Will and Fate
By Jeremy
Chapter 5
January 4, 1995
It was four days before the Senior League Karate Tournament, and Jeremy didn't feel like practicing. In fact, he pretty much didn't want to move at all. The reason was a common flu. A very annoying, incredibly strong, stubborn common flu. Result, a sixteen-year old martial arts expert had been transformed into a grumpy and tired teenager of the most ordinary mettle. After all, colds couldn't have cared less if he was THE favorite to winning the newest tournament. And one decided that, after all, a bit of normalcy might be good for the man. Otherwise, Jeremy might have thought himself better than others.
Well, not really. But, to him, it really seemed like a personal attack and he wasn't taking it very well. Mattew knew it when he came up, carrying some hot soup Samantha had ordered - what were the words - "that whinny little kid" to chug down whether he wanted it or not. Thus, the elder man's situation was set.
Mattew knocked on the closed door. Nothing stirred. A weary sigh escaped the grey-haired martial artist. Why were sick youths so difficult to deal with. He knocked again. This time there was a stir, and the sentence "Just lebbe alode do die id peace!" Accurately translating the sentence, Mattew chuckled and entered. Sure enough, in the middle of a not-so-tidy room was a bed on which dwelled a cocoon made of tangled sheets and irate street fighter wannabes. He set the soup on the study table and turning around, administered a soft, playful kick to the prone bundle. The effect was immediate. There was a yelp, and a brown-haired, sick face poked out of one end, glaring at him with puffy eyes.
"You just have to have your fun with defenseless, sick people, huh uncle?" was the irritated growl. Irritation tended to make Jeremy's nose better, allowing him his full voice.
"You're neither as defenseless nor as sick as you're saying you are. Now be a good boy and eat the soup Samantha just made, or else." A smile at that. Jeremy raised his eyebrows.
"Else?"
"Else you'll go down on the very suicidal purpose of telling your aunt you don't want to eat it. Death by strangulation is rumored to be painful and stiff. But anyway, if you want to find out..." Mattew trailed away, spreading his arms, his eyes twinkling.
Tired as he was, Jeremy couldn't help but snort, which quickly transformed into a sneeze. Fighting to breathe again, he gestured in surrender. "I'll eat it up. I'b too young do die. Sadists." He moved himself to a sitting position. "Sorry if I'b so grubpy. Just that the tibing is a-a-A-ATCHOO-snif-atrocious, to say the least." He took the steaming bowl and began to eat up.
Mattew shrugged. "Bah! In four days, you'll be fine. A little stiff maybe, but then, you've gone to do a few things with a worse handicap, am I right." A noncommital sound was all the answer he had to that one. "Come on, now. You've matched yourself with the best opponents your age you could find since last year, and you've got a long trail of victories behind you. So cheer up a little."
"I could," he said, the soup obviously doing wonders for his stuffy nose, "if I didn't know many of those victories were pretty narrow, and that'll face the best karate people in the region."
"Yes, well, had you used a good Eagle Strike or even one of those Flare Claws your grandpa showed you a while ago..."
"No!" Jeremy half-shouted, thencoughed as his body reminded him it wasn't up to speed yet. "I'm no using any chi-based attack unless I'm in terrible danger or my opponent shows definite signs of having the same edge as me." he finished more quietly.
"I know, I know." soothed Mattew gravely. "And I agree with you, boy. I really do. My point is just that you're already a step higher than most, and you're still climbing. Heh, you're roughly my level now, and before you're seventeen I think you'll be higher. So don't worry! Unless you meet someone exceptional - and I'm not saying you won't but still, it'd be quite the coincidence - most of the opponents you'll face will be well-trained youths, yes, but not as dangerous as some of the street kids you've been messing around with."
"You and dad used to 'mess' around with street kids at my age. Grandpa told me that himself."
Mattew looked a little embarassed at that, but decided to forge ahead. "Harrumph! My point being - stop worrying so needlessly. You win, you win. You lose, you lose. Nothing's simpler."
"Oh yeah? Melissa'll be there, Claudia'll be there. Even Alex has showed up for this! Now I know I'm better than many of those but the best among them'll be trouble! And if I'm stiff and fatigued, I'll really lose. I think that's why dear Tom's coming too. He's wishing me to lose...badly." he finished acidely, discarding the now-finished bowl of soup.
The elder man frowned in disapproval. "Now, there, Jeremy. I think you're overreacting with Tom..." he went no further as a bitter chuckle stopped him. Jeremy laid back and stared at the ceiling then, silently. No noise was heard from the two for a long moment.
"He does want that." he sighed. "He's wanted it since he had the hare-brained idea Tom challenge me publicly."
Mattew couldn't help but wince slightly as he painfully recalled the incident. Not that he had been there. No, Jeremy and Thomas told him, each in their own way, and a quiet talk with Melissa and Claudia had gleaned up the blank spots. According to the global account, Jeremy and Melissa were flirting slightly with each other at school, when Tom had come barging in, and told Jeremy in front of half a cafeteria that he wasn't a true fighter where it counted, at heart. Even now, no one could really explain what had possessed his son. Still, it had started an argument that had ended up with a challenge from Tom that they fought each other to prove their views. It was clear from both Jeremy and Melissa's accounts that the smaller Storm thought the whole thing ridiculous. But, publicly, he found he couldn't back down. The fight was set for after school.
The time came. So did Tom, Jeremy and half the school. After exchanging some formalities, the fight had started. Barely a minute later, it was over. Tom laid dazed on the ground, bruised, while Jeremy was just walking away, a little shamefully, with no marks to show for his trouble. According to Claudia, who knew from both friend and boyfriend details of a fight, Jeremy had had the upper hand from the beginning, showing an uncanny speed and amazing reflexes. Tom supposedly got barely half a dozen kicks and punches in, which had been partially deflected as to render them all but useless. Tom, on the other hand, had been hard-pressed to keep up his defense as a flurry of well-honed fists and feet battered him, finding their mark more often than not. It was no wonder he had collapsed so soon.
Mattew sighed. Thinking about this thing, this rift of bitterness that grew between his son and the one who was his son in all but blood, really saddened him. The two were barely on talking terms now, each but a step away from open hostility. No, no. Since that fight, only Jeremy was still refraining from being hostile. And there was nothing he could do. How it sickened him with grief.
The melancolic moment was broken when a small ball of energy zoomed into the room, carrying with it laughter and innocence. It stopped in front of him and there stood Mary-Ann Storm, his two year old daughter. A spitting image of her mother, she possessed brown curls and vibrant eyes decorating a round, happy face. The only thing she had inherited from him was the rather hawkish nose all Storms seemed to have to an extent.
"Jer! Mommy said you eat or she come!" she chirped gaily in the shrill voice of babies, unaware that what she had relayed was threat.
Jeremy laughed at that. "Countries should send ultimatums via springballs like you. There'd never be wars! Tell mommy that I ate the soup, okay?"
"'Kay! You more sick? Wanna teddy for sleep?" she inquired, her face showing the innocence that had made her loved and spoiled by the other four members of the family.
"Nah! I'll be alright!" her face went down a bit and Jeremy visibly backtracked rapidly. "I'm sure the teddy's more happy with you. I'm way too big, now. There's no place for him."
Her little face lighted again, and she turned to Mattew with all the seriousness that a two-year old could manage. It was all the elder man could do not to laugh. He had never thought having her was a mistake, but at times like these she was a true blessing - the innocence all of them had lost either long ago or a while ago.
"Daddy, mommy said she'd spank you if you don't go down to eat with her." she said solemnly. She really looked as if she had given something very serious and dire to her father, not an inside joke that had been running between the two for as long as they had been married. But althought he was able to refrain from laughter, Jeremy was unable to do so completely. A short laugh escaped him, which he tried to cover with a cough. Which was, of course, the worst thing he could have gone, as his weakened lungs nearly cut off, strangling him. The teenager finally hid his head in his pillow, his shoulders quivering with silent laughter. Mary-Ann looked at him worriedly.
"Are you crying, Jer?" she asked worriedly. She seemed to want to comfort him, and went to pat his muscled shoulder seriously. "Don't cry. I'm sure mommy won't spank daddy."
And that was it. Jer finally burst forth in guffaws, tear-eyed, trying to control his breathing. Even Mattew couldn't help but chuckling at the innocent antics of his youngest child. He went and took a the confused two year old in his arms. "I think Jer will be just fine, honey. Let's be off and see mom. Are you okay, Jeremy?"
The youth had retreated under his sheets, which rattled because of the mirth the sick young man was trying to suppress. "Glg....yeah....prfhehe...w-whatever. Get heh-her out before she kills me with another line like that." wafted from the bundle. Mattew smiled. He took the empty bowl with him and left, closing the door behind him. Chuckles he could still hear from the other side of the door. He shook his head as he descended the stairs.
In his arms, the little girl was completely lost. "I said a wrong thing, daddy?"
Mattew smiled widely. "No, my little golden heart. You just did something very right for him. Very right indeed." He's been so needing to laugh lately.
* * * * * * * * * *
Two days later...
Corporal Steve Hemmerson didn't like the job he'd been given. In fact, he really loathed it. Of course, he had never said so. Never complained. Not a peep, not a word. Protests just weren't part of his character. When he had a job given to him, he saw it throught no matter what happened. It was that kind of attitude that made him so grudgingly admired by other soldiers and so appreciated by the higher-ups. But he could still find jobs lame, and he found that one as lame as any he'd ever seen.
What kind of job is that anyway, to go see a damn tournament just because of of them has skills that the commanders seem to find useful. he thought rather bitterly. What am I supposed to do, go up to him and make a psychological profile of the guy? I'm a soldier, a fighter. Not some...some shrink, dammit! Oh man, couldn't they have sent some else?!? Mark, or Cindy, they'd have liked it! But no, it had to be me. And just because I am a fighter, it seems.
Hemmerson chided himself for such childish thoughts - thoughts he'd been having ever since that particular job had been given. Major Brisby had been very adamant about it, something having to do with enlarging the Shadowcrusher Division. He sniffed. The damn UK Gouvernment should have enlarged it long before now, but petty politics had gotten in the way. Politics. Wasted words, wasted money and far too much wasted energy. That's what he thought of it. But everything ran by money and politics. Even MI6, even the SCD. It really sicknened him.
