by T. C. Edge
"But, you stopped at the best part," I said. "Come on, you can't leave me hanging like that!"
His warm brown eyes glinted in the darkness. That inner light of theirs, and the deep stare he could muster, suggested to me that he had enhanced eyesight as well. Like Lenny, perhaps, though not as capable. It would be a useful asset, as a soldier, to be able to spot things coming more quickly. Powerful eyesight and powerful speed were extremely valuable in combat.
"How about this," he said, having thought about it a moment. "If you perform well this evening, then I'll give you some more information. Sound fair?"
I shrugged. "And who decides whether I've performed well?"
"Me, of course," he said, his eyes turning crafty. "Yes, it's arbitrary, but that's my prerogative. Work hard, and I'll spill. If I don't think you're putting the effort in..." He pulled his thumb and index finger across his lips theatrically.
"Yes, I get it, Ford. I'll do my best, OK."
"Oh, how I love such platitudes. You'll be telling me you'll 'give it a hundred and ten per cent' next."
"No I won't. That's impossible. One can only ever give one hundred per cent." I shook my head. "I've always hated that expression. I mean, how can anyone give more than everything they've got?"
"It's exaggerative," he said. "It just means they'll give it their all."
"Yes, I know what it means. Doesn't mean I like it."
"Okaaaay," he said, drawing out the word. "Remind me never to use hyperbole with you."
I had to smile. I had fun with these little exchanges with him. There was no tension or awkwardness in them. He felt like a close friend to me already.
"Anyway, where are you leading me? I hope this hasn't been one big ruse." I looked at him suspiciously. "You're not setting me up to murder me horrifically somewhere, are you?"
He glared at me, narrow-eyed and intense. "So, you've worked me out, have you?" He pulled his lips back into a sinister smile. "I guess I'll have to finish you off right here!"
He lunged with his hands at my neck, but I batted him away. We darted about for a few moments, as I engaged my enhanced speed to evade him. I realised that probably wasn't smart out here in the open. "All right there, tiger," I said, holding up my hands as he prowled towards me once more. "That'll do. Settle down."
He stood up tall and grinned. "Nice evasion moves," he said. "You're quicker than I thought."
I nodded modestly. "I have no real frame of reference to be honest. I assume there are others who are much quicker."
"Depends on what you're talking about. Top speed or acceleration? There are also things like reflexes and agility to consider. You definitely seem to be proficient at the latter, judging by what I've seen so far. And good reflexes and dexterity are more important, I'd say, than a high top speed. In a fight, at least."
"Hmmmm. Good to know. My mum always told me that my dad was extremely fast. I suppose I've inherited that, at least."
"Looks like it. With training you can hone those skills and abilities, though. It's something we'll work on, as well as combat and weapons training. I assume you have some of the latter already?" He looked to my hip, where my multi-function pistol was stashed beneath my coat. "Anyone who can build their own pistol surely knows how to use it?"
"I've practiced with it a bit," I told him. "Like you say, it wouldn't be much use building one if I couldn't use it. Though, my aim wasn't very good with that Reaper," I added, lowering my voice as we went.
"That's not true, Paige. You hit him several times."
"But not exactly where I was aiming."
"And there's no reason why you should. Reapers are trained to evade gunfire. They often have augmentations that enable them to predict where you'll aim and shoot as well. Trust me, you did well. Much better than most rookies would have done."
"Really?"
His words warmed me. It was heartening to think that I had some natural fighting instinct.
"Absolutely," he said. "I'm assuming you have no hand-to-hand combat experience, though?"
"Not really. I've found myself in the occasional scrap, but nothing too serious, and not with a Reaper or anything. That's definitely something I need to work on."
"OK, good. We'll work on them all, but ideally, and in most practical situations, you should be looking to avoid hand-to-hand combat if possible. In most cases, you will be heavily physically outmatched if you come up against a Reaper, or one of Mantis's Bugs, for example. Good knife skills will be more useful for if you find yourself close to an enemy, and in a fight for your life. Otherwise, always try to keep your distance and engage from there. Or better, run if you can."
"Right, yeah," I said. "I've grown quite used to sneaking in the shadows. I think I'm more naturally inclined towards stealth work, rather than the sort-of brute force approach. Strength isn't really my ally."
"No, but your Variant speed does grant you some. You are naturally durable, and have thick bone and muscle density that allows you to travel at high speeds for some time without negative physical side-effects. If you throw a super-quick punch, it can really do some damage depending on the target. Though, suitable armour does help manage that workload too and protect you. You can still break bones if you get it wrong, when moving at such velocity."
"Yeah. I mean, that Reaper's armour repelled my bullets. If I hit him, I'd surely snap my wrist or forearm."
He nodded. "If you did so with force, yes. So, it's important to know what you're hitting. Any normal human will crumble under a proper blow from you, but those with bionic augmentations might not, depending on what upgrades they have. It's all about judgement. You have to know your enemy when you engage. Be quick to analyse and determine what the best course of action is. Your quick mind will help you there too."
