"Have all of you done the assignment?" My Social Science teacher turned to the whiteboard and pointed at the sentence written there in blue marker. Today we were touching a little on psychology. "List down your favourite quotes, and I'll tell you what your choices say about you. Everybody did that? Good. Why don't we start with you then Mr Thompson?"

Dean stood up, slow, and his male friends all whooped and clapped. Clearing his throat loudly he looked down on a sheet of paper and said, "This is from Isaac Asimov. " The teacher looked impressed. "People who know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."

The class laughed. The teacher shook her head, but looked amused. "Do you have another one?"

"Yeah. Alice Roosevelt Longworth. If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me." It took a second for the class to get it, and then they laughed even louder.

"Very clever, Mr Thompson. Take a seat." The teacher walked around the desk. "From this we can see that Mr Thompson here has a very healthy self-esteem, perhaps even a little too much. He's a confident guy, bordering on arrogance I should say."

Dean shrugged and gave his friends a high-five.

"Next person. How about you then, Miss Banner?"

Ahaha. This should be good. 

I stood up. I didn't write down the quotes because I had read them when I was much younger, and they had pretty much stayed with me since then. Dean's I was pretty sure he had just found out yesterday. For mine I could almost say that they were my life mottos. 

"This is from Malcolm X." I didn't miss the way the teacher's eyebrows flew sky-high. "If someone puts their hands on you make sure they never put their hands on anybody else again." 

Oohs rolled around the class. The teacher spoke. "Hmm. Interesting. Do you have another one  Miss Banner?"

"Leon Trotsky. If you can't acquaint a man with reason, then acquaint his head with the pavement." More oohs.

"Somebody likes it rough!" someone yelled, and his friends laughed as they exchanged high-fives. 

I narrowed my eyes. I'll show you rough, you little pipsquirt. 

"Thank you for sharing, Miss Banner. From this we can conclude that - ah, Miss Banner has a good sense of humor! Next......"

I sat down. It had been two days since Storeroom Stalker jumped me. Two days since I heard my brother's cryptic message. Two days of racking my head trying to figure out what everything meant. 

One day since I contacted my father.

*

"So one of your schoolmates attacked you. Any idea if he was a Blackcroft?" My father's voice was loud and clear over the phone. In the background was a sound like a gushing waterfall, and I guessed that he was in the shower, after which he would probably go down for dinner. The sounds of the water would mask our conversation.

"Judging from his figure I'd say he was young. I'm guessing between sixteen to, I don't know, twenty-six? Somewhere around that range. Anyone we know?"

My father started rattling off names. "Brandon and Trent." Those were Uncle Edward's sons. "Taylor, Jacob and Alecto." Otherwise known as Do Re Mi. "Jasper, Damian, Thomas - "

He stopped himself abruptly. There was that slight skip in my stomach whenever I heard that name, but I kept my voice light. "The last one is dead by the way."

"I know." My father was curt. "But do we know for sure that the guy was Blackcroft?"

"No we don't. He was all covered up and I didn't see any signs of a tattoo. He was either a Blackcroft or one of those alcoholics Eric kept raving about. The thing is, he wasn't after the item in the locker. He was after me. He didn't care about the locker at all, he just wanted to attack me. Why? I was the first person to hear that recording, so if you want the will, you should have been there listening with me, or trying to take it from me. But no, all he wanted to do was to fight me."

"Maybe he was going to defeat you then go back to the locker."

"I think he could have cracked the combination lock himself. It wasn't hard if you knew what you were doing. He certainly looked like he knew what he was doing. And how did he even know I was going to be there?"

"If he knew about the locker he could have been staking out the place. Or maybe he followed you there."

"He followed me all the way to the school just to fight me? When he could have easily attacked me in the streets? Something is wrong here."

"Then he must have been waiting. Maybe he took Eric, found out about his last message, found out that someone would come for him. So he used Eric's message as bait and did a stake-out every night, waiting for you to discover it. He didn't care what was in the locker because he was one of them and knew everything already."

"So not a Blackcroft then? Eric said the people who took the will were the alcoholics."

"It could have been a joint effort between a Blackcroft and the alcoholics. Somebody felt he could be don if it weren't for the will. So he hired the alcoholics to steal it. He would be in charge of making sure other Blackcrofts stayed away, while the alcoholics were in charge of disposing the will. There are many possibilities."

Too many possibilities. And too little information. I decided to change the subject.

"How did the story went down on your side?"

"So far no trouble," my father replied. "They bought the story, though some of them look suspicious. Mostly they're glad about it - with both children missing I no longer have status. Less competition for them." I didn't miss the sullen angry tone in my father's words.

"Why did you even send Eric after the will in the first place?" I asked. "With him around you could have stand a chance to get a position."

My father snorted. "Let us not fool ourselves. Eric is fifteen, a young boy, and though he is competent he is far from the best. In a fair election there is no way I would win a position. Only Anthony's will could have helped me. There are families with sons younger and less capable, but what they lack in quality they make up in quantity. Sending Eric was a risk I had to take. As pathetic as it may sound, you are now my last hope."

I arched an eyebrow. "You're acting pretty rude to your last hope."

"I'm being honest."

"As usual."

"About the alcoholics. You understand the reference?"

"Yes I do. I'm not a complete idiot you see."

"Good. Figure out the rest of the clues quickly. I expect developments the next time you call."

"Will do." I made to hang up, but my father was speaking again.

