Xole flew back, sliding on the ground and hitting the wall with a ‘thud’. Catching his breath, he glanced up to see Spit-Take walking over and offering his hand.

  “You did better just now,” the homeless man said, helping him to his feet.

  Xole shook his head. “No I didn’t. I just ran again so it took slightly longer for you to take me down.” He looked off to the other Groundhogs in an emptied Zone 1. Abbas, Trix, Salamander, and Patchwork, all watched in exhausted anticipation. He looked back at Spit-Take, “How are you so strong anyways? I thought you just, y’know, like spat a lot.”

  The man grinned, “That means ya still got a lot to learn.” He tapped his chest with both hands. “It’s all about Gi. The better ya get at managing it in your body, the more you can dish out and take.” He tapped Xole’s chest, “And in your case, you did a whole lot better than when we first met cause now ya got Gi that seems to be movin’. At least a little more than before”

  “Moving? But I could use my Talent before, right?”

  “You could but your Gi was kinda like molasses.

  “Wait, it was that bad?”

  He nodded. “Cause of that you’d be gassing out quicker.”

  “Which explains your immense fatigue whenever you’d use your Talent,” Patchwork added. “Remember what we discussed in the lot the other day? About flow?”

  “And it wasn’t before…” Xole said. Yesfir’s words suddenly echoed in his head, “Hold on, is that why you had me blown up?!”

  “Yes,” Abbas said, “It seems putting you in a life or death situation did the trick in getting your Gi to start flowing again. Of course I based this off of Spit-Take’s battle with you.”

  Xole nodded. “Ok—wait, why’d you have to blow me up twice then?!”

  Spit-Take quickly scratched the side of his head. “Second time’s the charm?”

  Patchwork scoffed, folding his arms, ‘Your luck’s run out, Abbas. How’re going to explain this one?’

  Abbas put his hand on Xole’s shoulder, “Your Talent is very inconsistent. I knew you would be fine, but we really didn’t have time to waste.” He gestured to the rest of the empty zone. “Once we had that done, it was easy to discern how we would further train you with your current obstacles in mind.”

  “Oh,” Xole said, “Then I appreciate it, Abbas. Thanks a lot!”

  “I am glad you understand, young one.”

  Patchwork nearly fainted.

  “But I do have another question,” Xole said to the large man, “Is it possible Gi or Talent could be refined to a point where it’s way, way stronger. Like mastered…”

  “Nether of the two can never be ‘mastered’, just refined constantly to its fullest extent.”

  “What about something that like, goes beyond fully manifested Talent?”

  The man didn’t say anything, instead turning away from him, looking upwards. The other Groundhogs glanced in his direction, making Xole feel uneasy. “Or actually, I was just joking!” he quickly looked around, “Alright, who’s gonna beat me up next—”

  “Kid,” Spit-Take said, “That mumbo don’t exist.”

  Xole’s face twisted in confusion, “It doesn’t?”

  He nodded, “It was a ruse made up by White Collars. The idea was that forcibly pushing someone to near death would evolve their Talent beyond imagination.”

  Xole looked at the man, “But they got close, didn’t they?”

  “No, Xole, they didn’t.” Trix said, “Hundreds of thousands of work related deaths all continue to tie back to this practice. Not a single one ever succeeded.”

  “It is pure evil.” Abbas’s voice dwarfed the room, “An ‘incomprehensible power’ with a presence that can ‘fill an entire room’.”

  He turned around to the group, putting his sunglasses back on before anyone else could see his eyes. “The only thing that could come out of such a selfish desire for strength is more suffering. Men have gone mad attempting to defy nature because they think they are above it.” He looked at Xole in the eye, “Never come to that conclusion, young one. Do you understand me?”

  Brandon and Gus flashed through Xole’s head at the man’s words. He nodded, “Yeah. No I get it, you’re absolutely right.”

  Salamander smiled and smacked the back of his head, “Whelp with dat outta da way, who’s next?”

  Xole looked puzzled, “Next for what?”

  “For what you said, ta ‘beat ya up’,” He replied, jabbing air, “I’ve been tryin ta practice a few new moves anyways.”

  “Oh…so I’m your punching bag then?”

  “Aw don’t see it as dat!” the chain smoker said, putting his arm around Xole’s shoulder, “You more of a dummy really.”

  Patchwork nodded, “I agree. Xole, try to use everything you know so far. Let your body guide you.”

