NOVEL WEB Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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INVESTIGATION REPORT.
File Authorization: YP-102
ALIAS:
"Mask"
REAL NAME:
Unknown
GENDER:
Male
(note: estimated by body type and voice, witness reports remain consistent)
AGE:
Unknown
(note: degree of ability suggests adult, cannot confirm)
APPEARANCE:
(note: see ATTACHED image)
Wears formal clothes, seemingly ill-suited for combat: two-piece suit. White collared button up shirt, either sleeved or vest. A golden tie hangs from his neck. Wears a thin black coat over the undershirt, leaves it unbuttoned. Black gloves. Black watch. Golden leather belt. Black pants. Black boots.
Mask covering face.
Messy dirty blond hair, side of ears and chin visible, but not eyes, mouth, or nose. Mask's design is a slight smile with two narrowed black eyes. Additional information: Eye color unknown. Height unknown. Weight unknown.
PHYSICAL ABILITY:
Highly dexterous, shows extreme eye hand coordination. Use of mechanical wire complements this
(note: see _WEAPONS/TOOLS_ for further analysis)
Possibly flexible and acrobatic. Movement suggests thorough training. Physical strength on par or better than a male US marine in peak conditioning, cannot confirm. Specified combat data-reports implies practice of one or more martial arts, cannot confirm.
WEAPONS/TOOLS:
Varied. Shown use of environment as means of subjugation. This includes black retractable wire. Estimated to be a mechanical device. Attachment to belt/waist, cannot confirm.
Latches onto objects and people. Larger objects for ease of movement, and people for means of "peaceful" capture.
(note: see _PSYCH-EVAL_ for keyword "peaceful").
Additional information: initial reports show aversion yet also experience with guns, dismantling them to individual parts. Possible military background, cannot confirm.
PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION:
"Mask" showed extreme calm under duress, even considering his expression remained hidden. Possible prior experience in dangerous situations, however, the degree of experience is unclear. Furthermore, the few times his voice was noted, it sounded unconcerned and indifferent.
Additionally, manner of dress suggests self-imposed professionalism and a degree of self-control. This is supplemented by his manner of action towards criminal offenders.
Hospitalization reports reveal mild concussions, broken ribs, severe bruising, and blunt trauma. However, there were no fatalities
(note: "peaceful").
The reason for this is unclear, however, this might show a personal code. His behavior towards guns (dismantling) might correlate. Innocents remained unharmed in isolated incident, however, willingness to kill (criminals or otherwise), remains unclear.
Psychological stability: neutral.
Report ongoing.
///
"And this is all we have?"
"Yes sir."
Standing in front of the seated man with what she hoped was perfect posture, Joan answered the question as dutifully as she could.
Her outfit, jeans that were faded light blue, and a black long-sleeved shirt that hung loosely around her arms, was hardly appropriate attire considering where she was, but she had been pressed for time.
At the very least, she wasn't dressed like she had just woken up.
For all intents of purposes, she still had the look of a cop. Of course, the two items tucked along her waistband probably helped. One was a black pouch with something dark and compact sticking out, while the other was a sparkling insignia of sorts—her standard issue sidearm and badge.
"Hm..." The man hummed, his eyes trailing back towards the leaflet of information in the vanilla folder. His expression was of contemplation. "You run this by Carl?"
Joan instantly nodded.
Carl was the only one of their own who was present during the event in question. Although, unfortunate or not, he was off duty at the time.
The rest of the witnesses were interviewed, but the bulk of the report on this case had come from him.
This included how his life was saved.
And from Carl of all people—a hard-ass with a mean streak that caused Joan no shortage of trouble back when she was still a newbie—saying something like that was practically glowing praise.
Even so, Joan's brow furrowed.
A man in a mask came from the ceiling, likely the roof, incapacitated four armed gunmen, and based on Carl's testimony, it had all been done within a minute. Then, there was also the robber we found inside the vault, completely unconscious next to duffle bags of money...
She would say it was someone's idea of an elaborate prank if there weren't so many witnesses.
Her boss suddenly removed his elbows from a mahogany desk and leaned back, accidentally nudging a small ornately crafted plate as he did so. It read: Roland Manning, Police Commissioner.
After a moment of stewing in silence, he spoke. "His motives. Do you have any insight on his motives?"
Joan hesitated before responding, however, not because she didn't have any information, rather, it was because she did. For someone such as this masked individual, with the only revealed personal data about him being his sex, hair color, and voice, she was unsure what to make of it. It perplexed her.
"Due to... the firsthand statements of civilian observers on scene, as well as Officer Carl, I was unsure as to whether I should make mention of it since it came straight from Mas—the person, himself," Joan suddenly corrected. Alias aside, she felt a little ridiculous calling someone that. "It was rather vague, sir."
Roland rubbed the stubble on his chin, before gesturing her way. "That's fine. What did he say?"
Joan cleared her throat, closing her eyes, recalling what she heard. "During the sighting of him three weeks ago at the Municipal Bank, one woman said that she asked why he helped them, and in response... he, um, laughed."
She saw Roland blink, the contemplative expression vanishing off his face. Furthermore, his brows shot up. "He... laughed?"
"Ah well, according to the woman it was a chuckle, but yes."
Joan exhaled uncomfortably before continuing.
"He went onto say that her question was a good one, and that a hero might have been able to actually give her an answer. It was my initial guess that he was a mercenary sir, however, like I made mention of in my report, he did not kill the robbers, nor did he take them from the scene. In addition, not a single penny was missing from the vault. ...And now with his words, I cannot make any guesses at his true intentions. I am completely at a loss. I... apologize for not being able to give you something more concrete."
Joan dipped her head.
But in doing so, she missed the way the commissioner's eyes lit up. He snorted. "Are you kidding? This tells us quite a bit."
"Sir?" Joan cocked her head in confusion. She wasn't following. But Roland swiveled his chair and stared out the office's window, which overlooked a wide intersection bustling with people. He watched this for a time before speaking.
"Tell me, Joan. The firearms the main perpetrators were using, they were military grade automatics, correct?"
Joan nodded her head slowly at the question. "Yes. We ID'd them and, unsurprisingly, they were being possessed illegally."
"Even a police officer wouldn't think twice about killing in self-defense against an opponent like that," he said. "The fact that none of those perpetrators were killed, already sets our masked person of interest apart from other vigilantes. I have no idea what this 'non-hero' comment means, but perhaps it's an important enough distinction to set him apart from someone who just wants to play dress up. Either way, despite having a justified reason, he didn't kill."
Joan's eyes widened, her mouth already moving in a frenzy. "S-Sir, surely you aren't suggesting we let him do whatever he wants? Morals aside, he's still taking the law into his own—"
"Will you shut up for a second, Officer Joan." He had turned back towards her, giving her a raised eyebrow.
Her entire body stiffened, and she realized what she had just done. Her gaze met the floor and an uncomfortable silence ensued. She was prepared for more admonishment and maybe even a punishment for speaking out of turn, but Roland simply sighed.
"If you were to let me finish, you would have understood."
She bobbed her head up and down mutely.
"Completely ignoring the fact that his actions on the surface looked like vigilantism and that he was wearing a mask... officially, he's just someone who broke a few laws. Public endangerment. Second or third-degree assault. It could be argued that it was self-defense, however he still attacked five men and left them with rather serious injuries. ...And that's not even counting the fact that he might have trespassed into a city building from an unauthorized entry point."
