Thanks for all the well wishes re the wallet. And yeah - the rest of the hols ain't too bad. Just got a bit of food poisoning, and that limits my consumption of spicy thai food - which perhaps can be viewed as an opportunity to shed some kilos. ;p

Anyway, here's chapter 10, and may you readers still find it as enjoyable as the previous ones. And, so remember to drop a line to let me know what you think too . NM: sorry about your computer - it happened to me recently too - so I lost like a half dozen completed drafts of my 24 crossover First Contact. Had to rewrite wince Hope you got everything nice and safe! And welcome back to the IT world again .


Growing Pains

by Jolly & Soda

CHAPTER 10:

31 hours later, Sunday, 9 a.m.:

The small group of survivors gathered in one of the main conference rooms of the FBI headquarters in New York City. There had been five assassins that they knew of. One was dead, killed by the two surviving agents in self-defense. Two were in critical condition from their fight with Somkid. The fourth had his throat quite badly injured by Joe's method of knocking him out. The last one who was incapacitated by Frank had regained consciousness, but had refused to talk.

The result of the night's attack was devastating. Twelve of the fifteen agents on duty were killed, and one more in critical condition at the hospital. Of the witnesses, only four were left: Joe, Phailin, Harry, and Yuki. Most of the parents and siblings were dead too. Yuki was now an orphan.

Around them was a flurry of activities, as numerous FBI agents busied themselves with the unavoidable paperwork and security reviews. At the back of the conference room, the team of public prosecutors and investigators reviewed the impact of the killings on the court case. It was clear that things were not well. The deaths of three key witnesses had put a dent on the case. On top of that, it seemed that someone had tampered with and destroyed the original CD of incriminating data as well.

Frank stayed close to Joe, but made sure he was positioned between the doorway and his brother. Just in case. He was still the big brother, and he was determined that the only way anyone could get to Joe would be through him. Of course Frank knew the futility of his action should the enemy decide to simply blow the room into smithereens. But this was something he could do. And it made him feel better.

With that, Frank turned his attention to the surviving kids. He noted that Harry, Phailin and Joe had taken turns napping and watching out for each other after arriving at the FBI headquarters six hours back. Little Yuki had slept throughout, always shielded between two of the older kids. Frank was touched when Joe and the other kids had included him in their group and had even given him the first shift. He knew that inclusion was in a large part because of Joe, and in part because of Anna-Marie's actions.

Anna-Marie! Frank felt his eyes start to tear as he recalled the little bundle of joy that he held for a short moment in his arms, the baby sister that he had had for just a few short hours. And the little girl whose innocent action had made him part of the group of escapees from the slavery ring.

No! He would not grieve now. There would be time aplenty for that later. He would use his skills to help bring down those murderers, while the others mourned. Keeping an eye on Joe, who was keeping an eye on Phailin and Harry, who were keeping an eye on Yuki, Frank let his thoughts wander back to the moment when the FBI agents first appeared at their home on Elm Street. From there, he replayed the entire sequence of events all over again, carefully sifting through the details that might yield the lead that he desperately wanted. How the first three victims were killed. How Joe was almost killed in his home. And finally the assassination attempt at the safe house.

Someone within the FBI and on the case had leaked the information. That much was clear.

One question that bugged him was; why were all the attempts focused on the last few days before trial? Surely the crime syndicate could have started paring down the number of witnesses as early as four months back?

Suddenly, Frank itched to go through the list of agents that his father managed to acquire, and the results of the background checks that Sam did. He was about to speak to his dad when a matronly woman approached him and the other kids with a tray of hot steamy breakfasts and tumblers of hot chocolate. His stomach growled, and he decided, having a quick breakfast wouldn't hurt. After all, the rest of the kids had to eat too.

Frank helped to pour the drinks and passed them around, and then helped himself to a nice warm mug. But before he could even take the first sip, Phailin let out a screeching and terrified scream," NO, DON'T DRINK!"

Then she went about knocking the cups from everyone's hands while they stood frozen, shocked by her actions.

The adults came running, wondering what happened.

Standing next to Joe and clinging desperately to him, a sickly pale Phailin said, "Bitter almonds."

OHBHBHBHBO

1 month earlier:

It was a lovely and quiet Saturday morning at Red Creek Pond. Two figures stood by the water's edge, their bodies moving in tandem in a graceful dance as they went through the entire set of Taiji forms.

When the dance came to an end, the two turned and faced each other, bowed, and then each took a fighting stance, and began their sparring practice. The young man had launched the attack, and the old man had dodged and countered. For those who understood martial arts, the choreography of the match was beautifully deadly. Every attack and counter attack could have been fatal had it found its mark. The younger was swift and aggressive. The elder was gracefully slow. It would not take long for the observer to realize that the elder's movements were simply remarkably efficient and minimal. And it was clear who the master here was.

All too soon, the old man's arm swept aside his youthful opponent's incoming punch, and continued its forward journey, only to halt right before the young man's chest where the heart would be. There was a second of absolute stillness between the two. Then the old man gave the young man a gentle tap on his chest with his attacking hand, and the two laughed.

Sparring practice had ended.

O

Mr. Pan stood before his work bench, working on the wooden structure for his garden. Every now and then, he would glance over at the young man diligently polishing the newly installed parquet floor. He could not believe that the heavens had been so kind as to grant him a disciple after all these years. The feeling that he got the first day he met Joe was right on – Joe had come to play an important part in his life.

