Book One of the Aurum Choi series.
Aurum doesn't like people. In fact, he absolutely detests the idea of being around anyone. Top grades in the state and the most wanted athlete; he doesn't need human interaction because it's a "waste of time". Bei...
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"I'm tired of this back-slappin' "isn't humanity neat" bullsh*t. We're a virus with shoes." –Bill Hicks
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Aurum already found it strange that Cecil wouldn't follow him in; he simply assumed it was most likely a ploy that'd end in his immediate doom. "Go on, man," The freckled kid gestured at the door. "Chiron is in the room on the left. He'll give you all the answers to your endless questions... Mostly because I'm too lazy to answer them." He chuckled to himself as he waved the Korean boy goodbye.
Aurum raised an eyebrow as he cautiously stepping foot inside the rickety-looking building, and as soon as he entered the hall, Cecil closed the door behind him, shutting out his only way of exit.
"Well isn't that great," Aurum muttered sarcastically, shuffling his feet down the corridor with his defense up. His hands formed into fists that he held up as he tiptoed towards the room Cecil advised him to. His mind began to spiral and plot out different ways to combat if a sudden attacker went for him, and if he managed to escape, he'd try to alert the authorities right away.
Second key to New York, here he comes.
His heart thumped against his chest, although he was doing his best to remain calm. He swallowed nervously, gritting his teeth to convince himself that he'd be fine. The whites of his knuckles peeked through his skin as his fists tightened.
He wasn't scared about meeting the leader of this gang, obviously; Aurum was paranoid over the new environment.
A new place equals new germs, bacteria, and diseases that he could catch immediately. This fact bugged the back of his mind, yet he tried to ignore it as he moved onward.
A low, gruff voice from around the corner took him off guard, "Over here, my boy." His feet immediately took a step back. Although it surprised him, Aurum shook his head and mentally composed himself once more. He willed his legs to move forward and turned the corner, bracing for someone to jump at him.
Instead, he was met with a sight he didn't think was true to his eyes; Aurum couldn't help but be surprised when the ringleader of the camp was a disabled, old man.
He seemed to be middle-aged, although stress had clearly taken a toll on his appearance. His face was decorated with bushy eyebrows, brown eyes that examined him with a sort of intensity, and a scruffy beard streaked with white that fell past his neck. Gray, faded hair hung over his face in long strands. He sat in a wheelchair by his desk and turned the wheels manually to face the boy in front of him.
Aurum was completely taken aback; how could someone like him be in charge of hundreds of children? In this sort of position, what sort of power did he have over them?
