“Oh sure. Suresuresure.” Chapling waddled across the lab to his station and climbed up in his chair.
“Thanks,” I whispered to Randy, knowing he was trying to keep Chapling sidetracked.
“You’re welcome.”
While the guys logged in and started talking, I situated myself at my station and got down to work.
I lost myself in my own little world, analyzing the baseline data Chapling had recorded. I took the film footage of Bruiser and the guys and turned it into 3-D animation. I applied basic principles of Geometry and physics in analyzing each movement and what could have been done differently for the guys to succeed in their fight with Bruiser.
I tweaked the 3-D animation, redoing the fight, and observed the new results. I watched as an animated figure of Mystic forced Bruiser into a compromising situation. It wasn’t likely that anyone would ever defeat Bruiser in real life, but watching it in animation was really darn cool.
Actually, the whole thing reminded me of a complicated board game. Fighting was definitely a thinking man’s game that used a combination of mathematics and fighting skill to win.
I factored more options and measured the outcomes and angles. I definitely needed more data, both internal and external. I needed to observe more training to visualize their muscle movement from the inside out.
I turned to Chapling and with a glance around the room, noted Randy had left. “Hey, are those Influence Sway Skins ready?”
Oblivious to me, Chapling fiddled with a new hologram machine we’d gotten a few weeks ago. It portrayed some sort of military game. I wondered why he was fiddling with that when we had a mission to pull together.
“Chap?”
Eyes glued to the hologram image in front of him, he waved his finger incased in a virtual reality wrap and made one warrior stab another.
“CHAPLING?”
He jerked back. “What?”
“Are those Influence Sway Skins ready? I want to get some internal muscular data.”
“Oh yeah. Yeahyeahyeah. They’re ready.”
I nodded. “Good.” And then my gaze wandered to the hologram game as he went back to playing it. Again, I wondered why he was wasting his time when . . .
My thoughts died off as I got drawn in watching one warrior battle another. Once again that obligatory light bulb went off in my head. Hologram. We needed to make the Combat-Thrash program a hologram. Nobody else presenting for Harry Noor was doing a hologram.
My heart kicked in with my idea I couldn’t wait to share. “Chap?”
He didn’t glance away from his game. “Yeah?”
“Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?”
“Probably. Incorporate holograms into the Combat Thrash Program?”
“Yep, we’re thinking the same thing.” No wonder he was playing the game.
Chapling spun on his stool in my direction. He pointed his wrapped finger back and forth between the two of us. “We rock the house.”
I laughed. “That we do.”
***
Four days left until Chapling and I went in front of Harry Noor. Six days until Mystic and David did. That’s all I could think of as I strolled into the cafeteria the next morning for a quick breakfast. I ran straight into Mystic and Bruiser. They both gave me a ‘look’. It took me a second to remember that the last words between us weren’t exactly pleasant.
Granted, I had apologized to Bruiser, but even I knew that had been a last minute, don’t-hurt-me-too-bad apology. Right before she, of course, had put my lights out.
Without a second thought, I went straight over and sat down across from them. “Listen, I know I lost my patience and was mean. I know it. You know it. Everyone screws up at sometime or another. So can we please just make up and be friends again?”
They both just stared at me.
“Please?” I prompted.
Mystic shrugged as he shoved a chunk of watermelon in his mouth. “I suppose.”
“Oh, gee, thanks.”
Bruiser folded her arms. “I guess I owe you an apology, too.”
I raised my brows. “Oh?”
“You know,” she waved her fingers through the air, “for putting you in a coma and all that.”
“Yeah, well, Dr. Gretchen said my body just didn’t respond to the resetting-the-meridian-point thing.”
Mystic and Bruiser exchanged a sly glance.
I frowned. “What?” And then it dawned at me. “You didn’t reset my meridian points, did you?”
She smirked. “Not really.”
My jaw dropped. “Bruiser!”
She lifted her hands. “Hey, you want to be all irritated with me and Mystic, it’s the least you deserved.”
