“It’s party time!”

  Gus clinked his glass of ginger ale against Xole’s cheery grape as the penthouse came alive. Bartenders were serving happy guest as heavy metal blasted from the speakers. People were talking, dancing, and laughing. Mr. Amesworth himself seemed to be having a good time, much to Xole’s surprise. Everyone was enjoying themselves except for their escort, Anastasia, of course.

  “Gus, the woman with the hair, why’s she even here?” Xole asked, motioning to Anastasia at the other side of the room. He downed his drink and grabbed another.

  “Security, duh,” Gus replied without a second thought. “Notice her necktie?”

  “It’s red, so what?”

  “She’s a Red Collar, dude! How’s that not both reassuring AND exciting?!”

  Xole blinked. “Red Collar? Are they descendants of the Red Tails or something?”

  Gus stared at his friend for a moment as if it was his first time seeing him.

  “My man, you are looking at the FINEST—and I do mean finest— security. These are actual government workers who are known to be absurdly strong with their Talents! Some are even thought to have them fully manifested! The amount of work these people have done is INSANE—”

  Gus stopped to take a drink, gulping it down so fast it spilled from his mouth. Xole squinted at his friend.

  “Work? Wait what is ‘work’ supposed to—?”

  Gus gulped. “OH, and get this, I’ll even be able to have my own squadron of them one day!”

  Xole spat his drink out, coughing violently, “Your own…WHAT?!”

  Gus put his arms behind his head. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it myself, buuuut my dad told me once I manifest my very special Talent I should hire personal security in case some wierdo comes. Like the guy who got Sam and…yeah in case something bad happens.” Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “HEY, maybe you can be like an advisor to them or—”

  “No, no, and no!” Xole shook his head, waving his hands in front of himself. “I do not want to be anywhere near them nor need that kind of responsibility and frankly you shouldn’t either, especially with shady government workers.”

  Gus’s brow creased. “Shady?”

  Xole paused then shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “My guy, not gonna lie, you’re losing me.” Gus yawned, glancing outside at the last remnants of sunlight as overcast began to overtake the city. “You should have some more faith in the folks who keep that cheery grape in your hand. Not every conspiracy’s true. I mean my dad works closely with the government. Hell, folks from The Capitol are even here dancing! But they all must be evil to you, huh?”

  “I mean, with the way their moving…” Xole began before turning back to Gus. “I just wish you wouldn’t be so complacent sometimes and for once you’d just—I don’t know—THINK! Think that maybe your actions may have just a few consequences not only for me, but yourself!”

  Gus’s face changed to a glare, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You always act like your invincible, Gus! Your driving, your habits, and now you’re telling me that your dad hired a—a glorified hit woman?! And you’re just ok with it?! It’s gonna get someone hurt or worse.”

  Gus folded his arms, stiffening up. “Your point?”

  “…I’ m worried for you, man.” Xole said more solemnly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re turning eighteen today and I can tell it’s a lot of pressure, not to mention all the responsibilities turned your dad’s hair gray prematurely…which you followed for some reason. All I’m saying is it’s ok to take a step back and breathe. Not jump into things head firs—”

  “Opportunities? Pressure!?” Gus gawked, yanking off his glasses. He threw Xole’s hand off. “Screw off, Xole! Maybe its cause dad actually sees that I have a future and doesn’t want me to waste my Talent! What’ve you done these last eighteen years besides complain about authority, huh? It’s a thing your own folks should’ve taught you called growing up!”

  Xole felt as if he were punched in the gut, “Hey, Gus, I didn’t mean—”

  “I mean it’s bad enough you never got past the fact that they left you, but how about keeping all that self-wallowing to yourself!?”

  “People are starting to stare—”

  “Oh! Maybe you’re just jealous cause my father didn’t leave me with some Russian broad who—let’s face it— would rather blow shit up with the KGB than play unlucky parent number three with—!”

  Xole, without a second thought, grabbed Gus’s collar with his free hand. He felt the glass slip through his fingers as his other hand balled into a tight fist, swinging it towards the noise, the awful noise of his friend.

  Then it stopped. Inches from its target.

