The dorm room is silent, save for the soft hum of the computer placed upon her desk, and the occasional tapping of buttons on the keyboard. The chair creaks as she sits back, and ponders what to type next.

Juliet glances at her phone when it buzzes, and picks it up to see who's texted her.

Dana – Hey, I got the staplers you're looking for. Will be waiting for you in lounge.

Watson smiled at the good news, and texted back.

Juliet – thx, will be there in five.

Some more tapping on the keyboard, then, a sigh of content. The exposé she's written was not the best work she's done, but it doesn't need to be. The material will do most of the talking, anyways: a summary of facts and a couple of scandalous pictures of Nathan getting intimate with peoples' unattended drinks can definitely speak a lot more than she could. In fact, she was pretty sure that she needed not to say anything—let the people come to their own conclusions, and that'll be enough. Proper journalism need not to explain the truth when the truth is self-evident.

Her printer whirrs to life, and the copies of her exposé are printed out. A swipe of her phone and dorm key and Juliet then steps out into the hall, ready to meet with Dana down on the first floor—

"So what's up, can a homie come up in yo' crib?"

Watson cocks an eyebrow at the two girls walking down the hall some paces ahead of her, having not noticed her step out.

"Leave me alone, Stella," Brooke tiredly grumbled, shuffling to her dorm, "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Oh don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful, bitch—maybe if you got rid of that ol' yee-yee ass attitude you got, you'd actually get some dudes in your bed!"

Juliet gawked in amusement as the banter rose to a crescendo, for Stella was not finished, "Mhmm—oh, better yet, maybe your crush'll finally call yo' dumb ass once he stops tripping over himself tryna get with that girl from the video you were watching, maybe then you'll actually have a chance with him, flossin' ass bitch~!"

"Wh—what?!" is all Brooke can say, even as Stella turned back and gave her the one-finger salute as she walked away. Brooke grumbled something fierce, and shuffled into her dorm, slamming the door shut.

With no words to impart, Juliet resumed her journey, chuckling to herself.

There's always some drama going on in this damn academy.

The reporter made her way down the two flights of steps, hearing some commotion as she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. It came from her right, and walking towards the noise brought her to a door that would lead into the lounge.

Watson made her way into the lounge, immediately spotting her circle of friends: there was Dana, then there was the cheerleader's boyfriend Trevor Yard, and another boy named Justin Williams gathered at a large round table in the middle of the room. Off to the side, near the couple of vending machines and some spare tables with chairs, were Chase's minions, Taylor Christensen and Courtney Wagner. They paid Juliet no mind as she made her way over to her group, taking a seat next to the auburnette, hearing the tail-end of some crazy story Justin was rambling about.

"…and then he goes for the tre-flip, but his foot gets caught on the board as he's jumping up, and it catches him right in the family jewels as he comes back down!"

Dana gasps, and turns quickly to Trevor, "Oh, my God—are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just a love-tap is all," he placates, "I wouldn't be here if I was actually hurt."

"That shit was pretty gnarly, though," Williams snickered, "Seemed like you got your pistachios cracked from what I saw. Glad you're still kickin'."

"Yeah, I'd like to see how you do those tre-flips of yours," Trevor snarked back, "Maybe then we can see how a real Tony Hawk wannabe does it."

Justin cackled at that, for he knew the way he does it would earn him a trip to the hospital if he dared; but his attention catches onto the newcomer approaching them—

"Hey now, check out Doc Holmes," Justin gives a great big smile once he notices her, "How's it hangin'?"

"I'm doing alright," Juliet sighs, "And you guys?"

"Good—Doing alright—So far, so good," they said.

I've been meaning to ask, Justin," the reporter inquired, "how's the family?"

"Same as always," came the sullen reply, "My grandpa on my Dad's side is still pissed at what Mom did, and won't give her any chance to come down for Thanksgiving. Mom's trying to make amends, but I don't blame my Dad for keeping her at arm's length. If I found out about that the way he did, I'd be torn up about it too."

"…how are you feeling, Justin?"

