A sudden white flash of light filled the screen.
A guy, probably in his early twenties, stood alone in the bright emptiness. His face was half in shadow, his eyes deep with hidden pain.
He spoke slowly, like every word came from the depth of his soul.
"Tough guy he is… You'll never know what's going on inside his mind. What condition he's in. What he's suffering from…"
And then—
FLASHBACK 1.
The screen turned soft and blurry. Memories from years ago started playing.
A 12-year-old boy walked slowly through the empty corridor of his school. His bag hanging loosely from one shoulder. His eyes filled with sadness. His steps heavy like the weight of the whole world was on him.
Behind him, a cheerful voice echoed.
"Oye Jordan, stop!"
A boy ran toward him, panting and smiling.
He reached Jordan and tried to cheer him up, "Don't be sad, buddy. Those students don't like you, even some teachers don't… but that doesn't mean you don't have real friends."
Jordan didn't say a word.
He stopped near a wall and leaned his back against it.
But inside… there was no wall strong enough to hold him up.
His voice cracked as he spoke.
"I lost my dad when I was just five… and my mom… she left me. She chose her own life over mine. Her own son..."
Tears started to build up in his eyes, but he fought them back.
"My grandparents… they took me in. Raised me. Loved me. Did everything they could. Thanks to them, I got into one of the best schools in Canada. But here—"
He paused, his lips trembling.
"These students… these teachers… all they do is look down on me. Like I'm dirt. Like I don't belong."
That was it.
He couldn't hold it anymore.
He fell to his knees.
His hands covering his face.
His cries echoed through the long corridor—raw and heart-shattering.
The boy beside him looked helpless. He wanted to comfort Jordan, but didn't know how.
"Just because I came from a small town… just because of that, they torture me every single day…"
Jordan's words were broken by his sobs.
Then—
A voice from the far end of the corridor cut through the silence.
"Crying is the weakest point of a being."
A new boy stepped forward.
Same age. Different section.
His eyes were sharp. His face calm.
And something in his vibe felt... different.
The boy stood quietly near them, his gaze fixed on Jordan—who was sitting on the floor, eyes red, tears still rolling down his cheeks.
He spoke in a cold, calm voice, loud enough to echo in the empty corridor.
"Jordan Thorne, 12 years old. Class 8th, Section A. Weak. Always scared. Bullied by classmates. Ignored by teachers. Completely helpless."
There was a strange seriousness on the boy's face—like he wasn't just saying it, he meant every word.
Jordan looked up at him. A fire lit inside him. His heart started beating faster, blood rushing through his veins. He pushed his hand on the floor and stood up slowly, chest rising with anger.
"Yes, I am Jordan Thorne!" he shouted, fists clenched tight.
"Weak, scared, alone. But at least I'm not like all of you!"
His voice cracked. His eyes burned. But his words got louder.
"I never hurt anyone. I always respected my elders. I smiled even when no one smiled back. I treated people like they mattered..."
He paused. His lips trembled. And then, he screamed—his voice louder than ever:
"But nobody gives a damn! No one even tries to understand how I feel! They just take everything from me—my kindness, my honesty, my peace—and give me pain in return!"
With all the rage boiling inside, Jordan ran toward the new boy and pushed him with all his strength.
But what happened next... no one expected.
The boy didn't even move. He stepped aside like he knew it was coming.
In the blink of an eye, he spun around and kicked Jordan hard in the stomach.
Jordan's small body flew back, hit the wall behind with a thud, and slid down to the floor.
He sat there. Mouth bleeding. Breathing heavy.
But this time... he didn't cry.
He didn't scream.
He didn't even look up.
He just leaned back against the wall, face down, still and silent.
As Jordan leaned against the wall—silent, bloody, and broken—his friend rushed to him, panic on his face.
"Hey Jordan! Are you okay?" he asked, falling to his knees beside him. His eyes widened in fear as he noticed the blood dripping from Jordan's mouth.
"You hit him like a monster!" he shouted at the new boy.
"How could you do that?! He's already broken!"
The new boy didn't move an inch. His face still calm, his eyes sharp like they had seen too much already.
"I'm Mark. From Dowson City. Yeah, maybe you've never heard of it."
He stepped forward, looking down at Jordan.
"Yes, I know what I did is wrong. I hit someone. But what made me do it... that reason is stronger than the mistake."
"I did this for him."
Mark kneeled beside Jordan, leaned closer, and spoke gently but firmly.
"Listen, boy... you need to stop seeing yourself as just a good and decent kid. The world doesn't care about good and decent."
"I'm not asking you to become like those bullies. But at least—at least start standing up for yourself."
Every word was like a punch—not just to Jordan, but also to his friend, who stood there frozen, listening.
He felt goosebumps all over his body. It was like something inside him had been shaken awake.
Mark slowly got up and turned to Jordan's friend.
"I've been through this too. Bullied by this system. Ignored because I came from a place no one talks about."
"And yes, they'll suspend me for what I did today. I'm not a hero. I'm just a guy who chose to fight back—just once."
