D glanced to his side and back to his book, sketching one more. “I’ve been on the outs with Haven. Not to worry my friend, this isn’t the first time I’ve been kicked out. I can probably help you—”
“You’ve been on the ‘outs’ alright,” the older man replied, still looking off. “Was it after you brought that fucking Red Collar down there?”
The sound of his pencil came to an immediate halt. The younger man froze, looking up to see Mr. Holdover facing him. He then smiled weakly, “…I suppose it’s a bit late to ask if you at least got the notebook?”
“OF CCOUSE I DIDN”T GET THE FUCKCING NOTEBOOK!! What are you gonna do now?! Summon another government fuck to fight?!!”
“It wasn’t like that—” he cut himself short and took a breath, climbing to his feet. “I just needed inspiration—something to push my art further than I could ever think.” He turned to him. “That’s why I asked the Red Collar to kill me.”
Mr. Holdover blinked. ‘…Huh?’
“And he was supposed to!” the younger man exclaimed. He grabbed his head and tapped it with his fist. “But I should’ve known better—I shouldn’t’ve believed M.I.R.S would take me seriously!”
He eyed him. “Then why? What was the point of it all?”
D glanced to his side at him. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Mr. Holdover. I never hated the Groundhogs. Abbas, all of them were my family. I loved each and every one of them. I cried when I saw what happened that Wednesday. But I—I also knew at that very moment what I needed…” He looked up; a tear fell from under his hair covered face.
“Passion.”
“P-p-passion?!!” he boomed, “You’d—without a SECONED thought—sell your own folks out and betray EVERYONE for passion?! Fuck off!”
He winced, “I know it sounds weird. But I’m pretty sure Abbas told you about what I—”
“I don’t care what the fat fuck said—you’ve got no right putting your damn obsession over people!!”
“I’m not addicted!” the younger man snapped suddenly, his gaze sharpened in his direction. He jabbed his pencil at him. “When I was younger—when all I could think about every morning were the drawings I didn’t draw, the sights I couldn’t see, the dreams I couldn’t dream—that’s when I was lost! I never knew why I felt that way and no one could tell me!”
Mr. Holdover muttered under his breath but kept his mouth shut. ‘The way this guy’s sounding,’ he thought, ‘could the boy be on his way too?’
- Clark stared at him, his wide eyes visible under his hair. He gestured his shaking fingers to his chest. “Passion is what saved me. It reestablished by life and revealed who I am. The day I realized my art was more than just drawings on a page…”
Mr. Holdover carefully watched him reach into the back of his sketchbook and pull out a drawing, peering downward and aiming his pencil at a dark, detailed sketch of a tube shaped organ mid-burst.
“The world is my canvas.”
“…Ok. Are you happy now?”
“Wha…?” The man looked puzzled, “What?”
He started towards the younger man. “You know what I said,” he continued, “If ‘passion’s’ supposed to bring the best out of you, then why the hell you’ve done nothing but hurt the few people who gave a damn about you?” He stopped just a few feet from him, hands in his pockets. He leaned his head forward. “Tell me, kid, at this very moment has your ‘passion’ made you happy?”
D could only avert his eyes to his notebook once more to the drawing. Mr. Holdover watched him stare, the younger man’s face grimaced, gasping chuckle. He wiped his eye and tried again, harder. He nodded.
“…I’ve never felt better.”
Mr. Holdover could only look at the younger man. Then with a sight, he turned his back and started off to the road. “Good luck, kid,” he said.
“Are you happy with what you do, Mr. Holdover?”
The older man stopped, sighing. “No.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Look I don’t really know, okay? I don’t think that hard about this shit. If I know I can fix something, I’ll do my damnedest to do it.” He started off again. “All you need is a motive, kid. Leave all that extra shit to the side.”
The wind picked up, casing a piece of paper to hit his ankle. Cursing, he shook his leg first before peeling it off but before he could toss it, something caught his eye. A detailed sketch of a filthy trash filled street sandwiched between a couple run-down buildings. A cat stood atop the overturned trash can and meowed before scampering off at a sudden bark. The older man’s eyes widened—but D. Clark was nowhere to be seen.
…
Haven, next day:
“Again, Xole!”