Then Mr. Pan realized that Joe had noticed him staring. Joe suddenly smiled – not a good thing, Pan thought in consternation. Then Joe started making huge exaggerated circular movements. Mr. Pan could almost hear the words 'wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off…' And he laughed. Life with this young man was never boring.

Ah, Karate Kid. How often in the last few months he felt like Mr. Miyagi teaching and guiding Daniel Larusso! However, the Chinese martial arts Shifu-tudi (Master-disciple) relationship went a lot deeper, with serious obligations from both ends that was different but as serious as a father-son relationship.

And yes, Joe had come a long way from the sad youth with low self-esteem that he met three months back.

He recalled that night when Joe had shyly asked if he would take him formally on as a tudi (disciple, and that had him stumped for a moment. Joe had a good heart, and would never abuse the knowledge or skills. He had the right build and a naturally low center of gravity, making him a natural martial arts practitioner. And the months of sparring and practice had shown him that Joe had the aptitude to master the craft. But he had not expected Joe to want to take it to the next level. And he had known that Joe had been serious by the way he made the request.

Joe had misunderstood his hesitance that night, and assumed it was because of his impetuousness and rashness. He had quickly turned away in disappointment.

Mr. Pan, being a wise old man, had of course put a stop to that foolishness and after much coaxing, had managed to drag the story out of the young one. A responsible and intelligent elder brother who always thought before he acted. Ah, the usual better big brother on the pedestal story, he sighed.

So he sat the boy down for a serious chat. No, he did not consider Joe rash nor did Joe always act without thinking.

Joe of course refuted it, giving the example of the night when Mr. Pan had to rescue him from the three ruffians.

So Mr. Pan narrated the story of an exceptionally brave young man going to the rescue of a lady in distress. The young man only stayed long enough to pull the lady free, and then turned to escape together. He clearly knew they could not outrun the ruffians, and had sent the lady off in one direction while he stayed to buy her time. His plan was to hit each of the ruffians at least once to turn their anger on him, before running off too, since it was obvious he stood a higher chance of running away than the lady. Then unfortunately, he tripped. Accidents do happen, that was why they were called accidents.

Joe was silent for a while before protesting that that was a nice way of justifying his actions, but he was sure he wasn't thinking, much less planning all those steps, when he jumped to the rescue.

To Joe's surprise, Mr. Pan merely laughed and bet that his elder brother probably rushed to the rescue just as often, the only difference being the logical reasoning that came after the action.

Think about it, Mr. Pan had told Joe, before yawning and excusing himself to retire for the night.

And, Mr. Pan reminded Joe that he expected his new disciple to wake up early for his morning training.

O

Joe could not help but smile as he saw his Shifu break into a laugh over his antics. It made him happy to know that he had it within his power to make another happy.

And he wished with all his heart that he had it within his power to make his family happy. And to have them happy with him and proud of him. Joe sighed. He was still not ready.

Joe returned to polishing the floor. The monotony of the work soon found his mind wandering to how he got started with Taiji.

That was a little over a week after he started working on Mr. Pan's house and garden. Mr. Pan was trying to persuade him to attend some classes at the school where he was teaching. Joe had refused. Then Mr. Pan challenged him to a sparring match. Joe had refused at first, thinking that it would be an unfair match, given that he was on the boxing team at his school.

The old man had reminded him that he had taken down three men to save Joe a week back. At first, Joe was skeptical that a small sized old man could beat three young men who had so easily beaten him up. But after losing the sparring session, Joe admitted there might be something to those Bruce Lee movies after all. That was also when he discovered that Mr. Pan was a Taiji master.

And he had dutifully gone to school with Mr. Pan the following week.

When he first started learning, it was out of sheer curiosity. Of course he was not expecting to be able to fly around as depicted in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon or in Kill Bill Vol. 2, but he was curious as to whether there was…secret knowledge to be learnt. What he did not expect was for his interest in the art to grow. The forms were beautiful, but more intriguing was the philosophy underlying it.

Joe recalled the Chinese calligraphy he saw in his room when he first woke up in this house.

以柔克剛Yi Rou Ke Gang – With gentleness one overcomes brute force)

以慢勝快Yi Man Sheng Kuai – With deliberateness one defeats haste)

以靜制動Yi Jing Zhi Dong – With stillness one controls motion )

Back then, he could not comprehend its meanings. Now, he understood a part of it, and knew there was much more depth to those seemingly simple lines.

Yeah, he had learnt much over the past three months. Not only Taiji, but more importantly, he learned about himself. What he was capable of, and who he could be. The question now was what did he want to be?

That, he was still unsure of.

Joe looked at his Shifu again, and was hit by a sudden realization that the old man had known that he had needed, and had given him work, a roof over his head, and had made sure he continued with his schooling. Most importantly, he was given the time and space in which to grow into…himself.

It was a gift above all gifts.

And Joe resolved that he would never ever let Pan Shifu down. Then with a certainty that surprised himself, he knew he never would.

A peaceful sort of contentment started somewhere in the region of his heart, and slowly blossomed into a joyous calm. He found confidence again. And that was when Joe knew that he was almost ready to go home.
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