"And Hayley? Do try not to get caught. Because these people now know exactly who you are."

*

Back in class, I barely heard the teacher speaking as I ran through Eric's message once more.

I knew who the alcoholics were of course. They were part of a rival empire, one who Blackcroft had worked with in the past, but was also engaged in bitter competition with.

They were called Black and Tan. Yep that's right, they were named after the beer cocktail, where you layered a pale beer and a dark beer, resulting in this

They had a tattoo too, a simple one resembling the beer. It was a glass where the top half was colored in with black ink, while the bottom half left bare. Smaller than ours, it was also easily hidden, which means if Storeroom Stalker was from Black and Tan he would be hard to find. The good news was the tattoos were always painted in the same place for everybody - which was the area between your ankle bone and your heel. Usually it was the right foot, but you could also have it painted on your left. The bad news was how am I going to go around yanking people's legs out of their shoes and inspecting their feet without being labeled a psycho?

Black and Tan being the thieves made sense. Compared to Blackcroft they were relatively new, but their business had boomed in the past few years due to their knowledge of technology. In fact, quite a few times we had ordered shipments from them - weapons mostly, with the occasional micro drone thrown in.

Unfortunately, although one might know how to manufacture a kickass gun, it didn't meant one knew how to wield it to maximum effect. In terms of experience Blackcroft triumphed as well. Black and Tan leaned more to cyber crimes like hacking and transaction frauds, hiding behind the mask of the Internet, while Blackcroft was willing to get down and dirty. They were always losing to us by that narrow margin. Plus, it wouldn't be the first time Black and Tan had attempted such a thing. They were devious manipulators, and their attacks didn't come in the form of guns blazing. Oh no. They were much more sly than that. Stealing the will for example, would ensured that our organization structure be in temporary chaos. The harmony too would be jeopardized, as people fought for the throne. And then they would use this opportunity to slip right past us to the top.

As for collaborating with a Blackcroft to bring us down from the inside.....well it wouldn't be the first time. 

Remember Thomas?

I shook my head, refusing to let my thoughts go further. The alcoholics reference was just about the only thing I understood about Eric's message. They have taken it, but it is not with them. Means they passed it on to someone else - unmarked third party involved. So far so good. And the last known location of the will was that stupid, vague, incomprehensible address. 

Our mother when she died comma tall East Indian tree. 6-mile radius. 

6-mile radius. I was assuming that the center of the circle was Pambrooke High. Which meant the location was within a six-mile radius from my school.

Somebody get me a map. 

Next class was Chemistry. I was beginning to think that my father had absolutely no clue what he was doing when he picked the subjects for me. I had Maths, Physics, Social Sciences, English, French and Chemistry. Leila said she had no idea what career wanted those subjects. I decided not to tell her that I had not the foggiest idea myself. 

For Chemistry we were supposed to do an experiment. That was much easier for me - all you have to do is follow the instructions right? At least I didn't need to know that the electrical force between two charged objects is directly proportional to the product of the quantity of charge on the objects and inversely proportional to the square of the separation distance between the two objects.

Whatever that meant.

We were mixing chemicals and doing salt reactions. My hair kept getting in the way, especially when I needed to lean down to the beaker and look at the thermometer to check the temperature. I had to keep an eye on it half the time to make sure it wasn't set on fire by the flame of the Bunsen burner. Ha! I know what a Bunsen burner is! I'm so clever!

Oh shush you. 

Leila saw me and laughed. "Hold on Hayley, I'm going to ask around and see if anyone has a hairband."

"Thanks," I muttered, as the ends of my hair almost dipped into the beaker of sodium hydroxide again. 

I continued heating and measuring and keeping my hair out of trouble. Leila was back in a few minutes and I felt her walk up behind me. Her hands gripped hold of my hair and pulled it back, gentle, as she started to help me tie.

"Thanks," I said, distracted by the fact that the chemical was now bubbling and crap what was I supposed to do next again?

I looked up from the beaker to read my textbook.

And that was when I realized that everyone was staring at me. Some of the girls especially, had their mouths wide opened. I blinked, eyeing them eyeing me, puzzled. What? Was I not allowed to read the textbook for instructions?

I frowned. "Leila, why is everyone - "

I cut myself off mid-sentence. Because Leila was standing there, at a table some distance away, her mouth ajar with an expression like guilt on her face. 

An alarm bell rang in my head. If Leila isn't tying my hair, then who - ?

A breath of amusement tickled my ear as a voice whispered near.

"I'm not Leila, apple pie."

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

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

Okay, so I was just struck with this BRILLIANT idea......My story is tagged VisualStory, so the in-line media is obviously very important. Every single chapter is named after a Two Steps From Hell song because

a) they're awesome
b) really awesome
c) I LOVE THE MUSIC SO MUCH
and
d) it fits my story very well.

Then I think, what if I could take it a step further? Two Steps From Hell has several albums, so what if each album corresponded to a specific character?

For example the mood of the album "Devil Wears Nada" is a very quirky and light atmosphere, with a lot of fun. So that would fit Emrys very well. So any chapter that focused on Emrys would be titled with a song from that album.

That made the process of naming my chapters so much more systematic, as well as making sense. Integration between my two faves - music and writing! ASHBGJKLDH now I'm so much more hyped for this story!

Oh and this chapter is dedicated to JazziBear33 , for always being the first one to read and vote 😁👊✋ your support is a very big driving force!