Failed God's Son - The Tragedy of Lucifer Percival

Chapter I - A new fire came ablaze

It is a rainy Tuesday morning, and Mitchell Whitehouse is about to be late for school.
He zooms off the bus, jumping onto the concrete tiles below, nearly letting the backpack slip off his grip.
He rushes through the crowd of other students heading to his school, St. Justin Catholic School of New Hampshire. The bell rings as he steps through the main door. His mind begins to panic as he rushes up the stairs to the 2nd floor, busting into class shortly after.
- Mr. Whitehouse, this is your third time coming in late for class. - says his geography teacher, Mr. Miyers. - One more late entrance and I will call your mother about this.
- I am sorry Mr. Miyers. My alarm clock wasn't turned on the other night, and I overslept.
- Same excuse as last time eh?
- ...Did I say the same thing last time?
- Yes, Mr. Whitehouse.
- ...W-Well-.
- Just sit down at your desk, you're wasting my work hours.
- Yes, Mr. Miyers. - Mitchell quickly scoots over to his desk.
The first few classes go splendid. Nothing unusual, until his 5th lesson of the day.
History with his headteacher, Mrs. Hussey.
A new student, or atleast a different one, sitting next to the teacher's desk. His messy hair is charcoal black, tiny amount of tan on his white skin, average nose, chin and forehead. His height, 6' 11", a tall boy in the classroom, for once. Doesn't seem to be the fat kind, more on the sporty-stick side. Dressed in normal school uniform of the place, white shirt, black jeans, and black shoes the size of a dinner plate. Approximately size 50.
No teen mustache across his face, nor beard.
- Good afternoon everyone, quickly get to your seats, I have someone special to introduce. - says Mrs. Hussey, her voice sounding cheerful as usual. She wasn't the type of person to get really mad over homework or being late, she was kinder than most teachers, like she actually wanted to become one.
Whitehouse and his class took their seats and opened their ears.
- Thank you for coming, class. Today before our lesson, I would like you to meet our newest student, Mr. Percival, from New Orleans.
The student stood up and stood next to the teacher, towering over most other students with his height.
- Would you like to introduce yourself a bit more, Mr. Percival?
- My name is Lucifer Percival. I was born in New Orleans, and moved to St. Justin in 2014 with my parents. I am 19 years old, and my birthday is on October 23rd.
The students looked at him, and thought either two things: how to mess with him, or how to not get him to hate them. This didn't look like the average students in the school, he was built different.
As for Whitehouse, the student looked promising. Getting in a friendship with him could be a good way of getting away from bullies and such. And he generally liked him, not in a gay way, but did think he looks cool.
- I hope you will find some friends here, Mr. Percival. Your desk is in the 3rd row, next to the window, and it's the 2nd desk. - said Mrs. Hussey.
Percival grabbed his bag and quickly sat down.
- This is our last class for today everyone, before afterschool programs start. I'd like everyone to pray with me before this lesson. - then Mrs. Hussey put her hands together, closed her eyes, and bowed her head down. She started telling the daily prayer.
Whitehouse and the rest of the class did the same, but he looked over quickly to Percival. He saw his mouth moving, but not in a silent talking fashion, no, as if he was clenching his teeth together. His hands' grip on one another, were as if he was infuriated.
The prayer ends, and Percival sighed.
Whitehouse was, understandably, confused. Was Percival just upset that he didn't know the prayer? He saw new students' reactions before, some just didn't say a word during prayer, some tried to improvise, and some felt ashamed for not knowing the prayer. But this was different, as if Percival was upset over the prayer. Why?
The lesson passes, and lunch break rings out.
Percival sits down next to a window, eating away the menu of today; fries, fishsticks, tartar sauce, and corn.
Whitehouse hated the corn, but mostly everyone agreed, the corn was trash. He wanted to socialize with the new student, so he put on a smile, and walked to him.
- Hey there, you're the new student of ours, right? I am Mitchell Whitehouse, can I si-?
- No.
- Oh, are you holding this spot for someo-
- No.
-...Then?