There was a long, tense silence. They saw the way he fidgeted with his hands, saw the subtle pang of hurt in his brow.

"…it's gonna hurt no matter what I do. Better to just get through it, than to be a shut-in."

Trevor nudges his shoulder in support, and he nods in appreciation.

"But enough about me," he turns to Juliet, and gives a rather cheeky smirk, "What's the plan, Doc?"

"We need to make this count, I'm expecting that we need to act quick and decisively before they can react," Watson laid out the copies of her hit-piece on the table, "We take these, and—"

There's a sudden tap on her arm, and the reporter looks to the person who interrupted her, "What?"

"Look," Dana nodded her head towards where she wasn't looking.

Juliet glanced over; Chase's minions were eyeing them suspiciously. They were received by equally confrontational glares from the group. Neither side said anything, choosing to communicate through pinched brows and pursed lips.

There is a collective silence. Eventually, Taylor tapped Courtney's arm, and motioned for the exit. The two girls gave one last parting glare, then stepped out of the lounge.

"…thanks for the heads up, D'."

"Don't mention it," Ward replied, "So, what were you saying?"

"Right, we take these papers and place them on billboards, signs, anywhere they could be noticed and read. We'll split up into teams of two, each of us will start at our respective dorms and end somewhere on Blackwell Main. We do it silently, and quickly. The sooner we get these up and spreading through the rest of the population, the harder it'll be for Nathan to counteract. Dana, you got the staplers?"

"Right here," she pulls from her backpack two staplers, swiped from the office supplies housed in the main building, "One for each of our teams."

"Nice, then that leaves one last thing," Watson made sure they were paying attention for this part, "When we're done distributing, all of you immediately head to the closest safe spot you can find. Ideally, this would be our dorms, but if you can find someplace safer, then go for it. Prescott's not going to take this sitting down."

"What about you? They know you're with the News Club, they'll suspect you first before anyone else," Trevor noted. Beside him, Justin nodded his head in agreement, "Yeah, Nathan'll sic his hounds on you if he knows you're the one behind it. That ain't conducive to your health, y'know."

"I'll be fine, Dana and I will stick together so we can cover each other's backs. Afterwards, if it gets really dangerous, I could head down to my place or Dana's if possible. Is that alright with you, D'?"

"You're always welcome at my place, Jules. My parents would definitely enjoy seeing you again," the auburnette confirmed.

"Then it's settled, let's stick it to that damn tyrant."

Their journey was uneventful. No hiccups, no interruptions—they stapled their quotas and moved without delay to their objectives.

This is too easy. Far too easy.

Juliet couldn't help but repeat this thought in her head as she walked up to the billboard situated near the entrance of Blackwell Main. Dana had the last few pages remaining, and they intended to plaster the whole board with them. Juliet knew that it was a bit rude to plaster over the other notes and events, but the message had to be made clear; no amount of intimidation was going to stop the truth.

There was a notable number of peers gathered at the benches in the front quad. All of which were speaking excitedly, but of what, Watson could not tell. She chose to pay no mind to it, and set about finishing her work.

"Alright, last one and then we head to your place," she readied the stapler, and took the pages offered to her by Dana to staple upon the board.

"…hey, Jules?"

"Hm?"

"Why not take up that offer from that lady at the diner, Ms. Joyce? I mean, I know it's a bit weird to take up an offer by someone you only just met, but it'd be perfect for you if you're trying to lay low once we're done."

"…I'd rather not," the reporter admitted, "I prefer being somewhere I'm familiar with, someplace I know for a certainty is safe. That's why I'd be with you and your family, I know that your Mom and Dad won't be trying to get on my good side because of some kind words."

"…excuse me?"

The reporter and the auburnette turned to this newcomer, a girl which they did not recognize, "Are you with the News Club?"

"…no, not really," Dana stumbled to say, "We were just told to put these up. Why do you ask?"

