Pretty is awakened by her alarm clock. With a groan, she begrudgingly grabs her phone from the nightstand and switches off the alarm.
Gently, she removes Gugu's arm from her and gets out of bed, the chill of the morning air biting at her skin. As she rummages through her side of the wardrobe, she finally finds her uniform.
After a few moments of careful steam ironing, she moves on to Gugu’s uniform, the rhythmic hiss of the iron filling the quiet room.
Once finished, she heads to the bathroom. The sound of water running fills the small space as she sits down in the shower, letting icy water cascade over her for what feels like an eternity. Gathering her strength, she finally stands and begins to wash herself.
A few minutes later, now dressed in her uniform, Pretty pulls the sheets off Gugu. “Wake up, Gugu,” she says, her voice cutting through the morning haze.
Barely awake, Gugu squints up at Pretty in her school uniform. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to seven, or 6:45,” Pretty replies, attempting to keep her tone light.
“Okay, five more…” Gugu starts to drift off, then jolts awake. “WHAT? HOW COULD YOU LET ME OVERSLEEP?”
“You ignored the alarms you set,” Pretty reminds her, crossing her arms.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Gugu mutters to herself as she rushes out of bed and into the bathroom. “Where is my…?”
“Top left on the shelf,” Pretty answers, making the bed with swift, practiced movements.
“Thank you,” Gugu replies, now brushing her teeth. A minute later, she dashes into the shower.
After finishing making the bed, Pretty places Gugu's uniform on it. “I'll be downstairs having breakfast, and I've placed your uniform on the bed,” she calls out.
“AAAHHHHH! Fuck!” Gugu exclaims from behind the bathroom door.
“Shampoo went in your eyes again; don’t rush! Your shampoo blocking hat is on the right!” Pretty yells as she leaves the room, a smirk on her face.
“Thank you; you're a lifesaver,” Gugu replies, her voice muffled.
After a quick shower, she rushes back to her room to put on her uniform and then heads downstairs. The sight of a visibly annoyed Pretty greets her.
“What?” Gugu asks, confusion etching her features.
“It’s 7:19, which means we missed the bus,” Pretty informs her, arms crossed.
“I'll take you; I know a shortcut,” Nobuhle offers, appearing in the doorway.
“Here,” Pretty shouts, handing Gugu a lunchbox and juice. “That’s your breakfast—a sandwich and some orange juice. I also got you this mint gum to get rid of that breakfast odor.”
“Pretty, you’ll make someone a great wife someday,” Nobuhle comments with a chuckle.
“I guess,” Pretty replies, scratching her head, a hint of embarrassment creeping in.
Pretty and Gugu follow Nobuhle to her car, the morning sun shining brightly as they head to school. They manage to arrive at school just ten minutes before the bell rings, and Nobuhle parks outside the school gates.
“What did I tell you?” Nobuhle says triumphantly, her smile wide.
“You broke like 15 traffic laws in 30 minutes,” Gugu retorts, shaking her head.
“But you're 10 minutes early,” Nobuhle points out, a playful glint in her eyes.
Pretty sighs, “Yes, bye.” She exits the vehicle. As Gugu is about to leave, she turns to her sister. “I did what you asked, but are you sure about this?”
“Trust me; you won’t believe it even when it’s happening,” Nobuhle reassures her.
“Okay, oh! I left the lunchbox and juice bottle in the back,” Gugu exclaims, pausing before exiting the vehicle.
“What were you talking about?” Pretty asks, curiosity piqued.
“Your birthday,” Gugu says, placing her hand over Pretty’s shoulder as they walk through the second gate. “I was thinking we could make reservations at that new Italian place opening next month and then head to the amusement park.”
“That sounds like a fun night, but my birthday is in August,” Pretty reminds her, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
“The early bird catches the worm; maybe you can get a boyfriend before then, so we can go on a double date,” Gugu suggests, a mischievous grin on her face.
“No, no one is worthy of tasting these lips,” Pretty jokes, rolling her eyes.
“Okay, I am appointing myself your matchmaker, and let me just…” Gugu replies, pulling out her phone to text Miri to come to block H ASAP.
