The name "Stroke" felt like a lead weight tied around Hawk's neck.
He stood outside the massive, obsidian gates of Neo-Berlin High. The building wasn't just a school; it was a fortress, all sharp angles and cold, dark granite. Every time Hawk showed his student ID, the security scanner didn't just read his name—it seemed to scream it. *Stroke.* The family name that, according to every history textbook, was responsible for plunging the world into two horrific wars. The prejudice wasn't just gossip; it was taught as fact. Hawk was a walking target, viewed by everyone as a potential global disaster.
But Hawk wasn't here for history class. He was here for Hank.
His older brother, Hank, had died right here in 2024. The official report called it an "unfortunate accident"—a fall from the third-floor balcony. Hawk knew that was a lie. He remembered the last night clearly. Hank, nervous and wired, had laughed that high, shaky laugh of his, the one he used when he was truly terrified.
"They're going to kill me for this evidence, Hawk," Hank had whispered, shoving a tiny, encrypted data stick into Hawk's hand. "Keep it safe. Don't look at it. Wait until I tell you."
Hank never got the chance to tell him. Now, Hawk was enrolled in the same school where his brother died, carrying the secret that could either clear his family name or get him killed, just like Hank. The evidence was hidden deep in his room, but Hawk knew the key to unlocking it—and the truth—was somewhere within these cold, echoing hallways.
He walked into the cafeteria, a loud, chaotic space filled with the privileged children of Neo-Berlin's elite. He spotted his first target immediately: **Sonic**. Sonic wasn't a fighter; he was a brainiac, the top student in the entire school, hunched over his lunch and a complicated physics textbook, trying to disappear.
Unfortunately, Sonic wasn't fast enough.
Towering over the genius was **Golgo**, a brick wall of a guy who looked like he ate textbooks for breakfast. Golgo was the muscle, the number three enforcer in a school gang called the Mosquito Group—a group that specialized in making life miserable for anyone who wasn't rich, powerful, or, in this case, named Stroke.
"Look at the Topper," Golgo sneered, grabbing Sonic's collar and lifting him slightly off the ground. "Too smart to look at us, huh? Maybe we should rearrange your face so you pay attention."
Sonic was frozen, terrified. That was Hawk's cue. This wasn't about saving a friend yet; it was about making a statement. Hawk moved with a focused, explosive energy that surprised even himself. He didn't bother with a warning. He just delivered one single, sharp strike—a precise blow to Golgo's midsection.
It wasn't a wild punch; it was a pure, concentrated burst of force. Golgo didn't even have time to yell. He dropped Sonic, his eyes wide with shock, and immediately crumpled to the floor, clutching his stomach and gasping for air. The entire cafeteria went silent.
Hawk looked down at the defeated bully, then calmly picked up Sonic's dropped textbook.
"You okay, Topper?" Hawk asked, his voice low and steady.
Sonic stared, not at Golgo, but at Hawk. He didn't look grateful yet, just stunned.
Hawk knew he had just thrown the first punch in a war that started decades ago, a war that killed his brother, and a war he was determined to finish. He had just declared himself an enemy of the Mosquito Group, and by extension, the powerful people who ran this school. He was officially in the game.