Chapter 1: Eight-Ball Blues (Expanded)

  Three years. A thousand and ninety-five days of brutal training, sleepless nights hunched over textbooks, and the constant, gnawing weight of his father's failure. Leon had turned sixteen just weeks ago, but he felt decades older. The fire in his belly hadn't dimmed; it had only grown hotter, fueled by every dismissive gnce and whispered rumor about James Woods.

  The Department of Anomaly Mitigation Academy loomed before him, a fortress of polished chrome and reinforced gss. It was more than just a school; it was a symbol of everything his father had craved and ultimately lost. Leon's hand tightened around the strap of his worn duffel bag, the cheap fabric a stark contrast to the Academy's sterile facade. Inside, nestled amongst his meager belongings, was his father's badge - a constant reminder of what he was fighting against.

  The air crackled with anticipation as Leon crossed the threshold. Recruits buzzed like excited bees, their voices echoing in the cavernous entrance hall. They were all so young, so hopeful, so naive. Leon pushed past them, his eyes narrowed, his focus ser-sharp. He wasn't here to make friends or join clubs. He was here to conquer, to rise above, to obliterate the stain his father had left behind.

  The registration desk was manned by a woman who looked as though she'd seen it all - and was thoroughly unimpressed. Her eyes, framed by thick gsses, scanned Leon with a practiced disinterest.

  "Name?" she droned, not bothering to look up from her datapad.

  "Leon Woods." The name felt like a brand, searing his tongue.

  Her head snapped up, her gaze suddenly sharp. "Woods? James Woods' kid?"

  Leon's jaw clenched. He'd known this was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. "He was my father." The past tense was deliberate, a small act of defiance.

  A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face. Pity? Regret? Leon didn't care. He wouldn't accept her sympathy, her judgment, or anything else she had to offer.

  "Right," she said, her voice ft. "Well, welcome to the Academy, Woods. Try not to disappoint." She spat the words like a curse.

  She shoved a thick packet across the desk, her fingers barely brushing his. Leon snatched it up, his knuckles white. "I don't intend to," he muttered, turning away.

  The auditorium was a sea of expectant faces. Director Chen, a formidable woman with a gaze that could strip a soul bare, stood on the stage, her presence commanding the room.

  "Welcome, recruits," her voice boomed, amplified by the state-of-the-art sound system. "You are the future of DAM. You are the shield that protects humanity from the chaos of the unknown."

  Leon leaned against the back wall, his arms crossed, his expression a mask of disdain. Protect humanity? It was a noble sentiment, but one that rang hollow in his ears. DAM was just another institution, another bureaucracy, another way for the powerful to maintain their control.

  Chen droned on, outlining the Academy's grueling curriculum, the strict code of conduct, and the dire consequences of failure. Leon's mind drifted, repying the countless hours he'd spent honing his skills, pushing his body to its absolute limit. He was faster, stronger, and more determined than anyone in this room. He had to be.

  The dorms were sterile and impersonal, rows of identical rooms designed to strip away any sense of individuality. Leon's room was a cramped box with two beds, two desks, and a closet barely big enough to hold his meager possessions.

  He dumped his duffel bag on the floor and began unpacking, his movements efficient and precise. Every item had its pce, every action calcuted. He needed order, control. It was the only way to keep the chaos at bay.

  Just as he finished arranging his few belongings, the door swung open with a cheerful bang, and a nky kid with wide, eager eyes bounded into the room.

  "Hey! I'm Jasper Screen!" he announced, thrusting out a hand. "Awesome to meet you!"

  Leon stared, his carefully constructed composure cracking. Jasper's head wasn't just different; it was downright bizarre. It was shaped like a vintage television set, complete with rabbit ears and a glowing screen that flickered with a rapid succession of pixeted emoticons.

  "What the actual fuck?" Leon blurted out, the words escaping before he could censor them.

  Jasper's smile faltered, his screen fshing a sheepish emoji. "Oh. Yeah, the head. I get that reaction a lot." He scratched the back of his neck, his movements awkward and self-conscious. "It's... kind of a long story. A really weird one."

  Leon cringed inwardly. He hadn't meant to be so blunt, so insensitive. But the sight of this kid, this anomaly, had thrown him off bance.

  "Sorry," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I didn't mean to be a dick."

  "No worries! It's a great conversation starter, right?" Jasper forced a ugh, but the sound was strained and hollow. "So, uh, you're Leon?"

  Leon nodded curtly, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah. Leon Woods."

  "Cool! We're roommates! This is gonna be so awesome!" Jasper bounced on the balls of his feet, his screen now dispying a heart-eyes emoji that pulsed with manic energy.

  Leon wasn't convinced. He hadn't come to the Academy to make friends, especially not with a walking, talking television set. He had a purpose, a mission, a score to settle. And he wasn't going to let anyone, or anything, distract him.

  "Can you just... not?" Leon snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. "I'm trying to focus."

  Jasper's screen went bnk, the sudden silence amplifying the tension in the room. "I just wanted to help," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Is it so wrong to want to be a good teammate?"

  Leon's jaw tightened. Teamwork. He loathed the word. It was a weakness, a liability. He worked alone, trusted no one. It was the only way to survive.

  He gred at Jasper, his eyes cold and hard. "Yes," he said ftly. "It is."