So there I was, staring at my reflection in the mirror, muttering a confused "Okay..." I knew I was inside my own novel because I remembered this passage as if I had just written it. The initial villain, Viktor Frankl, had just committed a 'fatal accident' with me. The scene? I had placed this secondary character and Viktor together in the bathroom, on the last day of the academy for the gifted, graduation day, because why not add drama to the climax, right?
Viktor, the bully as always, tried to intimidate the poor secondary character, who had always been a target of bullying. But guess what? The supporting character finally found his courage and unleashed a bunch of truths in Viktor's face, insulting him and his family. And Viktor, in a fit of rage, finished him off. The plan was for another generic character to find the body and react like a startled gazelle, or maybe just drop their phone with a dramatic 'Dun-dun-dun' in the background.
This whole scene was just to show the readers what kind of guy Viktor was. After all, he would be the antagonist of the first arc of the story, which would begin with all the students who passed the year at the 'Academy for the Gifted' going to the 'Battle Academy', a kind of high school for young people with superpowers.
And Viktor? Oh, he was livid because he had lost the top spot to the protagonist, the most incredible guy in the story, who reached the top without breaking a sweat. You know those soccer geniuses who, when asked how they made that play, just shrug and say 'Oh, I just did it'? It was kind of like that.
---
Shaking my hair with my hands, I tried to rid myself of the pathetic dampness and the sewer aroma that followed me. It was time to get out of the bathroom before they started mistaking me for a male version of the "blonde in the bathroom."
There I was, all dapper in a black tuxedo, ready for graduation. I should have been there, going up on stage to grab that blue, cylindrical diploma. But honestly? Goodbye and blessings! If Viktor saw me, he'd have the expression of someone who'd seen a ghost. And, of course, he'd try, you know, to kill me... again.
Neo, the protagonist with a cheat of superpowers, is the kind of guy that makes you question if you're playing on easy mode while everyone else is on hard. The guy can copy any superpower, store them, and use them three times. It's like having a deck of tricks up your sleeve in a boxing match. After three uses, poof, the superpower disappears from your list, but until then, he's practically invincible.
And there he was, at the graduation, along with the rest of the main cast. But me? I was sneaking out, taking the back exit like a ninja. Lucky for me, I didn't run into anyone I knew. It seems that being a secondary character has its advantages, after all. In this world, it seems I'm as alone as I was in mine. Goodbye, academy. Goodbye, Viktor. Goodbye, the possibility of being killed again. It's time to find out what an extra character does when they go off-script.
After escaping the graduation, I found some keys in my pocket and, lo and behold, an address and a phone number. Maybe it was the secondary character's precaution, or maybe it was just a half-baked script.
The world outside? It seemed like an updated version of my old one, with a technological touch and a sense of emptiness, probably because of the cyberpunk style of the city. I arrived home, a place in a questionable neighborhood, thanks to a taxi and some coins I had.
And the house? Well, it was the basics of the basics: a table, a bed, and nothing more. No parents, no complications. It was time to accept this new reality and see where this adventure would take me.
---
Insomnia really got to me, anxiety kept sleep at bay. So there I went, fiddling with the phone that, by some miracle, survived my "assassination." It had a password, but also a clue in the form of a riddle that I easily solved.
The phone? It was really just for passing the time, so I dove into the internet and did an intensive dive into this new world and its culture, until the sun came up.
The next day, ding! An email from the academy for the gifted. I was accepted into the battle academy, rank 230. In two weeks, or 14 days to be more precise, the entrance ceremony takes place. And me? Well, I was classified as an assassin, which means I'm going to the assassins' club. Dangerous? Definitely. And my superpower? Still a mystery. Nothing new on the front, just a tad more physical strength than normal. Let's see where this goes.
---
"Ah, what frustration," I murmured to my reflection in the mirror. Two weeks have passed and I've basically... done nothing. Surfed the internet, ate when I was hungry, and laughed at the nonsense online. But a way out of this world?
Nothing.
Zero.
Not a single clue.
And now, the big day: the Entrance Ceremony of the Battle Academy in New York. Hours that promised to be as long as a marathon of bad movies. I didn't want to go, but the threat of expulsion came by letter, along with a uniform that looked more like a low-budget cosplay.
"I need to go, but..." The truth is, I was still in the dark about who threw me into this mess, why, and how. And deep down, a part of me wanted to find out. Maybe this ceremony would be the beginning of something... or the end. There was only one way to find out.
It was six in the morning and the clock was unforgiving. Late? Maybe only in theory, because in practice, I was more lost than a soap opera character in a Thursday episode. Shower? Check. Someone else's toothbrush? Yuck, but mission accomplished. Toothpaste? Well, at least that was familiar.
And then, what would you do if you were thrown into another world? I don't know either, but when life gives you a script, you follow it. So, ignoring the danger and the existential crisis, I stuffed myself into the battle academy uniform. Luggage? Only the essentials.
Strutting in the uniform, I would probably draw envious glances, but who cares? Bigger problems were knocking at the door, and I had to answer.
With my hand on the doorknob, I took one last look back.
This apartment, my temporary home for two weeks, where every corner already carried a memory, albeit brief. The key in my pocket, with the address that guided me here, felt more like a talisman than a piece of metal. Yes, I would miss this place.
The Battle Academy, a bright spot in the heart of New York, awaited me. As I left, I knew that I might never return.
**Sound of door closing.**
Leaving behind the room that welcomed me, I was ready to dive headfirst into this world I created.