"It's been causing a helluva storm—figuratively speaking," the newcomer was teeming with sudden excitement, "The whole school's been up in arms about it! I was out for lunch with my friends down in the town, and when we came back up, there was this talk about how Prescott and his Vortex club are complicit in drugging people at those parties they host. Like, that's some serious crime if you ask me!"

"You got that right," Juliet agreed, "Nathan's probably taking advantage of the fact that he's got so much power to intimidate people from speaking out about it."

"Is there any way that I can help?" the girl inquired.

"Spread the message, make it so that everybody knows what's happening," Watson answered her. She gave a portion of the papers in her hand and offered them, "Here, pass these out to your friends, spread the word about what that crook is doing to fellow students!"

"Who's doing what?" another student was passing by, and overheard their conversation, "What's going on?"

"Read this, it'll tell you everything you need to know," the reporter handed out one of the copies to them, and the person soon turned to disappointment at what they read.

"They ought to have that bastard pay for this—taking advantage of people whilst they're partying with friends, that's just all kinds of wrong!"

"Yeah, I agree," another stranger added their opinion, "If the school is going to let this slide, then it's our job to demand they do something about it, on our terms! This school wouldn't exist if everyone decided to screw with their attendance record and deny them the funding they've been after this whole time."

"You know, I heard from someone that…"

Suddenly, the focus of discussion shifted onto them. Scores of people once gathered in their circles all across the front quad were quickly flocking to Dana and Juliet, as the latter was caught up in the moment of highlighting all the grievances made against them by the Prescott heir and his family.

"…remember that Blackwell's constitution had been amended last summer, whilst most of us were busy with family and friends, to allow the reappropriation of funds for the school's benefit in the sake of emergency. Principal Wells was more-than-happy to use this rule as justification when he confiscated the funds raised to help the poor and the homeless back in August! Now, I ask you all: do you think they won't do the same to us and our families, when things get bleak? Remember when there was a referendum over the summer, about whether the school should mandate that our tuition pay for the parties it hosts, and that in exchange we would be able to have free access to them, and not just Prescott's clique of bourgeoise rats—well, look how that has turned out!"

And Dana, who was the silent witness to this spectacle, took note of the fiery passion which Juliet delivered her speech, going so far as to stand on the top of the steps of Blackwell Main to address her audience, "How many times have you seen your mothers and fathers skip meals on your behalf to make ends meet? How many of you have to pay hundreds of dollars to be forced into a dorm when you could be at home, with your families?! How many of you have thought to yourselves that this is not right?!"

A chorus of concurring cheers echoed this burning sentiment, and Juliet continued, "I say, enough is enough! Might we dare to call ourselves people of the truth, for that is what we seek—truth in the face of lies and treachery! This administration has to answer for its crimes—!"

"Oh shit—Prescott!"

Heads turned, and tensions flared as Nathan and a handful of his jockeys approached the cluster of students. He said no words, but the glare in his eyes shone a deadly hatred for those who fell under his angry gaze. He came here not to give rebuttal nor persuade with words. His presence was a declaration of intent.

Most of the students gathered back away, and began to steer clear of the inevitable tussle. But some fellows—namely, the young men whose honor it was to safeguard their friends, stepped forth and formed an impromptu shield wall, their own message of intent made clear with their fists and their reciprocating glares. They would not be cowed into submission.

In the midst of this, Nathan caught sight of Juliet, standing there amidst the score of rebellious peasants, and he angled his path towards her as he stepped forwards.

"Disperse," he bellows, then points to her, "Hand her over to me, and you all will be left alone."

"Fuck off, Prescott!" the shield wall did not budge. Many people behind it were easily dissuaded, but found courage at the steadfastness of their brothers, "Nobody's gonna listen to you—Go back to where you came from!"

"Final warning," Prescott called. Nobody moved. His hand came up, and a signal was given.

His men formed a loose diamond formation with Nathan in the center. And however crude it may have been, it was certainly a practiced technique, for they advanced on the human wall and struck at its center like a boulder against a wooden gate, shattering the line and sending Juliet's protection into disarray. Immediately, a flurry of fists and shoes and screaming erupted from the flash point, and spread like wildfire through the gathering of students. Many fled, and many jumped into the brawl, teeming with the chance for violence.

