I switched off my torchlight at once. No sense in letting whoever it was see me. The shelves and props vanished back into the darkness once more. I trod lightly as I moved away from the locker and behind a shelf I remembered seeing. My fingers pulled out the knife under my clothes and I gripped the hilt tight, ready.

My adrenaline was up and pumping, and I let it consume every fibre of my being, stopping only its ascent to my head. Adrenaline was what kept you alive, but it was also what had you pouncing at shadows. You had to balance it with a clear head.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Was it wrong of me to feel wickedly excited? Endless training and accomplishing lesson goals were one thing, but when you were finally faced with the real danger.......the rush was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

Breathe in.

Finally, I could really put my skills to test.

This was my exam.

Breathe out.

And now - assess.

I was in a dark storeroom with little to no vision. Somebody had just locked me in with him, and hadn't acknowledge my presence in any way. Hence the possibilities were -

a) he didn't see me

or

b) he was a hostile.

Considering a single blazing torchlight in a dark storeroom was pretty noticeable, I'm going with b). Space constraints were an issue too; every corner I turned was a risk of something falling off the high shelf and revealing where I was. But if this was true for me then it must be true for my opponent as well.

Next - ask. Could I take down Storeroom Stalker? I had zero information on him, so the answer to that would be no idea. Which brought me to the final step.

Attack. No complaints there.

I closed my eyes. I opened them. No difference. So why bother seeing?

I squeezed my eyelids shut and focused on my other senses. The principle here was something like closing your eyes while trying to memorize something. It helped you focus.

Focus on your hearing. Focus on your smell. Focus on your touch.

Focus on that soft sound of shoes brushing against the cement floor, about three feet away and nearing.

I stayed stock still and made no movement. There was a hesitancy in the steps. Good. It meant he wasn't sure where I was and he wasn't all too confident either.

Two feet. Two and a half. One foot. Just one shelf away.

Strike.

I flung out my arm, the hilt of my knife going first, and it hit him square in the head. I sensed him reel backwards then felt the punch in the stomach. Solid and true. I was winded a little by it. Not bad, whoever you were.

I pushed him hard, sending him crashing into the shelf behind. Boxes and props fall off, landing with loud protesting noises on the ground. Aw man, I just spent the afternoon arranging that!

I melted back into the darkness and heard him catching his breath, getting up on feet. Slowly I inched my way to where I knew the door was. Don't worry I'm not backing out of the fight, but I hardly wanted Mr Michael to assign me to cleaning duty yet again tomorrow - even if this time it was indeed my fault. Best to take the violence somewhere where there was a little more open space and a little less fragile stuff.

My fingers brushed the shelf and I reached the end. If I wasn't mistaken the door was only a foot away. I could see the sliver of pale light coming in from underneath.

I stepped out from behind the shelf and

I staggered back, clutching my nose, feeling the blood dripping down my fingers. Ow. Okay. Definitely did not see that one coming.

He threw down the weapon responsible for my nosebleed and I heard it clanged against the floor. There was a whoosh of air near my head and I ducked just in time for the fist to sail past. Drawing my right hand back I let it fly with as much force as I could get, aiming a little higher than his stomach.

The fist connected. Dayum! Right in the solar plexus! I distanced myself and added a sideways kick for good measure. Hey, buy one free one right?

He crashed yet into another shelf and this time the noise was beyond deafening. I had a sickening feeling he might have triggered a domino effect.

Now I just had to catch this guy. There was no way I was getting a second detention - I was going to drag Storeroom Stalker here right up to the teacher and going Mr Michael sir, this is the culprit you have been looking for. Which unfortunately, meant I couldn't kill him. Dammit. Surely some form of incapacitation was allowed?

I sprinted past him and got to the door. I had unlocked it when an arm grasped my shoulder and swung me around. Before the hand could make its escape I grabbed hold of it and did an aggressive twist, hearing with some satisfaction the gasp of pain as his knees buckled and he knelt halfway on the ground.

Hmm. It was a guy. More reason to be violent.

His other hand came for me but I twisted even rougher. He grunted in pain but didn't cry nor swear out loud. That is some pain tolerance. My free hand managed to get the door open and I let him go, running out of there at once. Positioning myself a few feet away from the door I kept my hands up and loose as I waited.

He took his time, stepping out all slo-mo into the light. Pale moonlight bathed his figure and I saw him clearly then. He wasn't as tall as I thought, and was leaning more to the sinewy, athletic type. His clothes were dark and long, covering every inch of his skin. Even his face was covered by sunglasses and a black felt mask, a cap pulled snugly over his hair. He wore gloves over his hands.

They flexed now and he came running, arm ready to punch. I dodged and stepped sideways, kicking him hard in the back so his face slammed into the lockers. I figured I had the right to make his nose bleed too. Mine was throbbing away like mad, but I ignored the pain and focused on my mysterious assailant.

I had to mark him in some way, or at the very least take something of his. Anything that would help me identify him in the future, just in case I couldn't take him down today.

He turned around, looking at me, his chest heaving from the exertion. "What do you want?" I asked. I figured for a man all hidden in black he was most probably not going to answer who are you?

His response? A sudden, vicious lunge forward. Okay. Talk first, answers later. Got it.

I evaded but his right foot swept in and almost tripped me over if I hadn't caught sight of it in time. I jumped over it and did a sweeping kick of my own. He dodged that one easily. Too easily.

