A blast left Rowen’s finger and headed toward Carlos. It wasn’t his usual invisible grab; the teenager focused some of his power and sent it out like a projectile, giving it more impact and speed than his normal attacks. It passed through the afterimage and exploded against the arena’s wall with enough force to send a ringing sensation through the ears of everyone nearby. The crowd’s roar at this display of brute force was cut short. The attack missed.
Carlos appeared in front of Rowen, and the sand behind him began to explode as his speed caught up with the boy. He didn’t punch or kick; he slapped Rowen across the face, sending the white-haired boy face down in the sand.
Ratcatcher sighed. Carlos’ power didn’t actually grant him superspeed. In the Iternian Power Ranking, his was a D-rank, one of the lowest special powers, just like hers, while Rowen’s was a solid B-rank, with the potential to become a low A-rank if the teenager could learn to control it with his mind alone and not rely so much on visual contact.
Carlos’ power acted as a sort of cushion. Every human had hidden reserves; there were records of a normal human lifting a rock that eight other men could not lift after the adrenaline kicked in. But such feats came at a cost to the body. Carlos could push his body to its limits without the risk of dislocating bones or having his tendons ripped, unless he tripped, of course. His power kept the boy’s body safe from harm and unleashed his full potential, but only when it came to speed. And his power didn’t just increase the boy’s speed, it also increased his reaction time and his ability to process information.
On a Normie or even on most Abnormals it would be wasted, or at least not as great. But here was the crux of the matter: Carlos wasn’t a normal Abnormal; his family had greatly enhanced the boy’s body, making it much stronger than it had any right to be.
That was why Augustus insisted so much on bulking up his students, acting like a mother hen when it came to feeding, pointing out how Carlos and Vasily cracked their fingers after a rapid fist showdown. Protein provided muscle, and muscle provided speed, added protection, and strength. Abnormals had little fear of sudden heart disease; their bodies naturally adapted to the change in form. Even Eugenia, the person who had access to the most elegant and miniature bio-implants, had to grow in size or the advanced components or enlarged muscles would be a detriment to her former body. Carlos’ bio-enhancements were top of the line, but they would better complement a larger body. Form followed function, as Artificer said.
But Carlos’ power had a downside. Not only could his body move faster, but his mind could think faster. Instead of giving him clarity, it confused his speech patterns and made him unpredictable and prone to impulses, resulting in Carlos’ sharp tongue and quick actions all too often humiliating his opponents. The Barjoni always apologized for his actions afterwards, but now Rowen was about to learn firsthand just how nasty his comrade could be.
Rowen wasn’t born Abnormal. His power had no natural drawback on his mind, but it was still in the process of maturing. The Iternian scientists theorized that the boy might one day reach a level of utility that Jack, a natural-born Abnormal raider leader killed by Warlord Dragena recently, had. The cruel raider could use his power without looking, sensing his surroundings with his mind alone and pulverizing most opposition with his telekinesis. Rowen, the scientists claimed, deliberately held back because of the strain on his brain. That was why the boy tired out rather fast; his body was not up to par with his power, and he had no rich sponsors to pay for his evolution.
This will, of course, change when Rowen reaches adulthood, and both the military and the Intelligence will fawn over him, clamoring for a chance to get their hands on potential Elite material. If Rowen would agree, his very cells would be tailored toward biological perfection, making him faster, stronger, and able to heal and resist the deadliest diseases with ease. But for now, the government had no right to brainwash the children into joining the military, so there was no reason to spend money on an asset that might one day decide to leave Iterna or fail his parole. Rowen had only the basic Iternian upgrades and some physical enhancements paid for by the Headmaster himself, not even the standard Rho’s enhancements for infantry. He could not shrug off the damage as easily as Carlos, nor did he have the same stamina.
A far superior body, but a weaker power. And another was in the opposite situation. Both had the keys to greatness, just in different ways. Ratcatcher felt ecstatic at a potential chance of winning against them.
“How quickly bravado turns into embarrassment,” Carlos said, feigning disappointment. Without raising his head, Rowen pointed his finger, and another burst of force speared through the ghostly afterimage. Carlos himself had leapt at the opponent’s knees, grabbing one leg with both arms. “But what else can I expect from a ruffian whose words are laced with arrogance and...”
Rowen raised his left hand, making an ‘Okay’ sign with his fingers, and brought his hand down, slamming the palm against the floor. Ratcatcher saw Carlos’ pupils dilate, and then the whole area around Rowen exploded upward. The Barjoni mercenaries were already there, forming a wall in front of several unconscious or sitting fighters. Portable energy shields attached to their wrists came to life, forming protective energy shells in the path of the advancing wall of sand. Pieces of sand hissed against the main shield, protecting the spectators, and the crowd erupted into cheers of amazement and gasps of concern.