Juliet, who believed herself to be safe behind the wall of her peers, was suddenly caught in the midst of the frenzy, the cries of men engaging each other in a savage melee eclipsed where she stood, frightened and terrified—

A pair of evil eyes are glaring at her from under a troubled brow. The row of grinning teeth made her freeze up with terror. The brass knuckles adorning his fists glimmer in the light, and she feels the terrible promise of death roll up her spine. His gait is swift, and he's upon her before she can think—

Dana catches him in a tackle from the side, and the two disappear in the sea of limbs and wailing. Fists meet fists, bringing sickening noises of flesh and bone being tussled and tossed and beaten. Madness made manifest!

"N-No—!" Juliet snaps from the shock, and launches herself at them. She feels the adrenaline course through her veins, her hands are able to reach farther than she thinks they can, and the pressure of her knuckles against his cheek is barely noticeable. He pushes her away and she loses her balance, falling on her back and unable to stop him from capitalizing, she can see him ready his brass weapons to punch her skull in—

Dana clasps at his leg, and drags him down, trying to knock him out; he stops her with a retaliatory swing, and Juliet could hear the sickening crash of metal against Dana's cheek, the sudden motion of her head jerking from the impact made her cry out, "Dana!"

Somebody tackled Prescott, and they collapsed in a heap. She took her chance, rushing to her friend and inspecting the damage; a terrible sight it was. The auburnette was out cold, her cheek already swelling from the trauma and her nose was runny with blood.

"Dana! Dana, can you hear me?!"

"Break it up, break it up—!"

Watson looks up, and sees the brawl be carved in half by arriving security guards. Batons are swung at flailing limbs, and order is quickly restored.

"Get the fuck back!" security uniforms separate the opposing factions, the two sides resorting to shouting all manner of profanities at each other over the guards' commands, "Get back, all of you!"

"Please, I need help!" she calls, and one of the guards made his way over to her, "Please, my friend's hurt, I need—!"

The security guard's hand takes hold of her arm, and hauls her up, and she's instantly swearing, "What the fuck are you doing?! Stop—let go of me, she needs help! Dana—!"

The reporter is dragged up the steps and into the main building, kicking and screaming all the way.

The room is deadly silent. She can hear her heart drumming in her ears. Her hands grip tightly onto the armrests of the guest chair. Her eyes are focused on the scraps on her knees, scraps she doesn't remember receiving. The fight had taken its toll on her.

She glances up for the fourth time this minute, and sees that Principal Wells still hasn't taken his angry glare at the occupant sat next to her. Wells was always with a frown on his face, and very rarely did he smile. Yet this time, he was hateful, and his brow was furled into wrinkles at how enraged he was.

Nathan seemed hardly fazed by the death-glare being given to him. In fact, he was rather lax in his seat, the only thing betraying his calm disposition was the nasty gash just above his right eye. His hands are laid in his lap, and are bereft of the metal instruments he wielded. She wonders if he had planned for this.

A security guard enters the office, and moves over to Wells' side. The guard speaks privately to the Head of Blackwell; once he nods in confirmation, the guard turns and leaves them.

"…it has come to my attention," the principal starts, his voice low and grim, "that one of you is responsible for the injuries of some ten-or-more students in the front quad."

Juliet dared to speak up—

"It was her."

"What?!" she rounded on the grinning tyrant, "As if! Last I checked, I wasn't the one trying to pick a fight with others, walking around with my gang of henchmen!"

"You've spent the past few hours slandering my name—"

"You punched my friend in the face!" Watson shouted over him, "You and your hounds wanted blood the second you walked into the quad, and we both fucking know it!"

"You put up those damn flyers or whatever-the-fuck making me out to be some kind of monster," he snarled, "You started spreading rumors about me drugging people, and you thought I was supposed to just sit back and let a fucking mob of people lock me inside my dorm? You picked this fight, you wanted me to show up! I simply tried to talk with you, but then shit got out-of-hand because of your words!"