Shaking himself off such gloomy thoughts, he started to do his evening exercises, starting with two hundred push-ups - a light start, to warm his muscles. Then he'd start for real. Yeah, a good bit of sweating, that's what he needed. Not that he needed the exercice. At twenty-one, the youthful-faced soldier had been throught a lot. A lot of training, a lot of sweat and a damn good mouthful of danger. But that had only made him want to train more. And there he was, a walking heap of muscles of six feet, doing some more. He needed to get a life. After all, his other comrades seemed to have other hobbies besides training. Mark enjoyed riding motorcycles and hadn't as far as Hemmerson was concerned ever missed the occasion to play a good game of soccer. Cindy, well, Cindy had the hobby of swimming. She liked it so much many other soldiers had joked that she was a misplaced mermaid. Hell, even the Major seemed to have a craving for chess and rugby. And what where his hobbies. The very same thing he always had had: training. No wonder the others felt he was so dull when off-duty.
The phone rang. Althought he swore he'd sooner die than admit it, he was actually glad to be not doing his workout. He stood up and went to pick it up.
"Hello." he said neutrally. And then he felt his listening ear nearly go deaf.
"Hey there, lad!" shrieked a high-pitched, jovial voice. "Having fun in the country of stars and stripes?!?"
Hemmerson was now holding the phone at a distance, his hears still ringing. He recognized the voice: anyone who heard the voice of Mark Culhen, with its thick scottish accent and its astounding high pitch never forgot it. Ever. He placed his mouth nearer the phone, but kept his ear away. A strange position, an awkward one, but the only one that could allow them to have a true conversation.
"Yeah, Mark, I'm just peachy." he stated. He wasn't even angry at his comrade. That was just the way the scot was. "Bored to death, but peachy."
"Aye, I had that impression. Annoying, don't ye think, not having enought heads to break? Can't really do that in a quiet little region, aye?" The tone was definitely mocking, but Hemmerson refused to rise to the bait. He wasn't in the mood to cross verbal swords.
"Mark, have you got any good reason to make this rather expensive long-distance call?"
"Ye mean besides wanting to let ye hear my marvelous voice?" This time there was a not of glee behing the words Despite himself, the tall man chuckled at the other's antics.
"Yeah, " he said with a quaver in his voice, trying to still the chuckles. "Besides that oh-so missed voice of yours."
"Down to the dirt with it, hmm? Fine, here's the dirt." His tone took on a rather conspirational air. "Ye know 'bout the project ol' Colonel Wolfman has going with Brisby?"
"You mean about recruiting new members?"
"Aye, Stevie, just that. Well, seems Wolfman got those government coinhounds kicking. He's looking for new recruits. And ye're lad is right on top of it!"
"WHAT!" He couldn't be quiet with this. That news and the implications were too much for even his usual stoicism to take. "That KID? They want to enroll this kid into the MI6?!? Are Wolfman and Brisby gone potty?!?"
"Hush, lad! First, they want it in our own SDC, ye know, not just the MI6."
"Why, thats completely..." Hemmerson started hotly, but was cut off.
"Now hold on! Ye've never seen that kid, like ye call him, fight. I have and Brisby did too. The laddie's impressive, Stevie. VERY impressive, if ye catch my drift. And we'll need guys like him pretty soon."
That sobered Hemmerson up. "Why?"
This time there was cold seriousness in the scottish voice, a voice that belongued to a very formidable soldier in his own right. People sometimes forgot Mark was a tempered elite soldier. Until they heard that voice.
"Aye, lad. Remember that hot gal from the Recon Division? Ye know, the one Wolfman was always fighting to get."
Hemmerson nodded. Realising that his companion couldn't see the gesture, he verbalized quickly. "Yeah, sure. How could I forget? Cammy White. A stunner and a VERY capable fighter. What about her? Didn't her unit vanish without a trace?"
"Right on the money, lad! Well, got news from her, at least. Been spotted by a CIA Agent a week ago. Killed an industrialist who, amongst other things, had been a declared enemy of, guess who?" His tone told it all.
"No way...not Shadowlaw..." Hemmerson murmured in disbelief. He must have been heard, for he heard a sigh on the other side of the line.
"Yep, our gal's workin' fer the Shadowlaw bastards now. Wolfman thinks that its not of her own free will though. Which means brainwashing. Now do ye see my point? With people like her on their side, we'll need people like him on ours." The glee returned to his voice. "But we need to test him first before offering the job. And ye're going to love this part."
Mark explained the rest of the plan. As he spoke, a smile, a very predatorial smile appeared on Hemmerson's face, and a light of eagerness in his eyes. When he spoke again, it was with more pleasure than he had since leaving Britain.
"You know what, Mark? This might be a worthwhile trip after all."
"I knew ye'd like it, lad. Just knew it." And both men laughed lightly.
* * * * * * * * * *
Two days later...
Alex Strongfort, despite his six feet and a half of height and two hundred and sixty pound body - the majority of which being muscle - felt extremely queasy and vulnerable. It wasn't that the place was dangerous. After all, the place he stood in had been built to heal, so the danger was really nil. But it was an hospital. And he had always hated hospitals. Because some of the people here had something they coouldn't fight at all, something that would kill them sometimes far before their time. And nothing was worse to a fighter like him than something you couldn't fight. And this room was even worse than the rest of the place in general. For this was where Nathan McIntyre, a young man he had come over the years to consider a friend, reposed in a coma.
The huge man of eighteen looked from the small window of the room to the bed, a little look that immediately made him wince. Everytime he looked at the bed, the mental image of Nate appeared: of very average height, slight of stature and useless as far as anything physical was concerned, but possessed of great intelligence and a will to help others whatever the cost to himself. He hadn't met many people who'd lose the major part of a weekend to help a friend get up to date with homework. Yet Nate did with Claudia, without a word or a condition. It was also a youth who had showed him the best places to find training equipment and the best places to train or jog or whatever he wanted to do. No, Nathan definitely wasn't him. Or Jeremy. Or Claudia. Or even Thomas. His expression flickered with bitterness. Especially not Thomas. And now he was like this.
The bones that had broken had been set, the contusions and wounds cleaned and stiched up. Even then, the doctors had told distraught parents and friends that the wounds on the right side of his face would likely scar, and that there was a strong possibility that his left leg would be unable to support him completely. He'd have to live with a scarred face, a pronounced limp and a cane for the rest of his life. That had made them all furious enough. But at least they knew that he could live with it. Live with it and thrive. Nate just wasn't the kind of man to give up because of physical obstacles. If he woke up.
Which, thus far, he hadn't.
Now, as days went by, Nate's body was slowly deteriorating, slowly becoming little more than a scarred, mangled corpse that clung to life. Unable to take it anymore, Alex turned back to look out the window again.
Next to the rather oblivious young man, Claudia was babbling away, telling the slumberer everything that had happened up until now. It was something that his girlfriend had taken to doing, and that Jeremy participated to at the times when he went along with her. They just talk about all the little and big things that had happened to them since the last time they had come to the room, trivial things that, as far as Alex was concerned, rang upon deaf ears, no matter the mumbo-jumbo psychologists spat around. In any case, he was absolutely unable to speak with someone who was out so badly nothing existed on the outside. So the big man could understand what his friends were doing and up to a point he respected it. He just thought it all rather futile.
At the fast and lively rate Claudia was speaking, she didn't believe the same thing as him at all.
"You know that Jer's going to another tournament today?" she was saying in earnest Yeah, we're going to go see him right after this. You know, he's gotten so good lately, he might just be the champion this time! And no, Tom's not gonna participate - he's been banned from those things, remember? Anyway, I'm not sure anyone wants him around now. He's pretty scary, especially after Jer just busted him aside the other day." Her tone took on a rather conspirational level. Alex almost snorted at that. "And I think its pretty sad, you know. Those two barely talk to each other anymore, and they used to hang around like brothers. But now..." she trailed off, not knowing how to say the rest.
The big man couldn't really understand that last part completely. Having never known Tom when he was younger, he had only the last two years to make any kind of judgement. And during that time, as much as he had come to like Jer as a friend, he also came to despise Tom. Sometimes he wondered why. Maybe it was because, for all his conceit and inner arrogance, Jeremy clung to firm ethics and good, reasonable beliefs, while Tom simply showed his skills and let nothing stand in his way, no matter who got hurt. Yes, it might be that. But, still, he felt there was something more, something at the back of his head that made the difference between the two teens. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. Psychology just wasn't his forte. He looked at his watch blearily. Then did a rather fantastic double-take. He approached the girl and bent quickly.
"Sorry about that." he said hastily. "But the tournament's already started! Come on!" He tugged at her slightly. Claudia gave him a frustrated look and sighed. She turned to the comatose teen.
"Sorry, Nate. Gotta go. I'll get Jer to tell you how it all went! See ya!" With that she got up, and they both left the room.
Once they were outside, however, she stopped cold and whirled so fast that Alex actually backtracked in order to to slam into her. She looked at him with a more-than-slightly angry eyes as he fidgeted and scratched his head. This girl, who only went to his chest as far as height was concerned, was the only female he had ever met who could make him feel little. Her gaze was so willful he was rather surprised she wasn't burning throught him.
"That was way rude, Alex." she stated. He stopped fidgeting, his mind nearly freezing as it processed that last tidbit.
"Come again?" he asked, bewildered.
"I said it was rude, leaving him like that. And all for some stupid tournament..."
"Now hold on, here!" he protested. She ignored him.
"...that we know Jer's gonna win anyway!" she finished.
Since the beginning of this ridiculous situation, Alex had been fighting between anger and astonishment. Anger rapidly won that battle.
"Now what do you mean? You think its better to stay here and babble away at a guy who's so fucking out of it he's certainly not gonna care about what you say, rather than go see a live friend doing something he's wanted to do for quite some time?!?" He hadn't chosen his words very well, he knew. As a matter of fact, he didn't think he could have made it sound worse, and he kicked himself numerous times inwardly as a result. But the damage had been done. Claudia's eyes clouded for a moment in grief and hurt, then the anger returned, magnified ten times.
"Why, you big...! Its my oldest friend you've just depreciated like that, you jerk!" she shouted.
He took a step toward her, his face tightening. "Its not him I'm having a problem with right now!" he fairly bellowed. "Its with you and your damn way of judging actions!"
"Well, if you...!" she began.
"THAT'S ENOUGHT!!"
Both turned to see a red-faced, grey-haired man in a doctor's garb, glaring at the two. After he had their attention, his tone became even, but his eyes flashed nonetheless.