Xole bolted, sliding and jumping around the set of explosives Snap set, bolting towards the end of Zone 1. An array of bladed weapons flew towards him, but Xole slid under, letting his body guide him. Suddenly, a group of four Blue Collared trash bags popped from the Ground. Out the corner of his eye, Yesfir nodded and he immediately outstretched his arms to hold the first cop in place and quickly threw him into the other two while the last one ducked and fired high powered pebbles at him. But Xole was ready this time. Feeling his legs surge with Gi, he leaped over the cop and twisted a kick into the side of his head, knocking the dummy over and sending the boy straight towards his destination.
“And…clear!” Trix called.
Xole panted his arms weak. “How’d…I do?”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Patchwork looked at the stopwatch on a foldable table with his medical supplies, “A minute and two seconds. Pretty good seeing you haven’t completely burned out
“And its da second time ya cleared it.” Salamander said, “Dat’s a big achievement!”
“Trix patted him on the back, smiling at him. “It’s your best time yet. You should be proud.”
Xole gulped down a Gi bar, “I sure wish my body felt the same.”
Snap came in from a large tent in the back, his arms filled with traffic cones, letting them fall in front if the group with a grunt. “Aaaalrighty then! What we got next? Ooh, maybe an obstacle course!”
“Yeah!” Salamander laughed, “And I can light it up too!”
Abbas suddenly strutted into the Zone quickly, his face serious, “Everyone gather, the news is urgent.”
The Groundhogs all went to the table and surrounded it, their attention on the large man. “I’ve finally got in contact with my source again.”
Everyone was quiet.
“And he’s told me the transfer isn’t as delayed as we’d hoped so,” Abbas continued, “It’s happening tonight.”
“What?!” Snap said, “So they only delayed it by a day?!”
The large man nodded.
“You sure this isn’t another trap?” Patchwork said. “Y’know, so we don’t end up like—”
“Even if it was,” Abbas said, “tonight would be our last chance regardless. Our enemy knows even without their Bodily force, we aren’t at full strength ourselves.”
“Abbas,” Trix said, “What are you saying?”
“…”
“We’re not leaving him!”
Patchwork shrugged, “Trix, we need to be realistic here.”
“What your being is unfair!” she said.
Salamander shook his head, “As much as I can’t stand da guy, he’s still one of us.”
“We’re out of time,” Abbas said, “And with Spit-Take still recovering…”
“I’ll do it,” Xole said, much to the Groundhogs surprise. “I feel like I’ve gotten a better grasp with my Talent since the bank. And he needs help.”
“Xole,” Trix said.
Salamander laughed, cigar hanging from his mouth, “I like dat, y’know? I really do!”
Snap grinned, slapping him on the back. “Well Abbas, looks like we’re still in—”
“No, no, NO! Now you all hold on a minute!” Patchwork said, waving his arms. “His body is not to be exerted at all right now! Besides after the bank we can’t risk another accident.”
Abbas stared at Xole’s eyes. The older boy could feel as if the man was peering straight into his soul, eyeing him inside and out. But he didn’t care. He looked right back at his pitch black sunglasses, to which the large man cracked a smile, nodding.
“He’s ready.”
Patchwork’s eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t protest.
“But,” he continued, “We’ll have to further expedite your training, young one.”
“Expedite my training?” Xole said, “But I thought I had the basics down?”
“Oh, you do…sort of,” Abbas said, “We know you have Spiritual Talent, and when you become unconscious your body accesses its latent potential. But what can you really do?”
Now Xole was completely lost. His face said it all.
“I’ll put it simply; Salamander is Bodily Talented and because of that he can breathe fire. Trix is Materially Talented and because of that she can manipulate her variety of bladed weapons. Both have honed those skills for years to perform such feats.” Abbas held a finger up on each hand, waving one. “The honing of these special skills is what’s called ‘Talent Aculty’.”
“And all the cool moves and tricks they do are the techniques!” Snap interjected excitedly. He suddenly gasped, “Oof! Sorry Abbas.”
“Not a worry, Snap. In fact I’m glad you mentioned that because that is what this training session will be focused on.” He nodded to Patchwork, who moved the table to the side. The rest of the Groundhogs began moving the tents and other belongings to the sides, leaving Zone one as a large barren space. Xole looked around and clapped his hands.
“So,” he said, “how am I supposed to expand my arsenal of ‘cool tricks’?”
“Well you must begin with wanting to do something ‘cool’.” Abbas replied, “Ask yourself this question, young one; how can I use my Talent to further my purpose?”
“My purpose?” Xole thought a bit, “Well I want to help people, and I can reach out and…I guess ‘grab’ stuff with my—I guess spirit…”
“What about that move you performed where you’d throw yourself at them?” Trix asked.