A dark shape rose amidst the explosion, and the sand surged away, breaking the near-perfect cone shape of the raised sand and rushing out in all directions, creating an eye of the storm with Rowen at its center. The boy licked the blood from his lips and spat it out. The cloud to his left exploded, a line of blur making its way to his back, and Ratcatcher saw Carlos, his arm already completing the cruel hook aimed at the other boy. Carlos backed away, shaking his knuckle with a frown as a dull thud of flesh and an impenetrable wall rolled across the arena. Rowen’s hand was behind his back, all fingers pointing up. The boy used his own power to harden the point of space, creating a protective layer on his back.
Carlos darted away, dodging a telekinetic spear that tore through part of the sand floor, sending a small wave of destruction toward the mercenaries. Rowen spun around, firing more and more rapid shots from his fingers and missing every time the laughing Carlos ran circles around him, fixing his dislocated index finger. Each of Rowen’s telekinetic thrusts was accompanied by the howling of the wind, as his power was breaking the sound barrier.
“Too slow! Far too slow! You will never, ever hit me like that, Rowyyyy!” Carlos’ cry broke through the thunderous discharges of Rowen’s power.
“I don’t need to aim to hit you,” Rowen said, and Ratcatcher saw him rising in the air. “I’ll just flatten the whole area, and you with it!” He raised his hands and brought them down as if throwing a great weight.
Another explosion rocked the arena, and this time everyone felt it. Ratcatcher was helping the Mayor’s daughter to her legs when the sand beneath them shook and the two girls nearly fell. The telekinetic sledgehammer, Ratcatcher decided to call it this way, beat up tons of sand in the air, leaving dents in the iron beneath Rowen’s floating legs. But it didn’t stop there. The wave of destruction threw Carlos into the air, and Rowen clapped his hands again, sending a ripple across the sand. Like a noose, it formed a half-circle, closing in on the falling Carlos.
He can’t do anything in the air! Ratcatcher understood, watching the frantic movements of her comrade and tonight’s main rival.
The ‘noose’ closed around Carlos, grabbing him and carrying him to the wall. It slammed him against the stone, exploding and throwing the Barjoni against the stone with renewed force, sending a small cloud of stone dust and sand around him.
“Elina, are you still with us?” Ratcatcher leapt to the team leader. The brown-haired girl nodded, accept a helping hand, and sat down, shaking the sand from her ears. “I have a plan for how to take our monsters down!”
“I bet you regret inviting me to the party now, Carlos!!!” Rowen laughed demonically, raising his index fingers and filling all the displays as he slowly lowered himself back to the ground.
Elina nodded and listened to Ratcatcher’s plan. “It can work,” she said.
“But I have no idea how to take down Rowen!” Ratcatcher slapped the sand with her tail and wrapped it around her waist to contain her worry. “If we try to rush him, he’ll just toss us aside. And we can’t go for his eyes or groin, it’ll be maiming and bad…” She stopped after hearing Elina’s choked chuckles.
“You… groin… you leave him to me.” Elina calmed down and put a hand on her shoulder. “Vas! Want to take down an asshole?”
The boy jumped from the sand and hurried to them, listening to the plan.
“Front or back?” Elina asked after finishing her explanation.
“Front.” Vasily cracked his neck. “Rowen and I have a score to settle. The bastard told me that my steaks were overcooked.”
“On me, people!” Ratcatcher waved her hand, summoning the willing members of her unusual team. “We have a plan!”
“Regret?” Carlos asked, slumping off the crater in the wall. He breathed hard, both hands clasped at his sides. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead, and his slicked-back hair became disheveled, giving him a maniacal look. “Rowen, honey, I would’ve never passed up this kind of thrill!”
“Have another, then.” Rowen said, and an invisible spear flew from him, slamming into the wall and exploding with enough force to send a gust of wind all the way to Ratcatcher. “Just tell me when you are ready to surrender!” The teen laughed.
“Why are you shooting blanks?” A voice asked behind him, and Rowen whirled around, exploding the sand behind him. The blurred line circled around him, allowing Carlos to lean against Rowen’s back, still holding his sides. “Man, you really need to work on your aim. I’m right here.”
“Carlos!” Rowen raised his hand to send another tremor, and sand got kicked into his eyes.
