How was he supposed to find Bruce Mercer on Marley Street?
Tyler leaned into the scooter as he cut through morning traffic. Wind pressed hard against his face and tugged at the stiff collar of the academy uniform, the fabric scratching lightly at his neck.
The handlebars vibrated under his palms with every uneven patch of road. Exhaust fumes mixed with the smell of hot asphalt. His eyes scanned the sidewalks, alley mouths, and bus stops. No sign of the quiet kid from the memories.
The light ahead turned red. Tires squealed softly as the line of vehicles slowed. Tyler planted one foot on the pavement—the sole of his shoe landing with a solid, slightly gritty scrape—and killed the idle. He opened the system with a thought.
[Welcome back!]
Current Objectives
Go to Nexlark Regional Academy by 09:30 — Incomplete
Fetch Bruce Mercer (Optional) — Incomplete
Time remaining: 35 minutes
Fifteen minutes to the academy if traffic stayed light. That left him a narrow window. He could abandon the optional objective and play it safe… or keep looking.
He kept looking.
Two blocks later he saw them.
Two older teenagers had a smaller figure pinned against a brick wall in a narrow side street. The posture was familiar—shoulders hunched, head down, the same defensive curl the old Tyler's memories associated with easy targets. Bruce Mercer.
Tyler's hands tightened on the handlebars until the worn rubber bit into his palms. He pulled into a tight parking space, killed the engine, and stepped off. Gravel shifted and crunched under his shoes, small stones pressing up through the thin soles as he walked toward the alley.
One of the bullies had Bruce by the front of his shirt, fist twisted in the fabric, pressing him hard enough against the wall that the rough brick scraped the back of the boy's uniform. Tyler could almost feel the scrape from where he stood.
"Where do you think you're going?" the larger one said. His breath smelled of cheap smoke. "I won't say this twice. Hand over your allowance or you don't leave."
"I already gave you enough," Bruce said. His voice was thin but steady.
The punch landed low and solid. Tyler heard the dull impact of knuckles against the soft midsection. Bruce folded with a sharp, wet cough and dropped to one knee. His palms scraped across the rough ground as he tried to stay upright—skin dragging over grit and small stones. The second bully drew his foot back for a kick to the head; his friend caught his arm.
"Not the face."
The second kick drove into Bruce's stomach instead. The air left him in a painful wheeze. His body curled tighter around the fresh impact.
Tyler stepped into the mouth of the alley. The change from open street to shadowed brick made the air feel cooler against his skin.
"Hey."
Both bullies turned. Recognition hit the larger one's face first.
"Tyler?"
"We're not kids anymore," Tyler said. He kept his voice level. The stiff uniform collar still rubbed against the back of his neck with every small movement. "Leave him alone."
The larger bully's expression darkened. He took a step forward, rolling his shoulders. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his chest. "Just because people used to listen to you doesn't mean you get to give orders."
His friend moved up beside him, blocking Bruce from view. "Stay out of it. This isn't your business."
"It is now."
The two exchanged a quick look. Whatever reputation the old Tyler had carried still held weight. After a long second they stepped back.
"You better grow eyes in your back," the larger one muttered. Then they moved past Tyler, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed his. He caught the sour smell of their sweat and smoke, and the brief heat of another body passing too near. They disappeared down the street.
Bruce was still on the ground, one arm wrapped tightly around his middle. Tyler offered a hand.
Bruce stared at it. Then he pushed himself up without taking it. His palm left a faint smear of dust and a thin trace of blood on the ground where the skin had broken. He wouldn't meet Tyler's eyes.
"I came to help," Tyler said.
"I know who you are." Bruce's voice was quiet and flat. "I don't trust people like you."
He turned and walked away, steps uneven but determined. Each footfall looked careful, as if the bruises under his clothes pulled with every movement. He was gone before Tyler could say anything else.
The system window opened with a soft chime that seemed to vibrate faintly behind Tyler's eyes.
[Notification]
[Objective failed: Retrieve Bruce Mercer on Marley Street]
[Penalty for failure: None]
[Primary objective remaining time: 20 minutes]
Tyler checked the time. 0910, the numbers felt heavier than they should. He stood in the alley a moment longer.
The taste of exhaust and failure sat in the back of his throat. The skin of his palms still carried the imprint of the handlebar rubber. He turned back toward the scooter.
The engine caught on the first try, the vibration running up through the seat and into his legs. He swung into traffic and opened the throttle.
Wind pressed hard against his face and forced the uniform collar flat against his neck as he raced toward Nexlark Regional Academy.
Twenty minutes.
He did not look back.
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