“What are you doing?” Pretty asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Bringing in Cupid, and here she is,” Gugu announces as Miri arrives, breathless.
“I ran and flew from the other side of the school, so what’s the problem?” Miri asks, catching her breath.
“Pretty has never had a boyfriend…” Gugu starts, excitement bubbling in her voice.
Miri cuts her off, “Say no more, I got you. I have five suitors in mind.”
“Okay, indulge us,” Gugu says, her interest piqued.
“Walk with me, less like a couple and more like friends,” Miri instructs, leading the way.
“Why, are you jealous?” Pretty teases, glancing sideways at Miri.
“Nope. Let’s start with the Head Prefect himself, John Munthali. I know, nerd alert, but every Friday he goes to help at the soup kitchen and never even posts about it on social media. You know what that means?” Miri asks, her tone serious.
“Fishing for likes,” Gugu answers, smirking.
“That’s one way to look at it. The other would be that he isn’t one to brag about his accomplishments and is respected by everyone, even the jocks. When it was time to select the Head Prefect, there was no surprise when he was chosen,” Miri explains.
“True,” Gugu nods, considering.
“When it comes to ladies, well, he is a bit of a mystery, but he's smart, good-looking, respectable, friendly, approachable, and he is chilled most of the time,” Miri adds.
“Right, next suitor?” Gugu prompts, eager for more.
“Moosa…” Miri starts.
“Ah! No,” Pretty interjects firmly.
“He is a little uptight,” Miri admits, raising her hands in mock surrender.
“A little?” Pretty sarcastically remarks, a playful smile on her lips.
“Okay, a lot, but I'm sure underneath all that golden boy BS, there is a real one,” Miri defends.
“Prove it,” Gugu challenges, crossing her arms.
“Okay, let’s go to the garden to finish this conversation,” Miri suggests, leading the way. As they exit the block, they step into the lush Bio garden, the vibrant colors of flowers surrounding them. They take a seat on a nearby bench.
“What are we looking at?” Gugu asks, glancing around.
“This garden was built by him. Every single flower that is not indigenous to this area, he planted them in a way that they don’t affect the other plants and take all their nutrients,” Miri explains, pride evident in her voice.
“Wow!” Pretty exclaims, her eyes wide.
“Yeah, he puts in the work, no matter how mind-numbingly tedious the task may be. But since you don’t fancy him, onto suitor number 3: standing at 7 feet tall, Gift,” Miri continues, her enthusiasm unflagging.
“Isn’t he like a sex addict?” Pretty asks, raising an eyebrow.
“With multiple partners?” Gugu adds, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Pretty.
“Can’t say, and yes, if Pretty is just looking for something physical, he is your guy,” Miri explains, shrugging.
“No!” Pretty interjects firmly.
“Okay, Masiya Siyabonga, that's the 4th choice,” Miri announces, her tone serious.
“I think he's gay,” Pretty concludes, crossing her arms skeptically.
“I second that thought,” Gugu chimes in, nodding.
“He is not gay,” Miri insists, shaking her head.
“How do you know?” Gugu inquires, genuinely curious.
“I saw him kiss a girl last year,” Miri explains, her tone matter-of-fact.
“And no gay man has ever kissed a girl before,” Gugu adds, smirking.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Or dated a girl,” Pretty remarks, her voice teasing.
“Yebo, or even gotten married to a woman,” Pretty continues, giggling.
“I get your points, but just because he takes care of his appearance doesn’t make him gay. And you both know... Oh! I see, it’s the OCD, isn’t it?” Miri realizes, a lightbulb moment dawning.
“Absolutely,” Pretty confirms, laughing.
“Yeah, that and the fact he is crazy,” Gugu adds, grinning.
“What do you mean?” Miri asks, perplexed.
“Remember three years ago when he nearly got robbed? Not only did he smash the thief’s face in, but he also had no emotions on his face during the entire altercation. That's some serial killer shit right there,” Gugu explains, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Okay, the last one is Luke, the most laid-back guy in school. His personality is like a cool summer breeze, and he makes Pretty laugh and relax,” Miri suggests, her eyes sparkling.
“Perfect,” Gugu agrees, a grin spreading across her face.
“No, it’s not,” Pretty protests, her face turning a bright shade of red.
