Hullo there Sparks.
Are you seeing the strings?
Are you seeing all the dancing puppets, going through the motions?
Sometimes we can’t help but go along with circumstances that are beyond our control, letting others pull our strings until we are so disoriented that we don’t know which way to turn. Like a tree in a tornado, if you’re too stiff you break but straw waves with the wind, no matter how strong, and stays rooted to the ground. When the storm is over it’s still there, standing tall.
This is your last installment for this year. I’m not sure exactly when I will be back but it should be somewhere around the middle of January. So I’m leaving you with a nice cliffhanger to keep your imaginative juices flowing, and once again, I wish you the best of the season.
Have a merry and blessed Christmas and a prosperous start to 2024!
INDEX | Chapter 5 | Scenes 1 & 2 | Scenes 3 & 4 | Scenes 5 - 8 | Scenes 9 & 10 | Scenes 11 & 12 | Scenes 13 - 16 | Scene 17 | Scene 18 | Scenes 19 & 20 | Scenes 21 - 23 | Next Chapter →
Previously: When Luke’s slow progress with Elle is no longer enough to satisfy the PG he starts to lose his support from the Authority. Out of frustration, they start taking interventions making Luke’s life decidedly uncomfortable.
“Will you help me get Elle?” Luke asks me, in a bone-chilling tone after getting off the call he’s been on most of the morning. I have been listening for a while. It was not a pleasant conversation. I nod while he works something out on his tab.
“We need to stop by the lab.”
As I stand in the doorway, Luke grabs a prepared syringe full of a milky white liquid and shoves it into my hands. Then goes back for a small bottle labeled “Fire,” the whisky, and a tumbler.
“Not like this,” I say, taken aback.
“They are going to take her, Logan.” He says his voice ringing with certainty. “They will take her and they will do much worse than I will.”
“Luke, please. Just give us a little more time.”
“I would if I could, you know I would, but my contact with the Authority isn’t supporting me in this anymore. Morgan gave me an ultimatum: before noon tomorrow or they take over, and the consequences of that will reach further than merely losing Elle.”
He pushes past me, walking fast.
Two weeks ago…
The Drakisthan warrior steps into the ring, with her ungainly gait. It’s a female, hard to tell, but I remember the males have darker scales, more brown than green.
She grins at me, stretching out and swishing her tail, slapping it forcefully against the mat as she takes her stance. I stand by the door despite their beckoning. I hate that they are all staring, waiting for me to make the next move.
“Show me what you can do.” The General says like someone who is used to being obeyed unconditionally. I tilt my chin upward, and plant my feet, huffing out a breath that says, “Bite me.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but I can see the agitation building in his body language. I count the beats of my heart. It takes ten for him to make up his mind, but before he can say anything, Tom pipes up cheerfully from the back, “I’ll warm her up, it’s been a while since I had some practice.”
The corners of my lips twitch upwards all on their own at the General’s surprise as he looks round at Tom who hops effortlessly over the top rope into the ring.
As the two opponents size each other up, I find my feet carrying me closer for a better look.
Even though Tom wears his hair short, like a commoner, there is no mistaking the nobility in his bearing. His broad shoulders and muscular limbs fit so well together; no part of him is the tiniest bit out of balance and he moves like a fighter, lithe and graceful despite his size.
Next to him, the Drakisthan looks even more like an animal. Her snubbed maw of grey teeth and short bandy legs are repulsive, almost grotesque and her long clawed fingers, all different lengths look like they were stolen from some overgrown lizard. Tom stands, facing her head on, he’s a whole head taller, maybe half again as heavy.
The Drakisthan gets a nod from the General and lays into him. First a hook, then a sharp calf kick, Tom dodges, and knocks her back, leaving an opening for her to step in for a combo, and then he catches her in a clinch.
I watch enraptured, as she tries and fails to roll out, then unleashes a volley of punches to take full advantage of the tight position. Tom moves, missing the chance for a headlock and throwing her back. She rakes him across the face as she falls, threatening his eyes and raising welts on his cheek. I have no doubt that had this been a combat situation, those welts would have been tears.
Keep her at arm’s length. Pick your shots.
I can’t help but grin. Tom’s form is not perfect, I can see he is used to having a size advantage, and although he is powerful, he’s still slow. He's not used to close combat. I see dozens of openings, and the Drakisthan takes advantage of more than half of them. Tom weathers the onslaught, blocking where he can, until she makes a mistake, and then he capitalizes. She steps back, lining up for another power-fist combo, with footwork that suggests it’ll be followed by a reverse side kick. Tom gets her with his left elbow, and knocks her down with his right, putting her in the perfect position for a front chokehold, and it is over in seconds. She doesn’t even get the chance to tap.
I squeal with delight, hopping up and down, and clapping, blind to the fact that 15 people are watching me. It’s been ages since I saw a good fight. The General laughs out loud and I sober right up. The Drakisthan’s buddies drag her off the mat.
