A ceaseless downpour drenched the city, raindrops striking the concrete in relentless percussion. The sky loomed heavy, choked with brooding clouds that swallowed any hint of starlight. The streets lay in near silence, save for the rain's endless cadence. It was 2:23 a.m. on a Thursday. Most homes were dark, their occupants long since retreated to bed, resigned to another workday on the horizon.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Kal muttered, his voice low and steady, cutting through the rain's rhythm.
Clad in dark clothing, he balanced precariously on the edge of a rooftop. The building’s slick surface shimmered faintly under the distant glow of a streetlamp. He adjusted his stance, stretching his arms deliberately before pulling a mask over his face. Below him lay a narrow alley, illuminated only in sections by buzzing fluorescent lights. A single dented trash can leaned haphazardly against the wall.
He stepped forward and dropped.
Three stories down, the air tore past him, his black scarf trailing like a phantom in the wind. The moment his boots struck the puddled ground, his body coiled low, absorbing the impact in a fluid, controlled motion.
Thud.
Water splashed up, soaking the hems of his pants, but he didn’t flinch. Rising in one seamless movement, he faded into the shadows of the alley, retreating beyond the reach of the lights.
He waited, crouched in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. His breathing slowed, steadying into a deliberate rhythm. Then came the sound he’d been anticipating—the heavy, hurried steps of a man approaching.
“Ah, fuck! The Ps almost got me, man. I better get paid for this shit. It wasn’t easy stealing tech like this. Had to get through all the rankers, too.”
The voice belonged to a man in his late 30s, visibly out of shape and out of breath. Kal watched as the man stumbled into view, clutching a box to his chest. His grumbling grew louder as he patted himself down in a frantic search.
“Fuck! Did I drop my phone? I swear, I’m retiring after this!”
Kal remained motionless, watching. Waiting.
Patience.
When the man’s focus strayed fully to his pockets, Kal moved. He darted forward, each step deliberate, every angle calculated. By the time the man looked up, it was already too late.
In a swift motion, Kal yanked his scarf free and looped it around the man’s neck. Pivoting to his back, he pulled tight.
“Spec—!”
The word barely escaped before the man’s airway constricted. Three seconds. That was all it took.
As the man collapsed, Kal lowered him carefully to the soaked ground, ensuring no sound would betray his position. He exhaled, relief mingling with the rain on his skin, and quickly scanned his surroundings.
No onlookers.
“Now, let’s see what you’ve got…” Kal muttered, crouching to inspect the box the man had carried so desperately. His brow furrowed. Despite its size, the package was surprisingly light. *Not jewelry. Not weapons. Then what?*
Before he could dig deeper, the distant sound of boots splashing through puddles reached him. The Ps were close—five of them, at least, judging by the voices echoing through the alley.
“Shit,” Kal hissed, his mind racing. Leaving the box would be safer, but his prints were already all over it.
Clutching the package, he sprinted. Ahead, a five-foot wall blocked the alley’s exit. He vaulted off a nearby trash can, clearing the barrier with a slight scrape to his leg. Ignoring the sting, he pressed on, weaving through labyrinthine alleys and dodging the occasional drunk slumped against the walls.
Fifteen minutes later, he reached the modest house he called home, slipping through the backyard gate with careful steps. He didn’t bother latching it behind him.
Sliding open his bedroom window, he placed the box on his bed and climbed inside.
Finally, home.
Kal tossed his soaked clothes into a heap and flicked on the heater, standing in his boxers as the warmth began to seep into the room. His toned frame reflected faintly in the windowpane—lean but sturdy, a body honed more by necessity than vanity.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rubbed his hands together absently. Then it hit him.
“Wait… My first day of school is tomorrow!”
He scrambled to set an alarm for 6:30, muttering a curse under his breath. Pulling the blankets over himself, he shut his eyes and let exhaustion drag him under.
Drr—
The alarm barely chirped before Kal shot upright, shoving the blankets and pillows aside.
Three light knocks followed on his door, and it creaked open.
“Kal, it’s time to wake up,” his mom’s soft voice whispered.
“I know, Mom…” he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Remember, you’re catching the bus today, and I’m working a 12-hour shift, so you’ll have to walk home. Also, we’re going to Halmonee’s house tomorrow, so don’t stay out too late tonight. Love you!” She kissed his cheek before retreating out his door.
Kal mumbled an acknowledgment, dragging himself out of bed. His house was small—a one-floor townhouse where every room felt connected. Stepping into the kitchen, he caught the smell of coffee. His nose wrinkled.
