Chapter 14: Memories
The individual stood in front of Hathaway. Several years older than him, he already had a sizeable reach advantage. His staff, however, made things even more difficult. He didn't even looked phase by the exchange that had been transpiring, while Hathaway was panting, winded. He took a slow, deep breath, calming himself.
Black Thorn felt heavy in his hand. He gripped it tightly with his right hand, his left in front of him, palm outwards to deflect incoming blows with his Semblance. He watched his opponent, whose lion-like ears were pulled back slightly and his tail flicked in agitation.
The other person spoke, but Hathaway couldn't hear his words over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. His rippling muscles were unusual for a boy his age, but so was the boy they belonged to. He had trained every day, for years, honing his skill with the staff.
The weapon was more a pike than anything, but he used it in a peculiar way. One end had a blunted ball at the tip, while the other had a small blade, no longer than a short sword that pulsed with arching electricity. The blunt end was facing Hathaway, while the bladed end faced away. The boy pointed it at him, before rushing, forcing Hathaway to use a blast to sidestep the blow.
The boy was fast. Too fast. Hathaway blocked the second blow, Black Thorn deflecting the bladed end, but the boy used the momentum to swing the staff's blunt end directly into Hathaway's right side. He felt his Aura falter and even felt the cracking of bone under his skin as the mace-like head of the staff impacted his body. Hard.
He bit back a scream and went to counterattack, blasting the boy backwards. He was sent reeling, but the bladed end caught on the ground and he flipped upwards, summersaulting into the air and landing safely farther back.
Hathaway pressed the attack, using his left hand to misdirect the staff, but even with a constant string of precise strikes and railgun-accelerated blows, he couldn't land a solid hit on the older boy.
Then, it happened. The blunt end slammed into Hathaway's right wrist, knocking Black Thorn from his hand. He cursed, and looked up to see the staff twirling. It spun around, carried by the momentum of the swing. Hathaway moved to get out of the way, but the bladed end came down halfway through his forearm, cleaving it in half at a diagonal angle. The look on the boy's face was one of pure, unadulterated malice, like the act had not been brutal enough. Hathaway was electrocuted during the slice, causing him to slump to the ground, holding what remained of his right arm. He shuddered and panted, on his knees, before letting out a blood-curdling scream.
Hathaway awoke with a start, cold sweat beading down his face. He shuddered, eyes wide in a panic, as his left arm moved to grab his right. He looked down, seeing that his prosthetic was gripping the arm of the chair so hard the weak metal had morphed around the shape of his hand. He blinked, not registering what had happened for a moment, before releasing the arm of the chair.
"Easy, partner!" Jack said, concerned. Hathaway barely heard it, but turned his head in direction anyway. The look on her face told him all he needed to know about his own personal appearance, as he was sure many of the people on the Argus Limited had similar concerns or questions. "Are you okay?"
Hathaway slowed his breathing, trying to get a handle on his anxiety, and nodded. "I'm fine," he said after a moment, absentmindedly grabbing the connection between flesh and metal on his arm. It felt like it did when he first had it connected. It hurt, fire and electricity and cold all at once. The doctor had said he might occasionally experience phantom pains, but he didn't expect it to persist three years later.
Jack looked at him, disbelieving his words. "You don't look fine."
He shook his head in dismissal. "It was just a bad dream. A bad memory." He stood up and sighed. "I'm going to go lay down in our bedroom. Sorry...for worrying you."
Jack stood up with him. "I don't think you should be alone right now," she said. "You look like you saw a ghost."
He looked down at the table before them, seeing his reflection in it. His eyes looked tired. His hair was a mess, matted from sweat. "I did," he replied simply, before turning to leave. Jack followed him, but let him have his space. He didn't say anything for the rest of the day.