"Now, I don't know what you children are thinking." he said, his voice soft but sharp. "But may I remind the two of you that this is an hospital? That there are people here who are sick enought without having to hear a shouting match? Now I'm going to ask the two of you to go. Immediately. And if you don't, I'll have security remove you."
Alex turned crimson in shame as he realized what he had been doing and, from what he caught at the corner of his sight, Claudia felt just as sheepish. He quickly pulled himself together and bowed slightly to the fuming physician.
"That will not be necessary, doctor. We will leave immediately."
"Yeah. Sorry."
The both moved away, feeling the burning gaze of the old doctor following them, as well as the disapproving eyes of more than one person who had seen or heard the exchange. It was only when they were in an empty elevator, and that the door had closed, that they breathed a sigh of relief. Then an uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally Alex couldn't stand it.
"I'm sorry." he began uncertainly. "I...I didn't mean to say Nate meant nothing. Its just that...well...hospitals and me..."
"I know." she interrupted softly but with more firmness than he showed or felt. "I'm sorry too. I'm just so scared that he's never gonna..." she trailed off.
Alex found himself shaking his head. "He'll awaken, you know." he turned to look at her in the eyes. "That guy's not tough physically, maybe, but he's got a pretty strong mind. He'll awaken. I believe it. I know his parents and Jeremy do. So should you."
"I know. And I believe it too. Its just been...so long." suddenly her mouth quirked upward. "We deserved the old man's scolding didn't we?"
"Did we ever!" he chuckled. "I was surprised he didn't boot us out himself." That both enjoyed a slight, sheepish laugh at that, and it was that way, a bit uncomfortable but reconciled, that the two left the hospital and took Alex's car to see another friend.
* * * * * * * * * *
Five minutes later...
On an hospital bed, Nathan McIntyre lay motionless, surrounded by the silence now that he had been left alone. None could have ever told if the young, decrepit man was alive at all, but for the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the slow beeping of the machine that indicated his heart was still beating.
But then, had one watched the motionless left hand, he would have gasped. For there was a slight twitch. Then a greater one. Then the hand moved feebly.
And a sound escaped Nathan McIntyre's lips in the first time in many, many months.
* * * * * * * * * *
One hour later...
Jeremy Storm was relaxing, battered and somewhat still feeling stiff as an after-effect of his cold, but overally exultant. He was winning this. Thus far, he'd fought his way up to the finale with little problems, surprising himself, his uncle and just about everyone in the place. But, as he had fought decidedly fair in all of his fights, he'd received more approving stare than negative ones. Next to him, Melissa sat, a little ill at ease in this place where she really, he knew, didn't feel she belonged, while his uncle was congratulating him on his last match.
"Well done, boy! I see you've mastered all of the techniques flawlessly. It seems your grandpa's been showing you some subtle moves, too. In all the way, you've done well. Especially with that Castillo girl."
In the quarter-finale, he had ironically come against Hilda Castillo, the girl Thomas had nearly maimed the last time the two cousins had participated. She had obviously not only recovered, but greatly improved, and in fact had been harder to defeat than the semi-finalist he had come against. Fortunately for him, although she was faster than him his techniques were more refined and he had managed to use his greater reach and strength to gradually overpower her. He had finally, after many attcks and feints, swept her feet from under her, winning the match and the round. It had felt good to him, being able to show her that his family knew how to fight fair. But he had to admit, it felt even better to win.
But something suddenly sobered him. The other finalist. He too, had breezed past his fights with astounding vigor and skills. No one knew that person: he had appeared out of nowhere to fight at this tournament. Maybe he had had the intention to prove himself, like Jeremy himself? Somehow, it didn't fit. It was too...too sudden.
Melissa, of course, immediately felt that something was wrong. "What is it, Jer? Something bothering you?"
He took a moment before replying. Did it really bother him, to have someone who seemed to be an ample equal of his? As he reflected on it, he found that it didn't. He was just annoyed that such a big obstacle had come between himself and the last test he had set himself, winning the tournament.
"Not really." he said after a moment. "Just trying to forget I won all that."
"But why?"
"Because if I think like that, the guy I'm about to fight won't even break a sweat. Better to act as if this was my first fight, with all the caution that comes with it."
Mattew nodded. "You grandfather's lessons were well-learned, I see. That's a very good way to think." he sighed. "All the same, I would've liked it if Thomas had been able to come."
Jeremy shrugged. "Just as well, really. I don't think he'd stomach me winning this, just like I wouldn't stomach him seeing me lose. Better that way. Keeps the civility we have left intact." It was said sadly all the same. It was at that time that Melissa caught side of Alex and Claudia, hurrying towards them.
"Darn!" Alex swore as he came up. "We've missed all the fun!"
Jeremy laughed. "On the contrary, Alex, you ox! The fun is really just beginning!"
"Sorry about that, Jer. We were out visiting Nate at the hospital." said Claudia.
"Then you're forgiven, of course. I really think Nate's more important than my last show of craziness."
At that, Claudia gave Alex a triumphant look, while the big fighter harrumphed and looked a little upset. Jeremy really wondered what was up with those two. Evidently something had happened. But before he could pry some info, Melissa stepped in, and he had to let it go.
"Has there been any change?" she asked Claudia hopefully. The blonde's eyes immediately went aggrieved. She had her answer: no.
Mattew seemed to decide that all that was enough. "Have faith in him. He'll be all right. When the spirit's strong, the body will mend. And I know damn well Nathan has as strong a spirit as they come. Now stop this. He wouldn't want you to start getting all gloomy. You know him."
That shook everyone, but it was what was needed. They shrugged off the sadness they all felt, pushing it into the background, and resumed more casual conversation. Eventually Mattew left to chat with some of the organizers, Melissa and Claudia started a talk about the last movies they'd seen and Alex and Jeremy, after talking a few minutes about the troubles the big man was having with his car, turned their conversation toward the rival finalist.
"You're right. He's way not like the others." mused Alex.
"Yeah. He's used his skills before. A lot."
"The way he's walking around? Sure. And he's made some ennemies, too, the way he seems to be ready for a fight to start, anywhere."
"Yep." Jeremy grinned. "This is something I've always wanted you know. A martial artist that could be able to defeat me. I'm looking forward to this."
"Not worried?"
"You bet I'm worried! Worried to lose! And that guy's exactly the type of person to justify that worry."
As they discussed this, they heard someone say that the final rounds would begin in five minutes. The two friends exchanged a look and Alex clasped the smaller teen on the shoulder, silently wishing him good luck. Jeremy gave him a smile, than started to stretch his muscles in preparation for the fight.
"I really hope you're worth all that." said a voice. Jeremy immediately turned around, surprised. This guy had managed to approach him without being felt! He pushed the rating he had given this guy up a few notch and returned his stare evenly.
"I'll try." he stated, althought he didn't know what he was supposed to be worth. Not that it mattered. "May we have a good fight." he added.
The other man smiled. How old was he? Eighteen? Twenty? More? Hard to tell.
"I hope so too." he said, and walked away.
Jeremy watched him go, thinking Yep, this is going to be one the people here are gonna remember, if this guy has his way.
And he was so looking forward to all of this.
* * * * * * * * * *
At the same moment...
Where am I?
That was the very first thought that Nathan uttered as he came to conciousness. The fog in his mind was so dense, however, that it was some time before he had enough wits gathered about him to elucidate such a simple mystery. He glanced about in complete confusion, taking in the sterile room, the instruments, before he finally made it to its rightful conclusion.
Ah, an hospital. Got it bad, t'seems. But what did...did I get exactly? And how?
His memory was only a garble of images and sensations, unable to answer him. However, he worked to assert all he could on making sense of them.
Alley...pain...fear...darkness...people...noise...a face, in the darkness. Twisted face, hateful, demented face...the face of...of...
Then the memories clicked together, and it started to come back to him. And with it, came back fear and horror. He tried to jerk his body to a sitting position, found he could barely move. How long had he been out, anyway?
Not too long, hopefully, he thought, glad at least to find his mind intact. Because if I was, a lot of really bad things have happened. Things I wanted to prevent on my own, like a damn fool. Gotta tell the others, this time. Get...get Claudia and, and Jer.
He tried to move his arm, found that he could althought it felt like it weighted a ton. Damn this weakened body! After a excruciatingly long time, he managed to call for a nurse. Once he had done so, he laid back and relaxed a little. And started to make plans.
Gotta tell them. Gotta make them believe me. Before more of this happens.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later...
Steve Hemmerson had entered the fight with caution but also an underlying current of utter confidence. Now, as he blocked another surprisingly quick attack, he found that he still felt confident. But not as utterly.
To say that this kid was good would have meant little. Those he had fought in this little - but so refreshing - tournament had all been qualified young people, all quite a degree better than the average. They where the best where they came from and it showed. Only that kid had been different. He hid things, held back something that would probably have made him the winner of all his matches even faster than he had actually won them. He had thought that he had gauged this inner strength adequately, however.
He had never been really good at gauging strength. Mark was. Mark had told him. He hadn't listened. Now he was paying for not doing just that. The boy was fast, extremely, fast, and had definitely honed his reflexes as high as he could get them. He also put a greater whallop than one could have thought looking at his body and size. All in all, he was perhaps the greatest challenge of that age range Hemmerson had ever faced.
Fighting off a combo of punches, he found an opening at last, and uppercutted the boy, following up with a swift kick to the solar plexus. The boy stumbled backward, and he side-stepped and let loose a back-kick using all of his strength. Then, just as he made his move, the teen straightened and brought his hands up. Realizing the trap, the undercover agent tried to halt his action, but it was far too late. The lad caught his foot and heaved him backward, and he crashed on his ass rather unceremoniously.
It was at that time that Hemmerson finally got fed up with this even match. Flipping back to his feet, he charged toward his opponent, who assumed a defensive stance. As he charged, he concentrated his strength into his hand, letting it loose upon the teen. The defense caved in faced with that little technique, which had been dubbed the Bomb by fellow MI6 Agent Cindy Morella. The boy litterally flew backward, barely managing to stay inside the fighting circle. The boy managed to get back on his feet, while the judges afforded Steve one more point. Hemmerson almost smiled. As good as this kid was, he was about to lose this round. He saw the other one fix him with a slightly glazed gaze, and wondered if the kid was thinking about the very same thing. However, it was time to wrap this up. He charged as soon as the referee gave his okay.
