So, you wanna dive into my story, huh? Alright, buckle up! Let's rewind fifteen years back to Stanfield Academy in New York city. Picture this: it's been a good sixty years since the mysterious Great Flame Ignis decided to spice things up and change the world.
Ever since the Great Flame popped up, everything's been a rollercoaster. We've got superpowered folks running around, shaking up power balances between countries and even the big bad criminal organizations.
But hey, guess what? The world's still the same old playground with its laws, dominant forces, and everyone's favorite hobby—getting stronger. Now, instead of just lifting weights, we've got the most talented folks pulling the strings. Because, you know, it's all about control.
Ah, Stanfield post-Flame era, now that's a sight to behold. After the whole Flame spectacle, the world decided it needed some new job descriptions and domains. Colleges like Stanfield jumped on the bandwagon, adding classes left and right for folks to learn how to wrangle their newfound powers. Now, Stanfield's not just any old college—it's the place to be if you want to be a top-notch scientist, lawyer, or one of those fancy Flame wielders we lovingly call... Wardens.
These Wardens, they're the big shots now. Mastering the Flame can catapult you into leadership roles or make you a frontline warrior in various titles. But hey, enough about the power dynamics for now. Let's zoom in and meet each other already.
Picture this: in the training yards of Stanfield Academy, a scene straight out of a cheesy romance flick was about to unfold. The crowd, eagerly waiting for drama, could practically taste the anticipation in the air.
Enter Helios Crown, dressed like a walking fashion billboard, probably worth more than my entire wardrobe combined. The guy was the epitome of charm and confidence, with a smile that could blind you his entire being screamed, "Look at me, I'm special!"
Now, Helios wasn't just a pretty face; he had a tall, strong body with sharp features, brown hair, and blue eyes that seemed to say, "I work out... a lot."
On the other side stood Sofia Reyes, the Latina goddess herself. With those killer high cheeks and sharp eyes, she could probably bench press a truck in her simple training clothes. And those green eyes? They were like laser beams, cutting through Helios's smooth talk like a hot knife through butter.
Helios, the eternal romantic fool, extended a bouquet of roses to Sofia. "Sofia, my dear, would you do me the honor of gracing me with your presence tonight?" His voice, dripping with hope and just a dash of desperation, echoed across the courtyard.
The crowd leaned in, their whispers blending into a symphony of excitement and speculation.
"Will she finally say yes this time?"
"Isn't this like Ethan's sixth attempt?"
"He must really be head over heels for her."
"Oh, to be looked at like that..."
"Ah, I wish Helios would gaze at me like that," sighed a hopeful onlooker, lost in romantic daydreams.
"Let's be real here," scoffed another, "Sofia's not just the most beautiful girl at the academy; she's got that golden flame, the strongest type. She's on a whole other level."
But hold on, remember me? I teased about us meeting earlier, but let's face it—you probably haven't figured out who I am yet, did you..... I'm just pulling your leg we didn't meet yet; I highly doubt you mistook me for Helios. Oh, if only life were that exciting!
Now, imagine scanning the crowd's faces. Amidst the sea of uniqueness and flashiness, there's me—a white face with black hair and brown eyes that scream "average." It's almost comical trying to describe how utterly unremarkable I look. Think of the most normal guy you know; that's me. Not ugly, not handsome, not cute—just your run-of-the-mill, vanilla-flavored dude. The only thing remotely special about me is my lazy eyes that add an extra layer of dullness.
In this world where success is synonymous with standing out, where talented folks can become as influential as nations and the handsome ones defy description, I'm here, proudly representing the realm of mediocrity. Average talent, average height, average looks—it's like I'm the poster child for averageness. Even my name, Tomas Coper, screams "forgettable." But hey, someone's gotta keep the average alive, right?
Well that's me, Nice to meet you, I guess...
As the professional sideline observer that I am, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene. Like most people here I was actually rooting for these star-crossed lovers to finally hit it off. But, as expected (because, you know, life isn't a romantic comedy), that didn't happen.
Sofia's gaze met Helios's, her expression unreadable as she took in the scene before her. "Helios, you know I appreciate the gesture, but I have to decline. Maybe another time."
"Sigh, maybe seventh time's the charm?"
"Do you think Helios will ever catch a break?"
"Such a missed opportunity for a power couple."
As I watched Helios slump in disappointment, a tiny spark of sympathy flickered on his face. Abruptly shifting my gaze to Sofia, I couldn't help but notice her quick glance in my direction before she sauntered off.
Just as I was lost in my thoughts, a familiar voice shattered the moment from behind. "Tommy, I was looking for you everywhere?"
I turned to face a tall, seemingly innocent man in the academy suit, dark hair, black eyes behind glasses, and an aura of innocence—this was Bliss my best friend. Don't let that innocent expression fool you; Bliss is the most dangerous and ruthless person I've ever known. If you ask me for advice about Bliss, it's simple: don't get on his bad side. But despite his nature, he's been my friend, more like a brother, since I was six. Without him, I doubt I'd have made it this far.