He took a final look at Jordan, lying quiet but awake—eyes filled with something new.
Then, without another word, Mark turned and started walking away. His footsteps echoed down the long, empty corridor.
The silence grew louder with every step.
Then, slowly… the flashback began to fade.
And that bright white light returned.
The guy's voice came back—soft, almost like a whisper now:
"After that day, everyone heard about what happened. The story spread like wildfire. Just two boys... one hit, one suspended."
"Jordan's grandparents filed a complaint. Mark got punished. Maybe because he was from an unknown city. Maybe because no one really cared to understand him."
The voice began to echo… fading into the distance…
And that bright light slowly turned into black.
A deep, dark black that covered the whole screen.
Like the end of a memory.
Like the beginning of something else.
That voice… that echo from the flashback… it hit Evelyn deep inside.
Her eyes snapped open.
She gasped for air, as if she had been drowning. Her heart was pounding hard.
"What... what was that?" she whispered to herself, feeling a chill run through her body.
The vision in her mind—it wasn't just a dream. It felt real.
Strong.
Like it was meant to wake her up.
"I met that guy... just a few days ago," she remembered.
"He told me this story. I didn't pay attention back then. But now... it feels powerful. Like it's giving me strength."
Her thoughts were louder. Her chest rising and falling quickly.
"Something inside me is changing… I can feel it."
She looked around.
Everyone in the bus was quiet now. The passengers were seated in two rows—girls on one side, boys on the other.
"They separated us," Evelyn noticed.
She scanned the bus quickly.
"Where's Ethan...?" she mumbled, searching for his face in the crowd.
Far behind, Jacob was busy. A small transmitter device in his hand. He was trying to connect to his team.
Noelle walked over to him. Her steps heavy, her face tense.
"How much longer?" she asked.
Jacob looked up and whispered, "Maybe half an hour more. The bus is still moving, so the signal's weak. It's taking time."
Noelle didn't say anything. Just let out a breath through her nose and stepped away.
She held her gun tight and walked to the front of the bus.
Then turned around to face everyone.
Her voice was low, but sharp. She smiled slightly while playing with her hair and holding her gun loose in her hand.
"Alright, listen to me," she said.
"What I'm about to say might sound weird... but it's real. And you're going to follow it."
The passengers looked up, fear in their eyes.
Noelle paused. Then smiled again.
"It's simple. Give me your cash. Your jewelry. Your fancy watches, rings, whatever expensive thing you're carrying."
"I know you love them. But trust me—your life is more valuable than all of it."
She looked around the bus. No one moved.
"You might think I'm playing games. But I'm not. You want to survive? Then show me you care more about life than your stuff."
Her words hit hard.
Some people began to cry. Others slowly reached into their bags, their pockets, taking out whatever they had.
And just like that—
The fear she wanted to build inside them…
Worked.
The bus was silent.
But it was the kind of silence filled with fear and waiting.
The kind that only breaks when something big happens.
At the very back of the bus, Ethan sat quietly.
His sharp eyes locked onto Noelle, who was moving slowly between the seats, collecting cash, jewelry, and whatever expensive things the passengers had.
Ethan's mind was racing.
"What if... I keep turning airplane mode on and off?" he whispered to himself, holding his phone low.
"Maybe... just maybe... the digital friction could create some kind of connection. It's a small chance. But worth trying."
He tapped his phone, switching the airplane mode on and off again and again.
That's when he noticed something—
Evelyn had woken up.
She was looking around, clearly searching for someone.
And then, their eyes met.
The distance between them wasn't too much. Enough to catch a sign.
Ethan quickly raised his phone and gave a tiny signal to Evelyn, flashing the airplane mode button on and off.
Evelyn's eyes lit up.
She understood.
"Airplane mode... boost connection. A simple trick to grab some signal. Maybe it'll work," she thought.
Without wasting a second, she typed a short message to the emergency services. And another one—to Ethan.
They needed to communicate.
They needed a plan.
Meanwhile, Ethan kept working his trick too, praying it would help.
But time was running out.
Noelle was moving closer. Step by step. And now, she was just two seats away from him.
Ethan's heart thumped hard in his chest.
Quickly, he shut off his phone and tucked it away. He grabbed his wallet and the small watch from his wrist, getting ready to hand them over.
Noelle stopped right in front of him.
She smiled that creepy smile of hers.
"Looks like the golden boy is not happy," she said, tilting her head.
"What happened? Don't want to give me your stuff?"
Ethan didn't blink. His eyes stared deep into hers.
"Do you even know," he said in a low voice, "what the punishment is for the crime you're committing right now?"
Noelle chuckled and leaned a little closer.
"Nope," she said, running her fingers through Ethan's hair, "but I'm sure you do."
Ethan closed his eyes for a second.
He didn't react. He didn't push her away.
Because he knew—
The small plan he had...
It wouldn't work without Evelyn seeing the signal.
And right now, all he could do was wait.
And trust.