I walked into the gymnasium, the smell of stale sweat and designer body spray practically choking me. Figures. Even the damn deodorant here was a show-off. I shut it out. Years of living with Jake's ashtray-for-a-mouth had prepped me for this.
Grunts and shouts replaced the usual pre-class chatter, amplifying the knot of anxiety in my gut. PE, my own personal hell. The one class where I couldn't let my guard down. All in the name of Gotham Academy's "holistic education" bullshit — or so they claimed in their flowery brochure. One wrong move, and the carefully constructed façade I'd built over the years would crumble like a house of cards.
As the class began, I huddled in the back, hoping to blend in with the sea of students. The coach's voice boomed over the racket, announcing each name like a harbinger of doom. My gut clenched when I saw the thick rope hanging from the ceiling. Yeah, that was definitely a big no-no for me, I'd have to sit this one out. No way was I risking ripping the whole thing off the ceiling. The mental image alone made my skin crawl. I started discretely edging towards the door.
"Come on, Kent!" Tyler's arrogant voice cut through the air, slashing my escape plan to shreds. I froze, my eyes locking with his smug gaze.
"What's the matter? Can't handle a little exercise?" Tyler's tone oozed superiority, as if he was speaking to a lower life form.
I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing the urge to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. "Sorry, Tyler, I've evolved past the need to climb everything I see. But hey, who am I to stop you. Have fun swinging around like a chimp."
Tyler's icy eyes darkened. "Evolved, huh? More like evolved into a pussy," he spat back.
My jaw clenched tight but I mustered a dismissive smile. "Whatever, Tyler…"
Before I could sidestep him, he planted a hand on my torso, trying to block my path. I shot a glance at his hand, then met his eyes with furrowed brows. Seriously? It took everything I had not to bulldoze through him like a tank. But I held myself back, aware of the consequences even flicking his hand could bring.
"Don't worry, Kent. You can run now. But you're gonna have to climb that rope someday." He took a step closer, his expensive cologne assaulting my senses. "And when you do, I'll be the one laughing as you scream like a bitch, Rat." Tyler's condescending stare scanned me from head to toe, his lips curving into a sneer as he took in my tattered sneakers.
My muscles tensed involuntarily. Keep it together. I bit my tongue, swallowing a retort when the coach barked, "Enough chit-chat, boys! Kent, you're up!"
Cold tendrils of tension wrapped around my heart. No. Absolutely not. Fifty-fifty chance I'd blow my cover wide open. I threw a quick glance at the rope, then a desperate look at the coach, but he just jerked a thumb at it.
Tyler chuckled, close enough to whisper, "Guess it's time to prove your 'evolution'."
I shot him a glare that could melt steel. The gym buzzed with hushed whispers, and I could feel eyes drilling into me like lasers. I needed an out. I hesitated, then faked a look of annoyance and turned to the coach.
"Hey, Coach," I grinned trying to appear nonchalant. "Think I left my water bottle in the locker room. Mind if I grab it real quick, before my turn?"
The coach squinted at me, then sighed. "Alright, make it quick, Kent. We've got a schedule here."
I spun on my heels, heading for the exit, the echoes of Tyler's laughter and the hyena cackles from his clique trailing behind me.
Air. I needed air. Away from the judging gazes, away from the never-ending crap. It wasn't just about that stupid rope; it was the monster inside, clawing at the walls. It was this anger, this frustration, all bottled up with no release valve. Each day just adding more fuel to a fire I could barely control. It was getting damn near impossible to keep a lid on things. I was a walking time bomb, ticking louder with every breath.
Disgust crawled under my skin. I despised that part of me, the one screaming for an outlet. But there was none. It was too much. Couldn't just hit the gym or punch a bag like the average Joe. I was stuck, wrestling with a monster too powerful to let loose. Yet this nagging voice wouldn't shut up. Reminding me I couldn't keep ignoring this side of myself forever. Urging me to find that outlet. Before someone got hurt.
