“You need to stop coming home like this, Xole.”
Xole winced, feeling the sting of vodka on his nose. To no one’s surprise, Gus had successfully gotten him home by speeding, swerving, and drifting in ways Xole thought wasn’t even possible, and that was all before he could even put his seatbelt on; hence the bruised face from smashing into the windshield twice. Now he was sitting on his kitchen table as his babysitter did her routinely ‘post-drive’ clean up with her favorite drink. While she was technically his legal guardian, she insisted everyone know her as his sitter.
“I know, I know, Yesfir,” Xole told his scowl faced sitter. He took out a wad of cash from his knee pocket. “At least he compensated me again—a little birthday bonus, actually.”
The six foot tall woman could only sigh. She wiped her blond curls from her fair skinned forehead and downed most of the vodka before dumping the rest on a cloth and pressing it on Xole’s face, careful not to get any on her black pants.
He began to cry out, “ARRRRGGGHHH—!”
“Good money,” she said, ignoring his screams, “is no replacement for a good body. Just because your friend’s so reckless doesn’t mean you need to go along…though I have been telling you this for years now.”
Xole felt a smirk spread across his face. “I guess that makes today—OWW!” he stopped smirking. “I GUESS that makes today special! Since you’re keeping track of years after all.”
Yesfir took the cloth from his face and sat on the counter a few feet from him. She reached into the cabinet overhead for more alcohol only to find none. Cursing in Russian, the woman unbuttoned the top three on her tight blue shirt and crossed her legs. She leaned against wall.
“Yah?”
“Wait, you really forgot?” Xole asked. He got off the counter and retrieved an extra bottle of vodka he kept hidden inside the vase of flowers she sat next to. “Starts with a ‘Birth’ ends with a ‘Day’? If you say ‘I don’t know’ I’m dumping this, you drink too much anyway.”
“Oh come now, Xole!” she laughed, letting her head droop to her shoulder. “Don’t give that look of course I remember a day this special!”
She ran her fingers under his chin. Her alluring gaze captured him as she slipped the bottle from his grip. Xole stared, entranced by her amber colored eyes. Against his better judgment he couldn’t help but find her attractive. She always wore light make up, which complemented her platinum blonde and black rooted hair, which slightly covered the sides of her face. As he observed her well-rounded figure, his mind began to run with all types of thoughts before remembering the age gap and stepping backwards.
Then again, it was his birthday.
“Actually, since it is your birthday…” Yesfir grinned.
Xole gulped. “Yes?”
She began to reach behind her. “And we have plenty of time to ourselves…”
‘Is this really about to happen?!?!’ Xole’s mind raced a mile a minute. His body shook with anticipation. His teeth almost began to chatter and his back began to sweat.
“Think fast,” she said casually, throwing her vodka bottle had him.
Xole stifled. He should’ve known this was coming. Quickly, he caught the bottle with both hands and looked down, expecting her to uppercut him to the ceiling like she usually would. This time, she wasn’t there. Before he could move, he felt her legs cross around his calves, swiftly slamming his body to the floor as the bottle flew from his hands and back to hers. She rolled on top of him.
“Still too slow, still too stiff.” She said, sitting on his back. “Not to mention your emotions are still out of control. Perhaps even more so now.”
“Maybe it’s because I HATE systema or whatever you call this sporadic training regime you do?!” He huffed back from under her, “I told you like a thousand times already, this isn’t gonna help me manifest any Talent and frankly I don’t want one at this point!”
“And I’ve told you a thousand more times why this style is perfect for you.” Using her Talent, she took out a cigarette and snapped her fingers under the bud creating a spark to light it. Taking a puff, she leaned her head back exhaling.
“Xole, like manifesting Talents, systema is designed to draw out all three levels of human abilities. What’s the difference between having Bodily Talent and developing a strong nimble healthy body? Or focusing on your utilization of combat skill like Material Talent? Hell, even the focus on one’s mind and soul lines up perfectly with Spiritual—”
“This is great and all, but can I breathe please?” Xole wheezed. Yesfir quickly stood up and pulled him to his feet. She took her place back on the counter with the vodka while taking another puff of her cigarette. Xole dusted himself off, shaking his head. “Look I get what you’re saying, but I don’t possess Talent, and I doubt taking martial arts will help me gain anything I haven’t already tried to get. If that were the case, anyone would do it.”
