The body had been discovered by some joggers early that morning before the sun was out. Apparently the smell had given it away before the sight of it did.
“Face recognition identifies her with a ‘Lisa Duffy’,” Carlos told Barber, his fellow detective. “16-year-old white female. She was reported missing after heading out to a friend’s house one evening. When her parents called her friend, they said that she never made to her place that night.”
A police drone hovered overhead while Carlos spoke, taking photos of Lisa from multiple angles. It was one of the several hovering about the area which were, along with human officers, looking for evidence. Police drones took photos of anything their programming deemed ‘out-of-the-usual’ and recorded everything in their visual while they were operable.
“Don’t really need much to determine the cause of death this time, do we Cornejo?” Barber rhetorically asked.
Lisa’s body had been lacerated heinously, with the cut across her neck being among the least severe.
“The cut around her neck; looks like it was inflicted early on,” Carlos concluded. “Probably the wound that took her.”
“You sure?”
“We’ll have to wait for the autopsy, but it looks to me like the killer didn’t want to torture her, just kill her. Everything after that was just him having fun with her body. What’s bothering me the most is… Well, you can see it too, can’t you, Rob?”
“’Course I can. Her body looks damn-near identical to all the others. Looks like we found the latest victim of the Rockies Ripper.”
The Rockies Ripper had been a serial killer terrorizing the Rockies Mountain region of the US for the past few years, leaving a trail of terribly mutilated bodies; all of them minors. After they left the crime scene, Barber was still ruminating upon the details of the case over coffee he and Carlos were having in their vehicle.
“This’ll be the third victim of his in Denver,” Barber said. “Crazy how after his trail went cold, he suddenly decided to start killing again. And he basically ‘got away with it’ too. No conclusive evidence was ever found about his identity. He was essentially a 21st Century Zodiac Killer.”
Carlos shrugged. “That’s the thrill of the kill for you – both the thrill of hunting and being hunted and knowing; or at least believing, that you’ll never get caught. Either way… We got one heinous killer loose in this city.”
“Don’t we already have a few? There are five murders in the past three weeks alone connected to syndicate activity. Sons of bitches aren’t even trying to hide what they’re doing anymore.”
“Gang members offing each other is nasty, but they leave the regular public alone so long as they keep their noses out of gang business. Mostly, anyway. But a serial killer, especially one like the Rockies Ripper, who goes around slitting teenage girls’ and young boy’s throats and ripping their bodies apart for no apparent reason… that’s a whole different animal. That keeps people, parents especially, up at night. Still, the syndicates really are getting out of hand, aren’t they?”
It seemed like you couldn’t go a month without learning about a new inter-gang related murder in Denver. The boldness of the violence was increasing as well. Being clandestine was less a concern for them at the moment than attacking rival gangs.
“For them to be at each other’s throats like this means a monumental turf war is going on,” Carlos said.
“Yeah, that’s what our informants are saying. One of the syndicates has been pushing its weight around Colorado and telling the smaller gangs to either bow down or get put down. It’s evolving beyond a simple gang war. There are some Rogue espers in the mix; some with high CLs. Some who’ve been on the most wanted list for a while.”
“Yeah, well that’s why ARES is finally getting involved, isn’t it?”
“You don’t sound too happy about it, Rob.”
“You’re originally from LA not Denver, Cornejo, so you don’t remember the ‘Battle of the Golden Triangle’ like us Denver natives do.”
“I’ve seen pictures and videos of it.”
“None of the photos, the videos, or the documentaries capture seeing a whole neighborhood be reduced to rubble by a handful of Rogues and Hoplites. Watching a high CL Rogue and an ARES Hoplite duke it out is like watching Greek and Trojan heroes from the Iliad square off right in front of you. I never felt so helpless and awed at the same time. I’m telling you, there are some goddamn monsters disguised as men and women walking among us, Cornejo.”
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed she was amplifying her punches and kicks with psy-energy or that she had bionic limbs. The limiter they both wore that dampened their psychic abilities ruled out the former, and lack of any visible cyber enhancements ruled out the latter. Gabriella Cornejo was a monster.
“Come on, Martin. Even if it’s sparring, you’re still not supposed to get hit this much!” Martin’s younger brother berated from outside of the ring.
