Chapter 34

Flyball

San brought his hands into a clap that reverberated through the room. A fierce wind came with it that threatened to knock Ty off his feet.

Walls broke through the floor, hitting the ceiling and taking it higher, an instant remodel happening all around him. It was an amazing sight, but Ty didn't pause to admire it. He charged for San, sword raised.

The ground below San and the door trembled, then sprang upward with the walls.

“No!” Ty jumped the final few feet, his sword finding only solid wall. San stuck his head over the edge, waving and laughing as the distance between them grew.

The other walls continued to rise, expand, and erode, taking on a new shape. The walls were hollow now, inner cavities growing from the bottom to the top, getting wider the higher it went. Chairs popped up to fill in the new space.

It was a colosseum. A mix between a modern football stadium design with elements of the classic Roman structure. Fancy comfortable seats with cup holders clashed with stone pillars.

The construction slowed, the pillars reaching their highest point, chairs everywhere. Doors opened all around the rim at the top and plush creatures swarmed out into the stands like ants. They came seemingly without end, more of them than Ty had even seen in the dining hall.

There were the normal worker kinds and the guard-like sock monkeys with their spears, but he also saw regular creatures armed with weaponry. Swords and axes, spiked yo-yos and boomerangs—the range of weapons were impressive.

Also among the crowd, he caught sight of the chef teddy bears pushing carts with popcorn, candy, and drinks.

Ty didn't like where all of this was going.

“Friends!” San's voice boomed through the colosseum, silencing everyone. Ty stepped back enough that he could see San from atop the wall.

San sat in his own personal stadium seating area, in a large chair, the door built into the back of it. On either side of him were the Elves' stand ins: a pair of sock monkey guards. Even at this distance, Ty knew they were going to be pushovers compared to who they replaced.

“Friends,” he said again, quieter. “I have gathered you here today for the single greatest achievement of our many years.”

Claps and a few shouts of, “Woo!” came from the crowd.

“The rules—gone! The boy has set us free! This night belongs to us now!”

Cheers erupted from the stands, rocking the stadium. Ty saw one overexcited creature's head pop clean off its neck and land in another one's popcorn.

“In thanks, what say we crush him?” Fresh cheers split Ty's ears. And to think he'd actually cared about the plush creatures' well being... “Bring out the puppet!”

Ty's head jerked up so fast he might have been connected to San's words by a string. From behind San's chair, his new guards removed a bundle of something and tossed it over the side of the wall.

Ty ran to catch it and placed it gently on the ground. His friend was wrapped in a white blanket instead of his cloak, his limbs bound and his head obscured... similar to the way a dead body would be wrapped.

Without thinking, he put his ear to Gentry's heart to check for a sign of life. It thumped to a steady rhythm, his chest moving up and down with the beats. He was alive! A smile spread across his face before he realized... Gentry and every other puppet did not have a heartbeat.

A wooden fist connected with the side of his head, and Ty rolled out of control from the force of the blow, landing on his side a few feet away. The blanketed assailant was on his feet, a hole in the cloth from where his arm tore through. The other did the same and removed the bit of the blanket that obscured his face, confirming without a shadow of a doubt who was underneath.

Gentry stared emotionless out at the world. Ty went to his friend, completely unafraid of another attack.

“Gentry, what's happened to you?” Ty shook him a little. There was no response. Ty glared at San and yelled, “What did you do!?”

San cackled from above. All eyes in the stands darted from Ty to their master, literally on the edge of their seat with anticipation.

“I simply tore out what made him who he is and bent it to my own will!” He said, and added to the crowd, “That's my new motto, you know,” and applause erupted from the stands.

Ty waited for them to settle down before he replied, “You can't control Gentry.”

“Really now? And why do you say that?”

“He wasn't made to be controlled by anyone. His strings are completely his—”

“Gentry, destroy him.”

The puppet swung his left arm at Ty, the boy barely able to block it. Gentry pushed against his sword with an extreme amount of force.

“Gentry, no!” The words slipped out between his gritted teeth. “Stop this! It's me.”

Gentry's right hand threw an uppercut into his stomach, Ty's sword dropped, and the puppet's left fist sent him sprawling onto the ground. A blow like that should have knocked the air from his lungs, but Ty got up again like nothing happened.

Gentry shot his hands into the ground and catapulted himself at Ty. The boy swung his sword to the right, and with a mental push, flew in the opposite direction. Upside down, he watched Gentry pass by and crash into one of the nearby walls.

Ty landed on his feet right as Gentry pushed himself out of the crater he left behind. His hands took on their drill form and he swung wildly. Ty ducked underneath the first blow and pressed his sword into the second one, pinning it to the ground.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He leaned in close to his friend. “Cut this out, man. You're better than this, I know you are. You weren't made to be controlled, remember? Fight it!”

Gentry's only answer was a headbutt.

Ty matched Gentry's blow and stood his ground. The puppet tried to punch Ty, but he caught the fist with his free hand and held it firm. The thing inside Gentry's chest thumped harder as he summoned added strength that Ty struggled to match.

Ty glared at his friend's dead eyes and squeezed out the words, “Let's see what he's making you hide.”

With a flick of his wrist, Ty spun his sword up and sliced open the blanket. The crowd let out a gasp at what hid beneath it.

Where a human heart would be, a mechanical orb protruded from his chest at an odd angle, jammed inside without thought or care. Gentry's cloak swam around, each “heartbeat” actually its desperate attempts to break out of the device.

Ty wanted to yell and scream at San for creating such a monstrosity, but instead he channeled that rage into energy. He held his sword back and thrust it at the unholy creation.

