Five years later.
The alley was narrow, damp, and shadowed in twilight. Blood dripped from Alias's brow, painting streaks down his cheek. His shirt was torn, knuckles bruised, breath ragged.
His legs stumbled, but he kept moving.
Behind him, a young girl—maybe twelve—trembled as she clutched her school bag.
"Sir, are you okay?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Alias didn't take his eyes off the group in front of him.
"I'm fine," he said, steadying his stance. "Just stay behind me."
Laughter echoed from the gang of four.
"Well, look at this guy," one of them sneered. "Still standing? Thought we'd beat the hero outta you."
"You should've just kept walking, punk," another spat. "Now you're gonna bleed for someone else's problem."
Alias growled, spitting blood from his mouth.
"Shut the hell up," he said, fists tightening. "Let's get this over with."
They charged.
Four on one.
The first came in swinging—Alias ducked and slammed a fist into his gut. Another grabbed him from behind, but Alias slammed his heel into the guy's foot and elbowed him off.
A fist caught Alias in the jaw. His vision blurred, but he roared and drove forward—punch after punch, refusing to fall.
Bodies hit the ground. One by one. Breathing hard, Alias stood above them all.
Blood dripping. Chest heaving. Hands shaking.
He turned back to the girl.
"You okay?"
She nodded, eyes wide. "Y-Yeah… but you—"
Alias dropped to one knee. His strength gave out.
Then darkness.
—
Hospital Room – Hours Later
White light.
Beeping monitors.
A dull pain in his ribs.
Alias blinked slowly, eyes adjusting.
"You're awake."
The familiar voice brought him peace.
He turned to see Lucas, arms crossed, sitting by his bed.
"Where…?" Alias muttered.
"Hospital," Lucas said. "The girl you saved ran for help. She told me what happened."
Alias gave a weak smile. "I passed out, huh?"
"You bled out, dumbass," Lucas muttered. "Took on four guys and still dropped every single one of them."
Alias turned his head away. "I had to."
The door flew open.
Warren barged in, looking furious.
"Who did this to you? Tell me. I'll break their damn legs!"
Lucas chuckled. "Calm down, drama queen. He beat them up. They should be the ones in the hospital."
Warren ignored him. "Then why is he in the bed, huh? Because he's still weak. I told you to stop playing hero."
Alias laughed, weakly. "I'm trying to be stronger than you idiots."
Lucas smirked. "You're getting there."
Suddenly, the door opened again—with a slam.
Warren and Lucas immediately sat up straight.
Maeve.
Hair tied up, student council sash slung across her shoulder. She looked like she had stormed her way through every hallway just to get here.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped.
Alias forced a smile. "Hi Maeve. Good to see you."
"Oh, shut it." She marched to the bed, arms crossed. "If Mom and Dad find out you got into another fight, they'll kill you."
"They're out of the country," Alias said with a shrug. "Let's keep it between us."
"Not the point!" she yelled. "Do you even think before you act?"
Alias grinned. "All the time. Just don't always follow through."
Maeve sighed and turned to Lucas. "And you. You're supposed to be the sane one."
Lucas froze. "Uh…"
"One more word and I'll rearrange your face."
Lucas shut his mouth and looked at the floor.
Warren snorted. "You're not scary."
Maeve raised an eyebrow.
Warren instantly looked away.
Alias chuckled softly, despite the pain. "You guys are the worst bodyguards ever."
Maeve shook her head but smirked. "Just get better, idiot."
And despite the scolding, despite the bruises and chaos—it was moments like this that reminded them:
They weren't just friends.
They were family.
—
End of Chapter 12