Lorenzo Masters has a dream--to be the first person in his family to graduate from college. At fifteen, he is already well on his way with a full ride academic scholarship to Clearwater University, but little does the freshman know he is about to get an education in life, love, and growing up. Morgan Everett on the other hand takes his academics very lightly, as do the other guys of House Orison, but everything changes when they find themselves the unexpected caretakers of an adorable and impressionable Lore. From mentorship to romance, each member of House Orison finds a way to deal with their newfound freshman fifteen.
Lore has gathered his squad together, but before they can join House Orison's sixth squad, each of them has to pass a trial by combat. This goes for Lore as well, but when he finds out who he will be facing Lore suddenly feels conflicted. As a slow creeping doom overshadows Lore's normally cheerful disposition, a sudden rainstorm and the resulting illness casts Lore into a world of his own doubts and fears. A light is cast on Lore's past and the greatest fear he holds in his heart is revealed in this new exciting installment of Freshman Fifteen!?
DISCLAIMER
The following story is completely fictitious and any resemblances to persons living or dead are entirely coincidental. Just as in life, this story contains graphic scenes of love and hate, life and death, joy and sorrow, as well as sexually explicit scenes which may involve minors. If it is unlawful for you to view such media, or such material makes you feel uncomfortable, then please read no further than this warning.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I would appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer me, but anything that lacks any form of redirection or remedy will be ignored. Also, anyone commenting on how I need to make things hotter and steamier between certain characters will be equally ignored. The sexual content of my stories, while present, does not make up the majority of the storytelling. Send legitimate questions or comments to: faretheeforeverwell@yahoo.com.
FRESHMAN FIFTEEN!? -- EPISODE THREE
The group of novitiates faced towards the burning pyre as they were directed by those "who have come before" and, except for a brief fit of coughing from Whit Riley as the smoke from the billowing fire founds his face in the darkness of night, the cool air echoed only the crackling flames. Each of the five initiates had passed a series of sacred rites, some more readily than others, but now at the end of the ceremony they would find out if they would be accepted into the full confidence of House Orison.
Lore Masters looked around nervously at his gathered candidates as he stood with them, having had to pass all the same trials as they. Obviously Whit Riley, the ten year old patrol captain assistant would be here, but he was surprised the other three said yes. To Lore's left stood the tall and beautiful Melody King, a sassy yet nurturing sophomore Lore worked with at the Clearwater campus store, and while she openly detested Warren Wallace she had agreed to help Lore mostly out of spite to the cowboy who had proclaimed she "couldn't cut it." To Lore's right was Brian Evers, a freshman who didn't seem to standout too much, but Lore had become fast friends with him during their shared Bio 1 class since they were assigned lab partners. Brooding quietly behind Lore--as if a pouting child--was Cole Greenberg, whom despite his outward appearances had actually enjoyed himself during the evening.
"You, who are gathered here, have come freely and of your own will," Morgan began from beneath the cowl of his ceremonial frock, "to support and aid Lorenzo Masters who, like you, has been found worthy this night to advance to the next phase of this journey. You were tested to see if you possessed the qualities of teamwork, ingenuity, and dedication. You were all, surprisingly, found not wanting in these qualities."
Morgan directed his last remark subtlety towards Cole Greenberg as the freshman adjusted his stance nervously.
"But your journey does not end here." Ian added as he picked up in the script where Morgan left off. "It is not enough to be dedicated to protecting others; you must also be capable of acting in defense of those who cannot defend themselves. This has been House Orison's sacred duty since it was founded, and in the coming week you will prove your resolve to House Orison with a trial by combat against the five patrol captains standing before you."
The collective group of initiates turned their heads to glare at Lore.
"Now, before you turn on Lore," Ian quickly added, "remember that he had no knowledge of this trial, and he himself will have to endure a trial by combat. Furthermore, each of you will be paired with a patrol captain for the upcoming week, and will be given one-on-one training in the arts of self... defense... House Orison acknowledges initiate Riley who can please stop waving his hand."
Riley put his hand down.
"Do we get to choose who we get to be buddies with?" the boy asked as he eagerly looked to his coach, Chase Dunn, who was silently rubbing his temples through his cowl.
"I don't see why not." Morgan said slyly. "Let me see, Riley you probably want to be paired with Chase, right?"
"Yeah!" the boy said almost forgetting everything he had been told about maintaining the sanctity of the ceremony. "I mean, yes please."
"That sounds fair to me." Morgan said as Chase gave him a disbelieving look, "Initiate Melody, who would you like...?"
"Anyone but Warren Wallace." Melody said without hesitation.
"Alright, you will be paired with Artisan than." Morgan replied as he looked around the circle. "Initiate Brian, if you don't mind I am going to pair you with Ian, and Initiate Cole will be pared with Warren. That, of course, means Lore will be paired with me. Does that sound agreeable to everybody?"
The gathered group looked around at their partner and no one complained openly. Riley and Lore, were of course, happy with the choices made while Cole was a bit less enthused.
"Good." Morgan confirmed. "Now that everybody knows who they will be fighting at the end of the week, I will announce who each of the initiates will be training with."
Both Riley and Lore's jaws dropped.
"Riley, you will be training with Artisan this week in preparation for fighting Chase." Morgan declared as the stoic swordsman almost lost his composure. The young boy was rendered mute, for once.
"Melody, since you have chosen to fight `anyone BUT Warren Wallace,' you will train with Warren this week in preparation for fighting Artisan." Morgan continued as he received a dagger-like glare from the sophomore which was only half as deadly as the look the smiling Warren Wallace received.
"Brian, you will be training with Chase this week in preparation for fighting Ian, and Lore will train with Ian in preparation for fighting me." Morgan wrapped up as he tried to ignore Lore's hurt expression. "This, of course, means Cole will train with me in preparation for his fight against Warren. This decision is final and in one week, each of you will endure a trial by combat with your designated opponent. Train well, and may you all do House Orison proud."
With a wave of his hand, he ordered the other four patrol captains to douse the fire with buckets of water and the entire group was plunged into darkness. As the group quietly dispersed, Morgan knew almost everyone involved in the ceremony, including a few of the other patrol captains, hated him for his choices, but he had a plan and he knew he had made the right choices. He only hoped the others would see the trial through to the end and discover the reasons why.
"I'm so sorry." Lore tried to apologize again as Cole continued to sweep the floor of the campus store ignoring his pleas for forgiveness. This had been going on for the last ten minutes and the younger teen was near tears. Finally, Cole stopped and turned to face Lore.
"You're `sorry?'" Cole repeated. "Thanks to you, not only do I have to fight my boss at the end of the week, but the only way I will have a chance of beating him without getting my ass totally kicked is if I get training from the one person in House Orison that probably hates my guts more than Warren Wallace! My life is just fucking dandy, Lore, what is there to be sorry about?"
The sarcasm was not lost on Lore Masters.
"You think you have it bad?" Melody said as she read the paper while `working.' "I have to train with the man. At least at the end of the week you get a free chance to knock his lights out. I'd give my left boob for the chance to kick Warren Wallace square in the... well... you know."
Both Cole and Lore looked dumbfounded at the Latina clerk.
"Sorry," she apologized, "he just really gets under my skin, like some sort of itching, biting, insect I just want to poison to death. At least the break from work will be nice."
"What do you mean?" Lore asked.
"You didn't hear?" Cole asked. "After this weekend, Warren is covering our shifts so we can train after classes with our `buddies.' He even said he would count my training against my community service, so I guess there is a bit of a bright side, if you can call it that."
"You mean you guys are still going to go through with it?" Lore asked as he got a hopeful look in his eyes.
"Don't read too much into it," Cole said as he continued to sweep.
Cole silently felt bad for Lore, knowing the kid had to go up against Morgan at the end of the week. It had to suck for Lore, knowing he had to fight one of his best friends and mentors, but he figured Lore would be okay.
