Abbas and Xole sat atop a tall building in downtown. The endless mobs of people and cars below could be heard conversing and rushing home to beat the falling sun. A few buildings across from them was Amesworth; letters missing and boarded up, already showing signs of neglect. Xole found the sight was familiar to him.

  “That’s where it began, didn’t it?” Abbas said, looking off at Amesworth.

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Xole said.

  “How does it make you feel?” he asked.

  “…Overwhelmed,” Xole said. “It was probably the worst day of my life.”

  Abbas looked to the older boy, then back at the building. The two were quiet, watching a flock of pigeons fly by as the cloud of haze began to settle.

  “Is that important?” Xole asked. “How I feel?”

  “Yes,” Abbas answered, looking at him. “It is very important.” He looked off again. “The feeling of one using their Talent for the first time is a feeling that never fades. It becomes part of you, shapes you to your core.”

  “Yeah,” Xole said, “that’s what trauma does to you.”

  “Trauma?” Abbas said, “Now who told you that?”

  “Um, Patchwork,” Xole replied, “He said that’s what triggers Talent Manifestation.” He looked down to his hand, “The unshakeable feeling of regret…it’s something we as people never want to experience again.”

  “…I see. I suppose I must ask then, why did you use your Talent in the first place?”

  Xole tensed, remembering Brandon’s machine. “I had no other choice. It was my only chance at survival.”

  “Then why are you upset?” Abbas said. “Your Talent didn’t make your life, it saved your life. It shouldn’t be seen as trauma, but rather glory.”

  “But my friend died because of it! This wasn’t even my Talent, it was his! He gave it to me because he trusted me and—and I ended up killing his dad.”

  The large man pondered briefly. “Gus Amesworth, that was you friend.”

  Xole looked at him.

  “It all makes sense now. His manic father would go through extreme lengths to force Talent evolution upon others. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised his son was no exception.”

  “He just wanted control,” Xole said. “Yet he always spoke about power and evolution. His machine was made to do that, forcefully make people undergo this, ‘True’ Manifestation’, for Talent. And his first test subject was…was Gus.”

  “Trauma,” Abbas said once again, “Your answer is more clear to me now. If that is all you know, then that is all you will see, Xole.” he stood up, “Which is why you must learn to un-see.”

  “What are you…?” Xole looked over to see the large man pacing to the corner of the building. He got up and followed him.

  “This machine that could manipulate ‘evolution’ was nothing more foolery. The Talent we have is what we have. There is nothing beyond that. To become ravenous with lust for more of this ‘power’ is what brings on this trauma.”

  “I…don’t get it.” Xole said.

  “It’s what Patchwork failed to understand,” Abbas said. “Being driven to avoid facing trauma is what blinds you to what makes your Talent special in the first place. However, when you understand the light it brought you, then, you can come to grips with your being. But it must start with un-seeing this trauma.” Abbas turned his attention towards Xole.

  “You need to let him go, Xole. Gus may be dead, but his will is with you.” He tapped the older boy’s chest. “That’s why I believe he granted you this gift.”

  “This…my Talent is a…gift?” Xole said.

  The large man nodded slowly, “A gift with limitless potential.”

  Xole ahead, “Hey, Abbas,” He said, “why me though?”

  The large man seemed amused, “Why not you?”

  “Well, am I really the only Spiritual Talent user you’ve run into? With how much you, the Groundhogs, and this whole ‘Network’ have done, weren’t there other ones you’ve at least shared your ideas with?”

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  “The few that are still around are either in hiding or with other Groundhogs.” Abbas said. “I’ve only personally known one other, but he is a child.”

  “Guess this Talent really is rare,” Xole said. “But do you really think it’s enough to stop the police? I mean what if they have Spiritually Talented users of their own?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Abbas said, “before that, we had no chance, Xole. Possessing Spiritual Talent of our own is what gives us a fighting chance in the first place. A chance to make this city right, make it equal again.” He looked back to him again. “Is that something you’re willing to fight for?”

  “Everyone has the same opportunity?” Xole said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Despite all the horrible things they’ve done in that past? Should they really be allowed to have the same chance as those who’re innocent?”

  “Innocent?” Abbas said. “What gives you the right to deem one as ‘innocent’ or ‘guilty’?”

  “Well, let’s say there a murderer and a r—”

  “They should both be given the same chance. End of discussion.”

  Xole looked on at him, “You really think so?”

  “None of us are truly innocent,” Abbas said. “But it’s as I said earlier. Everyone deserves a fighting chance.”

  Xole looked down at the city again. It seemed tiny, almost irrelevant from how high they were. ‘But that’s the world,’ he thought. ‘Its problems just never seem to be on the surface.’

  “Abbas,” he said, “I have something to tell you about my Talent…” he took a breath, remembering his talk with Yesfir, “I think the reason is because I…I have a mutat—”

  ‘Thwump!’

