This is going to be the only authors not for the whole story, at least until the end of the story. I will be periodically (monthly, to be exact) updating this story because I am very close to having the whole thing finished. I actually wrote the whole thing before I posted it, which is really weird for me….I think there might be something wrong with me.
So yeah, this story was something that I came up with after watching the film, G.I. Joe. I know a lot of people had some issue against it, but you know what? I really enjoyed it as a simple action movie, ya know? Check your brain at the door and go be amused. Plus, it has Ray Park as Snake Eyes…which is pure awesomeness. And so after watching the film and enduring a two hour drive back with someone sleeping on me, I came up with this story and decided it had to be written.
It is in my normal stream of martial arts action and character developing drama with hints of romance. So for those familiar with my previous work, this should be fun for you lot. I wanted to really develop a slightly more naive main character and do an honest to god orgin story without heaps of pre-story events, so we can really see someone adjust to a new life. I also was a little annoyed at how easy it was for the two new soldiers of G.I. Joe to just in and that we never saw true recruiting scene for anyone, so I guessed things could have been a little...flexible if a certain someone was to find a student that he felt would be an appropriate apprentice. If not, then the story should be good for the fight scenes then. I hope you all enjoy it and do let me know what you think.
Aside from that….without any further ado or bullshit, please enjoy!
The Beginnings of an Echo
Stale air. It hangs and clings to life, even though is has long lost what use it could pass on to the living world. It creates a thick atmosphere around you, restricting your breathing and filling empty space that could have been filled fresh and cool air. Even with the fan spinning around above the sole student in the room, it did nothing to ease the burning heat that surrounded the young man known as Tobias, but more commonly called Echo.
Echo closed his eyes as he felt drops of sweat roll down his brow and drip over his eye lids. His training gi was soaked through, the heat in the room cling to him like a foul stench. The rice mats under his feet were soaked through in some spots and droplets of his sweat scattered across the private training room of the dojo. His arms were turned in and hands rested at his waist, his thumbs just touching his black belt. He always trained with the same heavy gi, to ensure a thorough workout, so the stress marks only his neck and chest were highlighted even more so by the bright red marks.
His hair was a slight auburn color, darker by a slight shade from being saturated with his sweat and clumped together in a series of messy spikes. Opened his eyes, his long, almost effeminate, lashes rising up to reveal his dark green eyes, a single bead of sweat clinging to a clump of lashes. The young man's cheekbones were slightly over pronounced and his nose was hooked over slightly, his brow showing early creases and dents from frowning and concentration.
He was an orphan, raised in a Catholic orphanage, St. Helena's, and with nothing to call his own, not even a name. He was just found in a bundle of hospital blankets in a growing puddle at the doorstep, not even moaning as the rain cascaded over his small frail body. Had Father Francis not found him when he did, it was likely that the young babe would have died from pneumonia. And so, with little options left to the church and no clues for the authorities, he grew up in the church.
The young man bowed slowly and carefully at the waist, his eyes always remaining forward and his body always moving smoothly. As he raised his back, his right foot began to slide back to just being off of ninety degrees from his other foot. His hands also moved with the rest of his body, his right arm pulling back to his ribs and his left hand extend out just short of his full arm extension. Echo gave a long exhale as he let his vision un-focus slightly, his muscles gently coiling in preparation.
He inhaled sharply and began his training again.
With his breath, the young man stepped forward with his right foot and shot his right hand out in crossing right hook as he pulled his left arm back. His body jerked to a stop as his arm reached it's allowed extension, sweat jerking off his body. The young man quickly stepped in with his left leg and his left elbow swept up and around to his open right palm. The hard bone made a firm and resounding crack against the conditioned palm muscles, Echo's body pivoting to the other side with a jarring snap of his hips that sent a ring of sweat from his body.
His arms swung out and around, his right hand sweeping out in a knife hand chop while his left hand remained close to his chest. This was so that he could block high or low if need be, his tensed fingers curled over to make a slight pocket. His left foot pushed off the ground and curled up in front of his body, blurring as he turned to the side and lashed out with a roundhouse kick. His foot stalled at his head height, the flat of his foot taunt as he held his leg up for a moment.