I barged into the locker room, still riding the wave of anger from Tyler's taunts. Screw the water bottle; No way in hell was I venturing back in there. Not unless I fancied a game of rope-climbing roulette. My locker rattled as I yanked it open, reaching for my bag. Fingers fumbling, I went for the zipper. The damn thing resisted. My patience snapped, and with one final yank, the zipper surrendered—only, it did so by snapping clean off, the fabric holding it ripping at the seams.
I stared at the broken zipper in my hand, heart hammering in my chest. You've gotta be fucking kidding me. As if I could afford a new bag.
With a growl of frustration, I swung my bag up, freeing it from the locker. A god-awful screech, like nails on a chalkboard, tore through the air.
My eyes flew open, landing on my other hand, the one braced against the locker door. A dent. Another fucking dent. Like a middle finger from the universe.
I ran my hands over the crumpled metal, letting out a few choice words. This world wasn't made for me. Everything here was so damn breakable. I pressed, trying to smooth out the damage. The metal reluctantly yielded, reshaping itself under my touch. It wasn't perfect, but it shouldn't be too visible.
Finally outside the gym, I needed a breather from all the tension. Inhaling deeply, the fresh air did wonders to shake off the tightness in my chest. The warmth of the sun on my skin felt invigorating, each ray injecting me with renewed energy. I spotted an ancient oak tree nearby and leaned against its bark, letting the rustling leaves above drown out the noise in my head. I reached in my hoodie pocket for my metal elephant, giving it a good squeeze. Playing with its cold surface never failed to ground me.
Sadly, the peace was short-lived as I heard the sound of footsteps approaching me. I looked up and saw Helena's brother standing there, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Just what I fucking needed.
"Kent," he said, his voice cold and sharp. I rose to my full height, towering over him.
"Wayne," I shot back, mirroring his tone.
"What's your deal with Helena?" he asked, cutting to the chase.
"My deal?" I repeated, perplexed. "There's no deal, Damian. We're friends, nothing scandalous about that."
He let out a derisive snort. "Spare me the innocent act, Kent. I know your type."
"My type?" Heat rose under my skin. "The fuck are you talking about, Wayne?"
"You know damn well what I mean," he spat back. "You better stay away from her, if you know what's good for you."
My anger rose once more, I clenched my jaw as I met his glare with my own. "I don't respond well to threats, Wayne," I drawled, my voice icy. "Your sister can make her own choices."
Damian's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might confront me. But then he seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel, storming off with a parting "tsk".
The nerve of that little… I watched him go, a knot of unease twisting in my gut. What the hell was his problem anyway? Was he just being overprotective, or was there some deeper family drama I wasn't privy to? I rubbed my temples. The more I pondered, the more my head spun with questions.
I knew Helena's family was one big tangled mess. Her father being a wealthy socialite meant they were constantly in the public eye. Drama and attention seemed inevitable. But despite all that, Helena remained kind and genuine, a rare find among the privileged offspring of Gotham's elite. It seemed like we were building something, a connection, one that finally felt... right. And I wasn't about to let some wannabe edgelord billionaire brat take that away from me. The mere thought of losing my relationship with her because of Damian of all people sickened me.
I leaned back against the tree, exhaling softly. The chaotic scene at the convenience store that had brought Helena into my life flickered through my mind.
Back then, I was fishing around in my pocket for some spare change, hoping to find enough for something to shut my stomach up. I was reaching for the bag of chips that would constitute my lunch when I picked up on a struggle of sorts from the next aisle over.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked through a row of soup cans to see two of the skinniest guys I'd ever seen wrestle over a candy bar and a can of soda, one of them waving around a knife thicker than his forearm.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, torn between helping the unarmed guy, and staying the hell out of it. These were the kind of situations I actively avoided, the kind that could blow my cover sky high. This city never let you catch a damn break.
It just wasn't worth the trouble. About to retreat back to my chips when a sound reached my ears – the unmistakable tones of someone typing 9-1-1 on their phone. Good, it was being taken care of.
