Will and Fate Ch. 2Will and Fate Ch. 2
By Jeremy
May 1991
"Comin' at ya."
"Try it. Just try it!"
Jeremy came at him with a swift kick that Tom blocked and countered with a fine
series of jabs. The smallest of the two fighters fell back from the unslaught,
only to stand firm a few feet farther. Tom tried a nicely executed roundhouse
kick, which was dodged, immediately followed by a sweep kick. Both combattants
unlocked and fell back, gauging the other, studying the fighting stance, looking
for some sort of breach of defenses. They could see none, of course. They had
trained together for four years and knew each other far too well. Others might
have thought that fighting in these conditions would be rather dull but to them,
trying to fight with an opponent who knew them so well proved...extremely
challenging.
With a cry, Jeremy attacked with jabs, kicks, swings and all he could think of
in his arsenal, deliberately trying to distract Tom. But the bigger Storm was no
fool, standing his ground and blocking the attacks, even managing to get a punch
or two in, althought these did little damage. He tried to deliver a powerful
punch in the face, something his cousin had to dodge if he wanted his head still
attached. It was dodged, but not the way he tought it would be. Instead of
dropping and being caught by an hard kick in the stomach, the smaller youth
rolled with the punch, flinging himself backward and executing a satisfactory,
but shaky and imperfect, backflip. He did land on his feet, however, before his
cousin could recover from the swing of his punch, which carried him forward by
barely a feet.
That feet was all Jeremy wanted, crouching and delivering a swift kick to his
cousin's unbalanced feet. His center of gravity now completely taken, the bigger
combattant fell to the ground with a sharp yelp. He recovered after a moment,
scrambling to his feet and resuming his fighting stance. He stopped, however,
when he saw his cousin had relaxed his, wearing a smile on his face.
"Got ya there, big guy!" he laughed.
"Yeah, you sure did. How you manage these d*mn flips without breaking your neck
just amazes the heck out me." grumbled Tom
"Well, when you can do it, do it. If you can't, try."
"Dad doesn't say that; not gramps, either." said Tom.
"No, but I do." stated Jeremy, still smiling.
"You're weird, Jer."
"Maybe. Enough sparring for today?"
"Yeah, I'm beat. Lets get back, 'kay?"
The two started to walk out of the training space they had used for the last two
years, pulling off their training gloves as they chatted. One looking at them
would barely have recognized the two. Thomas was aleady incredibly large by the
standards of twelve-year olds. Jeremy was more average in height. However, both
were far more athletic and muscular then the average, and a disciplined outlook
that few could miss.
This was in no small thanks due to their father, Mattew - even Jeremy had taken
to calling him 'dad' - who had been true to his word and had treated them to one
of his harshest training routines, barely softening it because of their young
age. First, he had them do a steadily increasing amount of squats, push-ups and
sit-ups, always doing those with them. He also had them run a one-mile course
each weak with an heavy sack to increase their lung and cardiac capacity. In
winter, he did sessions of jogging with them, running in the snow to augment the
strength of their legs.
Aside from that, there were the classes at the dojo. There the two learned to
jump, block, kick, punch and do all sorts of other little techniques under the
watchful eyes of Mattew and sometimes their assistant. All the students soon saw
that the two had been singled out, for the training was much harder than theirs.
There was much complaining in the first few months. They couldn't do the
physical stuff at first: after twenty of each, they were just drained. They were
always unable to do the mile-long run at first, stopping again and again as
their lungs ached. As for running in the snow, they more stumbled along then
anything else, Mattew having to stop regularly to let them catch up to him. They
were sometimes so beat that more than once their mother had tried to have Mattew
give them a break. It was a futile try: he was adamant on the training.
Then, one day, Jeremy's complaints stopped. He threw himself into anything
Mattew told him to do with abandon, doing his best to do it exactly and
perfectly. Thomas was surprised at this, and then shocked as Jeremy started to
outperform him, both in the physical and training aspects. When he saw Jeremy
being granted a belt one level higher than he, feeling jealous at his father's
proud face when he looked at his smaller brother, he finally exploded the very
night.
"How come you've become so good? You do those hard things and you do them
without a peep. Its frustrating, you make these things look easy. But I know
they're not!"
Then his cousin had looked at him with the mild but amused look that was slowly
becoming his trademark, and surprised him.
"If you keep thinking its hard, then it'll be that. Start thinking 'This is
fun!' or 'Its easy!' and it won't seem too bad then."
They had said no more about that, but Tom soon decided to follow his cousin's
advice. To his surprise, it had worked. The training didn't seem as bad as all
that, and he started to get better quickly at all that. After their father
decided they had had enough, they stuck to the training - althought both decided
on a slightly more reasonable level. Soon, they were rising in skills and
strength. Within a year, even the big bully Ian and all the ilk like him gave
the two Storms a wide berth. He was quite pleased with that, but found that his
smaller sibling wasn't sharing the sentiment.
"I don't want to be a bully." was all he said when Tom asked him about it.
To Tom's mind, Jeremy was strange, very strange. He had a knack for
understanding and utilizing techniques that Tom lacked. He was more disciplined
as well, although he seemed quite gung-ho when trying out things he just
learned, like the backflip. These natural abilities made Thomas sometimes feel
clumsy because he couldn't always catch on to Jer.
