"There is no questions, correct?" Professor Yewman looked toward his class, and they looked back sullenly with a glazed stare. Jamian, or James, was part of class 423, a philosophy class with Kintan Yewman, a world renowned psychologist and the most boring person in the world. 

"I have one question," James spoke with an almost monotone voice, with just enough intonation to get everyone's attention. "When the hell are we leaving?" The professor glared at him. The class laughed. And then the bell rung, prompting everyone to get up to leave. 

"Jamian Woreshaw, stay after class." Yewman announced this loudly, as to prove a point. James sighed, and sat back down as everyone left. "So what was all that about?" James looked up at the professor, and then shrugged.

"I dunno. You have any guesses?" Yewman's face flushed with anger at this comment. "I mean, I was bored to death in your class." James smiled. "Your voice was more monotone than a brick. Fuck's sake you can talk louder you cu-"

"You shut your damn mouth boy!" Yewman growled at him, with as much emotion as a mother elephant seeing their calf get slaughtered. "Now that you've talked your ass into detention, I think I have earned a right to speak." James got him to snap. "You think you can keep on like this you have a different thing coming, boy. Do you know who I am to many? Do you know why I am so monotone?"

"Because our torture is your amusement, of course." James smiled with a fake air of kindness, to cover up his smugness.

"Because my real profession is much more powerful." Yewman smiled to James. James paled as he was Yewman draw out a military knife with the word engraved "Death" into it. "Ever heard of a Hitman?" Before James could move the knife was to his to his throat, and he was on the ground. "Now, boy. Tell me the truth. Why did you speak thow words to me?"

"F-Fuck o-" He make a choking sound as the knife pressed further toward his neck. "Okay! Okay! I'll tell you!" Yewman smiled wider, and dropped the knife. Now was his chance! 

"Fuck you that's why!" James flipped Yewman into the floor, and grabbed the knife off the floor, pinning the professor toward the ground, and holding the knife to the man's throat.

"Good, good. But what you don't know, Jamian, is that I have you down." James felt a knife plunge right past his ribs, deep into his chest. The blade was icy cold, and James almost fainted. But then he grabbed behind him, and threw Yewman to the ground. Yewman smiled, and got up.

"You're strong son, but it'll take more than that to knock me down." The vision started to darken. James got up, but then stumbled to the ground. "After all, the knife is drugged, and you are younger." Everything then went black.