The machine and the cloak beat ten times faster, darkness seeping out the sides of it—and then Gentry vanished. He reappeared at Ty's unguarded right flank. With one kick, Gentry sent Ty spinning out of control.

He didn't know which way was up or down, left or right. Normally he would have used his sword's power to cancel out the spin, but at that level of rotation he could easily make things worse for himself. He was at the mercy of gravity.

Strands of darkness sprouted up Ty's legs and took hold. They yanked him to a stop—his body at least. Ty's head kept right on spinning. He still didn't know which way the ground was, but Gentry right up in his face was hard to miss.

The strands pulled Ty closer, the puppet flipped forward and kicked Ty's jaw with both feet. The blow stunned his body, but helped orient his mind so he could see the ground far below him. A lot of good that did; he could only watch as he rose higher into the sky.

Gentry demonstrated his new-found speed again and appeared above Ty. His hand shot from its socket and gripped the boy's head, starting to reel him in, the mechanical heart beating faster as he approached. Darkness billowed out and twisted up Gentry's arm, meeting in the palm of his free hand.

The strands spiraled around the puppet's palm, taking on different shapes. First it was an oval, then a disc, a square, and back again. The strands possessed a mind of their own, unable to decide what shape they wished to become.

Gentry solved their predicament. His fingers sank into the blotch of darkness and froze them in a spherical shape. Their argument solved, they spun in perfect harmony until the sphere shrank to half its size—a condensed ball of tightly packed darkness that brimmed with power.

Ty's sword shook and glowed in response to the growing orb, but his body remained stunned. He had a feeling that his increased healing wasn't going to do much good this time.

Gentry's hand brought Ty the rest of the way up, and he plunged the darkness into his chest.

Ty blinked.

And suddenly Gentry was very far away, he felt unbelievable pain, and screams were all around him.

#

San watched, smug, as Ty fell into the stands and plush creatures trampled one another to get out of the way. Everything went exactly as he pictured it. Perfect.

Even if the boy did survive Gentry's attack, San doubted he could take another one. And then... well, he didn't know what would happen next, to be honest. He'd heard of the strange children who chose neither enlightenment (slavery, he added to himself) nor ignorance, but a middle ground. But before tonight, he believed it to be a myth, a legend, a lie.

But now... living proof. And if the children were real, that meant something else must be true as well: they had never been beaten.

The rumors went that, when a child made a third choice, San's (for lack of a better word) colleagues found themselves free of all restrictions and rules. Seeing no other options, they attempted to stop the child from reaching the door—some even tried to kill them in the process. Not a single one succeeded.

Until now.

San would kill the boy and go down in history.

He’d already decided.

#

Ty found himself in a familiar state. He didn't black out, not really, and instead went into the limbo-like place that protected him from the pain. This time, it kept him from feeling the grievous wound in his chest.

A wound that should have been fatal.

From his internal vantage point, Ty's consciousness examined the damage. His chest had a gaping hole in the middle of it, burned an ashy black. Before he got a good look at the gore, time in the center of the hole reversed.

Gentry's attack turned in a clockwise rotation as it dug into Ty's chest. Now, the wound spun counter clockwise, healing backwards faster than the damage had been inflicted.

Gaping hole taken care of, Ty's conscious mind slipped back into his body, and he became more aware of his surroundings... and the plush hands that carried him

“Hey, whoa!” Ty shouted, disoriented in his strange position. “Put me down!”

The crowd of plush creatures obliged and charged the rest of the way to their destination: the wall. They tossed Ty out of the stands and ran away in fear of retaliation.

Ty flipped and landed safe on the colosseum floor. He looked back at the stands, one lone plush creature still staring over the edge at him. Ty started to say something, but the creature tossed a cup of soda at his head and ducked out of sight.

It appeared it was impossible for him to win over any fans with the plush creatures.

He sighed and brushed a wet strand of hair out of his face. His shirt was soaked too, but before he could wring out the liquid, it began to dry on its own. Exactly like the wound, time reversed. And not only with the soda, but the rips and tears he gained from the fight repaired themselves as well. In seconds he was as good as new.

No, better.

Ty touched his chest and it was as solid as a steel wall. The healing went beyond merely fixing him, instead reinforcing his body to protect against future attacks. His whole body flowed with power as well as a realization: it had been growing inside of him even more, ever since he'd made his “choice.”

The change was gradual, unnoticeable until now. He felt... in control. Pieces aligned inside of his head and his thoughts became faster; the world around him slowed.

Gentry watched from the other side of the arena. Ty walked toward him, calm. He could save his friend.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind.

#

Things had taken a horrible turn for San. One moment he was celebrating his easy victory, the next the boy was on his feet, pulling off one amazing feat after the other. It was slow at first, a big jump here, a swift dodge there—but his powers escalated by the second.

He watched as the boy used his sword and speed to charge into Gentry like a spinning top. The attack bashed the puppet and threw him against the far wall. Before, he could hardly keep up. Now, he was beginning to get the upper hand.

San squeezed the arms of his chair, silently seething.

Gentry got back up, rushing Ty, and the two exchanged blows, the boy running backward. The puppet pushed his enemy against a wall, San felt a victory approaching, and—!

Ty continued on up the wall, meeting each of Gentry's attacks as they ran around the side of it. They moved so fast San's eyes could hardly keep track of them, the plush creature's moving their heads all around in a vain attempt to see.

San's grip tightened and the arms of the chair snapped into bits of wood. His guards looked nervously at him from the corners of their eyes and took a step to the side.

He didn't understand. Why was the boy this powerful? Where did his power come from? He would not—could not—lose. If the boy escaped, San would fail in the same way as all the others. He would forever be on the same level as them. Forever... unexceptional.

And that was simply unacceptable.