Tom is looking at me. They all are, but they don’t matter. Tom smiles and my lips twitch again, and despite my reluctance to dance to the General’s tune, I want to fight Tom. He has been watching me for months. He has been working out with me, observing, critiquing, and supporting me, all that time, without pressuring me at all. I want to see if he can challenge me. I want to see if I still have it in me to win when my life isn’t on the line.
I climb through the second and third ropes and stand in the middle with him. Here we go.
* * *
Jayden pushes me down and the light changes from white to blue, the moment my feet leave the ground. I fall hard and it feels like a heavy weight is pressing down on me. It won’t let me up.
”Again!” Teag barks and the light goes white again. I crawl to my feet and wipe the blood out of my eyes. My left forearm hurts a lot.
I adjust my stance to compensate. Jayden is two years ahead of me, and even though he’s bigger, I’m still faster than him, my footwork is better, and I’m a smaller target. I keep my stance low, turn to the left, to protect my arm, bob and roll, putting all my weight into my right body shots, and kicks and the next time the blue light comes on it is Jayden that is down, and Teag is smiling.
* * *
Tom taps me gently on the cheek, his control is incredible. I slip under most of his attacks and land one or two good kidney shots. With no energy, just body weight, I am no match for him. I’m faster but my blows lack the power to do any damage whatsoever. He smiles as he takes my jabs without defending. I leave him an opening or two to exploit and goad him into a compromising situation. A little energy and he would feel my dropkick to his gut, but as is, all he does is laugh it off.
We carry on for around ten minutes, while I push the offensive, keeping Tom on his back foot until the General calls a halt. It takes all my self-control to keep from turning my rage on the General when he insists that Tom tags out and sends a soldier in his place. I’ve only just warmed up to a light sweat.
This one is foxlike, and covered in soft fudgy fur with black and white markings. Her pointy ears rotate to catch the tiniest sounds as she climbs over the top rope. She’s a little taller than me, not much heavier, but with a more developed upper body and thighs. She takes her stance and I am about to close in for a quick knockout strike when she drops to all fours and hops around the ring like a rubber bouncy ball. I am still trying to get a feel for how she moves when she comes at me, suddenly. I sidestep. She adjusts, and I block. She tags me on the right wrist, a deep scratch that was meant for my face. She’s fast.
I back up quickly and take my stance, form five, crouching for maximum agility. She grins, her jaw open a little so that her long canines don’t poke at her thin black lips.
For fifty heartbeats, I stay on the defensive, dodging, evading, keeping her at a distance, while I sharpen my senses and observe. There’s something in the way she moves, a deviation. When she puts her weight on her feet. I match her step for step, and my blood drips randomly all over the mat as she prances around. It’s the right one. Test it. I come in close behind her, she flips into a handstand, sending both feet in my direction, straight at my head. There’s my chance. I reach out for her left foot, slow enough for her to see. She breaks off, flipping back to her feet and there it is, a slightly deeper bend on the right knee, favoring the leg.
I smile, drop, and sweep my calf across sharply with a tiny burst of energy just as she commits her weight to the weakened limb and her right shin snaps under her like a twig.
I smirk at the General and walk away, knowing that the significance is not lost on him.
* * *
Things seem to get a little better from that point. Tom comes to spar with me every day, but Logan and Luke have backed off. I see neither of them. Tom laughs whenever I surprise him. He doesn’t point out my mistakes, he doesn’t talk much at all really. He shows me a few moves, we practice for an hour or two then he leaves and the next day he is back.
The sparring uses more energy than just bodyweight training. Tom seems to be enjoying it too. With no one watching I am able to put a little power into my offense, and it goes easier with me as a result.
I have been practicing his name in the mirror since our first sparring match.
“Tom.” I manage to whisper, on my hundredth try, making my lips round for the ‘toh’ before closing them on the ‘m,’ but I am all alone, there’s no one to hear it.
The next day Luke comes to my room at lunchtime. I was just about to enjoy the deliciously warm ham and cheese sandwich Tom brought me, before he left for his coaching job when I noticed Logan and Luke moving in my direction. Their coming together is never a good sign. Luke must want to do some more tests, it’s been a couple of months since his last data update.
I set aside my half-eaten sandwich when they knock on the door and stand to greet them, with a smile for a change. It’s been great spending time with Tom, but I have missed Logan. I wonder if Luke is still upset with me about the sparring incident.
Luke wastes no time, and for a second I’m so shocked that he manages to corner me. Logan stands by the door, with his hands behind his back while Luke asks me the same questions; “Where did you come from? Where is your family? What were you running from when we found you? How did you get the injuries you had? Tell me everything!” He demands aggressively, holding my shoulders and shaking me as he shouts in my face.
