As I run to God knows where, I can hear them from behind me, "Hey, get back here!"

My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I race across the concrete walkway. The strap of my heavy bag slaps against my heaving chest, urging me to keep pushing forward. My worn sneakers pound the manicured grass of the front lawn as I make for the chain link gate to freedom. Just ahead, parents in minivans and SUVs idle at the curb, eyeing me curiously while waiting to whisk younger kids home. If I can just get a few more feet ahead while on school property, maybe I can outrun them once off campus.

Passing through the gate at last, I darted around a stopped sedan and bound onto the sidewalk lining Sycamore Street, the neighborhood houses just across the way. I risk a quick peek back and stumble. They’re maybe fifty yards back now, having gained ground already! I spot one of their angry visages leading the pack as they shove oblivious kids aside in their relentless pursuit, their faces scarlet and contorted. Trying not to panic, I dash across quiet Sycamore then cut through the cluttered yard of a little green ranch house, leaping over the faded name etched into the curb.

Got to keep moving!

I sprint behind the raised ranch across the street, lungs searing now, each gasp like sucking in flames. No help back here - it’s just me versus them in this race through endless starter castles and their postage stamp yards.

Suddenly the sidewalk looms ahead again. I take the corner hard, almost losing my footing on the well-trimmed lawn, and then I’m off down Hazel Lane, the echo of pounding feet drawing nearer. I blow through another intersection, bare trees, and swing sets flashing by my peripheral vision, my focus narrowed to each sidewalk square stretching ahead through endless sub developments.

Soon I’m completely turned around with no clue how to escape this labyrinth prison. Still, they come though, herding me farther into unfamiliar territory. I strain to suck oxygen from the warm summer air but my strides are faltering now. I stagger past the entrance sign for Pioneer Acres development, littered with tricycles and plastic playsets. Just a little farther, I pray, as I make for the only visible landmark ahead - the neighborhood park rising gently above the rooftops.

I scramble up the gentle slope of Pioneer Park, my shoes slipping on a carpet of fallen leaves, no longer crisp but damp and matted now after recent rains. My chest heaves and my vision starts to narrow as I attempt the short steep section past the picnic tables to the crest of the hill.

Got to keep going!

Reaching the top at last, I dash along the running path that circles the perimeter, past oak, and maple trees extending weary bare branches in the late fall afternoon. I startle a flock of pigeons erupting from the cover of a picnic shelter, their sudden flight mirroring my own panicked rush to escape. Risking a glance back, I see my pursuers labor up the same incline, faces still fixed in fury. I blow past kids dangling from monkey bars and mothers bundling their young ones back into strollers to retreat from the coming rain.

The trail curves down now past the basketball courts. I have a fleeting glimpse of kids, their sweat visible in the warm summer heat as they jostle and joke, the metallic thump of the ball echoing from the backboard and chain net. How I wish I was safely among them right now instead of relying on my deteriorating muscles and stagnant lungs to somehow spirit me to safety. But no options left except forward. I pass a leaf-choked water fountain without a glance and then I'm into the trees again. Through the barren branches, I can see my destination, my refuge, my seeming salvation - the alley gaping darkly behind the adjacent row of homes. If I can slip in there, a chance perhaps to lose my hunters in that shadowy, unfamiliar terrain.

With nearly the last of my energy, I sprint from the semi-circle of nature and back onto the boiling asphalt ribbon of humanity's domain - sidewalks and streets, orderly plots with satellite dishes sprouting amid dormant flower beds. The thunder at my back propels me across one final lawn and then suddenly.

And just my luck it finally began to rain. Whether or not I managed to lose them is still to be decided. Regardless, I got a decent amount of distance between me and the other three. My lungs are fighting for their life right now. I can't recall the last time I have ever run for so long, with the added weight of my backpack to boot.

Suddenly, I see one of my pursuers approaching me from the right, cutting me off just out of arms reach. Without hesitating, I turn left, irritated at the fact that I was starting to get my hopes up. How did they catch up? There's no way they could have managed to know where I was going after putting so much distance between us. I lurch forward at the sudden halt of my shoulders as he grabs me by my pack and pulls me to the side of what seems to be another alleyway that diverges from the original that I was running through. His strength surprised me, he basically lifted me off my feet, throwing me deeper into the alley.