As he neared his opponent, the kid stretched his hand, palm out, towards him, his fingers like claws. He saw the boy's lips form words, and a weird hue appeared around the palm and fingers. Hemmerson froze as he realized what this was. He'd seen it before, a very few times. His instant of freezing, however, was his undoing, as he didn't dodge at the only moment he could. He felt slammed by an unseen force, greater than five strong blows, and couldn't help but stagger away. As he did, his defense opened completely. He didn't have time to close it up before he was kicked in the stomach, then slammed away by the teen's body. He recovered at last, blocking the blows and returning them. Thinking to bring himself some breathing space, he managed to fling the boy away, stepping back two steps.
As he did so, the teen let up his defense completely. Bewildered, Hemmerson wondered what the problem was. The teen shrugged tiredly and pointed downward, at the agent's feet. It was thus that he saw it at the same time he heard it.
"RING OUT! WINNER, JEREMY STORM OF KYOKUSHIN KARATE! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!"
As the crowd applauded, he could only stare at the line he had crossed while stepping backward in his haste, the line the was the edge of the fighting circle. The attacks had pushed him away more than he had thought. At first, he felt humiliated at the loss, and more than a little angry. It wasn't often that someone outmaneuvered him like that. Then anger turned to amusement and grudging respect. Mark, as always, had been right. This might just be a perfect match with the rest of the SCD. He sure had more than enought strength, and a good deal of tactical imagination. As for the rest of the requirements, Mark probably wouldn't have set him up for this particular workout if the kid wasn't in the green all the way. All that remained was to make the formal offer.
He shook his head and walked over to give his opponent an handshake. As he did, he saw that at least the teen had been to his limits. In a real fight, Hemmerson would certainly have won, even if he had been battered. Still, the boy did show a LOT of promise.
"Not bad, kid." he said. "You sure got some tricks up you're sleeve."
"The same to you. You're one hell of a fighter." said the teen with a very tired smile.
Hemmerson nodded, then decided it was best to drop the bomb. "Hum...could we have a talk after you're congratulated aplenty? I've got some stuff to tell you."
The boy's brows arched in curiosity. "Stuff like?"
He shook his head. "Can't tell you that here. But its pretty important."
The teen looked at him with intelligent grey eyes, gauging him all over again. The intensity of the gaze got the kid up another notch in the agent's book. He appreciated strong wills. At last he received a slow nod.
"Okay. I'll be there in ten minutes. At the east entrance?"
"Fine."
"Okay, then." and with that he turned away and went to receive the paraise and the trophy that he felt - and, Hemmerson admitted, did - he deserved.
He shrugged. Winning this hadn't been his purpose, after all. It was just as well that the one receiving all the praise was really the one who had worked for it. With the stealth that had kept him alive in many encounters, Hemmerson left the area, blending back into the background without anyone being the wiser.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later...
Claudia couldn't believe that anyone could both look so happy and yet so tired. However, that was what her friend was being right now, walking with a slight shiver from exhaustion but also with a grin that threatened to split his skull in half. He was walking with the trophy, having received the heartfelt congratulations of the former champion and of his uncle and the envy of many others. Before he could speak, however, Alex reached out and slapped him on the shoulders.
"Well, well!! Congrats! Now we're both champs in our fields! Now we can beat up each other on equal ground!" laughed the huge young man.
"Yeah, well, not today, pal!" retorted Jeremy as he rubbed the slapped - and therefore, bruised - shoulder. "All I want after that is a bath and sleep for two days."
"Really? Just sleep?" purred Melissa, stepping towards him. He looked at her and smiled a little lecherously.
"Well, maybe not just sleeping. I'm sure I'd have time for other distractions." Saying that, he pushed the trophy into Alex's hands and went to give the brunette a passionate kiss. Claudia shook her head at the mention of sex. Like they'd do it. She didn't really know why, but those two were nearly a bunch of monks towards sexual matters. They seemed to shy away from things deeper than kisses and hugs. Claudia smiled secretely to herself. Not like Alex and she. Between him and she, the first time was long past, and they had actually gotten comfortable with the concept. But Melissa and Jer, that was another story.
Bah. It wasn't her business, and she'd sooner shave her head than pester good friends on things they seemed unready for. They'd just have to go at this when they wanted to, without people pushing.
Her train of thought was broken as Jeremy released his girlfriend, slapping his head. "Oh yeah, almost forgot!" he exclaimed.
"Forgot what?" asked Alex. All three looked at the new champion expectantly.
"Oh, not much. Promised to have a chat with the other finalist. Shouldn't be long." he kissed Melissa again. "Be back soon!"
"You'd better, or I'm asking Alex to go kick you back here!"
"And far be it for me to refuse a lady's request." answered the giant in an over-polite tone, grinning. They all laughed.
"Then I'll REALLY try to cut it short. See ya soon!" and with that he sped off as fast as he could. The others just looked at him for a moment. Then Melissa turned to them in curiosity.
"Why do you think that guy wants to talk to him?"
Alex shrugged. "Who knows? We'll find out soon, anyway. If we're lucky, maybe the guy would spar with us. He's very good."
At that moment, something beeped. Two pairs of eyes fixed Claudia, who looked slightly embarassed as she dug out her cellular phone.
"Hello? Yes, this is Claudia. I...miss McIntyre! What is it...yes. Yes he's near. Yeah I can go get him too, but...huh?!?"
And the place litterally shook when the next word was uttered.
"REALLY!?!?!"
* * * * * * * * * *
10 minutes later...
Jeremy scratched his head as he tried to take in all that he had learned. Fact one: that guy, Steve something, was actually an MI6 agent. Fact two: He had been charged with doing the final testing on a very possible recruit. And fact three - the fact he actually liked the least: HE, Jeremy Storm, age sixteen, was that potential recruit. This all added up to a final note that he was completely bumped and clueless.
"O...kay." he managed. "You're part of MI6, and MI6 wants me, right?"
The other guy -Hemmerson, yeah, that was it - nodded. "Crude, but the main point is there, yes."
"Okay." he was really out of it with this. He thought about many possible questions, and finally settled on a very simple but useful one. "Why?"
Hemmerson seemed to have been waiting for this. He leaned against the wall and stared at the neon on the ceiling. "How to put this? You're school record put you amongst the five best of your class in all fields, which means you're not lacking in the intelligence departement. Other files tag you as imaginative, ethical and open-minded. Finally, and this is the most important point: you fight better than the average guy. Way better, I've seen that myself. Now that kind of strength, paired with an intelligent mind, is just what my division, the SCD, needs."
The teen who had just been named champion put up a hand. "Somethings weird. The MI6's Brit, aint it? How come you sound like an american." The other man smiled.
"That's easy. I'm not british. Nor an american. I'm canadian, actually. My division looks for quality work in all the nations in the British Commonwealth, Europe and the U.S, too."
"And how many are you?"
"Can't really tell you that, you know."
Jeremy nodded. He had expected that somehow, but had deemed it worthy of a try. So he tackled something else.
"You told me you guys fight terrorist groups. What groups."
Hemmerson hesitated, like it galled him to talk about that - which it might, for all he knew. "Different groups, but one has been and remains our main concern."
"Big fish?"
"Very big fish."
"And its called?" Jeremy inquired. The agent seemed to hesitate even more, which did nothing to ease the growing unease he was feeling. However, he seemed to come to a decision, and fixed Jeremy with an even stare.
"You might have heard of it. Its called Shadowlaw. Kind of fits with our Shadow Crusher nametag, huh?"
Jeremy barely heard that last part. Shadowlaw! Heard of it? Who hadn't? One of the richest, most influential terrorist groups in the world, dealing in everything that could be labelled as illegal. On the street, the fighters he saw spoke of it in whispers, talking about the inner circle of the organization, four enforcers especially: Balrog, Vega, and Sagat. All extremely powerful fighters, feared by all those he had encountered - especially the great Muy Thai Champion Sagat. But darker whispers hinted at someone infinitely more powerful than that fearsome three. A man cloaked in mystery and power. A man known only as Bison. Hearsay, of course, but it still gave him the shivers.
He finally faced Hemmerson. "You gotta be kidding me! Go against Shadowlaw?!? You gotta be suicidal to do that!"
"I know. I also know you're one of the few guys who can really oppose it."
"That's rid-"
"Also, its better you join us than be forced to join them."
That made him cold, the way that soldier said that last bit. He found that he both wanted and didn't want him to elaborate. Curiosity won, of course.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked worriedly.
The man's face was dead serious now. "You're strong, Storm. I've seen that. A few more years and you'll be quite something to see. Problem is they'll know that. And they'll want you. And if they find you - and they will - you'll have no choice: death or slavery."
"You're kidding!" he said, but it lacked strength. "If that's what they wanted to do, why didn't they go after my uncle -he's strong, and was even stronger back then or my own mother, who was rumored to be stronger?"
"Because at that time they were still setting up shop. Now, their expanding. And for that they need enforcers. Extremely powerful enforcers. People like you." he stepped toward Jeremy suddenly. "These bastards have destroyed so many and so much already. Interpol, the KGB, MI6, CIA and all those agencies, their doing their best. But we need all the help we can get, in the SCD, formed to fight Shadowlaw. Join us."
Jeremy was upset and confused. He needed more time with this. Time to think, to categorize - this was way to much to think at once. Shadowlaw...the SCD...terrorists...fighters...Bison... He shook his head to clear it.
"I...I need a bit of time to...to figure this one out. Please." he was nearly begging.
However, he was met with a nod of understanding. "Of course. Take your time. Just-" he stopped suddenly as they both heard steps. Fast steps. They tensed.
But it was only Claudia, who yelped when she saw him. "Finally! Man, you're an hard guy to find! Come on! We gotta go! Now!"
Still upset about his discussion with Hemmerson, Jeremy shook her off. "Where's the fire? What's going on? What-" Then she turned on him and glared, shutting him up. She then took possession of his arm again and pulled.
"Nate is awake! He wants to see you right this instant!" she told him excitedly.
Awash with surprise and a newfound joy, he didn't resist her at all when she pulled him again to follow her.
_______________________________________________________________________
Here it is! Sorry its been so long, exams and my personal life have been taking a lot of my time lately. Hope you enjoy it. If you got any ideas or just want to tell me what you think, just tell me people! I'd love to hear it.
Next chapter: An awakened Nathan gives Jeremy and Claudia astounding news. But what will come of it? Heartbreaks, betrayal and revelations come forth in chapter 6 of Will and Fate!