Already it was starting to show. Jeremy had won his black belt nearly eight
months before, after a private test with senseis from other martial arts
schools, a test that he said was 'H*ll without the fire'. Thomas had barely been
able to reach the brown belt, and seemed stuck there, which irked him. In
training, he knew the only reason Jeremy didn't win more than his share was
because they knew each other so well and because Tom's far greater girth and
strength dampened Jeremy's skills and speed. However, more and more, the
stalemate was breaking as Jeremy' abilities grew by leaps and bounds while his
was a bare steady stream.
But, then again, he'd never be hurt by Jeremy, Right? They were brothers, right?
"How 'bout some meditation?" asked Jeremy when they arrived at the edge of their
training field.
Thomas pushed his gloomy thoughts aside and smiled ruefully. "What's the use? We
just can't do it yet, Jer. Too early. You heard what dad said."
"Yeah. And I heard grandpa say that things come in their own time. So why would
we go as slowly as our dads? My biological mother mastered it faster than him,
after all!" was the reasoned retort.
Thomas groaned. "Alright, you win. Just a few minutes." And he sat on the
ground, taking a meditative pose, a pose which looked like an indian prayer
position. Next to him, Jeremy took the same position, and both youths closed
their eyes.
For many minutes, both stood still, trying to find their center. They delved
within themselves, concentrating their minds on finding their spirit. Thomas
soon saw that it wasn't working. He wasn't feeling any different at all! He
finally sighed and opened his eyes. Jeremy still hadn't budged. He still seemed
in a trance. Right.
"Nothing?" he asked the meditating youth.
Jeremy slowly opened his eyes. They were frustrated, even a little angry. Tom
wasn't sure at whom... or what.
"No. AGH! This is killing me! I know we're doing this the wrong way, but HOW?!?"
He threw himself down on the ground in disgust. "I guess you're right. Its too
early for us to tap into our chi. But it still galls me." They turned as they
heard someone running up to them. They soon saw that it was Claudia. Thomas's
stare became interested while Jeremy stayed rather indifferent.
Claudia and Nate, their good friends, had grown themselves in the last four
years. Of the two, it was she who was changing the most, however. She was
taller, slimmer and her figure - to Tom's eyes - was daily growing more
beautiful. If there was one thing in which he was still far in advance of his
little brother, it was in realizing that women were beautiful and should be
admired. Jeremy still looked at girls the way kids did: as annoying, whiny
things who tried to look good for some unfathomable reason. Everytime Tom was
caught goggling, he had looked at him funny, as if he was some kind of crazy
person. He simply didn't know what he was missing, poor guy. Still, it was fun
to know he had some sort of edge over him.
Claudia, her blond hair streaming behind her, seemed quite in a hurry as she
came towards them. She ran to Tom with barely a glance of acknowledgement for
Jeremy, who really didn't seem to mind, and came to stand square before him. He
was just about to ask what was wrong, when he was treated to a large dose of
what he, Jeremy and Nate jokingly called Claudia's Verbal Beam.
"Tomimgladifoundyouyouknowithoughtyoudbeherewithjercuzthetwoofyoutrainalotnatetriesbuthesnotasgoodandsowhyamihereohyesoneofthecharacterofourplaydesistedandiwantyoutoreplacehimdoyouwanttodothatpleasepleaseprettyplease?"
The unending, incomprehensible stream of words deferled on the two youths, who
reacted in concert, the only way they've ever been able too.
"HUH??"
"Did you get that?" Tom asked Jeremy.
"Don't ask me. If I could punch as fast as she tells something, I'd die happy. I
got 'character', 'play' and 'please' but that's about all."
"Ah."
"Eh!"
"Wait...whats that about a play?" asked Tom.
"What I just said of course." commented Claudia.
"We're just too dumb to understand your fast speech. What did it mean in normal
english?"
"What I said was that one of our actors has skipped off, and I'd like you to
replace him." said Claudia.
Thomas blinked, counted to ten, then coughed. He didn't know how to respond,
really. Beside him, Jeremy started to laugh his head off, literally rolling
around in the grass. Claudia shot him a disgusted look, but Tom was too amazed -
no, horrified - to say anything.
"B-b-but Claudia, I don't know anything abouts plays and stuff like that!" he
finally exclaimed. It was, of course, a very bad way to defend oneself, but when
you don't know how to get yourself out of something, you have to either plead or
shut up. And Thomas didn't like silence. Claudia took a stern posture that, had
she known it, made her seem extremely cute but not stern at all. Thomas wasn't
going to tell her that.
"Oh, I see! As soon as something isn't physical, you don't know what to do, that
it?" she growled in a way that tried but utterly failed to be threatening.
Jeremy was almost choking by now in his laughter, which started to anger Tom
more than a little. "Instead of guffawing like a blasted moron, why don't you
help me?"
The smaller boy tried to rein in his laughter. "Why...hehe...should I? You can't
refuse...heh...it. H-hehe-h-honor demands it." he smiled wickedly. "If you don't
go, word'll around that you're a big chicken, right Claudia?"
Claudia's eyes glinted mischieviously. "Right. That's right! That's what'll
happen."
S***. D*mn. And fiddledsticks. Jer had just given her a lot of ammo and she was
willing to use, d*mm*t! Still, pride demanded that he made a fighting effort to
retain some dignity.
