Knife in the Dark

School

School was definitely not on my list of things to be a part of, but everyone except me agreed that it was the best way to keep a low profile. That didn't stop me from complaining about it at every chance I got.

The group decided to pick a buddy, which was stupid because it was obvious who they were going to go with, as well as there being an odd number of us, so I was a lone wolf, which I was fine with, nothing better than not having anyone hold you back when you break someone's nose.

The other positive about having no buddy was that I could put weapons on, which everyone else did, even the polearms were folded at their joints to fit in our school bags, which we stole from a bag store, the once and only time I'm going to look at bags.

We all walked into school separate, and each buddy group gave a different last name. I was now going to be known as Jacob Castille for the rest of my time here.

My classes were boring, I was way ahead academically than any of the people at this school, even the rest of The Storm. I simply sat at the back of the class and drew designs for new knives.

When lunch finally came around, I sat at the opposite end of the playground to anyone. A bonehead guy walked up with two cronies behind him, I had done enough scenarios in the C.L.O.U.D to know that this guy was head of the school, time to usurp that position from him.

"What are you doing here kid?" He asked in as few syllables as possible, like the English language hurt him.

"Sitting, you?" If he was going to try to badger me away, he had another thing coming.

"Making sure worthless little maggots like you don't go stirring up trouble." He said way too smugly to be healthy.

"Wow, you can say the word maggot, congratulations," I did the most sarcastic clap possible. "Do you know what idiot is? Oh wait, of course you do, everyone needs to know their profession.

The guy growled at me. "I think it's time to put you and your smart little comments in the ground where they belong."

I was waiting for this moment. "I hope you don't hit me, then again you will probably aim to miss and hit me from bad aim."

He sprung at that, it what would have been a perfect spear tackle, if I hadn't already dived out of the way, making him land face first in the dirt. His cronies could do nothing but look on as I stood, now having the upper hand, and waited for the tank of a person to stand back up, which he did.

He spat grass out his face and full on pelted at me, only to get another mouthful from a sidestep and a trip by me.

The kid was smart enough to not try again, "fight me like a real man would fight, with weapons," he pulled out a Swiss Army knife, thinking that he now had an advantage over me. Which he did.

I wasn't allowed to show my weapons in public, so that meant that the balance of power rested in the hands of the knife in his hands.

Too fast for him to react, I jumped from a standstill, grabbed his wrist, and prized the knife from between his fingers, ending up with me still grabbing onto his wrist, having caught the knife with my left foot.

The boy looked at me bewildered, if his mouth had been much more open, a passenger jet could fly safely through it. He looked from me hanging from his arm, to the knife on my foot, for slightly too long.

With my right arm, I jabbed him below the rib cage with my fingers, sending his muscles into a temporary spasm. At the same time I flicked the knife into my left hand, which was in the process of letting go of his arm, and kicked him in the small of his back with my heel.