Pushing off the wall, he ran his hands down his face and sighed. “Yes, we’re breaking up. I’ve been thinking and rethinking the whole problem for the past month. Usually, I don’t take so long to make decisions. But I find myself acting out-of-character when I’m around you.”
I didn’t like him labeling me as a problem. But, weird enough, I experienced a spark of hope that he acted ‘out-of-character’ around me. Surely, that had to be a good sign that he thought of me special enough to act so differently when he was around me.
David reached around me, punched in his code, and the elevator began ascending. “Yes, it’s definitely not a good idea for people who work together to date.”
“That’s what Randy said,” I mumbled and then immediately realized I shouldn’t have.
David shook his head. “Nice, GiGi.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Listen, we work to close together for there to be any awkwardness between us. So,” he held out his hand, “friends?”
I felt like I was back in the cafeteria with Randy.
David lifted his brows, waiting.
And so I did the only I could. I reached out and took his hand. “Friends.”
***
Dinner and a good night’s sleep did not happen to me. All I could think of was David. I played and replayed every moment we’d spent together. Every word we’d spoken. Every kiss, every touch. Come five in the morning, I’d had about enough of my wildly running thoughts. I got up, dressed, and made my way down to the lab. I did the only thing I could to forget about David, I dove into my Demise Chain assignment.
I had exactly six days before I went in front of Harry Noor with my state-of-the-art program. Mystic and David had exactly eight days until tryouts, eight days to learn how to be world class fighters. Plenty of time, I tried to convince myself.
I spent hours researching something I never thought in a million years I would. Fighting. I watched countless videos that had been filmed all over the world, some legal, some not so much.
I poured through archived files of the library, the internet, and, believe it or not, the History channel. I played a few fighting video games. I analyzed programs that were currently on the market. I hacked into servers to find out which software developers Harry Noor, the owner of Demise Chain, was meeting with. And then I hacked into those developer’s computers to see what they’d come up with.
I knew TL didn’t like me hacking things without prior approval, but this was for him and his family. He wouldn’t mind.
Back to my research . . . I took notes. I cross referenced those notes with other notes. And then I found myself with a whole list of questions for Bruiser.
List tucked in my pocket, I walked into our bedroom and found her lying on her bed with her head buried in her pillow.
“Hey,” I said, plopping down beside her on her bed. “Why aren’t you training?”
“We’re on a ten minute break,” she mumbled into the pillow.
“What’s up with you?” She rarely, if ever, looked down and out.
She let out a long, loud sigh. “GiiiGiii,” she whined, “I don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?” And then it dawned on me. “The mission? But why? It’s fighting. It’s what your specialty is.”
“I’m not going to be fighting. I’m going to be Mystic’s stupid girlfriend.” She rolled over. “I’ll be standing on the sidelines looking all dumb and air heady.”
I laughed. “Who says you have to be dumb and air heady?”
Bruiser heaved another sigh. “TL. Just a few minutes ago before he told us to take a break.”
“What?” That didn’t make any sense.
“He says Harry Noor likes his girls sweet and innocent and a tidbit dumb.”
I laughed again. “What? But you’re not going to be Harry’s girl, you’re Mystic’s.”
Bruiser wiggled up on the bed. “I know. But TL wants to do everything possible to be in Harry Noor’s good graces. He doesn’t want to do anything to raise flags, piss anybody off, etcetera.”
I nodded. “Well, that does make sense. Mr. Noor is the owner of the Demise Chain, and we want to get into the fights. And we definitely need to play all of our cards right. And if TL thinks you’re being sweet, innocent, and a little dumb will contribute to that, then he knows what he’s talking about.”
With a groan, Bruiser dropped her head back. “Why do girls always have to play the sidelines? I can fight better than David and Mystic. I should be competing, not them.” She slammed her fist into her hand. “I’d bust some people up.”
“Bruiser, you’re not on the sidelines. You’re part of a top secret mission to save TL’s daughter.” Hello? Did she not see this? “I’ve been on four missions now, and you’d be amazed what roles people play and how they all fit together into a sort of puzzle to solve the greater problem.”
“I mean, my God,” I continued, “Jonathan was my modeling agent in Ushbania. Do you think he really liked that? And me? Ug. I was a model? And Nalani in Rissala was a greasy, toothless boat captain. And Beaker in Barracuda Key a cheerleader? Can anybody say snort? And then down in the Junoesque Jungle, I had no control. I was just another female, serving the guys, sitting in the back. My point is, it all comes together in the end, and every role is just as important as the next.”
“I hear what you’re saying.” Bruiser scrunched up her face. “It’s just . . . well, fighting is my one true talent. I’m not as smart as the rest of you guys.”
“What? What are you talking about? That’s absolutely ridiculous,” I argued. Bruiser was one of the smartest girls I knew. And funny. And great to be around.
“Hey.” Mystic stuck his head in. “Can I come in?”
We both waved him in.
He lowered himself to his usual spot at the foot of Bruiser’s bed. And folding his legs up, he took what I referred to as his meditative position.
We both stared at him, waiting . . .