"I won't do it if its a large role. No way, no how."
"Don't worry." Claudia purred. "Its just a small part. The character's supposed
to be big and strong. So you fit it perfectly!"
"What's the part?" asked Jeremy.
"Oh, a woodcutter." was the off-handed answer.
Hearing this, Jeremy started to laugh harder than ever, this time holding his
sides as if they hurt. "You're right! Its perfect for him! Take it, Tom! Its you
all over!"
Thomas spat him a curse. Then he sighed. "Alright. I'll do it. As long as its a
very SMALL role." he warned.
Claudia smiled and clapped her hands, hopping in her joy. "Awright! You won't
regret that."
"Claudia, good friend, dear friend, he already regrets it." smirked Jeremy.
Thomas found that it was only too true a statement.
* * * * *
Two days later...
"And I say that them boys are cursed, ma'am!"
Nate shook his head. "No, here is says 'I say them boys be accursed, ma'am.' You
really have to concentrate." he put the booklet down and faced Tom, who was
pacing around.
"Well, excuuse me! I'm not the one who left this gig four days before the show."
The miffed answer came.
"And its not me who gave you that d*mn role, so lay off, I'm just trying to
help!!!"
"When I find the loser who did this..." he left the thought unfinished.
"If you have to do this, could you go someplace else. This is our training
field, not some theatre." This came from Jeremy, who was practicing katas
farther off. Tom's theatrical training wasn't going well. In the two days he had
taken to learn and remember his character in the play, he had made little
headway, not to say none. Worse, his rants about the play were beginning to wear
on everyone's nerve, even Thomas' father, who had banned any such rehearshal
from his house. Thus they were here, on Tom's favorite place after his home. And
they were starting to give up. Nate still couldn't believe Claudia had talked
him into helping his big friend. It just....well, just wasn't something he was
good at.
Presently, he looked at Jeremy. "At least your not stuck with these lines!" he
retorted.
"No, but I've been having them shouted at me for the past two hours! If this
keeps up, I'll be repeating 'accursed' and 'wood' in my sleep! Would you mind
just going someplace else?"
"Well, as a matter of fact bro, yes!"
"Fine. I'll go help mom and dad back at the house. Good luck to ya!"
They both gazed at Jeremy's back. Sensing them, he turned. "Oh yeah. Mom and
dad'll be at the play. So you better shape up!" He left. Tom immediately began
freaking out
"AAGH! If I don't do good, I'll never hear the end of it! Give me that text, I
wanna see it!"
Nate sighed. This was going to be a long day...
* * * * *
That Evening...
Jeremy was meditating. Or, at least, he was trying to, with a restless sibling
filling the entire house with anxiety. The worst was, he was largely to blame
this time: his tease about the parents had made the poor guy worse than nervous.
Now Tom was tearing into everything, showing little patience for anything. Right
now, he was sitting nearby, muttering something incherent while staring at the
news on the TV. Pent up frustration at having his afternoon exercice litterally
revoked by two arguing boys, added to this continuing streak of rants finally
caused the mild youth to burst with enervation.
"Enough! If you can't do anything else than rant, go do something to occupy your
mind!" he snapped.
"Like what, genius?" was the frustrated spout.
"I don't know and I don't CARE!! As long as its more CONSTRUCTIVE than this d*mn
muttering and MOSTLY as long as its FAR from me!"
Thomas looked at him angrily. "You really are a great help, you know, little
bro!?!"
"I'm honored to be. Now get your *ss out of here."
With an angry grunt and more mutterings, Thomas stalked out the sitting room's
entryway. A few seconds later, he heard the slamming of a door. He didn't know
which and he didn't care. Peace, at last. Now he could get back on tapping his
chi, a task that, of yet, had eluded all of his efforts.
He had come to the conclusion that focusing his thoughts might be the wrong way
to go about doing that. Perhaps, he surmised, he had to let it come to him
instead of hounding it. He didn't know. But at least he was wiling to experiment
on his theory. He concentrated, found his inner balance. And then, instead of
concentrating upon it, he let it go away, drifting, letting him take him where
it pleased it.
His center took him to pleasant memories, which filed past him quickly. Tom and
him playing tag. Mattew teaching him how to swim. Samantha shooting him when he
had hurt himself playing outside. Him petting grandpa's dog, a strong but mellow
doberman. Claudia and Nate laughing. Such sweet memories. He felt himself being
absorbed in them, and let it happen.
Can't believe in this, you know.
What, now its my fault?!?
I was holding back, last time! No more!
Well...maybe its not that bad.
I love you, stupid girl.
Jeremy snapped out of his trance, dazed and frantic. What the h*ll was that? It
had never happened before in these meditation sessions. He struggled to
remember. These sentences...it was...he was the one who spoke them. But it
wasn't really his voice, it seemed more....weathered....somewhat older. More
cynical, too. He wasn't sure he liked all the tones he had heard. The love
declaration seemed okay, but others, especially the one about not holding back,
seemed downright belligerent. And angry. No, not angry...enraged. He sounded
furious, hostile. He shook his head. But why did these things pop into his head?
And why did they seem so...right?
One thing's for sure, he thought savagely, I'm not trying this again. At
least...at least I know what I did and what its supposed to be. He then cried
out as an overpowering wave of agony took residence in his head. No one heard:
he just chased Tom away, and Mattew and Samantha were off visiting friends of
theirs. He tried to stand up, failed as the pain intensified. He couldn't
scream, it was just too intense. He collapsed on the wooden floor.
