There is always injustice in the world, and there will always be good that rises up to stop it; a Yang for every Yin. But not everything is as black and white as it may seem. There exists many shades of gray in life.
Wyatt Oxwell, a boy who cannot...
The event was very formal, everyone had put on their best attire. It was some sort of charity ball or something? Either way, the party up above didn't matter. The real meat and potatoes of the night was happening downstairs.
He put on his black blazer over his black button up shirt. He wore a white bow tie, accenting the white lapel on his blazer. His pants were black, as were his shoes. Yet under all of it, was his body armor. He couldn't go in without any protection.
Walking into the party, he felt out of place. He had never been of much wealth, especially not of this caliber. Everyone was wearing the latest fashion, bespoke in their diamond jewelry. It didn't matter, he just had to case the event and get back out. Passing by a waiter that held a tray of champagne, he grabbed one, uttering a quick word of gratitude.
He took a sip, wincing slightly as it went down. Even the alcohol tasted expensive. Oh, what the hell, it wasn't on his tab. Downing the rest of it in a large swig, he set the now empty glass onto another passing tray, looking around the party.
Any sort of entrance or side room would be a good place to start. He saw several, but he also spotted something—or other, someone—else. His eyes widened, as memories of practically the same scenario years ago played out.
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There she stood, dressed in an impressive, all black suit that wasn't too dissimilar from his. Turning away as soon as she started to look in his direction, he discreetly checked his breath. Inhaling deep to try and calm his pounding chest, he willed himself forwards towards her.
"Nice suit." He said, trying to reign his nerves in and lean casually against the glass table she was leaning on.
"Thanks." She said, glancing at him. "You too."
"Thank you." A beat of silenced passed between them, before he realized he had to speak to actually engage in conversation. "I'm Wyatt, Wyatt Oxwell."
"Kate Bishop."
"Bishop, Bishop." He ran his hand through his hair. "Where have I heard that name?"
"Probably my mom's company, Bishop Security." She replied.
"Of course, that's it." He smiled, as she chuckled awkwardly. "Well, hey, I'm going to go explore the party, meet new people. See you around?"
"Uh, sure man." She gave him a double thumbs-up as he walked away, halfheartedly giving her a two-finger salute. As soon as he was around a corner, he cursed himself for his lack of people skills. Progressing down the corridor, he found himself in a library. He closed the door behind him, locking it.
Turning to face the room, he scanned it for any obvious hidden entryways. Nothing stood out to him. The room seemed to hold nothing but hundreds of books on shelves that climbed to the ceiling. Nothing in the room seemed of any importance relative to his objective, but a shape moving outside drew his attention. He walked over to the small window, peering through the blinds to see a "Trust a Bro" moving truck.