"Melody," Lore asked tentatively, "would it be alright if I picked up your shift tomorrow? I sort of want to get some more hours in before the end of the pay period if I am going to be training instead of working."
"I don't mind," Melody said returning to her newspaper, "so long as you don't mind a double."
"I don't mind working a double." Lore replied as he mentally tried to calculate just how long he could keep himself from having to face Morgan. Ever since the night before, he had felt conflicted and he just didn't understand why Morgan would make him fight him.
"You don't understand, Morgan, he is an animal, barely capable of cognoscente thought. He lacks any form of discipline and his wanton destruction of property is without honor!" Artisan pleaded as he attempted to persuade the 1st squad patrol captain to reconsider his decision to make the swordsman train Whit Riley for his trail by combat.
"You know, I'm right here." Riley said as he sat peacefully on a chair playing Game Boy.
"You see!" Artisan exclaimed uncharacteristically as he gestured towards the boy, "His disregard for proper social edict knows no bounds!"
"I can see that." Morgan said as his stare shifted from Artisan to Riley and back again. "You are still teaching him self defense. I told you, the decision is final. I've got to head out to the Library for a while, so you guys hold down the fort. In fact, Art, you might as well begin Riley's training right now."
With that, Morgan made his way to the door and out of House Orison. His one hope of escaping his fate gone, Artisan slowly turned to face his pint-sized doom.
Lore Masters seemed to have a cloud hanging over his head all day while he worked the double-shift. He kept thinking about his eventual fight against Morgan. Morgan had to know how pitting Lore against him would make him feel, especially since he knew how much Lore loved him. He had wanted to talk to him yesterday night, but Morgan hadn't gotten back from the library until after Lore had fallen asleep, so there was no chance to talk with him before Lore had to race to the campus store in the morning to start his double shift.
"Maybe that's it," Lore thought out loud to himself while no one was around, "maybe he is trying to put something between us so I won't like him like that anymore. Maybe he doesn't like me after all and just couldn't tell me face to face."
Lore over analyzed the reasons why Morgan would force him to fight him, but nothing made sense; none of it seemed like something the Morgan he knew and loved would do. As his confliction steadily built he felt a little sick to his stomach. He knew everyone else was pushing forward, even though they didn't want to fight or train with the people they were assigned to, so it wouldn't be fair for Lore to give up or quit. He had to fight Morgan.
"Okay, pup," Warren said as he entered the store as early evening began creeping closer, "go skedaddle. I suppose I've kept ya here long enough and seeing as ya look miserable and I'm miserable because y'all decided to pull Melody's double, we can both be unhappy... but at the places that make us happiest. Go home, get some rest, and remember... tomorrow starts y'all training with Ian."
"I know." Lore said with a defeated tone in his voice.
"What's the matter?" Warren asked a little confused. "I thought ya liked Ian."
"I do," Lore replied, "it's just... never mind. Night Warren."
"Night, partner." Warren replied as he picked up a discarded paper by the register and began flipping through it.
As Lore walked home the inner turmoil seemed to be manifested in the dark brooding clouds that hung silently overhead until, like a great flood gate opening, the heavens poured down sheets of cold rain on the depressed child below. Lore stopped and looked up at the heavens, as if in silent question as to why the fates had conspired against him. With no forthcoming reply, Lore continued to walk onward in the rain, still a good five minutes away from House Orison and the warmth and safety found within.
"What's a gee, coach Artisan?" Riley asked as he pulled at the cloth of the unfamiliar outfit he was forced to adorn. He was sitting Indian-style, like Artisan, on the floor of Artisan sparse room which looked like it was pulled out of a kendo enthusiast magazine. The walls were lined with bamboo patterned wallpaper and aside from a mat to sleep on, a sword stand, and a few minor items the room was bare.
"Firstly, you will address me as sempai, not coach Artisan.' Secondly, it is pronounced gi,' and it is what you are wearing." The swordsman continued. "It is a training outfit you will wear while we train for your trial by combat. While I am reluctant to teach you any of the deadly arts I have learned, I must prepare you for your trial, less I dishonor myself through your failure. Remember, Riley-bozu, when you fight with honor, you honor yourself, you honor your opponent, and you honor your sempai."
"Bozu?" Riley asked as he tried out the new word.
"It means stupid, insolent, child... or at least that is what I am going to tell you it means." Artisan continued as he remained stoic in his discipline. "Riley-bozu, we will begin our training with a psychic dual, a battle of wills. As your teacher and superior, the battle will easily be won by me, but I ask that you honor yourself as well as your sempai by attempting to maintain eye contact with me as long as you dare. Having introduced ourselves, the battle has begun!"
Artisan locked eyes with Riley who found he was mimicking his teacher's actions, sitting perfectly still and locking eyes. Neither one moved, less their concentration be broken and the dual lost. As the struggle of wills began, Artisan was confident Riley would break contact first, while a defiant Riley refused to run laps, as he knew he would have to if he failed the staring contest.
"Hey, Ian," Chase said as he poked his head into the kitchen, "you totally got to check this out. Riley and Artisan are just staring at each other. It's been going on for like ten minutes now."
"That's nice," Ian replied as he looked worried out the window at the pouring rain. It had really started to come down hard and the wind was blowing too. He had seen Warren leave about a half-hour ago to go relieve Lore at the campus store and he thought Lore should have been home by now. He hoped Lore didn't get caught in this nasty weather, but he thought the boy would probably have the good sense to see the dark clouds and wait it out at the campus store with Warren.
The sound of the door opening was met with the squeaking of wet shoes and the squishing sound of water soaked socks.
"Jesus, Lore," Chase said as he quickly moved over to the boy, "you're soaking wet."
Even from the kitchen, Ian could see the gangly teen shivering; his light frame providing little to no protection against the cold of the rain outside. As he came closer he could see all was not right with Lore, he was shaking and clearly a little out of it.
"Chase, go get some towels," Ian ordered, "get a warm bath running, not a shower, but a bath and let's get Lore upstairs and out of these cold things."
Even before Chase made it up the stairs, Ian was already stripping Lore out of his shirt and dropping it with a heavy sloppy flop on the floor. He could see Lore's undershirt was pasted to his delicate frame, the almost transparent material quivering as Lore shivered.. He quickly removed that as well, and getting the idea, Lore slowly got out of his shoes and socks, discarding them at the door. As Ian grabbed his arm to guide him to the stairs he could feel the boy quaking to which Lore chattered a weak `sorry.'
"Don't be sorry," Ian said calmly as he continued to assist the boy, "just follow me upstairs and we will get you all warmed up. I promise."
With a little difficulty, Ian was able to get Lore upstairs and to the bathroom where Chase was already preparing a warm bath for the boy. As the water continued to pour, Ian began to unfasten Lore's belt to which the boy put up no fight. With a little effort, Ian and Lore were able to get his weighted pants off and with a slight moment of hesitation met with an okay nod by Lore, Ian removed Lore's boxers as well. Completely exposed in front of Ian and Chase, wet, shivering, and sick, Lore Masters allowed his two housemates to assist him into the water which felt like it was scorching hot.
As he eased into the water and finally settled, Ian made sure Lore was okay and not in danger of slipping under the water. The boy just closed his eyes and tried to absorb as much heat into his damaged body as possible. Ian leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Lore's forehead and even without brushing back his mop of soaked blond hair, Ian knew Lore was starting a fever.
"Chase," Ian said as he stood up from the side of the tub, "you stay with Lore and make sure he is alright, let him warm up nice and good and then we will help him out and dry him off. I am going to go downstairs and clean up his clothes and fix him some soup. We will get him into some dry clothes, get him some soup, and then right to bed. I have some extra blankets in the hall closet we can use, too."
"Yes, mommy," Chase said without hint of sarcasm.
After all, mother knows best.