“Yeah!” Snap agreed, “That looked really cool. Maybe you can try to like, reverse it and throw things!”
“Maybe,” He sighed, “But there’s gotta be more than that.”
A rough hand was suddenly slapped on his shoulder. Xole looked up to see Salamander at his side, grinning.
“Take me fo’ example,” He said pointing to himself, “Dere’s nothin’ I love more than ta roast folks who act like dey bigger den dey are. So I light ‘em up.” He laughed, “Literally!”
“Oh,” Xole said, “So you had some kind of experience that made you hate those types of people then? And you want to use your Talent to prove them wrong?”
The man stopped laughing. His face slowly fell to a frown.
“Or you just like to eat a lot of roasted foods, right?!” Xole said quickly, laughing, looking around him. “I mean I love roasted potatoes, roasted corn, roasted nuts—ok, not those—but I’m trying to say you’re not alone here—”
“Nah, ya fine, kid,” The man said, lighting his cigar. He took a long puff and looked over to Abbas, “Aight, how’s we gonna do dis?”
“We’ll start by teaching him the standard techniques.” Abbas spoke. He looked to Xole. “We’ll begin with the Stuttered-Step.”
“Stuttered-Step?”
“Yes. In sports, notably basketball and football, the player would shift their feet quickly in a moment’s hesitation, creating a fake-out and throwing their opponent’s flow off. But as you’ve seen—”
The man’s large figure vanished. Xole gawked
‘Wait, how? I swore I didn’t blink!’
“—we can use it for high speed movement has well.” Abbas finished, standing behind Xole. The older boy jumped at the sound, twisting behind him in awe. He slowly pointed.
“How do I do…that?”
“The cones,” Abbas said, gesturing with his cane to the cones Snap had left on the ground. They had all been set up in a tight zig-zag, stretching from one end of Zone to the other, each one a foot apart. He motioned to Snap, “Snap, since you’re still the slowest, I’ll have you show him the foundation.”
The younger man rubbed his flushed face. “Aw, Abbas you shouldn’t have…”
The rest of the Groundhogs moved to the sides and began fighting amongst themselves in the back. Xole watched Snap step to the front of the cones and stretch his legs out. He whistled.
“You seein’ this, Xole?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, then. Watch this!”
His body shifted ever so slightly, his feet instantly became a blur on the ground and took off, darting from one cone to the next in a flash, leaving a trail of dust behind. Xole waved it away, coughing and looking for the young man—only to see him at the end of the Zone waving at him. He was slack jawed.
“That fast?!”
“Yep!” Snap called back. “Check out my tracks.”
Xole looked down to see a cluster of foot prints, as if dozens of people had been cramped in one place, yet none had even touched the cone. He looked off at the rest, seeing the same pattern of clustered steps swirling left to right from cone to cone. Snap came back to see he was still looking in astonishment. He smacked the back of his head.
“Ok, ok that’s enough gawking I ain’t even that good yet,” He said. “Now you give it a try.”
“Right,” Xole said. He stepped to the front of the bright orange cone and put his arms out, spreading his legs shoulder-width apart and slightly bending his knees. Snap made a face.
“Uh, what are you…”
“It’s fine. It’s my stance,” He said. “Now um…how do I do it again?”
“Shift your feet,” He said, “Like your trying to see which foot can stay off the ground the quickest. Remember, short and choppy steps.”
“Ok…” Xole said. He began shifting his feet in place, feeling his whole body shake and stutter. ‘Oh now I remember this, gym class! I always go the lowest scores—’
“Remember to use Gi!” Snap called out.
“Oh, right!” Xole said. He envisioned his legs, watching the cloudy aura fill it. Xole suddenly felt himself rock side to side, nearly losing his balance and shooting his arms to the sides. He stole a brief glance to see his legs moving faster than he’d ever seen, as if it were becoming a continuous blur of movement.
“H-hey!” he said, “I’m doing it I’m really doing it!”
“Great!” Snap said, clapping his hands, “Great work Xole!” he squatted next to him and pointed to the other side of the Zone, “Now put it in action! Run through those cones and get right back here!”
“Got it!” Xole grinned giving a thumbs up. He leaned forward slightly, “Now if just need to take one step to my left—”
‘SQUEAK!’
His sneaker hit the concrete and twisted, sending him blasting through half the cones, knocking them flying into the air, before he abruptly spun to the left and slamming through the wall.
“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Snap’s face of excitement turned to horror, “Xole?”