"I know. As long as that guy doesn't mess with me, we're fine. If he does, I'll show him what cruelty means."
Ryden thought it through calmly and settled on a plan.
To deal with a bully, you use a bully's methods to push back. Convince them with "virtue."
Yes. Convince them with "virtue."
And a gun.
No issues there.
"If it really gets bad, let my dad and your sister know. They're cops. Maybe they can help us."
Terrence thought it over. Calling for backup was the only option he could think of.
Ryden shook his head.
He knew he had a sister, but he hadn't actually met her. At least not since rebirth.
She hadn't come home in over a month, so there was no real sense of closeness.
As for Terrence's father, Brad Rhodes was always busy. Word was he worked Major Crimes and spent most of his time chasing drug traffickers.
"No need. I've got a way to handle it. It's fine. Just a little punk like Rocca. Trust me."
Ryden felt the gun components resting in his backpack.
No matter how tough someone was, they couldn't beat an assault rifle.
No matter how strong you were, one bullet was enough.
Seeing that expression, the two-hundred-pound Terrence knew Ryden really did have a plan.
He lowered his head and focused on demolishing the massive "Gigantic Mac" the server had just brought over.
Egg. Beef. Bread. Secret sauce.
It definitely stimulated the appetite.
In the afternoon, Ryden headed to the faculty office.
The American-style office was a large shared space with several teachers, desks arranged like a corporate floor.
If you ignored the piles of test papers and textbooks, you'd think they were white-collar professionals.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He glanced around.
Lucky.
Dia was the only one there.
Her golden hair was pinned up into an elegant bun, revealing her pale, graceful swan-like neck.
Her skin was almost crystalline. The kind that made people stare until they walked straight into a wall.
"Is something wrong, Ryden?"
Seeing a student come to find her alone, Dia felt a flicker of nervousness.
Was it because of what she'd said that morning?
Marrying her student?
Even if that sort of thing wasn't unheard of in the States, she still hadn't adjusted to the idea.
"Ms. Dia, are you free tonight? I'd like to take you to dinner."
Ryden smiled lightly, his expression harmless, deliberately lowering her guard.
"W-Why? You should be focusing on your studies. Even if you're accepted to MIT, you shouldn't get arrogant. You still have a long way to go."
Flustered, Dia instinctively slipped into her teacher role.
"It's nothing like that. MIT is a two-day bus ride away. I just want to have a meal with my teacher before I leave. Once I go, I might not have many chances to see you again."
He paused.
"Teacher, can't you grant me this?"
Ryden put on a pitiful expression, as if this were a final farewell.
Dia had no real way to refuse.
If Terrence were there, he'd definitely scoff.
I don't believe you for a second. You crafty old fox.
"...Alright. Just dinner. Don't get any ideas."
She hesitated, then nodded.
She didn't want him to leave with regrets. And if he really went to Massachusetts, it wouldn't be convenient to return to New York often.
It was just a meal.
Nothing more.
"Great. After school, let's meet at Hank's Wood-Fire Grill on Creek-End Street."
Ryden named the place without hesitation.
In his mind, this was their first date.
"Ah... there?" Dia hesitated. "Isn't that place very expensive?"
She hadn't been, but she'd heard it was a high-end restaurant.
Ryden was still a student. His family didn't seem wealthy.
Seeing her concern, Ryden waved it off.
"Don't worry, Teacher. I have money. I'm a shareholder in Stark Industries now. They gave me a bonus of several thousand dollars. More than enough for one meal."
He smiled.
"It's just dinner. Who knows when the next chance will be? Just listen to me."
Dia could only nod, suppressing her confusion while feeling a growing curiosity.
This student used to be withdrawn. Quiet. Always reading or experimenting.
Since that accident, he'd changed.
Returning to the classroom, Ryden immediately felt two waves of hostile intent from behind.
He didn't need to look.
Rocca.
Hmph.
The guy was annoying, sure. His father was a Colonel.
But once the AK-47 became a hit, replacing a Colonel through military pressure wouldn't be hard at all.
Capitalism had its perks.
Money talked.
The entire afternoon, Ryden buried himself in reference books, occasionally jotting down notes on firearm improvements.
He also skimmed mechanical manufacturing texts, but they were useless. No real data. Just shallow overviews.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The dismissal bell rang.
Girls immediately swarmed around Ryden, openly inviting him over.
American girls were bold. No hesitation.
At this age, dating was normal. If you didn't have a boyfriend or girlfriend, people thought something was wrong.
Parents even lectured their kids about birth control.
Everything was open and direct.
It gave Ryden a noticeable ego boost.
Different country. Different lifestyle.
"Hey, Ryden. You think you're hot stuff now, huh? Big shot? Do you have any idea how pissed I am right now?"
Rocca lumbered over with his lackey, arms thicker than most people's thighs.
No idea what he ate to get that huge.
"Hey. Don't start anything."
Terrence stepped forward immediately.
He didn't want trouble either. Rocca could crush him like an ant.
That didn't stop him from standing in front of his friend.
"That's enough, Terrence. Let me handle this."
Ryden pulled him back, genuinely moved.
A real brother would take a bullet for you.
"Whether you're pissed or not has nothing to do with me, lard-ass."
Ryden looked straight at Rocca.
"I know your only backing is your dad. I just wonder if he knows he's about to lose his job because he raised a moron for a son."
In the past, Ryden would've avoided this.
He couldn't afford the consequences.
Now, it was different.
With capital behind him, he wouldn't back down.
Before, he had no choice.
Now, he refused to be a coward.
He wanted to be a warrior.
Even facing someone like Rocca, he would move forward.
Just like Steve Rogers once said:
Keep going. If you get knocked down, get back up, and you'll always have a chance to win.
But once you retreat, you'll make a habit of it.