The Dark Matter Sage

Michael sat hunched over in the cold metal chair, his fingers gripping the edges of the table as if it might steady him. The revolver was long gone, confiscated by the police, but the weight of it still pressed on his mind. His chest felt hollow, as though the events of the day had scraped him clean of anything solid.

The counselor, a woman in her late forties with a kind but firm demeanor, sat across from him, her hands resting gently on the table. She didn't speak at first, letting the silence settle between them. Michael couldn't meet her gaze.

"Michael," she said softly, "how are you feeling right now?"

He shrugged, his shoulders tightening. "I don't know. Empty, I guess."

She nodded, her expression calm. "That's normal after something like this. A lot of emotions all at once—fear, anger, shame. It can leave you feeling... raw."

Michael flinched at the word. "I didn't mean for it to go this far," he muttered. "I just wanted them to stop."

"The bullying?" she asked gently.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. "They didn't care what it did to me. None of them did. Not the teachers, not the other kids. They just... laughed."

His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists. "And I—I couldn't take it anymore. I thought maybe if I scared them, they'd finally get it."

The counselor leaned forward slightly. "And do you think they understand now?"

Michael blinked, his breath hitching. "I don't know. Maybe. But it doesn't matter, does it? I screwed up. I hurt people. And that guy..."

Her head tilted. "The man who came in?"

Michael nodded slowly. "He looked at me like I wasn't a monster. Like I was... worth something. Why would he do that?"

The counselor's eyes softened. "Sometimes, people see what others don't. He might have seen someone who was hurting, someone who needed help—not judgment."

Michael's jaw trembled. "But why would he care? He doesn't even know me."

"Maybe that's why," she said. "Because he didn't know you, but he still saw you. And maybe he wanted to give you what no one else had: a chance."

Michael swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I don't deserve it."

"That's not for me or anyone else to decide," she replied. "But I think the fact that you're here, talking to me, says you want something different. Am I right?"

He hesitated before giving a small nod. "I just... I don't want to feel like this anymore. Like there's nothing left."

The counselor smiled faintly, her voice steady. "Then let's start there. You've already taken the hardest step—letting someone see the real you. The rest? We'll figure it out together."

Michael's shoulders sagged, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washing over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel entirely alone.

Meanwhile, across social media platforms, a new video surfaced. Shot by a student hiding behind a cafeteria table, it showed Tony calmly walking toward Michael, his hands raised. His voice, though low, was clear enough to be heard:

"You're right. None of them cared before. But I do. I'm here to help."

The video cut off just as Michael lowered the gun, but it was enough. Within hours, it had gone viral, garnering millions of views and sparking heated debates.

"This guy is incredible. He saved those kids without violence. We need more people like him."

"Who is this man? Someone find him!"

"This has to be staged. No way anyone is that calm in a situation like this."

"Real or not, that's bravery. Respect."

The hashtags #UnknownHero and #CafeteriaSavior trended, and amateur sleuths began dissecting the video for clues about Tony's identity.

At a hastily organized press conference outside the police station, Captain Renee Park faced a barrage of questions from reporters.

"Captain, who was the man who de-escalated the situation?"

"Is he working with the police?"

"Why wasn't he detained for questioning?"

Park held up her hands, her expression calm but firm. "At this time, we cannot confirm the identity of the individual who intervened during the incident. Our focus was on ensuring the safety of the students and staff."

One reporter pressed further. "Captain, are you saying that you allowed a strange man that no one knows to enter a hostage crises and now no one at the school could identify him?"

"That's correct," Park said reluctantly. "We've interviewed students and faculty, but no one seems to know who he is. He left the scene before we could get any information."

Another reporter leaned forward. "Doesn't that raise questions about your competence Captain? Also why would someone step in and then disappear?"

Park hesitated. "The individual's actions prevented further harm and resolved the situation peacefully. While his motives are unclear, his intervention undoubtedly saved lives."

News outlets latched onto the mystery, running stories with headlines like:

"Who is the Cafeteria Savior?"

"Mystery Hero Stops Hostage Crisis"

"Real-Life Superhero or Reckless Vigilante?"

Commentators debated whether Tony's actions were heroic or reckless. Some argued that untrained civilians had no business intervening in such situations, while others praised his courage and compassion.

Renee Park sat in her office late into the night, the dim light of her desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day replayed in her mind.

Why did I let him go in there? she thought, drumming her fingers on the armrest. She wasn't one to bend protocol—her entire career had been built on measured decisions and control. Letting a civilian walk into an active hostage situation was neither measured nor controlled.

But there had been something about him. His confidence, his calm demeanor, the way he seemed utterly unshaken by the chaos around him—it wasn't arrogance, but an undeniable sense of capability. Park had seen plenty of people crack under pressure, but not him. He'd spoken with certainty, as if he already knew how things would play out.

"Who the hell are you?" she muttered aloud, the unanswered question gnawing at her.

Back in his apartment, Tony leaned against the wall, staring out the window at the city lights. The adrenaline had long since faded, but unease lingered, curling in his gut like smoke.

Why was it so easy? he wondered. It hadn't just been walking into the school—it was everything. Captain Park had barely questioned him. The faculty and students had moved aside as if he belonged there. Even Michael, with all his anger and fear, had lowered the gun almost too willingly.

Tony shook his head, his thoughts turning inward. Roomie, you got any insight on this?

Roomie's hum resonated softly in his mind before replying. Your enhanced presence likely influenced their reactions. Heightened cognitive functions project confidence and control. Humans are attuned to such signals, often responding subconsciously.

Tony frowned. So you're saying I basically Jedi mind-tricked them?

Negative. Influence is non-coercive. Your demeanor aligns with their expectations of authority in high-pressure scenarios.

Tony rubbed his temples, still unsettled. That doesn't explain why it felt so natural. I didn't plan any of that—it just... happened.

Natural adaptation. Neural enhancements optimize situational responses.

Tony sighed, pushing off the wall and pacing the room. I'm not sure I like the idea of people reacting to me like that. It feels... off.

Your discomfort indicates awareness. This is beneficial. Use it to refine your approach.

Tony stopped pacing, staring at the darkened window. Yeah, sure. Refining my approach is one thing. But what happens when someone doesn't react the way I expect?

Roomie's hum was softer this time, almost contemplative. Then you adapt further.

Tony didn't find the answer comforting. He stared at his reflection, the weight of his abilities settling on his shoulders once again.

A knock at the door startled him, and he tensed before realizing it was Jay. He opened the door to find her holding a laptop, her eyes wide.

"Have you seen this?" she asked, shoving the laptop toward him.

Tony nodded, stepping aside to let her in. "Yeah, I've seen it."

Jay sat on the couch, her voice tinged with both excitement and worry. "Tony, this is huge. People are calling you a hero. But... they're also looking for you. What are you going to do?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. "I don't know. I wasn't trying to be a hero, Jay. I just didn't want anyone to get hurt."

Jay stood, grabbing his arm to stop him. "And you didn't. You saved those kids, Tony. That matters. But if this keeps happening, you're going to have to decide how to handle it."

Tony met her gaze, his jaw tightening. "I know. I just... I'm not ready for the world to know who I am."

Jay's expression softened. "Then we'll figure it out. But Tony, whatever happens, you're not doing this alone."

He smiled faintly, squeezing her hand. "Thanks, Jay. I mean it."

As she sat back down, scrolling through the video comments, Tony felt the weight of the growing spotlight pressing down on him. Whether he liked it or not, his actions had consequences—and the world wasn't going to look away.