  Xole stepped back a few paces and bent his knees slightly, putting his hands up. ‘He makes it sound so easy.’ He thought.

  Salamander charged him in a single leap from the ground. Xole could see he was fast, but thankfully not as fast as Yesfir. He managed to step to the side and grab his arm and began to twist his hips to throw him. But then, he froze.

  ‘Wait…what do I do next?’

  Seeing that, Salamander grabbed the older boy’s arm and threw him instead with surprising strength. Xole skidded on the ground across the zone, rolling to his feet. He looked up to see the bright glow of a stream of fire flying in his direction. Grunting, he slightly bent his knees and swung his arms up at the flames, trying to remember how he stopped the sewer lid.

  ‘I was barely conscious,’ he thought, tensing his arms. ‘Not to mention she showed up. I need to do this without her dang it! This Gus’s Talent and all I’m doing is wasting it!’

  Xole watched the fire jet towards him, to which he strained his arms even more, causing them to quiver violently against the oncoming heat. He could feel his arms burn, as if he’d stuck his arm in an oven. His fingers clenched. A sharp cry escaped his lips.

  ‘I can…do it! I’m too close…c’mon, C’MON!’

  Gritting his teeth, he tensed his arms even harder, seeing them shake so hard sweat flew off. He could then feel the heat near him start to lessen, and the flames begin to slow and then, twist away from him. Trix, Spit-Take, and even Patchwork leaned forward, their eyes lit. Abbas looked on, his finger quickly tapping his cane. Xole tried to hold it, but could already feel as if his arms were going to fall off. He collapsed again on the ground. Salamander stopped his flames as the others ran over. He looked at them, panting.

  “Well…how’d I do?”

  “…”

  “Um, anyone?”

  Patchwork sighed, “This is proceeding much slower than I anticipated.”

  Trix nodded, “I really thought you had it this time.”

  Xole fell back in defeat. Spit-Take shrugged

  “Look, these things take time. Isn’t that right Abbas?”

  “…To be frank I thought we’d have passed this phase already. Especially considering the nature of this Talent, his progression should’ve taken less than a day to bring out his Aculty.”

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  ‘I wonder when they’ll remember I’m right here.’ Xole thought bitterly.

  “Young one, how did it feel?”

  Xole sat up, “This again?”

  “Yes, it is very important.”

  “Well it was painful.” He answered, “Tense, stressful, and very painful.”

  Abbas pondered, “Hmm.”

  “Maybe it’s time we take a break.” Patchwork suggested, “After all, we’re out of Gi bars again.”

  “Alright,” Abbas said, “let us take the good doctor’s advice for now. In the meantime there is something I must attend to.”

  “Oh,” Xole said, “can you ask Mr. Holdover if he can meet here real quick? He seems to know a lot and could probably help out.”

  “Mr. Holdover and his associate left hours ago,” Abbas said.

  “…Oh.”

  With that, the man strutted quickly out of the Zone. Trix unrolled a large blanket on the ground and the others joined her on it, digging into a picnic basket of food. Spit-Take motioned to Xole. “Well what’re you waiting for? Get over here and eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Xole said, staying and taking his stance again. He put his arms up. They were still numb but he didn’t care. He looked to a toppled chair in the distance and focused on it, clenching his fingers again.

  ‘Stupid Talent, stupid Mr. Holdover!’ he thought, gritting his teeth in the direction of the chair, ‘You know what? Who cares if he’s here or not? Yeah, even if I have to break my arms I’ll keep—’

  A hand calmly took his wrist, putting it down. To Xole’s surprise he saw Spit-Take.

  “Kid,” he said and gestured over his shoulder, “They’re missing you over there.”

  “…No there not,” Xole said, “You heard what they said, Melmar!”

  “Um, could you not call me—?”

  “What’s wrong with me?” he said, “I-I try as hard as I can to get this thing to work but for some reason…” he groaned, rubbing his temples.

  “You’re thinkin’ too much,” The man’s voice said. Xole looked and saw he was watching the others eat on the picnic blanket. Xole looked too.

  “Look, this ain’t gonna come quick,” he continued. “Just focus on the flow, remember? Think back to what Abbas said, kid.” He slapped his shoulder and squeezed it. “You gotta feel, at least that’s what I think.”

  Xole thought a moment. “You really think that’d do the trick?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded, “after you go refuel. Now c’mon, they’re waiting for us!”

  The older boy looked down, then, smiled, “Right!”

