Throughout the constant barrage from Joe, Max had been repeating the same thing in his mind—Just get through the day. Just live his life. This is Max Stern's life now, and if he could survive it, so can I.
But all of that vanished the moment Joe crossed the final line.
Max couldn't take it anymore. The anger, the humiliation, everything he had bottled up, exploded to the surface. The moment he caught Joe's foot, there was no going back.
With a firm push, Max flung Joe backward. He stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the floor.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joe shouted.
Max stood tall, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth—the small cut Joe had given him—and his glare was cold, focused.
"You think I'm scared of you?" Max said, his voice low but steady. "You think anyone with half a spine would be afraid of you?"
"You should've listened when you had the chance," Joe continued, his voice rising with fury. "I was letting you off easy compared to what Ko would've done… but now? Now you've gone and done it!"
Screaming, Joe charged forward and threw a wild punch straight at Max's face.
Calmly, without even raising his hands, Max shifted to the side, effortlessly dodging both of Joe's wild swings. After a particularly large, sloppy punch, Max stepped in close. With precision, he grabbed Joe by the shoulders and yanked him down—driving his knee hard into his gut.
Spit burst from Joe's mouth as the air was violently knocked from his lungs. He tried to inhale, to recover, but it felt like nothing was coming back in. And just as the panic hit him—so did Max's fist.
A bare-knuckled strike connected squarely with his jaw, snapping Joe's head back. Shockwaves of pain rattled through his skull as he dropped to the floor, collapsing onto his backside in a daze.
"ARGHH!" Joe screamed in agony.
"SHUT UP!" Max snapped, grabbing Joe's head with one hand and slapping him hard across the face with the other.
"ARGHH!"
Smack!
Another slap.
Every sound Joe let out was met with another sharp slap. Again. And again. Until, finally, the message landed. Joe stopped making a sound.
Max stood over him, breathing heavily, running one hand through his hair.
"I was so damn tired of that little act," Max muttered. "What is wrong with you? Are you mentally deranged? Do you have some kind of sick foot fetish or something?"
He looked down at Joe's trembling form.
"The more I think about it… the more I'm starting to feel like I haven't done enough."
Joe instinctively flinched. His mind was spinning from the first two heavy hits—his vision blurred, and his legs felt like jelly. The stinging in his face was sharp and constant, and his cheek was beginning to swell.
Max looked down at him, expression cold and unrelenting.
"And now look at you," Max said, brushing his knuckles off. "You just had to go and ruin my damn plans."
—
Outside the school grounds, Abby was walking briskly beside one of the science teachers.
"I can't believe it," the teacher muttered, clearly annoyed. "Skipping first period just to pull this kind of stunt? I seriously worry for the next generation."
They quickened their pace. The bell for first period had already rung, and although the teacher didn't have a class to supervise at the moment, Abby was missing hers.
"You're sure this is where they went?" the teacher asked.
"Yeah, the music storage room," Abby confirmed with a firm nod.
Just moments earlier, Sam had rushed up to her in a panic. Breathless, nervous, and nearly in tears, he had poured out everything he knew—what he had seen, what he feared was happening. Abby had believed him instantly. Sam might have been shy and awkward, but he wasn't the type to make something like that up.
She also knew the truth: if she went to stop the bullies herself, it wouldn't make a difference. Not in this school. They'd just come back worse than before.
After all, Abby was a nobody in the school—no influence, no reputation. But unlike Sam, there was one thing she coulddo: go straight to a teacher. And that's exactly what she did.
To her surprise, the teacher acted quickly. But she wasn't expecting much to come of it. Most of the teachers at this school turned a blind eye unless the problem was shoved directly in front of them. As long as it didn't happen in the classroom or during school hours, they considered it not their responsibility.
'Sam said they usually take their victims to the Music Storage room,' Abby thought. 'He was sure of it...'
The teacher reached the door and unlocked it, pushing it open.
Inside, the room was completely empty.
"What...?" Abby stepped in quickly, her eyes darting around the space. It was small, cramped, and filled with instruments and old chairs—but no sign of Max or Joe anywhere.
The teacher crossed his arms and sighed.
"Abby," he said, his voice laced with disappointment. "It's first period. Are you telling me the truth? Did you really seeanyone come in here, or did someone just tell you something?"
Her guilty expression said it all. Abby looked away, unable to hold eye contact. She was a terrible liar.
"Let's head back to class immediately," the teacher said, already turning around. "You're lucky I'm not punishing you for missing part of first period."
Abby trailed behind, trying her best not to fall further into trouble—but she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder, again and again.
'Sam wouldn't lie to me… so what happened to Max? Where is he?'
From the far corner of the music storage room, hidden behind several grand pianos stacked like forgotten relics, Max stepped out—his arm tightly wrapped around Joe's mouth.
He waited a couple of minutes after the coast was clear before delivering a sharp kick to Joe's back, sending him crashing to the floor. As Joe groaned and scrambled, Max swiftly mounted him, pinning him in place.
"What the hell is going on?!" Joe shouted in a panic. "This is crazy—what are you doing? Are you trying to kidnap me or something? And who the heck even are you?! Are you really the Max I know?!"
"The Max you know?" Max muttered darkly, gripping Joe's hand and holding it upright in front of his face. "The Max you knew is dead. And I'm trying to find out why."
Max leaned in closer, his voice steady and cold.
"You don't get to ask the questions now. I do. And for every lie you tell…" He tightened his grip, pushing Joe's fingers apart. "I'll break one of these."
Joe's face paled. "This is insane!" he stammered. "You—you wouldn't!"
"I would," Max said without hesitation. "So let's start simple. Why were you and the others targeting me?"