The young woman sighed, “If anyone could do it, it wouldn’t be Talent.” She pointed at his chest. “Potential, Xole, it’s all about drawing out your inner potential. It’s because so many piggies think that way they don’t get anywhere. But you’re different. Your lack of being confined to a single Talent only gives you more room to grow into the perfect one. She pulled him close by the collar and caressed her fingers to tidy his hair. Her excited eyes widened as she stared into his. “Isn’t it exciting?”
Xole disliked these conversations. The “potential” she always spoke of seemed to only grow the more they talked. The thought of such power churned his stomach, why couldn’t she just be happy with something standard. Better yet why not just buy another shotgun? To distract himself, he looked at her gaze, only to feel the lecherous thoughts creep up on him again.
“Whelp,” he said stepping back, shaking his head. “I gotta grab something nice for Gus’s party soooo…I’m gonna be upstairs for a bit. Also, can I have a sip?”
“You aren’t of age.” she replied, downing the rest of the vodka.
“But I’m eighteen today!”
Yesfir stopped abruptly, gagging and coughing on her drink.
“Twenty-one, Xole!” she panted, “I meant twenty-one!”
He grumbled, heading down the short narrow hall to his room, “’I could drink whatever at eighteen’, she said.”
Xole opened the door to a dull-blue walled room lined with bookshelves topped with piles of travel magazines. Old games and art supplies littered the floor of the small room that was, at best, twice his size in length and a-him-and-a-half wide. He carefully made his way through the floor to his desk on the opposite side in front of the one window. He opened the curtains, taking in the familiar smog-covered view of the suburbs and City Bridge in the distance. While the neighborhood wasn’t known for having the best conditions for living, it wasn’t the worst place for low income earners. He sat down and went to work on his most prized possession, his worn green scrapbook, something he’s been working on for years. While consisting of images of himself, Gus, and Yesfir, there was a section he’d held off on working on until today. It was him when he had just turned five, and standing adjacent on each side were a man and a woman, hands on each of his hands with their heads just out of frame.
“Missed my birthday again.” he spoke flatly to the picture. The image of his parents stared back at him, mockingly, the same way it was for the past thirteen years.
“You can’t ignore me forever. I’m—I’m gonna find you and when I do…I want answers. I just want to know why you—”
The sound of the door handle jiggle followed by a knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Xole?” Yesfir asked, “You left before I could give you your gift…”
“I’m uhh, getting dressed—yes! I’m not dressed yet!” he lied locking the door, hoping to get some peace and quiet. To his alarm, the door handle jiggled even faster.
‘What the heck? She’s worse than usual today!’ He thought, just as the door swung open. She pounced into his room like a cat looking for mice. Her eyes almost seemed to have a glow to them. Once she’d realized she’d been fooled, she regained her composure so quick that if Xole hadn’t been watching in shock he never would’ve known it had happened.
“You little rodent!” she grinned, “I thought you knew better than to tell stories.”
“And I thought you taught me it’s okay to lie if your life ever feels engendered.” he fired back with a grin of his own. He quickly shoved his scrapbook under the pile of litter on his desk.
She snapped her fingers beneath another cigarette and leaned against his doorway. She took a puff. “You’re reminiscing on your parents, no?”
Xole took a brief pause. “I…was thinking that now I’m eighteen that I’d dedicate all my time into looking for them, especially with school out of the way soon.”
“Do you even know where to begin?”
“I’ve made a list of common locations they’ve been to based on all the stories you told me of them back when you used to be just my sitter.”
“I still am,” she replied, taking another smoke.
“You know what I mean,” Xole said, “I’ve mapped out and budgeted places that I’d start investigating. Now I think one was all the way on the west coast…”
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“You and what funds?”