Joan was about to protest again, as she wasn't hearing anything that proved what she said wrong, but she didn't want to risk another scolding, so she bit the inside of her cheek. Roland saw this, and his words turned a bit more direct.
"If we see him, we will detain and bring him in for questioning. But so far, his record is light. If he's lucky and stays low, this won't blow up in his face. Now, are you going to argue with me about that too?"
Joan flushed and hurriedly looked down. "N-No sir."
"Ah, that reminds me. How is the press taking him?" Roland suddenly asked. "I doubt he was just swept under the rug as a robber gone rouge."
Joan took a breath to steady herself and clasped her hands behind her back.
She too had been wondering about that initially, and already had investigated how the major news sites were spinning their stories.
"Actually, various news crews went with that narrative initially, perhaps out of a personal refusal to acknowledge what happened, due to the incident's... believably. However, unironically, several of the victims saved during the event in question spoke heavily in the masked man's defense. This was recorded live, and... perhaps, as you can imagine, this changed public opinion quite a bit. The press had no choice but to take a different view how they were looking at him."
Roland scoffed with a roll to his eyes, his feelings regarding the complete one-eighty made clear. "Of course they did. They would do anything to ride the wave."
"Some, of course, are calling him a reckless fool and a criminal, but there are those hailing him as a hero who did what the police couldn't. Also, this is despite the man's comment being known to the public. Naturally, some are making it out to be him just being modest, or that he intentionally said it to stir public opinion on him. Either way, it's working, and people can't stop talking about..." Joan sighed. "...Mask."
She was expecting that tidbit of information to cause Roland displeasure, but she was surprised when all she got was the thoughtful look on his face. It turned inquisitive when he caught Joan staring. "Something on her mind, officer?"
Joan stammered, initially at a loss for words but she cleared her throat and recovered.
"If I may sir, it's just... you're the police commissioner. I would think... that of all people wanting to cement the idea the police don't need to rely on... masked vigilantes... you would be the one shouting the loudest. But..."
"You're confused as to why I'm not issuing a manhunt, flaming pitchfork in hand, for a blond-haired stylish gentleman?" Roland asked, finishing for her.
Joan's face cramped at the way he said it, but she nodded wordlessly. Roland let out a deep breath, an inexplicable expression lighting up his features. Although, she thought he looked... amused?
"Right now, this 'Mask' is just someone who did a good thing. What happens next, and whether we must use force in the future, is up to him. We can't be everywhere at once, so even if he does pop up again, we won't know until the very moment he is seen with that odd disguise of his. And in this city, blond hair isn't exactly rare, so there's that too."
He smiled at her, but for some reason, Joan had a feeling he wasn't looking into her eyes, but rather way past her.
"For everyone's sake, let's just hope..."
His finger dropped on the front page of the file. He pushed it outward on the desk, silently appraising it as much as he was showing Joan—at least, that's the impression she got.
Of the two pages, the one there was the picture of the man in question, or rather, a screenshot from the bank's camera footage of the day he appeared.
Specifically, it was a close up of him but angled from his side. There, his blond hair was visible, just as half of the mask's smile was.
Roland let out a tired exhale.
"Let's hope that he's a good person."
…
…
…
I am most assuredly a bad person.
Alex stared at his work with a raised eyebrow.
To anyone watching, he must look like a total bastard.
Judging by the glares he was getting by everyone who walked past him, this was most definitely the case. Although, by now, shouldn't someone had come to have a word with him? He guessed they just really didn't care. After all, in the grand scheme of things, he wasn't doing anything illegal.
He was just... lightly bullying someone who couldn't fight back or run away.
Ah, but since it was for a justified reason, it was okay.
Alex just finished thoroughly taping a very small square of paper on a middle school boy's forehead.
"Sir, I said I was sorry. What are you doing?" the boy sobbed, having completely lost the will to fight.
"Oh, don't even worry about it, kid. I already forgave you. But after what you did, I'm feeling like I need a favor. You mind helping me out?"
"But I—"
"Oh man, guess I'll have to call the police after all. What was the number again? So hard to remember. Pretty sure it started with an eight."
"You're stupid! It's a nine! Nine-One-One! I got involved with a stupid person!"
"Correction, you tried to steal the wallet of a stupid person, which admittedly doesn't make sense, but you get the point. Stealing is a very serious crime young man. You won't get jail time, sure, but I'm thinking they'll fine you. Now, exactly how pissed do you think your parents will be after paying 5K because you got a little greedy? Hm?"
"Five K?! You mean five thousand?! It wouldn't be that much, you're lying!"
Alex was very much lying.
"Oh, I don't know. The laws work for a reason, don't they?"
That seemed to trump him, even if it shouldn't have, because changing from him, he started glaring at the floor instead. He kicked at the sidewalk violently, before letting out a sound Alex assumed was a growl.
"—ine."
"Whoa, my seventeen-year-old self must be getting old, 'cause I can barely hear you. What was that, little boy?" Alex asked with a grin the wrong side of amused. Honestly, he was most assuredly not a good person. Not when he was having this much fun.
"I said fine! You stupid dumb basta—"
Alex rose an eyebrow and the boy's words died in his throat and he shut his mouth. The fire in his eyes left him.
"Good. Now, you see that lady over there on the phone? I want you to walk up to her and say the words I tell you, kay?"
He turned his head to look at the woman Alex initially pointed out.
Even before the kid tried to nab his wallet, he had his eyes on the woman. Not for any malicious intentions, well—maybe that was debatable, but he had a chance and wanted to see how it would play out.
The woman—looking to be in mid-thirties—had dark skin and a very colorful outfit. From what he had been able to gather, she was the type that did not take anything from anybody, and by that, he wasn't referring to materialistic things.
This wasn't him making assumptions based on the color of her skin and preconceived notions about her race.
No, his guess came from the fact that she was on the phone.
He had actually been listening to her for the past hour and his interest had remained peaked ever since. Anyway, she was loud. Even the distance between them and the crowded sidewalk did not do anything to deafen her voice.
"Do it then! Come over, see what happens! If I catch YO~ BITCHASS anywhere near my children, I'll knock yo~ ass on the street! ...Okay?! Snitch on me then! See if I fucking care! ...Oh don't give me none that, 'I paid the rent that one time'—havin' ass. We all know, the only reason you stuck around is to claim their little asses 'round tax time. ...Don't you lie to me Darnell!"
There was a long pause.
"...Hmph. Yeah, I believe you. Just like I believed yo~ LYING ASS when you said that skank from work was just a friend! Play with me Darnell! PLAY. WITH. ME. See what happens—"
And she just kept going.
Alex struggled to hold in his laughter, but he was able to reign it in.
He turned towards the middle school boy.
The thief was still looking at the woman with a mollified expression, a face that told Alex he did not know what he was watching, nor did he understand why he was told to look at her.
"Remember what I said earlier, kid? Go to her and repeat after me."
Before the boy could even pale at the fact that he needed to go within range of woman that looked like she would kill him with a single backhand, Alex was already leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
"...W-Why do you want me to say that—and what did you tape to my forehead?!" he cried. Beyond anything else in the middle schooler's expression, confusion was the easiest to see.