Martin was actually giving his hardest in this sparring session. Punches he initially thought he would have to pull against a female opponent came out in full swing once he felt Gabby’s power. And then there was her reaction speed – it was simply unreal. She almost seemed clairvoyant with how she weaved around and parried every strike. Her own punches and kicks felt far too heavy for a 14-year-old girl of her frame. Martin could only imagine how many whelps and bruises he would have if they weren’t wearing sparring gear and using practice gloves.
Despite Martin being a fifteen-year-old boy facing a girl a year his junior, this combat was more a beat down than a spar, and he just couldn’t explain it in anyway besides the sentence: ‘Gabriella Cornejo is simply a monster.’
Time ran out for the sparring session which was fortunate for Martin, who collapsed on his rear as soon as it ended. Martin was an amateur boxer. He had a 9-0 record with six KOs, half of which against boys older and more experienced than himself. How did he end up getting whipped by a fourteen-year-old girl?
“Martin, what was that?” his younger brother asked as Martin exited the ring. “You holding back because she’s a girl or something?”
“Look, Dylan, if you’re gonna run your mouth so damn much, you get in there and spar with her!”
“Oh, your little bro wants a go too?” Gabby casually asked.
Dylan smiled. “Sure. I’ll bang with you for a bit… If we can leave the limiters off. I want to see what you can do when you’re Tuned up with psy-energy.”
“Sure. Throw on some gear and get in here.”
Dylan accepted her invitation and went to gear up. Doug, one of the gym’s trainers sighed as he watched them.
“What’s up, Doug? Isn’t it just some kids sparring?” one of the older members of the gym asked.
“That mouthy kid over here gearing up is Dylan. He and his brother are new to the gym.”
“The Montgomery brothers, right? Heard they’re both prodigies.”
“They are. Martin already has a pretty impressive amateur career for his age. Everybody except Gabriella has had trouble against him. As for his little brother… That kid’s only thirteen, isn’t even an amateur boxer yet, and he’s already knocked out a few high school kids with winning amateur records. His psy-energy control is insane for his age. And he refuses to spar without psy-energy being allowed. Says it’s just ‘play-fighting’ otherwise. Me and some other trainers have actually have had to get onto him for sparring too hard. He hasn’t seriously hurt anyone yet, but…”
The gym-goer just shook his head. “Jesus… These kids are getting freakier every new generation now. Still, is Dylan more of a freak than Gabby is?”
“We’re about to see, I guess.”
“No, we aren’t,” a woman coldly said from behind them.
Just as Dylan entered the ring, a beautiful young woman called out to his opponent.
“Gabriella! Did you forget what I told you earlier?”
Gabby anxiously looked over at the annoyed woman.
“N-Nicole! Wow… I didn’t know you were at the gym today… I was just---“
“You were just sparring despite me specifically telling you that you still needed to recover and to avoid direct-contact training?” Nicole inquisitored. “And now you’re about to do some no-limiter psychic kickboxing on top of that?”
“Well, uh… I mean… It’s not exactly…”
The girl who had just made light work of Martin found herself babbling like a brook. The woman intimidating her was not a trainer at the gym. She wasn’t a martial artist. She was a physical therapist at the gym responsible for keeping, restoring, and enhancing the physical conditions of the gym’s younger members. She was very good at her job. Usually, she was also very light-hearted about her job. It was only Gabby and her obsession with overtraining that brought out the viper staring the girl down.
“Nicole, I’m not going to—“
“No. Hit a bag or some pads if you want to throw punches or kicks that badly.”
Accepting defeat, Gabby removed her sparring equipment and started to leave the ring. Dylan looked disappointed at being robbed of an opponent he could finally go all-out against. He was about to remove his gear when he heard Gabby call out someone’s name.
“Matt! Do, you wanna fill in for me?” she asked her younger brother who was skipping rope by himself. “It’s been a while since you fought.”
Matthias stopped his exercise and gazed over at his prospect opponent. Dylan gazed back and wasn’t’ impressed. He looked even younger than Dylan himself. Going all-out against someone like him might actually have gotten him and Martin kicked out of the gym. But then, he saw Gabby come close and whisper something in Matthias’s ear. A sly smile then came across her brother’s face.
“Alright, sure. Let me get some gear.”
Doug sighed again, and this time even heavier than before. Dylan wondered if he was going to keep them sparring so to protect the boy. The idea of having to hold back against a younger opponent who wouldn’t be able to handle what Dylan dished out was already annoying the junior Montgomery brother. Was he even going to be allowed to use psy-energy at all?
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
While he started looking around for a limiter, he heard Matthias ask “Are we doing this with or without psy-energy?”
