The name "Stroke" felt like a lead weight tied around Hawk's neck.
He stood outside the massive,
obsidian gates of Neo-Berlin High.
The building wasn't just a school;
it was a fortress,
all sharp angles and cold,
dark granite.
Every time Hawk showed his student ID,
the security scanner didn't just read his name
it seemed to scream it.
Stroke.
The family name that,
according to every history textbook,
was responsible for plunging the world into two horrific wars.
The prejudice wasn't just gossip;
it was taught as fact.
Hawk was a walking target,
viewed by everyone as a potential global disaster.
But Hawk wasn't here for history class.
He was here for Hank.
His older brother,
Hank,
had died right here in 2024.
The official report called it an
"unfortunate accident"
a fall from the third-floor balcony.
Hawk knew that was a lie.
He remembered the last night clearly.
Hank, nervous and wired,
had laughed that high,
shaky laugh of his,
the one he used when he was truly terrified.
"They're going to kill me for this evidence,
Hawk,
" Hank had whispered,
shoving a tiny,
encrypted data stick into Hawk's hand.
"Keep it safe. Don't look at it. Wait until I tell you."
Hank never got the chance to tell him.
Now,
Hawk was enrolled in the same school where his brother died,
carrying the secret that could either clear his family name or get him killed,
just like Hank.
The evidence was hidden deep in his room, but Hawk knew the key to unlocking it
and the truth
was somewhere within these cold,
echoing hallways.
He walked into the cafeteria,
a loud,
chaotic space filled with the privileged children of Neo-Berlin's elite.
He spotted his first target immediately:
Sonic
Sonic wasn't a fighter;
he was a brainiac,
the top student in the entire school,
hunched over his lunch and a complicated physics textbook,
trying to disappear.
Unfortunately,
Sonic wasn't fast enough.
Towering over the genius was Golgo,
a brick wall of a guy who looked like he ate textbooks for breakfast.
Golgo was the muscle,
the number three enforcer in a school gang called the Mosquito Group
a group that specialized in making life miserable for anyone who wasn't rich,
powerful,
or,
in this case,
named Stroke.
"Look at the Topper,"
Golgo sneered,
grabbing Sonic's collar and lifting him slightly off the ground.
"Too smart to look at us, huh?
Maybe we should rearrange your face so you pay attention."
Sonic was frozen,
terrified.
That was Hawk's cue.
This wasn't about saving a friend yet;
it was about making a statement.
Hawk moved with a focused,
explosive energy that surprised even himself.
He didn't bother with a warning.
He just delivered one single,
sharp strike.
a precise blow to Golgo's midsection.
It wasn't a wild punch;
it was a pure,
concentrated burst of force.
Golgo didn't even have time to yell.
He dropped Sonic,
his eyes wide with shock,
and immediately crumpled to the floor,
clutching his stomach and gasping for air.
The entire cafeteria went silent.
Hawk looked down at the defeated bully,
then calmly picked up Sonic's dropped textbook.
"You okay, Topper?"
Hawk asked,
his voice low and steady.
Sonic stared,
not at Golgo,
but at Hawk.
He didn't look grateful yet, just stunned.
Hawk knew he had just thrown the first punch in a war
that started decades ago,
a war that killed his brother,
and a war he was determined to finish.
He had just declared himself an enemy of
The Mosquito Group.
and by extension,
the powerful people
who ran this school.
He was officially in the game.
The school day was dragging,
and Hawk found himself stuck in a dull History lecture.
He was trying to look attentive,
but his mind was elsewhere,
focused on the missing pieces of his brother's past.
Beside him,
Sonic was fiddling with a loose thread on his backpack,
occasionally passing Hawk small,
cryptic notes about security weaknesses in the school's archives.
The quiet study session was abruptly interrupted by
Murg.
a known lackey for the Mosquito Group.
Murg loomed over Hawk's desk,
puffing out his chest,
clearly trying to provoke a public scene.
"Still hiding behind your books, Stroke?"
Murg sneered,
expecting Hawk to shrink away as most students did.
Instead of reacting with anger,
Hawk moved with surprising economy.
He didn't stand up or shout.
He simply shifted his weight and delivered a precise, short punch.
a quick jab
directly into Murg's solar plexus.
It wasn't a wild swing;
it was calculated pressure.
Murg gasped,
his breath knocked out of him,
and he stumbled backward,
clutching his stomach.
He didn't report Hawk;
instead,
Murg retreated,
looking shaken but strangely intrigued.
Hawk let him go,
a silent signal that Murg had chosen a side,
even if temporarily.
Meanwhile,
across the campus,
Golgo
was nursing a bruised ego and a sore ribcage.
He was furious about his earlier public failure.
Rahale Afsani,
his superior in the Mosquito Group,
observed him with cool detachment.
Rahale was the strategist,
her movements economical and sharp,
a perfect contrast to Golgo's raw aggression.
"Max is not pleased, Golgo,"
Rahale stated, her voice crisp.
"You were made to look foolish by a ghost's shadow.
That cannot stand."
"He's quick," Golgo muttered,
rubbing his side.
"I'll catch him next time."
"Next time will be on our terms,"
Rahale corrected him firmly.
"We don't fight in the open.
We remind them why
the Stroke name is feared.
We make an example.
Later,
Hawk,
accompanied by the now-loyal Murg,
slipped into a rarely used storage room near the gymnasium,
searching for old administrative files.
The room smelled of dust and forgotten sports equipment.
The silence was broken by a calm voice.
Thor Belfrin,
No. 4 of the Black Centipede,
stood blocking the exit.
Thor was known for his unsettling stillness and
his ability to lock down opponents
without using obvious force.
Murg immediately moved to stand in front of Hawk,
ready to take the hit.
Thor completely ignored Murg.
His gaze was fixed solely on Hawk,
a look of deep,
unsettling familiarity in his eyes.
"Looking for something you lost,
Stroke?"
Thor asked quietly,
his tone suggesting he knew exactly what Hawk was searching for
the truth about his brother,
Hank.
Before Hawk could respond,
Thor extended his hand and lightly placed his fingers on Murg's shoulder.
Murg instantly froze.
His muscles locked,
his expression stuck in a grimace of surprise. This was Thor's signature technique:
a localized nerve lock that rendered a target completely immobile without causing lasting damage
a chilling demonstration of control.
Thor then looked back at Hawk,
his expression unreadable.
"Why are you even here?"
he demanded,
the question hanging heavy with unspoken threats from
the Black Centipede organization.
——————–—————————————TO BE CONTINUED 🙏🏻
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