Spy Mage System
Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Prom Problems

I sat in my room, wondering what had just transpired. I was sure that the vest-wearing guys were agents and that fighting wasn’t my problem.

But shooting at me? Should I call the police this time? If I did, they would probably replace me and try to kill me before help could arrive...if it ever did.

I suddenly became aware of how it felt to be afraid–truly afraid–for the first time in my life. Now huddled under my comforters, trying to escape from reality by soaking up all my shrilling tears with them.

What should I do?

Maybe not go down that road again, or not walk home from school anymore. In fact, I should inform my mother that she might be too concerned about my safety and not about the call she might get today regarding me.

But I don’t want to put my mother or father in danger.

I continued to shrivel in my sheets, which seemed like the only safe place for me where I could settle in and try to cry my tears of fear and shock away.

.....

I wish my uncle was here. No, he isn’t deceased. He’s a secret service agent for the White House who recently obtained a new job as the CEO of some sort of espionage organization, and I’m not exactly sure what it is. His form is so alluring that women fall for him simply by seeing a reflection of him, and I know this because we’ve met him previously but don’t want anyone to know we’re relatives outside of the rest of the Secret Service.

Box-like shoulders with long arms, wearing a tuxedo or suit of some sort I believe, with sunglasses with wires that went down inside the suit.

Even though he was popular and could talk to people effortlessly, I couldn’t. Instead of living in fear that bullets would dodge past my head again, like before, I wanted to be just like him: Living a life that people would gravitate towards and an ecosystem that supported me. Then, Mom walked into the room-noticeable relief exuberated from within me. Although she usually expressed anger through her body language, this time she didn’t seem fazed.

She isn’t the one to tell you if she’s angry or not, she’ll be in the nicest mood and then suddenly you’re in trouble.

“Mom?” I asked, quickly trying to wipe the tears from my face quickly, and trying to hide my red eyes. “Hello,” she said frankly. “Have you dressed up for your prom yet?”

I looked at the time, and it was 4:12.

The prom started at seven.

“Mom, it doesn’t start for three hours. That’s literally 180 minutes,” I said and she scoffed in response. She hastily replied, “What’s wrong with dressing up early? There is a set time you’re supposed to dress up for an event. That time is before the event actually starts! Now get dressed!”

She closed the door, not hard, but to where my heart pounded once she closed it. I got up from my bed and began dressing up.

While getting ready, I closed the curtains in case anyone was watching. I put on a tuxedo because it was prom. Even though I didn’t have a date, at least I could be the center of attention. Maybe I could get lucky and replace someone that way.

I went downstairs to the living room, where my family keeps our devices, powered on my computer, and checked to see if Greg was online; he normally is. I don’t have any homework because I complete it during Study Hall – a very useful class session.

Plus at least I know I’m eating afterward.

As always Greg was on and got my headphones plugged into the hole to send a message to my computer that the volume was now being transferred through the personal tool that was resting on top of my head.

I started up the Discord chat, and soon enough he answered after what seemed to be a long moment of microphone adjustment, in which the deep and based sound of the movement blared in my ears.

“Hey, you there?”

“Yeah, just paying my taxes after waiting for you to finish,” I said, thinking I said something sneaky. But Greg immediately cut the cord.

“What do you mean, I’m already in my grave waiting for you to come online,” he said, and I couldn’t say anything else, and I think it wouldn’t be wise to do so.

***

I went to an event even though I had no interest in it and didn’t know a soul who would be there. My hair was slicked back with a black rubber band so that it would appear to match the darkness of the party’s atmosphere. The venue had changed since I last checked – now it was held in a run-down building with rusty walls. There was a poster declaring the party as a “Prom Party” decorated with rainbow colors, but it failed to add anything special to the dismal scene before me.

Useless.

Then you walk down the steps as soon as you walk through the door, and once you do, the party is on-and you may dance, chat, network, and engage in other activities that I never dared to do in public. The night was chilly and the moonlight was able to spread much farther than usual because of the rays’ apparent choice of only a few buildings.

Small red lights were the only thing left of Mom’s Volvo as it drove away. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for my first obstacle: the door. It wasn’t too difficult-I just had to push on the handle and open it. But as soon as I did, the silence from outside came rushing in.

Seemed creepier than before.

I was walking towards the stairs that led down into the basement, but then I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. It sounded like someone was walking around upstairs, but it was getting closer and closer to where I was standing. I wanted to run away, but I felt frozen by fear.

But then, I felt something touch me, or in this case-someone.

I quickly felt my neck seized by someone’s hand, and I could feel it was a muscly one because the pressure of his arm was crushing against my bones. Air was blocked from entering the windpipe.

My hands and arms flickered and flailed around, panicking at the loss of oxygen that was moving through my veins and arteries.

It was one of those vest guys or the agent cosplay-looking fools that wanted to kill me, and now I’m going to die because I witnessed a fight.

Was this how it was going to end?

This is how the story of Connor Drails, who was not loved or cared about by anyone who died after being choked to death on the gateway to prom.

But then, I felt an energy flow through my body that seemed to be heating me, as my arms began to simmer into a glowing red.

What was happening?

I felt something shiver through my body, and my bones rose from their shaking position as if they had no control over it-as though it knew I was not deserving of command. My elbow rapidly pushed back, and I could feel the collision between the bones that shattered.

As the choker cried out in pain, I quickly managed to free myself from his grip. Without a moment’s hesitation, I threw a right hook into his face. Instead of him staggering back from the blow as I had expected, he came at me with renewed force and shoved me into the wall.

I was speechless. I could only look at my hands and his body that was knocked unconscious back and forth, wondering what in the world just happened.

But I needed to run and get out of here because more could be coming.

I sped out the door and began running, heading towards the way back home. But then, I heard even more footsteps following behind me.

Don’t tell me.