“Your blushing face says otherwise,” Gugu teases, nudging her playfully.
“It’s settled then,” Miri declares just as the bell rings, echoing through the hallways.
“What’s settled?” Pretty asks, confusion written all over her face.
“Luke is going to be your first boyfriend,” Miri reveals, her voice dripping with mischief.
“Luke and Pretty sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Gugu teases, dancing around them.
“Real classy, Gugu,” Pretty responds, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile.
The girls head to class, and as they settle into their seats, Shelia walks in and stands in front of the whole class, her presence demanding attention. “Today, all of you will have six lessons only, yes, blackie.”
“Firstly, that’s racist, and secondly, why?” John inquires, raising an eyebrow.
“You do realize I am an albino, right?” Shelia asks, her tone sharp.
The whole class is taken aback by this revelation, a ripple of murmurs spreading through the room.
“I am surrounded by racists,” Shelia mutters to herself, rolling her eyes.
“You are blond,” John points out, confusion evident on his face.
“So?” Shelia retorts, crossing her arms.
“I haven’t met any Native African person named Shelia,” Nkosi adds, tilting his head.
Shelia isn't sure how to respond to Nkosi's statement and decides to ignore it. “Before asking me a lot of unnecessary questions, I will answer John’s question. Yesterday, when you all took the contracts home with you, there was a clause written in the fine print. The said aforementioned clause, and I quote: in order for this clause to be activated, the contract has to be in the possession of the Class 12 A student for 12 hours, and well, it’s nearly been 17 hours. This clause is straightforward: you will participate in one raid, and failing to do so will result in a fine in excess of 500 million,” Shelia explains, her voice steady.
“You can’t do that!” Penelope shouts, visibly enraged.
“Next time read the fine print. I will see all of you in a couple of hours at the main hall. Goodbye for now,” Shelia concludes before leaving the class, her footsteps echoing behind her.
“This is some bullshit,” Penelope mutters, crossing her arms.
“Language,” Mr. Peterson reprimands, his voice firm.
“Mxm, Ciara, do you have the contract with you?” Penelope asks, turning to her friend.
“I think so,” Ciara answers, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
“Take it out then, and why do you have the contract with you?” Penelope presses, her eyes narrowing.
Ciara shrugs her shoulders, “Plot.” She takes out the contract and hands it to Penelope, who quickly becomes the center of attention as almost the entire class surrounds her to see if it is true.
Penelope browses through the 100-page document until she finds it. “It’s word for word what she said,” she announces, disbelief lacing her tone.
Brandon is the first to respond to Penelope’s revelation, his voice rising above the chatter. “How can you be the Head Prefect and not know about this?”
“I don’t see how this is my fault, and Miri right there—she is the student chair,” Penelope replies, pointing at Miri, who waves back at all of them.
“All of you take a seat. Most likely, Shelia put this in here so that the organization would know if we the investment can meet the job requirements, not just physically but mentally as well. But it also grants us firsthand experience so that we would know if we desire to be permanent ARMS agents—two birds, one stone,” Miri explains, her tone confident.
“Fine, we will go along with this for now,” John conceded.
***
Class 12A shuffled into the classroom, the chatter buzzing with anticipation. As they settled into their seats, Miri seized the moment, nudging Pretty with a playful grin.
“Hey, why not sit next to Vergil? You need the practice for your future partner.”
“What? No!” Pretty replied, her voice rising in pitch, a mix of surprise and embarrassment.
“Okay, well, I’ll just tell Luke you like him,” Miri teased, shrugging her shoulders mischievously.
“Oh! It’s like that.” Pretty glanced hesitantly at Vergil before sliding into the seat beside him.
Across the table, Alba eyed Vergil thoughtfully, her curiosity piqued. Leaning forward, she asked, “So, Vergil, where’s your other half today?”
“Who is that?” Vergil responded, genuinely confused.
“She has a name, Vergil,” Alba whispered, rolling her eyes.
“Are you deadass?” Vergil shot back, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
“The mouth on you,” Alba remarked, covering her face as she stifled a laugh.
“Are you done flirting, or should we leave?” Anni interjected, her tone light but teasing.
