My heart is getting soft, dark spots on it.
  chapter two 𓃦 make me a bird of prey.

The water that's bathes him is the warmest water Ajani has felt in years. He watches the dirt, the grime, and the crusted up blood wash away and down the drain beneath his scuffed feet with a sense of detachment. Had he really survived like this for this long? Without anyone?

He rinse's his hair clean next, letting the water comfort his scalp and letting all his troubles ease. When he steps out, there is a uniform waiting for him in the room over.

The room in question is nice—far nicer than anything he's ever slept in, with a similar design layout to the rest of the school: dark mahogany walls, dim lights, and ornately crafted furnisher.

     In his chest, Jani knows why they are doing this. So they can butter him all up in their lavish expenses before hitting him with the hard cold truth. That this school is a home crawling with sociopathic lunatics. People like him.  And he wasn't sure if that's what he needed or even wanted. No, he knows it's not.

He tugs on his uniform, letting the cotton of the button up scruff up against his scars and feeling the stiffness of new fabric against his skin. He tosses his locs up, letting the beads and jinkies dance and brush his neck before tying them into submission.

Up against a nearby wall, a roll of socks and boots that Ajani fits into perfectly well. He turns to stand tall in the mirror behind him. First, he notices how bare his face is without the mud scruffs and soft glam. And for the first time in years he actually studies himself.

Second, he notices the eyes staring back at him. They seem older than his years, carrying the weight of experiences that few could understand. There's a hardness there, a resolve forged in fire, but also a glimmer of something softer, something he's almost forgotten.

      He turns away, switching off the light before walking out the room and into the still bustling hall. He feels for inside his blazer pocket finding a paper sharp enough to slice through his fingertips. He pulls it out and reads it, a class schedule.

"....Convert Operations?" He stares up, finds Marcus standing at the end of the hall. The boy pays no mind to the other because he is talking to a girl. Pretty, Mexican, with big, midnight black hair that falls down her back in rich, perfect waves. He is standing over her, obviously flirting and she smiles at him.

     Ajani's head turns, intrigued and he begins to approach before an arm drags him back. His head snaps to the side finding another young man with dark brown hair pulled into a low bun at his nape and olive skin. He too is gorgeous in his own little way, with pretty brown eyes that seem way too eager and happy for a place like this, and a smile that he is sure could draw anyone in.

     "H-Hey, you're the new kid, right?" When Ajani doesn't respond, he continues, letting him go, "im Santiago—or Santi, it doesn't matter."

Finally, Ajani shakes his head, "ahh, so all of yall knew id be here?" He laughs coldly, "yall got some sort of hazing ritual planned?"

     Santiago shakes his head, insistent. "Oh, no! I just wanted to show you to your class if you don't mind. Master Lin told me, since I am leader of student council it would be nice for me to give a warm welcome to our newest student."

Newest student; meaning Ajani would now have to stay here. He sighs deeply. "Ye-Yeah, sure. I need to get to Convert Operations."

     "Oh! Mr. Maresh teaches that class, you'll love it!"

"Ah."

     Together, the two walk the other way. Overhead, Gun's N' Roses song "Welcome to the jungle," plays from somewhere over a speaker, sending kids—especially the weird looking hard rocker ones into a spur of dances and screaming. The move to get around the two, bumping Ajani in the process.

"Ignore them," Santiago says over the sound, "those are the rats!"

     "The what?!" Jani says, turning to look at him.

"They're the kids who don't belong to any crime families," Santiago explained. "The rest of us call them 'rats' because they scurry around, keeping their heads down to survive. They're the outcasts, the ones who don't have powerful connections or a legacy to fall back on."

Jani looks back ahead, "the ones without a crime family?"

"Yeah, so..." Santiago starts, then hesitates before asking, "What family are you a part of?"

     Ajani's jaw tightens, and he looks Santiago directly in the eyes. "I'm not part of any family."

Santiago's eyes widen slightly. "Oh, I see. So, you're a rat, too."

     Ajani gives a curt nod, feeling the weight of the label settle on his shoulders.

