Zane was enjoying lunch at the east cafeteria, playing a game on his phone, content he’d finally gotten used to the swing of things, when his club president, Johnathan, sat down across from him.

“Hey, Zane,” Johnathan congenially greeted, a little out of breath.

“Is something up?” Zane apathetically asked.

“Uh, yeah. You could say something’s up.” He took an uneasy breath, mentally preparing to drop something unfortunate. “Look, I know you’re busy, and I know you have a lot going on in your life–”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, you’ve been a member of the social studies club for two weeks and you haven’t shown up to a single meeting.”

“So? What is that, like, three meetings?”

“Four, actually. We had one today. That you missed.”

“I have a legit reason for missing today! I got a ton of pre-cal homework, I spent the whole afternoon working on it. Here, you can look at the timestamps on the website–”

“I believe you,” Johnathan reassured. “But if you’re going to be a part of the social studies club, you have to actually, you know… participate.”

“Come on, Johnny. I boosted your membership up to five! That’s two weeks’ worth of funding I netted for you without showing up!”

“Actually, we’re at four members. Chaney, one of our hold overs from last year, quit so she could focus on the track team. We held her farewell party right before you showed up. I told you we were up to five members because I wanted you to feel welcome and appreciated.”

“Good job," Zane sardonically retorted. "Knowing there was money in it for you made me feel real welcome.”

“Give me a break, it’s my first time being in charge of anything. Look, we need to do something about your participation problem, because if you don’t participate, I’m going to have to drop you from the club.”

Zane froze and put down his phone. “Say sike right now.”

“I’m serious," Johnathan reitterated. "At the end of every week I have to file a report of our club activities and participation of each of our members, and if someone isn’t participating, I can’t justify their membership.”

“Make something up!” he adamantly demanded.

“Even if I thought that was remotely acceptable, I’ve had someone from the disciplinary committee breathing down my neck about you!”

Zane's fight or flight response kicked in and he became suspicious. “What did you tell them?”

“Only as much as I need to. Look, I did some snooping, and I think I have a decent idea of your situation and why everything’s been… difficult for you. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, but this school has rules, and I have a responsibility to uphold them. If another week goes by and you’re not in our club activities report, we’re going to have to drop you. I want to help you, but for me to do that, you need to help yourself.”

“Fine!" Zane beligerantly conceded. "What do I need to do?”

Johnathan smiled appreciatively. He slid a sheet of paper across the table. “Here’s a list of questions. Go around campus and interview, like, five people, and write down their answers before the next club meeting.”

“Oh is that all?”

“If you showed up to meetings every now and then, I could write off your attendance as participation.”

“I’ll get your interviews.” Zane begrudgingly snatched up the paper.

Johnathan sighed with relief. “Don’t procrastinate.”

Apt advice, but the instant the list of questions went into Zane’s bag, he pushed it out of his mind and went the entire next day blissfully oblivious to the encroaching deadline. It wasn’t until he got back to his room and flopped down on his bed that Nelson asked him if he’d seen some misplaced papers for the astronomy club and the gears in his head began to turn.

“Ah, shit.”

“What’s the matter?” Nelson asked.

“I just remembered, I have a thing for my club due tomorrow.”

“Can it wait?”

“No. We meet right after classes, there’s no time to get any interviews.”

“You won’t get any today if you wait any longer. Everyone will be going home soon.”

“Yeah,” Zane groaned. “It’s a shame, too. I was all caught up on my homework and everything. Thought I’d get an afternoon to myself for once.”

“Here, I’ll help you practice, and you can knock out one of your interviews at the same time.”

Zane shrugged. “Alright. He didn't say I couldn't interview my roommate.” He dug the list out from the bottom of his bag and smoothed out the wrinkles, scanning the lines as he fell back onto his bed. “Alright, question 1: What is your name?”

“Nelson Reese,” Nelson formally answered.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Question 2: Are you in a club? Come on, I already know this stuff about you!”

“You won’t know everyone as well as your roommate, so just ask me the questions– are you writing this down?”

“Dammit.” He scrounged around the room for a notepad, scratched down the answers he already had and fumbled through the rest of the questions. They were simple, asinine questions that seemed pointless to Zane. Johnathan probably thought he was doing Zane a favor by making the questions so basic, but Zane was more of a mind that if he had to do something, it might as well be interesting.

Students were trickling out of the buildings when Zane emerged from his dorm to conduct his interviews. He approached the first few people he saw, but everyone had friends to meet or homework to do or anything other than answer some guy’s questions. His lingering reputation from the first day didn’t make him any easier to approach. After half an hour and circumnavigating the campus once, he managed to intimidate an interview out of one guy, but that still put him less than half-way there.

The campus was emptying as students got to their clubs and everyone else vacated. Zane didn’t long until his evening class, after which was curfew. He’d have to knock out the next three quickly.

He began looking for patterns, body language to give away how agreeable someone might be. Willfully looking away and quickening their pace when Zane walked by, probably not going to answer any questions.

He found a girl reading a book on a bench, not in a hurry to get anywhere, not talking to anyone, just enjoying the afternoon. Zane didn’t initially pin her as potential lead, he first noticed her because she was considerably attractive. Not necessarily sexy, but pretty like a waterfall or a flower. Odd for her to be alone, but conveniently so. Zane suppressed his initial instinct in favor of necessity.

“Excuse me,” he stated.

“Hello?” she replied as if intrigued at being addressed.