“It’s not that serious,” Vergil replied, trying to brush off the banter.
“Speaking of partnerships, I think the topic we should cover is what they use in forensic departments,” Alba began, shifting the conversation. “We list the information they give the investigative team—microscopic traces, like fibers, hair, or any tiny piece left behind. In crime scenes, they speak for the dead and reveal the moments of how they met their end.”
“I don’t see a problem with that,” Pretty said, intrigued.
Just then, Beatrice walked over to their table, handing out assigned sheets. “Vergil,” she called.
Vergil looked up at her, but she seemed lost in thought before finally saying, “Do you know certain fruits look like butts?”
“What?” Vergil asked, bewildered.
Karabo strolled over to rescue Beatrice, “I think we should go. Oh! Vergil, I need you to see me soon so I can take your measurements for the senior jacket.”
At that moment, Bella glanced at Karabo. “His measurements are chest circumference 186 inches, arm length 80 inches, wrist circumference 147 inches, shoulder width 70 inches, jacket length 6 feet…”
Everyone turned to look at her in surprise. Alba raised an eyebrow, “And how do you know that?”
Bella coughed, “We, um… knew each other on Venus.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Anni pointed out, clearly skeptical.
“Is that true, Vergil?” Karabo asked, seeking confirmation.
“Yeah,” Vergil said simply.
“I just know, that’s it,” Bella attempted to clarify, her tone defensive.
“So you say,” Pretty remarked, smirking.
Beatrice, eager to contribute, jumped in, “I got it! The school hall and doors, among other facilities, have been gradually increased little by little. I thought I was tripping, but it was in preparation for your arrival a year in advance.”
The room fell silent, confusion spreading. “Since no one has asked, what are you talking about?” Pretty finally asked.
“If Vergil’s arrival was planned a year in advance by Sheila, it means the raid we are worried about will be relatively safe, and our lives will actually be in danger,” Beatrice explained.
“If you’re done, Beatrice, this is still a lesson going on,” Mrs. Ntuli reminded her, her tone firm.
Beatrice returned to her table, while Miri exchanged a knowing look with Bella, both struggling to contain their amusement as the lesson resumed.
---
News of the impending raid lingered in the air, making the hours melt away. The entire class was tense—everyone except Miri, who buzzed with excitement about the news of her golden phantom.
Suddenly, the bell rang for the second break, slicing through the anxious atmosphere and signaling it was time to meet Sheila in the main hall. As they filed in, a sense of anticipation filled the room, and students began finding seats, their murmurs echoing in the space. Sheila stepped forward, her gaze sharp and commanding.
“Who told you to sit down?” she questioned, her tone cutting through the chatter.
“But... you told us to meet here,” John pointed out, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“I said to meet me here, but I didn’t say we’d stay,” Sheila clarified, a sly smile forming on her lips, hinting at the surprise to come.
“So where are we headed?” Gift asked, her brow still knitted with worry.
“Joe’s Place,” Sheila replied coolly.
“What?” Anni gasped, a chill running through the group.
“You heard me. The ten-story building in the middle of town. No cop dares enter without a death wish,” Sheila clarified, her voice steady.
Karabo interjected, visibly worried. “My brother James has autism, and you’re sending us to confront a gang?”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ve made arrangements,” Sheila assured her, then added, “I’ve designed a device that will prevent James from having an episode, no matter the situation. It’s quite remarkable.”
“What kind of device?” Karabo pressed, still concerned.
Sheila began a technical explanation, her voice taking on a more enthusiastic tone as she detailed how the device worked by intercepting neurological pathways, stabilizing the brain's response to stress. She signaled to Alba, who caught on and ceased using her powers. Sheila retrieved a flat black helmet from a bag and tossed it to Karabo, who handed it to James.
Suddenly, Sheila activated loud music on the sound system, filling the room with a jarring noise.
Karabo flinched, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong with you?!”
Sheila ignored her, watching as James put on the helmet. It adjusted to fit snugly and turned a calming blue. Despite the loud music, James appeared unfazed. Satisfied, Sheila turned off the sound.
