Andre stood several yards in front of Mr. Holdover. However the older man had only now seemed to notice him.

  ‘Well I’ll be,’ Andre thought clenching his left hand. ‘This guy really thought I’d try the same trick again with getting behind him, tracking my Gi when it was really my chains’.’ He held the other end of the weapon with his right, keeping the man in place. ‘Judging by his face, I’m guessing that’ll be his last mistake.’

  The man’s hands slowly went to the metal sticking from his front and back, snatching them tight.

  “Uh,” Andre made a face, “Not sure if you know this, but you ain’t about to use my chain right now. My Talent in this state’s exclusive to me only.”

  He watched the man grip the weapon tighter, his hands starting to blister and bleed on the hot metal. Andre scoffed.

  “Wollfe was right about you Bodily types. Always thinkin’ you invincible or something just cause you lived most your lives numb to pain.” He whipped his chain to the side, swinging Mr. Holdover into the wall, the man’s flannel filled with more blood. “It’s actually kinda fitting.” He continued, “To be so strong and still not know a damn thing! It must be so easy for folks like you to ignore all the mess we went through. What we scraped, scavenged, bled, and sacrificed, to protect you, only for you ungrateful assholes to chalk us all up to ‘Collard evil’ and ‘murders’!”

  He gripped his weapon even tighter and yanked Mr. Holdover forward, watching even more blood spill from the man, but he didn’t care and shoved his chained left fist into the chest, sending him across the room, and crashing through the collapsed second floor, blood spilling from his mouth.

  “At the end of the day it’s always you same people asking for empathy and understanding!” he dragged him down to the first floor again, the man’s body crashing through splintered bookshelves, tables and chairs. He looked down at him, his face disgusted. “Yet you could never give us any.”

  The room went silent. A single piece of wood from a broken chair fell with a small echo. Then, to Andre’s surprise, the man spoke.

  “You done yet, asshole?”

  The Blue Collar watched the man slowly climb to his knee, turning his bloodied face to him. His eyes dead still, but focused.

  “Cause I’m tired of hearing your fucking excuses,” he continued, “but I’m even more tired of your voice; that whiny fucking voice! I’ve heard it hundreds—no, thousands of times already. Pieces of shit like you, desperate to make their disgusting selves feel right! Crush, kill, conquer—you’re so fucking disconnected you forgot your own damn roots!”

  Andre thrust his weapon to the side, but the older man’s bleeding hands gripped it—even tighter than before.

  “You folk ALWAYS think you’re the only ones putting up with shit. No, motherfucker, WE put up with YOU.” The man stomped to his feet, beginning to pull the weapon, “What, you think you’re the only ones who grew up at the bottom for having the wrong Talent? The only ones who’ve crawled, bled, killed for a chance to get to the top?! The only ones who forced themselves outta bed each morning cause there was no other way?!!”

  Andre watched the man’s knees bend, and then pull his weapon even harder.

  “You see kid,” he continued, “I can empathize with others. I just chose not to do it with you because you grew up and chose to be a piece of shit.”

  Andre body tensed with anger, “You—!”

  Mr. Holdover hurled himself forward using the momentum of the chains, ramming both his feet into his chest, “And that bitch!!” he exclaimed.

  Andre tumbled backwards, quickly recovering and whipping his chain out of the man and back to his side, but already running back for another attack.

  “Shut up!!” he snapped, throwing his chain, extending it around them, the end bouncing off the floor and walls, striking the man over and over again, who had his arms up and knees bent to guard. “You really don’t listen, don’t you?!” he said, “Our responsibilities aren’t our choice! And you people who never seem to get that are always the ones drowning in your burdens and trying to take us down with you!”

  “Fuck you, everyone’s got a choice!” Mr. Holdover shot back. He kicked his leg up and let the chain loop around his ankle, slamming his foot down to pin it and threw his fist back for a punch, “You drowned yourself a long time ago when you forgot that!”

  ‘CRACK!’

