Flawed Fracture

by Katie Vack

  Mind unclouded, he flung his fists out to the side, bringing his will to bear on all the negative thoughts and emotions he had stored up. He was amazed at how easy this had become- normally, without a particular event to make him mad, his shadows couldn't do much more than tingle; but a single week of intensive practice seemed to have done more than a decade of occasional use. They burst into being over his fists and feet, writhing in anticipation.

  He crossed his arms before his chest, lowering his chin and planting his feet. "Again." The current was turned upon him once more and he growled in pain, swaying backwards as his muscles half-seized, but this time he had his power to rely upon. He focussed his mind upon his shadows, bringing them around and into the current, absorbing the electricity as it fried him. His palms began to redden under the energy, but he hardened his mind into a razor's edge, cutting through the bolt and making it his own. The power flowed into him, heightening his mind, his body, his powers.

  The current cut off and he breathed out heavily. The absence of pain was not the absence of injury, and his body was gradually tearing itself apart under the stress of containing such power. He let his hands fall to his sides, focussing on the energy contained within him. He had to get rid of every last vestige. That was part of the training-having it stored right now would slowly damage him, but with the maglev he was looking at certain death if he messed up in any way.

  Having satisfactorily tracked down the remnants of the thunderbolt, he focussed his powers upon them, then rather than keeping them under his control or releasing them explosively let them fade from his grasp. The room darkened for a split second as his shadows fled into the surroundings, then it returned to its marginally lit state. Grayson's hair fell from its static-imbued position into a relatively normal state, and all the power fled his body. He sagged slightly before catching himself, forcing himself to stand upright once more.

  "Not bad," the doctor called out from the safety of his box, "not bad at all. I do believe we might just do this."

  Grayson grinned to himself. They could do this. It was going to work. He flung his hands out to the side, shadows beginning to bunch around them, and planted his feet. "Again."

  * * *

  Grayson feathered the throttle, decelerating as he dropped into a sharp corner, riding the earthen bank round and spewing up a cloud of dirt in his wake. He neared the end of the turn, accelerating once more out of it, and the tree flew by to his left. He neared a ridge and, rather than rounding it, lined himself up and gunned it.

  He flew off the ridge, the lip crumbling away just behind him as he screamed into the air, the hillside dropping away blow him. A pair of trees rose up on either side and he passed between them, branches whipping at his face, close enough to reach out and touch. He glanced down as the bike began to fall. Three or four metres, but on a hillside like this it would be an easy enough landing. He crashed down with a thump, a slight stutter as he tried to recover his balance, and then he was away again.

  Today was the day Thief had finally let him loose. Today there was nobody riding tandem to supervise him, nobody to watch over his shoulder. Thief had been loath to let him ride it alone, but had eventually decided that, if he had to let Grayson use it for the hijacking, he really had no choice but to let him practice solo for at least one day. The amount of trust that implied was phenomenal, and Grayson had no intention of letting him down. This was his chance to prove to the boy that he was ready, and he was going to make it count.

  He looked down at the speedometer- fifty miles an hour. Not bad for a downhill through a dense forest, but he could do better. He twisted the handlebar up to eighty, and the bike roared beneath him like a raging beast. He couldn't cope with this anymore, couldn't keep up, he simply didn't have the reflexes for it. If a tree were to appear in his path he wouldn't have enough time to avoid it- but he couldn't back down.

  To back down would be to accept defeat, to give up, and that he just couldn't do. He'd rather die than lose to an inanimate object, and he'd rather be a sore loser than a quitter. This wasn't even a fifth of what he'd be forced into in a couple of days.

  He reached down to the depths of his mind, drawing his powers out from within. He owed a lot to the doctor, getting him to this stage. To be able to bring his shadows out, under such pressure and with no real catalyst, was something he never could have done before. Now it was child's play.

  His shadows sprung into life around his hands and his feet, already gravitating towards the energy he could feel throbbing beneath him. He didn't fight them, but regulated their strength- to draw too little energy from the vehicle would be pointless, but to take too much might cause mechanical failures. He felt the power flow into him, invigorating, addictive. His eyes lit up and his senses heightened, the swimming world snapping into sharp focus. He laughed wildly to himself, the sound masked underneath the engine noise. The pace, the adrenaline, the hurricane feel of the wind rushing past his face; it was breathtaking. When he next got a spare second, he really did have to acquire himself one of these.

  A tree stump flew towards him but he saw it coming, body working on instinct even as his enhanced eyesight told his mind of the obstacle's existence. Sunrise skidded round the side, clearing it by a few centimetres, and he pushed it into a slide, neatly moving past a couple more trees on the way before righting himself once more. There was no way anyone should have been able to do this, and yet he was managing it anyway. He hadn't been lying when he'd called himself a fast learner, and with his shadows to rely upon he was inhuman. On less than a week, Sunrise had become not just a vehicle but an extension of himself. They were one.