“The funds from my ‘disability’, remember?” he said. Yesfir began to laugh as he went on, “I mean whatever brain deficiency they think I have, I did pretty good at playing the part. Heck, my grades this year are just as bad as last year!” he laughed along with her.
Yesfir put her cigarette away and sat on the bed. Her face changed, “Xole, enough of this. You’ve been at this since that day. It’s time you’ve buried this burden. Remember they abandoned you—”
“Yesfir, even if you’re right and they did…abandon me, I just want to know why? Why did they have to go? And why did I barley know them?”
“And I told you over and over again, I don’t know,” She said, “Xole, they were poor—dirt poor.”
“Yeah I kno—”
“And despite that, they always did their best to support you one way or another. Then one day they up and left…” She shook her head, “Xole, wherever they went, whatever happened to them it’s not worth your time and energy.”
“You don’t know that! I was pissed when they left too! I mean I still am, but I can’t just leave it at that. Something’s off I can feel it!”
“Xole, I said enough!”
“Yesfir…please. I need this.”
The younger woman stayed silent for a moment, contemplating before throwing up her hands and bowing her head with a sigh.
“Alright, you win. I’ll help you with anything—and I mean anything—you need.”
“You mean it?” he beamed.
“As long as you promise to take your systema more seriously.”
Xole almost gagged, then, sighed. “I guess that’s fair…”
She smiled and produced a flat black and white box with a black bow from behind her, “But first, and most important, you. Happy birthday, my love.”
“You really need to stop calling me—” Xole cut himself off in awe, recognizing the brand on the side of the package. “Wait is this from the outlet store? Yesfir, these clothes cost—”
“Nothing is too expensive for you, my precious. Now hurry and put it on!” she spoke, gesturing her hands to the box.
Immediately Xole began fiddling with the ribbon, trying his best to undo the complicated knot. Yesfir watched, biting the side of her lower lip. She began to rock left to right in anticipation.
‘What is taking so long?’ she thought, ‘Did he simply forget we have scissors in the kitchen?’
“Sorry,” Xole chuckled in embarrassment. “This knot’s so tight I—”
‘RRIIIIIIIINNGG’ the sound of the telephone could be heard from around the house.
“Damnit!” she exclaimed angrily and ran out of the room, “Hold off on your gift until I return. Then we continue systema until you leave!” she called out.
‘”Can we not?” he tried, but she was long gone.
With a sigh he sat the box next to his bed and he noticed she’d left her own phone where she was sitting. To his alarm, it started to vibrate. Without thinking, he snatched it up and began tossing it from hand to hand as if it were a hot potato.
‘I really shouldn’t—but what if it’s important? No, I really should leave it to her…’
Before he knew it, he’d already finished typing in her password just as the buzzing stopped. A pop up message immediately caught his eye:
M.I.R.S
“Yerzakovich? That’s Yesfir’s last name! Who is this weirdo? Maybe a secret boyfriend, but why’s his name so awkward looking?” Xole asked himself, scrolling through past messages:
M.I.R.S
Yesfir
Please stop referring to him as an ‘it’. Can you not see how special he is? Far too special to be treated as the rest.
M.I.R.S
Progress…Yerzakovich, progress.
Yesfir
Approximately four days he was feverish with chills but much better on the fifth and complexly healed on the sixth.
‘How do these people know I get a fever every year? And why is it being recorded? What in the world’s going on here?! Nah, this has to be some kind of joke…it has to…’ his stomach began to feel woozy as he kept reading:
M.I.R.S
A yearly improvement is adequate. We assume the subject is still unaware of its identity?
Yesfir
He suspects nothing. Though as he grows it will become harder to keep it that way. The boy is awfully paranoid.
M.I.R.S
That is of little concern now. Does the subject still lack Talent?
Yesfir
Yes.
M.I.R.S
Excellent. Keep it prepped and ready for when the time comes.