I took his advice on board as we continued on eastwards, heading through Southbank at a jog in the direction of the Bends. Clearly, training around here wouldn't be smart, with nowhere to give us much privacy. Towards the eastern edge of Southbank, where the region merged into the Westbends, there were empty areas where we'd find just that. Places where we could train in peace.
Eventually, we arrived at a large, multi-storey building that sat lonely in a space between the surrounding blocks. It's roof was partially destroyed, a number of its outer walls also in serious states of disrepair. The same was true of a number of the buildings surrounding it. They appeared much older than the more modern blocks where I lived, perhaps even predating the war.
"Does anyone live around here?" I asked Ford. I looked around. It seemed deserted. There were a number of areas of the city like that, a once sprawling place whose population had withered over the years
"Not anymore," he told me. "This place saw a lot of fighting between the VLA and the government back in the day. It's right between Southbank and the Bends, so became a natural conflict zone. The place was never put back together properly after we were chased out, and I guess it was left to rot a bit."
He looked down at his surveillance device, sifting through a few camera images. He seemed to have hacked several of them in this area already.
"OK, we're all good by the looks of things," he said. "We have our own cameras set up all over this place. Not state ones, but ours. Helps us train new recruits here without being spotted." He smiled to himself. "Kind of ironic, really. They chased us out of here, and now we use it to train new soldiers. I've always enjoyed that."
We ventured towards the large, rectangular building at the heart of the abandoned district. On closer inspection, I saw signs of vegetation sprouting from the ground and creeping up the walls. There were bullet marks everywhere, scorch marks from fire and explosives. There was little mistaking that it had once been a war zone.
"So, there was active fighting in the streets?" I asked. "Like, a larger scale conflict? I thought the VLA always existed underground. Like a fringe resistance group and little more."
"It certainly is now, but as I told you, we used to be a lot stronger. There was a time
where we could fight more openly, when the city was in a state of civil war. That was a long time ago, though. We only fight in the shadows now."
It was a different narrative to what I'd always believed, or been told. The history of the Variants, of course, was taught in schools, but their prominence as a group, or active participation in a civil conflict, had never been properly elaborated on. At least, not that I knew of.
I knew the broad strokes. That the Variants were originally created over three hundred years ago. That they were genetically enhanced and manufactured to be used as soldiers and combatants in war. That those with supernatural speed, strength, and senses were created first as soldiers. That, soon enough, those with enhanced intellects were born, who ended up creating the weapons that led to the global collapse. A group that I derived from. A group known here as the Worldkillers.
I knew all of that. It was history, impossible to refute. Facts that had been disseminated throughout the city, ingrained within the minds of the population for hundreds of years. It had led to the persecution of all Variants, blamed for what they'd done and what they were. Not only the so-called Worldkillers, but all the rest of them too. Generation after generation punished for the deeds of their ancestors. Ancestors who, really, were only ever the product of governmental and global experimentation in the first place, and acting under their control and command.
It made me sick, the hypocrisy of it all. My father had left because we heard that, elsewhere, out on the lost continent, the Variants weren't persecuted, but ruled. That they had grown strong, and built up great communities of their own from the ashes of the old world. It was a tantalising prospect, to find those who might support us, help us, understand our plight and even fight for us.
But ultimately, it had come to nothing. Whether any of that was even true, I had never found out.
I was broken from my thoughts, Ford's voice drawing my attention again to the building ahead. I looked up at it, feeling the weight of history around this place. There was something symbolic about it, something significant. I looked around and wondered if my father ever fought here.
"This was an old hospital," Ford said, "a long time ago. It became housing units for a time, but now it's been abandoned. It's a good place to train. Lots of areas. Lots of space." He looked at his surveillance device for one final check. "OK, let's go. We should be able to squeeze in a couple of hours at least."
He stepped towards the main front doors, and after a slight hesitation, I followed right behind.
18
The old hospital was structured around a large central courtyard at the heart of the building, with several floors of galleries surrounding it. It was once the main entrance foyer, and provided a lot of space to train, whether practicing fighting techniques, weapons training, or other speed and agility drills.
Elsewhere, the corridors and maze-like network of rooms across the various floors allowed for stealth training, and hunting challenges. Ford explained that I would be engaging in all of them in the coming days and weeks, and should make quick progress if I listened closely and acted on what he told me.
"How quick," he finished, "is up to you. Let's see how much of a natural you really are, shall we?"
I grinned at the prospect, forgetting the dour thoughts I'd had outside. There was no need to dwell on the past, or curse the world for how it had treated my people. The only recourse we all had was to take action. Here was where it would begin for me.
"OK, we'll start with the basics," Ford said. "A few simple throws, rolls, and holds that will help you use your enemy's bodyweight against them. Using your speed, you should be able to get yourself into good positions. That's all it's about really - positioning, angles, and leverage. It won't work against the more formidable opponents, but against the weaker ones it will help you take them down quietly and effectively from close range. So, good for both stealth, and if you find yourself up close and personal with someone, and need to take them down quickly."