Dylan glanced at him with a raised brow, amazed Matthias would be so bold to even pose such a question. Did he not know he was about to face a psy-boxing prodigy? He had knocked out a high schooler with a winning amateur record just a week ago. He even gave his older brother trouble in their sparring sessions.
“If Dylan’s fine with it,” Doug answered.
“Of course I’m fine with it. I just don’t get why he is?” Dylan uttered, sounding baffled.
He began wondering if Doug had hit his head wrong this morning? Had he started drinking already? Perhaps he just had a grudge against Matthias’s parents?
“Hey, Dylan, One more thing,” Doug said to him. “Don’t worry about holding back. Act like you’re in a real match and give Matthias everything you’ve got.”
Dylan blinked. He smiled as he and Matthias finally faced each other in the center of the ring. He now understood: the coach must have just hated this kid. This was all just a clever way of the coach to mess this kid up and then proclaim innocence later. He would just blame Dylan for being needlessly rough later, as he had a reputation for. It was the perfect crime, and Dylan was perfectly content with playing the villain.
“Whatever. Let’s just get on with this,” Dylan said. “Hey, your name was… ‘Matthew’ or something like that?”
“…Sure.”
“Well, don’t worry. This’ll be over so quick you won’t even have time to feel anything.”
“Wow. Don’t you sound like a scary guy,” Matthias said while taking his stance.
Matthias sounded confident. Dylan liked that. It was always better when they were confident. It made putting them down that much more satisfying.
“Alright, boys: psy-energy is allowed, clinching is allowed, elbows and knees are allowed, grappling and attacking a downed opponent isn’t allowed,” Doug instruct. “Now get busy.”
Dylan had not taken a proper stance. He didn’t need one. His reflexes, Tuned through his psy-energy, allowed him to strike his opponents quicker with his hands lowered than they could with both hands up. But something bizarre happened – Dylan began falling backwards before his fist could reach its target. With his rear on the canvas, he gazed up at Matthias confused. Matthias just looked down and gestured.
“You gonna get up, or what?”
Dylan’s face briefly contorted as he got to his feet. That was the first time in forever somebody had managed to put him on the floor. He was not fully unconvinced that he had simply slipped. Either way, he was actually motivated to hurt the kid in front of him now.
“Continue,” the coach said after Dylan was once again ready.
Dylan this time threw a few feints at Matthias. To his bewilderment, his opponent didn’t bite on a single one. He didn’t even flinch. Was his level just too low for him to react in time or was he genuinely unfazed by them. Either way, Dylan chose to go in and give Matthias a powerful chin check. His plan was foiled by his own chin getting checked and him going down again; this time onto his knees.
His brother Martin looked on absolutely astonished. Even he had only managed to put his younger brother down on the canvas twice in only one sparring session, and he was at his most serious when he had done so. Just what was going on here?
“Dylan, get serious!” he snapped at his younger sibling.
Dylan punched the canvas so hard it made the ring tremble and left a light impression in it. He had been trying on both occasions he went down. It was just that Matthias had caught him. How the hell was he getting caught this easily by some random kid two years his junior? He peered around and noticed that Doug, Gabriella, and even Nicole looked unsurprised by how the fight was going. Why were they so blasé about somebody like Dylan going down to the canvas twice? Did they know something he didn’t?
“A little advice for the next time you get up:” Matthias began. “Keep your gloves up. Fighting with your hands down just makes your chin an easy target. You don’t have the head movement or footwork to act like you’re Ali or Silva.”
Dylan heard some snickering from others who had come over to watch he and Matthias spar. Feeling a tinge of humiliation he had never felt before in his life, he hopped to his feet. Though it terribly hurt his pride, he did indeed keep his hands up. After Doug called for them to continue, Dylan threw another feint, but rather than follow-up with a punch he threw a kick that was much too fast for any 13-year-old without psy-energy to have delivered. Matthias somehow read his movements and ducked it. Still spinning, Dylan followed his failed kick with a haymaker that had his entire body’s torque behind it. Matthias weaved this as well, leaving the ropes to take the blow and shake violently as a result.
“Stop running!” Dylan barked while in pursuit of his agile opponent.
Every strike was either avoided, only grazed its target, or was blocked without dealing any significant damage. For three minutes, Dylan delivered his onslaught without managing to land a single decisive hit.