My relief however, quickly turned to horror as I heard a voice whisper, "He's got a gun... please hurry..." Straining my eyes through the dusty shelves, I spotted a disheveled woman clutching her phone to her ear. I squinted through the aisles, trying to discern what was happening, when the glint of metal caught my eye. A tall and lanky man strode in holding a pistol. "Double fuck."
"Everyone on the floor, now!"
My blood ran cold, my whole body going rigid as one single thought remained. I had to do something, I was the only one who could stop this psycho without getting hurt. But with all these people around... what if I messed up? One small mistake, one accidental squeeze, and I risked crushing the guy's arm like it was nothing. Showing the monster that hid beneath my skin, exposing it for everyone to see. Or worse, he'd pull the trigger and hurt someone.
The man's gaze swept through the store, searching for anyone foolish enough to defy him. I was frantically searching for a solution but my mind was blank. Until screams started to pierce the air.
That did it. My feet moved without permission, carrying me towards the counter. The mugger was practically shoving the cashier's face into the register. "Open it! Now!" She looked like she was about to faint. The other customers were cowering behind the aisles.
Heat flooded my veins. Before my brain finished its risk assessment, I shoved the nearest shelf, sending an entire stack of beer bottles crashing to the floor. The mugger flinched, his gaze snapping towards the sudden commotion. "What the hell?!" he roared.
"Run!" the cashier's voice cracked. A wave of frantic movement surged as customers stampeded for the exit. The robber snarled, spittle flying as he spun back to the cashier, aiming the gun at her face. "Get back here! Nobody moves!" He yelled.
I couldn't just stand there and let him hurt her. Gritting my teeth, I shoved myself between the clerk and the gunman, using my body as a shield. "Look, man," My hands shot up in a placating gesture. "I think you better go," I said. "Cops are on their way. This isn't worth a life."
The mugger bared his teeth. "Get outta my way, or I swear..." he spat, trying to push me aside. When I didn't budge, he looked at me bewildered, his finger tightening on the trigger. A high-pitched scream rang out, startling him, and his finger jerked involuntarily.
BANG!
For a moment, time seemed to slow down. The sulfurous smell of gunpowder filled my nose. The bullet was racing straight towards me. My eyes widened in shock. I braced myself for the searing pain. The bullet ripped through the fabric of my hoodie with a sickening SNIKT. My hand flew to my shoulder, expecting a gaping wound. But there was…nothing. Just a ragged hole in the fabric. I looked down to see the bullet ricocheting off the floor. I stared at it, my mind struggling to catch up. The mugger's jaw slackened in disbelief, mirroring my own.
For a beat, neither of us moved. Then, he made a run for it, bolting towards the exit door, knocking over the display of candies. A woman standing by the exit shrieked as the mugger shoved her aside, snatching her purse in a single, brutal motion.
My feet felt glued to the ground. I knew I was pretty tough, but bullets?
Slowly, the other customers began to emerge from their hiding places, peering around the aisles. I scooped up the spent bullet from the floor. Just as I was slipping it into my pocket, the doorbell chimed again.
A blur of raven hair burst into the store, a young woman with eyes the fierce blue of an oncoming storm. Shouldn't she be running in the other way?
She scanned the scene with a frown, taking in the overturned shelves and the traumatized cashier being helped up by a customer.
"What the hell happened here?" she demanded, eyes finally landing on me, still rooted to the spot. I stared back at her, still stupidly holding my hand over my nonexistent injury.
She stomped two paces closer. "Hey, you," she snapped. "Aren't you in my Crim. class? What happened? I heard a gunshot."
I blinked, finally snapping out of my daze. "Uh, yeah," I stammered, voice hoarse. "Some guy came in here with a gun..." I trailed off, glancing at the cashier who was still visibly shaken.
She scanned me head to toe. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she said. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I… I think so. He… he tried to shoot me…" My brain still refused to process what had just happened. "But he missed."
"Whoa…" she breathed. "That's messed up. You definitely look like you could use a double espresso and a long lie-down. My treat, alright, uh…?"
"Clark," I replied, extending a hand. "And yeah, that sounds good." I offered a small grin.
She took my hand with a firm grip. "Helena."