Micah stood before the so-called school, wondering if this was the right place. He'd already had his doubts about all this, and now... now he was beginning to think he should've listened to them.

The school before him wasn't quite... well, a school. Honestly, from what little he could make out with his sixth sense, it seemed to be more like a warehouse of some sort. Or some kind of abandoned factory. It was big. That much he could tell for sure. And cold. If it had electricity, it wasn't in use.

He winced. That wouldn't be fun in the upcoming winter.

He forced his feet to move again, following the man who called himself Scythe. They'd walked all the way here. But not straight from the neighborhood in which they'd met. No, first, they'd gone to go pick up some other kid.

He was a chatty boy named Max who'd lived not too far from where Micah had been. Apparently, he was the one Scythe had been in the area to fetch in the first place. Running into Micah had just been a happy accident.

Micah turned his attention to the boy who scampered alongside Scythe eagerly. From what he could tell from Max's endless prattling narrative, Max came from a bloodline of villainy. Though his happy-go-lucky demeanor didn't quite scream evil or ruthless or ambitious criminal, Micah knew there was likely more to him than met the eye.

For one, he seemed to be part robot. Or something. He had a prosthetic arm, leg, and eye, and part of his face was covered in metal plating. Micah could sense the electricity that coursed through the boy's mechanical parts. It was so fascinating and so strange to him. He'd heard of mechanical prosthetics, but he'd never realized they could be used to such an extreme extent.

Whatever had happened to Max must've been nearly lethal.

"Micah!"

Micah tuned back into the land of the living with a start. Scythe's irritated tone implied that this probably wasn't the first time he'd tried to get Micah's attention. Micah lifted his chin, trying to come off as a bit more attentive.

"Sorry, I was—"

"Not paying attention." Scythe tutted. "I'd think someone with your background would be a bit more aware of his surroundings. More vigilant."

Micah bit back an exasperated sigh. "I was paying attention to my surroundings. Just not you."

"It'll do you well to listen to me, boy." The villain said. "You're here to learn from me. So watch and learn. And listen."

It was all Micah could do not to correct the man. Scythe hadn't seemed to notice Micah's blindness yet, thanks to the glasses he wore to cover his sightless eyes and scars, and Micah was planning to keep it that way. For now, at least. He wasn't sure if he trusted the man enough to hand him any sort of weakness.

Max, at Scythe's side, shifted awkwardly, but said nothing. Micah frowned. He could already tell he wasn't likely going to be able to rely on the boy as any sort of ally. The boy was a follower, through and through. He was already drawn deep into Scythe's little school scheme. He was honestly far too trusting and naive for this line of work. But that wasn't any of Micah's business.

Scythe just stared at Micah for a moment more, as if trying to make sure his point had hit home, then he pivoted and stalked off. Behind the shelter of his shades, Micah rolled his eyes. All this man needed was a cape, and he'd be a picture-perfect comic book villain.

Max scurried after the man, and Micah begrudgingly followed as well. Already, he could tell this was not going to be the most wonderful experience. But he didn't really have a lot of options right now. And out of all of the paths before him, this school seemed to be the best to take.

The soft clank of Max's metal foot on concrete warned Micah of an upcoming slab of pavement. He lifted his next step a little higher to avoid tripping as he approached what seemed to be some sort of cracked driveway. What was left of it, anyways. He followed the pair ahead of him up to a door that creaked open. Micah imagined that if he could see, the scene he was walking towards would look like something straight out of a horror movie.

Micah stepped into the building and feigned looking around. He didn't actually need to look around to use his sixth sense to its fullest, but it sure helped add to the illusion that he could actually see. But right now, he was kind of glad he couldn't see. Just judging by his remaining senses, this place was far from the standards of living he was used to from certain villains.

For one, the air itself was of horrible quality. It was thick and still, and full of dust and grimy moisture. Each breath made him feel like he was filling his lungs with mildew. He wondered if he could develop asthma just from living here for too long.

A soft metallic creaking overhead caught his attention. He spun around, facing the wall that had been at his back, focusing on where the sound had come from. There. High up in the rafters, nestled into a windowsill two stories up, sat a winged girl. One who seemed to be taking stock of the new arrivals from above. When he faced her, she flinched, ducking back a bit.

So she recognized him. Just like how he recognized her. She was the very same girl who'd stolen his wallet earlier today. What were the odds that she lived here? That she was one of Scythe's little protégées?

He belatedly wondered if Scythe had staged the pickpocketing to make Micah a bit more vulnerable, a bit more likely to accept his offer. Or perhaps it was a test.

He turned his head away, but kept his sixth sense trained on her. She moved back to the edge of the sill, probably thinking herself sheltered from his view. He smirked a little to himself. Little did she know, he had the advantage here. She might have a bird's eye view, but his view wasn't limited by eyes.

Now curious, he pulled his attention away from her and felt around the area for more people. There had to be more. But to his surprise, he only could detect a few more. Three young men in a room on the second floor. But far away as he was, he couldn't make out any details.

