“What the hell were those balls of... whatever?” Katy asked. The kids crowded near the front as Mav drove them in the direction the robber had gone.
“The Joules?” Mav asked.
“The what?” Ryu asked.
“The Joules—that’s what I call them. Think of them as my own little...minions,” Mav said as if it were the most normal thing.
“That lightning was alive?” Santos asked.
“Kind of,” Mav said. He looked over his shoulder at everyone, trying to squeeze in to hear the explanation. “Guys, you need to understand that doing something like that isn’t very rare. Arcs can do amazing things. Alter life, change the molecular chemistry of objects, even make elements you control come to life.”
“How do you do something like that?” Katy asked.
“Practice,” Mav said. “At first my Joules were very dumb. However, as you all know, I can read brainwaves. It’s simple enough to replicate those for my Joules. They can be fairly autonomous. Those simple balls you saw were more like eyes. I could see what they saw, and I was able to search through the city pretty quickly until I found the right person."
“That-that’s crazy,” Samson said, awe in his voice. William agreed. William brought some light to his hand, and it began to shine. He was curious if he would be able to do something like that with his element of power.
“How do you-” Katy asked, but was cut off.
“This is not the time. Focus on the task at hand,” Mav said. “We need to get back to training.” That made some people groan. "I promise to dedicate an entire day to discussing the various monsters that the Arcs have created."
“Are there a lot?” Katy asked, perking up.
“Later,” Mav said. “It’s just up here.” He pointed ahead. William didn’t know the neighborhood. Given the state of many of the businesses and houses, the neighborhood appeared to be largely abandoned. This was a common occurrence in the city, and Will had learned to ignore the dilapidated parts of the neighborhoods.
He wasn’t quite sure where they were going until Mav pulled to a stop next to an old storage lot. The lot had small garages lined up in rows. The knocked-out overhead doors hinted at people tearing through them for resources. This, like many other businesses, was discarded when the new government took power. With no record of ownership, many had simply walked away or, more than likely, died.
“Where?” Samson asked, nudging them to get a better look through the small space between the front and back of the vehicle.
“Somewhere in there,” Mav said. "You're all fortunate that I didn't force you to find this person. So go out there and do your job.” There was a long pause. “What?”
“What is our job exactly?” Santos asked. “Do we like…beat the guy up?”
“Do whatever you want,” Mav said. “Just subdue and let the police handle it from here. You all plan an attack; I’ll call the calvary.”
William and the others shared a glance, but they got out slowly. Mav closed the door behind them and began talking into the radio speaker. “Sooo…” Samson spoke slowly. “Rush in?”
“I’m going in,” William said, perking up a little.
“Why’s that, Light?” Samson asked. The big man was still the only one using the nickname; most ignored it. Will found the nickname amusing, yet he remained focused.
“Just something Mav said. He’s right; I’m the fastest. I should get more practice. We all go in. I’ll find the guy, scout it out, and tell you all,” William said. His heart was practically in his throat as he said the words, but he meant them. He had been chasing Ryu around the city for a while, and he felt confident he could do this. If he had been more confident, Will would have phased to the crime scene, gotten there more quickly, and maybe given chase to the man who had stolen the ATM.
Samson frowned and considered. Everyone looked to him to lead, as he was the oldest. “Fine, we will head in. You see what you can.”
Will turned to the abandoned storage area. Mav was off the radio. Mav gave a slight nod of approval to William. That small nod did more for his nerves than Will would have guessed. With more confidence, he looked up slightly over the fence around the lot. Pulling out his light in a rush, he phased a good 100 feet away and 20 feet up.
When his sight came back to him, Will was in the air. As he started to fall, his stomach lurched, and he focused on a small light emanating from one of the garages. He pushed his power out again, opening his eyes to find himself right next to a light. Voices inside the lit-up garage, Will held his breath, and the sound of a firework going off sounded in the small building.
As a man shot out of the open door, Will's heart began to race. The attacked man fell to the cracked concrete, landing only a few feet from Will. He was big, and though Will hadn’t seen his face, he could guess this was the man who had stolen the ATM. Reminded of his ability to shrink objects, he took a step back as the man got up.