But Alex simply shook his head.
"Ah~, ah~, ah~. Little thieves don't get to ask questions. Now, accept your punishment like a good little boy." He ruffled the kid's head for effect.
The boy looked like he wanted to argue, but he visibly deflated.
With a single sigh, he trudged up to the woman, pushing through numerous people to get to her. Alex saw him approach, and the woman looked up from her phone with a mild expression.
He even thought he heard her say "Whatchu need little boy?", but Alex might just be drawing too much from how she was talking on the phone.
However, it was at that exact moment that her eyes squinted, likely reading the words written on the boy's head.
But before she could even react, the boy said his line, and as if a god was looking down on Alex, he heard it perfectly from beyond the hustle and bustle of the ground.
"U-Um, Miss, are you my new mommy?"
That, coupled with the fact that he had a square on his forehead that read: HE'S YOURS NOW BITCH, there was only one reaction the woman could take, who's phone hand had dropped to her side as she stared at the middle schooler with a flabbergasted look.
Alex tried to hold it in.
He had to.
"OH HELLLLL NAAAAAHHH! DARNELL?! IS THIS YOU?! YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE! THIS BOY LOOKS FOURTEEN! JUST HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAVE SNEAKING AROUND YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT! ...NO! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT! YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK I'M TALKING ABOUT! OKAY! YOU KNOW WHAT?! IF YOU LIKE TO PLAY GAMES SO MUCH, LETS SEE HOW YOU BOUNCE YOUR ASS OUT OF GETTING SERVED IN COURT!"
Alex completely lost it.
He burst out laughing, and it rang so loud and genuine that before long he started crying. He clutched at his stomach for dear life as he was literally heaving and guffawing like a freak.
He must have turned a lot of heads, especially considering he completely gave up standing and landed on his back, laughing into the air.
Of course, people started to steer clear of him.
Oh man...
He began to settle down a bit, and even wiped another tear from his eye. He even saw the boy trudging back to him with a pissed off expression. The paper was in his hands. The middle school kid didn't hesitate to flip him the bird.
I'm definitely going to hell.
However, the smile never left Alex's face.
…
…
…
Joan turned on her blinker and took a left.
Her police car slowly strode into the populated lot and she had to be extremely cognizant of the numerous people milling about. They were all kids—children. Well, children to her. Specifically, they were all in the midst of their teens.
Some wore backpacks. Some wore shoulder bags. Some were dressed smartly, and some looked like they came out of the nearest thrift store. They were all lively though.
At least that was the impression Joan got as they walked in droves—some by themselves—towards the school building a distance aways.
But even those who were by themselves had a productive look about them, walking to wherever it is they needed to go. The school day was still in effect, so it was likely that their minds hadn't shut off just yet.
As much as people gripe about school and what comes with it, such as waking up god knows how early and forcing a pencil in someone's hand—it actually does breed an efficient environment to get things done.
As an adult looking at all of this, Joan was able to see that now.
Ah, what I wouldn't give to only have to worry about a group project or studying for a test...
Yes. Joan's current worries were a bit... tenser, to say the least, even by an employed woman's standards.
She had to worry about parole violations, enforcing parking demerits, public order, dangerous situations. Right, and she couldn't forget the worst among them.
Paperwork.
Joan shivered as she remembered the all nighter she had just pulled in order to compile her most recent report.
A reflexive yawn escaped her lips, and she squeezed her car into a parking spot right in front of the school's entrance.
I can't say it was boring though...
Joan definitely couldn't, not when the subject matter was straight out of fiction.
Her little brother would freak knowing that a masked man in a suit and tie had appeared in an active hostage situation and resolved it in its entirety with little to no difficulty—that is of course, if the twelve-year-old superhero enthusiast hadn't already caught wind of it already.
But still, to be able to do something so... so... fantastical, what does someone have to do? How long do they have to train?
As a police officer, Joan's thoughts instantly turned out as such.
This 'Mask' had to have rigorously maintained a routine of constant exercise and skill application. She even assumed it had to be psychological as well. She had seen the bank's tapes. There was only one time the masked individual was caught off guard, and it was when one of the armed assailants had snaked behind one of the hostages.
Now, Joan had to watch what happened next multiple times before she finally accepted what she saw.
Five movements.
Five movements happened in the span of just two seconds, no—barely less than two seconds.
That was all it took for his opponent's consciousness to be briefly obstructed, weapon stolen, used against him, and then thrown at someone else—someone who was so dangerously close to using a civilian as leverage.
Was it luck that he hit his target, or was the opposite true?
She found that believing the latter was much more terrifying to believe, because once again, it was brought full circle. What did someone have to go through to obtain such an illogical show of ability?
Thinking of this is going to get me nowhere... Her brow wrinkled and a wave of exhaustion hit her, causing her head to fall forward in a slump.
BEEP!
"Ah!" Joan let out a cry of surprise as the car horn suddenly came to life. Startled, her head shot up, and it was just in time to see several kids spinning her way with confused and albeit slightly alarmed expressions on their faces through her front window.
A group of girls even took the time to glare at her.
She really couldn't blame them.
Nice going, you're really cementing yourself as a responsible adult to the impressionable youths...
Joan simply bore it with an apologetic smile.
She exited her car, resolving herself to at least apologize since she would have to walk past them in order to get into the building, however, when she approached them, they suddenly all tensed in unison.
Not even a second later, they shuffled away towards the school's entrance, causing Joan to falter mid-step.
Okay, that's odd. ...I don't look THAT scary, do I?
Joan was wearing her police outfit and even her assortment of gear around her waist: mace, radio, police baton, detachable tazer, and other odds and ends of the job. She actually decided to forgo bringing in her gun because, well, it seemed like that would cause even more unrest.
Alas, even though Joan was confused and disheartened by the girl's behavior, she had no choice but to let it go.
She proceeded forward, intent on following them in, but her attention was taken by something she had briefly overlooked—or rather, someone.
One of them still lingered outside, one she did not see immediately because of the way said person was sitting down on a concrete bench, having been hidden behind the backs of the standing girls.
Thus, Joan instantly assumed it was another female, but as she got closer, she realized she was wrong. In fact, she felt rather embarrassed because of the mistake she had just made.
Ah, oops.
Sure, the boy's face looked slightly effeminate, and the way his blond bangs hung over his eyes likely gave way to her misconceptions, but... that was mainly because the dirty blond of his hair was dripping wet.
...Huh?
A fact that she just now processed.
"Hm, well, that's certainly not the reaction I was expecting," he muttered, just loud enough to reach her ears.
Joan figured that he didn't even realize she was within ear shot, something that largely had to do with his obscured vision.
After a moment of indecision, she decided to rectify that, announcing her presence to the boy with a cough. "Excuse me, young man?"
His head twitched, turning in her direction, and he then raised his sleeved white shirt, his hands pushing the blond strands away from his eyes, revealing them to her.
Hazel.
Joan blinked in surprise, the eye color startling her. With blond hair, blue eyes were typically the most common, weren't they? She certainly hadn't been expecting such a light shade of brown, bordering on gold.
Honestly, it was a bit mystifying.
"You know, usually, maintaining heavy eye contact with someone younger than you AND of the opposite sex gets you reported."