With a curse, the white-haired trainee shook the arena again, causing one of the mercenaries to glance at Enrico in worry. The elder Barjoni ignored the silent concern and Torosian’s worries and lifted his arm, indicating that the fight could continue. The Matriarch’s floating platform approached the edge of the arena and the white-robed woman lifted a pair of elegant binoculars covered in gold and jade and surveyed the arena, nodding slightly to show that all was well.
Ratcatcher understood their reasoning, quenching her worries and keeping explaining her plan to the group. Carlos was fine. Yeah, sure, the skin on his forehead got cut, but the blood was already coagulating, and the teen’s unique healing enhancements banished the crimson around the wound, restoring the noble bronze color to his skin. Rowen wielded his power with care. No, the real reason Carlos was holding his side wasn’t because of the external damage, but because his own organs were being squeezed together. Ratcatcher guessed that Carlos’ peritoneum was at least dislocated, and the friction between it and his internal organs was causing him the intense pain. No doubt his eardrums were ringing too, both from the blood pressure and from the effects of Rowen’s attack.
But he was able to go on. Carlos jumped into the air to avoid the shockwave on the ground, and Rowen missed that moment, still blinking away the sand. Ignoring the chance for a counterattack, Carlos continued to run circles around his opponent, beating up sand with his sheer speed and hiding behind this makeshift veil. Rowen’s clumsy counterattacks missed their marks by a wide margin, and something akin to confusion appeared on his face as he kept on levitating higher. A correct choice. There was no need for Carlos to strain his body even further at a moment; with a little time, the damage would recede.
“I still don’t get why we can’t simply let them duke it out and beat up the winner,” said the mercenary leader’s daughter.
The girl was the only one who wore an old-fashioned sand-colored underarmor with soldier markings instead of a tracksuit or civilian clothes. Her skin was pale as snow, but there were patches of even whiter skin all over her. A nostril, an ear, and long stretches on her neck that went all the way under her collar and two of her fingers. Noticing that one of her almond eyes had been replaced by a round implant of the same color, Ratcatcher hazarded a guess that either the girl herself or her parents had made her go to a clinic to have the scars removed and the lost body parts restored. She spoke with a bit of arrogance, but her eyes kept an eye on both the fighters and the surroundings, and her moves were economical, never letting her guard down. Still, she was what, fifteen, sixteen at the most? Did people outside of Iterna really send their young into battle at that age?
“Because as long as there are two of them, they will subconsciously focus not only on us, but on each other,” Elina explained patiently, helping the mayor’s daughter to set her dislocated shoulder. The other girl grimaced but endured the pain, checking her hand to see if her fingers moved as they should. “Once left alone, they will have no rival left, no need to show off, so to speak. And the last one standing will have a heightened awareness due to exhaustion. But together, they will try to outshine each other, creating an opening for us, as our leader said.” She nodded at Ratcatcher.
“I am no leader!” Ratcatcher raised her hands. “I just came up with a plan and found people! Elina, you are the one who organized us!”
“Leader for today,” Elina said without a hint of mercy. “A leader’s job is to distribute responsibilities and listen to good advice. Everyone, this is Eliza Vong, and she is in charge tonight.”
“Call me Ratcatcher, please,” she asked. A few people gave her confused looks, and she explained: “It is my tribal name. Both Eliza and Ratcatcher are good, but I like the name Ratcatcher better.”
“It has a nice ring to it,” said the tall and muscular Barjoni. “I will play the role of a bulwark.”
“Thanks!”
“I still think that we should’ve let them finish the fight and murder the winner in cold blood,” the mercenary grumbled. She noticed Vasily’s expression. “Is there something wrong with my face, mate?”
“No.” The boy thrust a hand into the sand and started digging out a hole. “I, uh… want to have a dance afterwards?”
“Sure.”
“But the playtime is over, my friend,” Carlos sang, and everyone stopped. The boy took his hands from his sides.
Rowen exploded the ground beneath himself, driving Carlos to the wall. Another telekinetic noose followed after Carlos, aiming to slam the Barjoni against the wall. And the boy grinned and ran up the wall. Ratcatcher felt her eyes widen against her will. Solid, almost smooth, except for a few recent cracks, the concrete wall and he running across its surface, defying gravity!
Carlos broke into a blur, making a full circle around the arena, and jumped off the wall behind Rowen.
“I am the star here, Rowen!” he shouted, aiming his fist at the back of Rowen’s head. “Don’t you dare go around upstaging me!”
“Want to be a star?” the white-haired boy said calmly. “Go to the sky.”
