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Chaos had never told anyone about the bullying. Not really. She brushed it off when Night asked why she seemed quieter after school. She laughed it away when Flicker caught her staring at her untouched lunch. She waved it off when Bug noticed the bruises on her arms and asked if she was okay.
Because she could handle it.
It wasn’t the first time people had called her a monster. It wasn’t the first time someone had shoved her into a locker, or whispered behind her back about how she didn’t belong.
But when the teacher joined in, it became unbearable.
Chaos sat quietly at her desk, shoulders hunched, as the teacher, Mr. Lawson, continued his lecture. It wasn’t a particularly interesting subject—history—but Chaos usually liked learning about the past. Today, though, all she could do was stare at the worn wooden desk and hope she wouldn’t be called on.
It didn’t work.
"Chaos," Mr. Lawson said, voice laced with irritation. "Perhaps you’d like to tell the class what event led to the signing of the Declaration of Independence"
Chaos hesitated. She had read about it, but her mind was still stuck on what had happened earlier that day. The whispers, the sneers from Matthew, the way he'd muttered about how "freaks shouldn’t be in normal schools."
"I—" she started, but Matthew, seated behind her, muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "Bet she doesn't even know how to read."
A few students snickered. Chaos clenched her fists.
"Well?" Mr. Lawson pressed.
"I…" Chaos started again, but Mr. Lawson sighed exaggeratedly.
"Honestly, I don’t know why I bother. If you put half the effort into studying as you do into being a distraction, maybe you’d have an answer." His words stung more than they should have, and Chaos shrank in her seat as another wave of chuckles swept through the classroom.
When the bell rang, Chaos grabbed her bag and hurried out, ignoring Matthew’s smirk as he muttered another insult under his breath. She kept her head down all the way home, hoping no one would notice the way her hands shook.
Henry noticed.
Henry wasn’t one to involve himself in school matters. He trusted Bug, trusted the family to handle things. But the moment Chaos flinched away when he ruffled her hair, the moment she hesitated to answer when he asked how school was going—he knew something was wrong.
And Henry did not take kindly to someone hurting his kids.
That evening, while Bug was busy with something else, Henry set out, his mind laser-focused.
First, Mr. Lawson.
The teacher was still in the staff lounge when Henry arrived, and the quiet creak of the door was enough to make Lawson glance up from his paperwork. The moment his eyes landed on Henry, however, his posture stiffened.
“You—what are you doing here?” Lawson stammered, trying to regain control of the situation.
Henry didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. His tone was calm, yet it cut through the air like a knife. “You’ve been treating my daughter badly. I’m here to make sure you understand just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”
Lawson blinked. “Your daughter?” He scoffed, trying to regain composure. “Listen, I’m just doing my job—”
“Your job?” Henry interrupted, stepping forward, his size making the teacher shrink back. “Your job is to teach, not to bully. And I know what you’ve been doing. The way you let students tear her apart, the way you ignore her, push her to the side as if she’s worthless—do you think that’s acceptable?”
The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. Lawson's bravado faltered under Henry's icy gaze.
“Let me make this clear," Henry said, his voice low, dangerous. "If I hear that you’ve treated her like this again, you’ll regret it. I’ll make sure your career is over before it even starts. You’re a coward, hiding behind your position, but I’m not someone you want to cross. Do you understand?”
Lawson opened his mouth to protest, but the words stuck in his throat. There was something about the way Henry stood—something about the quiet, unyielding fury in his eyes—that made it clear there would be no second chance.
“Good,” Henry muttered before turning on his heel, leaving the teacher to process the very real threat that had just been delivered.
Matthew was in the school courtyard, hanging out with a few friends, laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But the moment Henry’s shadow fell over him, the laughter stopped.
The group of students looked up, eyes widening as they recognized who was standing there. Matthew’s smile faltered, and he slowly stood, clearly trying to maintain some sense of bravado. “Hey, what’s the big idea, old man?” he sneered, crossing his arms.
Henry didn’t speak at first. He just stared at Matthew, his gaze sharp, predatory.
“You’ve been picking on my daughter,” Henry said, his voice calm, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.
Matthew laughed nervously, trying to shrug it off. “She’s just a freak, man. She—”
Without a word, he grabbed Matthew by the neck, lifting him off the ground with a single, effortless motion.