  “ARGH!” Andre’s head shot to the side along with his body. But before he could recover, Mr. Holdover’s body stuttered to his side to he could see him.

  “Also, I know a lot more than you think.” He said, stepping forward, ramming his elbow into the younger man’s ribs, “Like you’re Talent being active for only a few more minutes before you’re body drops like a sack of bricks!”

  Andre groaned in pain, ‘Gah—damn it! The hell he know about my limit?!’ He whipped his weapon to the ground, tearing it the rock floor and bring it upwards, slashing against Mr. Holdover’s body, but the man responded with a quick kick to his gut, shooting him back until he hit the desk. With a cry, Andre charged forward, swinging his chain in a red blur, snapping and slashing anything it hit. However, Mr. Holdover threw his arms up in numerous directions, swatting away each strike, becoming less and less bothered by the damage—much to Andre’s bewilderment. Catching the weapon again, he yanked Andre forward and threw his leg into the right side of his head, nearly knocking him out. His ears rang.

  ‘I can’t…lose,’ he thought turning back, only to get punched in the left side of the head, falling to what looked like railway tracks. His eyes budged. ‘No!!!’

  Quickly swaying with the momentum, he swung his weapon down right, aiming for the man’s shoulder but Mr. Holdover hit the end with his palm, snapping the weapon away in a sharp recoil while stepping forward and under, sending other his fist to his chin, shooting the younger man off his feet and into the upper wall. Andre shook his head, dazed, but in time to see the front desk flying at him. He flung his chain to a nearby overhead light barely managed to stutter off the wall, hearing it shatter behind him as he swung over the man. He yanked his arms downward, hurling the light down at Mr. Holdover, crashing in a brief but blinding light show.

  ‘B-B-BRZZZZT!’

  Andre quickly dropped after the light, spinning his chain overhead for a heavy downward strike. ‘I ain’t about to let this guys breathe—!’

  Mr. Holdover shot through the light, grabbing the man by the throat and striking him in the face, his knuckles cracking against his head, sending him back across the room, the floor exploded under his body, which skid backwards until crashing into wall on the other side of the archive. His heart pounded in his ears.

  ‘Ba-Thump! Ba-Thump!’

  Andre sat there, head down, blood spilling from his mouth to his chest. His fingers loosening on his chain as his body began to grow heavy. He tried to look up past his eyelids, seeing the other man start walking his way to him from across the room. The young man coughed hard, feeling less steam leave his pores, his Gi quickly dissipating as he struggled to stay conscious.

  ‘D…damn…’ He tried to force his shaking hand to lift his weapon once again, but he couldn’t. It had become far too heavy. His chest also ached, growing heavier.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  ‘Ba-Thump…Ba…Thump…’

  _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  It was night by the time Andre made it to the bridge overseeing the freeway. He looked on to the traffic beneath him, illuminating the pathway to the city skylights. He leaned over the guardrail; his breath came fast as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  ‘I was just tryin’ to look after you. Like how you do for us.’

  ‘Worry about your damn self. And stay out of mine.’

  ‘And what did YOU do for us when dad died, huh?!’

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gripping the rail tight. “I’m so…so sorry...”

  Then, there was a cough.

  The boy’s head looked over his shoulder to a man dressed in a black long coat and tie with a white collared shirt and gloved hands folded over his cane. He stood before a black vintage style muscle car. His tired eyes stared at the boy. A few strands of black hair fell past his face to a bizarre looking mask on his face with three tubes at the sides. Andre shuddered, feeling cold, “W-w-who…what are you?!”

  “You didn’t return my message.” He replied in a raspy muffled voice. “I’m from the Capitol.”

  ‘The man who brought you here told me to hold these until you woke up.’ The doctor’s words echoed in Andre’s head as he remembered the card and phone. “W-why’re you here?!” he demanded.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Quit playing with me!!!” he yelled, “I’m tired of you people tryin’ to get in my head, damnit!! What’s some goon from the government even doing following me out here?!!”

