They stepped into the small meeting room as if entering a test. The space was bare and sharp. Concrete walls, a single high window that let in a thin stripe of cold light, and a concrete floor that smelled faintly of sawdust and old paint.

In the center of the room four desks were arranged to face each other like a square. Each desk had a nameplate. One said "West High Crew." One said "East High Crew." One said "North High Crew." The fourth nameplate sat empty on its desk like a silent question.

Ryan felt a tight little knot in his stomach when the door closed behind them. It was the kind of knot that comes from knowing this moment matters. He was nervous, yes, but not helpless. He had trained in the night, he had failed and tried again, and he carried a small steady confidence now.

He walked forward and sat behind the desk marked "West High Crew." The letters looked plain and sharp, the metal plate catching the thin light. To a stranger it was only a name. To him it felt like a label that had weight.

Arthur stood to Ryan's right. He was the unshakable presence they all counted on. He never made a show of strength, but he had that quiet steadiness of someone who knows how to move without wasting energy.

Daniel stood on Ryan's left, smiling in the easy way he always did. It was a smile that wanted to push away tension. Behind them, Maya and Kai took positions as support. Maya's stance was straight and calculating; Kai's face was unreadable and watchful. They formed a small line of the crew, a wall behind the desk.

Across from Ryan, two meters away, sat the East High crew. Their leader had long hair that fell over part of his forehead and made him look calm and a little careless. He was shorter than some of the others, around five foot nine, but his body looked athletic.

He had a way of sitting that said he was ready to move fast when he needed to. Beside him stood a tall, buff guy about six feet high—handsome in a sharp way, broad shoulders and the kind of straight posture that came from training.

Behind them was a heavier man in glasses, the kind you could tell by looking that he made plans and thought in angles. Beside him, half-hidden under a hoodie and mask, stood another crew member. The hoodie and mask made him unreadable; only his eyes showed, dark and quiet.

To the right of the East High group, across the square, was North High. Their leader was tall—about six foot two—and had the kind of body that indicated judo or wrestling. He looked average in the face but strong in his frame.

He had brought only two men with him: one athletic and about five foot eleven, the other around six foot and built like someone who used to wrestle. They looked like fighters who trained with purpose and repeated drills until things became sharp.

The missing desk was for South High. Its nameplate sat there waiting, and the empty chair beside it whispered a thousand questions. All of that shaped the mood in the room before anyone said a word.

When Ryan sat, both crew leaders turned toward him at the same time. Their eyes measured him. He felt those looks—testing, sizing up, searching for weakness. The East High leader leaned forward with a grin that was not friendly. He said, "So you're Ryan West, huh?"

Ryan felt the heat of attention but did not let his voice shake. He answered, "Yeah."

The leader's grin widened as he looked him over, slow and mocking. "You're kinda short for someone who beat Warren. How did you even defeat him?"

The North High leader cut in with a loud voice and a scoff, as if he expected everyone to already know the answer. "Can't you see Arthur Kane on his side, Ryo? He's the one who won."

The East leader — Ryo — snapped his head toward the North leader. "I wasn't talking to you, Luka. Shut up, you fucker." His words were sharp and meant to slice back.

Luka—North High—gave a small, tired sigh. "Hyper as usual," he said like a man used to dealing with loud mouths.

The room tightened. The mocking was not subtle. It was a test; these were men who used words as a way to push buttons. Ryan could feel his pulse, a quiet drum behind his ribs. The mocking hit a place that always menaced him:

being underestimated. It was an old wound. He had grown used to being overlooked because he wasn't the loudest or the biggest. Tonight he wanted to be something else.

He ran his hand through his hair slowly, a motion meant to show casual control. When he spoke, his voice was even. "Just talk the business already."

Kai watched him from the corner of his eyes and thought, This guy— is he putting on the leader act? He held back and studied Ryan's face.

Maya looked at Ryan too. A tiny smirk appeared on her lips and she thought, So he finally took the role. The smirk didn't mean she doubted him; it meant something like relief and amusement at seeing him start to carry weight.

Luka's smirk turned mean. "You're so eager?" he said, the words almost a blade.

Ryan paused for a second, then answered in a plain tone, "I don't want to be here, you know. I got more work to do."

Arthur's mouth curved in a small smile at that. It was rare to see Arthur smirk and the gesture carried a soft approval. Daniel, bright and loud, chimed in with theatrical pride: "Yeahhhh, our leader is busy, you know." His voice tried to turn the moment into a joke and push away the edge.

Ryo, still leaning, tapped the desk with his fingers and added, "Should we wait for South High then?"

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