The sound of rain pelting the small window above Morgan in the darkened room was cadenced with the heavy breathing of the teen on the floor in front of him. The angry teen had exhausted almost everything he had when he had lunged at Morgan and the quick jab he had received for lowering his defense had caused Cole Greenberg to collapse to the ground once again. Morgan waited patiently for him to regain his breath.
"Again." The house captain ordered after Cole had a few more moments rest.
"Is... is this... going to be... like yester... day?" Cole asked between staggered breaths.
The night before, Cole had met Morgan, like now, in the basement of the Library Café to get a jump' on his training. The café owner seemed to know Morgan and was allowing him to train Cole in the musky confines of the basement while college kids and other patrons grace the café above them. The heavy cellar door of the basement seemed to muffle most of the noise, and Cole realized too late there would be no one to hear him scream or yell for help if Morgan decided to kill him. Still, the teen had returned for a second lesson.'
"That is up to you." Morgan replied as he adjusted his stance. "Just tell me what I want to know and we can stop this."
Cole raised himself up, clutching his side where he thought he must have a bruised rib. He glared at the patrol captain daringly.
"That's what I thought." Morgan replied as he readied himself, "Again."
Cole sprang forth and threw a punch as hard as he could at Morgan, only to find his fist passing through air as the patrol captain swept the teen's feet out from under him. Landing with a hard thud on the concrete floor of the basement, Cole Greenberg saw stars when his head slammed against the floor. As he looked up, dazed, Morgan knelt down beside him, his aggressive demeanor gone. He seemed to be regarding the teen.
"All you have to do is tell me," Morgan calmly told Cole, "hell, you could even lie to me and I might not even know, but so long as you remain silent we will go again and again until you break."
Morgan was interrupted by the cellar door opening and the owner, Pat, coming down with Morgan's phone in his hand. When the owner saw the condition of Morgan's pupil on the floor he didn't give it a second thought.
"Morgan, your phone has been ringing off the hook for the last ten minutes." Pat explained. "It's Ian."
Morgan quietly shut the door to Lore's room, leaving the door cracked just a little bit to let some light into the otherwise dark room. Ian had already gotten Riley settled upstairs into the observatory, where the boy was going to be bunking for the duration of his stay, and Artisan had left for his patrol. With Warren still at the store doing inventory before the start of the weekdays, Morgan walked a ways down the hall to where Chase and Ian were waiting for him.
"He looks like crap." Chase offered.
"He probably feels like crap," Ian replied, "and the rain and fever aren't helping."
Morgan picked up on the subtle clue.
"You're saying I made him like this." Morgan said neither questioning nor admitting.
"Well, if you weren't so busy beating Cole up at the Library, maybe you would have noticed how bummed he's been since he found out he had to fight you for his trial by combat." Chase accused the house captain, "Sir."
"Yeah, I know." Morgan replied. "I really haven't had the courage to face him after I saw that look in his eyes the other night at the bonfire. It was so sad it was heartbreaking."
"Hey, I know." Chase offered sarcastically as if the idea had suddenly popped into his head. "How about you don't have Lore fight you? Hell, he can fight me, and I promise not to hurt him."
"No." Morgan answered sternly. "Lore still has to fight me; that hasn't changed."
Chase Dunn through his hands up in the air, his amber eyes flaring.
"I don't get it!" Chase almost yelled before changing to a harsh hush. "It is no secret he likes you, Morgan, and from what I can tell you like him too, a lot. If this is some sort of posturing exercise to keep people from finding that out than you need to call it the fuck off. I don't give a flying Frisbee if you and Lore are all hot and heavy over each other. Honestly, I don't! But when I see how hurt and confused that kid in there is, it makes me want to do everything and anything in my power to make him feel better and let him know everything is going to be okay. I just don't get how you can't."
Chase ran his hands in frustration through his short brown hair, disheveling it.
"Look," he said in a much more collected tone, "just tell me there is a reason, a good ass reason, you are doing this. You don't even have to tell me what the reason is, just tell me there is a good reason and I will leave it be because I know you can't be doing this just to hurt that kid."
Morgan took Chase gently by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
"There is a reason," Morgan promised, "a `good ass' reason. If I thought there was a better way, you know I would, and there are easier ways, Chase, there are always easier ways, but there are some lessons that need to be learned here, and they can only be learned the hard way. I will not let Lore struggle in vain and he is not suffering alone, just please, trust me."
"I trust you, Morgan." Chase replied a little taken back by the sincere touch of his house captain.
"I do too." Ian added, more to reassure Morgan than to express his own feelings.
"Thank you," Morgan said as he released Chase, "both of you."
As Morgan looked back towards the door to Lore's room, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at what he was putting the boy through.
Lore smiled as he lay peaceful on his and his mother's hill, the warm breeze washing over his exposed face, arms, and legs. The chirping of birds playing in the trees, the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, and even the sound of thunder way off in the distance put Lore's mind at ease. The smell of rain was in the air and all around him, but he knew the storm was far away. Then, suddenly, the crash of nearby thunder echoed through his peaceful glade and he opened his eyes to see the storm here sooner than he expected. Getting to his feet quickly, he ran towards home as fast as he could with the sound of raindrops falling behind him.
It seemed like the harder he ran the faster the raindrops fell and soon they would catch up with him and force him to fight Morgan! If he could only outrun the raindrops he wouldn't have to fight Morgan. As trees flew past him faster than he could see he saw his home, a huge log cabin that had been in the Masters' family for generations. He ran to the door of his home and fished into his pocket, but he had forgotten his key and couldn't go home anymore. As he turned around, his back braced to the door, he saw the wave of raindrops coming closer and closer. At the last moment he leaned back and the door fell open and he tumbled into the cabin before the door slammed shut, locking out the rain.
It was warm in the cabin, much warmer than he remembered, and much bigger too. The family cabin was huge compared to other cabins, almost a mansion but simple and efficient. Lore saw a fire in the fireplace and as he looked at it he felt the heat radiating off of the flames. It was a noise in the kitchen that drew his attention away from the mesmerizing flames. It was pots and pans banging together, some rustling, familiar sounds of Nana working in the kitchen.
As Lore went to investigate he could see a figure with their back turned to him, but instead of the plump figure of his grandmother, it was an unfamiliar figure. As the figure stood up and turned around he saw it was a man. The man looked familiar with a gangly frame and plain features, his blond hair cut short and well maintained, but it was his crystal clear blue eyes and their cold stare that unnerved Lore.
"Hello, sport." The man grinned.
Lore swallowed hard as a conflicted emotion slowly began to overwhelm him.
"Where is Nana?" the boy asked with a tremor in his voice.
"She isn't here," the man said nonchalantly as he continued to rifle around in the kitchen looking for something, "so I made myself at home."
"You can't be here." Lore almost spat as he felt the anger and the fear.
"Really?" the man asked unimpressed. "What are you going to do about it, sport? What can you do about it? Go to college, get an education, find yourself, save this land? How can you save this house when you can't even fight Morgan? If you can't even fight Morgan, how can you even fight me?"
"Shut up!" Lore yelled at the intruder.
"Why?" the man asked as his rummaging led him into the refrigerator. "Gail isn't here to fight your battles for you anymore, is she?"
"Shut up!" Lore cried. "Her name is MOMMY!"
"No," the man said as he knelt down to look five year old Lore in the eyes, "her name is Gail."
"No!" Lore shouted back as he hit the stranger as hard as his little fist could. "YOU AREN'T MY DADDY! I HATE YOU!"
Lore opened his eyes and he could see the look on the man's face, that terrible unforgettable look of a man whose entire life had been shattered by the words of his five year old son, and before Lore could say he was sorry or take back his words the man disappeared. Lore was alone and he felt like his heart was tearing in two.
