The next day, Hamza woke up at 5:00 AM, groaning as he stretched his arms wide."Ahhhh," he yawned, his voice echoing faintly in the quiet apartment.
Still groggy, he dragged himself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to wake up. But somehow, he came out soaked—his shirt clinging to him, hair dripping.
"What is wrong with this sink?" he muttered, wiping water from his eyes.
Smirking, he walked straight to Ali's room, where his friend lay snoring peacefully under the covers. Hamza didn't hesitate—he grabbed a cup, filled itwith cold water, and splashed it right onto Ali's face.
Ali bolted upright, gasping. "YAAAH—what was that for?!"
"Wake up, bro," Hamza said with a grin. "Time for Fajr."
Ali groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Dude, wake me up like a normal human being next time."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."
Ali stumbled into the bathroom while Hamza grabbed their prayer mats and laid them out in the living room. By the time Ali returned, still grumbling, they stood side by side and began praying Fajr together in the quiet of dawn.
The early light crept through the windows, casting a calm glow across the floor as the two friends stood in prayer, starting their day with peace and purpose.
Later that morning, the two made their way to the train station, dressed in their school uniforms. The platform was still half-empty, the early commuters shuffling by with sleepy eyes and coffee cups in hand.
Hamza and Ali found an empty bench and sat down, bags on their laps, watching the tracks in silence.
"Bro," Ali muttered, breaking it, "you know about this new streamer-"
"Who?" Hamza asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ali groaned. "Just let me finish my sentence for once. His name is Mr. X."
"What a basic name," Hamza said, leaning back with a grin.
Ali rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, he's not basic. This guy streams while catching criminals—live."
Hamza's smirk faded slightly. "What?"
"He brutally beats them up. Like, seriously—some of those dudes probably walked away with brain damage. And don't even get me started when he catches a pedo…"
Hamza blinked, stunned. "Wait—he doesn't just expose them?"
Ali leaned forward, eyes wide. "Bro, imagine catching a pedo and straight-up unleashing devious combos on the guy. And by devious combos, I mean DEVIOUS combos. Like—remember when Saed was playing that one fighting game with us? Yeah, worse than his combos."
"Oh god…" Hamza muttered.
The train's whistle echoed down the tracks, growing louder as it approached. The two fell silent, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air.
By the time the train arrived, the sky had lightened just a bit. The doors hissed open, and Hamza and Ali stepped inside, still half-awake, still thinking about Mr. X.
They rode in silence.
Eventually, they reached the school station, got off, and walked the few blocks to campus. The usual chaos was already starting students crowding the front gates, teachers yelling at kids to tuck in shirts, and someone blasting music from their phone.
Hamza and Ali didn't stop to talk to anyone. They slipped through the main doors and headed straight for their first class.
Their first class was quiet at first. Hamza leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out under the desk, eyes half-closed. Ali sat beside him, chewing on the end of his pen.
A few minutes in, Hamza tapped Ali's arm."You still thinking about Mr. X?"
Ali nodded slowly. "Yeah. I was watching him while you were eating that sandwich yesterday."
They kept their voices low, whispering back and forth between quick glances around. Every time one of them said something dumb, the other tried not to laugh too loud.
By second period, they were already bored. Hamza scribbled random doodles in his notebook one of them was a muscular guy labeled Mr. X if he had hair. Ali peeked over and snorted.
"That's literally Saed with a mask."
"Exactly."
They held it together for a bit, but by break time, they were slumped in their chairs like melting ice cream.
As they stepped out into the hallway, Ali stretched. "I feel like that class lasted five hours."
Hamza nodded. "I could hear my brain cells begging for mercy."
They found a quiet spot in the hallway to eat, leaning against the lockers, just the two of them. No big group, no noise. Just chill.
"Wanna skip the last period?" Ali asked with a raised eyebrow.
Hamza thought for a second, then shook his head. "Nah. We're already this close. Let's suffer all the way."