  Xole quickly looked to see Anastasia holing his wrist with one arm, squeezing it tightly as she scowled into the depths of his soul. Gus looked at him, processing what had just happened, his eyes turning wide with shock. The glass crashed on the floor, sending a silence across the entire penthouse. Everyone now had their attention on the altercation at the bar. Xole could feel a lump forming in his throat.

  “People, people! What’s the matter?” the sound of Brandon’s footsteps broke the silence as he stepped in between the three.

  “The child known as ‘Xole” was about to attack your son, Mr. Amesworth.” Anastasia reported, maintaining eye contact with Xole, “Shall I have him disposed?”

  Brandon chuckled. “Dispose for what? A little rock ’em sock ’em between boys?” He pretended like he was boxing as he spoke. “Miss Roosa, I thought we made it clear, you’re supposed to watch for actual criminals. Unless of course, kids are on your paygrade now to which I must say you’re doing a fine job!”

  The crowd began to laugh, bringing life back to the room. Anastasia dropped Xole and stormed to the back with a low growl. Gus looked like he was going to say something, but Xole turned his back to leave.

  “Everyone!” Brandon announced, “Sorry for my little friend’s fiasco her English isn’t the best. Regardless please make your way upstairs to the back room. The main event is about to begin!”

  As Xole made his way to the door a hand was placed on his shoulder. He jumped back only to see Mr. Amesworth standing there, hands up.

  “Whoa, take it easy buddy! I’m not gonna hurt you like the woman. I just want to know what’s wrong. I mean you and my boy are so close and you’ve never missed a birthday.”

  Xole took a good look at Brandon Amesworth; he didn’t seem any different today than the whole time he’s known him, gray suit, silver hair, thick glasses, and pasty skin. He seemed like a concerned father, not an evil businessman. Xole could feel guilt creeping up his stomach.

  “Mr. Amesworth, I’m sorry. I said some pretty awful things about you and Gus got mad, rightfully so, but he said something and…I couldn’t stop myself.” Xole confessed.

  “He brought up your parents, didn’t he? Brandon spoke, unbothered. “Yeah, I heard a bit of your conversation, Gus will go low when you go high I’ll tell you that much. Xole, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you, but at the very least this is a big day for not only your friend…”

  His voice trailed off as he reached behind him, producing a small present box. He handed it to Xole.

  “But for you as well.”

  Xole took the box and opened it, pulling out a small blue cell phone with several holes on the top of its rim.

  “It’s from Gus and don’t worry he already activated it for you,” Brandon said, watching Xole turn it on. “He thought you needed some form of protection since you didn’t have any Talent, so he bought you one. Three hundred thousand volts worth.”

  Xole thought for a moment, staring at the phone before offering it back.

  “Thanks Mr. Amesworth, but I really don’t need—”

  “Oh no, no,” Brandon shook his head. “Please keep it, Xole. My son can be a handful, believe me I’m his father, heh. But understand that boy will need someone as cautious and as well thought out as you for when he takes over the company one day. I know I’ve been putting him under unnecessary pressure, and I want to do better as his father. Believe me I really do.”

  He gave Xole a little smile and patted his shoulder. He then turned to leave.

  “I’m just saying, it would mean more to Gus if you were there than if I was.”

  Brandon left Xole alone at the door. Xole watched him disappear up the stairs. His hand squeezed his phone.

  ________________________________________________________________________

  “And you sure he said he’d call off the cops?” Mr. Holdover asked.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what he told me,” Xole replied. He could tell the man was unconvinced. Still, he had to find out what happened to his memories and to Gus.

  The drive back to Empire City was much quicker than the drive from, despite the charred burnt police cruiser limping across the empty rainy streets. As the Amesworth building came into view, Xole began to reach into the bag for the clothes. Mr. Holdover kept his eye on him, tensing every time he pulled out a piece of apparel.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “Ah, sir,” Shakar said, “The road is ahead.”

  The older man hunched over the steering wheel. “And how do we know she didn’t lace the clothes with explosives too?!”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  Grimacing, Mr. Holdover rolled his eyes and glanced out the window. Not a single car was on the street.

  ‘Seems Bran’s kept his side of the bargain,’ He thought to himself. ’So far at least.’