- I don't want you or anyone to sit near me. So, fuck off will you?
Well isn't that nice? Of course not. How and why could this student be so mean? He isn't like any other students, whenever someone new came to the class, they were usually nice. But this one straight up told him to screw off.
Whitehouse leaves Percival to himself and sits down near by, alone. He watched him eat, he was eating rapidly, as if the break was about to end in a second. Shovelling everything in his mouth, even the corn which everyone hated. He was chewing, but after a good 5 chews, he swallowed the whole thing. No gags, no choking, no coughs or misswallows.
Whitehouse felt rather weirded out. He finished his lunch shortly after and headed to the afterschool programs.
He was one of the students of the school's soccer team. They played in every town soccer championship, and won only one time, and that victory was also 3rd place. He was a great defender of the goal post.
He arrived at the soccer field next to the school's gym, where his teacher, Mr. Krell, waited for him and the rest of his team.
- Good afternoon everyone. I hope your lunch was mediocre. - said Mr. Krell, jokingly. - Today will be a quick practice match against some folks in the city. 10 players against 10 players. My team, you guys, will put on blue shirts, and the city folks will wear their normal clothing. Now get on the field!
Everybody ran off quickly to the closet where the shirts were stored. Big old cardboard boxes, old equipment, balls on the floor, golf clubs and ping-ping flappers no one used in decades since both clubs went silent.
Whitehouse changed into his blue shirt, when something caught his eye. Percival was in the enemy team. Now he knew how to defend a goal post, but knew already that Percival is different, something was just odd about him. 6 foot and 11 inches of pure energy was standing on the field, ready to hit some balls. He knew that if Percival got the ball, he will score 100%.
The teams line up, and the practice match begins. Percival takes no time and swoops the ball away from the blue team, cruising past the defenders and...scores a perfect goal. Whitehouse dodged out of Percival's way.
Mr. Krell can not believe his eyes, 8 seconds into the match, and already a goal.
- Whitehouse! I expected that you'd defend that post with your life!
- I am sorry Mr. Krell, I got spooked!
- Well if he charges again, I better see you cling onto that ball like you clinged on your mother's tits.
The boys laugh it off, and the match continues. Whitehouse readies himself for Percival's next goal attempt.
His team rushes in, but again, Percival yoinks the ball off their feet, and runs towards the goal post. Whitehouse readies up and...misses. Percival's team just scored their second goal.
- Whitehouse, you said you'd defend this time! - Mr. Krell shouts.
- I tried! But I thought he'd juke my defense! I thought he'll shoot the other way.
The match continues on, and on, and on. Mr. Krell's face is in his right hand by the half point. His team, 3 points; the city folks', 10 points.
He orders Percival to be moved as the defender, and orders Whitehouse and a nother student to be blue team's attackers.
The match continues. Whitehouse isn't as good as an attacker, but he didn't know how to dodge. His attack partner is Harlem, a side defender. They quickly zoom past the other team's attackers, with some attempts of them trying to claim the ball getting taken out. Whitehouse lets Harlem to attempt the score, he charges up and...Percival simply grabs it by reaching out, not even getting a tad bit spooked.
Mr. Krell sees this, and thinks of the potential. This new kid is the absolute perfect player. Capable of attacking, capable of defending, and he is as fast as a bullet. He wants this kid on the team, asap.
The end of the game is creeping in, and Whitehouse and his team are getting mad now. This new student has been blocking every attack, and absolutely dominated the field. Whitehouse sweeps past the enemy attackers, kicking the ball straight to the goal post. Percival goes to catch it, bur Whitehouse realizes that he is moving too fast. Percival catches the ball, and then bam, comes Whitehouse, stumbling over him, both of them falling into the net of the goal post.
Mr. Krell facepalms, and the others laugh.
Percival throws Whitehouse off of him like he has the weight of a sheet of paper.
- I am sor-. - Whitehouse tries apologizing.
- It's nothing. - answers Percival.
- Are you hurt? In any way?
- No, but that was the most uncomfortable seconds of my life so far.
