The day wound down, the academy bell chiming its release. Xavier didn’t linger—he and Oliver slipped out, ignoring the gawks and whispers, and headed for the only place Xavier actually wanted to be that night.
The Midnight Club.
Its neon glow wrapped around them as they walked through the entrance, bass-heavy music vibrating under their feet. The atmosphere was thick with smoke, laughter, and the kind of chatter that always circled around money, power, and the dangerous promises of both.
Xavier didn’t flinch at any of it—he cut straight toward the private hall, Oliver tagging along with a grin. They pushed into the familiar room Angel liked to claim as her own, its walls lined with sleek holo-screens and bottles that cost more than so people’s cars.
Oliver collapsed on the couch as if it were his throne, grabbing a nu holo and flicking through it. "Let’s get sothing greasy. I’m starving, man. The whole day felt twice as long with everyone staring at you. I couldn’t even eat properly during the break."
Xavier smirked, sliding into the seat opposite. "Order whatever. Angel isn’t footing the bill this ti."
Oliver barked a laugh and waved at the service bot, rattling off so order that mixed fried, spicy, and "extra at" all in one. Xavier leaned back, unfazed, gaze drifting toward the center console on the table where his holo-device sat, screen faintly glowing.
He tapped it once, watching the interface spring up. His reflection stared back at him, cool and sharp, a face already trending across every platform. His thumb hovered over the "Live Stream" option.
Oliver noticed. "You’re actually gonna do it? Right now?"
Xavier smirked, lips curling with that cocky edge. "Why not? The city’s hungry for a show. And who am I to starve my fans?"
The holo-console flickered, and the red light blinked alive.
"Live."
In a heartbeat, the numbers shot up—hundreds of thousands... then millions. The stream filled with faces, nas, avatars scrolling faster than the eye could track. The chat exploded:
[XAVIER WTF YOU OK??]
[omg he’s alive alive alive!!!]
[KING VIER IN THE FLESH]
[Show us proof ur safe!!]
[Don’t scare us like last ti]
Xavier leaned forward into the feed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The room’s dim lights caught the sharp line of his jaw, making him look both tired and untouchable.
"Relax," he said, voice steady, smooth. "I’m here. I’m fine. Nobody needs to panic."
The comnts didn’t slow—they raged harder, begging, praising, spamming emotes, asking what really happened at the penitentiary, if Alexander’s death was true, if Xavier was safe now.
He let them run wild for a few seconds before cutting through with a tone drop that froze the air.
"I want to confess about sothing."
The room stilled—even Oliver, chewing on a fried skewer, stopped mid-bite. The live chat combusted:
[CONFESS?????]
[Wtf is he saying rn??]
[no no no don’t say it bro, they’re watching]
[what the hell happened fr]
[Is he serious rn??]
[WHAT CONFESSION??]
So comnts were all caps, others spamming emojis like flas and skulls. The tension rippled, his viewers leaning in from every corner of the city, desperate to catch every word.
Xavier tilted his head slightly, a smirk ghosting his lips, dragging the silence just enough to coil the suspense tighter.
Xavier leaned closer to the screen, voice calm but heavy with drama.
"You all must’ve seen it already," he said, his eyes cutting sharp through the lens. "The viral clip. Maximilian Hart shooting Leonardo Kane."
The chat detonated instantly:
[YESSSSS WTF WAS THAT ]
[bro we been replaying that clip for HOURS]
[shit looked staged ngl]
[tell us u got the full story man!!!]
[NO WAY MAX REALLY DID THAT?? I THOUGHT IT WAS FAKE!]
Xavier let their noise swell before he dropped the bomb.
"That clip..." he said slowly, lips curling. "...ca from . I was the one who recorded it."
The comnt feed spasd—half disbelief, half hysteria:
[WAITTT WHATTTT]
[HOLY SHIT NO WAY]
[KING XAVI???!]
[Bro risking his life rn]
[so ur saying U were there??]
He straightened his shoulders, putting on the perfect mask of vulnerability, tone dipped in rawness like an actor delivering a soliloquy.
"That day," he began, "I had just gotten out of prison. I went back to the academy for the first ti in a week... and when I was heading ho, a car pulled up." His words slowed, dramatic. "It was Maximilian and Leonardo. They told to get in... or they’d kill ."
The chat spamd frantic emojis, disbelief stacking on disbelief.
"So I got in. What else could I do? I was scared." He gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "They drove straight to Maximilian’s house. And that’s when they started. The beatings. The threats. The humiliation. Then... they suggested a ga."
His pause was deliberate—his audience leaned in.
"A shooting ga. Taking turns. Pointing a loaded gun at each other. Like it was fun. Like it was a sport. They wanted to use as their entertainnt, their target." He dragged his hand down his face, voice trembling just enough to sound genuine.
"Both of them wanted dead. And when Maximilian’s turn ca..." Xavier exhaled slow, as if reliving it. "Things went wrong. Leonardo ended up dead."
The comnt feed spiraled out of control:
[WTF THIS IS INSANE]
[he’s literally traumatized and still talking abt it]
[max should ROT in hell bro]
[poor leo tho... fuck]
[they rlly did that to u?? monsters]
Xavier’s eyes hardened, the mask flickering into steel.
"And after that," he said, "Maximilian turned the gun on . Threatened to kill . The only reason I’m alive right now is because I had that clip. Insurance." He smirked faintly, the charm laced with nace. "That’s why I kept my mouth shut. Because how do you go to the cops when Maximilian’s father, Dominic Hart, was Chief? Then promoted to Commissioner? Where could I run? Who would listen to ?"
The silence in his delivery shattered into an avalanche of comnts:
[BROOO U DIDN’T DESERVE THIS]
[u survived literal HELL]
[fuck the Harts. ALL of them.]
[u rlly our KING for exposing this shit]
ssages of anger at Maximilian, sympathy for Xavier, and vows of support flooded the stream, an unstoppable tide. The world was eating from Xavier’s palm—and he knew it.
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