Hana’s lungs were on fire and the paper bag over her head smelled like old cafeteria bread and pure regret. Every stride made the ridiculous eye holes slip sideways, turning the alley into a blurry nightmare of neon signs and trash bins. Behind them, the guard’s boots slammed the pavement like he was trying to crack the street in half.

  “Left!” Liora yelled, voice muffled through her own mask.

  They spotted the gap between two buildings at the same time. No plan, no signal —just pure panic math. Hana grabbed Silas’s left arm, Liora took the right, and they yanked him sideways like a very expensive, very confused suitcase.

  Silas stumbled between them, duffel bags swinging wildly. The fake beard clung to his face by one tragic strip of glue. “To what do I owe the pleasure,” he panted, still clinging to that ridiculous Sirius drawl, “paperbaggers of the south, wardens of—”

  “Shut up,” Hana hissed, not slowing down. “I know your voice, genius. Why is a rent-a-cop chasing you while you’re dressed like a budget mafia boss?”

  Liora, still gripping his other arm, added cheerfully, “And the beard? It’s giving ‘villain who lost a fight with craft supplies.’ Real subtle.”

  The guard rounded the corner behind them, a charging wall of muscle and righteous fury. Silas’s eyes widened. The Sirius voice cracked into something closer to his normal, now tired chord. “Okay, long story, but maybe after we don’t die?”

  They exploded forward again.

  The alley reeked of wet cardboard and street-food grease. Hana’s heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her teeth. Every leap over a trash bag sent the paper mask flapping like a broken kite. Liora kept shoving Silas ahead whenever his heavy duffels slowed him down, muttering, “Faster, drama king!”

  Silas was breathing hard, the migraine already pulsing behind his eyes like a second heartbeat, but he still managed to look halfway dignified while being hauled through the city like stolen luggage. “If it was any normal day,” he wheezed. "I would’ve left that guy eating dust."

  They cut through a small plaza, vaulted a low railing, and ducked behind a row of food stalls. The guard’s shouts faded for half a second then roared back louder as he cleared the same railing in one angry leap.

  “Roof!” Liora hissed.

  The fire escape clanged under their boots. Silas nearly dropped one duffel halfway up; Hana snagged it without thinking and kept climbing, arms screaming. At the top they sprinted across the rooftops, leaping the narrow gaps between buildings. City lights blurred below them like scattered stars. For a few glorious heartbeats it felt like freedom.

  Then the guard appeared on the roof further behind them, somehow still gaining.

  They dropped into the next alley in a tangle of limbs and cardboard boxes. Hana ripped her mask off first, gasping. The thing smelled like every bad decision she’d made since breakfast. She tossed it aside and wiped sweat from her eyes.

  Silas stared at her, still half-dangling from Liora’s grip. “Holy shit. Hana was one of the paper baggers.”

  Hana shot him a look that could have curdled milk.

  They crouched behind a dumpster, breathing hard. The guard’s footsteps faded into the distance. For the first time in minutes the alley was quiet except for three teenagers trying not to squeal.

  Hana finally turned to Silas. “Okay. Spill?”

  Liora leaned in, eyes bright. “Yeah, and what’s in the bags? Because they look like the cause.”

  Silas rubbed the back of his neck, head still pounding. “Short version: I needed gear for Sunday. Long version: I may have accidentally become a high-roller crime lord for a few hours. The beard was part of the package. Then things got… expensive.”

  Hana and Liora exchanged a look.

  “Don’t believe me?” Silas dragged one duffel closer and unzipped it just enough for them to peek. Sleek black devices glowed inside, folding tech, humming components, things that definitely weren’t standard academy issue.

  Hana’s eyes widened. “Okay. That’s actually real.”

  Liora poked one with a finger. “Like, ‘containment wing’ real. What the hell did you do?”

  “Technically I gambled,” he said, trying to fix the beard. It fell off completely and landed in a puddle like a defeated squirrel. “Very convincingly. Then I may have… over-bought some things.”

  Hana let out a long, exhausted laugh that bordered on hysterical. “This morning I thought the gossip was bad. Now I’m helping a wanted criminal hide stolen tech. Perfect. My life is all down-hill from here.”

  Liora was still staring at the glowing devices. “It’s kind of impressive. In a ‘you're going to jail’ kind of way.”

  Silas gave them both a tired grin. “You guys are forgetting something… we are all accomplices now.”

  “Ah, fuck,” Hana and Liora said at the exact same time.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Silas zipped the bag shut. “Okay. Now let me change. Privacy alley, please.”

  They made their way back toward the academy through the quieter side streets. The city at night felt different — more security drones humming overhead, checkpoints at major intersections, every uniform making them tense. Now that they were mostly normal looking it was a bit easier to get through.

  On the train Silas leaned in and whispered, “Psst.”

  Both girls turned.

  “I have to burn all this before we get back.”

  Liora gave him a flat look. “Dude.”

  Hana just sighed. “Of course you do.”

  They got off at a random stop on the forested outskirts, the night air cool and thick with pine. Silas had apparently pre-dug the pit yesterday like some kind of paranoid Boy Scout. He unearthed the shovel he’d buried nearby while Hana and Liora watched in growing disbelief.

  “Okay,” Liora muttered, “this guy might actually be a real criminal.”

  Silas paused mid-dig, sweat already dripping despite the chill. “I thought we already established this. Help would be nice.”

  Hana and Liora exchanged another look, sighed in perfect unison, and grabbed the spare shovels. The three of them worked in silence for a while, metal scraping dirt, heavy breathing, the occasional muttered curse when someone hit a root.

  “I’m going to be filthy after this,” Hana grumbled, wiping dirt across her cheek with the back of her wrist.