The foot returned to the floor and Echo also dropped to a crouch, leaning over his front leg. The young fight spun around on the floor, sweeping out in reverse with his right foot and then again with his left foot. Reeling his left leg back in under his body, he sprung back and arched over as he extended his hands out. The tips of his fingers hit the rice mats fist and the rest of his hand rolled down to being planted firmly on the floor, his legs rolling over. As his feet touched the ground, Echo pulled his torso up and after a slight pause, brought his left elbow in a upper cut motion.
His right foot then flew in another round house kick and once the foot landed, his left foot hooked around behind his back in the empty space that would have been his adversary's head. It was hear that it was traditional for a student to perform a series of block for a supposed incoming attack, but Echo always changed it when he was on his own. Once his left foot thudded on the mats, he threw his body to the right and pivoted his legs up and over his body in a handless cartwheel. As he landed, the young man also dropped to one knee and punched out in the air at his opponent's stomach or pelvis region.
Stepping forward with his bent leg, he stood up with a rising left elbow and then hooked another elbow from the right. He flowed with the motion and spun around with left elbow hooking swinging around his back, his right hand shooting out in a full extended jab to what would have been someone's face.
Echo caught himself here, controlling his breathing to its nice even and smooth motions that help regulate his mind and body.
Turning around to the space behind him, the young fighter lifted his leg with the turn and hopped in the air to give an aerial kick with his right foot. Landing on both feet, he flipped up in the air and snapped both feet open when they were above his head. Closing his legs with same speed he had opened them with, he landed with a solid thud and his arms ready for next imaginary opponent. He swept his right leg back, sliding along the mats and dipped his body in what looked like a sweeping duck. With a quick pull and sharp push from his left foot, pulling his thighs together and twisted his torso around.
The result of the various small motions was an explosion of spins from Echo's body as he twisted horizontally through the air, a small storm of sweat spraying out from his gi and body. As he felt his body drop, he turned himself to the other side and landed in a crouch. His legs were coiled under him with his left shin resting on the ground and the right foot planted on the ground, his arms forming a diagonal line from the ground to the ceiling.
Slowly, still taking in deep breaths, Echo stood up slowly and bowed to the place where his master usually stood. He then let his body relax completely, stretching out his back and undoing the heavy shirt of his training gi. He pulled the tails of his uniform out from under the belt and then folded the piece of clothing into a neat pile before dropping it on the floor.
Sweat streamed over his bare chest and stomach, his body tight and heavy from his eleventh time repeating his own personal form. His white pants had long dark streaks from sweat racing down the thighs and calves, his black belt now hanging more loosely around his waist. Echo gave a long sigh as he rose up onto the balls of his toes before he rolled and let his body fall forward.
His hands hit the floor hard and he held himself in a perfect plank position, arms half bent with his spine held near perfectly straight. Then, he began to do his push-ups, his body rising slowly and lowering even slower. It was a part of his training and a regime that his master had given him to improve his physique; pushup, then sit-up, then chin up and finish with twenty of each kick you know.
And so the young man began, his arms heavy and shaking. It was strange at first to understand how Echo had come to this dojo, given that he was raised in a Catholic church and was raised by Father Francis almost exclusively. But the young man had a history with other children, as if they could sense that he was different from them in a base and feral way. So different that it scared them and prompted them to treat the boy aggressively, from stealing his food and clothes to trying to beat him with sticks and lock him out of the building. Echo became very good at avoiding people and disappearing when he had to flee from people, a impressive skill that Francis praised for it's peaceful solution.
Then one day, when he was slightly older, he came across the recreational room as he sought to find some place for peace and quiet, just so he could read a book. Someone had left the TV on and what ever had been on before was over, because there was a movie with fighting in it. And Echo was transfixed by the graceful movements of the bodies, the physical discipline of the warriors and the…sheer confidence that they had in themselves.
Echo stopped his push ups, his entire body shaking on his one hundredth and twenty fourth repetition and his chest was throbbing from adrenaline. Lifting his left hand up, the student rolled his body onto his back and took a few breaths before he began his sit-ups.
