Chapter Text
The air around him was cold as Phil pushed open the curtains to the south window in his shabby professor’s apartment on campus, a cup of peppermint tea in his hands for the migraine he’d had since he’d woken up that morning. He wasn’t sure if it was the latent stress from move-in day, or the fact that classes started tomorrow, or if it was that he knew that the son of the CEO of InnitCorp was in not just his homeroom, but also a few of his other classes. Their last interaction had been...similarly painful to the migraine.
He just hoped that the several years between then and now had put some maturity into him.
Phil set the mug on the desk next to the window, smiling at the photo of his wife on the counter next to his laptop. She’d promised to visit soon, but he wasn’t sure if she’d even be let in on the premises. He’d told her where he worked when they’d gotten engaged, in case him being a teacher at a school for future professional criminals was a dealbreaker. Phil got lucky. It wasn’t.
They were stingy on who they let in and out, obviously. No regular person was stumbling onto campus without a reason, especially with them located in the remote north of some scandinavian country. Even Phil wasn’t sure if it was Sweden or Finland, or even a Western part of Russia, he just knew that it was somewhere on the coast, where the sea froze over into an icy froth during the winter, and the students pushed each other off the craggily rocks and into the water.
He let out a sigh as he looked across the yard, where he could see the rounds of black cars dropping off students, who all held their ties, green and black striped, in hand. It was both tradition and protocol to wear something over your eyes when being picked up from your rendezvous location, and most students chose their ties over the black sacks that went over the whole head. Older students, some of which he recognized, dragged along younger ones, who held the black ties that came with the first year uniform.
His apartment unfortunately faced the yard this year, rather than the one with its window towards the sea that he’d been lucky enough to nab the year before. Phil would have to hope that this year's student body would stay towards the eastern yard this year instead of the west, or else he’d have to deal with the noise, or things getting ‘accidentally’ thrown at his window.
Phil had at least a few hours before he’d be required at the faculty meeting before dinner, and could spend some time with a book and his tea before he had to walk the halls filled with the incoming class. He knew he’d be swarmed by at least a few of them, asking about his syllabus before class, whether or not he’d require the third language credit this year, and if he’d be holding tutoring sessions for those who fell behind.
He was lucky that his class was a relatively normal one. Phil had been a traveling grifter in his previous life, speaking nearly eight languages now, with an authority on much of the culture and security in different countries. He primarily taught ‘Global Law and Culture’, a required course for first years, along with the elective courses ‘Confidence Tricks Throughout History’, ‘The Art of Deception’, and Japanese and French language courses that were popular with many of the students.
He’d never really wanted to be a teacher, always enjoying the time alone in his travels, depending on only himself; but when it was between jail time and a well-paying job talking about what he knew best? He chose teaching.
Phil grabbed his mug again as he pushed one of the curtains back into place, looking down at the figures walking by, before heading towards his small living room. He passed through the hallway, where a closed door led to the bathroom, before walking into his lounge space. At the far end was a bookshelf, filled with all sorts of volumes of different sizes.
He flipped through them, wondering which he might assign for reading this year. Phil pulled one out, a murder mystery he hadn’t read in a while, and took a seat in one of his chairs. He kept looking over at the door as he tried to enjoy the last few hours of freedom before his duty as a faculty member kicked in, as if he was expecting someone to start knocking down his door any second.
Eventually, the time came, and he put on something that looked relatively nice, a monotone, worn suit that would blend in with the other faculty well. Phil placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and pulled the satchel over his shoulder, before opening the door to his apartment, and stepping out into the hall. He locked the two bolts on his door, the ones that he used as backup in case the one that required his fingerprint was disabled.
At Hermes Academy, anything was possible.
Phil headed down the hall, pushing the door at the end open. The sounds of students, their voices and their shoes echoing against the cold grey tile that laid the floor of the entire academy, hit him all at once, and he looked down at the bustle of people below. Some shoved each other around, while others ducked and dipped by to avoid being caught in a scuffle. Phil took in one final deep breath, and descended the stairs.
