William Wonavilla Hostel, United Kingdom

November, 2012

It had nearly been six months since the mysterious murder in that Hotel at Nantes. Being one of the world-renowned hotels, there was naturally a huge media coverage at the time in France, to the extent that the government itself had to crack down on reporters after many complaints by the Hotel Owners.

But the damage had already been done!

 The very same hotel which used to pride itself on hospitalizing nearly 700 guests in its 150 rooms, could not even manage to attract quarter of those numbers. The fact that such an incident had taken place right before June- peak month of summer bookings was even more dreadful.

In any case, just like the media, the rest of the world have moved on to other things of interest and future  started to look brighter for the winter bookings. The staff were happy, the locals were happy and even , the officials who were eager to bury the matter were more than happy. 

But there was someone who wasn't happy. 

Someone whose presence or absence in these strings of inter-woven happening might not affect the perception at large but could certainly change the course of one particular individual's life whose presence mattered much more than that very individual himself perceived to be. 

 An individual whose name had started to catch on slowly and slowly among wherever he frequented like some sort of predestined hero set to leave its legacy. An individual she couldn't pass a day by without wondering ever more deeply as to what truly lurked behind the simple guise worn by his ordinary name.

"Max Ryder."

..............

Azesha Washazi was a honorable second year student , much like her peers. In her humble opinion as she always put it, having been born with good looks and wit had kept her far back from pursuit of unordinary. 

The whole thrill in her life had been so easily centered around the grasping true depths of bulky books that ordinary students used to not give two pence about, that she couldn't give a damn about anything else.

"Azesha! Azesha! " Her peer would often urge her passionately. "There is still a week's time before Mr. Matthew will hand out test papers. Why don't you join us for the play? I am sure with you there, it would be far more pleasant."

.......

"Azesha! Azesha!"  An unfathomable vexation lingered in their voice that she couldn't comprehend no matter how matter she tried. "Why did you miss P.E. class today? It was so good. We had so much...."\

......

She couldn't recall further despite trying but it was no bother. She was well content in herself to be able to fill those deliberate blanks in her memory with monotonous snide that must have been directed at her under guise of affableness or care. 

"No. But thanks for the consideration" Her voice was always meek and polite , though she could imagine the opposite to be equally true as well since how their faces always used to shrivel up into a disappointed cherry , robbed off its skin. 

The guise didn't really matter. 

She had never wanted to put up some kind of charade so whether it actually worked or not was just as irrelevant to her as much as the mystery behind why those people still insisted on convincing her to be something otherwise.

Had she wanted to be something else other than plain ordinary bookworm or so she had been titled without demand in classroom, she would have been the first one to commit most outlandish deed in the school. A deed so unthinkable that even the worst of the bullies would have thought twice before approaching the air in which she breathed finely.

But she didn't really want that. She had no particular desire to either stand out or keep herself hidden. She was fine with being what she was , the way she was - whether it could be characterized as banal or mysterious or nerdy or arrogant.

In that particular manner of contentment that exuded within her heart, she felt insanely proud of herself - an envious feeling for anyone not in her position. But neither did the people cared enough to venture for any deeper reserve she held behind her facade nor did she wanted them to try.

She was like a saturated balloon in which both loss and supply could only inflict damage, rather than promise any kind of promising future.  And being someone who held faith in her well-endowed gift of wit and bountiful charm, possessing no desire of 'more' , her life seemed to be a light heading straight through an invisible dark cave, entrusting fate to ensure the road taken ended in expected manner.

Such kind of notion, whether absurd or not rested inevitably on the faith which itself was the mother of all absurdity. But even the rays of light that glimmer most in times of darkness believing themselves to be all set to take care of all hinders by simply running through on its path, find itself bent when facing a mirror.

The mirror in her case was none other than the boy who had slowly started to become talk of the country, the clueless rising idol of school: Max Ryder. Her feelings to put it as blunt as she could, weren't of jealousy or contempt towards the boy who had taken away all the stardom that may have been owed to her, for himself.

Normally, this would have been an ideal scenario . It was just like finding the annoying flashlight pointed at your face, gradually taken away by someone else who felt at such ease with it that you couldn't help but only be unsettled.

But it wasn't so straight. The person who had protected her unabashedly against this flashlight should have been soiled in those stinging photons. He should have been enjoying it with a thrill she would have cherished in herself , had she wanted to attain stardom. 

Yet, here was an unordinary silver haired genius in perfection position to stand out, having even trampled on her 'if possible future' completely being absent-minded of the glory he could feed on.

Thus, Azesha Washazi had only goal at the time- a goal she had far ever dreamed of when entering Wonavilla: to uncover the secrets of the mysterious angel who took away the glaring light from her yet had unjustly discarded it so easily as to not even bask once under it.

For that, she was prepared to forsake the very same ordinary life that had come to full realization because of this angel. It was weird, inexplicably hard to comprehend and register even in her own mind but here she was, with her new-founded single member club , all set to uncover the secrets of Max Ryder.

Its name, as truly to capture the essence of that glamorous silver head ...Argent Force Club.