  “Alright, here’s the plan.” He began as they pulled up to the back of the building. “I’m gonna go in, beat the shit out of anyone I see, then drag Brandon’s sorry ass out to call his bluff. Everyone clear?”

  “…What the hell kind of plan is that!” Xole sat up abruptly from the trunk seat “What about me and kufi—”

  “Shakar, its Shakar”

  “—Shakar gonna do?” he continued seamlessly, “I thought we were gonna split up! Divide and conquer—”

  “Yeah no, you’ll just hold me back. Besides, you can’t even fight.” Mr. Holdover said.

  “Yeah, I can. My sitter taught me how to defend myself with Systema.”

  “The same one who abandoned you?” Shakar asked before Mr. Holdover whacked him over the head with his fist.

  “He’s got a point, though,” he said.

  “So then WHY did I get hit—?”

  “Besides kid,” he continued, “you didn’t really do much back at the parlor when those assholes shot up the place. What’re you gonna do when some same loon points a gun to your face? ‘Cause it’s gonna happen. This is a multibillion-dollar corporation we’re dealing with. Did that psycho bitch of a sitter train you for that?”

  Xole winced at the sound of the word. “I’m not sure how that all correlates but listen; Amesworth wants to see me. Get it? This plan depends on me getting in there—”

  “This isn’t your plan, kid.” He grouched, “Now you can listen, or I can knock your ass out again.”

  “Sir, wait.” Shakar spoke up again, “To best preserve information, wouldn’t it be best if we brought him along? You got us out pretty easily last time we were there and if our plan is attack then we should take full advantage of the opposition’s need for Xole. We could make this into a sort of ‘Trojan horse’ like scenario.”

  “A what?”

  “…Never mind. Apologies, Xole, I tried.”

  “This is stupid!” Xole slammed his fist on the seat. “There is absolutely no reason why I can’t go in unless…unless you don’t trust me. You think I’ll join his side just to get my friend back, don’t you?”

  Mr. Holdover let out a sigh. “When people are offered something they can’t refuse, what’d you think they’d realistically do? Do you really think this man’s doing this for you, or himself? Ask yourself, kid, ‘what am I about to sacrifice’?

  ‘Sacrifice?’ Xole’s mind raced. ‘Would I really deny the opportunity to save him…no matter the cost?’

  “That’s why I’ll bring you along.” He continued, much to Xole and Shakar’s confusion. “I want—I need people who can put up with me, people like you,” he gestured to Shakar, “even people like him. People who don’t want the easy way out. People who’re tired of putting up with the world’s shit. People who are ready to fight back.” He got out the car, his voice still audible. “I’ll admit I didn’t trust you. Maybe I was right, or I was wrong.” opening his door, he offered his hand. “So I’ll leave that decision up to you, Xole.”

  ‘It’s all on you.’

  Xole’s own hand trembled, his arm ached, and his body felt weighted beyond belief. Yet, for some reason, he found himself shaking the man’s hand.

  ‘No going back.’ He told himself.

  He stepped out and checked his clothes. His hoodie was thin, but loose; high necked and white, with black dripping from the collar and shoulders down to the zipper and pockets. He now had gray, baggy shin length shorts with the same black dipping past the pockets. Under that were white socks and black sneakers.

  “Yesfir always kept extra clothes in my closet,” he said more solemnly, “Looks like she forgot some.” He glanced to Shakar. “Oh, and uh, kufi—Shakar, I do hope that school goes through, even if you can be a jerk sometimes. I—well…yeah I just hope it all works out.”

  Shakar smiled. “I know it will. This broke curse-slinging meathead will owe us big time after this!”

  With that, he ran full sprint with Mr. Holdover yelling right behind him and Xole struggling to catch up as the three made their way back to Amesworth.

  There was an odd eeriness in the building upon entry—almost too quiet. The lights were off, as if the place were closed despite its regular hours. It was as if any living soul had left the building just minutes prior.

  “This place is dead.” Xole said, ‘Dang it! Is Amesworth even here?’

  “This is what you call ‘a trap’.” Mr. Holdover said, leisurely stepping around the place. He noticed none of the damage done earlier was repaired. The shattered glass from when he and Shakar leaped through the window, even the crack in the ground from when he jumped out still seemed too fresh.