As he traveled through the sea of students, a few people stared, while others shouted loud hellos. He gave the few he knew a wave, and headed towards the faculty lounge, which was wherever this meeting was supposed to take place.
Any students that stopped him to ask about class, he simply waved away with a quick, “I’ll go over it when class has actually started.”
For students at a school about breaking rules, you would be surprised at the amount working to ace their classes.
He took a few turns to the quieter halls of the academy, passing one of the center courtyards, where people were already laying around outside, chatting and enjoying the last bits of sunlight before the bitter northern winter took over for much of the school year. Phil spotted a few fellow professors heading in the same direction, and took one last turn, only to notice a student leaning against the wall next to the entrance to the faculty lounge.
The kid was tall, though Phil supposed that he wasn’t technically a ‘kid’, most students here were college age or older, but he’d known this particular student since before his first year. His eyes were deep with bags, and his skin as pale as ever, but his hair was noticeably pinker this year than the one previous.
“Class starts tomorrow Techno,” Phil sighed as he slowed to stop at the door. Nicknames or pseudonyms were common at the academy, often to hide your identity, either if you were the child of someone powerful, or simply for your own future safety. Enemies made here were often enemies for life. “You can ask me all of the questions about it to your heart's content tomorrow.”
“Why would you think I have questions about class?” He replied, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just like this corridor.”
“Because you always have questions.” Phil glanced around. “And it’s never a good sign when out of any other student I've run into today, you’ve managed to get the most out of me.” Phil furrowed his eyebrows at the student’s well groomed pink hair pulled into a ponytail. “What’s with the, uh-” he pointed to Techno’s head.
He smoothed it back with a hand subconsciously. “Friend back home dared me to do it.” Techno’s eyes were dull and tired beneath his glasses. “I’m taking your Art of Deception course this year, and I want to know if you’re having verbal presentations.”
“You're taking AD? But you’re a forgery major,” Phill furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “What am I saying. I don’t care right now. I need to get into this meeting. You can learn when you come to class.”
“Yes or no?” Techno replied.
“Class. Tomorrow.” Phil moved past him, pushing open the door.
The door swung shut behind him, and though he felt bad, he knew Techno wouldn’t take it too harshly. The year was just beginning, and Phil wanted a few more moments of peace before the chaos of the school year overtook him.
It was a school for criminals, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t adamant about grades, and overachievers like Techno could grate on you, despite their best intentions.
He sat through the meeting, incredibly bored, texting his wife on their secure line under the table. It lasted until dinner, when they were then sent off to the dining hall to sit through the opening remarks of their Headmaster.
Phil took his seat next to the head of the Infiltration department, Professor Takahashi, and one of the hacking professors. There were already some students in the room, scattered about throughout the tables that dotted the open room, hanging out and talking. As soon as the professors arrived, most of the school began filtering in through the open doors at the end and on either sides of the hall. A few even pushed open window pains above and rappelled down, no doubt either trying to show off, or impress some of the first years.
It was another ten minutes or so before the doors were closed, and a tall man in a fancier version of the school’s uniform took to the podium.
“Hello everyone,” he said in his cheerful, accented tone. “For those of you who don’t know, I am your Headmaster, Dr. Scott S. Major, and I am here to welcome you all to another year at Hermes Academy. We are glad to have everyone here, and it’s wonderful to see all of your shining faces, ready for a year of doing what we do best.”
A cheer went up from one of the tables, and was quickly echoed by the rest of the student body. Phil’s eyes fell onto the table filled with students he’d pegged as troublemakers since they’d been first years two odd years ago.
“It appears that our juniors over there agree,” Headmaster Major replied good-naturedly. Phil felt a half smirk grow on his face. The Headmaster came off as a cheerful mark, but under the surface, he was a well put together Mastermind. He'd graduated top of his class from the program when he'd attended the academy.
There was no doubt in Phil's mind that he'd not only deduced long before the ceremony that one of that group might try to pull something during Opening, but also knew to take their... “I think they still have a lot to learn.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Mr. Dream, I believe you’re missing these.” Scott was never wrong.
A tall, muscular kid with short brown hair stood, and the hall erupted into laughter. His friends at either side, one Sapnap and George, slapped him on the back as they roared with snorted laughter.
