I stare down at the chocolate stain from the mousse. The cafeteria has quieted to a whisper everyone turning to look at the scene. There is a stain on my shirt. Whoever this is has some nerve. I look up, a porcelain doll standing before me.

Megan.

Her face was as pale as powdered snow. She just stood there. Her eyes wide and lips colourless. She was on the verge of tears. What spineless scum. Lowest rank in my registration. She shouldn't even be here. It's people like her that irritates me. They're weak and worthless. They feed on the strength of others and ultimately drags them down with them. They shouldn't even be allowed in here. This place isn't a day care or some support group for outcasts. This is Westfield academy a place for people who sacrifice their very being to become more. More than just an outcast. More than just a flesh of anger and hatred. Villain makes it sound comical but yes the academy is equipping us with the power to do what needs to be done. Whether that be world domination or a life of crime. I've never talked to her but from what I can tell she doesn't take anything seriously. It's irritating. She fails at everything she attempts in life and yet she smiles everyday. She's optimistic, naive and cowardice. A waste of space. Regarded as a bit of an oddity. She's ultimately spitting in the face of everyone here. She doesn't know true pain.

Anyone else can do I better job than her. A pathetic rank of sixty- two. The third lowest rank in the entire academy. I don't even know how she made it this far. Anyone under rank sixty- five is kicked from the academy and every time she misses the cut off. The only reason why she isn't the lowest rank is because she doesn't completely suck at poisons and strategy. Although I'm sure her friend Joe has something to do with it. Joe. For someone so bright she sure is stupid to be accompanying a person like Megan. Can't she see Megan is just feeding off her. Robbing her of her strength. Megan deserves to be beaten down right in front of everyone, be made a lesson of.

But I don't. I don't strike her or even get visibly angry. It doesn't matter how much I despise her, it was an accident. She's nothing to me and never will be more than the dirt on which I tread but I'm not about to waste my time on someone who just wasn't looking where they were going. It's not mercy. I just don't feel like playing with flies. "Not even worth it." I drop the empty container in her hand and push past her. Everyone disperses making a path for me to walk. They all avoid eye contact, all trying to whisper so I couldn't hear. I grab a seat at the table trying to ignore the brown stain that coloured my shirt.

"Did you see her face?" Travis's voice is loud over all the others. They all mutter about the incident many crowded at the end of the table watching some live video footage their excitement evident.
"Man, she was so pale, I think she was about to cry." Travis comments to no one in particular. Travis Gray, rank twenty. He's alright at everything. Sport, intelligence, strength but if there's one thing Travis excels at it's shooting. Near perfect shot every time. Sniper rifles, hand guns, crossbows even slingshots he's exceptionally good. He makes a good team mate in group challenges involving rifles. That's the basis of our 'friendship'. He contributed, slightly, in my current rank but that's all he's good for. Childish, impatient and real narcissistic.
"Dude, why you let her go?" Travis questions rolling an apple my way. "It would have really been one hell of a performance." He stares off into the distance laughing as he recreates the scene in his head.
"Not everything is for your enjoyment." Keira interrupts resting her elbows on the table.
"Tell that to your mother." Travis smirks giving Keira a wink. Keira doesn't hesitate, she's up from her chair in seconds. With all her rage as strength she swings her fist her knuckles colliding with Travis's jaw. His face is jerked violently to the left. Everyone turns to look but gets disinterested when they see Keira.

It's not uncommon to see her fighting through her problems or punching Travis for that matter. From day one they have been at each other necks. Travis making an inappropriate comment and Keira responding with fists. Travis rubs at his jaw shutting his eyes to rid himself of the stars he must be seeing.
"Say that again and I'll twist your balls off." Keira slumps back into her seat fire still dancing around behind her eyes. I take a bite of the apple it's sweet sour taste filling my mouth.
"Woah you on your period of something." Travis as stupid as he is opens his mouth. Keira's glare can cut through glass. I quickly grab her forearm stopping her from attempting to remove Travis's genitals. She tries to jerk away from my grip but she struggles. She might be rank nineteen but one thing she lacks in is strength.