The back of his coat exploded, allowing his hand to point at Carlos. Barjoni froze close to Rowen, jerking and twitching as the telekinesis of his opponent started lifting him high in the air. But before the two could make any distance, Carlos grabbed Rowen with his legs, dragging the surprised boy after himself. And slammed him into the metal ceiling between the two projectors.
“Eat shit, Row… Oh, shit!” Carlos cried out the moment Rowen’s power stopped working and gravity took hold of him.
Ratcatcher saw how Torosian facepalmed himself while Carlos came crushing down in an explosion of screams and sand. The teenager immediately jumped to his feet, shook the sand from his body, and announced that he was okay. She nodded to Elina, and the girl moved away, leading her own ambush team as Vasily started swimming beneath the sand.
“Your nose, trainee!” Torosian shouted.
“Thank you, sir!” Carlos replied unabashedly, and fixed his damaged nose with a crunch.
His opponent stood up, defying gravity thanks to his power. Rowen wasn’t in the best of shape; sweat and blood trickled down his face, soaking his hair. He panted, struggling to keep his breathing steady. But Carlos was not in pristine condition either. His breathing and movements slowed, betraying the strain of the night. The chance was here at last.
“Prepare for battle!” Rowen roared, launching himself from the ceiling. He made a somersault in the air, using his own power to land opposite Carlos. “It is time. There can be only one winner tonight, and…”
“That would be me.” Carlos grinned. “I salute you for lasting so long, but the writing is on the wall. One will fall…”
“Make it two!” Ratcatcher called out. She snapped her fingers, and two dozen fighters, trainees, Barjonis, and civilians stepped forward. “Don’t forget about us!”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be free for all?” Rowen said.
“Yep, and all has decided to band together and take you two down!” Ratcatcher put her fists on her flanks.
“Weaklings think they can influence the outcome.” Rowen smiled and winced, silently asking them not to take his act seriously. The boy bent his legs. “Too bad, so sad.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Come now; the only way for the small fly to hunt down a stronger prey is by working in packs.” Carlos laughed haughtily, covering his mouth with his hand. “Only we are not prey you can hunt, dearest Eliza. Scurry away; find an opponent of your level before you find yourself buried beneath this beautiful sand.”
“Try it, Carly.” Ratcatcher returned the smile and beckoned him with an index finger, uncoiling her tail from her waist. “Or are you going to chicken out and let Rowy do the work?”
“Eliza.” His eyes flashed with genuine annoyance. “It will hurt a bit.”
It worked! She felt her heart racing a little bit faster. With only Nadya and Wedge with her, Ratcatcher knew little of the banter. She wanted to call Caros a rich, pompous asshole to bait him, but he was her friend and she wasn’t sure if that was an insult or not. There were some limits, especially when the whole crowd was watching. Thank Planet, the boy was still under the effect of his own power, a mere insinuation that Rowen could outdo him by dealing with them alone was enough to whip Carlos into action.
Just as planned! Elina jumped at Rowen from behind, the shockwave leaving her fingers. Rowen turned his upper body, almost lazily, and the shockwave was suspended in mid-air, along with the girl, after a gesture of his hand. He pointed with a free hand, and four teens who tried to get a drop on him got flung away. Carlos didn’t charge, didn’t jump, but dove toward Ratcatcher, slowing to a blur from all the damage he’d taken tonight and the trouble he was having breathing through his broken nose. But weakened or not, he dropped three trainees who stepped to shield Ratcatcher.
“Try me for size, Carlos” the Barjoni that Ratcatcher had fought earlier stepped in front of her.
“Oaf, idiot, slow, slow, slow!” Carlos laughed, and the boy trembled, weathering the storm of punches and kicks but holding his ground. Both Barjonis grunted, begrudgingly accepting each other’s strengths. “It’s taking too long! I wanna deck Eliza out, so back off!”
“Shall I smack you with your own power?” Rowen asked his prisoner, and Elina’s face turned into a mask of horror. “Yes, that would be nice. It will send you straight into the arms of your parents...”
Left or right? Ratcatcher caught herself thinking. At the end, she acted on pure instinct and delivered her best horizontal kick to the right as Carlos pushed past his cousin. The tip of her toe had almost touched the boy’s skin when the feigned surprise on his face turned to smug glee and he leaned back, sliding forward on his knees.
“Too slow, Eli!” Carlos laughed, preparing to get up.
“Nope, just fast enough, Carli!” Ratcatcher tail wounded around his waist.
Vasily broke out of the sand in front of Rowen and kicked him in the stomach while he was busy holding Elina. “Learn to appreciate proper cooking, asshole!” Vasily said, raising his hands and taking the full brunt of the shockwave that knocked him and Rowen to the ground. Elina landed next, grabbing Rowen’s hands, and her entire group came down on him.