However, Phil’s eyes flicked across the room, to where another junior sat, arms crossed against his chest, a smile tight on his face. Illumina seemed pleasantly amused that his rival was being called out for showboating.
It was no secret that Dream and Illumina were always at each other's throats, half of the school making bets about whether or not they would eventually get together, while the other half school was hoping that both of them shut up about the Sumner Run for once. They were both the same year, top of their class, obsessed with the Infiltration department’s course known as the Sumner Run, usually used to test the speed and ingenuity with which students could plan and execute a heist on a heavily guarded object, but used by them to see who could come up with shortcuts to better shave down their time.
They’d been breaking each other’s records as soon as they’d been let into the course. Phil wondered what bullshit they’d get up to this year.
He pulled his eyes away as Dream dashed up to snatch his keys, putting his hands up in a ‘not my fault’ way as he returned to his friends.
“Anyway,” Scott continued. “As we do every year, I must go over the ground rules. Even though this is a school centered around things that may lead you to believe that you will be able to get away with stealing or other illegal activity, there is often a chance you will not. The point of the academy is to teach, not to allow you to steal from your fellow classmates. However, there are a few exceptions.”
He held out a finger, “number one. If you are stealing something for a class project or assignment, it must be returned within four hours of it being turned in. Number two, any sort of activities that happen in the classroom should not happen outside the classroom. We aren’t having a repeat of someone falling off the roof after improper grappling hook management.” Scott held out one final finger. “And number three. If you are to steal anyone’s life, it will result in immediate expulsion, and dire consequences.” He waved his hand, “there’s a few other minor rules, but most people will teach you those as you get used to the program.”
One of the professors leaned forward and tapped Scott on the shoulder, whispering something. He nodded, “oh, and rule number four, starting this year, no Sumner Runs after midnight anymore. I think you know who you are.”
Phil let out a soft snort as he looked to Dream and Illumina, who seemed both betrayed and annoyed as they looked back and forth between each other and the Headmaster.
“Alright, that’s all I think I need to say for now. Enjoy your dinner, and have a wonderful school year!”
There was then the sounds of chairs scraping as the students got up to go and grab their food from the kitchen area next door. Phil watched the crowd of students go by.
He saw Techno walking next to the infamous Wilbur Soot, which was odd, he hadn't remembered the two of them being friends. Phil watched as the self-titled “Dream Team” along with a few of their tag-alongs, of whom Phil recognized Punz, Karl, Bad, and Skeppy, headed off in a pack. He’d had all of them together in their first year Global Law and Culture Course. It had been the worst class of his life.
His gaze then fell to a kid with puffy blonde hair, wearing a red tie around his neck, rather than the uniform black, voice loud enough that he could hear it from halfway across the hall. Tommy Innit.
He'd never met a student like him stupid enough to use their real name. When he'd read it on the roster, he'd nearly gone to administrations to change it himself. It was a bad move for the son of a massive company to not hide his name. Worse to use his full name for that matter.
“Lots of potential this year, hmm Phil?” Professor Takahashi, who was sat next to him spoke, she seemed to be watching the crowd as well.
“I’m sure you’re happy to have two prodigies in your class.”
“They’re as genius as they are annoying,” she replied in a grumble. “I’ll be glad if I make it through to the second semester without them breaking the run again.”
“How many times have they broken it now?”
“In time, or physically?”
“I dunno, both?” He grinned. “Can’t imagine having a position like yours.”
She ran her hands over her face. “Wish me luck and plenty of alcohol.”
“I heard they’re serving it in the dining hall this year.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows.
“No, I wish.” he sighed. “Especially with the incoming year. I think there’s still some in the faculty lounge I don’t think’s been stolen yet.”
“I will be back in less than five minutes, do you want anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” He chuckled. “Knock yourself out, Mari.”
As she headed off, he sat back in his chair. He caught the eye of a young kid trailing after Tommy, who looked up at him curiously before ducking away. The kid wore green, seemed quiet. Probably a hacker. A Hacker and a Businessman never meant good things.
This year was going to be something. And probably not a good something.