Yesfir
I know
M.I.R.S
Yerzakovich…
Yesfir
Understood
Xole blinked as he noticed the numerous text logs by the same number, at least five hundred of them. His arms shook as he stared at the phone, wide eyed.
“…What the actual fu—”
“XOLE!!!” Yesfir shrieked angrily standing at the doorway, scissors in hand.
He dropped the phone and backed up to the wall as she leaped forward, snatching her phone and running through it. He took the opportunity to dash from the room and head to the living room. His head raced, his heart throbbed, and he began to feel dizzy.
‘This…is why you shouldn’t look through other people’s phones!’ his mind scolded him as he gripped the couch, trying to catch his breath. ‘That wasn’t our usual welfare or state checkups! No, it was something bigger? The government? Did she sell me out to the government? But wh—’
“Xole, wait,” Yesfir’s now calm tone spooked him from behind.
He nearly fell back as he saw his sitter standing across the living room from him. She slowly made her way with her hands up shoulder height.
“It’s not what you think—”
“Then what is it?” he demanded, “Cause it looks like you’re talking to some government loon!”
“You don’t understand—”
“Is that why you don’t want me to look for mom and dad? Does this have something to do with them?!”
“Xole—”
“TELL ME!”
“Enough!” Yesfir exclaimed grabbing his shoulders. Looking into his eyes, “You will compose yourself! We’ve known each other for eleven years and I would never, EVER, do anything to hurt you! You understand? I am on your side, Xole, you know me better than most.”
Xole looked away, trying to avoid her gaze “I want to! I—I really do but—”
“Come here,” she said, embracing him in a tight hug.
He tensed at first, but then felt his body begin to give and let go in her arms.
“They were government agents, Xole,” she said, “and they’ve been watching us since I became your legal guardian. They think…you might have a Bodily mutation that inhibits Talent growth in you. In short, they want to take you away.”
Xole was stunned. He knew bodily mutations were not only rare, but had disastrous effects on Talent users which caused many to undergo illegal methods to have their bodies suppressed. The government was also keen on tracking down those with such a rare phenomenon.
‘Is that why…I can’t manifest Talent?’
Finally, he took a breath. “Anything else?” he asked, hoping she’s say no, “Something you’re not telling me?”
Yesfir smiled, fixing his shirt. “In the car, you don’t want to be late.”
________________________________________________________________________
“I don’t know,” Mr. Holdover repeated sounding confused. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re a mess.”
“And…whose fault…is THAT?” Shakar spoke stumbling to his feet. He leaned against the wall while holding his head, “I don’t know why you love to hit people so much but one day—”
“Xole,” The boy said solemnly, “My name’s Xole. Now please don’t kill me.”
They both now noticed him sitting against the wall in the massage parlor. Mr. Holdover had turned on the T.V to drone out any ‘outside noise’ during their so-called meeting. However, something about the kid was different. His whole demeanor had changed. He wasn’t jittery or anxious anymore, he sounded regretful.
“You ok boy?” Mr. Holdover asked him.
“You’re just going to forget that I saw you flying punch him from outside the window aren’t you?” Shakar said, looking at his lost noodles on the ground.
Xole stood up slowly and reached for his phone. The screen was full of cracks but it was still usable. He noticed his reflection looked a little odd.
“Where my eyes always green?” he asked examining himself. He noticed the two and turned to them. “Look, sorry I tried to run off but you can’t go kidnapping people like that, ok?” he said sounding more understanding.
“That was a whole lot different than how you were a few hours ago,” Mr. Holdover said, “And what do you mean ‘ok’? I don’t even KNOW you—”
“If you wanted to kill me you would’ve.” Xole said calmly while squeezing his phone. “We should try again on the right foot—”
He cut himself off and jabbed the phone into the man’s neck sending an electrical current into his neck. He then shoved Shakar back to the ground just as he was getting off the wall.
“Sorry kufi guy!” Xole turned behind him, that same grin spreading across his face “Birthday’s to attend, sitters to apologize to!”