“You just never learn, do you?” A vein appeared on Carlos’ temple. “Want me to take you for another spin, Eli?”
“Any time!” Ratcatcher laughed. “But this time, you tail me!”
“Wha…”
His cousin took Ratcatcher by her nape and the back, throwing the girl over himself. Her tail, still tightly wrapped around the opponent, drew Carlos into the air after her. For all their training, neither Ratcatcher, nor Carlos weren’t even close to the raw physical strength of the boy who threw her. And she used this and her own tail to lift Carlos even higher, extending the arc at which he would fall.
“Your ability to drive me mad is uncanny!” Carlos shouted. “Well, you’ve done it; once I’m on the ground, I…” He shut his mouth, seeing how two members of her group—the mercenary and another trainee—jumped behind his cousin. “Well, ain’t this a su…” He dodged the first kick, but the second got planted right into his face.
“Beat pile him!” Ratcatcher ordered, landing on her legs and jumping at Carlos. The fall and the kick had stunned him for a moment, but it was enough to prevent his escape.
“Don’t you mean to hug pile him?!” Carlos croaked under the weight of everyone.
“I know what I said!”
“Why in the Planet’s name are you ganging up on us?!” Rowen howled, blocking hits aimed at his face. Each time he managed to push someone with a blast, another fighter grabbed him by the hand, pushing his fingers away. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to play the role of a cool villain?”
“Counterargument, you chose to play a villain!” Elina snapped at him.
“Oh, so that justifies you attacking us all together?” Carlos asked, trying his best to wriggle his way to freedom, and gasped as his cousin brought his heavy leg to his pelvis.
“Yes!” Ratcatcher said, and the crowd erupted in laughter.
Carlos joined them, conceding defeat, and Rowen followed suit, surrendering to the onslaught. The groups stood up, some beaten, some with bloody noses, but all happy and with fire in their hearts. The teens looked at each other, as if wondering if the fight should go on, and laughed, grasping hands.
“I have promised a reward to the winner of tonight’s bout.” The Matriarch’s floating platform drew closer; the long skirts of her white dress, studded with gems and emeralds, covered the entire surface of her platform. She raised a gloved hand. “Name the winner.”
“Friendship!” Elina shouted, and Ratcatcher joined the others in supporting her. “So whatever the prize is, we humbly ask you to give it to those in need. To kids at an orphanage or something like that, Lady Cointa Barjoni.”
“Something like that,” the Matriarch mused. “What an interesting puzzle you give me, young Elina Vincent. I thank you all for the wondrous show! Rest, drink and feast! All guests are safe under the roof of our family!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, and the teens had begun to leave the arena, accompanied by thunderous applause. Torosian kept quiet, critically examining each departing trainee from afar. Ratcatcher had little doubt that there would be some work to be done in the future to correct mistakes or incorrect forms. On the other hand, he couldn’t be mad at them; the trainees didn’t hurt anyone tonight, and Rowen and Carlos put on a great show!
“…You come here often?” Ratcatcher overheard how Vasily was asking the mercenary girl.
“It is my first in Iterna.” His companion shrugged. “The raiding season is over; thus, Pops had made a contract with Morningstar’s mayor; something about your boats being sunk too often in the north. We are to fix that. Don’t take it on the chin, but your country is way too hot for my taste. And booze’s too sweet.”
“How is it hot? It is snowing out there!”
“I sort of wish Jumail was here,” Ratcatcher whispered to Elina, and the girl shivered. “And Esmeralda and Edward. And Yura with Olaf.”
“I don’t,” Elina admitted. “Jumail would have ripped us all a new asshole, and I have no idea how to stop Yura or Olaf if they go all out.”
“Think they are okay?”
“Hm?” Elina snapped out of her thoughts. “Of course, they are okay. Probably doing something boring.”
****
“So what are the chances of us getting expelled for this?” Natasha asked.
“I say about fifty-fifty,” another trainee replied.
“No one is getting expelled but me!” Olaf stood up. “This is my mess, and I’ll explain everything to the Headmaster.”
Yura ignored him, concentrating on the ball of energy hovering above the training mats. After everyone left, she and Olaf went off to form a proper bond as teammates. Thanks to Akebia, the vat-born no longer stuttered when speaking with her, and the rest of the group had opened up too. Which was nice; she was sick of having no one to talk with. But she had a lot of catching up to do. Yura had no idea about the movie or cartoon references the other trainees used, she hardly had any idea what a ‘hot dog’ was or why Olaf liked it so much and made a note to try it after she got another permission to leave the Academy. Books and TV helped with the rest, although reading fantasy seemed such a waste of time. She had no idea why Jumail liked it.
