It was the talk of the school. A giant graphic image of a you know what spray painted on the Academy's beloved statue of its' founder.

As student council president you knew exactly who it was. He never listened.

You footsteps thundered through the halls as you opened the door to an old supply closet. Messy hair, no shoes on, and no uniform.

Hunter looked up for a moment from his game.

"What do you want this time?"