As a child, when he had a moment to himself, he would mimic the movements he had seen on the screen and borrow books in the library on the various arts from across the world. He was surprised in himself at his own preference to kicking and his natural flexibility leant itself to this aspect of the martial arts.
Echo paused halfway between going back down onto his back, his mind gently reminding him of why he had come to the dojo in the first place. He had been out in the orphanage quad, with his favorite copy of Huckleberry Finn, and was imagining that he was off somewhere else, living on the river like the brave Huckleberry. One of the boys that always bullied him had come along with his friends and taken the book from him. Upset from being disturbed and worried for damage being done to a prized possession of his, Echo quickly scrambled after his book. But that had been the bully's plan all along, just to get a rise out of him and make him squirm.
Echo closed his eyes as he resumed his exercises, remembering how things had escalated far out of hand.
The young Tobias was at least a head and a half shorter that the older boy who held onto his book, dangling it just out his reaches. He could hear the other boys laughing and jeering him on, but he forced his attention remain with his book. It had been a gift from Father Francis and Tobias had taken the best of care when reading it.
"Aw, what's a matter, little Toby?" The bigger boy, a brute known as Simon, teased as he pushed the smaller boy back with his spare hand. "Does the little Echo want it back?"
"Give it already! I want it back!" Tobias snapped as he jumped for it and his finger just breezed under it.
"Whoops! That was close, crybaby. Catch, Michael!" Simon instructor sharply as he tossed to on of his cohorts and then hit the smaller boy in the chest with both hands in a rough push.
Tobias stumbled back and slipped, sprawling out in the mud. His white shirt and gray pants were covered in the goopy earth and his face was smeared with mud. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run to the boy named Michael, but someone hooked their foot around his and Tobias went face first in the mud again. Dirt and tears stung his eyes, his face starting to turn red as he looked at the circle of bullies. One of them tossed the book back to Simon and Tobias forced himself to stand again, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he tried to steady himself and clean his eyes.
"What are you doing to him, Simon?" An angry voice suddenly filled the space, Tobias's face flushing even more.
A girl, with long brunette hair and endless blue eyes, stormed over to Simon, both of the boys knowing her. She was Jessica, one of the nicer kids and someone that treated Tobias a bit nicer than the others did. Maybe that was way Tobias always felt shy around her, a pit in his stomach wriggling around as he would someone times be caught looking at her.
"Just playing with the freak a bit, that's all Jessie." Simon said, rolling his eyes and looking back at Tobias.
"Don't call him that!" Jessie said, smacking the bully in the back of the head and Simon turned to her with the utmost fury.
"Get lost, you loser!" Simon said as he shoved her back, the girl falling a lot harder than Tobias did.
"Hey! Leave her alone!" Tobias said, his hands shaking in fury and his green eyes flashing with adolescent rage unknown to him.
"Oh, what's this? The little freak likes her?" One of the boy's sneered, the others laughing at this.
"Yeah, Andrew, this freak sure fell for a useless piece of trash." Simon laughed, Jessica's friends helping her up. "Useless as the freak is!"
Tobias lost it and crossed the space between him and Simon in three steps forgetting about his decision to never fight. He knew how to hurt Simon and refrained because the bully only came after him; he could take the pain, he was used to it. But now he had attacked someone who had no place in the situation and that pissed him off.
Simon turned back to where Tobias was now and the smaller kid lashed his leg out, his shin colliding with the bully's knee. Simon cried out and stumbled to the side, Tobias able to see pain shooting up in his body. He lunged to the side, his body right in front of Simon's again and this time he swung the other leg at the same knee, hitting the inside of the leg this time. Simon twisted around and landed on one of his knees, his head now at Tobias's chest.
The look of pure shock on Simon, and everyone else around them, was etched on his face and Tobias's mind forever. Right up till Tobias rammed his fist into his tormentors face and grabbed the book at the same time, Simon crying out as sharp pain shot through him. Tobias pulled at the book but Simon wouldn't let it go and swung out with his own punch, the outsider snapping his leg up in a kick to the bully's face.
This time Simon let go and fell back in a mess of screams and weeping, the young Tobias looking over him with a ruthless sense of achievement. The sound of rushing feet caught his attention and he turned, his body going cold and numb at the troubled face of Father Francis.