My jaw dropped even further. And then, I couldn’t help it, I laughed. After all, it wasn’t literally a coma, more like a very long nap.
Mystic and Bruiser exchanged a knuckle tap.
Ha ha. Jokes on me.
Parrot sat down beside me, sliding a small plate of bacon in front of me. “It’s the peppered kind. I know you love it.”
I gave him a smile. “Thanks.”
Parrot took a sip of his cinnamon coffee. Since being introduced to it on our last mission, it seemed to be the only thing he drank nowadays. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just Bruiser and her silliness.”
Wirenut sat down on the other side of me. “Hey, no fair having fun without me.”
We all smiled.
“Where’s Beaker and Cat?” Bruiser asked.
Wirenut shrugged. “Something about girl talk.”
“What do you do when you do that?” Bruiser asked, bringing my attention to who she was staring at—Mystic.
With his eyes closed, he sat peacefully, seemingly lost in some other world. He’d looked like that in the conference room, too.
Mystic didn’t respond at first and right when I thought he wouldn’t answer, his lips curled into a soft smile. “I’m listening to my mother.”
None of us had a response to that, and in fact, didn’t even exchange a glance. Our gazes were fixed on Mystic.
His eyelids fluttered open, and I saw peace there. I could only imagine how it would feel to hear my mother’s voice.
And then he told us about his mother, his father, his baby sister. And how he’d been raised in a commune in the hills of TN. How people fueled by hate had viciously killed his family, not only blood, but those he had grown up with.
Wirenut spoke next. He shared his horrid past and how he’d watched his parents and older brothers be slaughtered by his evil uncle. He described growing up in boys’ homes and the criminal path he’d taken that had finally gotten him recruited by TL.
Bruiser went next, describing abandonment as a small girl and being found by a wonderful man who raised her and other street kids. She told us about learning to fight by this man, Red, and how she hoped to one day see him again.
Parrot picked up the conversation, sharing his past. His mother being sold into slavery, his father dying, his grandmother sick and raising him. He described being manipulated by his Indian chief to translate deals involving children and women being sold into slavery.
Somewhere in the conversation Beaker and Cat sat down. Cat had been raised by the same man who slaughtered Wirenut’s family. She’d been lied to her whole life and found her first truth and freedom when joining the Specialists.
Beaker described her abusive, neglectful mother. How she’d been pegged a drug user in school and no one liked her. How she’d lived out of the locker rooms in the high school and because of a fluke explosion she’d caused, found her way to the Specialists.
And then I shared my story, losing my parents in a plane crash. Moving from foster family to foster family. Being pegged a freak because my IQ made people scared of me. And how David had been my very first friend. David had recruited me into this new lifestyle.
When we finished, none of us uttered a word. But the feeling of family and unit
y was so strong between all of us, I was sure they felt it, too.
The conversation picked up again as Beaker told us about the very unexpected news that her and David were siblings.
Bruiser dropped a bomb, revealing her and TL were raised by the same man.
Parrot shared stories of being reunited with his mother.
Mystic revealed he’d known all along about our pasts.
Wirenut pulled his shirt up and showed the horrid scar he always hid.
I told them I’d just found out after my last mission that I had a sister.
I didn’t know, we didn’t know, if we were saying stuff we weren’t supposed to say. Things TL might not want us sharing. But we didn’t care. It flowed from us. None of us held back.
We shared our fears, our hopes, our desires. We put ourselves out there, raw and impure.
It was amazing, truly amazing, the level our bond deepened. It was like we’d been waiting for this moment for over a year. Secrets revealed. Souls bare. Each of us knew without a doubt that we would be connected forever.
Under the table, Parrot took my hand. I grasped Wirenut’s, and he clasped Cat’s. She reached across the table and took Beaker’s, and her and Bruiser linked fingers. On it went to Mystic and back to Parrot, all of us quietly holding hands, and for the first time truly becoming one.