Why can’t I hit him? There’s no way he’s faster than me! If he was, he would just hit back. He’s running and blocking like this because he knows he doesn’t have my explosiveness… I’ll break his turtling ass wide open!
Dylan’s thoughts raged even more than his hands and feet did. He knew that if he could just force Matthias to the corner, this sparring match of theirs would be over. Matthias couldn’t dodge effectively then and he wouldn’t be able to block everything Dylan threw at him. Eventually, Dylan, while feeling that even he was reaching the end of his stamina, did manage to push Matthias’s back to the corner.
“Got you now!” he barked excitedly before going in for the kill.
At that moment, like a matador facing a rampaging bull, Matthias gracefully weaved around Dylan charge and performed a smooth 180 degree turn on his heels. Dylan almost left an impression on the ring’s corner with his face from colliding so hard with it. It would have been better had he fell, but his stubbornness caused him to swing around to face his opponent while still tired and disoriented. Matthias used this opportunity to its absolute fullest. A flurry of punches that struck furiously at both the face and body were unleashed in a burst that Dylan was neither prepared for or had the remaining stamina to properly defend. At the end of this barrage, he tried swinging back at Matthias one last time but was countered by a flying knee that sent his mouthpiece soaring.
It was first of many humiliations for Dylan: The first flying knee that he ever had successfully landed on him, the first time he had lost his mouthpiece, and, worst of it all, the first time he went face down on the canvas.
“That’s it! You’re both done!” Doug announced while entering the ring.
Both he and Martin, still in disbelief at what he had just witnessed, went to the aid of Dylan who was muttering something while forcing himself to his knees. They couldn’t make out the words but they were certain they were mostly swears.
“Hey… Your name was ‘Derrick’, right?” Matthias asked with a smirk on his face.
Biting on his busted lip, Dylan responded with “...It’s Dylan.”
“Oh. Well, good job keeping your hands up, Dylan. Learn how to actually kickbox and you might go pro one day.”
Matthias left Dylan in the ring to sulk while going over to his sister who was waiting with Nicole with a cool bottle of water for him.
“So, what did you think of him?” Gabriella asked while she watched her brother drink. “Think he’s pretty good?”
“No. He’s trash. He’s gifted when it comes to psy-energy control, but that’s it. He over relies on explosiveness, hoping he can overwhelm you early on. Reality is, he’s got no real fundamentals. His strikes are sloppy and easy to read. His cardio is garbage – probably never works on it because he thinks none of his fights are gonna last that long. His footwork is super stiff and he's got next-to-zero head movement. Pretty much leaves his chin wide open because he thinks his opponent won’t hit him in time anyway. Can’t believe I had to tell him to keep his hands up. If we had sparred with limiters on, he would’ve been knocked out the second time I touched his chin. He’s not even an amateur journeyman without any psy-energy.”
“Yeah, that’s about what I figured. I saw him sparring with some other guys earlier,” Gabriella said. “He just seemed like a bully who liked overpowering people. Thanks for going in there and taking him on. Feel like I would’ve ended up really hurting him without meaning to if I had to spar him.”
“Whatever. I wanted the opportunity to spar against somebody besides you. Being your main training dummy gets a little old after a while.”
“What? I don’t use you as a training dummy!”
“I’ve taken more punches and kicks from you than every bag and matt in this gym combined, Gabby.”
Gabby pouted. “Well, since you wanted to fight somebody besides me so bad, I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t finish Dylan earlier? There were at least four times before you got in that corner that you could’ve ended the fight.”
“I know the moments you’re talking about, and the answer is – I couldn’t even if I wanted to. That guy’s reaction speed was too fast for me to put him down whenever there was an opening.”
Gabby shrugged. “Seemed like it would’ve been pretty easy to me.”
“Because you’re a freak, Gabby. A few days ago, you sparred a college girl with a winning amateur record and who just recently went pro, and you almost fought her to a draw. You’re abnormal.”
Gabby pouted harder. “Matt, I told you stop calling me stuff like ‘freak’ and ‘abnormal!’”
“Well, how else am I supposed to describe a monster like you?”
Nicole snorted as she watched the siblings squabble. It was bit rich to hear Matthias refer to anybody else as a monster when he just dismantled an older opponent who had allegedly never lost to anyone facing him. While Gabriella might have been a physical specimen, Matthias’s fight IQ was an equally brilliant gift. His calmness in the middle of a fight and ability to assess the strengths and weaknesses of an opponent from just a brief exchange were on a level nobody in the gym, not even Gabriella, could match. He didn’t even need a coach in his corner.
