Right at the exit of the Senate building, Harrington crawled through the door and continued crawling, with no one asking him to stand or pulling him up. Instead, four of Julius's bodyguards walked by his side, moving slowly as he kept crawling.Their hands were poised at their holstered handguns, and their gazes peered around, focusing on Harrington. In case there was a necessary spring of action, they were prepared to tackle it immediately.Similarly, reporters from different press houses and magazines surrounded Harrington, both in front and behind him, with their cameras capturing every move. Quick reporters were broadcasting live on television, which was being shown on all broadcasting networks, social media platforms, and even YouTube.“Reporting live from the Senate of Augustine University, Chicago. The newly removed Vice Chancellor Harrington has suddenly started crying like a little child and crawling on his feet like an animal. Why he is doing this, we do not know. But what w

Immediately, as if orchestrated all along, students charged at Harrington, rushing towards him like an angry mob and shouting at the top of their voices, resembling angry religious fanatics defending their God against perceived threats.Julius’s bodyguards, standing next to him, sprang into action. Four of them quickly formed a blockade to reach Harrington, while the other bodyguards nearer to actor Adrian moved forward, hindering the students' fast movement against Harrington.In the heat of this moment, the students could hear the sounds of police sirens, creating a haunting symphony echoing the discordant notes of unrest in the air. When they turned aside, they saw five police cars and a van.In this way, SWAT teams jumped down from the back of the black van, clad in sleek obsidian black tactical gear. Each member wore Kevlar vests, matte-black helmets, and darkened goggles that concealed their focused determination.As the SWAT teams moved towards the students, each student knew a

As if he could sense his presence, the old man suddenly paused. Slowly, like a man detecting a strange shadow following him, he turned his face to the right side. "Julius?" he shouted from a distance. At the sound of his voice, everyone in the queue whom he served turned their faces in the direction he called Julius’ name. "Julius?" each of them shouted excitedly as they spotted him. However, any claim that they were not confused would be a lie. “Why is he dressed so cleanly?” one of them thought. "It's been quite a while since he came here. Where has he been?" another said. "He is wearing a suit. This can't be Julius; he cannot afford something as expensive as that suit," someone remarked. "You can also see that the suit is customized. God! No! I hope this guy hasn't gone to steal it." *** “Julius!” the old man called again, leaving the customer in the queue and walking out of the van. As the old man walked quickly towards Julius, he could not believe his eyes at how new and

Arriving at the bridge, which stood as a relic of forgotten times, Mr. Turner parked the car under the bridge and stepped out of it, opening the door for Julius, then immediately bowing.As Julius emerged from the cocoon of his luxurious car, he saw that the walls of the bridge bore scars of neglect. Its surface was cracked and weathered from years of exposure to the elements. He also noticed how moss and ivy crept along its edges, weaving a tapestry of greenery that contrasted with the dull gray of the concrete.Beyond their car, underneath the bridge, Julius saw a truck with its paint completely peeled off. It was so peeled off that he could tell that its once vibrant paint was now a patchwork of rust and faded hues.Similarly, Julius observed how its metal was poked with dents and scratches, bearing the scars of countless journeys and years of neglect.However, if the truck appeared neglected, it was a deception. Right at that moment, Julius saw the truck driver’s side open, and st

"If you are just joining us on this Twitter space, this is a space where we talk about the poorest guy on campus and what they are doing to elevate themselves from their poverty. So, make sure to like and subscribe to this space, and you can enjoy all our takes and banter.""Please note that this is not to oppress anyone but to show love and compassion about our subject matter. If you are being discussed and you feel hurt by it, you may get in front of a moving train and let it crush you to death. No one cares!"The moment she introduced her Twitter space, while still holding the device and pointing it towards her room, ex-Ranger Jackson picked up his hot dog roll and took a slow bite on it.The instant he took one bite, he placed it down again gently on the front seat chair and instantly took his phone, scrolled to Twitter, and searched "The Punk Poorest Guy on Campus."Searching the name and finally seeing the space, he tapped his finger on the button that reads, "join Space now," l