The final classes dragged on, the clock ticking slower than ever. They didn't talk much, just shared tired looks across their desks. Every five minutes, Hamza would raise his hand slightly, showing how much energy he had left. Ali would respond with a dramatic dying gesture.
Finally, the bell rang.
They stood up, grabbed their stuff, and walked out without a word just quiet victory.
Once outside, the sun was already starting to dip, the air warmer than it had been in the morning.
As they left the school gates, Hamza nudged Ali."Same route home?"
"Obviously. Unless Mr. X drops out of the sky or something."
Hamza smirked. "If he does, we're running. I'm not about to get combo'd like one of his victims."
They laughed, walking side by side, backpacks bouncing with every step, their rhythm in sync.
Just another day—made better because they faced it together.
Suddenly, a figure dashed past them, chased by a man wearing a sleek, biker-style mask jet black with a glowing red 'X' slashed across the front. Metallic ridges and small vents gave the mask a robotic look, almost like something out of a sci-fi movie. A camera was strapped to his chest, and a gun rested at his hip.
Ali's eyes widened. "Oh shoot—that's Mr. X!"
"What? Where?" Hamza asked, spinning around.
Ali pointed. "Right there! He's actually chasing someone!"
Hamza blinked in disbelief. "No way... I thought I'd only ever see him on stream, not in real life."
Ali suddenly took off running.Hamza blinked. "Why are you running?!"
"You said we gotta run when he shows up!" Ali shouted over his shoulder.
Hamza called out, "Did he drop from the sky?"
Ali slowed down. "...No?"
"Then don't run. Besides, I'm here what's a normal guy gonna do to me? And didn't you say he only goes after criminals? We've got nothing to worry about," Hamza said, jogging to catch up, half-laughing.
They stopped at the corner, watching as Mr. X vanished down the street in pursuit.
Ali shook his head. "Man… this city's wild."
Suddenly—BANG! BANG!—gunshots rang out.
Panic exploded around them. People screamed and scattered in all directions.
Hamza blinked. "Wait… what?"
"Did the guy just kill Mr. X?" Ali asked, eyes wide.
"Let's find out," Hamza said, already stepping toward the sound of gunfire.
"Bro—what if he shoots me?" Ali warned.
Hamza exhaled, closed his eyes, and reached deep. In a flash, he activated his powers. A wave of weakness hit him—but it passed quickly.
"Don't worry," he said, voice calm. "I got you covered."
They crept forward, each step careful, quiet. As they reached the corner, they peeked around the wall.
Smoke curled from the barrel of the gun in Mr. X's hand. A body lay on the pavement, blood pooling out beneath it, slowly spreading like ink on paper.
"Oh god…" Ali whispered, eyes wide.
A camera lay on the ground, still recording—its lens pointed directly at the corpse.
Mr. X snapped toward the noise, eyes burning through the mask. 'WHO SAID THAT?!' he shouted, voice like a gunshot.
Ali froze.
Ali raised his hand. "Me," he said, stepping forward slightly beside Hamza.
Mr. X swung the gun toward them, eyes wild behind the mask. "Who are you two? Where am I?!"
"You're in an alleyway," Hamza replied calmly.
"HOW DID I GET HERE?! WHY IS THERE A DEAD BODY?! DID YOU SHOOT HIM?!" Mr. X yelled, his hands trembling.
Hamza didn't flinch. "Sir… are you Mr. X?"
Mr. X stared at him, confusion twisting across his face behind the mask. "Who the hell is Mr. X?!"
As the words left his mouth, a sharp whine erupted from the mask—then BOOM! The front of it exploded in a burst of sparks and smoke. Shards of black metal flew outward like shrapnel, the glowing red X flickering once before vanishing in a flash of white light. Wires snapped and dangled like dead nerves, and the man stumbled back, clutching his face as smoke poured from the wreckage where the mask had been.
TBC