Morgan just looked from his chair into the darkness of Lore's room to the form of the youth in his bed. He hadn't been able to sleep and had moved himself into the teen's room to watch him and make sure he was okay. Lore had been having a nightmare; he had been yelling but he couldn't make out the words and now he was just sobbing. Morgan had thought to go and wake Lore up from his pained slumber, but Ian had told him Lore needed to work the fever out of his system.
"I'm sorry, Lore." Morgan said as he spoke quietly to the youth. "I'm sorry I put you through all of this, made you think I didn't like you, made you think I feel anything for you other than the love I do. I promise you though, after this is all over, you won't be afraid anymore."
Morgan got up from his seat on the chair and made his way quietly to the door. As he turned around looking back into the room once more he paused.
"I promise, Lore," Morgan echoed, "you won't be afraid of yourself anymore."
All the next day everyone at House Orison was walking on tiptoes. With Cole's help, Ian was able to get all of Lore's missed assignment and was able to explain to his teachers that he might be out for another day or so, depending on how long he was ill. Securing study notes form a number of adoring female supporters, Ian was confident that when Lore did come back around he would have no trouble catching up with his schoolwork. Between Chase and Morgan, Lore was never more than a mumble away, and while the boy was mostly out of it, they had managed to keep him pumped full of fluids. Even the normally rambunctious Riley was behaving himself, coming right home from school to watch Lore rest for a few moments before reporting to Artisan for training.
"You want me to go spy on Chase?" Riley asked, hardly believing the swordsman would approve of such a thing.
"No, Riley," Artisan clarified, "I want you to go observe Chase as he trains his student. You will be facing your mentor during your trial by combat and so to know one's self and one's enemy is to secure victory in every battle."
"I'm not allowed, though," Riley explained with a blush, "My mom caught me knowing myself once and said it was dirty."
The swordsman gave out an exasperated sigh.
The group of students gathered in the gym could hardly believe the spectacle they were bearing witness to. As the two figures, collapsed on the ground, breathed heavy from mental and physical exertion Melody King began to slowly rise to her feet. With a trembling stance she regained her footing before another series of electric jolts brought her back down to the ground. Warren Wallace, with a smug look on his pained face didn't seem to have the strength to stand himself, but that hadn't stopped him from sending another volley of electrical currents into his student's body.
"Lesson... five..." Warren said carefully into the darkness, his vision pained and blurred from the pepper spray Melody had used on him a few minutes ago, "always remove the electrodes."
"You... smug... bastard..." Melody quipped back. "I should... have... used... the bear... mace...first..."
"Bear mace?" Warren asked with a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.
"Hey, Riley," Ian greeted the youth as he continued to chop up vegetables in preparation for dinner, "did you find Chase and Brian?"
The boy had returned from his walk to the baseball diamond where Chase was training Brian Evers for his trial by combat earlier than expected. Ian hoped Riley's visit hadn't interrupted their training, but he knew how much the boy looked up to Chase as both a coach and a big brother figure.
"Yup." Riley replied uncommitted as he opened the fridge and began looking for a snack. "I found them."
"Were Chase and Brian training hard?" Ian asked as he made small-talk with Riley while pulling a chilled juice-box out of the freezer above the boy and handed it to the grateful youth.
"Oh, they were training hard alright," Riley smirked as he walked away with frozen juice box in hand, "they were training awful hard."
Riley opened the frozen treat Ian had given him and walked without fear into Artisan's room where the swordsman was meditating peacefully. As the boy plopped down across from his sempai, he began sucking on the popsicle-like snack, slurping up the juices loudly as he watched the vein on his mentor's forehead get bigger and bigger. Riley had to hand it to his new coach, he put up with a lot more than Chase did before yelling at him.
"Riley-bozu!" Artisan called from across the room as his meditation was interrupted by the sound of the youth gnawed on what remained of his frozen juice-box. "Have you returned from observing your mentor training his pupil?"
"Yeah," Riley replied, "but I ain't never seen any training like that before."
"Well, I hope you observed well," Artisan retorted as he rose from his sitting position, "because we are going to train in the same fashion as your mentor in order to better understand his fighting style and thus his weakness. By observing and understanding your opponent, you can overcome any advantage they might possess."
"Do we gotta, sempa?" Riley whined. "I mean, JUST like Brian and coach Chase?"
"It's `sempai,'" Artisan corrected the youth, "and yes. We have to practice EXACTLY like your mentor and his pupil."
Riley let out a loud sigh.
"Riley," Artisan questioned sternly, "do you want to defeat Chase during your trial by combat?"
"Yes, sempai." Riley replied unenthusiastically.
"Do you want to be patrol captain assistant for squad six?" Artisan questioned again.
"Yes, sempai." Riley replied in mono-tone knowing what the swordsman was driving at.
"Then we will practice EXACTLY like Brian and Chase." Artisan affirmed. "Now, prepare yourself."
Artisan turned around to set his personal effects on his dresser and when he turned back around he was surprised to see Riley without his shirt on. The boy's form was still that of a small child, but he carried a bit of tone in his frame that showed he was developing nicely as an athlete.
"Riley-bozu, Chase's pupil was shirtless?" Artisan asked a little confused.
"Yeah," Riley said nonchalantly, "Coach Chase was shirtless too."
"I see," Artisan replied as he took off his shirt as well. "I suppose he and his pupil had been training very hard all afternoon."
"They musta been," Riley said as he pretended to clean out his ear while sneaking a glance at the swordsman's lithe and athletic body, "they were all sweaty and tired looking, like they had been doing it for a while."
"You see, Riley-bozu, your mentor and his pupil are willing to put in hard work and discipline to achieve their goals." Artisan affirmed. "Now, how were they positioned?"
"Umm, Chase was on top of Brian," Riley said as he remembered back to when he saw them in the dugout training, "and it looked like they were wrestling. Chase had Brian pinned and it looked like Brian was trying to get out of the pin by rocking back and forth. I couldn't see everything because I was being sneaky like you told me to, sempai, but I think I got most of it remembered."
"Hmm," Artisan said as he began to analyze what Riley was telling him, "They must be working on some sort of grappling technique. Not a surprising move since his pupil is slated to face Ian during his trial. I suppose I will be able to get a better understanding of how to instruct you if you show me exactly what they did."
"Exactly?" Riley nervously whined a little unsure as he remembered back to how he saw Chase and Brian training.
"EXACTLY." Artisan commanded the youth.
Once more Riley signed; he just hoped he had as much fun with Artisan as Chase looked like he was having with Brian. The boy approached his mentor while unbuttoning his boyish shorts and undoing the zipper as the normally stoic swordsman's eyes showed their first signs of true fear.
Ian had just finished chopping up the last of the carrots when he heard a loud yelp from Artisan's room and an even louder crashing sound. As a burst of angry shouting almost immediately followed from both Artisan and Riley, Ian quickly moved to the doorway of Artisan's room to see what was going on. What greeted him was a sight to behold.
"You just don't touch your sempai there, do you understand!?" A shirtless and red-faced Artisan shouted angrily at the youth.
"But you told me to do it EXACTLY like I saw!" an equally shirtless Riley shouted back in tears with his shorts half undone.
"Keep it down you two," Ian hushed forcefully, "Lore is trying to rest upstairs. Now exactly what is all the fuss about?"
"He grabbed my... he stroked..." Artisan couldn't get it out he was so red in the face. "He touched an area that is off limits."
"Coach Artisan said if I wanted to pass my trial I had to!" Riley balled.
"I said no such thing!" Artisan shouted back in disbelief.
"Artisan!" Ian gasped as he immediately went to Riley's side to comfort the youth while fixing his shorts, "How could you even think of trying to have your way with this impressionable little angel?"
"I didn't!" Artisan pleaded his case with Ian in overprotective mommy mode. "I just told him we needed to practice exactly like Riley saw when he went to observe Chase and Brian training!"
"And I did, but you didn't want me..." Riley cried as he turned into Ian's embrace and just sobbed, rejected by his sempai.