  He finished their arc, directing them straight down the hill again, flicking off the first lock and grinding the handlebar up to one twenty. Sunrise responded excitedly to the order, purring forward, and the pressure forced him back into his seat. The front wheel began to rise and he brought his body up against the searing metal, forcing it down into the earth once more. As far as the law was concerned, anyone riding a motorbike needed proper protective gear to do so. As far as Thief was concerned, a little leather and a helmet wouldn't make much difference colliding with an object beyond a hundred miles an hour, and Grayson had to say he agreed. Besides, he didn't like being trapped and leather wasn't really his style.

  A mercenary was a mercenary. When you became one, your will to survive became a secondary matter. You got the job done, and if you got killed doing it then that was just bad luck, and sometimes a bit of ineptitude. Besides, with modern healing and reconstruction people were astoundingly hard to kill- as long as you didn't die on-site, you were pretty much guaranteed to survive. And, if you were in reasonably sized pieces and had someone who cared enough, they were still able to trade their life for yours to bring you back.

  Grayson liked the philosophy. He hated being trapped, and there was no way he could spend his life trying not to die. To throw away that desire and pursue one's dreams, that was true freedom. He hadn't really managed it yet, but perhaps if he told it himself for long enough he might eventually lose the fear. That was the plan. Either way, he always tried to apply the philosophy to his life.

  A twig lashed across his face, opening his cheek down to the bone, but between his powers and his adrenaline rush he barely even felt it. Another one lacerated his forearm, ripping through the skin and muscle and sending up a little mist of bloody droplets, which he ignored. The edge of the treeline began to approach and he flowed into it, flipping the second switch and pushing the bike up to one ninety as he rode the last few kilometres, bringing it to skidding halt before the waiting mutant and leaving a trail of torn and shredded grass and earth behind him.

  When it came to this kind of thing, Thief had picked the perfect place for them to work. It was a towering mountain, a forest covered peak that should really have been blanketed in snow if not for its closeness to a few minor Infernus fragments. It was amazing what a difference a degree or so could make. They had spent a little over two hours getting he
re, but with Thief driving and on open roads that was a lot further than it sounded. Grayson had never really thought much about alternatives to walking- he'd had no experience with motor vehicles, and animals of all kinds seemed to despise him- but the idea that a few weeks travel could be condensed into a few adrenaline packed hours was certainly enticing. He had known it was possible, but never really believed it up until now.

  He stepped off the bike, an enormous grin plastered across his face, and tried to wipe his blood-covered face. He ended up doing little more than smearing it, head wounds always bleeding an obscene amount, but he didn't really care.

  Thief looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. "What did you hit?"

  "In the trees, a hundred and twenty. In the open, one ninety."

  The boy whistled. "Bloody good job. I wouldn't have thought you'd manage something like that after such a short time. Soon you'll be almost as good as me."

  "Soon I'll be better."

  Thief chuckled. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm damn good at what I do." He appraised the mud and blood coated caster again. "What else did you hit?"

  Grayson smiled sheepishly, glancing down at his blood slick arm as it drained onto the thirsting earth. His face probably looked a lot worse. "A couple of sticks."

  "Well that was stupid. Why would you do that?"

  Grayson shrugged, playing along. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

  "Well," the boy threw him a bundle of adhesive bandages, "you should probably get that sorted." Evidently he had been expecting something like this to happen, and Grayson wasn't sure whether to be offended or impressed.

  He snatched them deftly out of the air, suddenly tired now that his shadows had fled, and began to wrap the gauze around his gaping forearm; which, the painkiller gone, had suddenly started to sting more than a little. "So you'll let me borrow her?"

  "I think that's fair. As long as you don't damage her in any way, in which case I'll hunt you to the edge of the universe. Oh, and you have to get me my guitar, but you can do that tomorrow."

  Grayson glanced up. "Tomorrow? I thought we were still training tomorrow."

  "It's been cancelled. I had a call from Sora while you were up there."

  A dozen unpleasant thoughts flashed through Grayson's head, but all that came out of his mouth was "Sora has a phone?"

  "Nah, it was Karolus'. Apparently she took it when he wasn't looking. Funny, I never gave him my number, but I guess he probably just got Crayton to hack it."

  "To what?"

  "Electronic theft. It wouldn't affect a technophobe like you anyway. So, Sora gave me a call and told me that you were going with her into Median tomorrow."

  "She never asked me about that."

  "She doesn't strike me as the kind to ask."

  Grayson found that he couldn't argue with that. "Great. I have a surprise trip with my psychotic partner into a city I barely escaped last time."

  Thief chuckled. "You can borrow my bike."

  "Seriously?" There was something suspicious about being offered the mutant's darling, but then maybe he just really wanted the guitar.

