After that day, John and Liam kept crossing paths, but neither brought up John’s “I’m having your mom too” to each other again. Most days, John was busy pouring his “fuck up their head, make them question their own existence” bullshit into Liam’s skull, breaking down how to twist people’s minds, get under their skin. There were no real pns id out yet, nothing step-by-step. That's supposed to be Liam’s job. John was just to provide theories and potential directions, and Liam to run the show.

  John also got this stupid idea from god-knows-where that he kept yapping about every day: “I ain’t your friend, Liam. I’m your teacher. But more importantly I'm your new bully now. Helping you out cause it’s just fucking fun. That’s it.”

  Meanwhile, Fucker A—Philip—blew up online. “PhiPhi’s Pissed-on Adventure”1I'm sorry if this was offensive to JoJo fans. I am a JoJo fan myself, and I was just trying to be funny here.went viral, lighting up the school. Kids buzzed—who the hell did this?—but only a few who knew John’s voice clocked it as one of his usual sick pranks. Anthony caught the clip too for sure, and then he just quietly thanked his own ass for he’d dodged John tely. Revenge still gnawed at him, though. He would certainly hit back one day, just not now.

  The whole thing pinged Dean Selena’s radar too. She wasn’t that shocked to be honest. As the Dean and a mother, she loathed bullies. Philip’s dirt was old news to her. Someone screwing him over made sense. Saved her work to deal with his asshole parents if she’s to expel him ter. What gave her a surprise though, was the voice in the clip. It sounded like John. As Anthony’s mom, she knew him as her son’s punching bag. She’d tried reining Anthony in, but it's useless. He ignored her, stuck to his prick dad’s pybook instead. Now she’s more worried as his mother about Anthony picking on John—either he’d end up like Philip, or even worse. Sighing, she gave him a call.

  “What?” Anthony snapped the second he picked up, pure venom, like she’d murdered his dog.

  Selena swallowed the sting. “Anthony, you don’t need to bite my head off. Just listen, stay away from that John kid, alright?”

  “Shut up, I ain’t scared of him!” he barked, smming the call dead.

  Selena blinked, stunned with Anthony’s reaction. Educator and mom, she knew the script too well: when someone yells they’re not afraid, they’re terrified. Anthony was a textbook case, fear dripping from his tantrum. Curiosity sparked. Why’s my kid scared of this John? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Something’s off. She needed to talk to this John herself.

  John, oblivious to her radar, was plotting how to mess with Liam today, as his new bully. Errands, maybe? Bullies love that shit, right? He patted his pockets, smokes running low. Perfect opportunity for some errands.

  “Hey, Liam! Move your ass. Go buy me a pack of smokes, now!”

  Liam shrugged, used to basic grunt work. This wasn’t even bullying to him anymore. John kept crowing he was his “new bully,” but never pulled any real bully moves—kinda hirious to be honest. Buying smokes for a guy who’s helping him? No big deal at all.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to go.

  But John stopped him. “Hey, wait, dumbass! You gonna buy it with no cash? It’s just an errand. I'm not telling you to pull a fucking heist!” He fished out a crumpled twenty, waving it at Liam.

  Huh? What? Liam froze, brain shorting. John’s paying? And knowing him, he’d definitely offer smokes to Liam ter just because he loved smoking with other people, “feel social” as he said. So he's basically paying for my smokes as well?

  Britts, watching this clown show, couldn’t take it anymore. She smacked the back of John’s head with a backhand. “John, quit fucking around! You’re a disgrace to bullies. Who pays for themselves to send the kid they’re ‘bullying’ on a smoke run?”

  John just grinned, brushing it off. “Big deal? I do whatever the fuck I want.”

  By the way, John still didn't know why Britts was being pissed at him. She’d told him off, “Not telling you yet. Fix Liam’s shit first, then we’ll talk about it.” Liam, though, had asked her once about John’s “proposal”—what the hell did he mean by “he's having my mom”?

  Britts rolled her eyes, “Doesn’t surprise me at all. He’s just a horny dog. And he got this weird thing for Mommies. Don't ask me how I found out.” Liam didn’t know what to say to that. He just told himself, whatever, John’s better than those assholes. At least with him, I’m not getting smashed.

  John goofed off plenty, but he didn’t sck on the guidance he’d promised Liam. He just kept yapping, though Liam mostly nodded along, leaving John wondering if any of it stuck.