  Both their gazes flew to the fire escape behind them. There, slumped over and bloody, was Spit-Take, panting and holding the side of his bleeding cap-less head with his other hand carrying his Green Pass. He looked up, blood spilling from his grin. “Boy…am I glad to see you guys.”

  “Melmar!!!” Abbas said, rushing over to him with Xole. The two propped him up against a vent on the building. The injured man chuckled.

  “C’mon…” he said weakly, “I thought I told y’all not to call me that.”

  “What happened to you?” Xole asked, franticly glancing over both shoulders. “Who did this?!”

  “Relax…kid…” he panted, “I wasn’t followed…” he wheezed hard and clutched his chest. “I…I thought they were ordinary Collars…” he shook his head slowly, “but they…they fought like Reds…real nasty those guys are…”

  Abbas was stunned. “Melmar…you aren’t making any sense. Are you saying they did this to you?”

  “Nah…just…just one of ‘em,” Spit-Take coughed hard, “It all happened so fast and…this…this guy…unstoppable…couldn’t even get a damn lick in!” he grunted again, panting. “Big John…oh God no…” he began to fall over, “John, he’s...”

  “Spit-Take?! SPIT-TAKE?!!” Xole yelled, grabbing him, “Just hold on, please!” He did his best to get the man under his shoulder, groaning over his surprising weight, “It’s not safe up here right now. Abbas, we gotta go!”

  Abbas was still, as if he were day dreaming.

  “Abbas!” Xole said, feeling his knees already shaking. “We have to leave right now!” he glanced over his shoulder, his body breaking into a cold sweat, “Spit-Take is—he’s in trouble!”

  Snapping awake, Abbas’s gaze homed in to him. He took the short man with one arm and tossed him over his shoulder. He looked over his other at Xole. “Follow me.”

  He then jumped off of the building, keeping himself close to its side until he was at least twenty feet from the ground. His body stuttered along the wall, vanishing. Xole blinked, looking around until catching him on the ground at the opposite end of where he’d fallen.

  “Young one!” he called, “You must follow me!”

  “I don’t even know where the heck to begin!” Xole yelled, “And what in the world is that stuttering thing you keep doing? Are you teleporting?!”

  “Just jump and I’ll catch you!” he said, “But if you can, attempt to mimic me by shifting your feet quickly along the wall.”

  Xole wanted to shout no. The last thing he wanted was to be forced of building—again. But remembering Spit-Take, he knew he had no choice.

  “You better catch me!” he said.

  “Do not worry! Just do as you’re told!” Abbas replied.

  ‘Dammit, dammit, dammit!’ he thought. He looked down, immediately feeling dizzy. Shutting his eyes he walked off in time to hear Abbas yelling again.

  “Young one no!” he cried, “The fire escape!”

  “Huh?” Xole opened his eyes in time to see the railing rushing towards him. “AAAHHHHHHHHH!” he screamed covering his body.

  ‘CRASH’

  Xole crashed through the stairs of the first one, making his body flip like a rag doll to the next flight, which he took with his arms, legs, and head, rolling to the third flight like a human snowball before breaking through the guard rail before free falling again. A large hand caught the back of his collar and set him down.

  “Young one, are you alright?” Abbas asked.

  “Yeah…I’m fine.” Xole said, dizzy. He blinked a few times then inspected himself up and down. “Wait, I’m fine, completely and totally fine!”

  Abbas gave a small smile and nodded, “Good. Now let’s see how your current abilities keep up with me.” Just as he finished talking, the man bent his knees slightly and burst off down the alleyway. Xole watched, slack-jawed.

  ‘Why’s he so fast?’ he thought. Remembering to move his Gi to his legs, he slightly bent his knees and burst off the ground as well. Though he wasn’t as fast, he was still able to trail close enough behind Abbas to keep an eye on him as the two rushed down the city’s downtown. Suddenly, the large man stopped just at the corner where they were supposed to turn. Xole skidded, slamming into him but regaining his balance.

  “Hey,” Xole said, “Why’d we—”

  “Hush,” Abbas said. He pointed to a blockade across the street where two officers were talking in front of a ‘closed for construction’ sign.

  “Another city blockade, eh?” one of them, on the skinnier side, said.

  “That’s what HP ordered.” The other, on the fatter side, replied. “We making sure these prisoners are transferred without interruption. I’ll gladly block a dozen roads to do that.”

  “Heh,” the thin one laughed, “Wouldn’t be surprised if them Blue Collars started protesting over all these road closures.”

  “Their mistake,” the fat one said. “They know the unions got our backs. Besides even if they tried to strike, it’d be their jobs they’d be losing, not ours.”

  “I heard that!” the thin one said climbing into the car with is partner. It sped down to the end of the street, taking out another sign. Xole looked over at Abbas, who almost seemed to glare under his glasses.

  “Uh, are we good?” Xole asked.

  “Well take another entry.” Abbas said.