The soft hum of city traffic seeps into Tony's dimly lit bedroom. A streetlight casts long, restless shadows through the blinds as he lies awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The faint memory of the fight club still lingers— the roar of the crowd, the masked fighters, the strange token now sitting in his jacket pocket. He hasn't touched it since he got home.
He sits up, rubs his face, and exhales.
The mundane rhythm of life resumes: brushing teeth, pulling on a shirt, tying laces. But every movement feels slightly slower, heavier— like the world hasn't quite caught up to the weight of what he's seen.
[5 minutes later]
Tony walks into the kitchen. His mother is at the stove, still in her work clothes, looking tired but sharp. His older sister, Olivia, sits at the table, scrolling through her phone, earbuds in.
"You're late." His mom says.
"I'm still early for school." Tony replies.
"That's not what I said." She turns and gives him a quick look-over.
"You didn't sleep again." She states.
"Didn't know you were checking." Tony argues, grabbing toast.
"She was. She always does." Olivia speaks up.
Tony shoots Olivia a look. She glances up, smirks faintly, then returns to her screen.
"Try not to make your teachers call me again. Just... stay out of trouble, Tony." His mom sighs.
"I always do." He mutters back.
No one really believes that, but no one says it. Tony grabs his bag and heads for the door.
"Tell Dahlia I said Hi" Olivia says.
"Uh huh, love you too" Tony says leaving.
Tony walks out into the cold morning air, zipping up his jacket. As he moves through the city streets, the chaos of last night feels distant— like a dream he isn't sure he had.
[After the walk]
Tony steps onto campus, the chill of the morning still clinging to his jacket. Students move in lazy clusters, some chatting, some half-asleep. The sky is grey, heavy like it might rain.
"Well look who survived the night."
Tony turns. Dahlia stands a few steps ahead, hoodie pulled up, backpack slung low. Her smile is that perfect mix of mischief and concern.
"Barely. You always wait by the gate like some anime side character?" He jokes.
"Only when I'm trying to be dramatic. You look like hell, by the way." She replies walking beside him.
"Appreciate the honesty." Tony pouts
"Didn't say it was a bad look." She lightly punches his arm.
They start walking toward the school building together.
"You really weren't answering messages last night. Where'd you go?" She questions.
"Out. Needed some air." He shrugs.
"Out... where exactly? Mars? The void?" She raises her brow.
"Somewhere in between." Tony smirks.
She eyes him curiously, but doesn't push.
"Whatever. As long as you didn't get jumped again." Dahlia says concerned.
"Who says I got jumped the first time?" Tony laughs.
"Tony, you came to school with a limp and a bandage over your eyebrow." Dahlia frowns.
"Could've been a passionate dance-off." Tony boasts
"You dance like a dying giraffe." Dahlia says looking unamused.
They then share a laugh as they round the corner into the gym building. The bell hasn't rung yet, so the gym teacher gives them a few laps to warm up.
Tony and Dahlia jog together around the indoor track. Their conversation flows between light teasing and moments of realness.
"So are you gonna tell me what's really going on?" She questions.
"Not much to tell." He replies.
"You disappear, come back looking like you fought a vending machine, and now you're doing that brooding 'I'm fine' thing. You've got main character syndrome." She states.
Tony chuckles "Fine. I'm just... tired, that's all."
"You know I worry, right?" She says quietly..
Tony glances over at her. She's not joking now.
"Yeah. I know."
They keep jogging. A comfortable silence settles in.
"I'll tell you. Just... not yet." Tony breaks the silence.
"Okay. But if you turn into some masked vigilante, I better be your sidekick." She nods.
"Deal." Tony replies.
[After School – School Courtyard]
The final bell rang what felt like hours ago, but the air outside was still buzzing with leftover chatter, the low hum of tired students spilling into the courtyard.
Tony steps out of the school building, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. Dahlia walks beside him, tugging her sleeves down as the breeze picks up.