  Feeling that this scheme of theirs was clearly going nowhere if he's being the only input here, he then encouraged Liam to use that book-smart brain of his—get creative, come up with some punishment for those pricks. Show me what you learned.

  Liam then chewed on it hard—a full day and night—then showed up the next morning, all smirking while being secretive, hauling out a stack of sketches. He spread them for John to see. Two, three pages in, John’s jaw dropped—you got to be fucking me, Liam.

  “These… you came up with all this yourself?” A bead of sweat trickled down John’s temple. He’d just meant for Liam to lean into his strengths, simple stuff, not unleash this dungeon master within him. Long story short, John figured Liam wasn’t into torturing people, but these drawings? They screamed a knack for physical torment way beyond John’s own game. The sketches dragged up memories of a dead buddy of John, his Imperial Inquisitor back in the magical world. John's always stunned by his creepy-ass tools and that line he’d always smirk, “This guy needs healing first.”

  “So, don't make them beg to live, make them beg to die, huh?” John threw his old friend’s words at Liam, probing his “design philosophy.”

  Liam lit up, fucking buzzed. “What? Nah, nothing that deep! I just dug through history books all day, read up on old-school tortures, then mashed it with some ideas of my own. Didn’t sleep all night, and kept cranking ‘em out. It was so fun!” His voice crackled with hype, confidence oozing.

  John’s back was still sweating, half-regretting that mom crack he’d made to Liam. “I… couldn’t do something like that. How’d you do it?”

  Liam pulled a pack of smokes from his own pocket, tossed John one, and took a drag like a pro. “Easy. First you get a license of AutoCAD. No need to pay for it. Just use your academy account to sign up…”

  John cut him off before he continued. “As much as I love AutoCAD just like you, I'm asking about your ideas, man.”

  That flipped Liam’s switch. He went off like John was his soulmate. “Oh, it’s simple! First, you avoid killing ‘em. Big bleeds like slicing an artery? Off the table, right? Then, pain’s got a limit—push too hard, they go numb. Gotta keep it in the sweet spot. But it’s not just pain, mix in the senses: itch, tingle, even pleasure can fuck ‘em up. Like that device with honey to attract ants—”

  “Okay, okay, Liam. Stop! Got it now. I’m impressed, more than impressed!” John’s ears rang with his old buddy’s “this guy needs healing first,” stuck on loop. He pivoted, “Look, I got nothing left to teach you on punishments anymore okay? You probably can start teaching me now. I don't usually work your way, but yours gonna work pretty well. Let’s figure out how to lure ‘em in instead.”

  Kidnapping those bastards without anyone notice? Piece of cake for John now. One call to Vivian, and it's all done deal. But he’d told Liam he’d only guide, and Liam had to learn to run the show himself.

  “Fucker A’s tricky right now. He's been holed up at home since I, uh, ‘shot some baskets’ on him. So he’s off the table for now. The other two, though? Here’s how we do it.” Liam leaned in, whispering his pn in John’s ear. John’s grin grew wider with every word.

  Damn, what a great student! He thought, pride buzzing hard. And Liam was that shy kid no more, confidence and resolve growing in him, fast and strong.

  That day, Fucker B and C were loafing around the academy like usual, aimless, restless. Ever since their big dog Fucker A stopped showing up, they’d been lost, itching to mess with someone but too chickenshit to pick a target without a leader. Cssic ckey syndrome: all the urge to be pricks, none of the spine to act solo. They tossed around names—who’s an easy mark?—but everyone felt off-limits now. Especially Liam, he was John’s boy these days, and John? The guy behind Fucker A’s viral fmeout. No way they wanted that smoke. Hell, they even snickered about Fucker A behind his back—dumbass flipped his boat in the gutter.

  Then they spotted John strolling their way, ciggy dangling, waving them over with a zy grin. Instinct screamed run, but his chill vibe held them—maybe it’s not trouble? Plus, bolt now, and he’d still track us down eventually. Might as well hear him out.

  “Hey, you two, plotting some fuck-up again?” John said, all buddy-buddy, like he hadn’t smashed Fucker A right in front of them st time, like he was their damn pack leader.

  Fucker B twitched, wary as hell. “Ain’t plotting shit. Leave us alone.”

  John expected the guard, didn’t flinch. He’d prepped for this, and the fun fact was, most of the bullshit he was about to spew came straight from Liam’s brain.

  “Hey, rex, fels,” he said, grinning wide. “Been meaning to ask you something, you know, about Liam’s mom. You get me?” He fshed a sleazy smirk, winking hard.