Note to self: when someone says you're not ready, give him some credit. He
thought as blackness overtook him.
* * * * *
The same evening...
Frank Hammerbound tried to block the attack that was coming, but only managed to
get his arm damaged, once again. This time, however, the pain was worse than
ever. He heard an oily crack and cried out, knowing his left arm was broken. His
mind searched for ways to escape his foe, knowing full well that there was no
escape. This place was too far from his house to expect help, and he could never
hope to outrun the figure in front of him, especially in his exhausted state.
The worst of the situation was that he knew he had brought this upon himself.
For the past six months, he'd been making night escapades to the lake not too
far from his house, against his parents' interdictions. It had always worried
him at first, that they should find out. His father would've had kittens, and
his mother...well, it'd be best not to dwell on that. But, as time wore on, he
came to like these little times by himself, away from the restrictions of home.
Of course, it also put him in a very vulnerable position, but he'd never
worried. Tonight, he realized he should have.
Tonight, he was paying the price.
He cried out as punch after iron-like punch pounded into him relentlessly. He
was at the limits of his strength, ready to collapse. The figure, which he
couldn't make out in the gloom, didn't seem to be even winded. Staggering, he
tried to turn and run, but received a tremendous blow to the back. He screamed,
the pain lacing and streaming throught his body. He heard another crack, and his
legs failed under him. He fell, and found out that he couldn't move his legs at
all. The realization caused him to go into a full-blown panic.
NONONO MY BACK GOD HE BROKE MY BACK HE'S GONNA KILL ME GOD HE BROKE MY BACK...
went through his head as he tried desperately to crawl, run scramble, anything
just to get away from there.
"Yeah, I'm going to kill you. So try to take death with a bit of pride." said a
coldly amused voice matter-of-factly.
Saying so, the figure kicked him again. He gasped as fresh pain came to him.
Still, in the back of his mind, something told him he knew that voice. But whose
was it?
"You're so pathetic..." said the voice, stepping towards him. Frank tried to
crawl, but finally stopped with a sob. He then let go completely, letting go of
hope and life. Then, in a flash, his mind placed the voice.
"You! I know you!" he shouted desperately. Another kick silenced him painfully.
"Yes. It won't change the outcome." was the indifferent reply.
Frank knew that. He also knew he was dead. But, still, he tried to stall it as
long as he could.
"B-but why? Why do you want to kill me?" he asked throught clenched teeth.
The figure stopped, seemed to hesitate. A faint hope stirred in the crippled
youth. However, it was quickly dashed as the figure - one he now knew - raised
his fett above Frank's head.
"That's a good one, you know." said the voice, as if considering the matter
profoundly. "Why would I kill you?" And then, just before the foot came down to
crush the life out of Frank Hammerbound, twelve-year old youth who had an
unfortunate streak of desobedience, the answer, cold and definite, was heard.
"Whyever not?"
* * * * *
Later that evening...
"If you don't wake up, Jer, I'm going to get you to the nearest clinic, even if
I have to carry you all the way there!"
The frustrated but worried voice cut throught Jeremy's blackness. He opened his
eyes, blinked at the light, and finally focused on the tense and worried face of
Thomas Storm. His answer was quick and typical.
"Ohh man. You can't ba an angel, it'd be too lame." he said
"I'll take that as a 'I'm okay'." said Tom.
Jeremy nodded. The pain was alomst gone. Obviously what he had gone throught was
over. He started when he discovered he was lying in the entry way, not the
sitting room.
"How did I get here?" he asked, bewildered.
"You were sleepwalking. I really freaked out when I saw you. After tonight..."
he stopped, and Jeremy knew something was up.
"What? What happened tonight?"
"Well...I wanted to wait until you were better but...Claudia gave this call
and...well, you know..."
"Just spit it out, Tom!" snapped Jeremy. The freaking experience of the evening
wasn't putting him in a good mood.
Tom grimaced. "Ah...well, you know that guy who stays near Claudia's? You know,
the nature-lover or such?"
"Yeah...Frank or Francis, right?"
"Bingo. Well, he's dead...beaten to death."
"What?"
"Yep. an old man found him. He'd been dragged out of the woods an on the walkway
in front of his house." his voice was grim. "Claudia called here. She was
freaked. After a while, I went to get you. That's when I saw you roaming
outside."
"S***."
"You bet. Well, nothing we can do about it, except hope the police'll get the
*ssh*le."
"Mom would wup you to tomorrow if she heard that expression from you."
"What can I say? He is an *ssh*le."
Jeremy groaned. "Well, I'll talk to her tomorrow. I'm too beat."
"You look that, alright. What did you do?"
"Something I won't try again for a long time." Jeremy stated earnestly.
Thomas nodded. "Well, I don't have much to do. Might as well do the same."
Jeremy had started ascending the stairs, but stopped. "What about the play at
school."
"Claudia called it off after this."
"Uhn. Lucky you, bro."
"Yeah, lucky me."
But althought the two young fighters spoke those words, one would have been
hard-pressed to find anything else then soberness in their expressions. It just
wasn't the kind of luck people usually enjoyed.
net2phone
undefined
More...