Shock grips me, and questions form in my mind. What is going on with you Luke? Why are you so upset? Why are you behaving so strangely? Logan looks away as if he doesn’t care to watch. I frown trying to twist around to extricate myself from Luke’s grip. His fingers dig into my muscles when I pull away.
“Please, Elle. Talk to me. I need answers.” He pleads, not letting go. I don’t know what to do.
I stare at him, breathing deeply to control my raging emotions. I open my mouth to let the words out but they won’t come. My mind is racing. The sentences fragment as they form. The words dance in my head and shatter into sounds before I can make sense of them.
I try, breathing hard, “I- Lu- pl- ah-” I manage to force incoherent noises out of my throat, huffing through the sting each one evokes. I bite my lip, hard, tears starting to burn my eyes. I want to. I really want to.
“Tom,” I whisper, looking away, and Luke lets me go. I stumble backward into the corner, my head hurts. Logan stands closer.
I thought Luke was kind. I thought he was understanding. I thought that maybe, one day I could talk to him, one day I might call him more than captor.
"Elle." Luke begins, strangely tentative with Logan’s hand on his shoulder. I regard him quizzically, unsure where this is going. There is some exchange going on between them that I am not aware of. Some Mind Smith trick. I notice a shift in their stance. Like the two of them are mirroring each other. Logan’s body language says what Luke’s words do. "I have to ask you... I have... There are some questions, that I need you... That I need you to answer." I shake my head, and reach for the tab. Luke stops me before I touch it.
"We don’t have time to play twenty questions. I don’t have time to guess which yes or no answers will get me the right information. I need answers, actual answers, not just negative or affirmative responses."
I shrug and incline my head apologetically, feeling oddly calm, accepting his position with less resistance than I should be feeling.
"I understand that you can't, but I am afraid I must insist." They say together, Luke with words, Logan without. I nod, slowly.
"There is a way, that I can help you," Luke says, and I think I am starting to get the gist of it. He exhales, "I am a telepath."
I hold his gaze steadily, slowly shaking my head as clarity dawns and tears spring unbidden to my eyes. Logan looks away and Luke keeps speaking.
"That means I can, I am able to, if you would allow me," He stammers, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
"I have the ability to enter your mind and-"
"No!" I interrupt, the involuntary response forms on my lips with the familiar sting before I can think about it, goosebumps rising on my skin as every hair on my body stands up straight.
"Elle," he cautions, I shake my head vehemently, nostrils flaring in fear and disbelief.
"No," I plead, even though it hurts, tears well in my eyes.
"I'm sorry," Luke says, his voice dripping with sincerity. He closes his eyes and turns to Logan and nods, then Logan jabs a needle into my neck.
* * *
"No! No, no! Please no!" I scream tears streaming down my cheeks. I try to fight, hitting my fists against Logan's back as he picks me up and carries me off. Whatever was in that syringe, it works fast. I am unable to summon the power to save myself. Once again I am nothing but a helpless child.
I feel strange like there’s a lag between wanting to move and moving, like it takes a half second for the instruction to go through.
I remember James and the way he looked at me and the way it felt to have him poking around inside my head digging into my thoughts altering things as it pleased him.
It has been so long since I had to fight off a hacker.
It has been so long since I have had no choice.
How did we get here? I ask myself as Elle's small fists beat against my back. She screams, begs, and kicks her legs but her feeble struggles are meaningless. I try not to think about what I am doing. Her helplessness and despair wash over me in waves, but I push it aside and focus on the moment. It's this or we lose her. I remind myself. It's this or she is sent off to die on some strange planet to fight in some war that has nothing to do with her. We have no choice.
Luke will be kinder than anyone the PG could come up with instead. Luke will not resort to torture tactics. Luke will preserve her identity and her mental stability and he won't hurt her unnecessarily.
I walk calmly to the northern tower, tracing the well-remembered steps to Luke's interrogation room, as he follows a few steps behind. We pause outside the hidden doorway just long enough to trigger the phase mechanism, walk straight through. I put Elle down gently on the table in the center, and turn back to face a wall of solid metal and rock. Here we go.
Next Time: Logan and Luke have Elle inside the room in the northern tower. Let the interrogation commence.
Thanks so much for reading! If you like, please:
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and as always, I love hearing what you think so, feel free to:
I really enjoyed these scenes! Especially the aspect of being in Elle's head during the fight. I see Elle's situation playing out a few diferent ways, potentially. She stays with Luke and gang, by being agreeable with the General, and the adventures are more healthy for her recovery from the "James and crew" trauma. Or the PG takes her and turns her into a weapon, but every potential path from this branch ends with Elle killing a ton of people. Or she eacapes and moves to South Africa and starts writing her story on Substack, disguised as fiction.
Admit it Jenny, or should I say Mysty?
Oh my! This is quite the cliffhanger!