The halls of Sega High were bustling as students rushed to class, but for Vector the Crocodile, there was no need to rush. At twenty years old, he had been in high school longer than some of the freshmen had been alive.

"Yo, move it or lose it, rookies!"

Vector called, strolling down the hall like he owned the place. A few younger students jumped out of the way, but the older ones just rolled their eyes. Everyone at Sega High knew Vector—he wasn’t a bad guy, just a permanent one.

As he reached his locker (which was covered in stickers from past school years), Espio was already there, arms crossed, giving him his usual unimpressed stare.