Kai Langford - June 2114
The bell pulls me awake like a fist to the chest. For a second I don't know where I am and then the classroom snaps into place. Stale air, half-full backpacks, the slow, heat-heavy hum of summer. I must have dozed off.
Yesterday's sparring left my shoulders raw and my hands aching, with the tournament three weeks away I've been running myself ragged.
I stand and grab my blazer. God only knows why this miserable school insists we wear blazers in June, the fabric sticks to my skin the instant I put it on.
The breeze through the open window is a small mercy. Outside the window, the street is a bright smear against the sky, too bright. Another world, a world I want and don't want at the same time.
Around me, conversations pass through the room. Talks about internships, gap years, scholarship offers. Graduations mean decisions, but whenever someone asks me what I'll do next I freeze. What do I want? I scrape by with just enough grades so far. Noah was already pulled into the advanced program years ago for the smart, and talented. When he left my class I felt unthered, like a compass with the needle ripped out.
What is things happened at his new school and I wasn't there to protect him from, that thought pulled at my chest.
Luckily Finn is there. No surprise. He's the sort of kid the recruiters write home about, smart, respectful, controlled aggression. He isn't all show, he's competent and that makes me feel a little less anxious knowing his there to keep an eye out for Noah.
A light tap on my shoulder breaks my thought. Molly… small, hair twisted into a single pigtail today, blue eyes bright. She tilts her head in that practiced, dangerous way. I recognise the smile, practiced, waiting for approval.
"Hi, Kai. It's not like you to sleep in class?" she teases, fingers playing with her hair.
"Hi, Molly." I manage a smile. It's automatic.
She's pretty, popular, and blissfully convinced the world owes her attention. I gained her attention a while back, all because a group of bored girls put a bet on which of them could get a kiss from me first.
I've let myself fall to the attention because I stupidly wanted, to be wanted.
All through school, I played the part of the easygoing, laid back guy who didn't let anything get to him. Always smiling, always stepping in when a fight went to far, always being the so called "protector". People liked this version of me.
But it wasn't really me. It was just the mask I wore so I wouldn't disappear in the background, so I could be someone worth noticing. Someone people valued, not just… there.
The act worked a little too well. Somewhere along the way, girls in my class started developing crushes. At first, I didn't think much of it. But then came the notes, the glances, the confessions. I got asked out more than a few times, and I always turned them down with the same rehearsed excuses.
"I'm not really looking to date right now."
"I need to focus on my training."
It was easier to lie than to tell them the truth. I was scared they'd figure it out.
Because the truth? I've never been interested girls. Never have been.
And if anyone found out, especially my father, it would be the end of me.
So I smiled. I played my part. And I kept lying. Because I didn't want to be pushed away, even if it means hiding the parts of me that people might try to break.
"I'm planning an end of term party," she says, voice bright. "You have to come!"
The idea of a house full of thin smiles and fake laughter makes my stomach tighten. I start to say no. "I have the tournament…"
Her face falls for one heartbeat, and I cave. "Maybe I can pop in for a bit." Damn. My unwillingness to let people down is the single cheapest price I pay to be liked.
She bounces away, triumphant. I sign and turn around to finish packing my bag.
_____________________
The afternoon air outside hits me like steam as I walk out the school gates. I pull the blazer and tie and shove them in my bag.
Kids spill from the gates in waves full of laughter, bikes and hugs.
The clock on my phone reads 03:25 p.m. Plenty of time to pick Noah up. I start down the street towards his school.
My phone vibrates. "Father" flashes on the screen. My stomach drops. He never calls. Why is he phoning me?
"Kai. I don't have time for chit-chat," he says the second I answer, voice clipped as a board meeting. "Your Grandfather is coming tonight, so behave and don't embarrass me."
A small, private part of me dies. Grandfather's visits are treated like a theatre show. Noah is paraded like a prize, while I'm seated somewhere just out of view, enough to be present but not enough for any attention to fall onto me. I try to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Classmates walk by giving a wave and a smile as they pass by and I give a little a wave and a fake smile back.
"I understand Father… Is Uncle Owen coming?"
There's a sharp exhale. "No. We'll discuss your brother's project. Make sure you pick Noah up, get him home. That is all." Click.
I slip the phone away. Keep your temper. Don't make a scene.
Anger keeps rising, hot and annoying, and makes my hands want to do something stupid. I cut into the alley by the bakery and throw my bag on the floor.
That bastard! Who does he think he is? My anger finally snaps. I kick my bag so hard it skids across the floor, then wind my arm back to punch the wall and stop.
No cuts, no bruises. I can't show up with busted hands and get yelled at. I pull my blazer out of my bag, ball it up, and wrap it tight around my fist like a makeshift glove.
The wall there is full of old chewing gum and faded posters. I raise my hand and again an throw the first punch. The blazer it takes some of the sting.
When I'm spiralling, the pain is the only thing that keeps me grounded. I hit the wall until my shoulders argue with my resolve. The alley is hot and close. Sweat slides down my back. I'm winding up for another strike when a voice curls out of the shadows.
"What are you so angry about, boyyyyy?"
The guy who stumbles into the light looks like trouble. Half his teeth are gone, his hair's greasy, and his clothes hang off him like he stole them. He stinks of smoke and hasn't washed in a while, and when he grins it's feels wrong.
I tighten my jaw and prepare myself for whatever might happen next.
"None of your business."