"Well," Santiago continues with a more serious tone, "that just means you've had to fight a little harder to get here. And maybe that makes you stronger than the rest of us. Don't let the label define you. Let's get you to class."

𓄚

"Welcome to Convert Operations, class," an older man with a stern expression and sharp eyes says, "today, we will focus on the art of deception." He turns, picks up a chalk and writes the words in scrappy letters on the board.

"Now," he begins, folding his hands behind his back. "In this line of work, your ability to blend in, manipulate situations, and gather intelligence is paramount. Success in our world isn't measured by brute strength or loud proclamations. No, it hinges on subtlety, quick thinking, and adaptability."

He pauses, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Blending in is your first lesson. The greatest threats often come from those who go unnoticed. Learn to become a shadow, an unremarkable face in a crowd. Your survival depends on your ability to disappear at a moment's notice."

Mr. Maresh takes a few steps, his eyes never leaving the students. "Next, we move to manipulation. Control is an illusion, but it's one you must master. Influence the actions of those around you without them realizing it. Plant ideas, nudge decisions, and create outcomes that serve your purpose. Remember, a well-placed whisper can be more powerful than a shout."

He stops in front of Ajani, holding his gaze for a moment before addressing the whole class again. "Gathering intelligence is our third pillar. Information is the currency of power. The more you know, the better equipped you are to make strategic decisions. Eavesdrop on conversations, read between the lines, and always keep your eyes and ears open."

Mr. Maresh returns to the center of the room, his expression serious. "Subtlety, quick thinking, and adaptability. These are your tools. In the field, you will face situations that change in the blink of an eye. Your ability to adapt, to think on your feet, will determine whether you walk away or are carried out."

He lets the silence hang for a moment, then adds, "In this school, and in the world beyond these walls, the stakes are always high. Practice these skills until they become second nature. Your life, and the lives of those around you, depend on it."

He looks down at the silent class then, smiling, "I will now be taking a volunteer."

Mr. Maresh scans the room, his sharp eyes landing on Ajani. "You, our newest student," he calls, his voice echoing through the classroom. "Come to the front."

     Ajani hesitates, hands gripping down at the desk. "Don't be shy, come on up," the man says again, holding out a hand.

With a grumble, he stands, making his way to the front of the class and feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on him. He can feel Lex's mocking eyes specifically from the side of the classroom but comes up anyway.

     "Today, we're going to learn about pickpocketing," Mr. Maresh announces. "It's a crucial skill in covert operations. The ability to take something without being noticed can mean the difference between life and death."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, shiny object. "This is a challenge coin. Your task is to pickpocket it from me without my knowledge." He hands the coin to Ajani and smirks. "Think you can do it?"

     Ajani takes the coin, feeling its weight in his hand. He nods, hiding a smile. This is something he is familiar with.

Mr. Maresh turns his back to the class, pretending to be engrossed in a book on a nearby shelf. "You have one minute," he says over his shoulder.

     Ajani moves silently, slipping the coin into his pocket. He approaches Mr. Maresh cautiously, his footsteps barely making a sound. He notices the slight bulge in Mr. Maresh's back pocket and makes his move. With a swift, practiced motion, he reaches into the pocket, retrieving a keyring without Mr. Maresh noticing.

The teacher turns around, looking unimpressed. "Time's up. Let's see what you've got."

     Ajani holds up the keyring, and Mr. Maresh's eyes widen in surprise. He reaches into his back pocket, finding it empty. The class murmurs in astonishment.

"Well, well," Mr. Maresh says, a hint of a smile on his lips. "It seems our new student has some hidden talents."

     Ajani hands the keyring back, his face expressionless. "Old habits," he says quietly.

Mr. Maresh takes the keyring and looks at Ajani with newfound respect. "Class, this is a perfect example of why you should never underestimate anyone. Lesson learned." He turns back to Ajani. "Welcome to Covert Operations, Mr. Figs. I think you'll fit in just fine."

authors note: I knocked out two chapters in less than twenty-four hours I'm so proud of myself 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

word count: 1625; mostly edited.