The Laws of Violence
The Chain Reaction
There's a universal truth in both science and street fights—one action always leads to another.
Newton's Third Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Elias Clarke had put down Tyrell, the so-called King of Blackridge High, in front of everyone.
The reaction?
Every gang in the school now had their eyes on him.
The classroom incident had already spread like wildfire. By lunchtime, students whispered in hushed voices. Some were amused, others in disbelief.
And some? They saw an opportunity.
That was the thing about power vacuums.
They never stayed empty for long.
---
The Next Problem to Solve
Elias sat in the teacher's lounge, quietly grading test papers. He sipped his black coffee, flipping through the miserable attempts his students had made at solving basic calculus problems.
"Mr. Clarke, are you even aware of what's happening?"
Elias didn't look up. The voice belonged to Ms. Lively, the school's physics teacher—a woman who somehow still believed in teaching these kids despite the constant chaos.
"Clarify," Elias said, red pen scratching against the page as he circled another incorrect answer.
Lively sighed, sitting across from him. "You embarrassed Tyrell in front of the entire class. Do you know what that means?"
Elias looked up, completely deadpan. "That the school's average IQ increased by two points?"
Lively groaned. "It means other students are coming for you."
Elias didn't react. He simply flipped to the next test paper.
"The answer to question five is supposed to be 1.618," he muttered, more to himself than to Lively. "How does someone arrive at -72,000? Did they just throw numbers at the paper and hope for divine intervention?"
"Clarke, focus!"
"I am." He took another sip of coffee. "On actual problems. Not hypothetical ones."
Lively leaned forward. "They're not hypothetical. I overheard a group of juniors talking about jumping you after school. They're part of that gang—what's it called?"
"The Vector Boys," a new voice chimed in.
It was Mr. Delgado, the history teacher, standing by the coffee machine. He shook his head. "They're trying to take Tyrell's place. And if they can take you down, they'll earn instant status."
Elias set his pen down, finally acknowledging them.
"So, let me get this straight." He leaned back. "A group of mathematically illiterate teenagers are planning to fight me. Their name is the Vector Boys, implying they at least know what a vector is—which, if their test scores are anything to go by, is highly unlikely. And they think this is a good idea?"
Lively gave him a look. "You're actually enjoying this, aren't you?"
Elias smirked. "It's hilarious."
Delgado chuckled. "Well, it's happening. Might want to prepare."
Elias picked up his pen, twirling it between his fingers.
"Prepare?" he said, voice completely flat. "Delgado, what do you think I've been doing my entire life?"
---
After School: The Ambush
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the empty schoolyard.
Elias walked calmly, adjusting his tie. The teacher's lounge had been noisy, the classroom full of fools, but here? Here was quiet.
A shame that wouldn't last.
From behind the school building, five figures stepped out.
The Vector Boys.
They had numbers.
They had weapons—brass knuckles, a broken pipe, even a chain.
But they had something far more dangerous than all of that.
They had the confidence of idiots.
The leader, a tall kid with a buzz cut, smirked. "You really thought you could walk out of here without consequences, Teach?"
Elias sighed. "Are we seriously doing this? I had a lesson plan to prepare."
The kid twirled the chain in his hands. "You had a lesson, alright. A lesson in respect."
Elias adjusted his glasses. "Respect is earned. And right now, you're proving why you failed algebra."
The kid's eye twitched. "What?"
Elias sighed and began explaining as if lecturing a class.
"A vector has both magnitude and direction. A gang calling itself the Vector Boys implies two things. One: that you understand how to measure force—which you clearly don't, judging by your stance. Two: that you can predict trajectories—which is laughable, considering you're standing directly downwind of me."
The kid blinked. "What does that even—"
Elias moved.
Faster than any of them expected.
His foot planted firmly on the ground. A precise, calculated kick to the knee.
The leader buckled instantly.
Momentum. A simple equation: Force = Mass × Acceleration.
A human knee was not designed to absorb force at that angle.
One down.
---
Newton's First Law: An Object in Motion Stays in Motion
The second thug came swinging—brass knuckles aimed straight for Elias' jaw.
Elias didn't block.
He redirected.
A step to the left. A tap on the wrist.
The punch sailed past him, the thug's body still moving forward.
"Your problem," Elias muttered, "is a misunderstanding of inertia."
With a swift backhand to the head, he sent the thug sprawling.
Two down.
---
Kinetic Energy and a Chain Reaction
The third attacker swung the metal chain, aiming to wrap it around Elias' arm.
Elias caught it mid-air.
"You ever heard of the pendulum effect?" he asked.
He yanked the chain.
The attacker's own momentum ripped him off balance.
One elbow strike later—and he was out cold.
Three down.
---
Final Lesson: Gravity Wins
The last two looked at each other.
They ran.
Elias let them.
As the leader groaned from the ground, clutching his knee, Elias crouched down.
"I'm giving you a passing grade in pain." His voice was calm, almost bored. "If you come after me again, I'll teach you about terminal velocity."
The kid glared. "You think you're untouchable?"
Elias smirked. "No. I think you're bad at math."
And with that, he stood up, dusted off his suit, and walked away—leaving behind nothing but bruises, broken pride, and a math lesson they would never forget.