Remy Moneyclip never walked.
He glided.
While most kids clattered through the halls of Hollow Creek Elementary like pinballs in sneakers, Remy strolled with purpose—head high, back straight, and a smug look that screamed:
"I have a platinum card and better hair than you."
He was ten, short blonde hair parted just right, pink eyes scanning the world like he owned it—and in some cases, he did. His sneakers were custom imported from somewhere only billionaires vacationed, his backpack was self-heating, and his lunchbox had a fingerprint lock. The cafeteria staff were convinced he was a tiny CEO.
"Move, peasant!" Remy barked, gently pushing a confused third grader out of his way.
"Remy!" called Mrs. Fernwick, his fifth-period art teacher, chasing after him. "Where are you going? You're missing papier-mâché time!"
Remy stopped just long enough to look offended.
"I have an emergency, madam," he said, placing one hand dramatically on his chest. "My cousin Jake is likely doing something completely idiotic, and it is my sacred duty to witness—and mock—it."
Before Mrs. Fernwick could protest, Remy turned a sharp corner and headed outside to the VIP garden—a fenced-off patch of grass that didn't officially exist but had somehow appeared when Remy "donated" ten thousand dollars to the PTA with a signed letter from "his legal team."
He plopped onto a velvet-lined bench and pulled out his designer tablet.
"Let's see what my dear chaos-magnet cousin is up to…"
He tapped into the school's internal surveillance system, which he may or may not have hacked last semester during recess.
The camera feed cut to the gym.
Jake Tetravin was showing off, as usual—this time by slam-dunking a basketball with ridiculous flips, loud yelling, and the kind of ego that made Remy want to throw a cupcake at him.
"Tch. Amateur," Remy smirked.
He closed the feed and sighed, gazing up at the clouds. Just as he was about to open his private stock-trading app (don't ask how he has one), something buzzed in his pocket.
A tiny golden pager.
Not for public use.
His eyes narrowed.
He pulled it out and read the glowing message:
> "Energy surge detected. Magical tech interference near Building C. Level 2 alert. Family members advised to check in."
Remy blinked.
"Magical… tech?"
Suddenly, the ground under his bench gave a low, mechanical click.
"Oh no. Not again."
The bench sank into the earth with a smooth whirrrr. Remy's scream echoed briefly before being cut off as he disappeared underground.
---
Underground: The Vault of the Moneyclip Clan
The bench landed softly in a wide, neon-lit chamber beneath the school—part secret base, part underground bank vault. Holographic displays glowed on the walls, and ancient magical runes pulsed alongside sleek sci-fi terminals.
Remy stood up and brushed invisible dust off his designer blazer.
From the side wall, a door hissed open and an older man in a tuxedo emerged—his butler and battle trainer, Mr. Cranford.
"You rang, Master Remy," the man said with a bow.
"Cranford. Situation?"
"There's been a resonance spike. Possibly linked to the Tetravins."
Remy scoffed. "It always is. Has Reggie done something weird again?"
"Unconfirmed, sir. But there's chatter. Something is waking up. Something... ancient."
Remy rolled his eyes. "Of course. It's always something ancient. Why can't we ever get something modern, like a cursed smartwatch or an evil app?"
He turned toward the vault's weapon rack and reached for his personalized gauntlet—Goldfinger X-10, a sleek bracer equipped with magic-detecting sonar, energy shielding, and a snack compartment.
He slid it onto his arm with a satisfying click.
"Cranford, prep the hoverboard. If there's a problem, I want to be the first one there to say I told you so."
"Very good, Master Remy."
"And notify Jake that I'm coming. Just so he knows his better-looking cousin is en route to save the day. Again."
---
Outside, moments later, students looked up as a golden hoverboard zipped through the skies above Hollow Creek Elementary, leaving behind glittering contrails and the faint echo of a song that sounded suspiciously like a boy-band remix of Beethoven.
Remy grinned, hair blowing in the wind.
"Let's see what magical mess we're stepping into this time…"