  Fucker B and C’s defenses dropped fast. That line clicked. It gave them a neat little story for why John’s glued to Liam recently, because John’s after the mom too. Still, they probed. “Why do you care?” C asked, squinting.

  John swung, a quick sp to Fucker C’s ear, made it all ringing.

  “What kind of a dumbass question is that? What do I care? I wanna know if the chick’s worth my fucking time!”

  He then pointed at Fucker C’s face, “one more dumb question, one more sp, till you wake the fuck up from whatever the fuck you are doing right now.”

  They blinked, dazed, and John piled on. “Fucking morons, you think I enjoy pying besties with that pussy Liam every day? Britts clued me in on this shit. It's a fucking goldmine, and you two pricks got first dibs, plus that coward A. How’s that even fair?”

  He tossed out crumbs—Britts, Fucker A, the mom—letting them connect the dots. Maybe he overestimated their IQ, though. Once he cranked up the alpha-male act, they melted right into their comfort zone, tension gone, faces sck.

  “Damn well worth it—hell yeah, so fucking good,” Fucker C nodded fast, that sp flipping his pdog switch.

  Fucker B jumped in, “I got video, John, wanna a peek?” Beaming like a kid showing off a toy.

  John’s gut twisted—fucking lowlife—but he hid it, waving them off with a leering grin. “Nah, you don’t get it. See it now, spoils all the fun, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, John really knows about fun with women! No wonder he bagged Britts!” B and C bobbed their heads, ughing.

  John’s patience was fraying. He needed to lock this trap quick before he puked. “You two sound pretty smart, I like it,” he said, chuckling. “What’d Fucker A ever give you? Following him was a waste of your talents. Heard he made you pay for Liam’s mom? Greedy bastard.”

  That jab—“Fucker A made you pay”—dangled the bait: with John, it’d be free. An offer they can’t refuse, or more precisely, a trap they can’t diffuse.

  Noticed their eyes flicker, hooked. It's time for John to nail their coffin shut. “You wanna hit that again, py nice. I don’t mind setting it up. Hell, I’d love it. We gangbang her. We make Liam do it too.”

  Fucker B and C’s grins split wide, and couldn’t nod fast enough. “For sure, John the man! We’re with you now!”

  John smirked. “Smart move. Now go grab me a carton of Sobranie Bck Russian, the cigarette. Show me you mean it.” Didn’t wait for a reply. He just waved them off. “I’ll let you know when. I’ll trick Liam into getting his mom home, then we roll, after I see my smokes.” He strutted off.

  They’d bite, guaranteed. John and Liam just had to tighten the net and wait, while smoking that Sobranie Bck Russian together, as John said to Liam, “best cigarettes ever made.”

  [You’d better stop doing this!]

  Out of nowhere, his long-silent system piped up, voice crackling in his head.

  “Why? Stop what? I’m just helping a kid in trouble.” John’s brow furrowed. The system picking now to butt in? He's clueless.

  [I’m not fucking talking about helping him, you dipshit! I mean stop trying to put ideas in people’s heads, got it?]

  John found system’s words stupidly amusing. “Hello, do you even know me? That’s basically my job, man.” John snorted—the system's circuits must’ve fried, spouting gibberish.

  [No! I mean this ‘awaken others’ bullshit! You think they yanked you out of that magical world st time just to give you a fucking reward? Wake the fuck up. You’re just a fucking pawn, asshole! If you weren’t the crowd’s favorite, you’d be dead already!] The system paused, like it was choking down rage.

  [Don’t paint yourself as a threat. High Goddess doesn’t like that shit.]

  John half-guessed what it meant—vague memories flickering—but he wasn’t about to hash it out. He shrugged, “Shut it, system. Power down. I’m not hearing this crap now.”

  [As an emperor in that world, you fucking went for—]

  “Shut up!” John’s voice thundered, deep and jagged, a savage, crushing dominance cwed the air, freezing the system dead in terror, too rattled to even grasp why it cowered.

  [Fine, whatever. Actually, there’s something—]

  It stalled, then dropped a ft [Never mind] and went quiet.

  “Yep, that's the spirit. I like your random yapping. It's fun to hear, but get this straight: I’m the fucking boss here. You’re just my sidekick. So shut up when I tell you to.”

  He paused, lit up a smoke. “Most importantly? I do whatever the fuck I want.”