"Oh, for the love of—that's enough, both of you—!"

"The reason that so many people are wounded is because of Nathan and his hounds, sir! I saw it with my own eyes, they charged into the crowd and began swinging on people! Nathan had brass knuckles on him, and he wanted to kill me with them!"

"Bull-fucking-shit," Prescott barbed, but Watson would not give him any respite, "I saw them on your hands, asshole! You're the reason why Dana's in the infirmary, and countless others, too!"

"I wasn't the one going around trying to incite people to riot on campus grounds," he bit back, "Trying to use your clout to make me look bad, using others to spread your lies and deceit—and you call me the evil one?" he cackles and points at her, "You're the one who should be apologizing to those poor kids for getting them hurt, not me. Maybe then, you'll realize the consequences of your actions reach farther than you expect."

She imagines the blood oozing from her friend's broken nose, the hurt as she lays in the infirmary bed. She realizes that he is right, if only by technicality. The mere thought of it brings her to a maddening rage.

"Fuck you," she's out of her seat and ready to have at him, consequences be damned. He's smiling at her, goading her despite not being prepared to meet her clenched fists—

"That is enough!"

A hand smacks on the wooden desk, silencing the feud. Juliet stops short. Wells silently glares her back into her seat, and she can do nothing but comply. Tension boils in this small office, as the two students send their regards to each other through varying expressions.

"Mr. Prescott, leave us and remain in my secretary's office outside. I will call you in afterwards to discuss your infractions against this school."

"Is that before or after you decide to expel this hatemonger?"

"Get out," the principal ordered.

Nathan smiled at him, "With pleasure."

He stood up and walked out without a fuss. Juliet glared at his retreating figure right up to when the door closed, and it was silent once again.

And she dared to make this count, "Principal Wells, sir, please listen to me—"

"I do not want to hear it, Ms. Watson," the man shut her down, leaning forwards in his chair, "As far as I am concerned, you are no-less responsible for the fight than Mr. Prescott is. Just because I've sent him away, does not mean I plan to take sides."

He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Juliet recognized it as one of the copies they were passing out.

"What is this, Ms. Watson?" he asked. It was loaded with intention, and she knew his mind was already made up.

"Truth and observations, sir."

"It is slander," he pointedly corrected, gesturing to the text, "You've really made out Mr. Prescott to be a comical villain, claiming he drugs people for fun. If even the slightest bit of this is true, then it would be cause for concern and I would follow through, but I've already deduced that this is a fabrication, a hit-piece as you journalists call it. I will not stand for this."

"But, sir, I—"

"If I find one more example of this," he spoke over her, "Then we'll be notifying your parents about your expulsion from this academy. I imagine that they will be most displeased to hear that their daughter's actions were the direct result of this potential expulsion, but such is the way it is. I have made it clear that no disparaging activity by this school's journalists and newspapers will be tolerated, and I intend to keep my promise. Is that understood?"

She was grinding her teeth, trying her best to not lash out. It hurt, because she knew words would not mean anything to him. She was doomed the second she was hauled into the office, and she cursed herself for not realizing until now.

"…yes, sir."

"Good," he stressed, then leaned back in his cushioned throne, "You may leave now, Ms. Watson."

She left. Nathan gave her a crooked smile as she passed through the secretary's office, and chuckled a parting farewell, "I'd be careful, if I were you. You never know what happens when the sun sets, and there's nobody around to help you."

She ignored him, and walked straight back to her dorm. She ignored the couple of Prescott's hounds glaring daggers at her as she made passed them by. She intentionally did not notice the whispers made by Victoria and her minions when she crossed through the threshold of the dorm building's entrance. She made sure to lock her own door, then tossed the key at her desk, accidentally knocking over the cup of pencils and pens on its surface. She ignored this too.

She sat down on her bed. Her hands brushed against the scratchy blanket. She stared aimlessly at the wall opposite of her. Time passed her by, but the reporter remained there, stuck in her head.