  "Of course. I wouldn't want your first date to go off badly."

  And there it was. Grayson's fist clenched, sending fresh blood flowing from his poorly bandaged arm. "If you don't shut up about that, you might just piss me off."

  "Look on the bright side; you'll be able to impress her with the riding skills I've taught you."

  "You know, if you keep doing you best to annoy people, sooner or later you're going to bite off more than you can chew."

  "You mean like you going up against a squad of Peacekeepers?" Grayson said nothing, and Thief took that as a call to continue. "Yeah, I thought as much. For all your warnings, you aren't really all that different. Getting into scrapes goes for both of us, however much you complain."

  "Maybe, but then I know more about life than you do."

  Thief snorted. "Now who's the arrogant one?"

  "Whatever. When you're up to you neck, don't tell me I didn't warn you."

  "Fine." He paused, the ghost of a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth. "Enjoy your date."

  Blood and Darkness

  The next morning, Sora went to wake him only to find him already on his feet and dressed. It was, Grayson decided, a bad habit he had gotten into- waking up a good hour or so before he was needed was not to be encouraged, all it did was wear him down.

  She looked at him for a second. "We're going now." There was no warmth, no greeting, but at least there wasn't too much negativity. He supposed he should be grateful.

  "I know." He wrapped his cloak around his battered body, sighing heavily to himself. Another four hours of torture at the hands of Frankenstein, or this little trip into Median with his psychotic partner. Which he would prefer, he really couldn't tell. That indecision said a lot.

  He walked past her through the doorway, heading down the steps to the main hall and out through the gates. She was looking a lot better, which was lucky considering how close they were to the battle. Her hair was still snow white, but the brown roots had begun to show through. She was also walking without any trouble, although how her leg might hold up under combat situations was a different matter, and her collar and ribs seemed to have been similarly fixed. They might not be magical, but the doctor's methods still gave impressive results.

  He led the way over to the parked motorbike, Sora following close behind. "What happened to your face?"

  He paused momentarily, quickly summoning a suitably ironic response. "Cut myself shaving."

  "You aren't old enough to shave."

  Grayson scowled at her response, and not just because of the insult. What was the point in his wordplay if she didn't even understand it? But then, not everyone could remember all the details of a week old conversation. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. "If you really want to know, I had an argument with a branch when I was riding yesterday."

  He'd bandaged up his arm after the ride, but hadn't really bothered with his face. He didn't like having things stuck to his head, medicinal or not- and besides, as far as scars went this one would be pretty cool. He'd washed it out with alcohol, which had burned like hellfire, then left it to heal on its own. Four or five inches in length, and deep enough that it looked to still be bleeding. He thought of it as artistic. Others might not agree.

  "Aren't you driving us there?"

  "Sure."

  "Encouraging."

  He ignored the parting comment, sliding into the leather seat. This day was going about as well as he'd predicted it would. If he stopped to retaliate to every little comment, neither of them was going to get anywhere.

  Sora sat down behind him, her body pressed up against his in an extremely off putting manner. When she wrapped her arms around his waist he couldn't help but flinch, which elicited a slight chuckle from her. "Scared?"

  "Of what?" He switched the engine on, accelerating away into the woods. The doctor wasn't exactly a people person, and so there were no paths between the hospital and the rest of civilisation. Looking on the bright side, Grayson got a bit more practice with technical riding.

  It was stupid. So ridiculously stupid. Thief had been full of crap as always, and Grayson wasn't even entirely sure he hadn't been joking, but once a thought had been put into your head it was impossible to get rid of. There honestly wasn't anything between him and Sora, but like most thoughts the more he tried to stop thinking about it the more it rose to the forefront of his mind. He knew he should be worried about having his throat slit, but right now he cared more about how intrusively close to him she was. He'd never been this self-conscious when he'd been riding with Thief, but today it was different. He was forced into physical contact with the woman who had only recently tried stabbing him for the pure entertainment of it.

  He felt her breath, cool on the back of his neck, and unconsciously shrunk away from it. She laughed again, condescendingly. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  "Pis
s off. I'm not in the mood."

  "Prickly."

  "Well maybe I'm just sick of the crap. You want me to drive you into Median, fine, but don't spend the whole time messing with my head."

  "Messing with your head?"

  He growled viciously. "Forget it. And you still haven't even told me what this trip is about."

  "A certain overgrown lizard cut off one of my blades. I've had another forged, and I'm picking it up."

  "Huh." A disappointingly mundane response, but then what had he been expecting? Murder? Torture? "Thief was sure this was a date."

  The words were out before he had time to think them through, plunging the two of them into a tense and awkward silence, and for the first time since he'd known her it seemed like the silvan genuinely had no idea how to react. After a while of him mentally beating himself to pieces, her voice came across from over his shoulder, and it was the same frozen voice he'd quickly learned to fear.