Matthew’s hands shot up, clawing at Henry’s iron grip, but it was no use. Henry’s strength was crushing, and the panic in Matthew’s eyes only made Henry’s gaze darker.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Henry growled. His voice was like gravel, low and dangerous. “You ever lay a finger on her again, and I will make you regret it. I don’t care if you’re a kid or not. You hurt my family, and I’ll make sure you’ll never be the same. I will make you remember this moment every single day of your life.”
“You think you can hurt my daughter and get away with it?” Henry’s voice was a low growl, each word punctuated with the raw edge of fury. “You think you’re untouchable?”
Matthew’s face reddened as his air supply began to dwindle, his legs kicking in desperation. Henry’s hold tightened, and Matthew’s friends were frozen in fear, too terrified to intervene.
Henry leaned in closer, his voice cold and menacing. “You will leave her alone. I don’t care what you think of her, or how many other idiots join in with your pathetic little game. If I hear you’ve hurt her again, I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake you ever make. You’ll regret ever crossing me, and you’ll regret every day you ever thought you could get away with it.”
Matthew’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated with fear, but Henry wasn’t finished yet.
“You’re lucky I’m even letting you breathe right now,” Henry spat, his grip loosening just enough to let Matthew gasp for air. “Consider this a warning. A serious one.”
Matthew wheezed, his hands still trembling as he weakly pushed at Henry’s arm, trying to break free. But Henry wasn’t letting him go until he was absolutely certain the message had been received.
“Now, go,” Henry said, his tone sharper than before. “And stay away from my daughter. Or I’ll find you. And next time, I won’t be so generous.”
With a final, forceful shove, Henry released Matthew, dropping him to the ground in a heap. The bully scrambled backward, his face pale, eyes wide with terror, but Henry didn’t wait to see how he reacted. He simply turned, walking away with the same terrifying calm as when he had arrived.
The other students just stood there, utterly silent, too afraid to even breathe as Henry disappeared from sight.
When Henry returned home, his face was calm, but there was an undeniable intensity in his eyes. Bug noticed the moment he entered, his eyes narrowing slightly at the palpable tension in the air.
“Everything alright?” Bug asked, trying to read Henry’s expression, sensing something was off.
Henry didn’t answer immediately. He just stood there for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings of their home, before walking over to Bug, his eyes hard. “I talked to the teacher and Matthew,” he said quietly, as if weighing his words.
Bug’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. “Talked to them about what?”
Henry’s jaw tightened, and his voice dropped to a low, menacing tone. “I found out what’s been happening at school. They’ve been picking on Chaos. Both of them. I made sure they understood exactly what happens when someone hurts my kids.”
Bug’s eyes flickered with understanding, then narrowed in a protective anger. “You went to the school?”
“I went to them, yeah.” Henry’s gaze hardened. “I handled it. In my own way. No one touches her again, Bug. No one.”
Bug took a deep breath, clearly processing Henry’s words, the shock slowly settling into something more grounded. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Henry's method—his gut twisted at the thought of Henry confronting them like that—but he agreed, nobody would hurt either of their kids and get away with it.
“Did she know you did this?” Bug asked, his voice softer now, filled with concern for their daughter.
Henry’s gaze softened, just a little. “Not yet. But she will. We need to talk to her.”
The two of them found Chaos in her room, sitting quietly on her bed, staring out the window as though lost in thought. The sight of her—so small and fragile despite her strength—made Bug’s heart ache.
“Hey, kiddo,” Bug called gently, leaning against the doorframe. “Can we talk?”
Chaos turned, looking up at them with a weak smile. “Sure.”
Henry walked in first, his presence overwhelming despite his attempt to seem calm. He sat beside her, his voice steady but filled with an intensity that made her stomach twist. “Chaos, we know what’s been happening at school. We know about the teacher and Matthew. And we’re not okay with it.”
Chaos froze, her expression quickly shifting to one of confusion and nervousness. “You… you know?”
“We know,” Bug confirmed, walking over to sit beside them, his gaze softening as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “And we don’t want you to feel like you have to carry that alone. You don’t have to hide it from us.”
“Why didn’t you tell us, Chaos?” Henry’s voice was quieter now, less sharp but still filled with concern. “We’re your family. You can trust us. No one should be making you feel like that.”
Tears welled up in Chaos’s eyes, and she shook her head, trying to hold them back. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want anyone to worry. I can handle it.”
Henry’s gaze softened, and he gently placed a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to handle everything alone, kid. You’re never a burden to us, alright?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to—”
Bug pulled her into a hug before she could finish, holding her close. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re our family, Chaos. We love you, and we’re here for you. Always.”