  The two quickly ran over and sat down with the rest. He was handed something wrapped in foil and immediately cringed at the thought of having to eat another Gi bar. But when he opened it, he was relieved to see several sticks of beef jerky. He began to stuff his face along with the rest. “Thso Twix—”

  “Xole,” Trix said, “What did I say about chewing fist?”

  He nodded and forcefully swallowed. “When you said earlier that the government was looking for people with above normal Gi levels, do you think that was related to the homeless disappearing today?”

  “I don’t think so,” She said and slurped on some cup noodles. “The issue with today is the people targeted are all homeless, but back then it didn’t matter. I suppose the only similarity is their lower living status.”

  “Then why?” he asked, “Wouldn’t slums and ghettos have weaker Talented anyways?”

  “Quite the contrary,” Patchwork said. He bit into a grapefruit, peel and all. “Doctors like us have discovered that overtime the human body’s Inner-Gi had grown misbalanced due to countless living conditions as well as evolving genetics, meaning different people have grown to produce more adrenaline and less spirit, or vice versa.” He took another bite. “Once in a while, those communities might produce a standout or two.”

  Xole watched the man chew. He then looked down. “They’d do all that just for a few standouts?” he said.

  Patchwork almost took another bite but stopped and put it down. “Talent users with Gi composition above seventy for either their defense, but usually offense, were invaluable assets to government superpowers since the late 1600s. Typically in wars, the defensive ones would act as bait, absorbing the enemy’s attacks to tire them enough for their offensive units to move in and eliminate the threat in minutes.” He looked at his fruit, “These sorts of battles always turned the tide of conflicts, up until the end of the second world war at least.”

  Xole remembered to what Shakar said earlier, ‘Not that again.’

  “But,” the doctor continued, “Ever since then there’s been an unprecedented amount of peace amongst the world—and while I am all for it—the government no longer sees fighting as a need among the common man.”

  “So they outlawed it,” Trix said.

  Xole was about to take another bite but stopped. “Wait, then what are they now? Extra muscle?”

  “Pretty much,” Spit-Take said. He cracked open a can of soda, gulping it down instantly. “Anyone with Inner-Gi composition like that nowadays gets the esteemed privilege of being drafted, monitored, jailed…or something else.”

  “Boo!” Salamander said, tossing a handful of potato chips in his mouth.

  The ski capped man sighed. “Hopefully your friends can get to the bottom of all this.” He took out his green pass and began looking at it.

  Xole didn’t say anything, instead he stood up. ‘Let’s train again.”

  “Again?” Patchwork said. He shot a glance to Trix, who returned the same skeptical look. Salamander crumpled his empty bag of chips and leaned back, avoiding eye contact.

  “C’mon guys what’s wrong?’ Xole said. He clapped his hands, “C’mon get up, get up, we don’t have all day!”

  “I gotcha kid,” Spit-Take said, putting his green pass away. He shuffled to his feet and stuffed some gram crackers in his mouth. Him and Xole walked back and stayed fifteen feet from each other. He pointed to the older boy’s sides, “See that?”

  Xole looked only to see some empty cardboard boxes and trash bags near him, “It’s just trash.”

  The ski capped man shrugged, “Well you know the saying. One man’s trash…” he spat on the box to his right and left, then to the trash bags just at his feet, “…is another man’s grave.”

  “Hey—hey, hey wait a minute—!” Xole said, “I thought we’d be sparring again?!”

  “Oh don’t ya worry, this’s part of it too.” He said, “But ya got a few second ta make up your mind. So, any ideas?”

  Xole gulped and took his stance, ‘This is just like when we first fought. Though now I’m completely on my own here so…’

  He jumped over the trash bags as the boxes behind him exploded, then the bags shortly after, but by then he’d already darted from them, ‘Just as I thought! While he can control its duration, his spit still only explodes in order to where he fired!’

  He ran around to the man’s back and jumped at him with both feet to his chest, but the homeless man was short, short enough to literally duck and avoid his drop kick. Xole quickly rolled to recover, in time to see a shot of spit to fire between his legs and behind him, with another two at his front. The older boy grinned.

  ‘I’m starting to get it now,’ he thought, jumping forward again ‘Once I can keep track of where he spits first—‘

  “Xole, no!” Trix cried out.

  “What?” Xole looked down mid-jump to see the saliva glowing bright. For that brief instance, he could feel a strong pressure throb throughout his body.

  ‘Wait, that’s not right…’ he thought.

  ‘SPLURT!’ ‘BOOM!’

