Somehow, I have managed to produce another chapter without a tremendous lag. Who knows when this will happen again? Me, and hopefully soon. Anyways, this chapter is a gift to y'all for my birthday, and I hope you enjoy it!
Lash Livingston is not a gym teacher.
Lash grunted as his head slammed back into the gym floor. His eyes stung, and his hand and thigh still seared with pain from where Peace had caught him with a couple of lucky fireballs. He saw his sidekick caught in a fistfight with a girl who seemed to have the upper hand. Even though her right arm was stiff and unmoving, she held Midas away from the Citizen with a surprising amount of skill. Whenever the kid wasn't reeling from a strike, he was slipping on the puddle of grease that trickled out of his opponent's hands.
Lash managed to climb to his feet in time to see Warren leap casually over the blades and bring the dummy gently to the floor. Coach Boomer's whistle pierced his ears as the P.E. teacher called the match. Across the court, Midas clapped his gloves together, ending the effects of his power on his gym clothes. The blond boy looked over at him and gave a sympathetic smile. It made him want to slam his head into the ceiling. How could Midas be so indifferent about losing all the time?
The question remained firmly planted in his mind as he trudged toward the BioBath Station. The strange, purple fluid repaired the damage to his hand and leg in a matter of minutes, leaving him healthy enough to make it to Mad Science only ten minutes late. His sidekick was already busy disassembling an Orgone Energy Projector. Midas didn't look up from the machine when Lash slid in next to him, he just nodded and pointed his finger at a small, glowing orb.
"Can you pass me that Chroma reactor?"
Lash passed the boy the orb before looking at the device. He barely ever paid attention in Mad Science, so he wasn't sure if he was looking at a power source or a weapon. He was pretty sure that it was a ray, though. It didn't look beam-y enough. Oh yeah. He was fucking clueless.
"Nice job in P.E., Alex."
The comment came unexpectedly from the inside of the machine, and Lash groaned at the use of his real name.
"That's really funny, Midas. We got our asses handed to us."
"You lasted two minutes against Warren Peace. That's something."
Lash just grunted and leaned back against the contraption. Midas gave a short yell as the machine quickly grew hot. Lash pulled away as a beam of bright blue light hit the wall near Mr. Medulla's desk. Immediately, the wall seemed to soften like melting butter, sagging toward the floor in a way that seemed distinctly structurally unsound. While everyone else stared in mild terror, Medulla seemed bored as he got out of his chair and inspected the wall. It jiggled slightly when he prodded it. After a few moments, he looked up at Lash and Midas.
"I could have done better," he said, "but that is a functional Warp Beam. Congratulations, Mr. Livingston. You actually made something that works."
Lash cringed as the eyes of the class turned towards him. Half of them had already seen him get demolished in Gym, and now they'd seen him almost melt a professor. He hunched over the lab bench and took out his phone, ready to text Speed and get the hell out of this place. Lash noticed that he had a text notification from his mom, so he opened it.
A brief skim told him all he needed to know. She was having a party at the house after school, and he wouldn't be able to get back in until 7 at the earliest, so he had to take the late bus. Lash groaned, wondering if there was any way for the day to get worse.
Civilian Interaction class was, blessedly, uneventful. Stronghold's girlfriend stumbled through an Identity Concealment presentation, making Lash laugh until his partner jabbed him in the kidney with a pen. When the bell finally rang, Lash stayed in his seat, trying to figure out what he'd do at the school for the next two hours. Duncan paused for a second as he walked by Lash's desk, his eyes glowing an unnatural gold.
"You've really lost your touch, Lash. Seems like you're on your way to becoming another loser."
Duncan smirked as he left the classroom, making Lash even angrier. God, he hated psychics. They always knew how to bug someone. After another five minutes spent brooding, he finally decided to head to his locker. The halls were already clearing out, and Speed was never late for leaving the building. So, Lash headed back to the gym.
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Lash tore into the punching bag with a fury. Fists, feet, and elbows flew as he imagined faces in front of him. Stronghold. Peace. Duncan. Sweat flowed in rivulets down his neck, gluing his shirt to his back. He'd spent the last hour training and thinking in solitude, and the sun was now starting to set outside the gym windows. Bars of light fell to the wooden floor in shafts of orange and gold while Lash hammered at the bag.
As the sky went dark and the fluorescent overhead lights flickered on, he finally took a break. Lash reached across the gym with arms that felt like limp noodles. He slowly unzipped his backpack and drew out a water bottle. The floor itself seemed to moan with exhaustion as he made his way to the bleachers. Lash drained the bottle in a few seconds of sweet hydration. He tossed the empty plastic to the floor, letting the sound of the impact echo through the otherwise silent gymnasium. Lash checked his watch.
6:02. The late bus wouldn't be leaving for another forty minutes.
He sighed as he considered getting up for more practice. In the center of the room, the punching bag was still slowly swinging as if to say it wasn't done either.
Before he could make up his mind, one of the gym doors creaked open. Lash slid backwards quietly as he recognized Midas. What the hell was the kid doing here? He waited until his sidekick made it to the center of the room before he spoke.
"Shouldn't you have gone home already?"
The blond flinched at the sound, then seemed to steady himself before turning back at Lash with poorly concealed shock. He allowed himself a smirk. It was always good to remember that sidekicks still feared him.
"Shouldn't you be home, too?"
The smirk died on his face as he examined Midas.
The kid was wearing a light blue t-shirt with army green pants. The fingerless black gloves were pulled down to his elbows, leaving only a thin strip of skin visible on his arms. Lash couldn't help but notice that there was definitely some muscle there. He ignored it, and tried to think of Midas as another analysis for his Costume Interpretation clas. The washed-out colors were probably meant to divert attention, but instead they only reminded Lash of just how dangerous his sidekick could be.