"Tobias, what have you done?" He asked in fright and worry.
Suddenly, all of Tobias sense of victory vanished and he was filled with nothing but shame.
Shaking himself from the memories that were unpleasant and left a disdainful taste in him mouth, Echo gently stood up. He shook his arms and legs loose, alleviating the stress and tension that was in his limbs somewhat; thanks to his flexibility, Echo found his were able to exert themselves tremendously and recover quickly as well. His feet softly padded over to a rafter that hung above his head, the young man swing his arms in loose circles before he jumped up. His hooked onto the edge of the wooden beam, his body loftily swinging as he hung there before he turned his grip around and tensed his forearms.
He took a deep breath and lifted himself up cleanly, his arms and chest pulling up on his abdominals as he did so. As he lowered his body and raised it up again, he couldn't help but smile faintly at the scratch mark under his palms. He had been a very eager student, doing everything that he was told so he could learn more. Father Francis recognized, very much after the incident had occurred, that Echo had some talents in the arts and that maybe tutoring him in the arts would benefit him more punishing him. So they then sought out a school that would best suit him and they settled on a school that more than one discipline, ranging from traditional Karate and Tae Kwon Doe to more modern MMA and Krav Maga.
The young man had chosen to study more traditional arts and for the last twelve years had studied Hapkido, Wushu and recently, only for the past three years, he had been enrolled in the studies of Ninjitsu at the suggestion of one of his masters. Echo did like his new art, the careful attention to balance and precision a definite favorite of his and the sheer variety of weapons that he had been introduced to was amazing. But still, the flowery and electric styles of Hapkido and Wushu would always be his choice of arts. So much he liked those two, that he even became an assistant instructor to the beginner classes. Mind you, that also helped pay for his enrollment in the school and gave him access to the school at anytime he wanted.
And now that he was twenty, graduated from high school and able to leave the orphanage whenever he wanted, he was able to train nearly seven days a week. However, the reality still loomed over his head and he hung loosely from the rafter as he thought about his situation. He really couldn't stay at the orphanage anymore, most because he didn't want to and he couldn't do that to Father Francis. For the past year, the dojo had actually begun paying him to teach three times a week and with his part time job as a bike courier, Echo saving up that money in hopes of affording a cheap apartment. Dropping down to the floor, the young man was about to collect his gi shirt when one of the doors opened up and Echo turned to greet the newcomer.
It was his Ninjitsu master, Master Dogun, and upon seeing his master, the young man bowed accordingly to his teacher. The small, elderly man was just shorter than Echo and his lithe body was adorned with scars and wrinkles alike. Although past his prime, Dogun was still more than capable of tossing the young man around like a rag doll. And Echo knew he wasn't an opponent to take lightly, wondering and genuinely scared to have seen his master in prime.
"Ah, young Echo, I thought you might be the one to lock himself away for practice." The old man's voice was peppered with a thick Japanese accent, one that still confused new students to this day.
"Master…I wasn't expecting you to come in today." Echo said, his voice softly answered.
"I have an old friend from Japan coming to visit me and I wished to show him around the school while he was here." Dogen looked around and smiled wryly, indicating to a set of doors that was at the other end of the room. "Though I do have some time to spare now if you wish to amuse an old man…"
Echo's face broke in a wide grin and he hurried across the room, bowing swiftly to the rice paper. He slid the doors open, revealing a massive selection of weapons, and he took a moment to study his selection and weighed in his mind which would be the wisest choice for this little game with his master. Closing his eyes, he settled on his choice and took two Chinese broadswords off the rack, moving back into the center of the room to wait for his master to join him. The red cloth tails hung over his hand as he mentally prepared himself for using dual swords, a transition that caught some others up at times.
The elderly man stood in front of the selection as Echo had, glancing at his student with a small smile that only made the young man smile even more. He then reached over to the side and removed a spear, the red tassel at the metal head swaying lightly as he moved to his student. The older man held the staff against his shoulder and the younger man held both swords in both hands before him, both bowing slightly to the other and maintain eye contact as they rose up.