The source of their worries was the energy ball that was about twenty paces wide. Olaf shoved everything he could into it before realizing he couldn’t control the thing. The kid could create plasma out of thin air and explode it in a direction of his choosing. His power manifested itself in an oval shape, a strange quirk, but Yura envied him for it. He had a perfect shield and a perfect spear! Two in one! But once the energy had grown big enough, he was soon losing control over his weapon, unlike her.
She shifted her weight, sitting on a hip. It was a stupid thing, but without her suit, one of her bone ridges was cutting deep into a buttock, drawing blood. Jumail urged her to tell the doctors about it, but she persisted. The doctors put her back on the table. She once told the therapist about the maddening pain in her head, and the medics soon invited her for a check-up. They had found another horn inside her skull and removed it entirely. Even though it saved her life, her body was her temple. They had no right to take bones and organs from it. Yura only told Akebia, and the instructor had ordered special bodysuits for her, occasionally asking Yura questions about when she was ready to have a ‘correction’ surgery.
The sphere of energy floated silently, overlapped by the extended space. Yura took no chances and created thirty kilometers—her limit—of empty space around its deadly surface. At first, the trainees panicked, and she suggested that maybe the sphere would whisk out. After another fifteen minutes, the sphere crossed the first kilometer, and now it was Yura who became concerned. She added a new layer, and to an outsider’s eye, the sphere moved a millimeter, but should she lose concentration or fall asleep and bye-bye the nice floor. With some hesitation, they asked the guards for help, and they called Instructor Augustus, the only high-ranking instructor who was available on this night.
The instructor stood before the sphere, surrounded by the monitors showing a very drunken man, who made dirty jokes every now and then, drank non-stop, fiddled with a terminal in hands and remotely investigated the sphere with probes. The other trainees went pale as snow at the instructor’s voice and Yura prepared to protect her new herd with her life if that weirdo tries to do anything. At the drunken man’s command, Yura let a probe get closer and it vaporized in an instant.
“Well, I have some good news and some better news.” The man on the largest floating screen hiccuped. He was lying on a sofa, wearing white slacks and an unbuttoned business suit jacket.
“Will I be expelled?” Olaf asked quietly.
“My boy, who cares?” The man picked up a glass from a table, tossed it aside, poured the contents of an entire bottle of cognac down his throat, and tore off a piece of a tasty piglet. Yura licked her lips with envy. Cognac was way above her pay grade, and Instructor Akebia always scolded the girl for drinking alcohol. “You have just created a ball of energy potent enough to power up a whole city for a day. If they kick you out, give me a call; we’ll hire you in no time.” He burped.
“Uncle!” Augustus snapped. “Stop disgracing yourself! Trainees, the decision will be up to the Headmaster, but Abnormals with power are not easily expelled.” His cold eyes fixed on Olaf’s face, and the boy shrank. “There will be punishment. You had no right to endanger the lives of your teammates like that.”
“Yeah, you tell them Augusty! And tell them a story about a high mountain, a very stubborn boy, and how it all ended, will you?” his uncle said.
“My mistakes are not something to be replicated or imitated.”
“If you aren’t perfect, the hell do you demand perfection from the others?”
“Because if we don’t hold our students to certain standards, they might follow in our footsteps and get themselves killed,” Augustus stated.
“Is that how it works?” His uncle reached for another bottle. “Could’ve fooled me, no lie. You have two potential Elites in the Academy, and what does the government do? Treat them like everyone else! They should have had personal instructors, servants, private rooms…”
“I have my own room, sir,” Olaf said with white lips. “And Instructor Akebia is one of the best in her field. This mistake was mine; I should have known better…”
“Akebia?” The drunken man blinked, and the bottle fell out of his grasp. “They gave you to this retard?”
“How dare you!?” Yura’s bone sword trembled, but she stopped herself from lashing out. She is not an animal.
“Yes, I dare, girl! The woman left the army because she couldn’t adapt to the times. I have no idea what made anyone think she was fit to teach the younger generation anything! The fact that you ended up in danger at all is all the proof I need to claim that she was unfit for the job.” The big man shook his head. “They don’t know how to raise shit properly, much less you. The government should have allowed us to train the Abnormals.”
“So the corporations could pamper and brainwash them into their servants and stage another war? Never,” Augustus said.