***
That afternoon Bruiser wanted everybody to meet outside for the day’s training. So carrying my video cam and tripod, I pulled my laptop strap further up my shoulder and crossed the yard to the barn.
That weird sensation hit me again.
Someone’s watching me.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Stopping in my tracks, I turned a slow circle, searching the ranch’s property: the house, pool, the hills, trees, and the fence in the distance that ran the ranch’s perimeter. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but still, that sensation hit me strong.
Mystic came up beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
He nodded to the barn. “Let’s go.”
We entered the barn to see Bruiser in the corner shadow boxing. Before this mission, I, of course, had never used the term shadow boxing, but now I felt comfortable throwing it around.
While she continued doing her thing, I set my cam and tripod up and pressed record.
Bruiser stopped boxing the air and dropped to her fists for a rapid round of pushups. She boinged to her feet and turned around. “Good you’re here.”
David, TL, and Jonathan walked in behind us.
Bruiser bounced from foot to foot, like I’d seen athletes do when they were trying to keep their bodies warm. “Okay.” She clapped her hands. “Six days left to make Mystic and David competitive fighters. Today we’re doing a little bit of everything. Striking, take down, submission. Like I said, MMA.”
“And right when you’re the most tired,” Bruiser continued, “we’re taking it outside in the fashion of the Greeks. We’re going to throw rocks, run piggy backed with one another, bench press each other, military press wood beams, and squats until you drop. No modern day equipment. We’re going to condition our bodies like the warriors used to.”
I got exhausted just listening to the rundown.
A shadow flicked in my peripheral vision, and I turned to see an average sized man with a bushy gray beard step into the barn.
“Sounds like the Molly I know,” the man said.
“Red!” Molly squealed and sprinted across the barn.
With a smile, I watched Bruiser and Red embrace.
“How’s my spunky Molly?” Red asked, squeezing her tight.
She returned the squeeze. “Oh, Red, I missed you so much.”
Ever since I had known her, Bruiser had always been happy go lucky, fun, never took anything serious. And she pretty much wore a perpetual grin on her face. But seeing her here with Red brought out a glow in her that I had never seen before. She seemed to beam with excitement and for the first time since I’d known her, her body came across relaxed, content.
Which was funny, seeing as how I had never noticed that she seemed uncontent in any way until now. It was amazing how much body language showed a person’s emotions.
“How do you feel?” Bruiser asked as she stepped back from Red. “You look great.”
Smiling down at her, he tweaked her chin. “I’m fine. Perfect in fact.”
“How long are you here for?” she asked.
Red glanced over her head to TL. “We’ll find out in a second.”
TL crossed the barn to where Red stood and went straight into his arms. No handshake. No greeting. Just a heartfelt, long hug. Red turned his head and whispered something into TL’s ear, and he nodded his head.
Although TL’s back was to me, I imagined his eyes squeezed tight as he received the warm embrace. I probably didn’t, but I thought I heard TL sniff back tears. That sound, that small sniffle, brought tears to my own eyes, and at that moment, I truly felt TL’s pain.
And for the first time ever, I saw TL in a different light. I saw him vulnerable, just a man fighting for his family. I saw him human, as weird as that sounds, and not as some sort of super hero immune to pain and able to accomplish anything.
Red whispered something else to TL and gave him a pat on the back. TL discreetly rubbed his face on Red’s shirt, took a deep breath, and turned to us.
“Team,” TL addressed us. “I’d like you to meet the man who raised both me and Bruiser, our father, Mr. Red Cartlynn.”
By ‘father’ I knew he didn’t mean blood related, but it made no difference. Here stood the man who raised both TL and Bruiser. How crazy was that? Every day around this place revealed something new—that was for sure.
“Please feel free to call him Red,” TL continued. “You are standing in the presence of one of the most highly decorated veterans in our nation. An Army Ranger, sniper, with four combat tours in Vietnam. Later recruited into the CIA. Went MIA in southeast Asia. Crossed the border into Thailand. Studied under the world’s best fighters. He is one of the elite. However, he still suffers from the lingering affects of hepatitis and malaria while he was a POW.” TL glanced over to Red. “So he’s going to take it easy.”