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you Blackcroft?"

He tilted his head, and if it hadn't been for the mask I knew he would have been smiling. Have they really found me already?

"Hey! What are you two doing in here?"

The night security had appeared, right on time. My assailant wasted no time and took off at once down the opposite end. I hesitated only for awhile before I followed. What choice did I have?

"Stop! Stop right there!"

Why do people say things that they know will never be listened to?

Storeroom Stalker took the corners and bends with ease, navigating the hallways with confidence. He knew where he was going and I kept close on his tail. Soon I could see the closed cafeteria doors ahead.

A beam of light swept the end of the hallway and he came to a screeching halt. Turning around he caught me by surprise as he clamped a hand over my mouth, dragging me into a room nearby. It was the arts and crafts room, and we stayed out of sight just behind the doors.

I struggled for a while but then felt his other hand tightened threateningly around my neck. Wisely I stopped moving. I didn't want to get caught by the guards anyway. At this close distance I could smell the faint hint of a cologne, woody with a touch of vanilla. I inhaled deep, committing the scent to memory. I could feel his heartbeat pounding away and smirked; either we were too close for comfort or he was panicking at the idea of getting caught.

The light shone the length of the hallway, its progress agonizingly slow. I had half a mind to yell for the guard to hurry up. Ever so slowly it crept near us, then right next to us, then right past us. Through a window we watched as the light reached the end of the corridor before finally taking a right, disappearing from sight.

This was my chance. I elbowed him hard in the ribs and shoved the hand covering my mouth away, before getting in some distance. To my surprise he didn't fight back but instead darted for the door. I went off in hot pursuit.

He ran down the hallway and round a corner and suddenly we were outside, in the back of the school. There was a fence there and he made for it. With one swift movement he cleared it, but as he landed outside he whipped his head around at me like an angry snake.

With a smug smile I held up his jacket, which I had pulled off of him as he hopped the fence. Now lambaste him with a kickass one-liner! I thought back to what Emrys had told me this morning and couldn't hide my smile.

"Cinderella just dropped her glass slipper......." I said, my voice sing-song.

There was no time for a victory dance however, because directly behind me there came the urgent voices of the guards. Any moment now they would see me standing here. I needed to get out.

But on the other side was Storeroom Stalker, waiting to reclaim his clothing. His arms were crossed over his chest, his posture all cocky. He knew I had to jump the fence eventually.

Staring him dead in the - er, sunglasses - I put on his jacket. It was a bit too loose but I zipped it up, my movements defiant. I couldn't tell what was going on in his head at my display.

With a run I cleared the fence as well, and immediately after I landed he began to fight me for the jacket. But unlike him earlier, I had it zipped up and he couldn't just tear it off my back.

So this is important to you huh? I dodged his blows and got in one of my own, before feeling my feet getting swept out from underneath me. I took the momentum and did a back-flip, landing safely on the pavement.

The guards saw us and started to yell, running near. I gripped the jacket firmly near my waist.

"You are not getting this back." I enunciated every word. "So either you run and don't get caught, or you can stay here and fight for it like an idiot."

He stared at me for a long while. And all this time the guards were getting nearer.

"Make a decision, pretty boy." He stiffened visibly at that. Ooh, somebody doesn't like his masculinity being questioned.

The guards were now just five feet away.

He turned around and ran.

I did the same too, except I headed the other way. My fingers crumpled the hem of the jacket into a ball as I smiled.

I think I just passed my exam.

*

The jacket was a varsity jacket.

I had gotten home sometime past midnight, after fifteen minutes of endless detours and doubling back to make sure I wasn't followed. Upon entering the house I had locked my door and pulled all the blinds. I had set up something akin to an alarm system too - a tripwire near the ceiling above the door, so when the door opened the edge of it would push against the tripwire, setting off the series of bells I had hung along the length of it. Nothing big I supposed, but I was a light sleeper, trained to wake up if I so much as hear another person breathing. Besides, I kind of liked the bells - I had purchased them at an arts and crafts shop, all in one pack, shiny and small. Jingle bells I think they were called. They came in several bright colors and even had tiny smiley cut-outs on them.

I agree. They are very cute.

Now I was sitting on my dining table checking out the jacket. There was no question of it being a varsity jacket, the design was clear enough. So was the large raised letter P sewn into the left side of the jacket, above the heart. Turn it around and you would see the words "PAMBROOKE PANTHERS" at the back, encircling the high school logo.

My high school.

My eyes ran over it, taking in the details. White collar and white sleeves, while the front was a dark blue. Stripes at the hem, collar and cuffs. Pretty typical item of clothing. I had turned it all over and inside out, finding nothing suspicious nor out of the ordinary.

It wasn't the perfect material for blending into the darkness and sneaking around unseen. It wasn't an assassin's choice of garment. Why would someone buy a high school varsity jacket just to attack me? It didn't make sense.

Which only left one explanation.

One of my schoolmates was the one who had just attacked me.

*. *. *. *.*. *. *. *.*. *. *. *.*. *. *. *.*. *. *. *.

This chapter is dedicated to StrictlyHunted, for being this story's very first supporter and encouraging me all the way ;) Thank you very much!

Any guesses on who Storeroom Stalker is? An already established character or one as yet unrevealed?

Comment your conspiracy theories!