Jeremy
By Jeremy
Chapter 5
January 4, 1995
It was four days before the Senior League Karate Tournament, and Jeremy didn't feel like practicing. In fact, he pretty much didn't want to move at all. The reason was a common flu. A very annoying, incredibly strong, stubborn common flu. Result, a sixteen-year old martial arts expert had been transformed into a grumpy and tired teenager of the most ordinary mettle. After all, colds couldn't have cared less if he was THE favorite to winning the newest tournament. And one decided that, after all, a bit of normalcy might be good for the man. Otherwise, Jeremy might have thought himself better than others.
Well, not really. But, to him, it really seemed like a personal attack and he wasn't taking it very well. Mattew knew it when he came up, carrying some hot soup Samantha had ordered - what were the words - "that whinny little kid" to chug down whether he wanted it or not. Thus, the elder man's situation was set.
Mattew knocked on the closed door. Nothing stirred. A weary sigh escaped the grey-haired martial artist. Why were sick youths so difficult to deal with. He knocked again. This time there was a stir, and the sentence "Just lebbe alode do die id peace!" Accurately translating the sentence, Mattew chuckled and entered. Sure enough, in the middle of a not-so-tidy room was a bed on which dwelled a cocoon made of tangled sheets and irate street fighter wannabes. He set the soup on the study table and turning around, administered a soft, playful kick to the prone bundle. The effect was immediate. There was a yelp, and a brown-haired, sick face poked out of one end, glaring at him with puffy eyes.
"You just have to have your fun with defenseless, sick people, huh uncle?" was the irritated growl. Irritation tended to make Jeremy's nose better, allowing him his full voice.
"You're neither as defenseless nor as sick as you're saying you are. Now be a good boy and eat the soup Samantha just made, or else." A smile at that. Jeremy raised his eyebrows.
"Else?"
"Else you'll go down on the very suicidal purpose of telling your aunt you don't want to eat it. Death by strangulation is rumored to be painful and stiff. But anyway, if you want to find out..." Mattew trailed away, spreading his arms, his eyes twinkling.
Tired as he was, Jeremy couldn't help but snort, which quickly transformed into a sneeze. Fighting to breathe again, he gestured in surrender. "I'll eat it up. I'b too young do die. Sadists." He moved himself to a sitting position. "Sorry if I'b so grubpy. Just that the tibing is a-a-A-ATCHOO-snif-atrocious, to say the least." He took the steaming bowl and began to eat up.
Mattew shrugged. "Bah! In four days, you'll be fine. A little stiff maybe, but then, you've gone to do a few things with a worse handicap, am I right." A noncommital sound was all the answer he had to that one. "Come on, now. You've matched yourself with the best opponents your age you could find since last year, and you've got a long trail of victories behind you. So cheer up a little."
"I could," he said, the soup obviously doing wonders for his stuffy nose, "if I didn't know many of those victories were pretty narrow, and that'll face the best karate people in the region."
"Yes, well, had you used a good Eagle Strike or even one of those Flare Claws your grandpa showed you a while ago..."
"No!" Jeremy half-shouted, thencoughed as his body reminded him it wasn't up to speed yet. "I'm no using any chi-based attack unless I'm in terrible danger or my opponent shows definite signs of having the same edge as me." he finished more quietly.
"I know, I know." soothed Mattew gravely. "And I agree with you, boy. I really do. My point is just that you're already a step higher than most, and you're still climbing. Heh, you're roughly my level now, and before you're seventeen I think you'll be higher. So don't worry! Unless you meet someone exceptional - and I'm not saying you won't but still, it'd be quite the coincidence - most of the opponents you'll face will be well-trained youths, yes, but not as dangerous as some of the street kids you've been messing around with."
"You and dad used to 'mess' around with street kids at my age. Grandpa told me that himself."
Mattew looked a little embarassed at that, but decided to forge ahead. "Harrumph! My point being - stop worrying so needlessly. You win, you win. You lose, you lose. Nothing's simpler."
"Oh yeah? Melissa'll be there, Claudia'll be there. Even Alex has showed up for this! Now I know I'm better than many of those but the best among them'll be trouble! And if I'm stiff and fatigued, I'll really lose. I think that's why dear Tom's coming too. He's wishing me to lose...badly." he finished acidely, discarding the now-finished bowl of soup.
The elder man frowned in disapproval. "Now, there, Jeremy. I think you're overreacting with Tom..." he went no further as a bitter chuckle stopped him. Jeremy laid back and stared at the ceiling then, silently. No noise was heard from the two for a long moment.
"He does want that." he sighed. "He's wanted it since he had the hare-brained idea Tom challenge me publicly."
Mattew couldn't help but wince slightly as he painfully recalled the incident. Not that he had been there. No, Jeremy and Thomas told him, each in their own way, and a quiet talk with Melissa and Claudia had gleaned up the blank spots. According to the global account, Jeremy and Melissa were flirting slightly with each other at school, when Tom had come barging in, and told Jeremy in front of half a cafeteria that he wasn't a true fighter where it counted, at heart. Even now, no one could really explain what had possessed his son. Still, it had started an argument that had ended up with a challenge from Tom that they fought each other to prove their views. It was clear from both Jeremy and Melissa's accounts that the smaller Storm thought the whole thing ridiculous. But, publicly, he found he couldn't back down. The fight was set for after school.
The time came. So did Tom, Jeremy and half the school. After exchanging some formalities, the fight had started. Barely a minute later, it was over. Tom laid dazed on the ground, bruised, while Jeremy was just walking away, a little shamefully, with no marks to show for his trouble. According to Claudia, who knew from both friend and boyfriend details of a fight, Jeremy had had the upper hand from the beginning, showing an uncanny speed and amazing reflexes. Tom supposedly got barely half a dozen kicks and punches in, which had been partially deflected as to render them all but useless. Tom, on the other hand, had been hard-pressed to keep up his defense as a flurry of well-honed fists and feet battered him, finding their mark more often than not. It was no wonder he had collapsed so soon.
Mattew sighed. Thinking about this thing, this rift of bitterness that grew between his son and the one who was his son in all but blood, really saddened him. The two were barely on talking terms now, each but a step away from open hostility. No, no. Since that fight, only Jeremy was still refraining from being hostile. And there was nothing he could do. How it sickened him with grief.
The melancolic moment was broken when a small ball of energy zoomed into the room, carrying with it laughter and innocence. It stopped in front of him and there stood Mary-Ann Storm, his two year old daughter. A spitting image of her mother, she possessed brown curls and vibrant eyes decorating a round, happy face. The only thing she had inherited from him was the rather hawkish nose all Storms seemed to have to an extent.
"Jer! Mommy said you eat or she come!" she chirped gaily in the shrill voice of babies, unaware that what she had relayed was threat.
Jeremy laughed at that. "Countries should send ultimatums via springballs like you. There'd never be wars! Tell mommy that I ate the soup, okay?"
"'Kay! You more sick? Wanna teddy for sleep?" she inquired, her face showing the innocence that had made her loved and spoiled by the other four members of the family.
"Nah! I'll be alright!" her face went down a bit and Jeremy visibly backtracked rapidly. "I'm sure the teddy's more happy with you. I'm way too big, now. There's no place for him."
Her little face lighted again, and she turned to Mattew with all the seriousness that a two-year old could manage. It was all the elder man could do not to laugh. He had never thought having her was a mistake, but at times like these she was a true blessing - the innocence all of them had lost either long ago or a while ago.
"Daddy, mommy said she'd spank you if you don't go down to eat with her." she said solemnly. She really looked as if she had given something very serious and dire to her father, not an inside joke that had been running between the two for as long as they had been married. But althought he was able to refrain from laughter, Jeremy was unable to do so completely. A short laugh escaped him, which he tried to cover with a cough. Which was, of course, the worst thing he could have gone, as his weakened lungs nearly cut off, strangling him. The teenager finally hid his head in his pillow, his shoulders quivering with silent laughter. Mary-Ann looked at him worriedly.
"Are you crying, Jer?" she asked worriedly. She seemed to want to comfort him, and went to pat his muscled shoulder seriously. "Don't cry. I'm sure mommy won't spank daddy."
And that was it. Jer finally burst forth in guffaws, tear-eyed, trying to control his breathing. Even Mattew couldn't help but chuckling at the innocent antics of his youngest child. He went and took a the confused two year old in his arms. "I think Jer will be just fine, honey. Let's be off and see mom. Are you okay, Jeremy?"
The youth had retreated under his sheets, which rattled because of the mirth the sick young man was trying to suppress. "Glg....yeah....prfhehe...w-whatever. Get heh-her out before she kills me with another line like that." wafted from the bundle. Mattew smiled. He took the empty bowl with him and left, closing the door behind him. Chuckles he could still hear from the other side of the door. He shook his head as he descended the stairs.
In his arms, the little girl was completely lost. "I said a wrong thing, daddy?"
Mattew smiled widely. "No, my little golden heart. You just did something very right for him. Very right indeed." He's been so needing to laugh lately.
* * * * * * * * * *
Two days later...
Corporal Steve Hemmerson didn't like the job he'd been given. In fact, he really loathed it. Of course, he had never said so. Never complained. Not a peep, not a word. Protests just weren't part of his character. When he had a job given to him, he saw it throught no matter what happened. It was that kind of attitude that made him so grudgingly admired by other soldiers and so appreciated by the higher-ups. But he could still find jobs lame, and he found that one as lame as any he'd ever seen.
What kind of job is that anyway, to go see a damn tournament just because of of them has skills that the commanders seem to find useful. he thought rather bitterly. What am I supposed to do, go up to him and make a psychological profile of the guy? I'm a soldier, a fighter. Not some...some shrink, dammit! Oh man, couldn't they have sent some else?!? Mark, or Cindy, they'd have liked it! But no, it had to be me. And just because I am a fighter, it seems.
Hemmerson chided himself for such childish thoughts - thoughts he'd been having ever since that particular job had been given. Major Brisby had been very adamant about it, something having to do with enlarging the Shadowcrusher Division. He sniffed. The damn UK Gouvernment should have enlarged it long before now, but petty politics had gotten in the way. Politics. Wasted words, wasted money and far too much wasted energy. That's what he thought of it. But everything ran by money and politics. Even MI6, even the SCD. It really sicknened him.