“Really now?” The man on the screen blinked twice. “Are we going in there? Because I really hope we are. Tell me, which Elite was trained by a corporation?” Augustus kept his silence, and the man continued. “Me, son! And which asshole was coddled and mistreated and given far more opportunities than that bitch ever deserved...”
“I won’t stand for such insinuations!” Augustus raised his voice for the first time. “Eugenia and Lightbringer are both prime examples…”
“There are seats behind you, Augusty. Take one if you can’t stand,” the rude person said. “And Eugenia was trained by Lada and Artificer, the government was in disarray at the time. And Lightbringer, well, he came to us as an adult.”
“And who had failed the children back then?” Augustus’ words cut through the air. “Who allowed them to be hurt?
“I,” the man in white replied. Yura got the impression that the two of them were talking about an old argument. “Had I’ve been faster…”
“You? You weren’t there,” Augustus said. “I was. My fault. My weakness. My sin. Not the government’s. You blame the government.…”
“How can I not?” the other one roared, breaking a bottle beneath his foot. “I begged them all to send him for a psychiatric evaluation. I screamed into the void, and when it all fell apart, they threw me to the wolves for a fault that wasn’t my own! None of them could handle this mess: Eugenia, Artificer, Lightbringer, the government... They all tried to talk to him, to convince him, because his power was so precious... And what did it bring us, except death and misery? I did what had to be done.”
“And who poisoned that mind?” Augustus asked, and Yura saw pure hatred in the others for the person in white. There was no hint of anger; an ocean of hate filled his eyes, rim to rim. Veins appeared on the mighty neck and his hands clenched into fists. “This wasn’t a government, was it?”
“Maximillian was rotten long before our grandfather started pouring his poison into his ear. And even if you are right, it was the government that brought that spoonful of tar into our house. And me!" The man slapped himself across the chest, grabbed another bottle of cognac, and drank it. “I had to end them both! And how did they repay me?”
“Uncle,” the instructor’s voice softened. “You weren’t kicked out of the Elites just because of political convenience. You had them in the palm of your hand, and you chose to slaughter those who begged for mercy…”
“Oh, so I murdered a bunch of racists. What? Should I have turned those bastards over to the pussies in the government so they could try to rehabilitate such scum? After what they did to those kids? Is that what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I or anyone else wants,” Augustus said. “We must obey the law. Not rise above it.”
“Much good it has done us!” The other man said it with pure venom. “I once had the same delusions. I overheard the nonsense the bastards were saying, recorded it, and ran to the police. All because I believed they could have helped him, saved him...” There was a yearning in his voice. “But... I was wrong. Had I killed them then and there, my parents would still be alive, the children would still be alive, and everything would be normal. I followed the rules and… You can’t let the evil fester and hope for the better,” he sighed. “The past is in the past. Stop dodging the topic. Face it, son, that fool Akebia can’t hold a candle to my workers. She should have been by her students’ side at all times until adulthood! For God’s sake, remember yourselves at their age; of course they are getting into trouble; every teen is prone to that! And doubly so when these teens have powers! You do not leave such dangerous talents to chance.”
“Insult my colleagues again, and we will have a problem, uncle.” Augustus clenched the saber’s handle at his belt. “Enough of this nonsense. You said you have good news.”
“You heard the good news: the boy and the girl are darlings. Congratulations on snatching such prizes.” The man nodded at Yura, and she bared her fangs, unsure if he was mocking her. He replied the same, adding a hiss as a challenge, and Yura decided she liked the bastard for his honesty. Augustus was okay too, but she kind of wished he would smash the drone’s screen for insulting Instructor Akebia. “And the better news is that the orb is leaking energy fast. If not for our mishappen lassie here...”
“I challenge you to a duel!” Yura fired up. Lassy? Lassy was the name of a dog from the TV show she watched in rehab! Sure, Lassy was a good dog, but she’s not a dog!
“I should’ve slapped you for the insolence, but a real man doesn’t hit little girls,” said the face on the screen.
“Are you a man?” Yura tried to imitate sarcasm. “If so, you’ve done a good job of fooling me with all your bitching.”
“Trainee.” Augustus put a hand on her shoulder. “Argus wasn’t insulting you or Instructor Akebia. He is just too drunk and too concerned for your safety, even if he shows it in the most unfit way.”
“He wasn’t?” She blinked and felt bad. Soft skins and their strange words. Akebia told her to control her temper and she had failed the instructor again! “I’m sorry, sir.” Yura bared her neck in submission and apology.