I drew a breath as we squared off, right there in the middle of the foyer. It had clearly been quite a modern, cutting edge hospital in its day, with this open structural shape and design. Now, the various floors were stained and chipped and hanging with vines. It was a vision of what a lot of the world would be like now. Countless cities probably lay abandoned all across the globe.
"OK, you ready?"
I looked at Ford, expecting him to take me through a few simple techniques first, as he'd suggested. He didn't. With a sudden, flashing movement, he sped in close to me, flipped me over onto my back, swung around to my leg, and bent me into an ungodly shape. I let out a sudden squawk and he immediately relented, flashing back up to his feet and standing before me.
I sat on the floor, stretching my right knee where he'd threatened to pop it. "What the hell, Ford! Give me some warning next time, will you!"
"Like your enemies will?" he asked calmly, standing tall above me. "You think they'll tell you when they're going to attack?"
"That's different," I grunted, standing up again and brushing myself off. "I don't know anything yet. You haven't taught me how to even defend myself."
"Oh, I will. I just wanted to see how you'd react. I'm guessing you'll be ready next time now, won't you?"
"I...maybe," I huffed. "I'd just rather you..."
I stopped mid-sentence, as Ford suddenly shifted again, moving at staggering speed around me. I spun, following him, trying to trace his movement, but lost him as he disappeared behind a pillar. My eyes flung this way and that trying to spot him, but he was gone. I dropped immediately into a crouch, firming my muscles, and quickly backtracked towards the nearest wall, scanning as I went.
I was there in a few moments, covering my back now with the solid surface behind me. The space ahead was large and open, barring a few tables, the old front desk, and some fallen rubble from the ceiling.
I scanned, one way and then the next, as a sudden noise caught my attention. I darted my eyes to the left to trace it, and saw an old piece of brick rolling along the floor...
And then, a second later, there was a gun to the back of my head.
"Always be aware of unusual and unexpected events that might distract you," Ford said from behind me. I slowly turned and faced him, as he stepped back and put his pistol to its holster. "Let your senses be your allies, don't let them deceive you."
"Deceive me? What was I supposed to do, not look? It was instinctive."
"Of course it was, this time. Next time you might think twice. As soon as you saw that piece of rubble, what did your instinct tell you?"
I thought for a second. "That you'd thrown it to distract me. Get me to look one way, so you could slip in from another."
"Exactly, but it was too late by then, and I had already made my move. Now, if it were to happen again, you'd be wise to the possible trick. There's a reason, Paige, why the best soldiers aren't always the ones with the strongest powers. Often it's the most experienced who prevail, because they've seen it all, and know what to expect in any given situation."
"OK, I get that," I said, nodding along. "But, you're throwing random things at me, Ford. First you rush me and get me on the floor, then you disappear and play a game of hide and seek. You said we'd start with throws and grapples. I'm not exactly prepared for all this."
His face loosened up into a grin, though his eyes remained serious. "Like I said, I was just interested to see how you'd react. You did well, actually, moving right towards the wall. Stopped me from coming in behind you, at least."
"Yeah, well I do have some experience. And anyone would have done the same."
He shook his head. "You'd be surprised. A lot of people would have just stood there, spinning around to try to spot me. You took quick action, and that's a good start. This is all part of lesson number one."
"And that is?" I asked.
He leaned in and down to my level. "Don't get comfortable here," he whispered. "Expect the unexpected."
As we stepped back over towards
the centre of the foyer, I realised just how familiar I was with that particular notion. In fact, I'd been living with it all my life, hadn't I? After all, wasn't that exactly how the Controller liked to run things? Curfew was enforced at random. Variant and ill-tech scans and tests were too. My work at the warehouse was designed to hold my interest, keep me on my toes, and the same was true for many others.
The Controller's mantra was about us staying in our lanes, not deviating from our paths, doing so for our own safety. Really, it should have been 'expect the unexpected'. He liked to keep us all uncomfortable, just like Ford was doing here. It was a philosophy that seemed to work well.
Still, the next half an hour didn't present any surprises, as Ford took me through some grabbling techniques. I learned a few things, and began to get the hang of them. My speed, as he'd suggested, was a great asset. Against someone like him, with similar agility, it was hard for me to work him into a position where I had the advantage, but with anyone of regular, human pace, I felt confident I'd be able to take them down.
My strength, certainly, was an issue. Ford was a couple of inches over six feet tall, wide shouldered and strong. I was a smidgen over five and a half feet, strong enough for a girl of seventeen but naturally less broad. He probably weighed twice as much as me, which made trying to get him to the floor difficult. I could muster a decent amount of power, but only behind my speed. From a static movement, I had little to work with.
It was frustrating, but something I had to accept. Physical combat wasn't going to be my forte. I had to play to my strengths.
The next half hour segment was spent working on my speed. Ford pointed to the top floor of the building and said, "Right there. Get there as soon as you can. Right in the top corner, up on the fifth floor gallery. I'm timing you. Ready?"
I found the spot he was pointing at, then quickly looked around to try to find a way up. Outside of the main foyer, I could see a staircase through a set of broken doors.