Shaking himself off such gloomy thoughts, he started to do his evening exercises, starting with two hundred push-ups - a light start, to warm his muscles. Then he'd start for real. Yeah, a good bit of sweating, that's what he needed. Not that he needed the exercice. At twenty-one, the youthful-faced soldier had been throught a lot. A lot of training, a lot of sweat and a damn good mouthful of danger. But that had only made him want to train more. And there he was, a walking heap of muscles of six feet, doing some more. He needed to get a life. After all, his other comrades seemed to have other hobbies besides training. Mark enjoyed riding motorcycles and hadn't as far as Hemmerson was concerned ever missed the occasion to play a good game of soccer. Cindy, well, Cindy had the hobby of swimming. She liked it so much many other soldiers had joked that she was a misplaced mermaid. Hell, even the Major seemed to have a craving for chess and rugby. And what where his hobbies. The very same thing he always had had: training. No wonder the others felt he was so dull when off-duty.
The phone rang. Althought he swore he'd sooner die than admit it, he was actually glad to be not doing his workout. He stood up and went to pick it up.
"Hello." he said neutrally. And then he felt his listening ear nearly go deaf.
"Hey there, lad!" shrieked a high-pitched, jovial voice. "Having fun in the country of stars and stripes?!?"
Hemmerson was now holding the phone at a distance, his hears still ringing. He recognized the voice: anyone who heard the voice of Mark Culhen, with its thick scottish accent and its astounding high pitch never forgot it. Ever. He placed his mouth nearer the phone, but kept his ear away. A strange position, an awkward one, but the only one that could allow them to have a true conversation.
"Yeah, Mark, I'm just peachy." he stated. He wasn't even angry at his comrade. That was just the way the scot was. "Bored to death, but peachy."
"Aye, I had that impression. Annoying, don't ye think, not having enought heads to break? Can't really do that in a quiet little region, aye?" The tone was definitely mocking, but Hemmerson refused to rise to the bait. He wasn't in the mood to cross verbal swords.
"Mark, have you got any good reason to make this rather expensive long-distance call?"
"Ye mean besides wanting to let ye hear my marvelous voice?" This time there was a not of glee behing the words Despite himself, the tall man chuckled at the other's antics.
"Yeah, " he said with a quaver in his voice, trying to still the chuckles. "Besides that oh-so missed voice of yours."
"Down to the dirt with it, hmm? Fine, here's the dirt." His tone took on a rather conspirational air. "Ye know 'bout the project ol' Colonel Wolfman has going with Brisby?"
"You mean about recruiting new members?"
"Aye, Stevie, just that. Well, seems Wolfman got those government coinhounds kicking. He's looking for new recruits. And ye're lad is right on top of it!"
"WHAT!" He couldn't be quiet with this. That news and the implications were too much for even his usual stoicism to take. "That KID? They want to enroll this kid into the MI6?!? Are Wolfman and Brisby gone potty?!?"
"Hush, lad! First, they want it in our own SDC, ye know, not just the MI6."
"Why, thats completely..." Hemmerson started hotly, but was cut off.
"Now hold on! Ye've never seen that kid, like ye call him, fight. I have and Brisby did too. The laddie's impressive, Stevie. VERY impressive, if ye catch my drift. And we'll need guys like him pretty soon."
That sobered Hemmerson up. "Why?"
This time there was cold seriousness in the scottish voice, a voice that belongued to a very formidable soldier in his own right. People sometimes forgot Mark was a tempered elite soldier. Until they heard that voice.
"Aye, lad. Remember that hot gal from the Recon Division? Ye know, the one Wolfman was always fighting to get."
Hemmerson nodded. Realising that his companion couldn't see the gesture, he verbalized quickly. "Yeah, sure. How could I forget? Cammy White. A stunner and a VERY capable fighter. What about her? Didn't her unit vanish without a trace?"
"Right on the money, lad! Well, got news from her, at least. Been spotted by a CIA Agent a week ago. Killed an industrialist who, amongst other things, had been a declared enemy of, guess who?" His tone told it all.
"No way...not Shadowlaw..." Hemmerson murmured in disbelief. He must have been heard, for he heard a sigh on the other side of the line.
"Yep, our gal's workin' fer the Shadowlaw bastards now. Wolfman thinks that its not of her own free will though. Which means brainwashing. Now do ye see my point? With people like her on their side, we'll need people like him on ours." The glee returned to his voice. "But we need to test him first before offering the job. And ye're going to love this part."
Mark explained the rest of the plan. As he spoke, a smile, a very predatorial smile appeared on Hemmerson's face, and a light of eagerness in his eyes. When he spoke again, it was with more pleasure than he had since leaving Britain.
"You know what, Mark? This might be a worthwhile trip after all."
"I knew ye'd like it, lad. Just knew it." And both men laughed lightly.
* * * * * * * * * *
Two days later...
Alex Strongfort, despite his six feet and a half of height and two hundred and sixty pound body - the majority of which being muscle - felt extremely queasy and vulnerable. It wasn't that the place was dangerous. After all, the place he stood in had been built to heal, so the danger was really nil. But it was an hospital. And he had always hated hospitals. Because some of the people here had something they coouldn't fight at all, something that would kill them sometimes far before their time. And nothing was worse to a fighter like him than something you couldn't fight. And this room was even worse than the rest of the place in general. For this was where Nathan McIntyre, a young man he had come over the years to consider a friend, reposed in a coma.
The huge man of eighteen looked from the small window of the room to the bed, a little look that immediately made him wince. Everytime he looked at the bed, the mental image of Nate appeared: of very average height, slight of stature and useless as far as anything physical was concerned, but possessed of great intelligence and a will to help others whatever the cost to himself. He hadn't met many people who'd lose the major part of a weekend to help a friend get up to date with homework. Yet Nate did with Claudia, without a word or a condition. It was also a youth who had showed him the best places to find training equipment and the best places to train or jog or whatever he wanted to do. No, Nathan definitely wasn't him. Or Jeremy. Or Claudia. Or even Thomas. His expression flickered with bitterness. Especially not Thomas. And now he was like this.
The bones that had broken had been set, the contusions and wounds cleaned and stiched up. Even then, the doctors had told distraught parents and friends that the wounds on the right side of his face would likely scar, and that there was a strong possibility that his left leg would be unable to support him completely. He'd have to live with a scarred face, a pronounced limp and a cane for the rest of his life. That had made them all furious enough. But at least they knew that he could live with it. Live with it and thrive. Nate just wasn't the kind of man to give up because of physical obstacles. If he woke up.
Which, thus far, he hadn't.
Now, as days went by, Nate's body was slowly deteriorating, slowly becoming little more than a scarred, mangled corpse that clung to life. Unable to take it anymore, Alex turned back to look out the window again.
Next to the rather oblivious young man, Claudia was babbling away, telling the slumberer everything that had happened up until now. It was something that his girlfriend had taken to doing, and that Jeremy participated to at the times when he went along with her. They just talk about all the little and big things that had happened to them since the last time they had come to the room, trivial things that, as far as Alex was concerned, rang upon deaf ears, no matter the mumbo-jumbo psychologists spat around. In any case, he was absolutely unable to speak with someone who was out so badly nothing existed on the outside. So the big man could understand what his friends were doing and up to a point he respected it. He just thought it all rather futile.
At the fast and lively rate Claudia was speaking, she didn't believe the same thing as him at all.
"You know that Jer's going to another tournament today?" she was saying in earnest Yeah, we're going to go see him right after this. You know, he's gotten so good lately, he might just be the champion this time! And no, Tom's not gonna participate - he's been banned from those things, remember? Anyway, I'm not sure anyone wants him around now. He's pretty scary, especially after Jer just busted him aside the other day." Her tone took on a rather conspirational level. Alex almost snorted at that. "And I think its pretty sad, you know. Those two barely talk to each other anymore, and they used to hang around like brothers. But now..." she trailed off, not knowing how to say the rest.
The big man couldn't really understand that last part completely. Having never known Tom when he was younger, he had only the last two years to make any kind of judgement. And during that time, as much as he had come to like Jer as a friend, he also came to despise Tom. Sometimes he wondered why. Maybe it was because, for all his conceit and inner arrogance, Jeremy clung to firm ethics and good, reasonable beliefs, while Tom simply showed his skills and let nothing stand in his way, no matter who got hurt. Yes, it might be that. But, still, he felt there was something more, something at the back of his head that made the difference between the two teens. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. Psychology just wasn't his forte. He looked at his watch blearily. Then did a rather fantastic double-take. He approached the girl and bent quickly.
"Sorry about that." he said hastily. "But the tournament's already started! Come on!" He tugged at her slightly. Claudia gave him a frustrated look and sighed. She turned to the comatose teen.
"Sorry, Nate. Gotta go. I'll get Jer to tell you how it all went! See ya!" With that she got up, and they both left the room.
Once they were outside, however, she stopped cold and whirled so fast that Alex actually backtracked in order to to slam into her. She looked at him with a more-than-slightly angry eyes as he fidgeted and scratched his head. This girl, who only went to his chest as far as height was concerned, was the only female he had ever met who could make him feel little. Her gaze was so willful he was rather surprised she wasn't burning throught him.
"That was way rude, Alex." she stated. He stopped fidgeting, his mind nearly freezing as it processed that last tidbit.
"Come again?" he asked, bewildered.
"I said it was rude, leaving him like that. And all for some stupid tournament..."
"Now hold on, here!" he protested. She ignored him.
"...that we know Jer's gonna win anyway!" she finished.
Since the beginning of this ridiculous situation, Alex had been fighting between anger and astonishment. Anger rapidly won that battle.
"Now what do you mean? You think its better to stay here and babble away at a guy who's so fucking out of it he's certainly not gonna care about what you say, rather than go see a live friend doing something he's wanted to do for quite some time?!?" He hadn't chosen his words very well, he knew. As a matter of fact, he didn't think he could have made it sound worse, and he kicked himself numerous times inwardly as a result. But the damage had been done. Claudia's eyes clouded for a moment in grief and hurt, then the anger returned, magnified ten times.
"Why, you big...! Its my oldest friend you've just depreciated like that, you jerk!" she shouted.
He took a step toward her, his face tightening. "Its not him I'm having a problem with right now!" he fairly bellowed. "Its with you and your damn way of judging actions!"
"Well, if you...!" she began.
"THAT'S ENOUGHT!!"
Both turned to see a red-faced, grey-haired man in a doctor's garb, glaring at the two. After he had their attention, his tone became even, but his eyes flashed nonetheless.
