The Staffroom War Council
The Ripple Effect
Violence, like an equation, has predictable results.
One fight leads to another. A single action disturbs the system, forcing all variables to adjust.
Elias Clarke wasn't surprised when he walked into the teacher's lounge the next morning and found every faculty member staring at him.
It was inevitable.
Word of the Vector Boys' humiliating defeat had spread across Blackridge High like a mathematical theorem proving itself.
The gang wasn't just beaten—they were calculated out of existence.
Now?
Everyone wanted to know:
Who the hell was Elias Clarke?
---
The Council of Teachers
The lounge had never been this quiet.
Elias calmly poured himself a cup of coffee, ignoring the weight of dozens of stares.
Ms. Lively, the physics teacher, leaned forward first. "Alright, Clarke. Spill. What exactly did you do to those kids?"
Elias took a sip, exhaling slowly. "I educated them."
A few teachers exchanged glances.
"Educated them how?" Mr. Carter, the chemistry teacher, raised an eyebrow.
Elias set his mug down and adjusted his tie. "Through applied force and Newtonian mechanics."
A few teachers choked on their drinks.
"Let me get this straight," Mr. Delgado, the history teacher, said, rubbing his temples. "You beat up an entire gang of students—using physics?"
Elias sighed. "Delgado, be specific. I used physics, math, and a basic understanding of human incompetence."
Lively groaned. "Clarke, do you hear yourself?"
"Of course." He took another sip. "I have excellent hearing."
A silence stretched between them.
Finally, the principal spoke.
Mr. Grantham was an old man, one of the few who had been at Blackridge for decades. His wrinkled hands folded neatly on the table as he stared at Elias with sharp, calculating eyes.
"You know," Grantham began, "I expected you to be an ordinary mathematics teacher."
Elias gave a small, cold smile. "I am."
Grantham chuckled. "No, Clarke. You're not." He leaned forward. "And now, the entire school knows it."
The weight of the words settled over the room.
Elias remained unfazed.
"I assume there's a point to this conversation?" he asked.
Grantham exhaled. "There is. You've disrupted the system. You may not care, but Blackridge has a delicate balance. The gangs control the students. The students fear the gangs. The staff keeps their heads down. That's how it's always been."
Elias took another sip. "Sounds inefficient."
Grantham gave him a long look. "Maybe. But it's predictable. And now? Now you've broken the equation."
Elias tilted his head slightly. "And?"
Grantham's eyes narrowed. "And you need to decide what happens next."
---
The New Variables
The meeting ended, but the consequences lingered.
By the time Elias returned to his classroom, he already knew the truth.
There was no going back.
His presence had shifted the balance of the school, forcing new variables into play.
And sure enough, as he entered his classroom, he found a new problem waiting for him.
A new gang.
A new challenge.
The Friction Crew.
Their leader, a tall, lanky senior named Brandon Reyes, leaned against Elias' desk, arms crossed. He had sharp eyes and a smirk that suggested he actually knew what a derivative was.
"Mr. Clarke," Brandon said casually, "I hear you like math."
Elias set his books down. "Astute observation. I'm a math teacher."
Brandon chuckled. "Yeah, but I mean real math. The kind that doesn't just sit on a whiteboard—the kind you solve with your fists."
Elias studied him. Unlike the Vector Boys, this kid had an air of competence. He wasn't just some reckless thug looking to prove a point.
He was testing Elias.
"Let's cut to the chase," Brandon continued. "You humiliated Tyrell. You crushed the Vectors. And now? The school's talking about you like you're some walking theorem of violence."
Elias adjusted his glasses. "And?"
Brandon smirked. "I wanna see it for myself."
A slow pause.
Then Elias sighed, rolling up his sleeves.
"You know," he muttered, "I was hoping for a quiet day."
Brandon grinned. "Let's see if you can calculate your way out of this one."