“See? Perfect. Now, let’s talk about Joe. He’s been bribing local authorities for years, but we recently found out he has the mayor in his pocket. The mayor’s on his way to prison now, and Joe’s remaining power base is that building. That’s where you come in. Your mission is to take him down, so let’s take a detour to the base before heading to Joe's Place,” Sheila explained, her eyes glinting with determination.
The class followed Sheila outside, where a military-grade beaming device awaited them. The air crackled with anticipation as they were transported to ARMS Base, nicknamed the War Room. After they arrived, Sheila condensed the beaming pad with the push of a button and began setting up a projector.
Rosina, her trusted aide, busied herself preparing the room for the briefing. Sheila pointed at Will. “What do you know about Joe’s Place?”
Will responded, “It’s avoided because of the gang that runs it.”
“Correct. It has ten floors and tinted windows, so you can’t see in, but there are around 800 occupants. Our mission is to arrest every single one,” Sheila stated, pausing as Derrek walked in, a confident figure with an air of authority.
“Trying to steal my thunder?” Sheila teased, a playful glint in her eyes.
“Hardly. I’m here to announce the team’s leader,” Derrek replied firmly. “Before that, I must say this squad works under both of us, so our doors will always be open. The person who will lead the squad is my nephew, Vergil.”
The room filled with murmurs and whispers, creating a ripple of surprise.
“An honor... I guess,” Vergil said, his voice barely above a whisper.
John, displeased with this appointment, challenged, “Isn’t this nepotism?”
Derrek responded firmly, explaining the difference between a school setting and ARMS, which required more than just academic leadership. “I understand your concerns, but I stand by my choice. Sheila?”
“Vergil’s the right choice,” Sheila affirmed without hesitation.
“Alright, no more questions?” Derrek scanned the room before handing the briefing back to Sheila, who outlined the mission’s logistics. As they headed to the changing room, Sheila stopped Karabo and Yasmin, instructing them to follow her assistant to specialized rooms.
The class returned in custom-tailored uniforms, ready for action, the atmosphere charged with adrenaline.
“Alright, Vergil,” Sheila prompted, her voice steady. “Time to step up and lay out your plan.”
Vergil nodded, moving to the projector. “First, am I correct in assuming the super magnet will disarm everyone inside?”
“Exactly,” Sheila confirmed.
“Okay, we will use the chaos to our advantage. The best way is to tweak the plan just a little. If we split into four teams, it increases our chances of avoiding injuries. Team A will start at the bottom, led by John, while Team B will start at the top, led by Penelope. Team C will start in the middle, then break into two teams—C1, which I will lead, and C2, which Miri will lead. As for the members for each team…”
Vergil proceeded to assign members to each team, carefully considering their skills and abilities.
Team A: John will lead, with Gift, Moosa, Elizabeth, Mandisa, and Theresa.
Team B: Penelope will lead, with Ciara, Gugu, Yasmin, Brandon, and Beatrice.
Team C1: I will lead, with Bella, Luke, James, Karabo, and Nkosi.
Team C2: Miri will lead, with Pretty, Anni, Nontetha, Siyabonga, and William.
After Vergil detailed the teams, Sheila clarified the use of tranquilizer-based guns. “You all have to remember to never shoot anyone with more than two bullets. The first bullet will do the job; the second bullet may be overkill, but still no problem. The third one will be lethal force for humans. As agents, lethal force is the last resort. Oh! I almost forgot—those metal bracelets are connected to the guns to avoid lethal force. The bracelet will vibrate when someone has been shot three times or more. It will turn blue when you are near that person, and that’s when you administer the medicine to keep the person from dying. They will remain unconscious for 30 minutes, unlike the 4 hours if you use one bullet. The medicine is in a box found in the pocket of your uniform, and each box is filled with 10 injection needles.”
Derrek spoke up as they wrapped up. “Your transport vehicles are outside. Sheila and I will be in the Eagle, providing tactical support, but it’s up to you from here.”
They all headed out to the parking lot, where two riot trucks and the specially designed ARMS Eagle truck awaited. The engines roared to life, filling the air with anticipation as the team prepared to confront the dangers that lay ahead. Both riot trucks rolled through the gates of an abandoned apartment complex, parking just outside Joe’s Place. The assignment was set to begin.