"Now, I don't know what you children are thinking." he said, his voice soft but sharp. "But may I remind the two of you that this is an hospital? That there are people here who are sick enought without having to hear a shouting match? Now I'm going to ask the two of you to go. Immediately. And if you don't, I'll have security remove you."
Alex turned crimson in shame as he realized what he had been doing and, from what he caught at the corner of his sight, Claudia felt just as sheepish. He quickly pulled himself together and bowed slightly to the fuming physician.
"That will not be necessary, doctor. We will leave immediately."
"Yeah. Sorry."
The both moved away, feeling the burning gaze of the old doctor following them, as well as the disapproving eyes of more than one person who had seen or heard the exchange. It was only when they were in an empty elevator, and that the door had closed, that they breathed a sigh of relief. Then an uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally Alex couldn't stand it.
"I'm sorry." he began uncertainly. "I...I didn't mean to say Nate meant nothing. Its just that...well...hospitals and me..."
"I know." she interrupted softly but with more firmness than he showed or felt. "I'm sorry too. I'm just so scared that he's never gonna..." she trailed off.
Alex found himself shaking his head. "He'll awaken, you know." he turned to look at her in the eyes. "That guy's not tough physically, maybe, but he's got a pretty strong mind. He'll awaken. I believe it. I know his parents and Jeremy do. So should you."
"I know. And I believe it too. Its just been...so long." suddenly her mouth quirked upward. "We deserved the old man's scolding didn't we?"
"Did we ever!" he chuckled. "I was surprised he didn't boot us out himself." That both enjoyed a slight, sheepish laugh at that, and it was that way, a bit uncomfortable but reconciled, that the two left the hospital and took Alex's car to see another friend.
* * * * * * * * * *
Five minutes later...
On an hospital bed, Nathan McIntyre lay motionless, surrounded by the silence now that he had been left alone. None could have ever told if the young, decrepit man was alive at all, but for the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the slow beeping of the machine that indicated his heart was still beating.
But then, had one watched the motionless left hand, he would have gasped. For there was a slight twitch. Then a greater one. Then the hand moved feebly.
And a sound escaped Nathan McIntyre's lips in the first time in many, many months.
* * * * * * * * * *
One hour later...
Jeremy Storm was relaxing, battered and somewhat still feeling stiff as an after-effect of his cold, but overally exultant. He was winning this. Thus far, he'd fought his way up to the finale with little problems, surprising himself, his uncle and just about everyone in the place. But, as he had fought decidedly fair in all of his fights, he'd received more approving stare than negative ones. Next to him, Melissa sat, a little ill at ease in this place where she really, he knew, didn't feel she belonged, while his uncle was congratulating him on his last match.
"Well done, boy! I see you've mastered all of the techniques flawlessly. It seems your grandpa's been showing you some subtle moves, too. In all the way, you've done well. Especially with that Castillo girl."
In the quarter-finale, he had ironically come against Hilda Castillo, the girl Thomas had nearly maimed the last time the two cousins had participated. She had obviously not only recovered, but greatly improved, and in fact had been harder to defeat than the semi-finalist he had come against. Fortunately for him, although she was faster than him his techniques were more refined and he had managed to use his greater reach and strength to gradually overpower her. He had finally, after many attcks and feints, swept her feet from under her, winning the match and the round. It had felt good to him, being able to show her that his family knew how to fight fair. But he had to admit, it felt even better to win.
But something suddenly sobered him. The other finalist. He too, had breezed past his fights with astounding vigor and skills. No one knew that person: he had appeared out of nowhere to fight at this tournament. Maybe he had had the intention to prove himself, like Jeremy himself? Somehow, it didn't fit. It was too...too sudden.
Melissa, of course, immediately felt that something was wrong. "What is it, Jer? Something bothering you?"
He took a moment before replying. Did it really bother him, to have someone who seemed to be an ample equal of his? As he reflected on it, he found that it didn't. He was just annoyed that such a big obstacle had come between himself and the last test he had set himself, winning the tournament.
"Not really." he said after a moment. "Just trying to forget I won all that."
"But why?"
"Because if I think like that, the guy I'm about to fight won't even break a sweat. Better to act as if this was my first fight, with all the caution that comes with it."
Mattew nodded. "You grandfather's lessons were well-learned, I see. That's a very good way to think." he sighed. "All the same, I would've liked it if Thomas had been able to come."
Jeremy shrugged. "Just as well, really. I don't think he'd stomach me winning this, just like I wouldn't stomach him seeing me lose. Better that way. Keeps the civility we have left intact." It was said sadly all the same. It was at that time that Melissa caught side of Alex and Claudia, hurrying towards them.
"Darn!" Alex swore as he came up. "We've missed all the fun!"
Jeremy laughed. "On the contrary, Alex, you ox! The fun is really just beginning!"
"Sorry about that, Jer. We were out visiting Nate at the hospital." said Claudia.
"Then you're forgiven, of course. I really think Nate's more important than my last show of craziness."
At that, Claudia gave Alex a triumphant look, while the big fighter harrumphed and looked a little upset. Jeremy really wondered what was up with those two. Evidently something had happened. But before he could pry some info, Melissa stepped in, and he had to let it go.
"Has there been any change?" she asked Claudia hopefully. The blonde's eyes immediately went aggrieved. She had her answer: no.
Mattew seemed to decide that all that was enough. "Have faith in him. He'll be all right. When the spirit's strong, the body will mend. And I know damn well Nathan has as strong a spirit as they come. Now stop this. He wouldn't want you to start getting all gloomy. You know him."
That shook everyone, but it was what was needed. They shrugged off the sadness they all felt, pushing it into the background, and resumed more casual conversation. Eventually Mattew left to chat with some of the organizers, Melissa and Claudia started a talk about the last movies they'd seen and Alex and Jeremy, after talking a few minutes about the troubles the big man was having with his car, turned their conversation toward the rival finalist.
"You're right. He's way not like the others." mused Alex.
"Yeah. He's used his skills before. A lot."
"The way he's walking around? Sure. And he's made some ennemies, too, the way he seems to be ready for a fight to start, anywhere."
"Yep." Jeremy grinned. "This is something I've always wanted you know. A martial artist that could be able to defeat me. I'm looking forward to this."
"Not worried?"
"You bet I'm worried! Worried to lose! And that guy's exactly the type of person to justify that worry."
As they discussed this, they heard someone say that the final rounds would begin in five minutes. The two friends exchanged a look and Alex clasped the smaller teen on the shoulder, silently wishing him good luck. Jeremy gave him a smile, than started to stretch his muscles in preparation for the fight.
"I really hope you're worth all that." said a voice. Jeremy immediately turned around, surprised. This guy had managed to approach him without being felt! He pushed the rating he had given this guy up a few notch and returned his stare evenly.
"I'll try." he stated, althought he didn't know what he was supposed to be worth. Not that it mattered. "May we have a good fight." he added.
The other man smiled. How old was he? Eighteen? Twenty? More? Hard to tell.
"I hope so too." he said, and walked away.
Jeremy watched him go, thinking Yep, this is going to be one the people here are gonna remember, if this guy has his way.
And he was so looking forward to all of this.
* * * * * * * * * *
At the same moment...
Where am I?
That was the very first thought that Nathan uttered as he came to conciousness. The fog in his mind was so dense, however, that it was some time before he had enough wits gathered about him to elucidate such a simple mystery. He glanced about in complete confusion, taking in the sterile room, the instruments, before he finally made it to its rightful conclusion.
Ah, an hospital. Got it bad, t'seems. But what did...did I get exactly? And how?
His memory was only a garble of images and sensations, unable to answer him. However, he worked to assert all he could on making sense of them.
Alley...pain...fear...darkness...people...noise...a face, in the darkness. Twisted face, hateful, demented face...the face of...of...
Then the memories clicked together, and it started to come back to him. And with it, came back fear and horror. He tried to jerk his body to a sitting position, found he could barely move. How long had he been out, anyway?
Not too long, hopefully, he thought, glad at least to find his mind intact. Because if I was, a lot of really bad things have happened. Things I wanted to prevent on my own, like a damn fool. Gotta tell the others, this time. Get...get Claudia and, and Jer.
He tried to move his arm, found that he could althought it felt like it weighted a ton. Damn this weakened body! After a excruciatingly long time, he managed to call for a nurse. Once he had done so, he laid back and relaxed a little. And started to make plans.
Gotta tell them. Gotta make them believe me. Before more of this happens.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later...
Steve Hemmerson had entered the fight with caution but also an underlying current of utter confidence. Now, as he blocked another surprisingly quick attack, he found that he still felt confident. But not as utterly.
To say that this kid was good would have meant little. Those he had fought in this little - but so refreshing - tournament had all been qualified young people, all quite a degree better than the average. They where the best where they came from and it showed. Only that kid had been different. He hid things, held back something that would probably have made him the winner of all his matches even faster than he had actually won them. He had thought that he had gauged this inner strength adequately, however.
He had never been really good at gauging strength. Mark was. Mark had told him. He hadn't listened. Now he was paying for not doing just that. The boy was fast, extremely, fast, and had definitely honed his reflexes as high as he could get them. He also put a greater whallop than one could have thought looking at his body and size. All in all, he was perhaps the greatest challenge of that age range Hemmerson had ever faced.
Fighting off a combo of punches, he found an opening at last, and uppercutted the boy, following up with a swift kick to the solar plexus. The boy stumbled backward, and he side-stepped and let loose a back-kick using all of his strength. Then, just as he made his move, the teen straightened and brought his hands up. Realizing the trap, the undercover agent tried to halt his action, but it was far too late. The lad caught his foot and heaved him backward, and he crashed on his ass rather unceremoniously.
It was at that time that Hemmerson finally got fed up with this even match. Flipping back to his feet, he charged toward his opponent, who assumed a defensive stance. As he charged, he concentrated his strength into his hand, letting it loose upon the teen. The defense caved in faced with that little technique, which had been dubbed the Bomb by fellow MI6 Agent Cindy Morella. The boy litterally flew backward, barely managing to stay inside the fighting circle. The boy managed to get back on his feet, while the judges afforded Steve one more point. Hemmerson almost smiled. As good as this kid was, he was about to lose this round. He saw the other one fix him with a slightly glazed gaze, and wondered if the kid was thinking about the very same thing. However, it was time to wrap this up. He charged as soon as the referee gave his okay.