"Gym class kicked my ass," she mutters, stretching her neck. "Why does Coach always act like we're training for the Olympics?"
Tony chuckles under his breath, they reach the end of the school steps. "You say that, but you left me in the dust out there. I swear you were racing someone I couldn't see."
Dahlia smirks. "Maybe I was. Gotta stay ahead of the ghosts, right?"
He side-eyes her. "You good?"
"Yeah. Just tired," she shrugs, but there's a flicker in her eyes— like her thoughts are elsewhere.
The world around them is mellow. Normal. But as they pass the tall gates, something shifts.
Across the street, under the shadow of an old lamppost, a man dressed entirely in white stands still— too still. His suit is clean and crisp, almost untouched by the world around him. His mask is pale, mouthless, featureless... except for two black, glowing eyes that seem to pulse faintly beneath the afternoon light.
Tony stops walking. He can't explain why. It's not fear. Not even recognition. Just... weight. Like the air itself thickened.
"Do you see that guy?"
"What guy?" Dahlia says confused.
She glances around but sees nothing. Across the street, the man is gone.
"Tony?"
Tony stares for a second longer, blinking slowly. Nothing there. Empty sidewalk. Just passing cars.
"...Forget it. Thought I saw someone."
But he knows it wasn't his mind playing tricks. That man was real. Or at least, it felt real. And for the briefest moment, he swears time... slipped. Like the world paused, tilted, then caught itself again.
They reach the sidewalk. The streets are glowing with early sunset, painting everything in soft golds and purples. Dahlia stops at the corner.
"This is me," she says.
Tony nods. "Later, Dahl."
"Hey—" she adds as he turns away, "whatever's going on... don't keep it all to yourself, alright?"
Tony pauses. The weight of the coin in his pocket seems to pulse.
"...Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."
He walks off.
But just as he turns the corner, for a split second—barely noticeable— a flicker of motion appears in the reflection of a shop window beside him. Not his reflection.
Not quite.
A figure walks just a step behind him in the glass—identical frame, identical posture. But its eyes glow faintly, body seems to look like it's made of tar and its grin is far too wide.
Tony blinks. Looks again. It's just him. Alone.
He exhales sharply and keeps walking, shaking it off.
Behind him, the glass subtly distorts—like something unseen is watching, waiting for the cracks to grow wider.
[Arriving Home — At the Door]
Tony opens the door still thinking about the man and the reflection he saw.
Tony steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The house is dim, the only light coming from the kitchen. The smell of something warm— maybe stew— lingers faintly in the air.
His mom is there, back turned to him, quietly stirring a pot on the stove. She doesn't look up when he enters.
"You're late again" His mom says.
Tony dropping his bag by the door
"Sorry, I had walked Dahlia home"
A pause. The sound of the spoon scraping the bottom of the pot fills the silence. His mom then speaks up.
"She's a good friend, you could use more of those"
Tony leans against the doorframe, watching her. He hesitates.
"Hey Mom.. do you ever feel like there's something following you? Like... time slips by for second, just enough for you to notice"
She pauses, turns slightly, confused. Studies him.
"What are you saying, you're making no sense."
A quiet moment. She turns the stove off and ladles food into a bowl. Walks it over and sets it on the table without a word. Tony slowly sits.
His mom sits across from him.
"What's up with you? You seem distant."
Tony doesn't respond at first, just stirring the bowl with his spoon.
"I think i'm just tired."
She doesn't say anything. But she softens her expression.
"You're still my son. Even when you shut me out."
Another pause, not awkward— just heavy.
"What was father like?"
She stiffens.
"He was a kind man, he was very protective, I could say" she laughed silently.
Tony could feel that deep down something was wrong, he wanted to know more of his father and why he was never in his life.
"What happened to him?"
She sighs and meets Tony's eyes.
"He left, he came back as if he had gotten into a fight. On that night, he told me he had to leave, he got an invitation to a club." She shakes her head, resting her hand on her face.
"He didn't explain. He just left. That was the last time I saw him"