The chase has been relentless, and I've been running on pure adrenaline. As I struggle to catch my breath, I realize that this might be the end of the line. The tall buildings on either side of the alley cast long shadows, and the dim light only adds to the tension. I press myself against the wall, trying to create some distance between me and the figure that has me cornered.

Damn it…

As I look at my options they are, as expected, not in my favor in the slightest. Looking around it's, well, an alley. Brick walls and trash bins to my left and right. Concrete floor with puddles forming beneath my feet. Utterly exhausted, breathing heavily, look up to see an ugly dude staring at me with... blood running down the side of his head fuming with rage. Yeah, that sounds about right. It would be the guy I hit. He looks like a Nathan, you sir I now dub, Nathan, because I don't know your name.

I turn around to see a very nice wall solidifying the fact that I am cornered. I twist my body around looking at my potential character development towards my villain arc. "Hey there, umm, you wouldn't happen to have dragged me here to talk about my car's extended warranty now would you?"

What am I doing?

He did not like that in the slightest, the last 2 pursuers had just arrived as he bit back, "You threw 2 rocks at my head, do you think I'm here for a fucking car?" His New Jersey accent was thick. I take it back, you are no longer Nathan, you are Tony.

"Hey, I'd be mad too if someone wearing a TMNT shirt decided to play David and Goliath with me too. Trust me I feel you buddy."

The one to Tony's left then speaks, "Are you trying to make this shit get worse for you?" Oh, we have a diverse set of accents already, this guy has a southern draw. You are now known as Bill.

Raising my hands I respond, "Hey man I don't have anything for you to play monkey in the middle with, or a tree for you to-"

Cutting me off the one on the right spoke to Tony, "Hey, put your bind back on. If the A.A. catches you taking it off then you'll have to go through a re-education and re-evaluation just to get another chance. That's IF they let it slide." Aw man, way to break the streak. Another New Jersey accent, I'll call you Mateo.

Ah wait, that's not important, he has a bind.

Tony reached into his pocket, and I watched with rapt attention as he retrieved the bind. The jewel embedded in its center caught the faintest glimmer of light. With careful precision, he slid the cuff onto his wrist, the jewel shimmering as it settled into place. The intricate patterns etched into the metal seemed to come alive, then began reforming itself. The metal shrinking and fitting to his wrist perfectly. As it settled it's new size the jewel at the center gave a faint glow. He flicks his wrist a few times clearly not comfortable with what the bind had just done after it began to glow.

This is when I get a good look at my three pursuers. The one to Tony's right, whom I dubbed Mateo, stands confidently with sharp eyes glinting under his hood. His slender frame and lack of muscle give him a bookish appearance. He wears fitted brown pants tucked into fancy leather boots and a pristine white shirt embroidered with the insignia of the Ascendants Association on the breast.

Then we have Tony himself, wearing an unsettling grin that doesn't suit his already repulsive looks. I mean, it might sound like I'm being an asshole, but I'm serious. His seemingly friendly smile masks any trace of mercy. While slim and agile like the first, I can now see the cold calculation in his icy blue eyes. He sports loose cotton trousers and a simple cloth vest over a lace-trimmed shirt. On the vest is an intricately stitched emblem marking him as a member of a family sect I don't recognize. I would also assume he has an Ascendants Association badge or emblem somewhere, but family sect etiquette dictates that one should wear their family name proudly unless it's part of a uniform. He probably has a superiority complex or an ego the size of Mars.

My gaze finally falls upon Bill, a willowy guy with golden braids incongruously falling across his shoulders. His delicate features twist into a scowl as he notices my gaze on him. Though girlishly pretty, menace exudes from his proud stance. Likely no older than fourteen himself, he seems eager to do me harm. He wears fitted green pants tucked into tall black boots, along with a cream tunic accented by a short blue leather vest bearing the crest of the Fair Visages, which I do recognize. Actually, it's kind of off-putting the fact that he has a southern draw and looks like that. His voice is relatively deep too. If you put him in a maid outfit and have him serve tea, you could get a good amount of views recording people's reactions when he speaks to them. Seeing a trap throw someone for a loop is always a good laugh. I could go on about the possibilities, but I digress.

"Relax, my dad has connections. So I don't have to worry about having it off for too long just so I could get ahead of you all to cut him off." He winced and looked over the bind. "Although I'd rather not have this on at all. It feels uncomfortable to have it drain me."