Trying to play it cool, I replied, "it's nothing, Bliss. "
Bliss, always ready with a biting remark, glanced at Sofia leaving. "Ah, Sofia. Weren't you two bosom buddies once upon a time? Remind me why you two aren't exchanging friendship bracelets anymore?"
I rolled my eyes, smirking. " We were in different levels Bliss. Plus it was along time ago I doubt she even remember my name."
"Well, never liked the bitc anyway," Bliss retorted, injecting his trademark cynicism.
"So, what's up? Why were you looking for me?" I asked, cutting to the chase.
"2-Zes wants to meet. Says it's urgent," Bliss replied.
"I've class right now. Tell him we'll catch up after," I said, trying to prioritize my schedule.
"Class? Tommy, do you even know 2-Zes? Do you think he was asking?" Bliss's tone turned serious. "Remember why we're here at the academy. It's not for classes. Let's roll."
After a moment of hesitation, I relented. "Okay, let's go."
..
So, after the Flame made its grand entrance, humanity collectively held its breath, waiting for the monsters, aliens, or some kind of epic threat to show up and give us a run for our money. But guess what? Sixty years passed, and all we got was the Flame itself. Talk about anticlimactic, right? But hey, we're not ones to give up hope. Maybe there's a blockbuster twist waiting behind that Flame, something big, either good or bad. In the meantime, humans decided to get cozy with the Flame, learning how to harness its power.
But hold your horses; it's not just the good guys getting in on the action. Nope, the criminal masterminds didn't waste a second. They hopped on the Flame train too, leveling up like it's nobody's business. We're talking about the birth of the sixth criminal organization, folks. They're so powerful; they might as well be countries themselves. Cue the epic showdown between governments and these mega-organizations, turning humanity into a divided camp: criminals or law-abiding citizens. Now, where do you think I fit into this crazy world? Buckle up; you're about to find out.
In the glamorous streets of downtown New York, Bliss and I strolled into a quaint little restaurant. Picture this: the place was packed with about ten black guys, all sporting intimidating looks and a uniform shade of scary black. Ah, say hello to the Nigeries, one of the many gangs in town. These guys were pros at the drug game. Oh, did I forget to mention? Yours truly is in the business of selling the good stuff. Well, "drug dealer" sounds a tad too fancy; Bliss and I were more like corner boys, doing the dirty work for these fellas.
Now, before you start throwing judgment my way, let me paint you a picture. Bliss and I grew up in what you might call the hood. And let me tell you, if you think the hood is rough and lacking in opportunities, wait till you hear about life after the Flame hit. It's like a jungle out here, more dangerous than a maximum-security prison. The law? Ha, it's like they took a vacation and forgot to come back. Living a full life here? It's nothing short of a miracle. About 80% of the folks around here end up meeting their maker courtesy of a bullet.
So, when I say we didn't have much of a choice but to dip our toes into the mobster lifestyle to survive, I'm not kidding around. It was either that or become a statistic in this unforgiving concrete jungle.
As soon as Bliss and I stepped into the restaurant, a burly black dude with a savage glare, a low fade haircut, and a nasty scar across his face blocked our path. He had that look like he was itching for trouble, demanding "Hands up, gotta check you for weapons," as he gets grabby with Bliss.
Bliss, never one to back down, gave the guy a shove, his expression turning downright nasty. The guy, his voice dripping with savagery, taunted, "Are you sure you wanna do this now?"
Bliss, his tone icy cold, grabbed the guy's shirt, growling, "Yeah, let's do it, ugly motherfucker."
But just as things were about to get heated, a voice from behind intervened, drawling, "Ease up, let The white motherfuckers through."
A tall, skinny dude with a mean look and a low fade, rocking a sporty outfit like he's about to hit the court. This fine gentleman happens to be our distributor, or as he likes to go by, 2-Zes. I'm sure he's got a real name, but who needs that when you've got a cool nickname like 2-Zes, right? Bliss was about to make some noise, but I gave him the 'calm down, bro' signal as we approached 2-Zes' table.
"Sit!" he barked, playing the boss man routine. So, we plopped down across from him, trying to keep our poker faces on point while he casually cuts into his steak like it's no big deal. Then, he hits us with the expected line, "It's been two weeks since you two hit up that college I paid for, and what do I get? Did you forget why I sent you there? Why I'm shelling out the dough for you?"
Cue Bliss's smooth reply, "We're working on it, 2-Zes. But approaching the Sajada family? That's like trying to hug a cactus, you know? It takes time."
Well, 2-Zes wasn't having any of it. "I don't need excuses; I need results. The crows are giving us the boot, and you promised me a smooth transition."
"Just give us a couple of weeks, and we'll whip up some good news for you," I chimed in, trying to keep the peace with my calm voice.
2-Zes, ever the charming boss, gave us a pat on the back, metaphorically speaking. "I like you two, you kids are smart, made me some money over the years. But let's get this straight; that won't stop me from ending you if you mess up."
"Oh, no pressure at all," I replied, oozing calmness.
"But you're tardy, and you owe me," 2-Zes added, making sure we felt the weight of his disappointment. "I've got a special mission for you two."