  Shakar didn’t say anything at first, opting to run around the perimeter only to return shortly after, shaking his head. “Nothing but the same ‘broken’ cameras under suspicious piles of rubble.”

  “How many cameras you find?” Mr. Holdover asked.

  “Four.”

  “Funny, I only thought we damaged the front of the building, not the whole thing.”

  Suddenly a loud voice from a PA system boomed from above.

  “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME ALONE, XOLE!” a cracked, familiar sounding voice screeched, “THIS WAS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT!”

  “Ha, dumbass!” Mr. Holdover laughed with his tongue out. “Looks like Bran’s trapped here with us!”

  “I think you mean, you’re trapped here with us.” Another cocky sounding voice came from the outside.

  The three turned quickly to see Bob, Right, and Left enter shoulder to shoulder from the broken front entryway. The moonlight illuminated their silhouettes, making them seem much larger as they loomed over the large room. Bob stepped up, smirking.

  “Looks like we meet again, Holdover, third times the charm, eh?”

  The older man glared. “…Who were you again?”

  “What—WHAT?!” Bob nearly shrieked “HOW DARE—”

  “Don’t bother, Bob” Left said, “He’s just trying—”

  “He’s just trying to rile you up, thank you Left!” Right interrupted quickly. He adjusted his sunglasses. “Mr. Amesworth, do we proceed as planned?”

  “YES!” the voice still boomed, much to everyone’s distress. “ELIMINATE THE TWO PREDATORS! DO WHAT YOU MUST IN ORDER—”

  “SHUT THE HELL UP!!!” Mr. Holdover yelled hurling a chair at the PA system causing it to explode, falling to the ground in a burnt heap.

  Right contemplated the problem. He knew the three of them could stop the African, but the Holdover individual was a whole other issue. Regardless, their goal was simple.

  “Remember, bring the boy. Nothing else matters. Got that?”

  “Yes SIR!” Bob exclaimed saluting.

  Left just gave a little smile with a nod, deciding it best not to even try.

  A wince of annoyance crossed Shakar’s face as he reached for his kufi, then adjusting it.

  Xole gulped.

  In an instant, Bob charged the three like a bull. Left fired at them, automatic weapon in each hand as Right shot at the corners, bullets ricocheting all over the room a few even hitting Bob, not that he seemed to notice. Out of the corner of Mr. Holdover’s eye behind him he saw Xole trying to get out of the way but was too slow. Shakar was already extending his beaded staff, but the room was too wide this time unlike the parlor. They had no space to evade. In that moment, he craned his neck with a huff.

  “Duck!”

  Shakar immediately grabbed Xole, taking them both to the ground as the older man whipped off his bet and spun it around the three of them. Its radius expanded, nearly covering the entire room as gunfire ricocheted off its growing shape. The belt twirled so fast it began to take the form of a large black sphere, tearing into the ground, walls, and ceiling, tearing into everything in its path. Right and Left shrieked as their own bullet bounced out of control around the room, stumbling back to cover. Bob turned to his companions for a mere moment and in that instant, Mr. Holdover leaped out of the black sphere cramming, his foot into his chest. Bob howled in pain as the man twisted his leg, sending him spinning and flying back in an aerial tumble, his arms and legs catching Left and Right, taking all three crashing through the coffee machines against the wall.

  Mr. Holdover turned back to the two. “Get to the top. I’m pretty sure Bran’s about to scram after his Talent’s taken out!”

  “You heard him!” Shakar said pointing to the stairs. “I know a shortcut, c’mon!”

  “Hey!” Xole exclaimed as Shakar began to pull him away, “What about you?! We need you!”

  “What you need to do is listen!” the angry man nearly yelled, watching the FBI recover from his attack. “Did you ALREADY forget what I told you earlier?!” He decided to attack again before they could fully recover. Just then however, there was someone at his side.

  “No.” Xole said confidently standing side by side with him, “I didn’t.”

  Mr. Holdover froze, just staring at the older boy. He let out a sigh and grabbed him by the top of his head.

  “Kufi,”

  Shakar turned from the stair shaft, his eyes widened.

