THE SYSTEM RIGGED AGAINST US UNTIL ONE BROKEN CAMERA EXPOSED THE CRUEL TRUTH

Julian stood amidst the burning debris, his school blazer soaked from the overhead sprinklers, his face smeared with soot and sweat. He wasn't crying, nor was he panicked; instead, a manic, desperate grin twisted his features as he stared at Arthur and Clara through the haze.

“You ruined everything!” Julian screamed, his voice cracking with adolescent hysteria as he waved the burning industrial flare threateningly toward the remaining stacks of paper files. “My dad said I was going to Cornell! Everything was set! And you two ruined it over a stupid test!”

“Drop the flare, Julian. It’s over,” Arthur said firmly, holding his hands up defensively as he took a cautious step forward through the ankle-deep water pooling on the concrete floor. “Your parents are already in handcuffs. Continuing this isn't going to change anything except add arson charges to your record.”

“I don't care!” Julian shrieked, taking a wild step backward toward the open vault shelves where thousands of historical student records were stored. “If I don't get my future, nobody else gets theirs either!”

He lowered the smoking flare directly toward a towering stack of dry cardboard archive boxes filled with district-wide academic transcripts.

Clara didn't hesitate. Remembering the heavy metal wrench still tucked into the back pocket of Arthur’s dropped jacket, she slipped it out, took a steadying breath, and hurled it with all her remaining strength across the room.

The heavy wrench caught Julian squarely on the wrist, knocking the burning flare out of his hand and sending it spinning harmlessly into a puddle of water where it hissed and died out in a cloud of thick steam.

Julian cried out, clutching his bruised wrist and stumbling backward into the metal shelving unit, which collapsed with a deafening metallic clatter, pinning him harmlessly to the floor.

Arthur rushed forward, pulling Julian clear of the collapsing shelves just as heavy boots echoed down the flooded stairwell.

Lieutenant Miller and three armed deputies burst into the charred archive room, their flashlights cutting through the smoke.

“Freeze! Hands where I can see them!” Miller shouted, before lowering his weapon as he surveyed the scene. He looked down at Julian pinned in the wreckage, then at Arthur and Clara standing side by side amidst the smoke and water.