[Close]
[Close]
undefined
By Jeremy
May 1991
"Comin' at ya."
"Try it. Just try it!"
Jeremy came at him with a swift kick that Tom blocked and countered with a fine
series of jabs. The smallest of the two fighters fell back from the unslaught,
only to stand firm a few feet farther. Tom tried a nicely executed roundhouse
kick, which was dodged, immediately followed by a sweep kick. Both combattants
unlocked and fell back, gauging the other, studying the fighting stance, looking
for some sort of breach of defenses. They could see none, of course. They had
trained together for four years and knew each other far too well. Others might
have thought that fighting in these conditions would be rather dull but to them,
trying to fight with an opponent who knew them so well proved...extremely
challenging.
With a cry, Jeremy attacked with jabs, kicks, swings and all he could think of
in his arsenal, deliberately trying to distract Tom. But the bigger Storm was no
fool, standing his ground and blocking the attacks, even managing to get a punch
or two in, althought these did little damage. He tried to deliver a powerful
punch in the face, something his cousin had to dodge if he wanted his head still
attached. It was dodged, but not the way he tought it would be. Instead of
dropping and being caught by an hard kick in the stomach, the smaller youth
rolled with the punch, flinging himself backward and executing a satisfactory,
but shaky and imperfect, backflip. He did land on his feet, however, before his
cousin could recover from the swing of his punch, which carried him forward by
barely a feet.
That feet was all Jeremy wanted, crouching and delivering a swift kick to his
cousin's unbalanced feet. His center of gravity now completely taken, the bigger
combattant fell to the ground with a sharp yelp. He recovered after a moment,
scrambling to his feet and resuming his fighting stance. He stopped, however,
when he saw his cousin had relaxed his, wearing a smile on his face.
"Got ya there, big guy!" he laughed.
"Yeah, you sure did. How you manage these d*mn flips without breaking your neck
just amazes the heck out me." grumbled Tom
"Well, when you can do it, do it. If you can't, try."
"Dad doesn't say that; not gramps, either." said Tom.
"No, but I do." stated Jeremy, still smiling.
"You're weird, Jer."
"Maybe. Enough sparring for today?"
"Yeah, I'm beat. Lets get back, 'kay?"
The two started to walk out of the training space they had used for the last two
years, pulling off their training gloves as they chatted. One looking at them
would barely have recognized the two. Thomas was aleady incredibly large by the
standards of twelve-year olds. Jeremy was more average in height. However, both
were far more athletic and muscular then the average, and a disciplined outlook
that few could miss.
This was in no small thanks due to their father, Mattew - even Jeremy had taken
to calling him 'dad' - who had been true to his word and had treated them to one
of his harshest training routines, barely softening it because of their young
age. First, he had them do a steadily increasing amount of squats, push-ups and
sit-ups, always doing those with them. He also had them run a one-mile course
each weak with an heavy sack to increase their lung and cardiac capacity. In
winter, he did sessions of jogging with them, running in the snow to augment the
strength of their legs.
Aside from that, there were the classes at the dojo. There the two learned to
jump, block, kick, punch and do all sorts of other little techniques under the
watchful eyes of Mattew and sometimes their assistant. All the students soon saw
that the two had been singled out, for the training was much harder than theirs.
There was much complaining in the first few months. They couldn't do the
physical stuff at first: after twenty of each, they were just drained. They were
always unable to do the mile-long run at first, stopping again and again as
their lungs ached. As for running in the snow, they more stumbled along then
anything else, Mattew having to stop regularly to let them catch up to him. They
were sometimes so beat that more than once their mother had tried to have Mattew
give them a break. It was a futile try: he was adamant on the training.
Then, one day, Jeremy's complaints stopped. He threw himself into anything
Mattew told him to do with abandon, doing his best to do it exactly and
perfectly. Thomas was surprised at this, and then shocked as Jeremy started to
outperform him, both in the physical and training aspects. When he saw Jeremy
being granted a belt one level higher than he, feeling jealous at his father's
proud face when he looked at his smaller brother, he finally exploded the very
night.
"How come you've become so good? You do those hard things and you do them
without a peep. Its frustrating, you make these things look easy. But I know
they're not!"
Then his cousin had looked at him with the mild but amused look that was slowly
becoming his trademark, and surprised him.
"If you keep thinking its hard, then it'll be that. Start thinking 'This is
fun!' or 'Its easy!' and it won't seem too bad then."
They had said no more about that, but Tom soon decided to follow his cousin's
advice. To his surprise, it had worked. The training didn't seem as bad as all
that, and he started to get better quickly at all that. After their father
decided they had had enough, they stuck to the training - althought both decided
on a slightly more reasonable level. Soon, they were rising in skills and
strength. Within a year, even the big bully Ian and all the ilk like him gave
the two Storms a wide berth. He was quite pleased with that, but found that his
smaller sibling wasn't sharing the sentiment.
"I don't want to be a bully." was all he said when Tom asked him about it.
To Tom's mind, Jeremy was strange, very strange. He had a knack for
understanding and utilizing techniques that Tom lacked. He was more disciplined
as well, although he seemed quite gung-ho when trying out things he just
learned, like the backflip. These natural abilities made Thomas sometimes feel
clumsy because he couldn't always catch on to Jer.