  “Lock the door behind you if you have to, and make sure no one follows you up.” with that, he threw Xole across the room into the stair shaft towards Shakar with a ‘CRASH!’

  Xole groaned. “Hey uh, thanks for breaking my fall,” he said. “Now we need to go back—”

  Shakar put his hand over Xole’s mouth. “Up. I think you mean ‘up’.”

  Xole looked up. He was beginning to remember why he took the elevator coming up this forty-story building. Then he saw Shakar extend his staff, pogoing off of it and spinning it sideways to catch both ends on the stair rails. He swung up retracting the staff before repeating again. By the time Xole realized he was already halfway up.

  “I have a rope!” Shakar said, voice growing fainter, “Just hold on a minute!”

  Xole looked back at the door.

  ‘I can. But can Mr. Holdover?’

  “You won’t get lucky a second time!” Bob shouted at Mr. Holdover from across the room “Left! Right! Hurry up and get up before—”

  Before he could finish, Mr. Holdover was already in front of him again, fist clenched.

  ‘Why’s he so quick—?’ Bob could barely finish thinking as he was cracked across the face. He gritted his teeth and turned, only to get hit again on the opposite side. Bob grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and yanked downwards, however Mr. Holdover quickly grabbed Bob’s biceps, tucking his knees into his chest and kicking into Bob’s, shooting the man into a backwards skid. But this time, he slid across the room on his feet.

  “Trying to overwhelm me ain’t gonna work, thug!” Bob shouted gleefully, “I can eat anything you dish out, even that last trick when I was caught by surprise!”

  “Which one?” He shot back darting around to the man’s back. He leaped to attack just as a spray of bullets pelted his now defending forearms, forcing him back to the ground. He looked over to see Right had recovered, and behind him, Left was mounting a heavily modified automatic machine gun to the ground. He began to fill it with rounds of glowing red ammunition.

  “Had a feeling you were resistant!” Right said reloading his own gun, “Good thing these shots pack a punch for you Bodily types!”

  “Sir!” Left looked up “It’s about ready—”

  “Good.” Right said. He turned his head, “Keep him at bay, Bob. I’ll be here in case he squirms loose again!”

  Mr. Holdover’s eye briefly shot to his forearms to see they were bruised. He could feel the sting of the shots beginning to come through.

  ‘Fuck! He thought, eyes trying to keep track of the three. ‘I was trying to keep them separate, now I gotta put up with their bullshit combo attacks! Guessing guy to the left’s device could actually kill me once it hits. IF it hits…’

  “Alright, I give up,” he said and raised his arms. “My hands are up. I surrender to the almighty elite. Don’t shoot.”

  “HA! You think we listen to that crap?!” Right yelled enthusiastically, “Bob, restrain him! Left, light him up!”

  “But sir!” Left sputtered, “That’s in violation of comma—”

  “JUST DO IT!”

  Left cried out, raising a large machine gun with a reddish hue to the chamber, and firing it into the direction of Mr. Holdover just as Bob grabbed at him. Holdover almost gasped. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

  He simply ducked.

  “ARRRRGGGGHH!!!” Bob yelled as bullets tore into him, his flesh morphed and bent, stumbling back before falling to the ground.

  “NOOOOO!” Left cried, unaware of the man behind him “Bob, I’m sorr—!”

  CRACK!!!

  As Left’s unconscious body hit the ground, Right stared in horror.

  He had to run.

  As he pivoted he saw Mr. Holdover standing right in front of him.

  “S-stay back!” Right cried, unloading the rest of his bullets on him. However, he moved to the side just out of his field of view and grabbed his face, crushing his sunglasses, and slamming him through the floor. Right gagged, blood spurted from his mouth. He looked at all three, he spat.

  “Idiots, fucking idiots.”

  As he stared at the men a sudden chill shot down his spine, freezing him in place. He felt his blood run cold as his eyes widened. He could feel a familiar sensation overtake his body. He looked at his trembling hand.

  ‘This feeling, dammit that’s impossible!!’ his eyes immediately darted around the room to the stair shaft, ‘And if that idiot did listen…’ He opened the door to see a pile of destroyed stairs blocking the door, pilling well above where he could see. He cursed, shooting his head around the wide lobby.

  He had to find a way up—and fast.