One eye opened and swivelled around unseeing, searching for shapes the rational mind knew weren't there. Then, gently, he placed his hands against the sand a little above his waist and pushed himself up slowly. It may have been expected by some that Robby would find it hard to push himself up but a fact that most fail to comprehend is that the overweight – or at least the active ones – have to move the weight they carry at all times. His arms contained far more than fat and this was noticed.
"You always wake up this early?"
The old man was sitting cross-legged across from him, poking at the ashen remains of the fire with his branch.
"It's a habit, you?"
"I've been sleeping in too often recently, thought I'd get an early start today."
He nodded and shivered, the fingers of sleep already releasing him from their warmth and letting him back into real world. Which wasn't that cold actually, if not for that damn breeze he would be warm.
"Been quite windy since you arrived," Robby curled his legs just like his elderly companion and sat with his hands on his knees, "that something to do with you being a Ki Warrior?"
The question was aggressive but Robby couldn't help it, he had very distinct memories of his brother's friends and what they were like towards the end of the night. He remembered the fire just fine; some things never leave the mind no matter how much you wish they would.
"Not a warrior, son. I'm a teacher, the old Turtle Master at your service."
The name meant nothing to him; his brother's experiences had had teachers and instructors but no one had titles like the 'Turtle Master.' In his mind's ear he could hear his brother's low, dull laughter: "Whats a turtle gotta do with fighting?"
"Pretty strong for a teacher, Turtle Master."
The Master shrugged but it didn't look to him to be the shrug of the modest. Nor that of a man who likes to act modest to make himself feel proud. In that shrug Robby could see a little self-contempt; this shrugger has seen people far past his own abilities.
"I was pretty good in my day but that day is far behind."
Was there wistfulness in Roshi's voice?
"Is that why you're looking for your sister, Turtle Master? You know they say people can never go home."
Robby had expected a sigh of exasperation or a little admission of despair but behind the glasses he could feel the focus of the old ones glare.
"Is that what they say? Well I suppose that depends on where home is."
Part of him wanted to correct the old man on getting the saying wrong but he overruled it. He still had questions and his companion seemed more open to talking in the sunlight.
"If you do find her, what're you going to do? Just disappear?"
The Turtle Master didn't answer; he climbed to his feet with no noticeable difficulty and leaned backwards with his hands placed on his waist, swivelling his head as he did so. He then, as if Robby wasn't even there, proceeded to crack his knuckles one at a time. One leg stretched out with a hand sliding down to his knee as he started doing what Robby believed to be aerobics.
"Who are you?!"
Roshi have no sign of having heard him speak, standing with one foot in front of the other he straightened his body and unfolded his arms together in one smooth, graceful motion. Turning, still in that lethargic pace, the old man drew one hand back to his side and tightened the other into a fist.
Sitting cross-legged on the sandy beach, only partly aware of the cramp building up in his legs, Robert watched the old man's graceful movements in part-wonder, part-jealousy. To his mind it was almost infuriating; he was sitting on a beach, watching a crazy old man move with more control and grace than he would ever be able to pull off.
"Son, are you going to sit their gawping all day or are you gonna join in?"
Roshi had paused in his strange aerobics and was watching Robert intently. Obviously seeing that he was out of his trance, the old man motioned for him to 'join in.' Robert did, standing slowly in order to ease the pain that piped up in his legs before standing beside Roshi who nodded encouragingly.
"This is just a little relaxation thing I learned a while ago. I don't normally use it with students but I'm a lot older and you're a lot fatter so I guess some things have got to change."
In the midst of the burning embarrassment (it's like he doesn't even know he's making fun of me!) something niggled at him. He tried to capture it, to discover what it was, but it slipped out of his mind almost as quickly as it appeared and Roshi wasn't wasting any time.
"It starts out with the breathing, just like everything else. Sort out your breathing, son, and everything else falls into place."
Within a few minutes the two were moving at almost the same pace, Robert felt clumsy and awkward as he swung his hands – huge and monstrous next to the old man's – but he persevered with it. Every movement had to be thought out before he put it into action, he was constantly either slowing his movements or fighting to keep balance. In a way it would have been easier to go quicker but that was probably the whole point.
If only one good thing came out of the embarrassment of stumbling backwards and forwards beside his poised companion, it was the reassurance that Roshi had at least been honest about his profession. While the old codger did have a deficiency when it came to the remorseless honesty about Robert's weight, in all other respects he was patient and understanding.
He pointed out the flaws and stumbles Robert made without fail but - unlike the drill instructors his brother had come up against - didn't make him feel useless. He merely told him what he was doing wrong and they moved on. Robert was sure they covered the same move seven times over but Roshi kept repeating the same advice without comment until he got it right.
Taking a step forwards, their hands unfolded outwards together.
"How long have we been doing this?"
The two turned and extend one hand while the other drew back.
"Long time. Tired?"
They straightened out, hands falling to their sides.
"No. I'm not sure why not."
Roshi grinned.
"Something you'll discover with my training, nothing is ever as it seems."
Robert blinked, that was it! The thing that had niggled him, Roshi had called him his student!
Then the peace was shattered.
"Hands on your heads!"
Stunned, Robert twisted around towards the deafening voice and stumbled backwards, only just managing to maintain his balance. Roshi, on the other hand, merely glanced at him despairingly,
"Son, you're going to have to stop jumping at every sound. Warriors are calm."
"I'm not a warrior!" Robert snapped back at him, his embarrassment giving way to despair as he looked back towards the voice, "They are warriors!"