  “I recognize your Talent, Mr. Carmichael,” the man said, “I’m also aware of the situation with your mother—”

  “Then you can help her, can’t you?! Please!”

  The man sighed.

  “No…” he shook his head, “no. COME ON man—!”

  “I didn’t come here for them. I came for you.”

  The two stared at each other. Then, Andre turned back to the freeway. “Please,” he begged, “leave me alone. It…it hurts too much!”

  “It hurts because you’re strong.” He replied. “It must be infuriating to have such strength—such Talent, yet be so clumsy at the same time. Tell me, is that why you’ve abandoned your home? Your siblings?”

  “I’m saving them!!!” the boy shouted, shooting his red and tear streaked face back to the man, “They deserved my father, not me!”

  The man noticed him leaning against the guardrail. “And soon they will have neither.”

  The boy gasped back a sob, feeling his chest grow tight. His tears fell to the traffic below him and he leaned further, but gripped the rail tighter. “I don’t…I don’t wanna…I don’t know…”

  “I have a question for you, Mr. Carmichael. What do you want?”

  “I…I…my mom—”

  “No, forget about her,” He said, “Ty-ty, your family. All are irrelevant right now.”

  “You psycho!” Andre bellowed, “You evil BASTARD!!! There all I’ve got—!!”

  “Then that is all you are.” Alastor’s sharp voice cut the boy off. The man’s eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening. “In this world, the most important thing is to keep yourself afloat, no matter what. To Collard workers of any color this will always be true, but many become confused along the way and are dragged down by their burdens. There is no place for weight in this world, child.”

  “…”

  The man looked on at him. “Unfortunately, it appears you seem content on allowing your Talent to rot with you.” He sighed, turning his back to leave. “This was a waste of time.”

  Andre’s lips parted but no words came out, so his teeth grit instead, quivering with his shoulders and neck—which had grown heavy. He reached for his chain and yanked it off, feeling the cold metal weigh down his hand. It was heavy, so heavy he had to grip it with both hands—but even then it slipped, then, fell through his fingers to the deafening lights below.

  And before he knew it, he was falling himself; his hand outstretched.

  “H-help…”

  And as if time froze, his body halted. Looking up he saw the masked man holding him by the arm…

  _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  “I…was wrong...” he said. His head swayed to the right, seeing his chain lying in his open hand. “All this weight…”

  ‘Ba-Thump,’

  Very slowly, with one hand, the young man pressed it against the cold rock wall, dragging himself up and resting his shoulder against it. He brought his chain to chest level and gripped it as hard as he could, watching his bloody hand coat the weapon.

  ‘Ba-Thump! Ba-Thump!’

  “…Is what I choose to carry.” He said. Forcing his breath, he turned back to face Mr. Holdover, who was only twenty feet away, but stopped, even looking puzzled. Andre could literally hear his heart beating through both sides of his ears, yet he stepped forward, the beating only quickening with each step. His body felt hot, his pores steaming again and his Gi spiking even higher than before. Mr. Holdover only looked on, not saying anything.

  “What?” Andre panted, forcing a smirk, “You never saw…someone work this hard?”

  Mr. Holdover looked up and down the bloodied younger man. He saw his aura had become a dark blue, seeping from his body, the air shimmering around him, burning like a flame at its peak. His face was solemn, “You do know what happens next. Is that really what you want?”

  Andre raised his chain with his right hand. “That’s my choice.”

  ‘BA-THUMP!’

  ‘CLASH!’

  The man’s fist rammed into Andre’s raised arms. Despite his knees buckling at the pressure, he threw his left arm forward, hooking his chained arm to the back wall, quickly retracting it, and dragging his punch forward to the side Mr. Holdover’s head with a heavy strike of his own. Andre looked up in that brief moment, the older man’s face turned to the side ever so slightly but his expression remained unchanged.

  ‘Looks like I gotta hit him a little harder!’ he thought yanking his arm back and tearing the wall forward. It crumbled, launching countless debris at the two in a storm of rubble. The older man’s head jerked over his shoulder—then ahead to see Andre ram his fist into his ribs, sending him skidding into the rubble.

