Scene 2
The classroom buzzed with low conversation and footsteps on tile. Kael walked through the school gates like any other student, but with no sense of purpose beyond what he'd observed others doing. Backpack slung over his shoulder, he navigated the halls with calm detachment, scanning signs, noting the position of classrooms and the faces of people who seemed familiar but sparked no emotion.
He didn't remember choosing to come here. But he must have—he was here, after all. That was enough to justify it.
As he passed a corner near the lockers, a voice barked behind him.
> "Hey! You got a death wish, freak?"
Kael turned slowly.
A taller student stood there with squared shoulders, flanked by two others with smirks on their faces. The main one—Marek—his name came faintly from a remembered seating chart, or maybe an overheard conversation. He looked angry. Not surprised. Focused.
Kael didn't flinch. Not because he was brave. Simply because the situation hadn't registered as dangerous yet.
> "I don't understand," Kael said, voice level. "Is there something you want?"
Marek stepped closer, jabbing a finger at Kael's chest. "Don't play dumb. You think you can just talk to me like that yesterday and walk off? Who do you think you are?"
There was no recollection of this interaction. Kael tilted his head slightly.
> "If I said something rude yesterday, I don't remember it."
Laughter echoed behind Marek, but the bully's expression only darkened. "You've got some nerve."
Kael assessed the options. The hallway was mostly empty now. No teachers nearby. Marek had two companions, but they hadn't moved. That gave him roughly six seconds to act before being restrained or outnumbered—if a fight was inevitable.
He remembered something from a manual—or maybe a video: if attacked, don't wait for the first blow.
Kael dropped his backpack.
Marek's eyes widened, caught off guard.
Then Kael moved. It wasn't graceful. It wasn't powerful. But it was direct. He slammed into Marek's chest with his shoulder, driving him back into the lockers with a loud metallic clang. The sound rang down the corridor.
The other two stepped forward, startled—but Kael had already backed away, breathing steady. No victory. Just action. Just process.
Marek slumped to the ground, shocked more by the hit than the pain.
> "You're insane," one of the others muttered.
Kael picked up his backpack, nodded once, and walked away.
He didn't feel triumph. Or fear. Or guilt.
Just another step in a plan he didn't remember making.