Chapter 12: Riot Sparks
The rooftop was a perch above the chaos, its concrete cool under Landon's sneakers, the night air sharp with the bite of autumn and the faint ozone tang of distant electronics. The quad below buzzed with students, their laughter and chatter a low hum, but the tension was a coiled spring, ready to snap.
Landon stood beside Andre, the glow of a portable terminal casting Andre's face in a harsh blue light, his fingers dancing across the keypad with a thief's precision. The terminal's hum was a faint echo of the Please Kill Me System, a reminder of Landon's own rebellion.
"This is it," he thought, his lip-biting tic flaring, his heart racing with defiance. "Vought's lies, exposed. Let's light the fuse." The plan was simple but reckless: hack the campus screens, mock Vought's rankings, and spark a riot that could expose The Woods.
"You ready?" Andre asked, his voice low, his eyes gleaming with a thrill that mirrored Landon's own.
"Born ready," Landon said, his grin wild, his sarcasm a mask for the fear in his gut. The quad's screens loomed below, their Vought logos gleaming like corporate gods, a challenge he couldn't resist.
"Three… two… one… now!" Andre's fingers hit the final key, the terminal going dark. The quad's screens flickered, the Vought logo dissolving into a grainy video of Professor Brink, his face distorted, a text crawl blazing across the bottom: "The Godolkin Rankings are a Lie. The Woods is Real. Vought Is Watching."
The quad fell silent, a collective gasp rising from the crowd, then a roar—a raw, primal sound of shock and defiance. Students pointed, shouted, their faces a mix of fear and rebellion. From Andre's perspective, the chaos was a masterpiece, his adrenaline a wildfire. We did it, he thought, his pen spinning faster, a manic grin splitting his face. Vought's gonna burn.
"Yes!" Andre yelled, pumping his fist, his voice a triumphant cry. "We did it, man! We actually did it!"
Landon's grin matched his, the thrill a rush that drowned his guilt. "This is bigger than me," he thought, his eyes on the chaos below. "This is for all of us."
[Prank success: Campus is buzzing. Vought's not happy. You're a walking, talking PR nightmare. Good job.]
The rooftop's edge was a boundary between safety and chaos, the air charged with the crowd's energy. Andre's laughter was infectious, his pen a blur. "They're gonna lose their minds," he said, his voice a throaty laugh. "This is just the beginning."
The hallway was a stark contrast, its air still and heavy with the scent of disinfectant and old books, the fluorescent lights casting a cold glow. Landon met Marie in a secluded corner, her dark eyes blazing with a fire that matched the quad's chaos. From her perspective, the prank was a revelation, a crack in Vought's facade that fueled her resolve. He's fighting back, she thought, her blood pulsing, her hands flexing with latent power. And I'm with him.
"Landon," she said, her voice low, intense, her Midwest twang sharp with purpose. "Was that you?"
"Yeah," Landon said, his voice steady, no lies this time. "She deserves the truth," he thought, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope.
Marie stepped closer, her eyes unyielding. "They're lying to us," she said, her voice a fierce whisper. "About the rankings, about everything. The Woods—it's real, isn't it?"
Landon nodded, the weight of her trust a lifeline. "It's real," he said, his voice soft but firm.
"Then we fight," Marie said, her words a vow, her hands clenching, a promise of blood and rebellion. "We expose them. We burn it all down."
Landon laughed, a raw, genuine sound, his sarcasm softening. "Damn, Marie, you've got a bloody passion for this, don't you?"
Her lips curved into a wry smile, a spark of humor in her fire. "You're not the only one who likes a fight, Landon."
[Marie's all in: Rebel duo forming. Try not to get her killed, you're not a very good babysitter.]
The hallway's silence was a cocoon, their bond a forged steel, stronger than any power. A memory flickered—Landon's sister, her fierce arguments over dinner, her fire a mirror to Marie's. "We're in this together," he thought, his resolve hardening. The riot was coming, and they were its spark.
The quad was a sea of chaos, its air thick with the scent of ozone and sweat, the screens' glow casting jagged shadows. Emma found Landon by the founder's statue, its bronze surface pitted, a faded plaque reading "Strength Through Unity" half-erased by time. Her yellow sweater was a beacon, her hands trembling as she grabbed his, her fingers cold against his warmth. From her perspective, Landon was a reckless flame, burning bright but dangerous, and her fear for him was a knot in her chest.
"Landon," she said, her voice a trembling whisper, her eyes wide with worry. "What are you doing? Vought's cameras are everywhere. They'll see you."
"Hey," Landon said, his voice soft, his hands squeezing hers, a grounding touch. "We were careful. Blind spot, remember?"
"It's not fine," Emma insisted, her voice rising, a tremor running through her. "They'll come for you. They'll… get you."
Landon's heart twisted, her fear a mirror to his own. "She's scared for me," he thought, his lip-biting tic easing as he leaned closer, his voice a teasing murmur. "I'm a survivor, Emma. And besides, we've got a date to get to, right? Can't let Vought ruin that."
Her blush was faint, her shoulders relaxing, a nervous giggle escaping her. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," Landon said, the pun light, his grin warm. Her laughter was a spark, a promise of something brighter amidst the chaos.
[Emma's got your back: Romance rising. Don't fuck this up, you romantic disaster.]
The quad's chaos faded, the statue's plaque a quiet reminder of their bond. Landon held her hands, the night air cool, the rebellion a distant roar. The date was a beacon, a promise he'd fight to keep, no matter the cost.
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