The group sat tight around the table, trays pushed aside. Austin's notebook lay in the center, open to that hand-drawn map. Red dots. Blue arrows. One circle, twice.
Hakim was the first to speak.
"What do you mean the balance is breaking?"
His voice was flat, but his fingers drummed once against the table.
"Exactly what I said," Austin replied, pushing his glasses up. "Or to be specific… it's _about_ to break."
He tapped two fingers on the border between East and West Brook. Everyone leaned in.
"These days the kids without schools, without factions, are being recruited by Blue High," Austin said. "They're throwing bodies at us. Numbers. Pushing our first-years back block by block."
His nail scratched against the paper.
"This is why our classmates are taking losses. And at this rate, those losses get severe." He lifted his eyes from the map. A small, sharp smile. "But that's where all of you come in."
Adrian's grin widened. Lollipop between his teeth. The thin slice on his brow from two weeks ago was still there, pink and fresh. He kicked his feet up onto the empty chair, unbothered.
"What do you want us to do, Austin?"
Austin closed his eyes. Calm. Like he'd already run this scenario ten times in his head.
"I want you all to do what you do best," he said quietly. "Fight."
Adrian's grin split wider. He pulled the lollipop out, clicked it against his teeth.
"That shouldn't be a problem for us, yeah?" He looked around the table. No one answered. They didn't need to.
Austin's smile softened. Then he looked at Payal.
"Payal, can you stay with me after? I'll need your assistance."
She blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
"Yeah," Austin said. "I can't run logistics, intel, and comms by myself."
Payal hesitated half a second. Then she nodded. "Okay."
Adrian immediately pointed the lollipop at him. "Don't make moves on my girl, yeah?"
Austin just chuckled. "I don't have time for that."
Payal's face went red. She punched his arm lightly. "Stop it."
Adrian smirked, lollipop back in. "Make me."
The table dissolved into noise again. Bianca laughing into her hand. Connor trying not to snort soda through his nose. May hiding a smile behind her hair. Even Sato's mouth twitched.
Mark watched it all. The chaos. The comfort. Two weeks ago this table felt foreign. Now it felt like home.
He also noticed the stares. Girls at other tables kept glancing over. Didn't surprise him. Adrian and Sato at the same table was basically a magnet. Even after two weeks, he still wasn't used to being in the blast radius.
The lunch bell rang. Sharp. Final.
Chairs scraped. Trays stacked. Connor threw an arm around Mark's shoulder before he was even standing.
"Let's go, Marky boy."
That tone. That grin. Mark knew it.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
Connor's grin got sharper. "We're doing Austin's assignment."
Hakim cracked his knuckles, laid-back as ever. "Beat those fools from Blue High off our border."
Mark didn't hesitate. He smiled and nodded once. He wanted to see it. Two weeks of tape, bruises, and drills. Time to test it.
"Good," Adrian said, hands in his pockets, lollipop bobbing. "Don't forget to have a blast, yeah?"
The group moved as one. Out of the cafeteria. Down the hall. Past the staring students who parted for them without being asked.
Rank walked.
At the exit, Austin held the door open. He wasn't coming. Payal stayed beside him, notebook in hand. The strategist and his comms.
Austin's last words followed them into the hallway.
"Remember the plan," he said. "Hit fast. Don't get boxed in. And Mark—"
Mark turned back.
"Eyes open."
Mark nodded. Hand drifted to where the taser used to be. Empty now. He didn't need it.
The doors swung open.
Brookhaven hit them like heat. Shouts. Glass. Distant sirens.
And at the edge of East Brook, Blue High jackets were already gathering.
Adrian cracked his neck. Hakim rolled his shoulders. Connor pulled out his phone, hit record, and grinned at the camera.
"Alright y'all," Connor said to the stream. "Your boy Red is back. Let's make content."
Mark stepped forward.
No more dodgeball. No more rakes.
Time to fight.
---
The gates of Silver High groaned open.
Teachers watched from the stairwell. Some tense. Some scared for them. None of them moved to stop it. Stopping meant liability. Liability meant closed doors. So they went back to their clipboards and coffee, eyes averted.
Adrian and Sato led the way out. No words. They didn't need to.
Mark stepped through with Bianca on his left, Connor on his right. The air outside was heavier. Shouts echoed off brick three blocks down. Glass cracked somewhere near the border.
