If I offend or trigger some people, I'm truly sorry and will try to bring a more comfortable and accurate portrayal of autism in the future. But if you're going to send hate comments about this chapter, then you're just going to reinforce this cycle of hate; if we really want to 'get over it' and feel safe, then we need to find common ground.

Until next time, keep on rocking.