12

"You're doomed, 'Lightning,'" stated a ginger-haired teen, fixing the mask to his face and jacket.

The opposing young man swept up his pale blonde hair and swiftly bound it with practice, his mask already hiding his face. "I wouldn't be too sure, Spice Boy." His foil was handed to him, being the unbeaten superior, though the other was slightly older.

Treize picked up his own foil off the floor by the tip and then flipped it over, back into his hand at the hilt. Though he handled the thin blade with intense practice, he hadn't done so since years before in his life. Of course, this gave him little-to-no reputation in the fencing club and team of Coswell's Preparatory Institution, which was but a few minutes from Nelson Technichal Highschool.

The course of the short fight proved interesting, to say the least. One could see just why Milliardo's nickname was, of course, Lightning, by his quick and decisive movements. Treize's prowess with the blade, however, was a total surprise.

The duel was declared a draw. Milliardo demanded a rematch.

"Work on it, Millie," Treize almost mumbled, a sharp tongue to the words. "Don't you want to win?" His unexpected voice mulled around Milliardo's thoughts, forcing him to work at retaining his attention on the battle. Treize's foil came at his right, so he moved right to counter it. But his arm didn't move right; it moved left.

"Treize! What're you thinking?!" Milliardo confronted his opponent. Treize chuckled to himself darkly. Milliardo's attacks continued to be directed away from his target.

Milliardo pulled back. He shouted as if it would bring an end to the world, "You asked for it, you stinkin' Manipulator!" The foil was thrust forward, and the crackle of electricity rent the air.

"Medic!" a student called out. "Medic! We need a medic!" The footsteps of the student, and soon another, echoed throughout the building.

Milliardo was perfectly fine and still in stance, and Treize had only faltered slightly, but the sharp bolt of static that had shot down the length of Milliardo's foil was enough to cause alarm. In reality, it should have killed them both.

Down the street at Nelson Tech, Heero was already making note of the situation, which had set off his "watch alarm".

Treize peeled open the collar of his jacket and held it for Milliardo to see, showing the black, rubbered lining. "You're through, Lightning, like I said."

Milliardo threw down the foil. The fencing match was over again. Time for the shouting match. "Dammit, Treize! You-!"

"What?" Treize egged.

"You freaking mutant!"

Treize removed his mask, showing that he was laughing. "Ah, but you're a freak, too!"

Milliardo drew in a quick breath, and also removed his own mask. He took in the sight of all the spectators with shocked vision, heartbeat speeding with realization, and felt his face pale. His audience appeared the same way.

He'd revealed himself. He'd revealed his powers for all to see. All because of Treize. The Manipulator.

"You -!"

"Unless..." Treize took off the fencing gear, piece by piece, interjecting his actions with speech, "... We have a deal?" Each piece was folded neatly and piled up.

Milliardo was startled and skeptical. "A deal?"

"My idea," Treize indicated. "The one you snooped through my notebook for to find out about?"

"How did you know -"

Treize thrust out a hand. "Shh. All part of the plan."

Again, Milliardo started to accuse. "You made me -"

"Hey!" a younger, male student spoke up. "Wasn't anyone paying attention in Earth Sciences? It's nothing but static charges built up on the surface. So it likes fencing foils! So what! It's just like touching a doorknob!"

Milliardo flipped back around to his opponent, his bleach-pale hair fanning out as an echo of his movements, though it was still tied. "What if we don't have a deal?" he demanded. Treize looked smug.

A girl jumped forward in the crowd of watchers. "Are you kidding?" she screamed. "He's got some kind of Electro-Marvel Comics thing going on! What a freak!"

"This'll be all OVER the news!" another young man cried out.

"All RIGHT!" Milliardo's deep voice reverberated loudly off the walls as he crumpled to the floor in defeat. His ankles were crossed and knees brought up to his elbows, laced fingers blocking a mouth that was uncertain.

"We do?" Treize asked with an eagerness and glee that only villains can possess.

Milliardo took a deep breath. "We have a deal."

"No way, man," said one of the second man's friends. "This is bogus. The smart geek's right." A squeak could be heard from across the group, before some people began to whisper and murmur. "Nice hoax to freak us out, man," he told Milliardo from afar, "but I ain't buyin' it."

The mob of students started talking loudly amongst itself and began to disperse, the young men and women leaving their standing points for the rapidly crowding halls.

Treize had his gear gathered up under both arms and a strange, but friendly smile on his face. In a very low voice, he told Milliardo, "Let's go." He turned, leading his new comrade out to the locker room.

Milliardo stood, retreiving his foil and mask. A breif passing glance at the gymnasium entrance revealed one more student who had not left. But Milliardo did not take much note of the young man who did not wear the Coswell school uniform, but a green T-shirt and jeans, with striking blue eyes and shocks of green through his tousled, dark brown hair.

TBC