Both men absorbed Riley's words over the course of a few moments.
"Oh, boy." Ian and Artisan said in unison as their eyes met.
It appeared as if Chase had some explaining to do.
After the confrontation with Artisan and Riley, Ian made his way upstairs to check on Lore. The redhead knocked lightly on the door to Lore's room and found the youth awake, but just staring at the ceiling. Lore seemed to be thinking deeply and Ian didn't know if he had heard him knock.
"Lore," Ian asked tentatively, "is it okay if I come in?"
The house's resident mommy sensed something was troubling Lore.
"Yeah," Lore said without looking at Ian.
"How you feeling?" he asked as he came closer and sat on the edge of the youth's bed, causing it to sink a bit. "You need anything? Water? Maybe something to eat?"
"I think," Lore said as he looked to Ian with needful eyes, "I need a hug."
Lore sat up in his bed and pulled his legs to his chest as he hid the bottom of his face in his sheet-covered knees. Ian responded naturally by drawing the boy closer and wrapping a gentle and protective arm around his bare shoulders.
"You want to talk about it?" Ian asked tentatively.
Lore was silent for a moment, but then he spoke.
"I was five when I met my dad for the first time." Lore explained as he hugged his legs to his chest. "I had been out playing with my mom on our hill. When we got back to the house there was a strange car there and my mom told me it was alright. She led me into the house, to the kitchen, where a man I had never seen before was sitting with my grandmother. He had the same eyes as me, the same hair as my mother, and even back then I knew he was my dad, but..."
Lore took a deep breath as Ian comforted him and held him close.
"He called her Gail." Lore explained. "I told him, `no, her name is mommy' and he tried to explain it to me, but I didn't want to hear it, not from him. I knew he had hurt her, that he was the reason she would cry sometimes when she didn't think I was awake, and the reason some of the other parents didn't want their kids to play with me. My mother had never said a bad word about my father to me that I can remember, but the first words I spoke to him were hurtful words of hate and anger. I've never been very big for my age, so you can imagine how intimidating I was at five, but when I shouted at him that he wasn't my daddy and that I hated him I balled up my little fist and I punched by dad as hard as I could."
Ian just rubbed Lore's back as the boy sank into his embrace.
"I didn't see where I hit him," Lore continued as he cried a bit, "didn't even feel like I connected hard, but that look... the look on my dad's face when I opened my eyes... I had inflicted more pain on the man than I thought was humanly possible. For what my dad did to my mom, he was put away for more than five years, but after he stood up with that crushed look in his eyes, you would have thought he had just been sentenced to death. After that, he left and I never saw him again. Everyone back home still thinks he is in jail, I guess my mom thought it would be safer that way, but..."
Lore turned into Ian's embrace.
"I MISS MY DADDY!" came a muffled sob from Lore as he let it all out. "I TOLD HIM I HATE HIM! I TOLD MY DADDY I HATE HIM AND I STILL FEEL IT AND I DON'T WANT TO ANYMORE! I'M SCARED IAN, IM SCARED OF ME!
Ian held the boy firmly as he stroked his back and hair soothingly.
"Lore," Ian soothed, "it is going to be alright."
"No, it's not." Lore explained as tears streamed down his face. "I'm going to hurt Morgan! I am going to fight Morgan and hurt him and he will leave me too."
"I see," Ian said as he gleaned a little more insight into the working mind of Lorenzo Masters. "Well, Lore, what if I showed you how to fight someone without hurting them?"
Lore calmed down a moment as he absorbed the question before he looked up at Ian with confused but hopeful eyes.
"Lore," Ian smiled kindly, "I am supposed to get you ready for your trial by combat, so maybe it is about time I taught you about the Art of Love."
Morgan quietly removed himself from the doorway where he had been listening. He had been right about Lore, even if he hadn't known the reasons, but now that the boy had addressed his fears he could overcome them. With Ian's help, Lore would learn that not all fights had to end in someone getting hurt. To attack your enemy with the resolve to do no harm, regardless of how much pain you yourself must endure, was a principle not every warrior could embrace. Ian would teach Lore Aikido, and the youth would face his most dangerous opponent, someone he loves, with the skills necessary to stop them from harming others.
Morgan only hoped, as he made his way to the front door, his next session with Cole Greenberg would be more fruitful then his last ones had been.
"You see, Riley." Chase said with a nervous grin as he was flanked by a disapproving Artisan and Warren, "when two people really like each other, they umm... sort of share a special hug... and it is perfectly normal and a... natural, but only okay if both people agree... to the hug."
Riley sat on a chair in front of the three patrol captains, having significantly calmed down after he realized Artisan didn't stop him from performing the same training exercises he had seen Chase do to Brian because he didn't like the boy.
"So, you and Brian weren't training?" Riley asked. "You guys were hugging?"
"Yes." Chase replied.
Warren cleared his throat.
"I mean, of a sort." Chase corrected. "You see, when you get older you will learn about different types of ways people can show affection for one another. What you saw... in the dugout... this afternoon... was Brian and I showing affection for one another. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I get it. It looked like you were having fun." Riley commented.
"Well, it was fun." Chase replied honestly.
"Can you hug me like that sometime, coach Chase?" Riley asked innocently completely not getting it.
"You see what I have to put up with?" Artisan quietly commented to Warren as Chase desperately tried to back-peddle the conversation.
"At least y'all are getting some action." Warren quietly replied. "All I get is a sucker punch and bear mace. I can't believe that stuff is legal. I swear she is legitimately trying to poison me."
"Bear mace?" Artisan said in disbelief as Chase started, once more, from the beginning.
It was almost midnight, and the Library would be closing in about an hour. Morgan and Cole had spent almost the entire night `training' as Morgan called it, but Cole had a few much more colorful names for it. As the battered Cole Greenberg got to his feet once more, Morgan knew it was going to be more of the same.
"So," Morgan said passively, "I've been trying to wrap my head around it all, and I think I've figured it out. It is much simpler than I gave you credit for, although it not as chivalrous; you need someone to hate you."
Cole just glared at Morgan.
"Am I wrong?" Morgan asked as he circled the freshman in the darkened basement. "I'm sure it is not as kinky as you enjoying me beating the crap out of you these last three nights, and I'm almost certain the reason you aren't answering my simple question is that you are afraid that once I know for certain, either way, I will forgive you. Are you really that messed up, Cole, that you need someone to hate you just so you can feel normal?"
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Cole spat as he wiped away the blood from his nose. "You think you fucking know me and you don't."
"Oh, I do?" Morgan asked nonchalantly as he continued looking for another opening to exploit, but the kid was getting better.
"Yeah, you do." Cole retorted. "You talked at that bonfire about me being a team player and dedicated like you know me, like you know what I am capable of. You don't know anything about me. You have no idea what I am capable of."
"So," Morgan said darkly as he stopped circling, "enlighten me, Cole."
Neither one moved for fear of giving something away, but it was Cole who finally spoke.
"Yes, it was me." Cole answered in hushed anger. "I was the one who threw the rock that gashed Lore's ear. It wasn't Jon, it wasn't Chris; it was me. I picked it up as we chased after him and I whipped it at his head as he ran away in fear. Hell, I even smiled when I saw it hit him because it was an impossible shot and it made me feel good. I liked it. There, and you fucking happy NOW!?"
Morgan didn't say a word and his stance seemed to falter.
"Answer me!" Cole almost cried as he raced towards Morgan in a fit of rage.
Morgan was fast, faster than Cole Greenberg by a mile, but he didn't move and left himself completely open for the freshman. As Cole approached he balled up his fist with all his anger, all his hate, and all his frustration at Morgan, his life, and himself.
Morgan waited patiently for the strike that never came.
"What are you waiting for?" Morgan asked the teen that had stopped dead in his tracks, his fist primed, yet leashed.