“This mission is against everything I believe in. Everything my parents taught me.” He looked up at us. “And I’m trying to figure out a way to tell TL I can’t fight. There’s got to be a way to get me in that room without requiring me to fight.”
I almost rolled my eyes. Why did it seem like it was my job to convince my team members to go on missions? When had I become the ranch’s Psychologist?
“I know,” Bruiser agreed. “I’m not happy about this either. I say we both go and talk to TL. There’s got to be some other way. And, dude,” Bruiser reached over me and bopped Mystic in the head, “I can’t believe you don’t want to fight. I’d give anything to be in your shoes.”
“Guys.” I held up my hands. “TL would not design a mission and put you into a role unless he felt you were fully capable. And he’s certainly not going to redesign a mission based on your comfortableness. Believe me, I know.” I felt like a broken record. Hadn’t I said similar things to all my other team members?
“It’s an honor,” I continued, “to be chosen.”
The both just looked at me.
“Listen,” I said, none so gently. “This is part of our new life. It comes with it. God knows I’ve done things I didn’t want to.” I got up off the bed. “That’s the bottom line. So you just have to suck it up.”
They both scowled at me.
I walked from the room, feeling like a crabby butt for my harshness, and not quite understanding why I had gotten so irritable with them. I guess I just didn’t have the patience right now. Maybe it was the whole thing with David and Randy. I didn’t know.
“Jeez, Kelly, can you be any less understanding?”
I turned to see Randy leaning against the hallway wall.
“Everybody gets scared when they’re prepping for their first mission, especially when it’s out of their realm of comfortable zone. Everybody experiences second thoughts.” Randy pushed up from the wall.
David came out of his bedroom. “I agree with Randy.”
Great, now I felt ev
en worse.
David knocked on my open bedroom door. “Hey, guys, can we talk?”
Mystic and Bruiser waved him in and Randy followed.
With a sigh, I turned and walked off, feeling more and more horrible about myself with each step. I needed to apologize. Next time I saw them I would.
***
That evening I found myself in my lab pounding my head. Give me something to hack or a code to break and no problem. Design a state-of-the-art, not-like-anything-else fighting program from scratch? Sheesh. What did they want from me?
I had a ton of questions and knew Bruiser had the answers, but after what had happened earlier, I didn’t feel comfortable approaching her. Or Mystic for that matter.
Chapling sat over in the corner behind some patch panels. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was testing (on himself) the Influence-Sway Skins (his creation, his term) that he’d taken from Dr. Gretchen and tweaked to fit our needs. The Skins would not only record muscle aptitude, they would give us a multi-dimensional image of the skeletal. If they worked, we’d use them in conjunction with the Combat-Thrash program (my creation/my term) that I had yet to fully develop. The program that would coach any fighter to greatness.
“OW!” he yelped.
Guess the testing wasn’t going so well.
My cell buzzed and I looked at the display.
* * * TL’s stat code.
Chapling waddled out from behind the patch panel, rubbing his chest through his T-shirt. “I need to find someone else to test things on.” He squint his eyes at me.
I held my hands up. “No. Nonononono.”
He smiled. “Let’s go. Did you get the stat code?”
I nodded and followed him out the computer lab and down the hall to the conference room.
Chapling rapped softly on the closed conference room door, and TL opened it.
Around the table sat everyone going on the mission: Nalani, Jonathan, David, Mystic, and Bruiser.
Chapling and I took seats beside each other to TL’s left.
TL ran his gaze over everyone in the room, taking a second to make eye contact with each of us. “I’d like to start out by saying this is an incredible place we live. Regardless of your backgrounds, I hope each of you realize what an honor it is to have been picked for this program. You are an elite, talented, intelligent group, and I’m proud to say you are on my team.”
No one uttered a sound as we stared at him. I was sure they were picking up on the same thing as me. While his words were complimentary, his tone came across disappointed.
Pushing back from the table, TL stood, and rolling his chair in, he rested his hands on top of the leather seat back.
My eyes wandered down to his ring finger where he wore no wedding band. I looked across the table to Nalani’s finger and saw the same. What kind of relationship did they have that not even in the safety of the ranch did they wear rings? I didn’t understand the two of them.
TL took a breath. “David, go ahead.”
David hit the remote, and the wall inserted screen flickered. An image of Zandra popped up with a rag tied around her eyes and tears streaking her face.
I sucked in a breath as I stared at the curls matted to her little cheeks.
“This picture arrived today,” David explained. “We traced it and have found out it was mailed a block away from where Zandra was taken. This picture was probably snapped moments after she was kidnapped.” He pressed the remote, and another image came into view.
It was a note, just like the first. FIND HER OR SHE DIES.
David put the remote down. “That message came with the picture.”
“What about prints?” Chapling asked.
David shook his head. “Nothing.” He turned to Mystic. “Do you get anything looking at that?”
Mystic shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I need to see her eyes.”
“Again,” TL spoke up. “The kidnappers could be anybody. Nalani and I have so many enemies.” TL stopped for a second and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “What do they want? It doesn’t make sense. Do they want me? Nalani? Money? To free someone from prison? I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead even harder. “At this point, I’m beginning to doubt if they want anything at all. Maybe they’re just playing a game. I’m beginning to doubt their intentions . . . and what exactly their plans are with,” TL swallowed, “with our daughter,” his voice cracked a little.