Scythe led Micah and Max towards a set of stairs, which Micah hesitantly approached. Stairs had been the bane of his existence lately. He kept a hand touching the guardrail as he ascended, lagging behind the others as he painstakingly made sure not to trip.

He couldn't help but think of that night not too long ago. When he'd been beaten black and blue, Adelaide had helped him up the stairs to their apartment. Now... he didn't have her help. He was on his own. Really on his own.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he was suddenly startled as a winged figure landed heavily in front of him. He tensed, his energy stirring within as he prepared to defend himself. Distracted as he was, he hadn't detected her approach. But she just stared up at him for a moment, then let out a soft, derisive huff and marched after Scythe and Max.

Micah sighed.

He was doing great.

Soon, he found himself standing in the doorway of a cold little room, the last to arrive. The three young men he'd sensed before were sitting in a chair, standing towards the back of the room, or leaning against a wall. Max hovered near the middle, and the winged girl walked decidedly towards the boy who stood in the back. Scythe stood before them all, silent as he waited for Micah to enter.

Micah ignored the gazes of the others as he walked in and moved to stand somewhere he wouldn't have to be near the others. He folded his arms and just waited. For whatever it was that they all seemed to be waiting for.

"Welcome, my students." Scythe's voice drew his attention. "Welcome to my glorious new school for young villains-in-training."

Micah had to hold himself back from laughing. This all felt like some big joke. Glorious? New? This warehouse was far from either of those things.

"You all are here to learn from me." The villain continued. "You wish to become great villains. You are here to evolve, to make yourselves better. To learn how to go beyond being just some simple criminal."

Micah wondered how many of the people present were actually buying this. Max sure seemed to be. The robo-boy was eating up each and every word. The winged girl and the boy next to her seemed almost as attentive. The other two boys, however, seemed a bit less eager to take the man at his word.

"You're all here to learn together," Scythe said. "But make no mistake. You are not a team. In the criminal underworld, it is every man for himself. And it will be no different here."

Micah frowned a little. He understood that sentiment, though... he didn't quite believe it to be true. In his experience, teamwork had only ever made things easier. But he supposed he hadn't had the most normal experience growing up. In regards to anything, really.

"Now, we'll make our introductions." Scythe finished. "Learn each other's names well. Everyone here is now your rival."

The moment his mouth shut, the winged girl stepped forward. "I'm Rose Faux." She declared. "And this—" she gestured to the boy beside her. "— is Colton O'Hare. We're Scythe's most senior students. We've been with him the longest." She folded her arms smugly, radiating something akin to pride. "So watch your back."

Micah snorted at the challenge. He wondered if she could actually live up to it.

"I'm Max." The cyborg boy waved at the group, an unusually friendly gesture. "My grandmother was a very famous villain. My parents were villains too. I want to be a villain like them."

"Max, what?" The winged girl, Rose, pressed. "What's your full name?"

"Oh, uh—" Max stammered. "Power. Max Power."

"Max Power?" Micah couldn't help but chime in. Now he was really sure he was on some sort of prank show.

"Well... Maximum Power. But you all can call me Max."

"Your name is Maximum Power?" Micah couldn't believe it. This was ridiculous.

"Yeah." Max said a bit defensively. "It is. Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Micah snorted, shaking his head.

"Well, what's your name, then?" Max said almost challengingly.

"Micah Pierce." Micah raised an eyebrow in the boy's direction.

"And— what else? Why are you here?" Rose asked when Micah didn't continue.

"Don't worry about it." Micah shrugged. He wasn't about to spill his backstory to a room full of strangers.

Rose opened her mouth, but before she could protest, Scythe interrupted her.

"He doesn't need to say." The villain said smoothly. "He's undoubtedly qualified to be here. Far more qualified than the rest of you."

Micah winced a little on the inside as all eyes turned on him. He wondered if Scythe had been aware that by saying that, he'd just made everyone in the room Micah's enemy. No one liked to be told they were less than anyone else. Especially not people his age.

It had probably been intentional. After all, Scythe had already said that he didn't want any of them to be working together. This way, not a soul would want to work with Micah.

After a moment of painfully awkward silence, the boy who sat in the chair spoke up. He had long hair and sat primly, his legs crossed and hands folded in his lap.

"I am Lian Huì Sè." He said, his voice low and lyrical. "Son of the Chinese hero Yin-Yang."

All went silent again as everyone processed the words. Micah wondered if this 'Lian' was in the same situation as he was. After all, Micah had been living with his hero sister right before all this. Perhaps Lian, too, had been overwhelmed by the pressures of a heroic family and had turned to a life of crime for solace.

"You're the son of a hero?"

Micah blinked in the direction of Max's voice. All this time, the boy had sounded young, naive, almost innocent. But now, there was anger in his voice. Suspicion. An undercurrent of hatred.

Lian just nodded, undaunted. "Yes. My mother was quite the hero, too. Very famous in the East."