“What the hell!” The thief barked. “That’s mine-” He tried to say, but a small circular object struck his chest and exploded. This time the explosion knocked him to the ground, causing the man to cough as he fought for air.
“Mine now, innit?” A man said from the garage. William stepped back as the new person walked out of the garage.
“Oy!” The man barked, surprised, as he caught sight of Will. “Where’d you come from, eh?” He spoke quickly, each word rolling into the next with no pause. Will wasn’t too used to accents, but he guessed either Irish or Scottish. This new person was short. He stood at a height of only about 5 feet, 6 inches. He had bright red hair that was falling down his head in wavy curls. He had some old acne scars on his cheeks, tan white skin, and black jeans with a white shirt and a denim jacket.
“Uhhh,” Will said slowly. “Who are you?”
“Me?” The redhead asked. "I'm Irish," he said, adding a slight whistle to his name. At least William assumed it was his name, maybe he was stating his country of origin. The redhead reached into his pockets as he squinted his eyes. Looking back, Will saw his fellow trainees behind him. “Officers?” The man inquired, carefully examining their navy uniforms.
“Kind of,” Will said slowly as the others stopped beside him. Their plan hadn’t worked too well, but they were slowly adapting.
“What’s…going on?” Samson asked. His voice was nervous, but the big man slowly started to grow as he used his ability to become stronger.
“I was about to ask ye the same,” Irish said. "This is my home for now, and you lot have ruined my night's sleep."
“Yeah, we were chasing this guy,” Katy said, pointing at the guy on the ground. He didn't lose consciousness, yet his shock prevented him from rising. He kept looking away from them, as if he were about to run. In case he tried, Will kept his eyes on him.
“Well, this here, ijeeit, decided to bring me a present,” Irish said, pointing back into the garage. "So I'll be taking it, and then I'll be on my way." He moved towards the ATM just inside the small building.
“We uh-” Santos spoke, drawing the man's attention. “Can’t let you do that. That's essentially why we're here."
Irish eyed them all, then slowly moved his hands into his pockets. “So ye want to fight me for it, ay?” He asked.
“Not really,” Katy said.
“Yep,” Samson said, moving forward. With a smile on his lips, he looked a whole lot bigger than the last time Will had seen him use his power.
“Oh-ho-ho, big boy,” Irish said, stepping back a little. “It’s been some time since I’ve had a real fight. Shall we?”
“We shouldn’t-” Santos said.
“Are you keeping us from the ATM?” Samson cut in. Irish nodded with a smile on his lips. “Then we have to,” Samson said with a shrug, as if it were unavoidable. The group had been sparring daily with each other. Will couldn't help but feel like he wanted to test his skills against a stranger, too.
“All of ye fighting, den?” Irish asked.
“I-” Ryu was on the verge of speaking when Samson moved towards him. Irish pulled his hand out of his pocket and flung a small, bright pink rubber ball at him. It struck Samson's face before he could react. The supposedly harmless ball exploded instantly. Like a small firecracker, it wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to cause Samson to pause.
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“What the-” Samson said, but another small rubber ball was flicked at him. This one missed Samson and struck Santos. Irish rushed forward with the distraction, and the small man drew his arm back, hitting Samson hard in the gut.
To Will’s surprise, it doubled Samson over. Having hit him in the diaphragm, he had the wind knocked out of him. Will pushed his ardor out of his body and phased behind Irish. As Will moved to grab Irish in a chokehold, Irish dodged away. As he rolled, Will was struck by a small rubber ball. This one was a lot stronger. The impact felt like a kick to Will's chest. A fireball erupted from the bright neon green ball, propelling his head backward. Another explosion struck his knee, compelling him to retreat before the damage was too severe.
Moving a few paces away from his previous location, Irish began hurling additional projectiles towards the others. Not all were rubber balls. A few rocks in the mix didn’t explode, but they still made the others retreat. Samson was back up by then. Swinging a haymaker at Irish, the small man ducked under it easily, kicking Samson’s feet out from under him, then striking Samson in the chin.