"Didn't feel like going home," Lash lied. "Stayed here to train."
Lash recognized the flicker of a smile that crossed Midas's face.
"Same here."
The sidekick brought his palms together in a quick clap, and instantly his clothes returned to their normal golden hue. Cautiously, he jabbed at the punching bag. The sound of the impact was barely audible, and the bag hardly moved an inch. But on the canvas, clear as day was the golden outline of a fist. Midas swung again, and again, leaving two more metallic splotches on the surface of the unmoved bag. Lash watched with a detached interest as the boy landed ineffective blow after ineffective blow. Eventually, he had to speak up.
"Try stepping into your punches," he called from the bleachers.
Midas paused for a moment, letting his wrist go limp mid-swing. "What?"
Lash sighed and made his way back to the center of the room. "I said try stepping into your punches, dumbass. That's literally the first thing they teach you in Freshman Physical Combat."
Midas's gaze dropped to the floor. "I… never had Physical Combat. That's a Hero course."
"Well that's just great," Lash said, "At least now I know why you're so useless."
He spared a glance at his partner, and saw exactly how downtrodden the boy was. Lash very quickly changed his tone.
"Unfortunately for both of us, that means I'll have to teach you."
Midas replied deadpan. "Wonderful."
"Glad to see you're as excited about this as I am."
"Can we just get this over with?"
"Fine," Lash said. "Let's start with the basics. I already saw that you don't tuck your thumb into your fist, so that's good. Now when I told you to step into your punches, I meant like this." He struck casually at the punching bag, making it swing gently. Lash used his hands to guide his sidekick through the steps while he explained.
"You bring your off foot forward. That's the one opposite the hand you're punching with. Turn into the step with the rest of your body, and as you do that, you're gonna bring your arm up and out to make contact."
"And this is what it looks like put together."
Lash lunged at the punching bag, arm extending just a bit to add some extra force to the hit. The bag swung back with a heavy thud. Lash looked his partner in the eyes.
"That's how you punch something. Now, give it a try."
Lash steadied the bag, then stepped away before Midas tried again. The sidekick stepped forward and swung, knocking the bag a few inches backwards. Another gold mark appeared on the surface.
Lash gave a few pointers on his partner's form, and watched as the blond threw himself back into practice. Every now and then, Lash would provide a tip, or show Midas a new technique. But mostly, he watched. Midas was a quick study, and the kid just wouldn't quit. Time passed in a blur as the punching bag slowly turned to gold. The chain that held it to the ceiling groaned in protest against the growing weight. Lash eventually decided to join him, teaching his partner the essentials of protecting himself and forcing the boy to move around to strike at the punching bag.
After a long while, Midas finally stepped away from the bag. Lash could hardly feel his arms as he sat back down. Midas brought his hands together again to remove the effects from his clothes, then looked over to Lash. He sat down next to the Hero and groaned. It was obvious that he'd never done anything like this before. But despite the obvious aches, Midas was still smiling.
"So, Alex… this is what being a Hero is like? I guess I finally have something real to tell my dad about-"
He froze, and Lash couldn't help but probe. There had to be a story there somewhere, and if there was, he could hang it over his partner's head forever.
"You mean," Lash started, "you're lying to your dad? About what?"
His sidekick seemed to deflate, losing the smile.
"I never lied to him exactly." He started slowly. "I just never told him that I was placed in Sidekick class. He still thinks that I'm a Hero."
Lash opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when Midas kept talking.
"It's just that. When school started for me, my brother had just gone Dark. My dad was crushed when Theo showed up on the news. Theo was the superstar. He was powerful, and smart, and perfect, and I was me. My dad never even asked what my power was when I told him I'd gotten them. And since my mom was sent to the Infinity Zone right after I was born, it was just me and my dad.
"He just assumed I was a Hero. And, then, I had just been placed in Sidekick class, and I knew if I told him, he would just break. So, I told myself I would tell him after Homecoming. But then Royal Pain pulled that whole stunt and it didn't seem like the right time. And then Christmas didn't seem like the right time. And eventually I figured it would just be easier to let him believe that things were great. He doesn't need to know, right?"
Midas's eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Lash wasn't sure what to do. He remembered himself, years ago, sitting on his porch on the verge of a breakdown. Chance had been by his side then, supportive in the face of so much loss. Lash was not Chance. He barely knew Midas. They weren't friends. They were barely even decent partners. Still, he wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulder in what he hoped was a supportive gesture.
"You've got this," he said gently.
Midas pulled away quickly, then stood back up and checked the clock on the gym wall.
"It's 8:20," Midas shouted, "I should've been home an hour ago!"
Lash jumped to his feet registering exactly how mad his mom was going to be.
"The late bus already left. Shit!"
"Don't worry, Alex." Midas was already pulling his phone from his pocket. He looked oddly calm for the severity of his situation. "I've got this."
Lash barely paid attention while his partner made some inane call to Stronghold about some connections he had or whatever. Instead, he made a final, gentle swing against the golden punching bag. He jumped as a loud snap shot through the room. The chain supporting the bag broke, and sent the punching bag crashing to the floor. Floorboards snapped and bent with an unholy cacophony of sound that echoed off the walls. Midas immediately hung up and ran for the door, Lash following behind.
When Ron Wilson, Bus Driver, finally showed up he was sworn to secrecy.
Well, that's that on that. As usual, please, please send some reviews. They let me know what I'm doing right, and what I'm doing wrong, so that I can write better fic. If you REALLY like it, favorite or follow. It would probably make my day. See you next chapter.
Love,
FishShips