Henry nodded, his voice firm. “No one gets to make you feel less than, Chaos. Not while I’m around. And if anyone tries, they’ll answer to me.”
Chaos looked up at him, her eyes still a little red, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You scared them, didn’t you?”
Henry gave her a small, but dangerous grin. “I made sure they understood exactly what happens when someone messes with my family.”
Bug chuckled softly, his hand still on Chaos’s back. “He’s not kidding. But we’re not mad, Chaos. We just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t have to go through anything alone anymore.”
Chaos nodded, the weight in her chest lifting just a little as she leaned into their embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Henry nodded, his tone now gentle. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re my kid. I protect what’s mine.”
The house was quiet that night, except for the hushed voices of five very determined siblings.
Chaos was asleep—exhausted, emotionally drained, curled up with her teddy bear in her arms. But the others? They were wide awake, gathered in the dim glow of the kitchen, their expressions set with grim determination.
“She didn’t tell us,” Crab muttered, arms crossed, pacing back and forth. “She didn’t tell us. How long has this been happening?”
“Too long,” Night said, his voice low. His fists were clenched on the table. “I knew something was off. I knew it. But I thought—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I should have asked more.”
“We all should have,” Pidge said. Their voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to it. “But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is making sure those kriffers don’t get away with it.”
Flicker leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “Alright. We need a plan.”
Vam grinned. “Oh, I have so many ideas.”
“Nothing that’ll get us expelled,” Crab warned, narrowing her eyes.
Vam scoffed. “Please, I know how to be subtle.”
Flicker snorted. “Do you?”
Vam ignored her and leaned in. “Alright, listen. We’re not just going to scare them—we’re going to make them suffer . Quietly. Carefully. But they will know they messed with the wrong family.”
Night nodded. “They made Chaos feel like she didn’t belong. I say we return the favor.”
Crab smirked. “Social exile?”
“Social destruction ,” Pidge corrected. “Rumors. Secrets. Matthew and his little pack think they’re untouchable, right? We prove them wrong.”
Flicker hummed. “We can make them turn on each other.”
“Oh, I love that,” Vam said, eyes gleaming.
“Little inconveniences, too,” Night added. “Books going missing. Homework mysteriously deleted. Shoes mysteriously glued to the floor.”
“Locker doors not opening,” Flicker said. “Or always opening when they don’t want them to.”
“Just enough to make their lives miserable,” Pidge agreed. “Nothing obvious. Nothing that can be pinned on us.”
“But they’ll know ,” Crab said, eyes dark. “They’ll know it’s because of what they did to Chaos.”
There was a long silence as they looked at each other, nodding in agreement.
“Alright then,” Flicker finally said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s begin.”
Crab was the first to strike.
It started small. Rumors spreading about Matthew and his little gang. Stories that twisted and turned, shifting through the hallways like ghosts. Some were true—Crab was very good at finding dirt. Some were embellished just enough to make them believable. Either way, people started talking, and Matthew and his friends found themselves on the wrong side of public opinion fast.
Flicker was more subtle. The first time Matthew opened his locker to find his books rearranged in an unsettlingly perfect spiral, he brushed it off. The second time, his backpack was moved—despite the fact that he was sure he had left it in the classroom. Then came the whispers. At first, he thought it was just kids talking behind his back, but sometimes… sometimes they happened when no one was there. Just a soft breath of sound, too quiet to make out but just loud enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up.
Night wasn’t subtle at all.
He caught Matthew alone after school, walking home without his usual entourage. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. He simply stepped in front of him, short but imposing, and let the silence stretch.
“If you ever touch my sister again,” Night said, his voice soft, calm, and utterly terrifying, “they will never find you.”
Matthew ran.
Vam made sure he tripped over his own feet on the way.
Pidge delivered the final blow.
Social ruin was an art, and Pidge was an artist. With a few well-placed words, a couple of carefully manipulated conversations, suddenly Matthew and his friends weren’t just disliked. They were avoided. The tables they used to sit at were mysteriously occupied before they got there. The jokes they made fell flat. Even the teachers seemed to be watching them more closely, as if waiting for them to slip up.
By the end of the week, Matthew wasn’t laughing anymore.
By the end of the month, he was the one keeping his head down in the hallways, shoulders hunched, walking faster whenever he caught a glimpse of Chaos or her family.
Chaos never asked what they did. She didn’t have to.