At the gate, Silver High first-years were on guard duty. Makeshift line. Pipes, backpacks, tired eyes.
And there he was.
Tom Hanks.
Messy hair. Tall frame. Rugged face that always looked like he'd just lost a fight he started. Three weeks ago he'd called Mark an insect. Made him eat concrete.
Now Tom didn't look at him. Pretended to scan the street. But his jaw was clenched. Fists tight around a metal pipe.
Because Mark wasn't alone. He was walking out with the top 5 of 1A. Adrian. Sato. Connor. Bianca. Ranked. Feared.
Mark saw it. The envy. The irritation.
And he smiled. Not cruel. Just… done.
_Three weeks ago I was prey. Now he's stuck on gate watch while I'm heading to war._
_Well, at least I've got 11 behind me._
He kept walking. The group moved as one toward the noise.
They didn't get far before Sato stopped. Everyone stopped with him. Instinct.
"Right," Sato said, voice low. No emotion. "Everyone splits up. Covers more ground. Objections?"
He didn't wait.
"Good. I'm going north."
And he was gone. Black jacket cutting through the crowd. No wasted steps.
One by one the others peeled off. Hakim + Adrian east. Connor went west, phone already out. Soon it was just Mark and Bianca left under the gate's shadow.
Bianca shoved her glasses up, hands in her pockets. "Guess it's just us unranked ones now," she said. Half a joke. Half a fact. "So, where to?"
Mark didn't answer with words. He turned his head toward the sound. Fists, shouting, a bat hitting brick. The direction he used to walk home through. Blue High hotspot.
He started walking.
"Hey, wait for me," Bianca said, jogging to fall into step beside him.
"You hear that?" Mark asked. His earbuds were out. No music. Just listening.
Bianca nodded. Her torn sleeve from two weeks ago was gone. New hoodie. Clean. But her eyes were the same. Sharp. "Let's hurry."
They broke into a run.
---
*Three blocks down. Blue Border.*
Two Silver High first-years were getting pushed back into a dead-end alley. Bruised. Breathing hard. Blood on one lip.
Cornering them: five street kids. No uniforms. Blue High had recruited them. Numbers over training. And leading them: a Blue High jacket, bat resting on his shoulder, laughing as he watched.
"Come on," the Blue guy jeered, spinning the bat once. "That all Silver's got? Two nobodies?"
One of the Silver boys, Latina, dark curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, gritted his teeth. _Damn it. Ain't no way we take five._
The Blue guy pointed at the quieter Silver boy. "You. Bat."
One of the street kids lunged. Bat high.
And the air shifted.
A body came from the alley mouth. Low. Fast. Didn't announce himself.
She caught the kid's wrist mid-swing, twisted, flipped him over his hip. The kid hit concrete with a _thud_ and didn't get up.
Before the Blue guy could react, another figure came from the other side.
Mark.
Two weeks of Hakim's drills. Elbow tucked. Wrist straight. Eyes open.
He stepped in, pivoted, and drove his fist straight into the Blue guy's chin.
_CRACK._
The Blue guy's eyes rolled. He dropped. Out.
Silence.
Mark stood between the two Silver boys and the four remaining street kids. Back to them. Hands loose at his sides. Not a textbook stance. Loose. Untraditional. Boxing base Hakim drilled into him.
"You two okay?" he asked without looking back.
The Latina boy blinked. "Yeah… thanks for the save, ese."
The other one exhaled hard. "Yeah. We would've been toast if it wasn't for you."
Mark's guard didn't drop. Four pairs of eyes on him now. "You two can still fight?"
Bianca appeared beside him. Calm. Dust on her hoodie, but not a scratch on her. "Then we should be able to win this."
The two Silver boys looked at each other. Bruised, tired, but the fear was gone. They grinned at the same time.
"Of course."
Mark's eyes flicked across the four street kids. Reading shoulders. Weight shifts. One guy's right hand kept drifting to his belt. Knife maybe. Another was bouncing on his heels. Scared. Eager. Sloppy.
Two weeks ago he would've closed his eyes. Today? He saw it all.
_Eyes open. Don't think. React._
He shifted his feet. Loose boxing stance. Chin down. Hands up.
"Then let's end this."
Behind him, Bianca's smile went sharp.
---