Samson looked like he was about 7 feet tall by that point. He continued to grow and accumulate muscle, taking hits and throwing his own. Will could almost hear the wind of Samson’s blows as they passed overtop or narrowly missed Irish. The redhead had stopped throwing explosive projectiles. The two, forced to focus on the fight, engaged in an ever-moving battle of punches and kicks.
Samson finally connected with the slippery stranger. Samson knocked Irish to the ground, then moved over him to kick him in the side. Irish didn't stop, though; he used his legs on the big man. Samson was tripped and knocked down. Will was on the verge of intervening when he noticed the original target attempting to flee. With his body reacting, Will phased in front of him, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him to the ground.
“Hold it!” A voice yelled. Will held the man to the ground. Looking up, he saw Mav standing on the garage's short roof. The sound of the strong man's voice conditioned Samson to cease his actions. Irish, however, was not. Irish was trying to choke Samson out, grunting as his elbow attempted to squeeze around Samson's jugular.
Mav frowned. He pointed his finger like a gun, and a white streak of electricity shot out and hit Irish in the face. He yelped and passed out instantly. Somehow the electricity didn’t travel into Samson, so he was able to pry the Irishman’s arm away and get up.
“Make a new friend?” Maven inquired as the others recovered from the minor altercation.
“Hell no,” Samson said, catching his breath. “The guy was a psycho.”
Mav looked around, then focused on the now-passed-out Irish. “I like him,” he said. “Police are here. Will, give them that guy. Samson, grab the exploding kid. Let’s get his story.” With a frown, Will looked down at the man he was holding and gently pulled him up. Grabbing his thumb and holding it in a pressure position, he cursed as Will guided him away.
—
“You can quit pretending to be asleep,” Maven said. Irish was pretending to be asleep in the chair. He didn’t overreact, but one eye opened and then the other. His head rose slowly, and he smiled wide as his gaze focused on Mav.
“Hehe,” Irish chuckled. “This is a new one for me. Last time I was hog tied like this, cannibals got ahold of me. I heard it was bad here in Chicago, but are cannibals still active? I warn you, if you plan to eat me, I'm not the best tasting."
“I doubt that,” Mav said. "I've heard that eating Irish people brings luck."
“That’s a myth!” Irish said it instantly. “Barely half true. Besides, we taste like cabbage.”
“More like potatoes,” Samson said.
“Everyone loves potatoes,” Santos added. Irish let out an audible gulp. Cannibalism wasn’t unheard of during the Anarchist War, but it was something people didn’t talk about too often. Like many other atrocities committed during the dark year.
They were in the school’s auditorium, where they had all been tested in the past. Scattered around the stage, only Mav faced Irish. Samson was still complaining about having to carry the unconscious man inside, but Mav's orders were always followed. No one wanted to anger him more than they had to.
“I assume you’re all joking,” Irish said slowly. His accent was slight at the moment, but it was still there. His words were said quietly, and in a rush. WIll had to focus to understand them. “And from the looks you’re all giving me, I’m guessing…” He looked around. “Actually, I have no idea. Why did you bring me here? Wherever this is.” He looked around, scanning each of them one by one with an experienced glance. Will had a feeling this Irish guy was quite capable.
“First, I’d like to know who you are,” Maven said slowly. He continued to stand over Irish, judging him. The redhead moved his hair behind his ear as he studied Mav.
“Have we met before?” Irish asked.
“Don’t think so,” Mav said. “Come on, humor me. We saved you from getting arrested. Let’s hear your story.”
Irish chewed his lip, studying the old man. Then he shrugged and looked around as he spoke. “Not much to say. I’m from the ever-elusive Emerald Isle. Made the mistake of heading to the Americas a few years back, and was stuck here.” Will studied Irish; he looked around Samson’s age of 20. After performing some mental calculations, he estimated that the Irishman was approximately 15 years old when he found himself stranded here at the onset of the Anarchist War.