  The explosions sent Xole flying through a row of tents. He examined himself, and moved his fingers. His head still spun, but his body surprisingly moving. He then noticed he was covered in a cold white substance.

  ‘I’m not hurt?’ he took a whiff of what was on him, ‘And why does this smell like…?’

  “That was far too close,” Patchwork said. He jogged over to him with the other three. The doctor wore a large vacuum cleaner-like contraption on his back with tube at the front, which he held. “It’s a good thing I anticipated another fumble and came prepared.” He pointed at the older boy, “I sprayed you with a special ointment that mimics the durability of Bodily Talent. That’s why you’re safe—oh, and you’re welcome.”

  “The pop up wasn’t gonna hurt him anyways…” Spit-Take said under his breath.

  Salamander and Trix helped Xole to his feet, who found it difficult to stand. “Why do I feel so out of energy?”

  “Because you technically are,” The doctor answered, “as good as this ointment is, it is completely reliant on how much Gi the patient who uses it has, as well as how much was used.” He thought, ‘Though now that I think about it this probably could’ve killed him too.’

  “Here!” Trix said, stuffing a Gi bar into his mouth, to which Xole gagged, falling back to the ground at the taste.

  “Huh?” Salamander was slack jawed, “How ya still got one?!”

  “I found it in one of the destroyed tents but it was super squished,” she said, “I’ll just tell them it was destroyed along with it.”

  “Ha!” Salamander laughed. “I’ll bet Snap woulda lost his mind seein’ da same shit happen ta the same kid twice! Too bad he ain’t a morning person.”

  Xole fought through tears to swallow the dry tasting Inner-Gi bar. Spit-Take watched, thinking to himself. The doors to the Zone swung open, Abbas lumbered in.

  “The arrangements have been—” he cut himself off, looking at the sight before him. “Did something happen while I was away?”

  “Kind of,” the hunched man said. He looked around everyone. “But I was thinking, and I think we outta bring the kid on out next mission to the surface.”

  Salamander, Trix, and Patchwork looked at him, then each other. Suddenly, they grabbed him and shifted away from Xole, huddling in the doorway with Abbas.

  “You don lost ya mind!” Salamander said.

  “What are you thinking?!” Trix said, “He can barely even keep his arms up!”

  “Logically speaking, the only benefit would be real world experience,” Patchwork said. “But it’s rather obvious the risk far outweigh the benefits.”

  “Well that’s where you’re wrong.” Spit-Take said. “I saw it. The kid’s fight or flight only works when he knows he’s in trouble. I think that’s why his Talent kicked in the first time we tussled, but not the second.”

  “In other words,” Abbas said, “It’s not something he’s consciously aware of.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  “Then that’s even more of a reason not to bring him!” Patchwork said. “This is precisely why I suggested we call the Network. We can’t rely on the boy, he’s too inconsistent!”

  “Maybe River’s is right this time,” Trix said, “We may’ve overplayed our hand with Xole.”

  Spit-Take raised an eyebrow at her, “So you’d rather rely on our ‘friends’ in Salem then?”

  “Well no but…”

  “What she means is we scrapin’ da barrel’s bottom here.” Salamander interjected, “Me personally, I dink we can do betta, a WHOLE lot betta!”

  “And I’m saying this is as good as it’s gonna get!” Spit-Take shot back.

  “Well den I’m gonna say we can’t take da risk!” Salamander said.

  “I can’t believe it,” Patchwork laughed, “Salamander’s actually making sense for once!”

  “Only ‘cause he’s agreeing with you!” Spit-Take said. He looked back at Abbas, “Abbas c’mon, you of all people were the one to suggest we do this in the first place and—and we’re just too close.”

  “Don’t put that on him!” Trix snapped, “Now you’re being plain selfish, Melmar!”

  “Me?!”

  “CEASE!”

  Abbas’s voice boomed, rumbling the entire Zone. The Groundhogs felt simultaneous chills run through their backs, silencing them. Even Xole felt it, a strong presence, as if a bear had woken up in the middle of hibernating.

  Abbas stood up from the rest of the Groundhogs. “We have secured contact with the rest of the Underground Network. We are all leaving, now.”

  He turned and let for Prime Hill, the rest quickly following after him. Xole sat on the Ground, just looking on. Spit-Take turned back to him. “Well, what re ya waiting for? C’mon!”

  “Yeah,” Xole said, climbing to his feet. He followed the group, trailing from behind them. “Yeah…”