She happens to calm down but the pure hatred towards Travis doesn't.
"Do you ever know when to shut up?" My question is met with a puzzled expression as expected.
"Trails are up, you ready Mr Dreads?" A pink mark has formed where Keira has punched him but he doesn't seem concerned at all. Trails. It's the one thing I look forward to in this hell. The weak are exposed for what they truly are and the strong celebrated. We see the weak falter and fall and they are punished as it should be. Rarely has someone of a lower rank beaten someone of a higher one. It's easy marks and that just means one more step closer to the Elites.
"Are you? Guns aren't part of the weapons pool." Every Trail Travis is nearly beaten by someone of a significantly lower rank but somehow he manages to surpass them.
"Dude, look at me." He outstretches his arms exposing his chest. "How can I lose."
"The only way you'll win is if you're paired with Megan." Keira snarls tightening her cinnamon ponytail.
"A brick can win against Megan." Travis mocks. "Although last year she ran around the arena and after three entire minutes she trips and stabs her opponent in the shoulder."
"And she won?" Her mouth is twisted and eyebrows raised.
"Yep and moved up a whole rank because of it."
"It's pathetic." I sputter leaning back in my seat.
"I can't believe she's even related to the Jester." Travis sighs rubbing his eyes.

I almost didn't hear what he said. Megan related to the Jester. "What!"
"Didn't you know?"
"She's related to the Jester." I almost shout the words. That can't be true.
"Yeah, the Jester is her farther." Travis informs with all seriousness. It makes no sense. The Jester is a criminal genius. Famous for physiological torture and successful bank robberies. His vile and crafty. Dangerous to say the least. Criminals alike fear him and the rest follow his lead. Known for his crude sense of humour and interest in the human body. No mercy for his victims. No affection for his followers. I'm surprised he even has a child. Even more staggered that it's someone like Megan. "Wait so that means-"
"Yeah, her uncle is the Joker." Keira finishes but she says it in disbelief. "That's how she got in."
"Never took the entrance test." Travis adds leaning in as Joe exits the cafeteria. It explains her optimistic and cheerful personality. The academy would never voluntarily let a person like her in but something doesn't add up. How can the child of a ruthless criminal and the niece of a psychotic mastermind turn out to be so fragile and good?

She's untainted and pure.

So lively and innocent.

So normal.

I guess that's a reason why I despise her. Everyone here has a tragic story. Whether we're outcasts, neglected, rejected or oppressed. All of us has a reason to be here. Exception being Megan. I can see it in her eyes.

No darkness lies behind her smiles.

No pain behind her gently nature.

It infuriates me. Why is she even here? She subjects herself to this torture of a place for what? To follow in her fathers footsteps. A child born into darkness, yet she's a beam of light. Something doesn't to add up. Did she perhaps live with her mother? No then how did her father get her into the academy if he wasn't there for her upbringing? No doubt she was raised with her father present.
"Best not to dwell on it." Keira suggests nudging my arm. "It shouldn't matter about how she got here. Let's just concentrate on the upcoming Trial."
"Talking about the Trail, we should probably get going, we don't want to keep Mr Marshmallow waiting." Travis is up from his seat informing the rest of the table of our absense. We exit the cafeteria a gush of wind ruffling our hair. "You guys go ahead, I've got to change my shirt." I don't wait for a reply. I hurry down the hall to the boy's dormitory.

The whole situation was bugging me. You hear about kids being different maybe even better than their parents, personality wise but I struggle to believe this is the case with Megan. From a ruthless parent to a caring father. It's far too big of a personality jump. Even if the Jester does deeply care about Megan there must be some darkness in her childhood. Father coming home with blood drenched hands. That imprints on a child's memory. Messes with them. Even if she was isolated from society by now she must know that slaughtering human beings for enjoyment isn't seen as right. Yet she frolics around like she doesn't have a care in the world. Trying to answer one question just leads into a downwards spiral ending in a sea with more unanswered questions. I pull the black shirt over my head rearranging my hair so it's out my face. I push the thought to the back of my mind. Best not to dwell on it. Keira's right. I shouldn't care why she's here or how she grew up. I'm here for me. I must remain focussed if I'm to enter the Elites. I'm close. I can't afford any more distractions. I'm going to graduate and finally do right by my family.

Nothing else matters.

No one else matters.