A wall of conflicting emotions had formed a barrier between the teen's fist and Morgan's unprotected form, preventing the two from meeting.
"Fight back!" Cole demanded as he radiated the same anger he had a hundred times before.
"No." Morgan responded with a nonthreatening tone as he turned to his side, giving Cole more than ample opportunity to strike.
"You don't get to fucking not fight back!" Cole shouted. "You fucking drag me down here and fucking beat the fuck out of me..."
"Then hit me if it will make you feel better." Morgan replied.
"I..." Cole stuttered. "I... it doesn't... it just... not anymore..."
Cole Greenberg, defiant freshman and bully, dropped to the ground crouching as if the wind had been knocked out of him. With his hand still clenched into a fist he mock jabbed it towards the ground before slowly lowering it to the musky surface of the concrete basement, as if to make sure he had control of himself again.
"It isn't fair." Cole stated sadly. "He isn't supposed to be my friend. It doesn't work like that. You don't become friends with people who hurt you over and over again, you just don't. It is stupid, he is just a stupid little kid and he doesn't even know how much I've hurt him. I just... if he was afraid of me or hated me, I could be okay with that... but this... friendship? I don't know what to do anymore."
"Well, what do you know?" Morgan said soothingly as he knelt down next to his pupil, "Cole Greenberg feels remorse."
"Shut up." Cole half-ass retorted as he wiped something out of his eye.
"No." Morgan half-heartedly joked. "One more question, and then we can call it a night."
"What?" Cole asked in earnest.
"Would you ever hurt Lore again?" Morgan questioned with a tone that was more pleading than angry.
Cole Greenberg turned his head to look Morgan square in the eyes.
"I'd rather spend three days locked in a musky old basement, getting the crap kicked out of me by you." The teen replied and both Cole and Morgan smiled.
"Good answer." Morgan acknowledged as he ruffled the freshman's spiky hair. "Class dismissed."
For the rest of the week, the boys of House Orison seemed to get back on track. Lore went to classes the following day, despite Ian's protests that he should take it easy and take another day off. After Warren accused Ian of just wanting to "play mommy" for another day, Ian backed off, but Lore knew the goodhearted redhead was just looking out for him. While Lore got back into the swing of things, all of the candidates for the House Orison sixth patrol squad seemed to kick their training up a notch. Even the normally sour and sweet Melody and Warren appeared to be getting along.
"You see this?" Melody gestured as she held up the tiny canister, "this is illegal in over half of the United States, but it works every time."
"Which states did you say?" Warren cheekily replied with a knowing grin.
"Don't ask." The Latina answered with a mesmerizing stare.
"Don't tell." Warren ventured as his hand caressed the deadly chemical canister his saucy pupil was holding.
Brian Evers sheepishly apologized to Lore for having ulterior motives for joining the sixth squad, but seemed to redouble his efforts to train with Chase, albeit under the close supervision of both Artisan and Whit Riley. In fact, it appeared as if the stoic swordsman and his half-pint cohort had come to terms in regard to their relationship as master and student.
"Riley-bozu," Artisan addressed his student as they meditated on the mats within the sacred confines of his room, "you have learned much in this past week and have shown marked improvements in both your discipline and your martial prowess."
"Thank you, sempai." Riley acknowledged politely.
"Although the path to enlightenment is never complete," Artisan continued, "you have taken your first steps on your journey towards a more spiritual understanding of the world around you and its many marvels. I wanted you to know that regardless of the outcome of your trial tomorrow evening, you have honored your sempai."
"Does that mean I don't gotta win?" Riley asked quizzically.
"No," Artisan said, "I still want you to kick Chase's ass."
"Oh," Riley replied, "okay, cool."
"Now remember, Riley-bozu," Artisan continued as he spoke with sage-like virtue, "the deadly arts I have taught you are only to be used in self defense or in the defense of others. A true warrior who possesses true strength has no need to show-off his power or wield his full might against weak opponents. Remember, restraint is the greatest sign of true strength and its proper application the greatest sign of true wisdom."
"Oh, I get it," Riley said finally understanding, "that is why you screamed and threw me off of you instead of really clobbering me when I grabbed your..."
Artisan coughed.
"... and I thought you didn't like me." Riley concluded. "You didn't unleash a full force because I was too weak compared to you and you didn't wanna hurt me."
"Umm, yes," Artisan blushed momentarily before returning to his normal stoic self, "that is precisely why I did not unleash the full fury of my family's ancient techniques against you, because your small delicate body could not have withstood such punishment."
Artisan stared straight ahead, less he give himself away, but when he ventured a tentative look at his pupil he saw Riley almost in tears.
"You... you really DO like me... sempai." The boy sniffled.
Before Artisan could say anything the boy bolted from his mat and cleared the few feet between him and the swordsman and gave his startled mentor a huge tackle hug to the ground. As Artisan lay on his back, contemplating how to get the youth off of him, he could feel Riley's embrace and warm tears on his chest. Letting out a guarded sigh, Artisan allowed the boy his moment, and embraced the boy in turn. He was surprised to find how warm the hug felt, like spiritual energy melding between two people, and he knew, despite how distanced and aloof he acted, that Whit Riley had become a member of House Orison.
"Damnit." The swordsman said out loud to himself, but the words were lost on Riley who was currently snuggling next to his coach and new big brother.
As Riley snuggled, Lore trained with Ian in both mind and body.
"Good, now as I come at you find the best path to redirect my energy." Ian instructed as he mock charged Lore.
As the redhead through his weight into the attack, Lore grabbed for his arm and shifted the path of the assault. As Ian's energy remained committed, Lore was able to successfully negate the attack without suffering harm or inflicting it upon his mentor.
"Good. Well done, Lore." Ian praised.
Lore and Ian bowed to each other, a sign of respect for each other's skill.
"Something tells me you will do just fine tomorrow night." Ian said alluding to Lore's upcoming fight against Morgan.
"Yeah," Lore smiled, "I think so too. Just... Ian?"
"Yes?" Ian acknowledged as he grabbed a towel for himself and for Lore.
"Well, I was wondering," Lore admitted, "when Morgan decided all of this, who was going to fight who and stuff... did you know about it before hand or did he just sort of make it up?"
"The first I had heard of it was at the bonfire." Ian said as he dried off, "why do you ask?"
"Well," Lore continued, "it's just that, I get the sneaking suspicion he planned all of this, like you and me training together, even me being afraid to hurt the people I care about... is that dumb?"
"No," Ian comforted as he rejoined Lore on the mat with a fresh towel for the youth, "Morgan tends to have his own way of doing things, but in the end he always seems to come through for all of us. I suppose that is why he is the house captain. He has a way of reading people that even I don't really understand, but I suppose it is that same ability to read others that allows him to see how best to help those in need of a little guidance."
"Yeah," Lore said thoughtfully, "I sort of see what you mean."
As Lore and Ian called it a day for training, both knew they would need their wits about them for the following evening and the much anticipated trail by combat.
Headmaster Hodges sighed to himself as he looked over the photos in his leather bound album. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he had last looked inside its weathered and worn pages. He smiled a bit to himself, but it was a smile tinted with sorrow. It wasn't until he heard the knock on his office door that he closed the book and slipped it back inside his desk before granting permission to enter.
"Good evening, sir." Malcolm said kindly as he stuck his head into the office. "I just thought I would let you know, House Orison is initiating the sixth squad tonight. I just didn't know if you wanted to supervise?"
"No, no, that's fine." Hodges answered with a dismissive chuckle. "Let those kids have some fun without an old-timer like me getting in the way. Besides, I'm sure young Mr. Masters will do just fine without the added pressure of the school's headmaster and the faculty house advisor there.
Malcolm seemed to regard the headmaster for a moment.
"If you say so, sir." He replied kindly before bidding the old man a good evening and shutting the door on his way out.
