I tried to be the pioneer in potens

experimentation, hence my scales.

Yet, a brilliant young girl surpassed

me, and I gotta say, it was for the better.

      -Richard J. Richter, from the Colorado University

Laura threw a right hook. She then made herself lighter and threw a roundhouse kick. Her foot impacted the right side of her target. The punching bag flew to her left, making the chain attached to tighten whilst resisting not to break.

Laura knelt before throwing an uppercut, striking the punching bag as it came back. It quickly ascended, making the chain tinkle before breaking into tiny pieces that showered around her.

She stopped. Partially because she was out of air, partially because she didn’t have a punching bag anymore. Laura then cleaned the sweat in her forehead.

It had been a nice sesion. Her whole body was glistening. And despite what it was telling her, she wanted to keep going. Although it would be somewhat difficult with the broken punching bag. There were the atlas’ ones… But they hurt her knuckles so much, even with gloves.

Laura grabbed the towel on the floor and looked around the training zone. She was currently on the sixtieth floor of Ataki Tower. The enormous building had various floors dedicated to training equipment and facilities. Five in total. Laura was at the second highest of the workout zones.

The training room was circular, having a red tiled floor with several exercise machines at the outsides of the chamber while a ring stood on the center. It was a standard boxing ring with black and white ropes around.

And a pair of people were using it at the moment.

Phase passed through Friction’s body. The quiet hero then turned around and grabbed Friction in a chokehold from behind him. Friction resisted for a moment before slipping out of it, his white clothes flowing behind him while he created distance between them. He then got up and charged towards Phase.

His black and blue figure stood there. The blue lenses in his black mask locked on Friction. Phase then tightened his right gloved hand.

Friction was almost onto him when Phase threw a punch without regarding one bit about defense. His leather black fist reached Friction’s face, but instead of striking it, his punch seemed to slip pass through. Phase had accounted for that. He would normally phase his whole chest and abdomen to avoid enemy strikes.

What he hadn’t accounted for was for Friction to tackle his legs. He was thrown into the ground just as Friction kicked his body, smacking him downwards. Phase tried to get up, but he instead began to writhe in pain before tapping on the mat.

Friction took his foot off of him and offered him a hand.

“Fuck,” Phase said just as he grabbed it, gasping for air. “That really hurt. What did you do?”

“Sorry, I’m still working on it. But, basically, I’m increasing the friction of air… Against air. It’s kinda difficult so I have to find a way around making it easier and more efficient.”

“Looked quite efficient to me,” Phase said, rubbing his neck.

Friction laughed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The conversation between Phase and Friction became weaker as Laura left the training zone.

Although the sixtieth floor was mainly dominated by it, the flat wasn’t only composed of it. The floor was divided into three sections. There was the training zone, where she had been, covering the center and most of the round floor, being the biggest of the three. The layer next to it was the lockers, where she was heading. And the outer layer, were the halls to access the lockers, the training zone, and the floor as a whole.

Laura opened the door to the female locker room. She saw nobody in. Huh, she thought she had seen Tempest nearby. Maybe she had confused the costumed figure.

It was hard to tell sometimes.

There were some heroes who put a lot of effort into making their suits stylish and unique. Or at least tried to make them ‘different.’ Others… Not so much.

Many heroes opted for letting the company make their suits, aesthetic included. One that seemed surprisingly repetitive. Boots, gloves, an overall made out of spandex or something harder, and a mask that covered almost the entirety of the face except for the mouth, having two colored lenses for eyes. Which was fine, but… She had seen costumes as something much more… Special? Sacred, even?

Despite her past feelings, she couldn’t talk about having a costume and style of her own creation. Her current one had been completely manufactured by Armada, who was known to do whatever he wanted when making a costume. Now that she was thinking about it, they might have lost that spark that made them so particular. After three years working as a professional hero, they were tools more than anything. Pleasing to the eyes, but tools nonetheless.

Laura opened her locker and grabbed her changes of clothes. She was wearing a sports top with some red shorts. Her costume might have stopped a van, but she would probably patrol in those clothes if they let her. They were so smooth.

She left her clean ones on the bench covering the middle section of the locker room.

After taking her clothes off, Laura took a quick shower to get rid of the sweat and the smell. Ludwig was discharged today and she didn’t want to ruin it with her stinking…

The poor man. Why him of all people? Hadn’t he suffered enough already…?

Laura tightened her fist.

Yes he had. She would make sure to protect him. That’s why she became a hero. To protect her family. She might have failed once… But she wouldn’t let it happen again. Gravity would…

A phone began ringing.

Laura looked inside her locker and saw a name on her phone’s screen. Marieh.

She grabbed the phone, water still dripping from her body, and answered it.

“Yes?” Laura asked.

“Hi, dear. How’s everything been lately?” Her voice sounded cheerful, and had that usual insufferable tone.

“Good. Let’s leave it at that. Why did you call?”

“Well, I called to talk about your schedules.”

“I also wanted to talk to you about them.”

“Oh?”

“I was wondering if you could increase the number of patrols near the east side of-”

“I’m afraid not,” Marieh said, still in a friendly tone of her’s.