Already it was starting to show. Jeremy had won his black belt nearly eight
months before, after a private test with senseis from other martial arts
schools, a test that he said was 'H*ll without the fire'. Thomas had barely been
able to reach the brown belt, and seemed stuck there, which irked him. In
training, he knew the only reason Jeremy didn't win more than his share was
because they knew each other so well and because Tom's far greater girth and
strength dampened Jeremy's skills and speed. However, more and more, the
stalemate was breaking as Jeremy' abilities grew by leaps and bounds while his
was a bare steady stream.
But, then again, he'd never be hurt by Jeremy, Right? They were brothers, right?
"How 'bout some meditation?" asked Jeremy when they arrived at the edge of their
training field.
Thomas pushed his gloomy thoughts aside and smiled ruefully. "What's the use? We
just can't do it yet, Jer. Too early. You heard what dad said."
"Yeah. And I heard grandpa say that things come in their own time. So why would
we go as slowly as our dads? My biological mother mastered it faster than him,
after all!" was the reasoned retort.
Thomas groaned. "Alright, you win. Just a few minutes." And he sat on the
ground, taking a meditative pose, a pose which looked like an indian prayer
position. Next to him, Jeremy took the same position, and both youths closed
their eyes.
For many minutes, both stood still, trying to find their center. They delved
within themselves, concentrating their minds on finding their spirit. Thomas
soon saw that it wasn't working. He wasn't feeling any different at all! He
finally sighed and opened his eyes. Jeremy still hadn't budged. He still seemed
in a trance. Right.
"Nothing?" he asked the meditating youth.
Jeremy slowly opened his eyes. They were frustrated, even a little angry. Tom
wasn't sure at whom... or what.
"No. AGH! This is killing me! I know we're doing this the wrong way, but HOW?!?"
He threw himself down on the ground in disgust. "I guess you're right. Its too
early for us to tap into our chi. But it still galls me." They turned as they
heard someone running up to them. They soon saw that it was Claudia. Thomas's
stare became interested while Jeremy stayed rather indifferent.
Claudia and Nate, their good friends, had grown themselves in the last four
years. Of the two, it was she who was changing the most, however. She was
taller, slimmer and her figure - to Tom's eyes - was daily growing more
beautiful. If there was one thing in which he was still far in advance of his
little brother, it was in realizing that women were beautiful and should be
admired. Jeremy still looked at girls the way kids did: as annoying, whiny
things who tried to look good for some unfathomable reason. Everytime Tom was
caught goggling, he had looked at him funny, as if he was some kind of crazy
person. He simply didn't know what he was missing, poor guy. Still, it was fun
to know he had some sort of edge over him.
Claudia, her blond hair streaming behind her, seemed quite in a hurry as she
came towards them. She ran to Tom with barely a glance of acknowledgement for
Jeremy, who really didn't seem to mind, and came to stand square before him. He
was just about to ask what was wrong, when he was treated to a large dose of
what he, Jeremy and Nate jokingly called Claudia's Verbal Beam.
"Tomimgladifoundyouyouknowithoughtyoudbeherewithjercuzthetwoofyoutrainalotnatetriesbuthesnotasgoodandsowhyamihereohyesoneofthecharacterofourplaydesistedandiwantyoutoreplacehimdoyouwanttodothatpleasepleaseprettyplease?"
The unending, incomprehensible stream of words deferled on the two youths, who
reacted in concert, the only way they've ever been able too.
"HUH??"
"Did you get that?" Tom asked Jeremy.
"Don't ask me. If I could punch as fast as she tells something, I'd die happy. I
got 'character', 'play' and 'please' but that's about all."
"Ah."
"Eh!"
"Wait...whats that about a play?" asked Tom.
"What I just said of course." commented Claudia.
"We're just too dumb to understand your fast speech. What did it mean in normal
english?"
"What I said was that one of our actors has skipped off, and I'd like you to
replace him." said Claudia.
Thomas blinked, counted to ten, then coughed. He didn't know how to respond,
really. Beside him, Jeremy started to laugh his head off, literally rolling
around in the grass. Claudia shot him a disgusted look, but Tom was too amazed -
no, horrified - to say anything.
"B-b-but Claudia, I don't know anything abouts plays and stuff like that!" he
finally exclaimed. It was, of course, a very bad way to defend oneself, but when
you don't know how to get yourself out of something, you have to either plead or
shut up. And Thomas didn't like silence. Claudia took a stern posture that, had
she known it, made her seem extremely cute but not stern at all. Thomas wasn't
going to tell her that.
"Oh, I see! As soon as something isn't physical, you don't know what to do, that
it?" she growled in a way that tried but utterly failed to be threatening.
Jeremy was almost choking by now in his laughter, which started to anger Tom
more than a little. "Instead of guffawing like a blasted moron, why don't you
help me?"
The smaller boy tried to rein in his laughter. "Why...hehe...should I? You can't
refuse...heh...it. H-hehe-h-honor demands it." he smiled wickedly. "If you don't
go, word'll around that you're a big chicken, right Claudia?"
Claudia's eyes glinted mischieviously. "Right. That's right! That's what'll
happen."
S***. D*mn. And fiddledsticks. Jer had just given her a lot of ammo and she was
willing to use, d*mm*t! Still, pride demanded that he made a fighting effort to
retain some dignity.
"I won't do it if its a large role. No way, no how."