  He shielded himself with his arms, feeling as if he were in a hailstorm—a beach ball-sized hailstorm. Suddenly, an even bigger chunk of rock fell from above him. Throwing his gaze to the ceiling, he could’ve sworn it was raining on them in thousands of pieces. The rock before him then burst, with the Blue Collar bursting out, his chain spinning like a blade. Without a second thought, he then charged him in the storm of debris, the older man punching and dodging at his wildly flailing chain as it whipped around the entire archive, striking the ceiling and splitting the room, causing even more debris to fall. But at that point, the two were too preoccupied on each other, exchanging violent flurries of punches, kicks, as well as the chain’s end bouncing around them.

  ‘BA-THUMP! BA THUMP! BA-THUMP!’

  ‘Gotta go, just keep going!’ Andre thought. His jaw clenched as the man’s fist snapped something in his mouth, but he kept swinging even faster. The gum which originally stained the room had all been eviscerated in the onslaught. The room boomed and shockwaves erupted as the two continued to wail on each other. Blood, sweat, tears, and teeth spilled as flying chunks of rock and the chain relentlessly hit the two scuffling men. Andre’s shoulder pop hard, shooting with pain and instantly grow numb, so he threw it forward at Mr. Holdover to throw off the man’s overhead kick. The strike hit him—but he maneuvered his other arm behind him and brought his chain down on the man.

  ‘FWISH!!’

  Mr. Holdover grunted, the weapon tearing into his shoulder and dragging itself out, only for it to thrust towards his face again. He shot his hand up to block, only for it to shoot through his guard at is eye. However, he managed to throw his head to the side, feeling the metal slice along his cheek. Just then, the Collar struck him square in the jaw with his left hand again, and this time, dragged him in a circle to the ground with an angry cry, pinning his face. Mr. Holdover’s eye watched the chain ricochet above like a bullet, a blur of death bouncing from the wall, zig-zagging through debris, then, down to his forehead.

  In a flash, his knees bent and his feet hit the floor; the older man’s hand then swiped over the Collar’s face, hurling him to the side and whipping the metal away inches from his’s own face. But as he tried to pursue him, the chain was already recoiling back—faster than before, forcing Mr. Holdover to smack it away, returning to Andre, who charged his way back.

  ‘This is it!’ he thought hurling his chain to the far corner of the room. It extended, shooting through the wall, into the floor, and out again to the next corner, repeating until filling the room with a forest full of red chains.

  ‘BA-THUMP! BA-THUMP! BA-THUMP! BA-THUMP! BA-THUMP!!!’

  Blood shot from Andre’s mouth, but he flicked his wrist back, the chains recoiling, the cracked walls burst, the floor crumbled, the entire room collapsed as the metal whips tore into them both. Mr. Holdover could feel his body on the verge of being mangled. In that moment he reached for his belt, feeling his own Gi began to surge, then, erupt from his body.

  ‘Dumbass kid,’ he thought clenching his teeth, ‘I didn’t want to do this…’

  At that same time, Andre sprinted toward him, his weakening body expelling the last of his aura as his vision went blurry. His jelly filled legs buckled, and it took all he had to throw is noodle like left arm back, which had been twisted like a pretzel.

  But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care.

  ‘It’s just like that day,’ he remembered feeling his own talent shred his flesh, ‘that day on the tracks…’

  Mr. Holdover pulled his belt and Andre threw his arm forward. Despite the overwhelming burning pain in his chest, he couldn’t help but smile. As if it were his birthday.

  ‘It looks like…I did do it…dad…’

  ‘Ba…….thu—’

  ‘POP!

  Suddenly, the chains all vanished in a whiff of silence. Mr. Holdover stopped, his face in complete shock, watching the younger man’s body fall forward with a pink stain on his back. From behind him was the brunette woman, strands of gum fell from her lips…