Hodges seemed to lose himself in thought for a few moments longer before he too decided to retire for the evening. Before he turned out his desk light, however, he slipped his aged hand back into his desk and retrieved the album once more before removing a single picture. In the brief moment of light before the open office was clicked into darkness with only the moonlight and stars to illuminate its ancient wonders and rows of books, James Hodges, headmaster of Clearwater University slipped the photograph into the front pocket of his jacket.
The photograph was from a time long since past; a tender moment when he held the most precious person in his life in his arms and they laughed together. The child had been his life and his greatest love, his wonderful baby boy. The picture had been taken on a clear summer day when things were simpler and life was somehow more innocent, but that time was gone and that simple innocent boy was no longer of this world. No longer would his toothy goofy grin grace the world, nor would his beautiful and innocent blue eyes light up his father's life. He no longer had a son to call his own.
As James Hodges grabbed his hat off of the stand near his door, he flicked off the final dull illumination of his office and walked out into a much colder world than he had once known. Someday soon, he knew he would have to confront his demons, but for now he could lose himself in the memory of what once was. He was old, it was his right.
Cole Greenberg knew he was going to get an earful for being late, but he had lost track of time in the small commercial district of the town of Clearwater. While he was doing his best to make it to the meeting area for the trial by combat before five o'clock, he suddenly found himself in the most awkward of situations.
"Hey baby, come on, don't be like that."
"Yeah, we just want to talk to you is all."
"Talk with my dick, maybe."
"Get away from me you creeps!" the girl cried as one of the large bikers grabbed her by the wrist.
Cole Greenberg wasn't too impressed. He had never seen a more blatant and poorly acted out scene of harassment in his life and assumed this was to be a test set up by Morgan as part of his trial by combat. The three thugs were over the top bikers drooling over the cute and innocent girl who Cole thought he had seen at the Library after one of his sessions with Morgan. Obviously this was a set up by Morgan, but Cole didn't have to play along with it if he didn't want to.
"No, stop, please, you are animals." Cole deadpanned as he approached the group of actors.
Immediately the bikers let go of the girl and focused their attention on the college kid walking towards them. As they eyed him, Cole returned their look with his own contemptuous glare. For an entire week he had been forced to train with Morgan, getting the shit kicked out of him, and even after their moment in the drab basement where Cole had admitted he had thrown the rock at Lore that had gashed his ear open his first night in Clearwater, Morgan had still run him into the ground during their training sessions.
If anything, Cole Greenberg thought to himself, this would be a good chance to unleash some steam. He could always tell Morgan he didn't realize his crappy biker actors were fake, and that is why he kicked all of their asses for real.
"Beat it, kid." One particularly bad actor barked, "This doesn't concern you."
As if to stress his point, the biker pulled out a knife.
"Oh no," Cole mocked, "not a knife. Whatever will I do?"
He could almost see the dull edge of the fake practice blade he had seen in countless school plays.
"Please, don't!" the girl cried.
At least her acting was a little better, Cole thought.
"I've got a great idea." Cole offered as he stopped and stood his ground. "How about you stupid `bikers' stop bothering this girl before I beat you all into the dirt. You can run off and tell Morgan I kicked your butts real hard so as I don't have to actually kick your asses, or we can do it the hard way and I stomp all of you. Either way, lets drop the bullshit."
All three bikers just stared dumbfounded at the guy before them.
"What the hell are you talking about, kid?" the one with the knife asked. "I swear, I'll cut you into little pieces."
Cole clenched his fist as if the action might control his building rage.
"You know what, fine." Cole declared as he radiated a cold fury towards the bikers, "If you want to play it like that, I can deal with it. So, how do you want to go? One at a time or all at once, either way I will get to let off some steam."
As if in answer, the first "biker" made a "lunge" at Cole, but his movement was so slow compared to Morgan the bulky actor might as well have been walking towards Cole. Cole imagined he would get docked points for being "stabbed" by the practice weapon, so he cleanly avoided the blade and, after securing the attacker's arm at the wrist and elbow, proceeded to fling the guy into a nearby wall. The practice knife cluttered to the ground noisily as the other two bikers took a few steps forward.
"Great," Cole Greenberg said as he prepared himself for the next phase of this stupid test, "Just a fair warning, I'm not going to go easy on you guys like I did on him."
"We can't wait for him any longer." Warren told Morgan as they tried to keep everyone from worrying as the gathered group waited for Cole Greenberg. "Chances are he decided he has had enough and ducked out on the squad. It happens, partner. We just got to go on with who we got."
Morgan thought for a moment.
"I don't think he would have bailed on us, at least not on Lore." Morgan decided. "We can move on with everyone else's trial, for now."
"Alright," Warren acknowledged, "y'all are the one in charge."
"Morgan?" Lore asked as he approached the two patrol captains. "Are we still going to wait for Cole?"
"Don't worry," Morgan assured a worried Lore, "I'm sure he is on his way. Why don't we get some of the other trials out of the way?"
"Okay," came Lore's less than enthused reply, "but if he doesn't show..."
"Lore," Morgan comforted, "he will be here."
Both Lore and Morgan turned their attention immediately to the sound of Whit Riley squealing with joy. Warren had just told the boy he would get to fight first. As the youth prepared for his bout with Chase, the enigmatic swordsman, Artisan, seemed to be giving his pupil some last minute advice.
"Riley-bozu," Artisan instructed, "I didn't want to worry you, but I have talked with Chase, and he told me that if he wins this match against you, you will have to run 100 laps around the entirety of House Orison."
The youth's jaw dropped.
"I know, this is unsettling news," Artisan comforted in a detached sort of way, "but have heart. I told Chase that in order for this to be a match of equals, if he failed in defeating you, it would be he that had to run 100 laps around the entirety of House Orison."
The youth's eyes seemed to light up in wonder.
"You mean..." Riley daydreamed, "coach Chase has to run laps!?"
"Yes, but only..." Artisan was cut off by his pupil suddenly disappearing, only to seemingly materialize on the grassy field where the first match was to begin.
"Come on!" Riley yelled with youthful vigor. "Let's do this!"
"What did you tell him?" Chase asked carefully of the swordsman as he walked by towards the field.
"Oh, nothing," Artisan replied, "now go on and let us begin."
Chase adjusted the head protection and gloves all of the patrol captains wore to protect themselves from their students. Since the patrol captains themselves were supposed to have control of their own actions during the trial, they were expected not to seriously harm their opponents who would be unarmored. As Chase entered the grassy field and squared off against Riley, he could see a confidence radiating off of the normally torpid boy.
"You ready, coach Chase?" Riley asked from about twenty feet away.
"Yeah, Riley," Chase replied, "but why are you all the way..."
Having introduced themselves, the battle had begun.
Chase Dunn had known Whitric Riley for almost two years, since the first day they met during Chase's orientation to Clearwater University. The boy had been riding his bike down a rather steep hill when the breaks of his old bike had gone out. As he narrowly avoided slamming into a brick wall at the bottom of the hill, the boy instead found himself flipped off of his bike and onto the soft cushion of freshman Chase Dunn. From that moment on the boy had looked up the Chase and Chase had looked after the boy. When Chase had been asked to coach Whit's little league team, the boy had been thrilled, even if during most practices he caused more headaches than any other player. As the boy and his coach worked together, Riley found himself improving his speed and timing, a dedication forged in the commitment to his coach. As Chase thought all of this over, he was pleased to see Riley had taken to Artisan's training with gusto. His only hope was that he had caused as many headaches, or even more, for the swordsman as Chase himself had received during his coaching.
In the blink of an eye, Whit Riley, one of the fastest base runners in the league cleared the twenty feet of ground between him and coach chase. Using the momentum of his small form, Riley leapt into the air and landed with his left foot almost delicately on the chest of his coach.
Chase was completely open and defenseless, unprepared for the speed of the attack.
"Abunai! Ka-Ami!" Riley yelled defiantly as he whipped his right leg around and landed a powerful kick on his stunned coach.