"Don't worry." Claudia purred. "Its just a small part. The character's supposed
to be big and strong. So you fit it perfectly!"
"What's the part?" asked Jeremy.
"Oh, a woodcutter." was the off-handed answer.
Hearing this, Jeremy started to laugh harder than ever, this time holding his
sides as if they hurt. "You're right! Its perfect for him! Take it, Tom! Its you
all over!"
Thomas spat him a curse. Then he sighed. "Alright. I'll do it. As long as its a
very SMALL role." he warned.
Claudia smiled and clapped her hands, hopping in her joy. "Awright! You won't
regret that."
"Claudia, good friend, dear friend, he already regrets it." smirked Jeremy.
Thomas found that it was only too true a statement.
* * * * *
Two days later...
"And I say that them boys are cursed, ma'am!"
Nate shook his head. "No, here is says 'I say them boys be accursed, ma'am.' You
really have to concentrate." he put the booklet down and faced Tom, who was
pacing around.
"Well, excuuse me! I'm not the one who left this gig four days before the show."
The miffed answer came.
"And its not me who gave you that d*mn role, so lay off, I'm just trying to
help!!!"
"When I find the loser who did this..." he left the thought unfinished.
"If you have to do this, could you go someplace else. This is our training
field, not some theatre." This came from Jeremy, who was practicing katas
farther off. Tom's theatrical training wasn't going well. In the two days he had
taken to learn and remember his character in the play, he had made little
headway, not to say none. Worse, his rants about the play were beginning to wear
on everyone's nerve, even Thomas' father, who had banned any such rehearshal
from his house. Thus they were here, on Tom's favorite place after his home. And
they were starting to give up. Nate still couldn't believe Claudia had talked
him into helping his big friend. It just....well, just wasn't something he was
good at.
Presently, he looked at Jeremy. "At least your not stuck with these lines!" he
retorted.
"No, but I've been having them shouted at me for the past two hours! If this
keeps up, I'll be repeating 'accursed' and 'wood' in my sleep! Would you mind
just going someplace else?"
"Well, as a matter of fact bro, yes!"
"Fine. I'll go help mom and dad back at the house. Good luck to ya!"
They both gazed at Jeremy's back. Sensing them, he turned. "Oh yeah. Mom and
dad'll be at the play. So you better shape up!" He left. Tom immediately began
freaking out
"AAGH! If I don't do good, I'll never hear the end of it! Give me that text, I
wanna see it!"
Nate sighed. This was going to be a long day...
* * * * *
That Evening...
Jeremy was meditating. Or, at least, he was trying to, with a restless sibling
filling the entire house with anxiety. The worst was, he was largely to blame
this time: his tease about the parents had made the poor guy worse than nervous.
Now Tom was tearing into everything, showing little patience for anything. Right
now, he was sitting nearby, muttering something incherent while staring at the
news on the TV. Pent up frustration at having his afternoon exercice litterally
revoked by two arguing boys, added to this continuing streak of rants finally
caused the mild youth to burst with enervation.
"Enough! If you can't do anything else than rant, go do something to occupy your
mind!" he snapped.
"Like what, genius?" was the frustrated spout.
"I don't know and I don't CARE!! As long as its more CONSTRUCTIVE than this d*mn
muttering and MOSTLY as long as its FAR from me!"
Thomas looked at him angrily. "You really are a great help, you know, little
bro!?!"
"I'm honored to be. Now get your *ss out of here."
With an angry grunt and more mutterings, Thomas stalked out the sitting room's
entryway. A few seconds later, he heard the slamming of a door. He didn't know
which and he didn't care. Peace, at last. Now he could get back on tapping his
chi, a task that, of yet, had eluded all of his efforts.
He had come to the conclusion that focusing his thoughts might be the wrong way
to go about doing that. Perhaps, he surmised, he had to let it come to him
instead of hounding it. He didn't know. But at least he was wiling to experiment
on his theory. He concentrated, found his inner balance. And then, instead of
concentrating upon it, he let it go away, drifting, letting him take him where
it pleased it.
His center took him to pleasant memories, which filed past him quickly. Tom and
him playing tag. Mattew teaching him how to swim. Samantha shooting him when he
had hurt himself playing outside. Him petting grandpa's dog, a strong but mellow
doberman. Claudia and Nate laughing. Such sweet memories. He felt himself being
absorbed in them, and let it happen.
Can't believe in this, you know.
What, now its my fault?!?
I was holding back, last time! No more!
Well...maybe its not that bad.
I love you, stupid girl.
Jeremy snapped out of his trance, dazed and frantic. What the h*ll was that? It
had never happened before in these meditation sessions. He struggled to
remember. These sentences...it was...he was the one who spoke them. But it
wasn't really his voice, it seemed more....weathered....somewhat older. More
cynical, too. He wasn't sure he liked all the tones he had heard. The love
declaration seemed okay, but others, especially the one about not holding back,
seemed downright belligerent. And angry. No, not angry...enraged. He sounded
furious, hostile. He shook his head. But why did these things pop into his head?
And why did they seem so...right?
One thing's for sure, he thought savagely, I'm not trying this again. At
least...at least I know what I did and what its supposed to be. He then cried
out as an overpowering wave of agony took residence in his head. No one heard:
he just chased Tom away, and Mattew and Samantha were off visiting friends of
theirs. He tried to stand up, failed as the pain intensified. He couldn't
scream, it was just too intense. He collapsed on the wooden floor.