He ran to the back door and put grabbed the handle, but before he could open it a shiny dress shoe stomped on his hand pinning it to the door. Xole howled in pain, reeling back in horror to see Mr. Holdover there with an unstable looking grin of his own.
“H-how?” Xole stammered “That was three hundred thousand volts!”
“Oh, really?” the man said pressing his foot deeper into his hand. “Will that get you to stop running?”
As Xole shut his eyes and accepted his fate, a news report form the T.V suddenly boomed through the room:
“Thank you for joining us again at Big Apple news tonight as we begin with our developing story at Amesworth. Several hours ago, two unidentified men had broken into Amesworth International, stealing and assaulting staff and security before fleeing on foot. Thankfully no one was seriously hurt but the experience was described as “traumatizing” for many.”
“Don’t worry,” Shakar told Mr. Holdover, whose eyes were now glued to the TV, “Anyone could’ve done that, right?”
“One of the men are described as a black man with a lighter complexion believed to be in his mid-30s wearing a stolen white dress shirt and a black tie, black dress pants and shoes. He has messy hair and a foul mouth. Please be wary as he is erratic, violent, and very dangerous. We believe he possess the Bodily Talent.”
“I didn’t steal shit,” Mr. Holdover retorted to the non-responsive TV, “And what do they mean ‘mid thirties’?!”
Shakar began to giggle, “Sounds about righ—”
“The other man is described as an illegal immigrant, milk chocolate skin, wearing an African hat and dress with bootleg military pants and stolen timberland boots. He is believed to be in his early 20s and described as much more passive but still to be seen as much of a threat as his partner. He more than likely doesn’t have any Talent.”
“HAHAHAHA!” Mr. Holdover laughed with his tongue out at Shakar, “All they missed was con-man!”
Shakar just clenched his jaw into a smile and turned the other cheek.
But it was Xole who laughed the loudest of all.
“AHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, suckers! Now you’re really gonna get it—!”
“This marks the second attack at Amesworth International in less than a week. For those unaware the CEO, Brandon Amesworth, and his son, Gus Amesworth, were attacked last night by a classmate of Gus who claimed to be his “friend”. In the confrontation Gus was killed by the attacker who then committed suicide as the father begged him to stop. Truly a tragedy.”
The TV played footage of the standoff. Gus lay there on the ground face down, while Brandon was yelling something at Xole, who just stared on before falling backwards off the building. The older boy could only watch in horror as the screen showed his friend’s photo with the text ‘DECEASED’ under it while his had the title ‘MURDERER’.
“W…wait a minute…” Xole stammered. He slowly raised his finger to the T.V. “who’s…that?”
Mr. Holdover and Shakar exchanged confused glances with the older man opting to go first, “Uh, pretty sure that’s you.” He said.
An eerie pain shot from Xole’s chest to his ears. He grunted, turning his head in pain, “No…no, no stop lying!”
“Eh?”
“I said quit trying to trick me!” he yelled, “I’d never do that to Gus!!”
“Hmm,” Shakar said, “I suppose being an angry man and a con-man is nothing compared to that of a murderer.”
“SHUT UP!” he cried, and began backing away from the two. His eyes began to swell with tears as his body began to shiver. “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him I—I SWEAR!”
‘But why then?!’ his mind raced as he tried to recall back as far as he could, ‘The only thing I remember from that night was…’
Gus’s bloodied face flashed into his mind so fast it made his head ring with sharpness, leaving him oblivious to the wall at his back, which he smacked into. He slid to the floor. His head pounded as the images grew clearer.
‘Stop!’ Gus cried, yelling at him, ‘Stop it!’
‘The child known as Xole was about to attack your son,’ A female voice spoke, standing before him. ‘Shall I dispose of him?’
‘Screw you!’ he shouted.
“…”
Xole slowly brought his hand to the center of his chest where he was shot. A single sob escaped his lips.
‘Why…why didn’t I just die?’
Then, a shadow went over him, and a hand was brought to his face. Xole slowly raised his head to see the messy haired man standing before him, blocking his view of the TV.
“Hey,” he said, “That’s enough.”