Lore's mouth dropped as he watched Chase go flying some ten feet back with a tumble before finally landing on the ground face down. Everyone else in House Orison was rendered speechless and even the stoic Artisan couldn't help but be taken back by the speed and accuracy of his pupil's attack.
"Umm... Art?" Morgan asked tentatively as he watched the invisible smoke billow from Chase's destroyed body, "what's `abunai ka-ami?'"
"In order to give Riley-bozu the confidence to follow through with his attacks, I taught him to call out the attacks before he delivers them." Artisan explained as Chase slowly started to get to his feet. "I told him that abunai ka-ami' was the lightning rail gun kick.'"
"Out of curiosity," Morgan asked as the fifth patrol captain signaled defeat before falling to the ground once again, "what does it really mean?"
Artisan grinned a bit to himself. "Roughly translated, `Look out! Mosquito net.'"
Morgan just smiled to himself as Whit Riley bounced up and down in excitement that he had passed his trial by combat. The boy was ecstatic.
Up next was Melody King and Artisan. Artisan, as usual, had his kendo stick at the ready, but was uncharacteristically nervous. As he appraised his opponent it became quite obvious he had a hang-up about fighting a girl. As the two squared off, Melody whipped back the trench coat she had been wearing to reveal a number of gadgets strapped to her belt and inside the coat itself.
"You trained her to use stupid gadgets, Warren?" Artisan called out to the sidelines as a sudden surge of confidence rushed into him. "I have mastered a dozen techniques to thwart my foes, exorcise ghosts, and sunder any weapon... so if you think I am going to be intimidated, let alone defeated, by a few store-bought items, than you are dumber than you..."
Melody was grinning eerily at Artisan.
"What's that?" Artisan tried to analyze the small canister the young woman held in her hand.
"Oh, this?" Melody asked in mock surprise to the swordsman's question. "This is just a store-bought item that is no match for you and your big bad stick."
The Latina's grin only seemed to broaden.
"Remember sempai!" Whit yelled from the sidelines as he sat in the lap of his defeated coach. "Don't unleash a full fury on a girl! True strength and wisdom!"
Artisan quietly cursed himself for telling Riley all those things. As Melody King flicked the seal off of the end of the canister, Artisan could have sworn he saw the incorporeal form of a tiny demon manifest from the opening of the small metal vial.
"Abunai ka-ami! Sempai!" Riley encouraged.
Artisan sighed.
Cole Greenberg looked around himself, exhausted, but finished. Apparently Morgan had also employed a few more actors as `bikers' who had joined the original three, and now a half dozen bodies were sprawled out onto the streets. It was a good think Cole had put them down when he did, because as they had ganged up on him he couldn't have avoided all of their prop weapons had he not put the hurt on them. It was their own fault for playing along with Morgan's stupid little test.
"You alright?" Cole asked of the rescued girl as he knew the script would expect him to.
"Oh my God," the girl said as she looked around at the pile of beefy bikers, "I can't believe... you saved me..."
"All in a day's work, blah, blah, blah... it's what I do." Cole ran through the dialog. "House Orison is always on patrol."
"Wait," she asked as she stepped closer, "you are part of House Orison?"
Cole Greenberg looked at her, and of course he had forgotten when he had started the fight with the first three bikers.
"Sorry about that, hope I don't get docked points..." he began before straightening up a bit. "Cole Greenberg, undeclared freshman and squad member of House Orison's sixth squad."
He thought he had remembered it right.
"Anyway, why don't we get out of here." Cole said as he picked up the prop knife that the first biker had been using. "I'm late as it is for the ceremony with the other members of squad six and you can tell Morgan all about how awesome I was at `saving' you."
As the two began walking towards the park where Morgan and the rest of House Orison were surely waiting for Cole to see if he had passed his little test, the girl wrapped her arms around Cole's and the two walked side by side. The girl seemed to snuggle into him, as if Cole was a security blanket or some long forgotten childhood teddy. For a moment, Cole tried to forget the cheesy acting and the elementary scene that had played out before him just a few minutes ago, and tried to imagine that he really had just saved the day and gotten the girl. Maybe someday, he thought to himself, after all Cole Greenberg didn't do "hero."
All in all a successful night, Morgan thought to himself. Whit Riley had shown skill and determination through his sound defeat of Chase. While Melody ultimately ended up losing to Artisan. Had the swordsman not relied on "hearing the wind" when the chemical canister had temporarily blinded him, Melody more than certainly would have been able to defeat him. When Brian and Ian had squared off, it appeared as if Chase had done a good job of teaching Brian how to get out of certain locks and holds, but ultimately it was reduced to a draw.
"So, what are we going to do?" Ian asked Morgan as the house captain seemed to scan the horizon for any sign on Cole Greenberg. "We only have your fight with Lore and Cole's fight with Warren left. We could go on with you and Lore..."
"Wait a minute," Morgan said as he spotted a couple walking in the distance, "I think that is him."
Everybody seemed to cheer up a bit as Cole Greenberg strolled into the park with an unknown girl in tow. While he had missed most of the festivities, his mysterious arrival with a guest prompted more questions than he could answer. Ultimately, as the situation was explained by the girl, Cole just seemed to go along with it until he had had enough.
"It's okay, Morgan." Cole said as he played with the prop knife. "I totally know you set it all up as a test."
"What are you talking about?" Morgan asked as he watched the freshman toy with the sharp blade. "And stop playing with that, it's dangerous."
"This thing?" Cole replied as he motioned to the dull prop blade. "This is just one of the prop weapons I took off of the `bikers' you arranged to have attack me. So don't worry, it's not even sharp, see?"
Cole Greenberg ran the prop blade along the inside of his palm as the gathered group of people went pale. Seeing their reactions, Cole looked down at the self-inflicted wound on his hand as a steady stream of blood ran backwards down his arm. Suddenly everything was put into perspective and Cole Greenberg didn't feel so good.
"So, those bikers were real?" Cole asked as he watched his blood escape his body.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they were." Morgan clarified as he grabbed the freshman before he could hit the ground as he feinted. "Umm... Warren, I am going to go ahead and say you aren't going to be fighting Cole tonight, but we are going to count his match as a win anyway. Any objections?"
There was a general agreement that Cole Greenberg had earned his win.
"Alright, good." Morgan said as Ian brought over the first-aid kit and began cleaning Cole's hand. "So while Ian takes care of Cole and Warren gets all the information we need to take to Professor Malcolm tomorrow about the bikers, how about Lore and I square off?"
Lore turned with surprise to Morgan, having not expected the fights to continue with Cole bleeding on the grass of the small park.
"What?" Morgan asked the confused youth. "You didn't think you were going to get out of it that easily did you? Come on, let's see what you got."
Morgan woke up to the feeling of someone climbing into bed with him. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know it was Lore, he could smell the boy's fresh and innocent scent as he snuggled up next to Morgan in the darkness. Morgan suspected this had something to do with their match earlier that evening.
"You okay?" Morgan quietly asked as he wrapped an arm around the youth.
"Yeah," Lore replied a little sleepy himself. "I just wanted to be close to you, you know... without us fighting."
"I see." Morgan stated simply. "You did wonderful tonight, patrol captain Lorenzo Masters of House Orison's sixth squad. Everybody on your team proved they have what it takes to be a part of squad six, so you should be really proud of all the hard work everybody put in. You really impressed me out there, too."
"Thank you," Lore replied meekly and he closed his eyes, "just promise me you won't make me fight you again. I don't like fighting you."
Morgan gave Lore a comforting squeeze around the boy's exposed stomach.
"I don't like fighting you, either." Morgan admitted as he snuggled closer to Lore.
As both boys drifted off to sleep, neither one knew what the future held for them, but the comforting knowledge of whatever was out there they would face together allowed both to slumber with blissful dreams.