The Malformed never made banter or apologies. They had an instinct, and that instinct was to bare your neck and hope that you were too valuable to be killed, but there were never any real apologies, and friendly banter was an alien word in the herd. The strong bullied the weak into submission, and the weak tried to become invisible to avoid being picked on. Back when she was wild, her father had once killed a meat gatherer for daring to talk back to him. The two men had known each other for years, and the moment the meat gatherer forgot his place, her dad ended his life by tearing out his throat with a single swipe of his mighty claws. Kits weren’t allowed to get into mischief either. Any mischief was punished with food deprivation, and if a kit annoyed an elder, the elder would eat the annoying kit, and that was that.
“Think nothing of it, child.” Argus raised a hand to his eyes, made a snap, and his eyes cleared. The hatred disappeared and shifted into something akin to warmth and care. “Young people should explore the world and not worry about insulting an old fart like me. I apologize for my behavior, kids; I seem to have had one bottle too many. To continue our pleasant conversation. Do you think you can keep the orb in the air for another five hours?”
“Yes, sir!” Yura stood at attention.
“Atta girl,” Argus said. “Five hours. Not less. In four hours, the sphere will become invisible to the naked eye, but the heat and energy will still exist, and if you remove your room, you’ll have more than a little fire on your hands. Anyway, it was nice to see you. Olaf, Yura, if you ever find yourself in a pinch, give Rho Industrials a call; we always hire people with potential.”
“Nothing about the rest of us, huh?” Natasha grumbled as the screen faded to black.
Augustus nodded to the guards, and they let the engineers in, bringing portable shield generators. The instructor didn’t want to take any chances; in a few minutes, the overheated sphere was surrounded by several bubbles of functioning shields, strong enough to preserve the trainees’ lives should Yura’s power fail.
“Not everyone is born the same,” Augustus told Natasha. The instructor sat down beside them and pulled out the terminal. “Some are given more at birth. That doesn’t mean your life is any less valuable, Natasha.”
“Thanks, sir,” the girl said.
“Olaf, five thousand push-ups. Knuckles only,” Augustus ordered.
“Yes, sir!” The boy jumped off his seat.
“The rest, name your favorite treats; I’ll pay. Olaf, you can join in as soon as you finish your preliminary punishment.”
“Preliminary?!” Olaf’s cry turned into a croak as Augustus came over him and stood at the trainee’s back, adding his own weight. With a groan, the teen started performing the exercise.
“Six bottles of cognac, VVSOP at least, or better yet, OWT…” Yura started telling her heart’s desire and could almost feel Augustus’ eyes burning holes in her bone armor. Maybe the others were onto something; the man was scary! “I meant to say six piglets, freshly butchered and still with blood, a roasted goose, and drinks of your choosing, Instructor Augustus!”
*****
Tired after the arena’s showdown, the group headed for showers and then individual massages before reuniting for a late-night party. Truth be told, Ratcatcher had expected the party to be sterile and boring, but Barjoni’s youth had a knack for having fun, and the dance floor was always full as loud music blared in the hall and drinks flowed non-stop. And the young people came in to have the time of their lives, letting it all out instead of wasting time staring at some curiosity, and soon the Ratcatcher was drawn into a dance by the tall Barjonis. This wasn’t a ballet or a slow dance like she’d imagined and read about in books; no, this was a fast-paced, body-thumping parade of joy with few rules or restrictions. And skulking wasn’t allowed here.
All in all, Ratcatcher’s family had agreed that this was the best New Year yet, even if Dad had to spend the next week in the hospital before he could walk without a limp.
After the holidays, Augustus declared his punishment for the team, assigning everyone involved in what he called “bullying” to clean every bathroom unit at the Academy and work at a nearby clinic for half a year. The instructor seemed upset after Ratcatcher joined the team, but she was done being separated from the group. They made a mistake. Big deal; who hasn’t?
Life is too short to spend it in anger. Best to make friends instead. And so she set out to do just that, no longer feeling alone or left out.
Instructor Akebia took four of her students for field training around Howe, a nice border town outside of Iterna’s shield, famous for its pottery and vast underground caverns. Since Torosian was busy with his diplomatic duties and the training had to continue, Instructor Augustus was temporarily put in charge of Jumail, Esmeralda, Edward, and Rowen, along with his four best students. They were to go to the perfect place to test the nanomachine power armor. One morning, the group was awakened by the instructor, who made it a point to check their equipment himself. They boarded a small flying vehicle that turned on the cloaking field and became invisible to the naked eye.
And it flew them toward the lands of the Oathtakers. Their destination was the city that had shattered Chosen Prince army and left him dead. Stonehelm.