Bill spoke, "We have to, until we get proper aura training we can't take them off. Meaning we either attend an academy for training or get certified through the A.A after getting training by our own means. They said this during orientation. Besides at least you can take yours off."

"That's kind of true, I can't really use it to hurt this asshole. They find any hint of aura residue on his injuries that's a one way ticket to visit the Sentinels."

Bill tsk'd, "Fuck, you're right."

Tony then spoke to me, "You must be having the time of your life huh?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Hm? Oh!" What in the... what is wrong with me? During their conversation at some point, I took off my pack and sat on it resting my chin in my hand like I was waiting on them to finish.

Mateo then spoke up, "You're both getting off topic and we have this clown here making us look like fools by sitting waiting as if we're the ones wasting his time."

Ah man, I guess time is up.

I knew at that moment that this was it. I have to endure. At the same time, I'm trying to come up with excuses for my parents. If I show up bloodied and bruised my mom will bring down the fury of the heavens. She will hunt these guys down and force their distinguished families to prostrate themselves in apology. Under normal circumstances, I would be okay with this. However, these guys clearly have good backing. So if my mom or dad decided to take it upon themselves to resolve this, they'd only find themselves in more trouble with their families.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Tony and Bill then turned their heads to stare me down. All three of them locked on to me, clear malice in their gaze. I get goosebumps as I watch them approach me and they begin taking off anything they don't want blood on, knowing that it has all come to this. I can stand my ground and try to fight back, or accept my fate and submit. My heartbeat pounds as they surround me.

Thump-thump, thump-thump. Fear? Anticipation? Both flood my system with adrenaline.

Everything slowed down as I watched Tony's fist cut through the air and aimed directly at my right cheek. Tony's shoulder turned first, cocking his left arm back behind his head, elbow raised high. His left foot pivoted to add torque to the blow while his right foot stepped forward, planting solidly. I swear I could see the rippling of every muscle fiber in Tony's shoulder and bicep as his coiling arm sprang forward like a viper. Tony's fingers curled into a hardened fist split seconds before it would smash into my right jawline.

Tony's bunched knuckles lead the strike, the bones of his wrist and forearm lining up behind like a spear thrust. His wrists aligned for maximum power, thumb locked rigidly outside his tight fingers. Eyes glaring down the length of his swinging limb directly into mine, elbow staying tucked. Everything in his knotted arm channeled forward toward the four knuckles blistering towards vulnerable flesh on my right cheek. His fist lands with a meaty smack, causing me to tumble back a few steps tripping over my backpack. Pain explodes through my jaw, rattling my skull. Wow, after one hit I'm already on the ground. My head is already rattled from the one punch. Although I kept losing my footing I managed to get up again. There is no way I'm going to stay down.

Everything happened too quick as Mateo's wild haymaker of a punch careened towards my midsection. Mateo turned his torso awkwardly, overextending his shoulder as his bent right arm flailed forward with no guard up. I watched Mateo's feet fumble for balance, left foot scraping across the ground instead of providing a solid base to drive from.

Mateo's fingers splay haphazardly instead of welding together in a hard fist, robbing the blow of concentrated impact. His amateurishly dangling wrist makes him unable to stack power behind the knuckles. Without pivoting his mass properly, Mateo's bicep and lats can barely accelerate the clumsy swing barreling for my stomach. Tracking the gangly limb thrust wildly, no technique or finesse guides the blow, only adrenaline and fear. Not a shred of technique in his form. Just flailing, off-target violence divorced from the art form's sacred geometry. As his fist makes an impact on my stomach knocking the air out of me he loses his balance taking a few steps to the side to rebalance himself.

Bill then takes this opportunity to get in a hit of his own. All movement decelerated to freeze frame as he hammered his leg at my unprotected ribs. His torso turned forcefully first, rotating at the waist while his left arm raised for counterbalance. He pivoted his hip strongly as his right foot planted with a twist and driving push downward. I take in every fiber of lean muscle wrapping around his thigh and calf - from quadriceps to crunched hamstring now springing open like a piston. His toes point back with toes aimed like daggers for maximum penetration, starting a devastating arc toward my side. The heavy sole of his boot cutting through space as his weight shifts behind the driving momentum of his hip and angled leg. His eyes blaze at the point of contact as his tucked knee guides his mid swing shin and calf on a collision course with my ribs.