Pulling open the fridge, he scanned its contents.
Eggs and rice. That’ll work.
“Alright I’m going, have a good day!”
“Bye, love you.” Kal replied half heartedly.
He grabbed the carton of eggs and a container of pre-cooked rice, setting them on the counter. Turning on the stove, he reached for a bowl, cracking two eggs into it with practiced precision.
Grabbing a fork, he began scrambling.
Salt and pepper. That’s all you need. Anything else is overkill. Well not overkill but yeah.
He opened the fridge again, pulling out raw butter—the farm kind. He smirked, knowing his mom would disapprove but refusing to settle for anything less.
The butter sizzled as it hit the pan, melting into a golden pool. Kal poured in the eggs, keeping the heat low, his eyes fixed on the edges as they began to set.
Not too fast. They’ll overcook.
He moved with mechanical precision, adjusting the flame, stirring at just the right moment, folding the eggs before they fully solidified. The rice beeped in the microwave, perfectly timed.
The seconds ticked by, unnoticed. When he finally glanced at the clock, his heart lurched.
20 minutes?! Damn it!
“Let’s just hurry up and eat,” he muttered, shoveling the steaming food into his mouth. His tongue burned, but he ignored it, eyes darting to the clock.
The rest of his morning became a frantic blur—showering, dressing, slathering product into his hair. Each task felt rushed, yet, it was a needed ritual.
By the time he bolted out the door, bag in hand, it was already 7:30.
In a dead sprint, his curls bounced on his head, not giving them any time to set in place, sweat beading on his skin. Looking down at his phone: 7:35. Only one more minute until the bus arrived.
Arriving at the bus stop, the bus soon joined him.
Just in time!
He boarded as it pulled up. The ride was smooth, the AC cooling him down. It was obvious most freshmen were taking the bus based on their attire.
15 minutes later, a robotic voice echoed throughout the bus:
“Now arriving at Prince Hill High.”
The towering gates loomed ahead as the bus screeched to a halt. Kal stepped off, joining the crowd funneling toward the entrance.
So this is it…
The bell rang sharply, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the crumpled schedule he’d hastily stuffed into his bag.
*Engineering and Design, Building 206, Room 455.*
Heart pounding, he ran inside the school gates, not even taking time to observe the school itself.
*Damn! Shit! Fuck! Late on my first day?!*
Running into the school was like navigating a maze. Past the enormous school gates, buildings of all shapes and sizes sprawled endlessly.
“Building 206, Room 455…” Kal muttered those words repeatedly, ingraining them in his brain.
Turning every corner and checking every building number, all while frantically glancing at his phone, was starting to overload his brain.
Wait, there it is!
Quickly spotting the building, he darted inside. To his luck, Room 455 was right next to the entrance.
Putting his phone in his pocket, fixing the collar of his shirt, taking deep breaths, and wiping sweat off his face, he was finally ready—ready for his first day.
Turning the icy door handle, he was greeted by the chill breeze from the classroom AC. The room was dim, and all eyes were on him now
He entered the room, stepping in front of the small class of what seemed to be 10 kids.
“H-Hi? Uh… I’m Kalyani, but you can just call me Kal. I’m 16, and uh… yeah… nice to meet you all…”
The sound of the AC was the only response.
“Mr. Kal, you may sit down,” a stern voice came from behind.
“Y-Yes, ma’am…”
Taking the only available seat—the one right in front of the teacher—Kal braced himself.
This time the presence of the teacher took center stage.
“Alright, with introductions out of the way, let me introduce myself. You may call me Ms. Lumenberg. As you can see, I have the unfortunate displeasure of teaching engineering. For whatever reason you chose this, I don’t know why—you should’ve done your research. Answering all your questions before you ask them: the school is massive, spanning about 50 miles due to our large student body. We will be learning about engineering. Finally, this school sucks, but try to make the best of it. Alright, free time. Class will begin tomorrow.”
This is going to be a long year…
Ms. Lumenberg’s brown hair fluttered as she sat down.
“Tough break, huh…” a voice whispered.
A girl next to him nudged his shoulder. Her green eyes and baby-blue hair contrasted with her bronze skin. Her hair, slightly uneven, fluttered down to her lower back.
“Yeah,” Kal scoffed a little. “Uh, what’s your name?”
“Eshara. Don’t worry, I remember your name, Kal,” she said with a laugh.
Huh, maybe this year won’t be that bad…