From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 661: A Fake Story

The sickening, hollow echo of the loud pop reverberated throughout the empty classroom, and every person present instinctively winced, feeling the phantom surge of agony that was currently tearing through Sylan’s nervous system. Before the senior could even draw enough breath to let out a guttural scream that would have alerted the entire hallway, Max moved with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency. He reached out, ripped a jagged strip of fabric from Sylan’s own shirt, and shoved it deep into the athlete’s mouth, effectively gagging him and stifling his voice to a series of frantic, muffled whimpers.

Max looked toward the door. Having more people stumble into the room now would be incredibly troublesome for his undercover mission. Although, he mused privately, if a particular "janitor" happened to be patrolling the hallway outside right now, the situation would be handled before a single student could even think of calling campus security.

Talia and Jono stood frozen, their throats dry as they both let out a heavy gulp. They had spent the last few days living in fear of Sylan, terrified of the physical power he wielded and the authority he represented, and yet, the very person they feared had just been dismantled and treated like a helpless child by the quietest student in their class. Jono, despite his own throbbing injuries, couldn’t help but wonder if the pain Sylan was experiencing right now was actually far worse than what had been inflicted on him at the podium.

"Alright, let’s make this simple. I’m just going to keep pulling at things and breaking things until you agree to every single one of my conditions," Max claimed, his voice dropping into a cold, flat monotone that was far more menacing than Sylan’s screaming. "First, let’s go over what I told you before. You’re going to tell everyone that I’m not coming to the meeting tonight because you beat me up. You need to make it sound convincing, tell them I’m in the hospital."

Max reached out and gripped Sylan’s other, uninjured arm. Immediately, driven by pure, unadulterated terror, Sylan began to nod his head frantically up and down. His eyes were wide, pleading, and darting around the room for an escape that wasn’t there.

"Good, good. So, here’s the plan: we’re going to head back out of this room together. I’m going to pretend that you’ve thoroughly thrashed me. I’ll even rip my own shirt a bit more to sell the image," Max claimed, his eyes locking onto Sylan’s. "That’s how your seniors and everyone else will see this thing play out. You get to keep your pride, and I get my peace. Or..."

Max’s grip shifted. Rather than holding onto the entire arm, he pinched a single finger between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled with just enough calculated force that the joint popped out of its socket with a dull click. Sylan’s muffled cries increased in intensity, his body convulsing. Right after, Max pushed the digit back into place, causing a secondary surge of white-hot pain to ripple through the senior’s body.

Max didn’t particularly care if Sylan suffered long-term nerve damage or if he’d ever be able to use that finger for soccer again; in his world, this was a merciful lesson.

"Or," Max continued, "I find out you’ve told someone the truth, and I come back to finish what I started."

Since Sylan still couldn’t scream through the gag, all he could do was nod his head with desperate vigor. Max reached down and hauled him off the ground. Sylan stood unsteadily, his good hand clutching his dislocated shoulder, his face pale and covered in a cold sweat.

"Now, take me back to the class," Max commanded.

Before they left, Max turned his gaze toward Jono and Talia. The look he gave them was a silent, ironclad warning: they were not to say a single word about what they had just witnessed to anyone. He knew that if the truth got out, the other seniors, and likely Donto himself, would get involved far sooner than he wanted.

There was a high probability that whatever event was scheduled for this evening was critically important to the seniors for a reason Max hadn’t uncovered yet. He had considered interrogating Sylan about the party’s true purpose, but the athlete was currently in shock and likely wouldn’t be a reliable source of information. Besides, if Sylan felt that his fear of Donto outweighed his current fear of Max, he might break and tell the heir everything. Max needed to keep the balance of terror tipped in his favor.

When they re-entered the lecture hall, the ruse worked perfectly. Because of his disheveled hair and the strategic rips in his clothing, Max looked like he had been thoroughly roughed up. Sylan, fueled by the adrenaline of his own agony, acted the part of the victor well. He maintained his cocky, aggressive persona, making sure to let everyone know, in a voice that trembled only slightly, that they had better show up tonight if they didn’t want to end up in the same state as Max and Jono.

"See? What did I tell you?" Yovan whispered to Steve, her voice full of a smug, self-satisfied certainty. "All those rumors about him being some hot-shot legendary delinquent from Notting Hill? All of it was fake. I can’t believe I actually let myself believe for a second that I was the one who was wrong about him."

Talia had returned to the row and was standing right by Yovan’s side. She opened her mouth to speak, a desperate urge to tell her friend exactly how wrong she was rising in her throat. She had seen the truth in that empty classroom. If anything, the rumors were a massive understatement. The power she had witnessed was certainly the strength of someone who could unite entire districts under one banner. But she remembered Max’s look and bit her tongue, remaining silent.

"I guess I was wrong too. I don’t know what I was hoping for," Steve said, his shoulders slumping as he watched Max gather his things. "But with him being so quiet, I really thought that maybe he was just holding back some kind of monster within him. I guess life isn’t a movie."

He sighed, looking at the blood still on the podium. "Well, I guess this means we have to go to the event this evening. Do you mind if I head there with you two? Since Jono is clearly out of it for the day."

"Yeah, it should be fine," Yovan said, already turning her attention back to her notebook. "But it looks like that Max guy got so hurt he’s going to have to head straight to the hospital. He practically bolted out of the room the second Sylan stopped talking."

"Yeah," Steve commented, staring at the door. "And it makes me wonder... what the heck is even happening at this event that the seniors want us there so badly anyway?"