“Hi, can I get you to answer some questions? I’m with the social studies club and I need to do interviews or they’ll kick me out.”

“Of course! Please, take a seat.” She moved over to make room, though there was plenty on either side.

Zane twirled his pen as he sat down. “Alright, first question: What is your name?”

“Desiree Williams,” she primly replied.

“Pretty name. It’s not spelled weird, is it?”

“I think it’s spelled the normal way.”

“Right,” Zane sighed, unsure what the normal way was. “Next, are you in a club?”

“No.”

“Really? What are you still doing here?”’

“I thought I liked the solitude. It’s quite peaceful when no one is around.”

“Oh. Sorry I bugged you.”

“It’s alright,” Desiree quickly assured. “People rarely approach me anyways, so this is a nice change of pace.”

They breezed through the remainder of the questions, Desiree giving a prompt and formal answer to each.

“Alright, that’s the last one,” Zane said, flipping his notebook shut.

“I hope my answers were satisfactory,” Desiree replied.

“You bet. I’ve still got two more, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later…” Desiree wistfully repeated. “Are you doing anything later?”

“I wish I wasn’t, but this school’s spartan schedule has my dick in a vice.”

“Is that so? That is unfortunate. You said you were in the social studies club?”

“That’s right.”

“I see. It was a pleasure speaking with you–”

“Zane.”

“Zane,” she repeated. “Farewell.”

After the mayhem of the first two weeks, that one friendly interaction was a well deserved breath of fresh air. He looked at the sheets of paper, three out of the five he needed. “Maybe I will get the rest tomorrow.”

That’s when he felt it. The sensation of eyes drilling into his back. He whipped around, but no one was there. Clubs started letting out, offering a fresh supply of potential interviewees, but something was off. He had a bad feeling. The kind that got blood pumping and fingers tense. The kind he didn’t want at this school.

Across campus, through the commons building, and up the steps to his dorm, he couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching him. Someone who did not like him. But there wasn’t a sword or a blue armband in sight, and he hadn’t worried about them since the incident. This was something else.

Malicious intentions grew ever more palpable with each door he passed until he stood in front of his. He placed a tightly clenched fist against the wall and leaned against it, biting his lip. “Anywhere else,” he tensely muttered. “Not here, not today.”

His danger sense should have shut off once his door was locked behind him, but that’s when his gut turned the hardest. When he was alone in his empty room. The window was locked. Nothing under the beds. No one in the closet. As far as he could tell, he was the only living thing in that room, and that put him off.

To be fair, clinging to the ceiling was the fattest of fat guys, dressed in all black with a t shirt pulled over his head. When Zane finally looked in the one direction he hadn’t checked, he couldn’t help but yell in surprise. A yell which the intruder answered with his own war cry, then dropped onto Zane with a thunderous flop. Zane wrestled himself out from under his intruder who spryly leapt to his feet.

“I don’t know who you are, but you just made a big mistake–”

The fat guy cut Zane off by running him into the wall. Body blows did nothing, he was too fluffy. The only way Zane could get him off was by beating him about the head and shoulders, even then that was only a stopgap. The fat guy grabbed him and used the immense strength built from daily life with such a heavy body to fling Zane clear across the room.

He came out of the daze just in time to move out of the way another frightful charge, but instead of running headlong into the wall, he did a flip by running up it. He twirled around, proud of his deceptive agility, but Zane picked up his bed, frame and all, and hit the intruder with his bed, frame and all. He knocked a bookshelf over on top of him and ran to the door which someone was trying to beat down, likely in response to the noise.

The moment Zane turned the lock, the door burst open and a swarm of people in all black with t shirt masks flooded in. Fists flew, elbows were thrown, knees went where knees should never go, but there were too many of them. Zane had to wade out of that room with dollar store ninjas trying to drag him down like the spawn of hell. When he was free, he slammed the door behind him and viciously pounded on the door across the hall like it owed him money.

“Allen! Allen, I know you’re home!”

The door didn’t open. Allen’s voice came across nervous and shaky. “W-What do you want, Zane?”

“Dude, let me in! Some freaky shit’s going down and I need a place to lay low!”

“I-I’m sorry, Zane. I can’t…”

“Like hell you can! Open up already!” He could hear the small army behind him fumbling over themselves to open his door.

“I’m sorry Zane! There’s nothing I can do!”

“Open the god damn door! Allen? Allen! You motherfucker, I’ll remember this!”

The door swung open and the ninjas poured out like an eldritch abomination of limbs and heads.

“There he is!” one of them shouted.

Zane took off for the stairs before any of them could regain their feet and found three waiting for him at the first landing. They might look the part, but ninjas they were not. None of them had a shred of skill in a fight and went down with one well placed fist. What they did have was numbers. In the time it took Zane to knock one out, two more would grab his legs.

Then again, only so many bodies could crowd up against him at once, and he was knocking them out so quickly it was a miracle they dragged him to a stop on those stairs. From the ninjas’ perspective it must have looked like a slaughter. They were falling left and right. The only reason Zane hadn’t escaped was their unconscious bodies slowing him down.

The fight was stalemate. That is, until the big boy emerged from Zane’s room. He ran full pelt toward the dog pile on the stairs. The floor rumbled beneath his feet as he set up for a full layout, perching on the stair’s railing before doing a flip in the air over the congestion of men.

Zane screamed. The ninjas holding him down screamed. The gardening club members tending the flowerbed outside the window screamed. Everyone was screaming.