A flippant voice snapped her out of her reverie, causing her face to turn hot. The boy was looking at her with a single arched eyebrow accompanied by an apathetic gaze.
His reaction and her subsequent embarrassment were of course due to the fact she had been staring intently at him for a good thirty seconds.
Her, a twenty-four-year-old woman of the law, and him, a teenager who likely hadn't even seen his eighteenth birthday yet.
Realizing such, Joan would have questioned why the boy didn't look more offended—more than the casual look he was currently expressing—that is, if she wasn't more concerned over trying to reign in her growing mortification.
I'm an adult. I'm a grown woman. I'm not going to let a teenager fluster me.
She repeated this like a mantra in her head, if only to convince herself that she was no longer the same socially awkward girl that would take the long way to class just because Brandon and Melissa were exchanging spit down the hall.
Yes.
She was better than that now.
She would not become tongue-tied just because some kid with an ounce of sass managed to call her out.
So, Joan gave a single cough, and it took everything within her not to avert her eyes when she spoke.
"Can I ask why your hair is soaking wet? Those girls... did they have anything to do with it?" she asked, choosing to ignore the boy's jab, bringing the conversation to where it needed to be directed, and perhaps whether or not she needed to track down those girls and issue light warnings.
Of course, that was all she really could do.
Splashing water on someone was hardly grounds for jail-time, or even a fine, but still, as a police officer, her job was to ensure order, to the best of her ability at least.
That's why Joan asked the youth her question as tentatively as she could.
Still, if he chose to say nothing in fear of escalating the situation further than what he was comfortable with, she wouldn't be able to do anything to help him.
She didn't get to be a police officer and not start to hate the ever-present rule of: snitches get stitches. So, her expression fell, thinking the boy would clam up.
Joan was wrong.
In fact, she would find herself wrong quite a bit in the next few hours.
"Oh, those girls? Yeah, just dumped a bottle over my head out of nowhere. Pretty sure that's bullying," the boy said with an infuriating degree of indifference that spat on all the assumptions she had formed in her head about him thus far. And furthermore, he did it with that same apathetic look in his eyes.
Joan could only blink, a silence encompassing between the two of them, quiet enough for her to hear the numerous indistinct conversations continuing to flow unhindered around them.
"You..."
The boy cocked his head slightly in question to Joan's unfinished sentence, but it didn't matter as she truly was at a loss for words.
Now, Joan wasn't the be all end all on the inner workings of males, but she could at least confidently say that men operated under one of the seven deadly sins more often than not.
Pride.
It was through this sin that they didn't like to show weakness—physical or emotional. This was the case for other men and went doubly so for women. That's the kind of men Joan was used to dealing with at least. Although, she wanted to ignore the fact that this experience came from time in the interrogation room at the precinct.
I'm suddenly feeling a little out of my depth here. Nonetheless, for her own sanity, she continued the conversation along.
"You say... out of nowhere. Can you really not think of anything that might have caused them to... get... physical?"
It was only then that Joan realized what she was doing, effectively trying to discern the possible motives for why a high school girl dumped water on a high school guy.
She could liken this even further to taking a toddler to court after hearing him yelling the word 'hooker' at the first woman he saw.
Joan's eyes glazed over.
The conversation she was having hours prior about masked men and bank robberies seemed like a distant past.
But she was in too deep now to call it quits.
She fought the urge to hang her head, and instead awaited the boy's response.
The boy, unaware of her internal dilemma, hummed slightly while fiddling with his wet bangs. "Your guess is as good as mine, officer. I for one, can't claim to understand why your kind does anything."
What?
She wasn't sure how to react to that, not that she was given the time to do so as the boy continued on.
"I mean, all I did was greet one of them. Next thing I know, their faces suddenly scrunch up and then this happens." He gestured to himself, where despite the accusatory words, and even the water still dripping down his chin, he didn't seem very annoyed or exasperated. This confused her to no end.
"And... what did you say to her, exactly?"
"Called her by her name. Emitt," the boy said, without missing a beat.
Joan blinked.
"...Was her name actually Emitt?"
"..."
"Well?"
The boy had frozen up and she could see his eyes narrowing in realization. He suddenly found her gaze and matched it with his mouth in a clear 'o' shape. "...You know, now that I think of it, it might have been something different. Ah, damn. No wonder she moved her desk so far apart from me yesterday..."
So this was a reoccurring thing... Joan concluded, sighing. Was this what her job as a police officer entailed? She wished it wasn't so as she looked at the boy. The gears were obviously turning in his head given the far off look in his eyes.
"Ah, what was it? Emilia? No. Emma...? No. Emily, er... Eliza...?" He went through the names one by one, seemingly determined to go through all of them in front of her. "I am certain it started with an 'E'."
Joan's sigh came out even greater this time.
It seemed the quality of teenage boys had exponentially decreased in her years away from school. Now she felt bad for scaring those girls away, even if it had all been unintentional from the start.
"Yeah, well, don't hurt yourself trying to remember..." she snarked, way too exhausted by this entire conversation to suppress any sarcasm that leaked out.
But Joan didn't have to worry about the boy taking any offense, because her comment was completely misinterpreted.
"Ah, you're right. If I forgot it, it probably wasn't very important to begin with," he responded with a genuine look of relief on his face.
"T-That's not—!"
She made to fix the boy's rotten assumption, but after a sharp exhale, she gave up, deciding to change the subject. "Class. Don't you have class?"
By the way he suddenly skillfully avoided her gaze, she guessed he most certainly did. "...Maybe."
"Then shouldn't you be attending...?" Joan urged along.
"I would like to, but sadly I can't." He looked her squarely in the eyes. "I'm being a diligent citizen and cooperating with local law enforcement with any questions they might have. There's no way I can go to class and shirk such an important duty."
"So you're stalling," she said, not as a question, but a statement of fact.
"Indeed I am."
He finally smiled for real this time, and it looked a bit strange considering how his hair was still dripping, thus, making her recall the reason all of this had started.
Those girls, and now her... this was all just a game to him, wasn't it? Was he simply amusing himself to pass the time? She was really starting to dislike this kid. Was it too late to act like she never saw him?
"Go to class," Joan said, a bit more forcefully this time.
"Can you escort me? I might get lost." The boy raised an eyebrow, simultaneously offering an elbow.
Joan bit the back of her teeth.
If it was anyone else, she would have thought she was being hit on, but she knew that wasn't the case with this boy.
She had been wrong earlier.
She assumed he would be the type to remain silent and not give her anything, but she had forgotten that there were people even worse than that—the ones who thought the whole world was their playground.
Like so many perps she's seen, this kid liked to push people's buttons just for the simple reason that he could. It was an incredibly infuriating personality to deal with.
"I'm sure you've heard this before, but you're a very rotten person, aren't you?"
He feigned hurt. "That's no way to treat a struggling high school student. Plus, aren't you paid by the hour? I'm just helping you earn your paycheck. If anything, you should be thanking me."
Joan's brow twitched as she grabbed his arm, leading him into the building. "Don't think I haven't seen people like you a thousand times. You're having fun, right? Same with those girls from earlier. Forgetting names, seeing their reactions makes you satisfied, right?"
He raised a single brow and chuckled.
