Life Of Parker Black

Few hours Ago...

It was just another day in the tragic sitcom that Parker Black called life. Same old, same old: roll out of bed, half-asleep, brush his teeth, and maybe take a shower—if the universe was feeling generous. Breakfast? Sure, if by "breakfast" you meant sitting at the table while Aunt Helena scowled like he'd stolen her some of her youth even though she was still hot, Uncle Robert ignored him like a ghost, and Julian tried to subtly trip him on the way out.

After that delightful family bonding, it was time to grab his trusty skateboard—which he lovingly called Plan B for Running Away—and cruise to school. The rest of the family sped off in shiny luxury cars because of course they did.

Then it was time for school—Parker's personal carnival of horrors.

Everyone at Silverbrook High looked at him like he was some kind of walking dartboard, the perfect target for bullies. But here's the plot twist: they didn't actually mess with him.

Silverbrook High was basically the Hunger Games, but for reputations. Parker's role? The villain everyone hated to admit they feared. Bullies would line up, licking their lips, only to chicken out at the last second.

Why? Not because Parker was jacked—he couldn't win an arm-wrestling match against a broomstick—but because Parker wasn't your average victim.

Sure, he had the frail frame and perpetual "kick me" vibe, but he also had a reputation for being twisted. Messing with Parker was like poking a bear, except this bear had a Ph.D. in ruining lives with it's petty revenges.

When the bell rang, things didn't get any better. Classes to him felt like thwy were just an excuse for teachers to remind Parker, in front of everyone, how far he'd fallen.

Once upon a time, he'd been a top student—the kind who aced every test and crushed every curve.

Now? He was scraping the bottom of the academic barrel, and the teachers seemed to take personal offense to it.

"Mr. Black," one teacher sneered during roll call, "it's nice to see you gracing us with your presence. If only your grades were as consistent as your attendance." Cue the class laughing.

And when the day finally ended? That's when the session of boredom turns into nightmares kicked in.

With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Parker exited the classroom, intending to head straight to his job. Nature, however, called, forcing him to detour to the restroom.

"You trash! Where's the money?" Even before stepping inside, Parker could hear the sounds of someone getting roughed up.

The moment he entered, the bullies froze mid-swing. Their victim, bloodied and trembling, cowered on the floor. But the tormentors shivered as Parker's indifferent gaze landed on them.

"Oh crap, it's Black!" one whispered like he'd just spotted a ghost.

The bullies didn't even wait to finish their lunch-money heist. They scattered like roaches, leaving their victim lying on the grimy tiles.

Without a word, they scattered, leaving their prey behind.

The beaten boy managed a thankful smile, but Parker, known for his indifference, merely spared him a glance before walking away.

Parker had been a victim once, just once, and the bullies learned the hard way why no one dared mess with him anymore. He hadn't needed muscles or status to protect himself; Parker Black was cruel, calculating, and utterly unforgiving.

A notorious scheming devil when provoked. The bullies had learned to stay far out of his path, warning others to do the same.

And now? Parker Black was infamous—not among the popular kids or achievers—but among the school's most notorious troublemakers who would avoid him at first sight.

Parker's reputation for cruelty wasn't unfounded. His last name, "Black," was more than just his last name, it was his nickname. It was a badge of infamy, bestowed upon him by his parents when he was just four.

Back then, Parker had orchestrated a scheme that humiliated his father after being "wrongfully" accused of beating up the neighbor's kid. Yes, he'd done it, but when his father made him apologize to the girl's family, Parker didn't just end up comply—he retaliated.

He had apologized yes, but for the act of siding with an outside than your own child... his father paid the price.

What he did to his father's "pride" became the stuff of whispered legends, but it also marked the beginning of his abandonment. His parents, unable to handle their child's twisted nature, left him behind. Not long after, they died in a car crash.

That's how he landed a name Black, a last name his parents gave him. He can't even remember his real last name.

****

After school, unlike his cousin Julian, who spent weekends on yachts or something equally obnoxious, Parker's weekends were dedicated to surviving his other nightmare: working at The Velvet Sky, a high-end club with big money, bigger egos, and enough drama to fuel ten reality shows.

Although his aunt's family was wealthy, they refused to provide Parker with personal money but they didn't forbid him working either.

Out of necessity, he "found" this job, though it shocked the family to learn where he worked: a high-end club that catered to celebrities and high rollers.

Julian, his older cousin, burned with envy at Parker's apparent luck. The others in the family were just confused. How had someone like Parker—frail, plain-faced, and socially awkward—landed a job in such an exclusive place?

Even Julian or his Uncle with all their money couldn't enter this club, it was beyond their level as only a few could enter here.

What they didn't know was the truth.

As Parker stopped his skateboard outside the towering skyscraper that housed the club, he glared up at the top floor, where his "job" awaited.

Standing in front of the gleaming twenty floors skyscraper, Parker looked up at the top floor, where the club was located. He sighed dramatically, as if the building could feel his pain.

Inside there, Parker wasn't an employee; he was a slave. How he ended up there... was a story he didn't like to revisit. The woman who ran the club was a nightmare, and Parker knew he'd pay dearly if he even thought about quitting.

****

As the night dragged on, Parker endured endlessly exhausting work.

Since it was weekend tomorrow, his boss had "requested" him to stay. By the time his shift ended, the first light of dawn was breaking. Collapsing into his worn, lumpy mattress, Parker stared at the ceiling.

"I'm done," he whispered. His voice, usually so sharp and cutting, cracked under the weight of his frustration.

"I'm not living this kind of life anymore!" he swore. But even as the words left his mouth, Parker knew what defying his boss would mean. He'd tasted her cruelty before.

Still, he couldn't shake the resolve building inside him. No matter what she did, no matter the cost, Parker Black was ready to burn everything down if it meant regaining control of his life.

[Ding! A Celestial has heard your cry and granted you a system...]