I swallowed, too, at the raw emotion in his tone. At the horrible things that could happen to their daughter.
Dropping his head, TL pressed his fingers into the sides of his temple.
“Please . . .” Nalani squeezed her fingers together so tight her knuckles turned white. “Please, you all in this room, you’re our only hope.”
My stomach clenched at the desperation in her voice. And I realized this was the first time I’d heard Nalani speak since first seeing her.
She looked first at Mystic and then Bruiser. “TL told me you two are hesitant to do this mission.”
I glanced over at my team members to find them both dropping their heads. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe they’d actually gone to TL. I loved my teammates, but at this point I felt incredibly disappointed in them, too. I didn’t care what hesitancy I might have, it was TL and Nalani’s daughter, for God’s sake. Did Mystic and Bruiser not see this?
“I can’t make you do this,” TL softly spoke, taking his fingers from his temple and dragging his gaze to both Mystic and Bruiser. “I could have gone to anybody. I know people on all levels of the government. But I brought this to you because I know you’re the best, we’re the best.”
Mystic and Bruiser kept their heads down. I didn’t know about them, but I would feel very guilty and definitely a little “in trouble” if TL were putting me on the spot right now.
“Look at me,” Nalani requested.
Mystic and Bruiser raised their eyes.
Nalani released her white knuckled fingers and laid them flat on her chest. “I’m here asking you as a mother to find my daughter, our daughter.”
That hit home. Although I had very few memories of my mother, I knew she would spare no resource to find me if I’d been kidnapped. Heck, if the roles were reversed, I’d go to the ends of the earth to find any missing family member. And I knew my team members would do the same.
Inhaling a long, soft breath, Mystic closed his eyes. It might have been my imagination but I swore he was listening to something.
A few seconds ticked by and no one said a word as Mystic sat there meditating. I looked around the room to see what everyone thought, and they were all staring at him.
After a few more seconds, he gave a slight nod, opened his eyes and gazed straight into Nalani’s. “You may definitely count me in.”
With a shaky smile, she nodded. “Thank you.” And then she turned to Bruiser.
“I’m sorry,” Bruiser immediately apologized, looking from TL to Nalani, and back to TL. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I acted so immature in thinking of myself, when people I love are in need of my talents. Sir, you may unequivocally count on me in any way.”
Closing his eyes in what looked like pure relief, TL slowly turned his back to us. “Thank you.” Then he opened the door and walked straight from the room with out dismissing us.
I couldn’t recall a time I’d seen him struggle so hard to maintain composure.
He’d always been there for us. We would most certainly be there for him.
***
I worked the whole next day along side Chapling writing and rewriting code. I just wasn’t happy, and neither was Chapling. We had to create one bang up Combat-Thrash (fighting analysis) program and all we had as of now was mediocre at best. Five days was all we had left. Seven was all Mystic and David had.
“Maybe we need to see the training stages of a superior fighter,” I suggested. “All we’ve watched and researched is the end product. I think we need to see exactly, in person, how a fighter becomes
a fighter.”
Chapling snapped his finger and pointed at me. “Smartgirl. Let’s go.”
Camera in hand, we made our way up to Sub Floor Two where we knew Bruiser and the guys were training. We texted Bruiser to let her know we were in the elevator, and she let us in.
Chapling and I found an empty corner, set our camera up, and settled ourselves on a pile of mats. Laptops in front of each of us, we tuned into Bruiser and the guys.
And I tried very hard not to stare at David’s sweaty, clingy T-shirt. “Can you recap what you’ve done so far and what the training schedule will be like until competition day?”
“Conditioning, sparring, specific technique,” Bruiser ticked off her fingers. “Conditioning, sparring, specific technique. We cycle through those three things, spending two hours on each and then starting back over, making for a packed twelve hours. We eat a high protein, high fiber diet to repair muscle tears. And each day I introduce a new technique. A new art. David and Mystic have to be as well rounded as possible. They have to do in seven days what others spend years perfecting.”
Bruiser crossed the floor and grabbed up a handful of four-foot bamboo poles. “Kumite is one of the three sections of karate. It’s training against an adversary. Balance is a key here and learning the basics by feel. If you get your lights knocked out, you’re going to be disorientated. You need to have a mental scope for a guide, a clock in your head to orient you until your senses come back. If they come back.”
She handed TL, David, Mystic, and Jonathan each a pole. “Karate involves modification. It’s about your senses, muscle memory, and imagery. You have to be able to use your wits with strategy. You have to be unpredictable. One of the key factors in winning or at least holding your own in a fight is the ability to anticipate your opponent’s movements.”
“Allow me to demonstrate.” She pulled a black scarf from the elastic waist band of her shorts and tied it around her eyes. She lifted her hands and waved them on with her fingers. “Hit me.”
Mystic and Jonathan exchanged a glance. TL and David exchanged a glance. Chapling and I exchanged a glance.
Fight to the Finish Page 6