I witnessed the soon-to-be-ruined architecture of my battered ribcage highlighted from the burning path of direction. Hip torque, knee drive, ankle locked - all force vectors beautifully synching into an eight pounds of airborne hardened leather bound for my open side. The art came not from the violence, but the perfection of human kinetics battering physics into a weaponized movement aimed at my vulnerable midsection. Fiery agony lances up my side as my ribs give an audible crack at the impact.

Thump-thump, thump-thump. Once again I felt my heart start pounding loudly.

All 3 of them throwing hit after hit. My eyes watch their movements as I instinctively cover my body from their attacks. Bill grabs the collar of my shirt and my left arm and throws me towards the back wall following up with another kick to my body. His boot slams against already broken ribs, the flare of pain causing my vision to white out for a split second. I crash hard into brick, clipping my head sharply. Blood trickles into one eye.

Leaning against the brick Tony then walks up to me grabbing my hair and lifting my head to look him in the eye. I stare right back at him to see his face, a smirk grows on his lips as he cocks his fist and prepares for another right cross.

Thump-thump, thump-thump. My heart for a final time pounds through my chest threatening to claw its way out.

This feeling of being outmatched. In a situation outside of any advantage. Outnumbered 3 to 1—no way to defend myself. I don't understand this feeling I'm having. I haven't thrown a punch, yet I continue to stand. Watching every attack they throw with the utmost attention, analyzing every movement.

This feeling surges through me, an electric euphoria even as the one before me prepares another attack. Pain and danger warn me that I am outmatched, yet... my heart thunders with exhilaration. Everything plays through my mind like a time-lapse. Every detail from every move they hit me with plays in my head over and over again until-.

I see.

The edges of my lips begin to form a large grin. I make eye contact with Tony, my sight still hazy. I see him freeze for a moment, his form wavering after looking at me. Is it the smile? Actually, why am I smiling? This feeling I am having is making me unconsciously smile at my situation. Ha, and here I thought I didn't like pain. Perhaps I'm a masochist? No, that doesn't seem right. What is it truly?

As these thoughts go through my head I can hear one Mateo speak up, "He's smiling?" At that moment, Tony threw the punch. It felt as if time went still. Once again, everything that happened in this one-sided beatdown flashed through my memory. Everything. Their forms, their reach, technique, timing, and each of their individual strengths behind every hit. It was all locked in. Tony's punch approached my left cheek, my eyes following the blurry outline. My heart pounding as loud as ever, blood racing through my veins. I know where it's going to hit, he's going for my chin. Then, my body moves. I lean my head to the left and push my body along with it. Just enough to where his fist grazes my right cheek and collides with the brick wall behind me. Releasing me he backs up holding his hand. Bill looks at me quizzically as Mateo only spares me a glance as he goes over to Tony. He watches me as I continue to stand leaning against the wall. I begin to chuckle, and then a maniacal laugh takes over my subtle chuckle.

Bill finally spoke up, "I think we hit him too hard in the head." He began to slowly approach and adjusted his footing.

Left roundhouse.

My grin grows wider as I squat down watching his left foot fly over my head.

Ah, what precision. Not too far, nor too close.

I hear the skid of his boot against the brick. My eyes lock on to his. His eyes widened seeing his missed kick had made him vulnerable. So I took advantage of it. Utilizing my squatted position I leap toward him. Seeing me coming after him, he haphazardly lifts one of his arms in defense. But I'm not going after his head. I shoulder tackle him in the side launching him forward due to his lack of balance. He grunts as he hits the ground. Mateo and Tony look over at him as he rolls next to them. All of them look at me gathering themselves. They see me start laughing in a maniacal tone while I look up at the sky feeling the cool rain on my face.

I almost sound like I'm in pure bliss as I speak for the first time since it all began, "Haha, I see! I see now!" I watch the rain fall, feeling every drop land on my bruised face. "I can see it now. I see, everything!" Why was I speaking out loud you may ask? Who knows, I was just in the moment. My eyes slowly land back on my three pursuers. The ones who had hunted me down and cornered me in this nice secluded spot.

"Ah, there it is." My mind then plays out every scenario. Telling me what to do for whoever decides to make the first move. It is an overwhelming feeling but I know that it will clear up once I see at least one of them move. However, no one moves. They shift back and forth looking uncomfortable.

Huh? No come on, don't tease me like this. Don't back down now. You should think that you all have the upper hand.