Many foreigners found themselves stranded here, with no viable means of returning home. As news of chaos in other nations persisted and the United States assumed new leadership, the majority chose to remain. Because it wasn't safe to take a flight home, these people were offered Citizen IDs, but they either postponed or forgot about trying to get home.
“You seem quite adapt with your ability,” Mav said. “I’ve been training this lot for a few weeks, but you.” Mav clicked his tongue, as if considering something. “Impressed me.”
“Ah, so ye’re all Arcs, then,” Irish said. “That explains the light show and big tank.” His gaze moved from Will to Samson. None of the others had really stepped in during the fight, so he hadn’t seen everything he could do, but to be honest, he had them all on the ropes during the short scuffle.
“Yep, where are you from to get experience fighting like that?” Mav asked.
“Ireland, as I said,” Irish said. “Me brothers were Arcs. Practically grew up with it. Up until recently, I found myself confined to New York City."
“Ouch,” Mav said. William agreed. New York was the first place that the Dragoons brought under their control. After the fact he heard New York had been about 10 times worse than Chicago. The Goons used it as a practice run for getting an uncivilized city under control. The Arcs had overused their abilities, resulting in a significantly higher death toll than required. By the time they got to Chicago, they had a method in place, and as William heard it, the West Coast barely had any casualties.
“Aye, ye don’t make it in New York without knowing how to fight,” Irish said. “After a little misunderstandin with the Goons a few days back, I decided to relocate.”
“To Chicago,” Mav said.
“Aye, I thought it would be fun,” Irish said. “But my funds ran dry. I thought me luck had turned when that man brought me a nice Covenant cash machine.”
“I doubt you could have gotten any money from it,” Mav said. He crouched down in front of Irish. “How would you like a job here instead?”
“Job?” Irish asked, looking at everyone. “Doin what exactly?”
“Chicago is devoid of Goons, something I’m sure you noticed,” Mav said. “I got looped into training a few Arcs to act as police when rogues like you show up.” Mav gave him a wicked grin. “Interested?”
“Being a police?” Irish inquired, sitting up straighter as he studied the elderly man. “Why would I want that?” He squinted his eyes, waiting for some kind of punchline.
Mav shrugged. “Don’t know. You’ll get a nice paycheck and a place to sleep. And I can train you to be a powerful Arc.”
“I think I can handle the last one on my own,” Irish said. He chewed his lip, thinking quickly.
“Maybe,” Mav said. “You performed well against my recruits. But if you pissed off the Goons, maybe you’d like to learn how to stand your ground against them.”
“...maybe I would,” Irish mumbled. He continued to think. “Fine, consider me interested.”
“Perfect,” Mav said instantly. “You’re in.”
“What?!” Samson growled angrily.
“What?” Mav asked.
“What about the tests we all had to do?” Samson asked.
“Eh, I think this one will do just fine,” Mav said. “There is no reason to test him.” He looked around at the others. “Well, it’s getting late. Irish, you can stay in Katy’s old bed. Everyone introduce yourselves and get ready for more training in the morning.” Without another word, Mav turned and walked away, leaving the group a little stunned.
“That was odd,” Irish said to himself. Will agreed, but let out a long sigh. There was no use fighting Mav, and he had to admit that Irish’s ability was interesting.
“I’m Katy,” Katy said from a few paces away. “I’m heading to bed.” She turned and left without saying another word.
“Ryu,” Ryu said.
“Will,” Will said.
“We call that one Light,” Samson added, trying to make the name stick. “But I’m Samson.”
“Santos.”
"I'm Irish," Irish declared when he realized it was his turn.
“That’s a nickname, I assume,” Ryu said.
“Aye,” Irish said. “My brothers gave it to me. Kind of stuck.”
“Got a real name?” Samson asked.
“I do,” Irish said, but left it at that. “What was that old fart’s name?”
“That was Maven,” Santos said with a sigh.
Irish stiffened. “Maven?” He asked. “The one with a $100,000,000 bounty on his head?” There was a long, stunned silence from those left in the auditorium.
The silence continued on until Samson, Santos, and Will asked, “What?!”