The older man suddenly snapped to attention, life seeming to surge through his veins again, and he brought the spear down in front of him. Echo moved at the same speed and at the same time, stepping on leg back and holding the swords in front of him in a staggered position. His right sword rested at his hip level and his left sword was held horizontally before him, the dull edges of the weapon gleaming as they waited for the first person to move.
The young man flicked his left wrist out and knocked the spear to the side with the flat of the blade, rolling his right arm up so he could block the blunt end of the spear that came at him. The wooden butt of the sword bounced off the sword and arched over and down to his leg, his sword swooping down and blocking it again. Wrapping his left sword around his head, he used the circular motion to slash across at Dogen and the elder man brought the other end around. This caught the handle and Echo's arms, the young man spinning with the blow and dropping down as he attacked the older man's knee.
The red tassel blurred down and slapped that hand to the outside, the student rolling over his shoulder to the right as the tip was flicked at him. He steadied himself immediately and found his master with his gaze, the older man sweeping the spear around to bring it crashing down on the young man's crown. Extending his arms up, he crossed the blades and blocked the spear at the neck; he then brought the guard down to block the blunt end as it streaked across the floor. As the wood connected with the metal, Echo used the force to send his body backwards and jumped as his back arched over, flipping upright again.
Rolling his wrists down as he swept in at his teacher, the blades of the swords, now pointing to the floor, swatted the spear aside as he approached when the master jabbed the tip at Echo. As he finished his fifth spin, the young man threw himself in a butterfly twist and held the handles across his waist; this made his small twister of blades and the master opted for rolling to the side when the young fighter threw himself at Dogen. The young man landed on his feet, not kneeling this time and looked at his master over his shoulder, smiling with anticipation.
The older man's spear shot through the air and instead of using his weapon, the young man swatted it away with a hook kick. As his foot landed, Echo began to twist his arms around and made what appeared to be a storm of swords heading to his master. Dogen swept the spear completely around his body and the student was forced to halt both swords on one side to block. The sheer momentum and force behind that strike made the young man stumble back, brining his swords up to guard. Like he was using his hand to slap an ignorant student, Dogen slapped one hand and then the other to open up his chest and face, literally flickering the spear faster than Echo was able to follow. The young inhaled sharply as the tip of the spear raced at his face and he jerked his head to the side as he stepped forward with his left leg.
Tilting his head to left, he kicked the spear away with right leg and blocked it with his left shin. As he went to step forward and give a double strike, the blunt end caught his base leg and swept his feet from underneath his body. His body crash onto his back and before he could flip up, the tip of the spear slapped down on his chest.
The young man knew that had this been a real fight, he would have died.
"Much better, apprentice. You are progressing very well, Echo." The Elderly man said as he let his young student stand.
"Thank you for the lesson, Master Dogen." Echo replied respectively with a bow.
"You are progressing very well, Echo. I feel that one day soon you will be able to beat me at this game." Dogen said appraisingly, as he returned the bow. "Wouldn't you agree, Snake-Eyes?"
Echo blinked and swiftly looked to the door that Dogen had entered through, greeted by the sight of fully covered man. The newcomer wore a skin tight shirt of some sort, that he guessed must have been long sleeved, and then a fully face mask with sleek piece of glass over the man's face, a visor of some sort, where he eyes should have been. The material must have been akin to latex or something along the line of Under-Armor, because it completely accented his all of his major muscles and major facial features. He wore black and white cameo pants on his legs, a thick belt and black combat boots completing the commando ninja image. Over all of this, he wore a long black coat over all of this and Echo could see a hood rest on his shoulders, the older man nodding to the younger man. Echo returned the bow, quirking a brow as the fully covered man started making signs with his hands.
"Yes, he is, very talented for his age." Dogen answered the silent gestures and then turned to Echo. "Echo, my old friend and I have much to discuss. Would please excuse us for a moment and use on of the other classrooms?"
"Yes, Master." Echo said with a slight declination of the head, swiftly crossing the room to put his weapons away and walked to the door. He glanced at the other man, the named his teacher had called Snake-Eyes, and gave him a polite nod of his head, one that was returned. "Sir…"
And he slipped past the ninja and went out the door; bowing again, he slid the door shut for his master and left the two to their own devices.