The tension in the room was palpable. Micah could quite literally sense the temperature rising as anger grew in Max and Rose alike. But he did nothing about it. Intervening would be Scythe's job. If the man even cared enough to do so. He didn't seem much like the peacekeeping type, though. If a fight broke out, he'd probably just stand and watch.

"Why are you here, then, if your mommy's a hero?" Rose taunted angrily, her fists balled at her side. "Are you trying to spy on us or something?"

Lian just shook his head, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "No. I'm here to become a villain. Like the rest of you. I'm not very close with my mother. Not close at all, actually. I wouldn't be here if I was."

"Don't worry, Rose." Scythe said from his position at the front of the room, his voice quiet and smooth as oil. "Everyone here is meant to be here. I was very careful who I selected."

Rose took a breath to say something, but bit off her words before she said them. Micah curiously waited to see if she'd speak, but she never did. It seemed Max wasn't the only one under Scythe's thumb.

Scythe turned to the last figure in the room, a tall and skinny boy who seemed about as sturdy as a toothpick. "Now. You."

The figure spoke, his voice tired and rather irritable. "My name is Alastor Kilrush. I have my reasons for being here, none of which any of you need to know."

"Now, now, Alastor." Scythe chided. "We're all sharing. So share."

Micah felt the tall boy's eyes drill into him. He lifted his head, not about to back down. Even if he couldn't see, he wasn't about to lose this stare-down.

"He didn't." Alastor jerked his chin at Micah. "He didn't share. So I won't."

Scythe shook his head. "Oh, Alastor. It's as I said. Micah is special. You aren't quite special enough to earn the same special treatment as him."

As Alastor's anger grew, Micah couldn't help but wonder if Scythe actually just had it out for him. He was digging Micah's grave deeper with every 'special' he said. Micah guessed that if everything kept going in this direction, someone would try and kill him in his sleep by the end of the week.

"I won't say anything if he won't." Alastor said firmly, still glaring towards Micah. "It's not as if I need to, anyway. No one really cares all that much. Do they?"

Not a soul spoke. No one dared to. Or perhaps it was as Alastor said, and no one truly cared enough to actually put a word in.

After a beat of silence, Scythe spoke again. His voice was dangerously sharp. "You'll give an answer when I tell you to, boy."

Micah stiffened a little, a chill running down his spine. That voice... it brought back memories. Memories of a man with cold eyes and colder hands, with a quiet but dangerous voice that froze you where you stood. A man who commanded obedience and respect through fear.

Scythe wasn't Pardus. He wasn't even close. But... in that moment, Micah couldn't help but fear him a little. Any man who had that voice, that cruel, cold-hearted voice, was not one to underestimate. Micah would have to tread carefully around Scythe. Dramatic he may be, but he could be dramatic and dangerous simultaneously.

Finally, Alastor gave in, his voice a bit more subdued. He, too, seemed to have sensed the danger lurking in Scythe's voice.

"I'm no one, if you really need to know. I come from nothing. I killed my parents on accident when I was a kid, and I've been bouncing from home to home ever since. No one wanted me. I kill everything I touch. So I took Scythe's offer. This is the best way to put my idio to use." Alastor leveled a hard stare at each and every person in the room. "I'm going to be a villain, because that's the only way I can ever reach greatness. If I was born to be a monster, then I'll be the scariest monster around."

Now Micah was really nervous. If this boy could really kill everything he touched, all it would take was a bump in the night for him to get rid of Micah. And he clearly already resented him. Micah folded his arms tightly around himself. He'd need to keep an eye out for this Alastor. He was definitely going to be trouble.

"Wonderful." Scythe's voice regained its oily, drawling tone. "Now that that's out of the way, it's time for a game."

"A game?" Max questioned. "What kind of game?"

"Think of it as a... get to know each other sort of game." Scythe said smoothly. "You'll all get to know each other very well."

"What are the rules?" Lian asked quietly.

"The rules are simple." Scythe said, a smile in his voice. "One of you will be the prey, and the rest the predators. The prey must hide and evade the predators, and the predators must capture the prey. If you wish to win, you must be the first to capture the prey and bring them to me."

"How do the predators capture the prey? Are we allowed to injure them?" Came Lian's next question.

"Oh, you can do whatever you wish in this game." Scythe answered. "Injure, maim, kill. So long as the prey is brought to me, I don't care about their condition."

Kill? Thought Micah. That was ludicrous. Why make the effort to bring all these kids here if he was just going to give them free reign to kill one another? That made no sense whatsoever. Micah was starting to question Scythe's teaching methods. And his sanity.

"Can the prey fight back?" Max asked. "Can they win?"

"Oh, yes." Scythe said. "The prey can fight, and they can win the game."

"How?" The cyborg boy quickly asked. Micah wondered if he was worried that he was to be chosen for the position.

"Don't worry." Scythe soothed. "I'll tell the prey when the time comes."

"So... who is it?" Micah finally asked. "Who's going to be the prey?"

Scythe turned to face him, and Micah's heart sunk. He already knew the answer. He could practically feel Scythe's greasy grin from where he stood.

"You."