"Am I getting interrogated right now? Just because I couldn't remember redhead's name doesn't mean I'm some sort of sociopathic hedonist." The boy waved his hand dismissively.
Joan was about to agree begrudgingly to this logic, and that she might be overreacting a little. Maybe the stress of her job was getting to her, and she was just taking it out on the first person she could.
But she stopped, realizing something.
She turned to the boy and gave him a flat look. "None of the girls in that group had red hair."
Now it was his turn to stop. He blinked at her several times.
"They didn't?"
The look of surprise on his face made her want to push him down a flight of stairs—her oath to protect and serve be damned.
A few infuriating minutes later—jokes and snide personality abundant in this time—they eventually passed through the entrance and began walking through the halls, passing droves of students as they did so.
Joan soon realized that she, a police officer, was causing quite the scene by walking through the school while holding on to the arm of a high school student.
Looks were sent their way, with everyone murmuring and muttering to each other as they strode by.
But, even though this would be a literal walk of shame to any teenager in their right mind, being seen and judged by others their own age, that wasn't the case here.
The boy she was with looked utterly unbothered by the circumstances.
As Joan had guessed—as they walked and the boy was seen by his peers, he didn't look ashamed in the slightest. No, even by looking at the expressions of those around her, they didn't look surprised, but rather exasperated. This boy obviously had a reputation here.
Joan looked at the boy who was coyly waving to the onlookers with nigh amusement on his face. She interrupted this with a question she had forgotten to ask. "And? What's your name? If I'm escorting you to where you need to go, I should at least know that first."
"It's Alex."
This prompted Joan to immediately shoot him a look. "Really, is that it? And what, no witty retort or attempt at being ridiculous? No getting me to coax it out of you?"
He looked ahead and continued walking without pause. "I don't see why I should. You asked for my name and I gave it to you. It would be rude to lie about something my mother gave me."
Joan found herself tugging at his arm abruptly, causing him to stop, and she realized it was because she herself stopped walking. A few paces in front of her, he had to turn his head back, meeting her eyes.
"What?"
She found none of the mirth she had seen in his previous attempts to rile her up.
Thus, she could only conclude that, just now...
"What are you standing around for? Ah, you're having a moment, aren't you? Are you perhaps thinking being in school again makes you feel old? Hey, lady, I wasn't going to say anything, but you're forcing my hand here. You're still young...! If I was interested in older women, I would totally go for you...!"
With a thumbs up and a grin, whatever she thought she saw was gone in an instant, making her bite the inside of her cheek. "Move." Joan grabbed him by the arm a bit more forcefully this time and pushed him forward.
"Um, Ma'am? Do I need to remind you of the laws of consent?"
She ignored the mischievous smile sent her way. "Please stop talking, and tell me what room and teacher—" Alex suddenly exaggeratedly clamped his mouth shut, and she was sure her eye twitched. "You can speak for that!"
He chuckled a bit. "Miss Albane. 102."
Her head whipped towards him, finding herself a little flummoxed at the coincidence.
After all, the reason she was here in the first place was because she wanted to visit a teacher with the same last name—not for anything serious, though.
It was more of a social visit.
Nonetheless, she was pleasantly surprised.
"Lady, when you look all happy out of nowhere like that, I'm naturally going to be a little disturbed."
Alex made such a comment, but Joan ignored it with a renewed energy. "Forget that, let's go to—...wait." She paused, letting go of the boy's arm and whirred her body around the hallway. "Room 102 is right near the entrance."
An entrance they had passed by quite a bit.
Alex looked around as well, realization on his face. "Oh, you're right."
But his mouth was twitching.
Joan sighed. "But you knew this and let me guide you around anyway."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Alex's grin came back full force.
…
…
…
102.
Kara Albane.
Joan knocked gently on the door of this particular classroom and waited for it to open.
Returning back to where the entrance was had taken around three minutes, and in the middle of that time, the school bell had rung, signifying that the next class had started. Now, the hallway she was in had been vacated completely, leaving her alone.
Well, she wasn't alone actually.
Joan turned her head, making sure the extra she had picked up hadn't vanished in the briefest moments she took her attention off him.
However, she had to be honest and admit that a small part of her was actually hoping there would be nobody behind her. Then, she could convince herself that she had done all she could to do her job dutifully, but her charge had managed to run away.
Sadly, this was a lie.
It was with no small amount of disappointment that she found Alex standing there with a smile.
He waved, not even a meter away from her.
Joan let out a quiet sigh.
I had to talk to the kid who looked like he was getting picked on...
She about-faced to the door, just in time to see it opened. Out came the curious face of a young woman, close to Joan's age. She had brown hair, and it was fashioned behind her in a ponytail. She wore a red tracksuit with white highlights and outfitted it with yoga pants and sneakers.
All around, she had the look of a PE teacher.
But it was who Joan was here to see, Kara Albane, her good friend.
Kara's expression, while confused initially, instantly changed in the following seconds as sparks of recognition proliferated through her face. And this was all the more pronounced when her lips curved upward. "Joan! I didn't know you were coming today."
"Um, I really didn't know either, and I wasn't sure whether I should come or not in case you had classes. Uh, you're not in the middle of something right now, are you? Because I can come back later." Joan's expression warmed over completely, even if her words took on a sheepish tone.
It really was a stark contrast to the no-nonsense attitude she had displayed minutes prior.
Incidentally, she completely missed the raised eyebrow from her reluctant 'companion'.
"No, no. None of that. Even if I was busy, I always have time to see you. 'Sides, the kids are reviewing on their own at the moment anyway. They're behaved enough to go without supervision..." Kara abruptly sighed, "---is what I'd like to say, if I didn't have someone who was always... skip...ping." The very last of her words had the woman's eyes suddenly trailing to the side at the person hanging behind Joan. Specifically, Alex who was leaning against a locker.
"Oh, don't let me stop you. Go on, keep going." he said, waving a hand at her.
Kara just pursed her lips.
"Alex."
"Miss K." was what came back with that signature nigh amused smile.
Joan, sensing the next question, elaborated. "I found him outside—"
"Smoking weed."
Joan blinked.
It was only after a few moments her brain caught on to what had just left the boy's mouth, her jaw dropping. She spun to face the boy, who had the gall to stand there and say that with a straight face.
Kara took it better, and it was very indicative to how well she knew him. "Were you know?" The teacher placed a hand on her hip. "Forgive me if I don't believe you. If you were, Joan would not have brought you to me. She would have brought you back to her car."
Alex's grin widened and made to open his mouth, but Kara's voice quickly came out before he could.
"And that wasn't an innuendo!"
Before things could spiral even further out of control, Joan forced thoughts into her brain and out her mouth. "Back to the point, there was a group of girls, and—"
"Like the virgin I am, I couldn't stave off the temptation of touching them inappropriately. The officer here caught my deviant and sinful behavior right in the act, saving those girls from my malicious intentions." Alex said without breaking eye contact with his teacher.
Joan actually sputtered this time.
"W-Why are you so determined to paint yourself in the worst possible light imaginable?! No one was assaulted, nor were they under the influence of drugs for that matter!"
"Isn't that a bit ignorant, Officer Joan?" Alex stressed her name. "I mean, I understand you have pride in your job, but the police can't be everywhere at once. You should take a page out of my book and humble yourself. It does wonders for the mind."
