4 Foul Scent

"Fuck me..." John said, lost in his own thoughts. He'd have to hide a body when he got home, plus watch out for the neighborhood's new serial killer. Things didn't look good, and they could get even worse.

The only silver lining of his predicament was that blood didn't disgust him anymore. And for someone who couldn't lay a glance on blood without fainting, that was a huge upgrade - which, as far as he knew, was yet another one of the changes happening to his body and mentality. Should he be happy or afraid - he had no idea. Still, all things considered, he'd really do better and start paying more attention to his surroundings.

"Holy shit-" A mutter traveled through the aghast crowd, just loud enough to wake John from his musings. And, for the first time since he'd started studying at Da Vinci Institute, people looked at him without contempt. No hateful glares or pitting stares - there was nothing of the sort in their eyes.

Surprise - bewilderment - disbelief. There was a wide array of emotions running through the crowd, so much so that it almost smelt like a garden now with his new senses.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, honestly confused about their behavior. The hallway was parted like the Red sea before Maomé, as if they'd just witnessed a miracle...

Two students lay before his feet, out cold. When did they get there? John couldn't help but ask as he had no recollection of it. His expression was that of a deer caught in the red lights. Between the foreign and weird pride that seemed to grow at his core, there was also the obvious confusion as well. He was just as confused as everyone, if not more.

"What is going on in here, why is no one going to their classes-" The school director exploded out of his office, ready to beat the shit out of his students. Only, he did no such thing.

"Ehh-" John perfectly resembled a deer caught in the cross-lights.

"Please take those students to the nursery. You, in my office - now." He turned his back to the crowd, not sparing a glance at John.

Anyhow, he could still take the clue. Following Mr. Werner, he felt a strange emotion welling up inside as the students stared at his back. It felt natural yet alien.

When he finally entered the school director's office though, only one thought crossed his mind.

'Just when things couldn't get any better - fuck me.' At least he was spared from Cadwell's classes, and it wasn't the first time he went to Werner's office. After all, being the odd one in the playground had its perks. Which was to say, to be the perfect target for harassment and being pushed around. So, most of the time he had a chat with Werner was in order to file his part of the story.

As he sat on a leather chair, he was met by some good 20 seconds of silence. If the director was trying to intimidate him though, it certainly wasn't working on someone who just witnessed a murder a day ago.

"Don't you have anything to say?" The man asked him, a hidden promise of death within his words. Whatever may John's response be, he should measure his words carefully. But, in the end, John couldn't help but helplessly shrug - the whole situation simply had him speechless. The sheer absurdity of his last day was tiring, and the will to formulate a good enough defense wasn't there.

"I had no part in it."

Silence. Absolute silence.

It was to be expected. It wasn't every day that two students fell unconscious to the floor for no obvious reason.

"Look, I don't even know what to say-"

"Then don't say it, John. So far, the best you will get from me is detention." Werner told John with a dark expression.

'He... isn't mad?' John had his nose tickling yet again at the foreign smells that oozed from others, only confusing him further, 'Actually, he is proud! The hell, old man?'

"While I understand that self-defense is important, I can't condone violence in college grounds." He said while winking and giving thumbs up, avoiding the camera's angle that was set at the back of his room.

The length John's eyebrows could go should have broken the world record 3 times already, 'I- I just can't. This is too much for a single person to handle.'

"So, you will stay in detention and help Anastasia out this afternoon," Werner concluded, gesturing towards the door - a clear sign to get out.

"Wait, what? I can't stay this afternoon." He had a body to hide, for god's sake!

"And? You are responsible for two students being unconscious. How can I overlook that?" He gestured towards the door yet again, this time a little more forcefully.

"But I didn't-" He couldn't even finish his line of thought.

"No buts, how am I to explain this to their-", rich, "parents? Now go, before I change my decision to something worse."

'No buts my ass! I've got a fucking dead body back at home. I don't know how many times I've already said this, but- FUCK ME!'

In the end, he could only nod his head solemnly at that. Escaping detention it would be.

He then closed the door, ignoring the stares he got when going back to class. The rest of the day went by as normal as it could be, thankfully. Cadwell even chose to keep his mouth shut for the duration of his class - his past bruises would take a while to heal.

So now, all he'd have to do was either sneak out or ask Anastasia for a favor. But knowing her, she'd probably let him go out early. She was, after all, his personal angel at school. It didn't matter how much he got beaten or how many times he fainted, she'd always be there to patch him up - a delicate yet firm hand, where he could always support himself on.

In a quick stride, he got to the nursery, where Anastasia had the two alumni soundly resting.

Seeing her though - contrary to what he'd expected - didn't put his mind at ease. Not at all.

She had a lingering foul smell. It was like a mist, veiled, but still there - the scent of hidden schemes, something told him.

"Took you a while to get here." She sighed, "Seriously, you are a magnet for trouble." She told him with her trademark sweet smile.

He gulped, but not because of the odd scent. This time, it was his body acting on its own accord.

Rhythmically, John's blood throbbed; it throbbed like thick hot gasoline, just about to explode. She had that effect on him, his new instincts were certain. No one in school incited that urge, not like Anastasia or the deliveryman had, at least. But whatever answers he wanted for that ever-increasing riddle, they were right in front of his eyes. Plenty for the taking.