People yelled out in surprise as he passed by, while others stared as he ran like a maniac towards his class—and on a Monday morning no less.
Coming at five feet seven, wearing a leather jacket, a shirt depicting his favorite electronic band, and jeans with a belt buckle of an All-Seeing-Eye inside a triangle which he’d gotten at a Tomb Raider expo, students had a hard time processing the fact that Nick Solomon was in fact a professor of archeology and history at Trinity.
On this particular day he had even chosen to keep his sunglasses indoors; not due to some fashion statement, but because he knew his eyes would implode if he dared take them off.
“Bad day for a hangover.”
It wasn’t the worst one he’d had. Compared to last month’s underground rave and the excruciating morning afterwards, this one was quite mild.
Professor Solomon had always gone the extra mile in showing that he did not abide by the rules.
If this had been any other member of the staff, they would have been kicked out as soon as the paperwork permitted, but he was Nick-freaking-Solomon.
He was shot to fame when he was just a doctoral candidate, after a discovery which started off as an expedition inside an ancient medieval burial site, but ended up in the discovery of a long lost city, where Nick stumbled upon the tomb of a certain monarch which centuries later would inspire the legend of King Arthur. Money and attention followed soon after, but Nick’s true love was in the adventure and mystery.
But discoveries like his were rare and every other expedition he went on yielded nothing.
Slowly he began falling into a depression, and in an effort to regain some control over his life, Nick sold all of his fancy possessions and moved into a small apartment, much like the one he lived in during his college years. He even went back to school, this time as a teacher, when not authenticating relics for museums on the side.
Given his age, fame, and charm, his classes had become increasingly popular over the years. Professor Solomon was perhaps not the best teacher around, but he taught with the upbeat charisma of a jazz musician. He told stories, jokes, and recounted adventures, some of which he asked the students never to repeat outside of the classroom walls.
In short, Professor Nick Solomon was making the best he could out of his life, all the while searching for his next big adventure.
“Rough night, Teach?”
Tyrone Wilson sat at his teacher’s desk with his usual smirk. As soon as Nick came in sight, Tyrone handed him a coffee cup and a folder of paper. Nick took a sip of coffee, freshly brewed from his favorite diner three blocks down, and slowly regained his ability to form coherent thoughts.
“Never, ever try to pick up twins at the same time,” he moaned.
Tyrone’s eyebrows shot up, trying his best to hide his smirk.
“It sounds like a good idea on paper,” Nick continued, “but in reality, it’s just twice the work. Which means twice the booze.”
Tyrone shook his head. “That’s why I stick to one girl at a time,” he said condescendingly.
“Probably a good idea,” Nick replied. “I got up to twelve Jagers before I gave up. And I’m pretty sure they couldn’t take a hint.”
“Maybe you just getting’ too old, Teach.”
Nick Solomon, aged thirty two, gave him a dark look. “Say that again and the next gravesite we visit will be yours.”
Tyrone held his hands up in mock surrender and both men burst out laughing. This was normal banter between them: they were colleagues and, more importantly, friends. Solomon saw in Tyrone the same fire he himself had when he first discovered the wonders of the past. And Nick needed to be around that passion to remind himself that he wasn’t alone—that he needed to work harder, not just for himself but for his students as well.
A few minutes and two cups of coffee later, Nick burst into the classroom with his usual swagger. The students were still