Something is definitely being done to your mind all right.
Not even pretending to hide it this time, Joan let out a long sufferable sigh, exchanging a glance with Kara, whose expression looked just as equally worn out, if not more so considering the fact that her poor friend had to deal with this... this... She couldn't even think of a word that properly conveyed how messed up Alex was.
"I am so sorry you have to deal with this every single day."
Nonetheless, she meant that from the bottom of her heart.
"So am I," Kara dully responded. "So am I."
That was all the self-pity the teacher seemed to allow however, as she snapped her fingers multiple times at the door of the classroom, looking at Alex.
It occurred to Joan that it was entirely reminiscent of a human trying to train their dog, a comparison that fit way too well.
"Alex, go inside and at least discuss with your partner who's doing what for the upcoming assignment. And please don't be... you... while you're doing it."
Alex smiled at her. "Trust me teach. I've been told I'm a people person. I got this." He gave Joan a two-finger salute before he disappeared inside the relatively quiet classroom.
A silence followed in the wake of the boy's absence and Joan had to remind herself that such moments were in fact possible, so long as there was a thick wall separating him from her. Hell, if she was being generous, she could even pretend now that because he was out of sight, mind, and sound, that he didn't exist.
However, Joan realized that would only work for one of them, prompting her to give her friend another sympathetic glance.
Kara was also enjoying the silence while it lasted, at least until she had to brave the storm and walk in that classroom.
She felt bad for thinking it, but Joan found herself more and more glad that she had NOT followed her friend into becoming a teacher. She wasn't even good with kids, let alone teenagers.
And even then, it was disrespectful to all teenagers to even refer to Alex as one.
It was the conclusion she had come to earlier, that Alex wasn't the quiet defiant type that chose rebellion over cooperation, but rather that he was talkative type that liked the sound of his own voice, wanting to take control over any given situation, and wanted as much people as possible to know it.
If I didn't know any better, I would say he was hiding something with the over-the-top way he acts. But that wouldn't make sense with all the attention he puts on himself.
Yes, if anything he was doing it wrong.
In her experience, criminals would put on a front, separating themselves between their public life and their illegal actions.
Most of the time, this had them nice and compassionate in public, but ruthless behind closed doors. It didn't make sense for Alex to be doing anything morally gray when he already acted like... well... a prick—yeah, she would go with prick—a hundred percent of the time.
Then again...
As Joan looked at the door, she wondered if she wasn't skewing things way out of proportion, and that maybe Alex was just a kid trying to find his place in the world, adopting the first personality that he thought would allow him to do so.
A defective and faulty personality, sure, but still.
Maybe she had risen to his bait too many times when she didn't need to, and he was simply a kid who wanted attention because he didn't get it. She blinked at that, and a question formed in her mind, prompting her to speak it to her friend.
"Kara?"
"Hm?"
"Alex, do you know of his home life?"
She asked that question to Kara, and she watched as the brunette stared at her in confusion, then realization, and then, her final expression being a small frown gracing her features. She opened her mouth to speak—
The classroom door opened.
"Hey, teach? It's uh, come to my attention—through no fault of my own, mind you—that I don't know who my partner is. And upon asking my dear classmates, no one would look me in the eye. Thus, I have concluded that the best course of action was to ask for the guidance of my most favorite, beautiful, and best'est teacher! So uh... who is it?"
There was Alex, who had popped his head out from the door, looking at Kara expectantly, and anything that Joan had been previously thinking immediately crashed and died a horrific death.
Her question, curiosity, and even the fledgling sense of responsibility that prompted it, were all killed in said crash, leaving no survivors.
Nope. I give up. There's no reason for this kid's messed up head. He just IS.
Joan's head fell into her hands, nursing a migraine that was steadily forming. She barely heard Kara's response of, "Emerald," which despite the tiredness beheld in that voice, it was given concisely.
The teacher had the face of someone who had seen the worst of humanity in the form of the adolescent male and continued to endure regardless.
Truly, her friend was braver than she was, willing to deal with this and likely more.
And that was saying something since Joan quite literally got shot at for a living.
Alex mouthed the name, but his brows scrunched up in confusion. It was clear he had no clue who that was supposed to be. Kara saw this and she palmed the length of her face. "The one who sits in front of you," she said.
Still nothing.
"The girl with the white dyed hair."
Alex's eyes lit up. "Oh! You mean Emmit? Why didn't you say so?"
The girl from earlier flashed in Joan's mind, and subsequently, she swore she heard a small slam from inside the classroom, along with someone groaning wantonly.
Kara whispered, "Poor girl..." before wiping her tired look and replacing it with a stern one.
"It's EM-ER-ALD," she stressed, but the boy clearly wasn't listening anymore as his head disappeared from sticking outside the door—Joan only saw him heading towards a white-haired girl whose head was firmly placed on her desk, before the door closed completely, cutting off her vision.
Poor girl indeed, Joan thought.
…
…
…
Emerald, Emerald Summers, should have known something was wrong from the very moment she woke up.
She had overslept her alarm, leaving her in quite the rush to get ready, a process that was made difficult by her groggy state.
In her haste to shower, brush her teeth, and get dressed, that left her choices of breakfast incredibly slim.
Thus, she was forced to slather some peanut butter on some bread and hope that would stave her off until lunchtime.
Then, upon finally getting to school, she had completely forgotten in her late start this morning to review for her chemistry test like she planned, making for a very unsuccessful attempt at recalling scientific jargon that she was in no state to remember even on a good day.
Add that to the fact that when she finally made it to lunch, she recalled that she had forgotten to even pack one in her hectic rush, meaning she had to make do with whatever mystery meat was being served on the menu.
And no matter how much she brought it up to the school board, she still refused to believe that SLOP was FDA approved.
So yeah.
The day had been pretty shit—excuse her language—ever since Emerald woke up.
Then to add insult to injury, she not only had the extreme misfortune of having a run in with the weird blond kid who clearly liked the sound of his own voice, but also then had to be partnered up with the complete and utter dumbass.
And that led her to the here and now.
What did I do to deserve this...?
The blond boy, Alex, was walking side by side with her, with their school building getting farther and farther away.
"Penny for your thoughts Emily? You looked stressed."
Yes, and then there was THAT.
He seemed determined to get her name wrong on EVERY SINGLE occasion. She'd think it was funny if it wasn't for the fact that she couldn't tell why he was doing it; if he was just genuinely forgetting, doing it on purpose, or just flat out deeming it pointless to remember each time she reminded him. But each of those options infuriated her to no end, causing heat to rush to her face.
"My name, you stupid moron, is Emerald," she spat out vehemently, wanting no more than to just ditch him.
But she couldn't.
They had been partnered up for an assignment and needed to establish a plan for what needed to be done.
This guy had skipped class, off doing who knows what, and thus was unable to take advantage of the time the rest of the class had.
And, since it was already after school, AND because Emerald had prior engagements to attend to at her house, she had to—BEGRUDGINGLY—agree to take him home with her.
Luckily, her mom and sister would be there, and she wouldn't do something as stupid as locking herself in a room with him.
They would arrive, discuss things in the living room, and she would send him on his way. Quick and painless.
But.
Emerald had to get there first, dealing with him until that happened.