Note to self: when someone says you're not ready, give him some credit. He
thought as blackness overtook him.
* * * * *
The same evening...
Frank Hammerbound tried to block the attack that was coming, but only managed to
get his arm damaged, once again. This time, however, the pain was worse than
ever. He heard an oily crack and cried out, knowing his left arm was broken. His
mind searched for ways to escape his foe, knowing full well that there was no
escape. This place was too far from his house to expect help, and he could never
hope to outrun the figure in front of him, especially in his exhausted state.
The worst of the situation was that he knew he had brought this upon himself.
For the past six months, he'd been making night escapades to the lake not too
far from his house, against his parents' interdictions. It had always worried
him at first, that they should find out. His father would've had kittens, and
his mother...well, it'd be best not to dwell on that. But, as time wore on, he
came to like these little times by himself, away from the restrictions of home.
Of course, it also put him in a very vulnerable position, but he'd never
worried. Tonight, he realized he should have.
Tonight, he was paying the price.
He cried out as punch after iron-like punch pounded into him relentlessly. He
was at the limits of his strength, ready to collapse. The figure, which he
couldn't make out in the gloom, didn't seem to be even winded. Staggering, he
tried to turn and run, but received a tremendous blow to the back. He screamed,
the pain lacing and streaming throught his body. He heard another crack, and his
legs failed under him. He fell, and found out that he couldn't move his legs at
all. The realization caused him to go into a full-blown panic.
NONONO MY BACK GOD HE BROKE MY BACK HE'S GONNA KILL ME GOD HE BROKE MY BACK...
went through his head as he tried desperately to crawl, run scramble, anything
just to get away from there.
"Yeah, I'm going to kill you. So try to take death with a bit of pride." said a
coldly amused voice matter-of-factly.
Saying so, the figure kicked him again. He gasped as fresh pain came to him.
Still, in the back of his mind, something told him he knew that voice. But whose
was it?
"You're so pathetic..." said the voice, stepping towards him. Frank tried to
crawl, but finally stopped with a sob. He then let go completely, letting go of
hope and life. Then, in a flash, his mind placed the voice.
"You! I know you!" he shouted desperately. Another kick silenced him painfully.
"Yes. It won't change the outcome." was the indifferent reply.
Frank knew that. He also knew he was dead. But, still, he tried to stall it as
long as he could.
"B-but why? Why do you want to kill me?" he asked throught clenched teeth.
The figure stopped, seemed to hesitate. A faint hope stirred in the crippled
youth. However, it was quickly dashed as the figure - one he now knew - raised
his fett above Frank's head.
"That's a good one, you know." said the voice, as if considering the matter
profoundly. "Why would I kill you?" And then, just before the foot came down to
crush the life out of Frank Hammerbound, twelve-year old youth who had an
unfortunate streak of desobedience, the answer, cold and definite, was heard.
"Whyever not?"
* * * * *
Later that evening...
"If you don't wake up, Jer, I'm going to get you to the nearest clinic, even if
I have to carry you all the way there!"
The frustrated but worried voice cut throught Jeremy's blackness. He opened his
eyes, blinked at the light, and finally focused on the tense and worried face of
Thomas Storm. His answer was quick and typical.
"Ohh man. You can't ba an angel, it'd be too lame." he said
"I'll take that as a 'I'm okay'." said Tom.
Jeremy nodded. The pain was alomst gone. Obviously what he had gone throught was
over. He started when he discovered he was lying in the entry way, not the
sitting room.
"How did I get here?" he asked, bewildered.
"You were sleepwalking. I really freaked out when I saw you. After tonight..."
he stopped, and Jeremy knew something was up.
"What? What happened tonight?"
"Well...I wanted to wait until you were better but...Claudia gave this call
and...well, you know..."
"Just spit it out, Tom!" snapped Jeremy. The freaking experience of the evening
wasn't putting him in a good mood.
Tom grimaced. "Ah...well, you know that guy who stays near Claudia's? You know,
the nature-lover or such?"
"Yeah...Frank or Francis, right?"
"Bingo. Well, he's dead...beaten to death."
"What?"
"Yep. an old man found him. He'd been dragged out of the woods an on the walkway
in front of his house." his voice was grim. "Claudia called here. She was
freaked. After a while, I went to get you. That's when I saw you roaming
outside."
"S***."
"You bet. Well, nothing we can do about it, except hope the police'll get the
*ssh*le."
"Mom would wup you to tomorrow if she heard that expression from you."
"What can I say? He is an *ssh*le."
Jeremy groaned. "Well, I'll talk to her tomorrow. I'm too beat."
"You look that, alright. What did you do?"
"Something I won't try again for a long time." Jeremy stated earnestly.
Thomas nodded. "Well, I don't have much to do. Might as well do the same."
Jeremy had started ascending the stairs, but stopped. "What about the play at
school."
"Claudia called it off after this."
"Uhn. Lucky you, bro."
"Yeah, lucky me."
But althought the two young fighters spoke those words, one would have been
hard-pressed to find anything else then soberness in their expressions. It just
wasn't the kind of luck people usually enjoyed.
net2phone
undefined
More...
[Close]
[Close]
undefined