6 men of height varying from stout to lanky stood at the edge of the beach, they were kitted out in dark green trousers and shirt with small black rucksacks. He took all this in subconsciously as the majority of his attention was devoted to their blasters.
The Helion make of blaster was, to be frank, the average shape and design. A cylinder of incredibly strong steel encases the hand up to the wrist, a bar inside giving the person wielding the device something to grip. The cylinder tapers off at the end into a slit about 4 cm thick and about half the width of the cylinder.
Thanks to the dark forests that surrounded Helion the blaster was spray-painted a dark greenish brown colour but that was the only sign of individuality.
"I'm guessing this would be your reinforcements?"
Robert looked back to the old man who appeared completely unperturbed at the appearance of the solders, as if he had known they were coming. Normally he would have followed that train of thought but it would all be mute if fighting started, Roshi had to know what he was getting into.
"Squads like these always have at least one, maybe even two Ki Warriors. They keep them disguised in order to protect them – you don't stand a chance."
"Oh really?"
"We should give up!"
That broke through the Turtle Master's defences, the calm façade wavered and, for an instant, Robert found himself looking at a very, very old man.
"You want to give up? That's..-"
"Sense! You can't win!"
"I said hands on your head!"
One of the soldiers, the apparent leader, was striding forwards with his left hand blocking out the sun and his right pointed directly at the duo. The soldiers were falling into place behind and around him, blasters aimed easily at their heads in case of resistance.
"Do it or I'll open fire!"
Then he lost momentum, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure he was still in control. Robert had been hoping for something like that, a glance towards one of the soldiers. Maybe two.
Not all of them.
The sergeant, Robert could see the stripes clearly now, was a figurehead. He was a distraction from the real danger and even he was aware of it. He turned back and stared across the abyss, into Robert's eyes. Two men - just normal men - caught up in something way over their heads.
They froze.
They closed their eyes.
They clenched their fists but only one was holding a blaster.
Robert was aware of the bright yellow sphere of energy looming towards him, like a meteor bent on tearing through his skull and out the other side. He had, in his darker moments, wondered what it would be like to face death, what thoughts that would go through his head.
Now he knew that only one thought passed through the dying. Not yet!
The world went black and shockwaves rippled into his body, sending him stumbling backwards into the sand. He was almost positive he had died, reminded of what it had been like to awaken after Roshi had saved his life, and there was evidence to support the theory. The whole beach seemed to be covered in flames, bright white flames that licked around the 5 men Robert had picked out as Ki Warriors. And, standing before him with his palms crossed in front of his face, Roshi looked weaker than ever.
No one was paying any attention to him, not even Roshi though Robert couldn't fault him for that. It should have been a relief but, for some reason, it just made him angry.
In a flash of light something happened, one of the warriors went from standing by his comrades to hovering in mid-air, his foot embedded deep in the old man's back, then the image faded and both Robert and the warrior turned to see the old man standing, bony arms folded, a couple of feet away. The warrior landed and kicked off the ground towards Roshi, sand spraying out behind him, and brought his fist down on the Turtle Master's head but – faster than he could follow – Roshi did something that sent the warrior stumbling backwards, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.
For Robert it was like moving in a dream; under the bright yellow sun, surrounded by white fire and plagued by explosions, he crawled and shuffled his way up the beach to where the sergeant was lying – presumably having fainted when the encounter began. Upon arriving he discovered it was something quite different but there wasn't any time to consider it.
Lifting the sergeant's right arm, his ungainly fingers were only just small enough to undo the latch at the edge of the blaster's inside, the whole thing opening up and falling away from the arm easily enough. Then, conscious of the chaos that surrounded him, Robert closed the contraption, with some difficulty, around his own arm.
He had some experience with the blasters, it was standard for all security personal and on top of that his brother had gotten a kick out of showing off. Holding it up out of his own shadow, Robert slid an almost invisible panel away to reveal the blaster's controls. It took a second to adjust it to his settings, practiced fingers flowing easily over the keypad with dexterity they didn't normally show, and then he turned and opened himself to the fight.
It was hard to follow; all over the beach he could see individual Roshis frozen in time. One was poised ready to jump, another kicking out in midair, another punching his fist deep into his opponent's stomach. The images only lasted a split second, after that they faded – leaving the warriors that had been surrounding him completely confused.
And yet only four were fighting, one stood back from the whole ordeal and that made him all the more imposing in Robert's eyes. Of all of the others only he possessed a scouter, the blue tinged lens glowing yellow from the amount of data it was collecting. He was assessing Roshi, not just for the benefit for his squad, which Robert saw as a slapdash collection of the strongest fighters available, but for his superiors.
It would be much later before Robert would realise he had already stopped thinking of them as his own superiors.
As the others ducked and weaved and cried out, infuriated by this old man who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, this man stood back and took it all in. He was who was really in charge, his mission to collect as much data on the strange aggressor then take him out. And as Roshi continued to prove his ability, Helion's attention would only increase.
Robert wasn't aware of his arm training on the man's head until he hand almost pressed his thumb down on the trigger of the blaster. Already he could feel part of his own Ki, meagre though it was, flowing to his arm in anticipation. It shocked him to think that he could have even that much control. The blaster obviously affected people in that way.
To fire would separate him from his own country, his own people.
To not would separate him from Roshi, this old man with a harsh tongue and dark past.
So Robert closed his eyes and chose, the bright yellow of the blaster's fire filling his vision even through his eyelids.