He laughs like he's proud of it. "You look like you want someone dead."
I need to get out of here. This feels dangerous and Noah is waiting for me.
Stupid. I was so stupid. Letting my temper drag me into this alley like I was looking for trouble.
The guy must have seen it on my face. The anger still fresh, my first itiching because he suddenly throws his hands up like I was the one being unreasonable.
"Peaceeee my boy" he said with a crooked grin, still smiling like we were old friends.
"I'm not you boy" I snap back. "What do you want?"
He chuckled, voice dry and weirdly theatrical. "I'm your Guardian angel."
The word Guardian hit different. Instantly, an image flashed through my head—black coats, glowing emblems on their chest. GenX's Guardians. Legends. Weapons in human form. Heroes, depending on who you ask. Monsters, if you've ever watched what they're really capable of.
But this guy? This greasy, jittery mess of a man?
Yeah, no. Not even close.
"I'm not interested," I said, already moving to leave. "I've got somewhere to be."
He stepped in front of me, fast enough to make me flinch.
"You ever heard of Lunex?" he said, eyes lit up like he was about to tell me a secret.
"Wait, course you have… hahaha everyone's heard of it." He laughed, short and breathless, like the word itself was hilarious.
Lunex.
My whole body went still. Did he know who my father was? Did he know who he was talking to?
My hesitation gave me away, and he saw it. His smile sharpened. He leaned in, voice dropping like we were sharing something sacred.
"What if I told you I could get you a vial?" he said. "A real one. Just one hit. That's all it takes."
Lunex. It's my father's obsession. GeneX's promise to protect humanity. I've heard hushed conversations in late night conversations, seen blueprints that my father would "accidently" leave for Noah to find.
"What if I told you I could get you a vial?" the man repeats as if I didn't hear him the firsttime. Eyes glittering with a greed that's close to worship. "For a price."
The alley seems to condense. He reaches into his pocket and produces a small glass vial filled with a thick orange liquid. My breath sticks in my throat, the light catches the fluid and it looks like captured sunlight. For a second I think I'm dreaming. For another, I think he's an expert liar.
My phone vibrates again.
"Twenty-five grand," he says, licking his lips.
My mind its trapped between looking at my phone and keeping my eyes on the vial.
"You want to be strong, don't you?" the man said, eyes glinting as he held the vial up like it was holy. "Just imagine what you could do with this. What you could become."
He looked at the vial like it was the most precious thing in the world, like it could fix everything.
I stared, heart hammering. "How... how did you get that?"
He laughed, a dry, cracked sound that scraped against the inside of my ears.
"Ah, that's my little secret. So…" He leaned in closer, teeth yellow and crooked behind a wild grin. "What do you say?"
Every nerve in my body screamed no. This was a bad idea, all of it. I needed to walk away… now.
"I'm still not interested," I said flatly and stepped past him.
As I walked toward the alley's mouth, I could hear him behind me, muttering, chuckling to himself like some unhinged street prophet. I shook my head. Crazy old man. No way that vial was real. And even if it was, I wasn't stupid enough to take something that dangerous.
But…
I stopped cold in the middle of the alley.
A high fatality rate.
That's what Father had whispered to Noah behind closed doors. I hadn't understood much, but I'd picked up enough to know Lunex wasn't some miracle drug. It worked… sometimes. Other times, it tore people apart from the inside out. If this guy really had a vial… and he offered it to someone else, they could die.
I turned back.
He was still standing there, hunched over, grinning like he'd just won a bet with the universe. Long, matted hair stuck to the sides of his face, and his shirt was three sizes too big and stained with something I didn't want to guess at.
The smile stretched wider when he saw me coming back. "Knew you'd change your mind," he crooned. "They always do… hahaha"
My eyes flicked to the vial still clutched in his hand, then back to his face. It wasn't that I wanted it. I just couldn't risk him giving it to someone else.
Not when I might be the only person who knew just how dangerous that thing really was.
Something inside me snaps like cheap glass. I move before thought arrives. My right fist connects with his cheek, hard. The sound is awful and necessary.
He staggers back, blood flecks his lips. I sweep, my foot hooking his knees, and he hits the concrete with a breathy curse. But unlike with Finns, this time I don't stop. My fist follows through until the world tilts and his eyelids flutter.
The vial falls out of his fingers and clinks across the pavement. I snatch it before it can rolls any further. The metal casing surrounding the glass vial is impossibly cold, and it trembles in my clasp as if it knows the wrongness of what it contains.
I'm not trying to play the hero. There's no nobility in my actions and what I do next, it only out of practicalness.
I yank the man by his collar and haul him toward a lamp post, pull my tie out my bag and loop it around his wrists like a strap. It's clumsy, but it'll hold until someone finds him. I press a sticky note on his forehead "BAD GUY". Childish but straight to the point.
My phone buzzes yet again and I pull my phone out my pocket.
Noah.
- Where are you?
- Are you training today?
- Don't worry. Finn is walking home with me. See you soon.
Shit.
I look up at the clock. 04:22 p.m. My mouth goes dry. I'm late. I jam the vial into my bag and wrap it in the blazer as if fabric can hide the consequence of my actions.
I rub my face with my hands and glance back at the man bound to the pole, at his crooked smile abandoned by consciousness. The alley smells like stale bread and the sun slices across the gaps through the enterance of the alley.
I start running toward home. I'll think about the vial later. My priorty is to catch up to Noah before get home or I will be in trouble.