"I'm calling bullshit on that one, lady. No sane parent would name their child 'Emerald'," Alex pointed out doubtfully, but then he paused, giving her a more appraising eye. "Actually, that probably says it all..."
She was sure that was an insult just now, but she didn't have the energy to call him out for it. "You are so weird..." she muttered instead, sparing him a glance before quickening her pace a bit so she was walking ahead of him.
The last thing she needed was people to think they were together in ANY way, shape, or form.
If Alex was hurt by this, he certainly didn't show it. From the corner of her eyes, she even saw his hands cross behind his head. "You might be right about that," he said. "But you know, life wouldn't be much fun if I tried to get everyone's approval."
What is he even talking about?
Emerald cocked a brow at him, wondering if he wasn't still messing with her with such response, but he didn't elaborate, choosing to flash his signature unbothered-by-literally-anything-smile, waving her off.
"Ignore me. Now, what's the plan for the assignment, Eclaire."
Without missing a beat, a new name had been granted to her, causing Emerald to sigh.
She scratched the back of her head rather violently before acquiescing to his question. "Fine. I'll summarize the reading and write out the thesis statements. All you have to do is find visuals to go along with—hey, you're not even listening!"
Her patience suddenly snapped as she found Alex not even looking at her. He was looking beyond her somewhere, off into the distance.
His expression was a far cry from his usual non-plussed self, but Emerald hadn't paid any attention to that—no, only the urge to admonish him fueled by her festering irritation.
What's the point of even doing this if he's not even paying attention! This anger clouded her judgement, so she also completely missed the way he tensed up.
"I swear Alex, if you—!"
"Emerald, get back...!"
Alex's voice completely deafened hers, and she was so caught up in the change in tone that she barely processed that he said her actual name.
This was especially the case when he, abruptly and to her immense confusion, reached out towards her with a face marred with an emotion that looked odd on him. He looked—well, he looked pissed, genuinely pissed off.
Huh?
But something else stole her attention.
A high pitch squealing assaulted her ears from the right, and her head whipped around just in time to see a black van skid in front of her. Its sudden appearance startled her, having seemingly come from nowhere.
But before she could even process what was happening, the door to the van slid open and two men clambered out. They looked to be adults—certainly not teenagers like her. Beyond that, the only other distinguishing features she was able to make out were that they were both wearing the same two accessories over their faces: red bandana and black shades.
Emerald's stomach was already churning with fear at these unknown arrivals, but her danger sense went off like crazy as they both flanked her, not wasting any time grabbing her by the arms and pulling her towards the vehicle.
"St—!"
And it finally dawned on her what was happening.
"S-Stop! Let me go! Lemme gooooooOOOOOOO!" She screamed, bucked, and kicked, thrashing around. But this just caused the men to squeeze her limbs tighter, effectively making her struggle pointless. With the combination of two grown men between her, there was almost no way she would be able to break out of their grip.
Her feet even left the ground at times, giving her a weakening feeling she hadn't once felt since she was younger.
This terrified her.
"H-Help! Someone hel—!"
It was only then that she was reminded that she had not been by herself.
This came in the form of Alex tearing into the left side of her vision, kicking behind the knee of the adult who held her left arm.
The man clearly hadn't expected it, as was evident from him suddenly losing power in one of his legs, buckling down to one knee.
Emerald's heart soared at this and her efforts to wrench herself out of the slightly weakened grip doubled.
However, even with one having faltered, there was still the issue of the other adult far older than her who still wasn't letting go in the slightest.
In fact, her oppressor changed his grip on her the moment Alex had struck. The man was now wrapping his arms around her stomach, effectively putting her in a bear hug, dragging her to the van along with him all the while.
She instantly felt a wave of disgust as her back pressed into the older man's chest, especially as she got a whiff of his putrid breath that smelled like cigarettes.
However, this new position allowed her to see Alex more clearly. That is, with a fistful of the downed man's hair in one hand, he unhesitatingly drove a knee straight into their face.
The violent action was met with a sickening sound of flesh creaking, and despite how much the action disturbed her, Emerald had to admit she got a small amount of satisfaction from seeing the man's nose bursting like a geyser with the blood that came out.
Although, that was probably the adrenaline of the situation kicking in.
She even began to think she could get out of this situation.
With the combined efforts of Alex fighting—something she didn't even know he could do—and her trying to escape, they could at the very least run away.
However, this hope that had steadily began to rise in her chest died as something appeared in the corner of her vision.
Emerald's eyes widened as a third man came out of the van, mid dash.
But he passed right by her struggling form in favor of the one and only threat preventing them from doing whatever it was they intended to do.
This man, dressed in the same getup as those that came before him, ran straight towards Alex, who had his back turned. "Alex!" She screamed, only to immediately feel a large meaty hand clamp over her mouth, preventing anything else from leaving her mouth.
Alex's head whipped in her direction, and he was abruptly made aware of the danger. To his credit, rather than fear, Emerald saw him just widen his eyes. Just like her, he hadn't expected their attackers to have one more person on reserve. Nonetheless, his eyes changed to their usual size, where his brows quirked in annoyance.
But then that gaze suddenly lowered, and his entire face tightened.
Emerald didn't understand what the boy was looking at for a moment, but she too lowered her gaze, and she saw it. Held aloft near the man's waist, just barely concealed by the sleeve of his red hoodie, was a black device.
Its identity escaped her, and she realized all too late what it was.
Not that knowing would have stopped what was happening.
Alex tried to backpedal away from the man was coming at him too fast with a concealed weapon of some kind, but something else suddenly went wrong.
Dread filled her as two hands latched onto the boy's leg, preventing him from moving.
It was the kidnapper with the bloody nose.
If Alex wasn't rushed, he might have been able to shake the man off, but he was not in the position to do that.
Thus, Emerald could do nothing but watch as the black object was thrust right into the exposed stomach of the reeling Alex.
The effect was instantaneous.
There was no horrific squelching noise or drawn blood connected to the blond boy's white long-sleeved shirt, nor was there a loud pop of any kind—no, just the grating sound of electricity sparking in the air.
The handheld taser was discharged of all it was capable of into Alex's unprotected flesh.
Immediately, a pained gasp erupted from the boy's throat along with his facial features twisting in no small amount of discomfort.
And no sooner had it activated did Alex's body completely seize, and all it took from the bandanna wearing man who had attacked him was a single push before the blond was on the ground; his entire body moving erratically.
"Mphfff!" Emerald screamed but it was muffled due to the hand on her mouth. But it was with this that the man holding her seemed to realize he had a job to do. He continued to pull her backwards, now mere steps from the van door. She continued to struggle even if she knew it was pointless.
Now there was three men, one of them had a weapon, and the only person who had bothered to help her was now seizing on the ground with pained grunts.
The man with the tazer loomed over Alex's state, and she thought she heard him scoff before he about-faced, heading straight towards the van; towards her. Additionally, the man Alex briefly wounded—bleeding nose and all—flanked him.
Emerald's fear began to double, no, triple, as the men pushed her into the van despite her desperate attempts to catch the walls of the vehicle with her legs.
It was to no avail, however, as the next action taken was a rather hard-hitting shove that briefly knocked the wind out of her, sending her flying into the dark van headfirst. Pain erupted in her mind as she collided with the other side, her vision instantly becoming woozy.