Whitehouse picks himself up, and Mr. Krell ends the match with blowing his whistle.
- Okay everyone, that was our practice for today. I wanna thank the city folks for coming today, I hope you had fun.
Percival attempts to leave, but Mr. Krell stops him.
- I am sorry if this takes a bit of your time, but I got something to ask.
- Yes?
- I have seen your performance on the field, and I gotta say, I am fascinated! Absolutely amazing speed, defending and attacking skills. Have you played before?
- No, it's my first time.
- Oh, then let me tell you that you are a born perfect player.
- Thanks.
- Tell me, would you mind signing up for my team and practices? They, well, as you can see, aren't the bestest team, but if you play with them, it can definitely be a boost of morale and I'd make you the main player. What do you say?
- I'll think of it.
- Alright, alright! No pressure! Just tell me your choice by next practice, which is next week's Tuesday.
- Okay. - Percival walks off.
Mr. Krell turns to Whitehouse and his team:
- And all 10 of you! You all better practice during the weekend and throughout this week! What was this absolute rubbish? It's like you guys were playing for the first time in your lives! I wanna see something WAY better next time. You are all dismissed.
Whitehouse and the rest of his team walk back and change their clothes in the changing room.
- Did you guys see the new kid perform? - asks Whitehouse.
- One of them is new? - someone asks.
- Yea, the dude who beat the absolute hell out of us is actually in my class.
- That is rad! Are you two friends?
- Far from it. I tried to talk to him during lunch and he told me to screw off.
One boy slams his locker shut.
- You two shut the hell up about that try hard! We are fricking pebbles from him to kick around! I bet it's all just anger from his parents not loving him.
They soon finish changing. Most students leave feelingless, or annoyed, Whitehouse however, is curious. How is this new kid so mean, and yet so amazing at games? So he starts looking for him to ask a few questions, and maybe get on better terms with him. After a good 20 minutes of searching, he  can not find him at school, but he finds Percival on his bus back home. Sitting 5 seats away from him. He thinks he should try to socialize with him again, so he gets up and goes up to him.
- Hey, Percival was it?
- Yes.
- I just want to say that your play on the field was am-.
- I know, youe teacher has told me.
Whitehouse has this feeling. Percival's voice wasn't normal as other students'. It was rather deep, and numb, as if he had no feelings. He was sounding as if he did not give two damns about anything.
- Well, are you planning on joining?
- ...Maybe. I didn't think much of it yet.
- It would be cool if you'd join tho.
- I'll choose what I'd like.
- Yes of course, but-
- I will choose what I like, okay?
Whitehouse nods.
- Can I take this seat next to you?
- ...I guess.
Mission success.
Whitehouse put his backpack next to his seat and sat down.
- When did you move here again? 2014?
- Yes.
- Why did you guys move?
- The town I lived in was destroyed.
- How?
- Something went wrong in the mines on the town outskirts, and gas leaked into the city. Everyone had to be evacuated due to massive air pollution.
- I think I heard of it. West Chelsea, New Orleans gas leak of 2014?
- Yes
- Damn, is the city habitable now?
- Works are still going. It is said we'd have to wait until 2030 atleast.
- Are your parents and you think you guys will go back?
- Not sure.
The bus then pulls up at a stop.
- I have to get off now. - says Whitehouse.
- This is actually my stop aswell.
- Oh, well that's neat.
- I live on Judas St. 44.
- Nice. I live not so far away from that, Catherine St. 6.
They both get off and began their walk down the pavement. The sun was bright that afternoon, so both looked down on their feet.
- What are some other things you do?
- ... Boring stuff.
- How boring?
- ... Boring enough that I don't wanna talk about it.
- Okay but give me an approximity.
- ...Like watching an egg.
- Like watching a hatching egg?
- No, just, watching an egg.
- Oh...that does sound boring.
They reach Judas St. 44.
- Say, Percival. - asked Whitehouse. - Do you mind me coming over sometimes? You seem cool.
- ... - Percival noded, then walked in his home.
Whitehouse knew that whoever he just befriended, was no ordinary student.