As he neared his opponent, the kid stretched his hand, palm out, towards him, his fingers like claws. He saw the boy's lips form words, and a weird hue appeared around the palm and fingers. Hemmerson froze as he realized what this was. He'd seen it before, a very few times. His instant of freezing, however, was his undoing, as he didn't dodge at the only moment he could. He felt slammed by an unseen force, greater than five strong blows, and couldn't help but stagger away. As he did, his defense opened completely. He didn't have time to close it up before he was kicked in the stomach, then slammed away by the teen's body. He recovered at last, blocking the blows and returning them. Thinking to bring himself some breathing space, he managed to fling the boy away, stepping back two steps.
As he did so, the teen let up his defense completely. Bewildered, Hemmerson wondered what the problem was. The teen shrugged tiredly and pointed downward, at the agent's feet. It was thus that he saw it at the same time he heard it.
"RING OUT! WINNER, JEREMY STORM OF KYOKUSHIN KARATE! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!"
As the crowd applauded, he could only stare at the line he had crossed while stepping backward in his haste, the line the was the edge of the fighting circle. The attacks had pushed him away more than he had thought. At first, he felt humiliated at the loss, and more than a little angry. It wasn't often that someone outmaneuvered him like that. Then anger turned to amusement and grudging respect. Mark, as always, had been right. This might just be a perfect match with the rest of the SCD. He sure had more than enought strength, and a good deal of tactical imagination. As for the rest of the requirements, Mark probably wouldn't have set him up for this particular workout if the kid wasn't in the green all the way. All that remained was to make the formal offer.
He shook his head and walked over to give his opponent an handshake. As he did, he saw that at least the teen had been to his limits. In a real fight, Hemmerson would certainly have won, even if he had been battered. Still, the boy did show a LOT of promise.
"Not bad, kid." he said. "You sure got some tricks up you're sleeve."
"The same to you. You're one hell of a fighter." said the teen with a very tired smile.
Hemmerson nodded, then decided it was best to drop the bomb. "Hum...could we have a talk after you're congratulated aplenty? I've got some stuff to tell you."
The boy's brows arched in curiosity. "Stuff like?"
He shook his head. "Can't tell you that here. But its pretty important."
The teen looked at him with intelligent grey eyes, gauging him all over again. The intensity of the gaze got the kid up another notch in the agent's book. He appreciated strong wills. At last he received a slow nod.
"Okay. I'll be there in ten minutes. At the east entrance?"
"Fine."
"Okay, then." and with that he turned away and went to receive the paraise and the trophy that he felt - and, Hemmerson admitted, did - he deserved.
He shrugged. Winning this hadn't been his purpose, after all. It was just as well that the one receiving all the praise was really the one who had worked for it. With the stealth that had kept him alive in many encounters, Hemmerson left the area, blending back into the background without anyone being the wiser.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later...
Claudia couldn't believe that anyone could both look so happy and yet so tired. However, that was what her friend was being right now, walking with a slight shiver from exhaustion but also with a grin that threatened to split his skull in half. He was walking with the trophy, having received the heartfelt congratulations of the former champion and of his uncle and the envy of many others. Before he could speak, however, Alex reached out and slapped him on the shoulders.
"Well, well!! Congrats! Now we're both champs in our fields! Now we can beat up each other on equal ground!" laughed the huge young man.
"Yeah, well, not today, pal!" retorted Jeremy as he rubbed the slapped - and therefore, bruised - shoulder. "All I want after that is a bath and sleep for two days."
"Really? Just sleep?" purred Melissa, stepping towards him. He looked at her and smiled a little lecherously.
"Well, maybe not just sleeping. I'm sure I'd have time for other distractions." Saying that, he pushed the trophy into Alex's hands and went to give the brunette a passionate kiss. Claudia shook her head at the mention of sex. Like they'd do it. She didn't really know why, but those two were nearly a bunch of monks towards sexual matters. They seemed to shy away from things deeper than kisses and hugs. Claudia smiled secretely to herself. Not like Alex and she. Between him and she, the first time was long past, and they had actually gotten comfortable with the concept. But Melissa and Jer, that was another story.
Bah. It wasn't her business, and she'd sooner shave her head than pester good friends on things they seemed unready for. They'd just have to go at this when they wanted to, without people pushing.
Her train of thought was broken as Jeremy released his girlfriend, slapping his head. "Oh yeah, almost forgot!" he exclaimed.
"Forgot what?" asked Alex. All three looked at the new champion expectantly.
"Oh, not much. Promised to have a chat with the other finalist. Shouldn't be long." he kissed Melissa again. "Be back soon!"
"You'd better, or I'm asking Alex to go kick you back here!"
"And far be it for me to refuse a lady's request." answered the giant in an over-polite tone, grinning. They all laughed.
"Then I'll REALLY try to cut it short. See ya soon!" and with that he sped off as fast as he could. The others just looked at him for a moment. Then Melissa turned to them in curiosity.
"Why do you think that guy wants to talk to him?"
Alex shrugged. "Who knows? We'll find out soon, anyway. If we're lucky, maybe the guy would spar with us. He's very good."
At that moment, something beeped. Two pairs of eyes fixed Claudia, who looked slightly embarassed as she dug out her cellular phone.
"Hello? Yes, this is Claudia. I...miss McIntyre! What is it...yes. Yes he's near. Yeah I can go get him too, but...huh?!?"
And the place litterally shook when the next word was uttered.
"REALLY!?!?!"
* * * * * * * * * *
10 minutes later...
Jeremy scratched his head as he tried to take in all that he had learned. Fact one: that guy, Steve something, was actually an MI6 agent. Fact two: He had been charged with doing the final testing on a very possible recruit. And fact three - the fact he actually liked the least: HE, Jeremy Storm, age sixteen, was that potential recruit. This all added up to a final note that he was completely bumped and clueless.
"O...kay." he managed. "You're part of MI6, and MI6 wants me, right?"
The other guy -Hemmerson, yeah, that was it - nodded. "Crude, but the main point is there, yes."
"Okay." he was really out of it with this. He thought about many possible questions, and finally settled on a very simple but useful one. "Why?"
Hemmerson seemed to have been waiting for this. He leaned against the wall and stared at the neon on the ceiling. "How to put this? You're school record put you amongst the five best of your class in all fields, which means you're not lacking in the intelligence departement. Other files tag you as imaginative, ethical and open-minded. Finally, and this is the most important point: you fight better than the average guy. Way better, I've seen that myself. Now that kind of strength, paired with an intelligent mind, is just what my division, the SCD, needs."
The teen who had just been named champion put up a hand. "Somethings weird. The MI6's Brit, aint it? How come you sound like an american." The other man smiled.
"That's easy. I'm not british. Nor an american. I'm canadian, actually. My division looks for quality work in all the nations in the British Commonwealth, Europe and the U.S, too."
"And how many are you?"
"Can't really tell you that, you know."
Jeremy nodded. He had expected that somehow, but had deemed it worthy of a try. So he tackled something else.
"You told me you guys fight terrorist groups. What groups."
Hemmerson hesitated, like it galled him to talk about that - which it might, for all he knew. "Different groups, but one has been and remains our main concern."
"Big fish?"
"Very big fish."
"And its called?" Jeremy inquired. The agent seemed to hesitate even more, which did nothing to ease the growing unease he was feeling. However, he seemed to come to a decision, and fixed Jeremy with an even stare.
"You might have heard of it. Its called Shadowlaw. Kind of fits with our Shadow Crusher nametag, huh?"
Jeremy barely heard that last part. Shadowlaw! Heard of it? Who hadn't? One of the richest, most influential terrorist groups in the world, dealing in everything that could be labelled as illegal. On the street, the fighters he saw spoke of it in whispers, talking about the inner circle of the organization, four enforcers especially: Balrog, Vega, and Sagat. All extremely powerful fighters, feared by all those he had encountered - especially the great Muy Thai Champion Sagat. But darker whispers hinted at someone infinitely more powerful than that fearsome three. A man cloaked in mystery and power. A man known only as Bison. Hearsay, of course, but it still gave him the shivers.
He finally faced Hemmerson. "You gotta be kidding me! Go against Shadowlaw?!? You gotta be suicidal to do that!"
"I know. I also know you're one of the few guys who can really oppose it."
"That's rid-"
"Also, its better you join us than be forced to join them."
That made him cold, the way that soldier said that last bit. He found that he both wanted and didn't want him to elaborate. Curiosity won, of course.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked worriedly.
The man's face was dead serious now. "You're strong, Storm. I've seen that. A few more years and you'll be quite something to see. Problem is they'll know that. And they'll want you. And if they find you - and they will - you'll have no choice: death or slavery."
"You're kidding!" he said, but it lacked strength. "If that's what they wanted to do, why didn't they go after my uncle -he's strong, and was even stronger back then or my own mother, who was rumored to be stronger?"
"Because at that time they were still setting up shop. Now, their expanding. And for that they need enforcers. Extremely powerful enforcers. People like you." he stepped toward Jeremy suddenly. "These bastards have destroyed so many and so much already. Interpol, the KGB, MI6, CIA and all those agencies, their doing their best. But we need all the help we can get, in the SCD, formed to fight Shadowlaw. Join us."
Jeremy was upset and confused. He needed more time with this. Time to think, to categorize - this was way to much to think at once. Shadowlaw...the SCD...terrorists...fighters...Bison... He shook his head to clear it.
"I...I need a bit of time to...to figure this one out. Please." he was nearly begging.
However, he was met with a nod of understanding. "Of course. Take your time. Just-" he stopped suddenly as they both heard steps. Fast steps. They tensed.
But it was only Claudia, who yelped when she saw him. "Finally! Man, you're an hard guy to find! Come on! We gotta go! Now!"
Still upset about his discussion with Hemmerson, Jeremy shook her off. "Where's the fire? What's going on? What-" Then she turned on him and glared, shutting him up. She then took possession of his arm again and pulled.
"Nate is awake! He wants to see you right this instant!" she told him excitedly.
Awash with surprise and a newfound joy, he didn't resist her at all when she pulled him again to follow her.
_______________________________________________________________________
Here it is! Sorry its been so long, exams and my personal life have been taking a lot of my time lately. Hope you enjoy it. If you got any ideas or just want to tell me what you think, just tell me people! I'd love to hear it.
Next chapter: An awakened Nathan gives Jeremy and Claudia astounding news. But what will come of it? Heartbreaks, betrayal and revelations come forth in chapter 6 of Will and Fate!
Jeremy