Still, Emerald lifted her head up, taking everything within her to do so. She fought the darkening of her vision and tried to get up and escape, but the three of them clambered in after her, rendering any attempt fruitless.
They're... kidnapping me.
That thought, which so plainly summed up her situation, scared the hell out of her.
And it was a fear so pronounced and visceral that it made her stomach flop, and she even felt the urge to throw up.
Emerald's fists clenched tightly against the cold metal floor of the van, and it made her realize how hard it was to do even that.
Her body felt weak, fragile.
Fight or flight had long kicked in but doing either had become near impossible.
Her head began to throb, and darkness swam in her vision just as white splotches began to appear as well. Emerald could feel an unearthly pull driving her closer and closer to unconsciousness.
As one final act of movement, her head began to dip towards the ground, the darkness threatening to claim all her senses entirely.
But.
"Heeeeyyyyyy? Fuckers? M-Mind if you stay for a few? I've gotta ask? How much did Daddy hit you to be doing shit like this?"
At first, Emerald hadn't even recognized what she was hearing was proper noise.
This was because it sounded so far away, so out there, and she automatically convinced herself it was as pointless a sound as the wind, or even the low humming of the vehicle she was in.
But it was the strange sounds that made her think otherwise, enough to momentarily halt her consciousness, not enough to look up in any way shape or form, but just to strain her ears to listen.
Emerald heard short breathy gasps coming from several feet in front of her.
Her head titled the slightest bit, trying to get a look at where the noise was coming from. This was accompanied by—just like her ears—her eyes straining as well.
"I-Is this what picking up chicks amounts to these days?"
She heard a wheeze, followed by what was clearly a voice slurring.
"Be...—cause I'm fairly certain, the pieces of SHIT back then didn't mean it quite so... literally. You're kinda... skipping the whole hah, hah—consent part. Oh...!" A slight gasp. "H-Ha ha, my mistake. I get it, some people are just too fucking ugly for that. Hey, hah, how's it feel... to be over-compensating that much?"
Emerald's vision, shaky at first, finally put a face to the pained voice she was hearing, and from that, a name.
Keeled over, leaning on the ground with his elbows, was Alex—the grinning face of the boy she couldn't stand, canines visible, even as they clattered repeatedly.
He had been electrocuted, and was thusly still spasming in place, but beyond the clear strain she saw as a result, that was all.
He wasn't howling in pain, nor was he crying.
Just like always, he was smiling with an expression that signified he wanted to piss of as many people as possible.
What is... he doing...?
Despite Emerald's state, worry tinged her quivering form. Surely he wasn't trying to get a rise out of her kidnappers? Was he not scared at all?
She stared at him in a daze, eyes blinking but not fully employing any outward feeling or emotion beyond her simple lack of understanding. But just as Alex's words had pulled her from passing out, even as her head threatened to make this a certainty, so too did it catch the attention of the ones next to her.
Emerald's hearing got better, and she was able to hear one of them audibly click their tongue. It was nearly impossible to turn her head to see who it was, but she found the answer as someone stepped out of the van and approached Alex.
It was the same one who tazed him, one who she just consciously realized had brown hair swept to the left, a hairstyle that tugged at the back of her mind for some reason.
Regardless, his intentions were clear when he kicked the boy in the side of the head almost instantly, causing Alex to let out another grunt of pain.
"Ke—I mean, dude. Get back in the van. Fuck that guy! Let's go!"
This voice, someone Emerald could not readily see, was accompanied by a pained drawl, so he assumed it was the guy with the bleeding nose.
Either way, this 'K' person—her brain somehow present enough to realize the man had almost shouted a name—clearly showed no signs of listening to his partners in crime.
Or maybe she was wrong about that, and he would have, if Alex didn't open his mouth again, drawing her fluttering eyelids to him. She noticed him gritting his teeth, and a bruise beginning to appear where he was struck.
"Yeah, listen to your boyfriend, 'dude'. Was he the one who picked your outfit to—o? You know, it's really brave that gay couples nowadays can we—hah, hah—wear matching bandanas with no shame. Oh, but I guess there's three of you, huh? Kidnapping a girl, even though you got a man? Man, bisexuals sure are horny these da—guhh!"
Alex was shut up with yet another kick to the face, this time making him roll over on his back. Yet the kidnapper known only to her as 'K' didn't stop as he then kicked him thrice in succession, all near his ribs.
Emerald wanted to scream for him to stop, but that didn't even happen—her voice rendered to unintelligible groaning instead.
It was only after the final kick she heard 'K' speak.
"Do you not realize the situation you're in, huh?! Do you want me to fucking kill you?!" In a voice that demonstrated the raw anger he was feeling, Emerald momentarily put that on the back burner in favor of a much more important realization.
The voice; she found it a bit familiar.
But unfortunately, she couldn't place it to anyone she recognized immediately just by looking at the only distinguishing physical trait she could see—his brown hair. Again, maybe she could have recognized it instantly, but her head trauma was likely the main reason she couldn't.
Emerald thought 'K' was done, but she was wrong as he suddenly began straddling Alex, cocking his fist back and hitting him again and again.
She couldn't see all too well because 'K's back was facing her, but she was able to hear flesh meeting flesh, and it was even more unnerving than any of the other damage she witnessed Alex experience.
It was only then did an out of place feeling begin to gnaw at her—and with this, a conclusion.
This was her fault.
A crippling despair enveloped her.
Even as Alex raised his hands to defend himself, even as he tried his best to protect his bruised, beaten, throttled, straining, and electrocuted body—in the back of her mind, Emerald came to the realization that all of his pain could be traced back to her.
And as much as it simultaneously relieved and disgusted her that one of her other friends wasn't in the place of Alex, that still didn't stop the gut-wrenching guilt tearing her up.
"You always act like a big shot wherever you go, with that fucking self-satisfied smile on your face like you're secretly laughing at everyone. Well?! Who's laughing now!?" A low mutter came from 'K' turned into a full-blown screech, and Emerald could barely put together what was said.
More than that, all she could do was watch hopelessly, absolutely terrified, as Alex's hands weakly fell to his sides amidst the man's onslaught.
He had given up.
That, or he was unconscious.
This thought made her completely blind to the fact that 'K' had spoken to Alex with such hatred; hatred born not from sudden circumstance, but familiarity. But, as stated, she didn't get to process this and what it might mean—especially due to the increasing throbbing of her head.
The two leftover men in the van beside her must have got fed up with waiting, because they slammed their hands on the interior of the vehicle, and a second later, and the vehicle hummed to life—the gas making even more noise than it did when it was stationary.
That seemed to be enough of a spark to snap the wayward kidnapper out of his anger as he jumped off Alex, proceeding to give him one last kick in the stomach before hopping into the van.
Someone, in silence, or by saying something, closed the van door, cutting the sight in front of her off completely, but Emerald barely had enough consciousness to latch onto anything beyond the sound of the van's engine, her sight beginning to falter not long after.
"A—"
The very last thing Emerald saw before everything went dark, was the crumpled and beaten form of the blond boy, the snarky asshole who she would give anything to be next to right now instead of the strangers who planned to do who knows what with her.
"...—lex."
Her vision faded out in the next moment.