  Liora laughed under her breath. “Same. This is the worst thing I’ve done all month.”

  Silas kept digging, the migraine still pulsing behind his eyes like a second heartbeat. “Thanks anyway. I knew the paperbaggers would never turn down a person in need.”

  The pit grew deeper. The mood stayed light on the surface, but something quieter settled between them.

  Hana finally broke it, voice softer than usual. “So… what exactly is your deal, anyway?”

  Silas stared into the hole for a long beat, shovel resting on his shoulder. “Had a home. Then I didn’t. Then it led me here.” He shrugged like that explained everything. “Short version.”

  The silence stretched just long enough to feel heavy.

  He broke it with a ridiculous pose, shovel held like a sword. “But also I was the super cool crime money guy. Fear me.”

  Hana snorted, the tension cracking. Liora grinned and gave a slow clap.

  “Not bad,” Liora said lightly. “And we made sure you didn’t get mauled. You’re welcome.”

  Hana stared into the small fire they’d started a moment later, flames casting long shadows across their faces. She poked at a burning branch with her steel rod, watching the blue glow flicker under her skin.

  “If it helps…” she said, not quite looking at either of them, “my mom used to be a hero. Few years back she went up against the wrong villain. Now she’s just… hollow. Some asylum hospital. I visit sometimes. It’s like talking to a ghost wearing her face.”

  She clenched her fist once, then forced a small laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “So yeah. Helping punks like you probably isn’t what she had in mind.”

  Silas nodded slowly, the understanding quiet and real, but returned some of the energy. “Woah now, the only illegal part was the fake ID. Everything else was just… uh, gambling.”

  Liora leaned back on her elbows, trying to lighten the air. “Well now I feel left out. Orphanage, adopted, that’s my whole sob story. Boring by comparison.”

  The fire crackled. The three of them sat around it like they were just normal kids at summer camp instead of three idiots hiding evidence. For a minute the only sound was the flames and the distant hum of the city.

  Silas finally broke the quiet around the flames. “Not to kill the vibe, but we’re about to miss curfew. And we really don’t want more trouble.”

  They scrambled up like they’d been electrocuted, dirt flying, laughter mixing with breathless curses as they hurried to bury the pit and sprint back toward the academy gates.

  By the time they sprinted back through the academy gates it was 9:50, curfew breathing down their necks like an impatient teacher.

  The posters were everywhere.

  Plastered on every wall, every lamppost, every vending machine. Bright, garish, and completely unhinged.

  FAILURE SECTION VS SECTION VI!!!

  A BATTLE OF JUSTICE AND PEACE!

  OF OPPRESSION AND REVOLUTION!

  HOW LONG WILL THE FAILURES STAY OPPRESSED?!

  WILL THEY RISE UP… OR BE CRUSHED?!

  THIS SUNDAY — TRAINING GROUNDS COLOSSEUM

  OFFICIATED BY INSTRUCTOR LAYHEN

  Complete with cartoon explosions, dramatic text bubbles, and way too many exclamation marks.

  Silas stopped dead in his tracks, he opened his mouth, closed, then opened again. “I’m actually going to kill him.”

  Hana doubled over, hands on her knees, still catching her breath. She let out a short laugh that turned into a wheeze. “You’d have to get in line.”

  Liora pulled her cheeks, hair sticking up in every direction. Admiring the poster, somehow. “At least the artwork is… enthusiastic.”

  They were still laughing quietly when a voice cut through the night.

  “Kids?”

  Instructor Seraphine Holt stepped out of the shadows near the dorm entrance, arms crossed. She took in the sight of the three of them, disheveled, breathing hard, clearly up to no good, and raised one elegant eyebrow.

  Hana’s stomach dropped. They looked exactly like three students who had just tried to sneak back in. She wiped off the dirt from her cheek, which didn't do much to be honest.

  “Oh, sorry,” Hana said quickly. “We’ll get to our dorms.”

  Seraphine sighed, long and tired. “Hurry on then.”

  The three of them did a quick, awkward fist bump and split off toward their separate buildings.

  Silas tip-toed into his dorm room, keycard beeping softly. The hallway was dark. Perfect. He crept toward his bed, bag slung quietly over his shoulder.

  The lights were off.

  He exhaled in relief and reached for the handle.

  A single lamp clicked on.

  Asher sat on the couch like a villain in a spy movie, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too amused for someone who had clearly been waiting in the dark. Who knows how long.

  The tension in the room thickened instantly. The duffel bag suddenly felt ten times heavier on Silas’s shoulder.

  “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”

  Asher’s voice was far too calm, far too knowing.

  “There was no Santa-Grinch Day,” Asher continued slowly, eyes locking onto the bag. “In any city. Anywhere.”

  The silence stretched. The gear inside the bag suddenly felt like it was glowing with guilt.

  “But seriously,” Asher said, leaning forward, “what’s up with all the gear?”

  The words hung in the air like a verdict.

  Silas started sweating.

  “It’s pretty expensive by the looks of it.”

  Asher’s serious expression cracked first. A grin split his face. “The look on your face… pffft. It’s even better than I imagined.” He started laughing, shoulders shaking. “You should’ve seen yourself.”

  Silas took a deep breath as Asher kept teasing him about the ridiculous outfit, the fake beard, the whole scene from the morning and now. He reached down, unzipped the bag, pulled out one of the sleek new weapons, and shot Asher point-blank with it.

  A bright blue stun bolt lit up the room.

  Asher waved his hand lazily. The bolt avoided him and fizzled into a corner, briefly lighting the room up.

  “Alright,” he wheezed, still laughing weakly, “it really wasn’t that serious—”

  The room went dark again as Silas flicked the lamp off.