From Nicole's perspective Matthias and Gabriella were both little monsters-in-the-making.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
When Matthias and Gabby made it home, they were unsurprised to see their brother Jonny had beat them there. Their mother was a gymnastics coach whose schedule allowed her to pick him up from practice. What did surprise them were the two strangers who were conversing with their mother in the kitchen.
“Oh, and there they are! We were just talking about you two,” Marissa said when they both arrived. “Sarah, Donald, these are Jonathan’s twin-sister Gabriella and little brother Matthias.”
The two strangers greeted the siblings warmly.
“Nice to meet you two. Your mom’s been going on about all her kids since she dragged me and Sarah into your place,” Donald jested.
“Oh, stop. I didn’t drag you two here,” Marissa playfully responded. You’re our new neighbors, so I wanted to give you a warm welcome.”
“We’re just a little taken back is all,” said Sarah. “We’re originally from DC and have moved around a lot in the last few years, but this is the warmest reception we’ve ever been given by a new neighbor. You even offered us a pie!”
“I baked a little extra the other day and nobody in the house ever got around to eating it, so it’s no loss.”
Marissa’s children watched her chit-chat with their new neighbors in silence. Their Ecuadorian-born mother was a natural socialite. If there was an opportunity to make small talk with somebody, she took it. How she and their hard-boiled workaholic father fell in love, their kids had no clue.
“I wish my husband was off-duty, right now. He’d love to meet you two,” Marissa continued. “Especially you Donald. You’re part of ARES, aren’t you?”
Donald snorted. “I’m more of an ARES pencil pusher than anything. I just go to wherever the nearest HQ is and handle the busywork the guys in the field and the guys on the Board can’t or just don’t want to do themselves. I’m not a Hoplite or anything. Our daughter was actually pretty disappointed when she found that out.”
“It’s a shame she’s not here to meet your kids, Marissa,” Sarah added.
“Why isn’t she? Is she sick or something?” Jonny asked.
“No, she’s just completely drained for the day. She helped moved our things in the house and rearrange them all day and it took a lot out of her.”
“Ah, that’s cute. She must’ve been working real hard carrying all those little things,” said Gabriella, imagining a little girl hustling between her parents and hired movers with small objects in her grasp.
“Oh, no. She was carrying furniture,” Sarah corrected. “One of the movers sprained his ankle trying to carry something, so she did a lot of extra help with carrying couches, dressers, desks, workout equipment; stuff like that.”
All of the Cornejo family looked at their new neighbors oddly.
“Um… How old is your little girl exactly?” Marissa asked.
“Eleven. Same age as Matthias,” answered Donald plainly.
The thought of an eleven-year-old girl toting a workout bench by herself was a sight none of the Cornejos had seen or thought of before. The only answer could have been through the aid of psy-energy, but while it was common knowledge that people could surpass their physical limits through psychic abilities, an eleven-year-old showing that degree of psy-energy control for that extended period of time was a bit absurd. Was this some joke the couple were playing on their new neighbors?
“Anyway, it was nice to meet all of you,” Donald said as he and his wife prepared to depart. “Look forward to meeting your husband, Marissa.”
“And thanks for the cake! We promise we’ll return the favor,” said Sarah before she and Donald headed out.
Still mystified by the thought of the Holloways powerlifting eleven-year-old daughter, the Cornejo siblings departed from each other’s company as their mother went to prepare dinner. Feeling too tired to draw that night, Matthias grabbed a book from his shelf instead and dropped into his bed to read, joined by Juana who had followed him into his room once more. When not flipping through pages, his hand gently caressed her fur while he read.
Matthias rarely broke focus while reading, but he caught sight of something from his window that made him uncharacteristically pause. In his new neighbors’ new home, the room that was opposite of his on the second floor which had up until that point been empty had its lights flicker on for the first time he could recall. A yawning redhead in pajamas and a towel half-covering her head walked past his visage. She looked Matthias’s way and the two briefly made eye contact. Matthias couldn’t properly make out her face before she frowned and said something inaudible. It must have been a command to some AI because her curtains automatically closed on their own.
Juana meowed at her lack of pets, prodding and licking Matthias’s unmoving hand for further attention. Her master’s attention was suspended however. He was staring blankly out of his window.
Eventually, he rubbed is eyes and shook his head.
“Did I let that kid at the gym swing at me too much? My eyes are playing tricks on me, right? …Right?!”