“Why?” Laura asked, more angry than curious.

“Well, the Administration Team thinks other heroes need more patrols. Get them in the streets, you know? But they also don’t want a lot of them out there. They don’t want to alarm the citizens with an overflow of CP’s.”

“CP’s?”

“Oh, sorry,” Marieh said, surprised by what she had said. “Manager jargon. It basically means heroes. And by the way. About your schedules, a good chunk of your patrols are going to be changed. You’ll be having more PR sessions and stuff like that.”

“What?” Laura inquired, incapable of hiding her indignation.

“Remember that thing I just told you about avoiding an overflow of heroes? If some heroes get into the streets, others then have to leave. It will just be for two or three months, so you don’t have to worry about it too much. Besides, how long has it been since you got a rest, girl?”

It was happening again. Her being thrown and bossed around like a puppet. And that condescending voice of her’s

Calm down.

“Look,” Laura said, trying to contain her anger, almost failing at it. “I understand what you’re saying, but I want to be in the streets. I want to-”

“Hun’,” Marieh said, now devoid of any emotion but still with her annoying tone. “I was trying to be nice. I really don’t care what you want. Nor do the higher ups. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you how it is. And if you’re angry about it, blame that contract you signed. Are we clear?”

The contract.

How could a piece of paper feel like sometimes as a miracle, and others as her own damnation.

Laura sighed.

“Yes.”

“Great,” Marieh said, back with her cheery tone. “You’ll be starting your new schedule in a couple of hours. Better get ready!”

She then hung up.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Laura looked at the screen of her phone before throwing it among her other things. Those devices were too expensive to willingly break them.

That’s why she punched a hole through her locker.

—-----

Ludwig was putting on his T-shirt.

He was wearing some of the clothes he had bought a couple of days ago. A red T-shirt, black jeans with a gray belt, and black casual shoes. They still had some of the smell from the drain canal…

The beast inside managed to retain those memories away from his mind.

Ludwig then grabbed the rest of his belongings from the night table next to the bed. He had been discharged a couple of minutes before.

And staying wasn’t bringing any good memories. In fact, it wasn’t bringing any memories. Things that happen when you’re fifteen years in a coma.

He left the room and began walking down the hall to his right.

“Oh. I thought you would still be eating.”

Ludwig stopped. He then turned around to see someone who he didn’t expect.

“Guess you wanted to leave as soon as possible,” Professor Collman said. “Understandable.”

“What are you doing here?” Ludwig asked, surprised.

His voice had a normal tone because… Why shouldn’t it? He was fine. He wasn’t miserable.

The beast inside growled in agreement.

“Laura called me. She told me she couldn’t come pick you up and asked me if I could. Do you want to grab a coffee?” Professor Collman asked, pointing behind him. “Wait, you do not drink coffee. Maybe an iced tea, or something else? We can talk over some of the books you bought the other day, if you want. It’s been a while since the last time."

Professor Collman was a good man, a true friend, and an excellent teacher.

He had a wide smile that accompanied his clean beard and gray combed hair, irradiating charisma as he stood in a relaxed posture. Time hadn’t been able to take it away. He still had that same mischievous smile, projecting that happiness…

“Sorry. I want to be alone for a bit,” Ludwig said as he turned to his right.

Too bad the beast inside disagreed.

“Wha- But, where are you going then?” Professor Collman inquired, concerned.

“I dunno. Walk around. Maybe visit the forest near home or go to a park.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just… Want to be alone.”

“Ludwig,” Professor Collman then said as he took a step forward. “If you want to talk about it, we can. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. I’m here for you. I can help.”

Ludwig looked the professor in the eyes, but regretted what he saw.

Pitty.

He then looked down at the ground.

(Stop it…)

“I’m fine. I just need a moment with my thoughts.”

"I don't want to leave you alone, Ludwig. Your father's death-"

Another swing struck Ludwig. When was he going to properlly mourne his death? Was he simply going to ignore it? Did he mean nothing to him?

"- was very hard for me as well. I can help," Professor Collman said with a warm tenderness.

Ludwig sighed, then got a gulp of air before looking at his face.

"I have to keep moving for a bit. Don't worry, it will come," he said, to both himself and Professor Collman. "And when it does, I'll call you, ok?"

“I’ll call you later. Maybe we can go for a drink this week. How about Friday?”

Professor Collman put up a slight smile.

A fake one.

“Ok. I'll be waiting.”

Ludwig then turned around and continued his way, reaching a pair of stairs.

(You shouldn’t lie,) Wagner reverberated while they went down.

“I’m just trying to maintain his emotional health,” Ludwig whispered.

(Ah. I understand now.)

It was surprising how naive Wagner could be sometimes.

Ludwig reached the end of the stairs and found himself on the first floor, next to the main entrance. The space between it and the counter was covered by a large amount of seated people. Ludwig gave them a quick glance but continued his way. approaching the entrance.

Just as a sea of emotions struck him.

Pain. Confusion. Fear. Anxiety. Anger. Sadness. Joy.

He had to reach for the closest wall to try and not to fall, due to the immediacy and the surprise provoked by the ‘feeling’.

“Wha- What’s happening?” Ludwig asked with a hand in his head, starting to feel dizzy.

(It seems you're suffering from an overflow,) Wagner pointed out.

Ludwig was hit by a wave of fear, making his body shiver. He then was hit with a burning pain that made his legs tremble, almost falling, followed by a flood of sadness that made him burst into tears as he hugged his arms.

“Can you… Can you stop it?” Ludwig asked sniffing and with a runny nose.

(I’ve experienced these emotions before. Let me see…)

The streams of different emotions began to fade, returning him to normal. Ludwig then got out of the hospital as quickly as possible, fearing another attack.

He stopped at the sidewalk next to the street, bending down and only focusing on breathing, trying to calm his pounding heart.

(It seems that your emotional state is stabilizing quicker than expected.)

“Really? Because it doesn’t feel like it,” Ludwig said, still gasping for air.

(Yes. I have them under control.)

Well, that was good to know. Still, despite Wagner’s words, Ludwig had some doubts about the ‘feeling’ thing. One of them being if it could make it possible for that not to repeat again.

Never.

“Hey, Wagner,” Ludwig said, finally getting his breathing under control. “I’m curious about that ‘feeling’ thingy. Do you have like… Absolute control over it?”

(Although I can manipulate it to a certain degree, it is impossible for me to control it perfectly.)

“Why’s that?”

(That ‘feeling thingy,’ as you call it, is related to my telepathy. And that is involuntary. It would be similar to the equivalent of humans breathing.)

“Does that mean that we’re never going to stop feeling what other people feel? Are we going to repeat that everytime we get into a crowd of people?” Ludwig asked, fear showing a little among the words.

(Not quite. It just means that we’ll receive a slight emotional influence from other people. Although I’ve observed that humans already do this subconsciously, so I don’t think that it will suppose a problem.)

“That just now wasn’t slight in the slightest.”

(That’s because I had let the… Path between minds fully open. I find it quite useful since they provide first hand information about emotions and emotional stability, which is quite scarce. But I will limit it if it threatens your emotional health.)

“Scarce?”

(Yes.)

…

(Oh, right. You’re asking about why it is scarce, correct?

“Yes.”

(Excellent,) Wagner reverberated in a happy tone. (Let’s just say… How to put it with words… I’m new with emotion.)

“New? Does that mean that you haven't felt emotion since recently?”

(Correct.)

“Hence, your insecurity with emotional health?”

(Precisely.)

Huh. Well, it was still doing better than most people. But why was that?

“Have you been living a lot without… Emotions?”

(No.)

“Then why did you say you were new with emotion?”

(Because you could say I’m new with living as well.)

…Well…

“How old are you?” Ludwig slowly said.

(A month and fourteen days old.)

“...You’re quite young.”

(Not as much as you think.)

Ludwig stood straight and began walking down the sidewalk. He was able to see a considerable number of people looking at him.

“Why are they looking at me?”

(I don’t know. You’re only talking to me… Do humans consider talking to the air weird?)

Ah.

(Think I’m gonna talk to you this way.)

Ludwig also began to speed up his walking.

(So, what’s the plan?) Ludwig then asked as he passed in front of the fusion restaurant next to the hospital.

(What plan?) Wagner reverberated.

(I mean, what are we going to do?)

(You said you wanted a moment with your thoughts.)

(Yes. We were going to think what to do.)

(About what?)

The beast inside growled.

(Ah. That burning emotion… I now understand.)

(I think we should get information about where she is,) Ludwig thought.

(Why?)

(Why?! That way we can get revenge!)

The beast inside howled. Impatient.

(I don’t think that is a good idea.)

(Why not?) Ludwig hurriedly thought.

(Our combat capabilities fall short in comparison with her’s. We most probably would die in a direct confrontation. Therefore, we would shorten our lifespan, which is the opposite of my objective, and would not accomplish yours.)

Ludwig was upset at the fact that Wagner was correct. The beast inside growled in disagreement.

(What do we do then?) Ludwig reluctantly thought.

(We should prepare.)

(How?)

(Training and research. We were only able to hurt her with a symbologist knife. We should investigate why that was. Also, we should try acquiring a similar weapon, but I doubt such weapons are common or ‘affordable’. I would also like to extend our options in a combat situation, as well as our physical aptitudes. As your body goes, I don’t think it is in optimal conditions. There’s also your inability with the ‘strings’…)

(Inability? I know how to use them-)

(You don’t,) Wagner reverberated. (Your maneuverability with them may be better than a couple of days ago thanks to me, but you haven’t mastered them. There’s something… More.)

(More?)

(I… Don’t know. I only have a vague feeling about it… But I don’t know what it is.)

(And why do you mean thanks to you? You gave me the threads but my ability is all mine.)

(Not entirely. We should discuss this later. Your heart rate is going up.)

Ludwig sighed.

This wasn’t going anywhere. He had to focus on something he knew would give results. But what would that be?

Ludwig looked around, trying to find inspiration in his surroundings. Something, something…

His eyes stopped on a poster glued to the glass of a coffee shop.

Learn Kickboxing.

Nº14 at Sting Street.

That could be useful.