Red chuckled. “Complete burnout and being double crossed by a few unnamed people sent me into hiding. Glad that I did. I would have never met Tommy and Molly.”
Tommy? That cute nickname for TL made me smile.
TL pointed to each of us, introducing us. “That’s GiGi, our computer specialist. And Mystic, our clairvoyant. David, my right hand. And Jonathan in charge of physical training. You’ll the meet the rest tonight at dinner.”
We all smiled and nodded hello.
“Red,” TL continued, “has agreed to join us here at the ranch as our warfare specialist.”
“Really?” Bruiser nearly squealed.
Red nodded. “Really. And I’m also going to be assisting in training you all for this mission.”
Her excitement was so evident it nearly vibrated off of her.
Red waved his hand in the air. “Okay, I’ve interrupted you enough. Carry on.”
Straightening her tank top, Bruiser turned to us. “Alrighty, before we move into Greek conditioning, I want to feel the anger. It doesn’t matter what your personality is, when you are competing, you have to maintain a level, thinking head and at the same time channel fury. You want power behind your muscles, and fury, mixed with concentration, is the way to obtain it.”
She turned to Mystic and her face transitioned into obvious doubt. “Are you going to be able to channel fury?”
Mystic shrugged, not looking too convinced. “Sure.”
“Just think of what really pisses you off, and use that,” Bruiser slammed her right fist into her other hand, “to put power behind your punch.”
I turned to Mystic, doubting anything ever pissed him off. “Well?”
His jaw clenched. “My foster father.”
His foster father? Hmmm . . . I wondered at t
he type of man who could get this reaction out of peaceful, in-touch-with-the-world Mystic. His foster father must have been a real jerk.
Bruiser pointed her finger at Mystic. “You’re really irritated. I can see it on your face. That’s good. And sometimes that’s not so good. Depending on your opponent, it’ll work to your advantage to either show that fury or mask it.” She walked straight up to him. “Hit me with your fist.”
Jaw still clenched, Mystic shook his head.
She got right in his face. “I’m not doing this again with you. When I tell you to do something, you do it. We have a little over a week to train for this fight. So enough already. Think of your foster father and hit me.”
Mystic reared back and slammed his fist into Bruiser’s gut.
I sucked in a breath.
Mystic sucked in a breath.
And Bruiser smiled. “Not bad.”
Not bad? I’d be bent over moaning from that. Mystic wasn’t exactly a small dude.
He reached for her. “I’m sorry. Oh my God, Bruiser, I’m so sorry.”
She smiled even bigger. “Felt good, didn’t it?”
Mystic frowned. “No.”
Bruiser wagged her finger in his face. “Liar. You know that felt good. Come on, admit it.”
Mystic just looked at her.
“Come on,” she egged him on, “admit it.”
He shrugged. “Okay, a little.”
She jabbed her finger in the air. “Ah-hah! It would’ve felt superb if it would have been your foster father, huh?”
Mystic reluctantly nodded, clearly not liking this violent side of him. He reached for her again. “Seriously, you okay?”
She waved him off. “Didn’t even feel it. Okay,” she turned to all of us. “Originally, I wanted to do some striking and MMA work first, but I’ve changed my mind. Let’s do a little Greek style conditioning.” Bruiser pointed to me. “You sure you want to do this?”
I nodded. “Experiencing the training and the world of a fighter first hand will give me a ‘one up’ on those designers who will be presenting to Harry Noor. And afterward I’ll take statistics on everybody. Using Chapling’s Influence Sway Skins, I’ll trace pulse velocity, strapping adroitness, fortitude, faction, lactic acerbic dissolve, and a few others. I’ll amalgamate that with my Combat Thrash Program and come up with at least three variations to arrangements that will outrival a unit feat.”
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