I raise both my hands in irritation, "What's going on guys, things are barely getting interesting. Don't kill the mood. Where's the arrogance? The passion? The aggression?" I point to Tony, "Tony my man, what happened, if you're already out for the count that's a pretty embarrassing way to do it. Punching this poor brick wall." I turn to it and gently stroke my hand over it. "He was on your side more than mine so I think the violence against him was unnecessary."

Tony leaned over to Bill, "Do we know him?"

Bill responded, "No, never met him before. What do you mean?"

"How did he know my name was Tony?"

My eyes lit up, "AH HA, I knew you were a Tony!" I pat myself on the head. "No I've never met you, or Bill here."

Bill looked at me in surprise, "H-how did you-"

I pumped my fist, "Fuck yeah! Mateo, I'm telling you man I'm good at this."

Mateo looked at me quizzically and then around the area. After seeing that I was talking to him he spoke, "Um, my name is Cody."

I fell to my knees and fell over on all fours looking at the ground in pure despair. "No... it can't be. Why. Why would you do this to me Mateo."

"I-it's Cody-"

"Shut it Mateo, I've had enough disappointment for one day! First you break the diverse accents, then you have no fighting skills whatsoever, and now you reject your own name."

"I'm telling you my name is-"

I yell in outrage slamming my fist to the ground, "YOU HAVE NO FINESSE YOU DAMN SIMPLETON!"

Mateo who thinks his name is "Cody" just stared at me in disbelief. "W-why does this hurt my feelings?"

"Rejoice Mateo, for now you will remember this day. The day you disappointed me beyond belief. Use this to reflect on your actions."

"But-"

"No, I don't want to hear it. Be. Better."

I swear I could see a tear begin to glisten in his eye. Tony and Bill look back and forth between us. They looked at Mateo with sympathy. Tony shook his head and then smacked Mateo on his shoulder with his good hand. "The fuck are you doing? He's just one guy. Why are we hesitating."

My smile returned, upon hearing this. I got back to my feet. "Yes, yes now you've got it."

Mateo wipes his eyes and then glares at me. All three once again ready to pummel me. My heart begins to pound once more. I have definitely awakened something within me. The thrill of a fight. A fight that has all odds stacked against me. Mateo steps forward to make the first move. Honestly, I'm kind of disappointed but it was expected he would come after me first since I degraded him.

He steps forward and reels back for a punch.

Oh? I see a little improvement.

However, the improvement means nothing considering he's not close enough. I lean my head back a little and his punch stops before reaching me.

I sighed in disappointment, "You see?" I grab him by the wrist and pull him toward me. "No…" I lift my leg to the side and trip him as he moves past me. "...Finesse." He lands face-first into the brick wall.

Bill then moves in. I turn to him and my wide grin returns. He gets into a stance as I quickly close the distance. He puts one foot forward and raises his hands up, giving a subtle hop on each foot. Time slows as I analyze his movements. Once again I see his torso turned forcefully first, rotating at the waist while his left arm raised for counterbalance. He pivoted his hip strongly as his right foot planted with a twist and driving push downward. I watch as his toes point back at me aimed like daggers for full penetration, starting its arc toward my side.

I have seen this before~

I stop just outside his range. His boot wisps past my shirt. He notices me stopping and then moves closer to hit me with a spinning back kick. I twist my body to the side dodging his attack. Once again he closes the distance just a little more. He lifts his leg up high and goes for an axe kick directly above me. I step to the side narrowly dodging his falling boot as his heel slams into the pavement.

Tony then steps in, throwing a left straight. I lean my head back avoiding his fist. He then throws two jabs. Both just missing me by an inch. He then throws a right-body uppercut. This one surprised me because I thought he had broken his fist. I continue to avoid all of their attacks as Mateo starts to recover, his nose bleeding and eyebrow scraped. He joins in on the barrage of attacks I continue to avoid. Although they are mistaking one thing. I'm not just avoiding the attacks, I'm learning. Consuming them. Not too soon after, they begin to start breathing a little heavier. I'm just as exhausted but the adrenaline is keeping me going as if I didn't need to breathe at all. Soon after they pause on their attacks looking at each other. Tony nods his head over to Mateo signaling him to circle around me. Bill picks up on this and he does the same. Meanwhile I on the other hand take a deep breath in.

After drinking in every attack, I analyzed each motion and predicted the angles of contact. My heart was hammering louder with each repeated attack. Each of their forms had slowed into defined snapshots for me to look over as if to try it out for myself.

You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea.