Volume I – Genesis

Chapter 1—Cybernetics 101, Part I: Course Outline

Patrick

"Hey, Pat, wait up!" I heard a familiar voice shout down the hall.

I turned my head slightly, just in time to see a the shock of sun-dyed brown hair attached to my best friend weave through the sea of students. His steady gait picked up into a light jog as he tried to squirm through the majority of the senior class crowding the hallways, before he finally pushed his way up to me.

"Yo, Matt! What's up?" I greeted over the commotion, clasping hands with him and bumping shoulders slightly. "I see even you can't swim through these flooded hallways."

"Ha-ha. Unless you can fly, there's no easy way through this maze," he griped. "And dude…fourth period might as well have shot me in the face. That's how dead I feel."

"Tell me about it, man; the only way Ms. Rush could have made my nap any better is if she pulled out a piano and sang me a lullaby," I agreed, smirking at him.

"Yeah, I have her last period; so much worse than having her in the middle of the day," he said while dodging a gaggle of text-walking girls. "But guess what!"

I had to admit, he one-upped me there. "What, did you bomb another English quiz?"

"How'd you know?" he half-shouted, fixing his backpack strap.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Just a lucky guess."

Matthew Jamison was a lot of things, but an English scholar he was not. I liked to tease him about it because it was his first and only natural language. But what he lacked in language arts, he made up for in athleticism and charisma. He had to have some charisma to befriend me, at least. I wasn't necessarily a social butterfly and hadn't tried to get know anyone in the two years since I'd move here from Toronto sophomore year.

Matt and I didn't look like we'd be friends—he was a born and raised Southern Californian to the tee, with the suntanned skin, straight pearly whites, and angled jaw to prove it. He was a rich kid with all the right things at his fingertips, but he never acted like it. He never held it over me or looked down on me, even though technically, he was a full inch or two taller than me—somewhere above six feet. And while it was mostly because he always dragged me to the beach with him to practice surfing, or to the country club pool to practice his butterfly stroke, he was probably the only person I knew to say he was jealous that I had darker skin than him. He didn't really care that it was because of my mixed heritage.

"Well, English quiz or not, I was gonna say my dad is gonna take me to get my license tomorrow. So you know what that means? Song of Kaos movie tomo—dude watch out!"

See, Matt wasn't necessarily the smartest of people, but he at least knew how to watch where he was walking. I could speak French and English fluently, but I hadn't mastered the whole walking and talking feat quite yet, apparently.

Thus, how I crashed right into some immense and immovable force.

I looked up and could have torched a patch of four-leaf clovers for my luck. Yeah, luck of the Irish my ass. Of all the 12,000 students at Reefside High School, Aaron Brooks was the one I hated the most.

Why?

Well, for one, he was an asshole.

When I moved here two years ago, he was dating this girl named Amy. But then I started tutoring her in French cuz, you know…Canadian. And then I guess she fell for me or something, I dunno. But either way, she became his ex-girlfriend when she dumped him for me. So, he was the ex-boyfriend I was always having to worry about. He and his buddies made it their mission to harass me about him getting his pride bruised because someone didn't want him.

I guess it stung so much more for him because he literally had everything. He was one of those. You know the type. The living-breathing-perfect-name-brand-model-type with all the money and all the friends. He had new cars, and cool parties, and was somehow elected king of the school because of it. And I knew it was just because it was high school and every school had its clichés to match its different cliques, but it was just ridiculous with him. I couldn't decide if it was an American thing or what, but everything he did was just so stereotypically macho. It was like he was the personification of every material thing that made him popular—like he was some horrible ripoff of every teen movie jock villain. But honestly, the guy was just a jerk. He was awkward at conversation, had no real substance as a person, and from what I could tell, all the football he played had seriously impaired his brain.

Alright. So. Maybe I could admit that there was a little jealousy on my part. Hell, of course I was jealous. For years, I had to put up with him holding everything he had over me, knowing I could never be more to Amy than he was. It's what killed our relationship in the first placed.

"Walk much, Grizzly Adams?" he spat, looking down on me from his enormous frame before he shoved me aside. "Get out the way before I make you my stepping stool."

"Sure thing, your highness," I smiled falsely as I stuck my foot out for him.

The only thing I really liked about Aaron was how stupid and oblivious he was. That's why he didn't see me stick my foot out for him to trip over into an open locker door. It didn't take a cue for Matt and me to bust out into laughter at his expense.

"Dumbass," I muttered, still chuckling a bit.

"One of these days, Adams," Aaron huffed through clenched teeth and flared nostrils, "I'm gonna kick your—"

"Morning boys," a stern voice interrupted, silencing Aaron immediately.

I looked over to see the aging Doctor Thomas Nathaniel Oliver—former Power Ranger and savior of mankind.

Well, kinda.

At 50, his salt-and-peppered spiky hair and his still-fiery eyes never let anyone doubt that even in his older age, he was probably the most important person on our planet. Well, despite the fact that he gave up the fame and glory of being a Ranger or President of the United States or whatever to be our principal.

"Morning, Doctor Oliver," I said, trying to fight the smile still tugging at my lips.

Aaron glared at me before he grumbled out a "Morning…"

"I take it you're all on your way to class?" our principal asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't dumb.

"Yep," I said comfortably, adding an arrogant grin just to irritate Aaron.

"Good, good; I'd hate to see either one of you in detention so early on in the school year. Wouldn't want you to miss practice."

His knowing eyes swept over the three of us suspiciously as he lingered just a moment.

"From the way our football team's been playing, I'd say he could use all the practice he can get," Matt mumbled, sniggering under his breath.

"Get to class, Mr. Jamison," Doc said in parting, probably too busy for our banter.

Didn't stop him from grinning, though.

I headed into our half-empty classroom for the beginning of our fifth period class with a more-than-spastic teacher, who was already frantically greeting us through fluttered and disheveled papers. She said something about the notes on the screen needing to be copied and quickly ran out the door to try and catch Doctor Oliver. I'm sure she was wondering about her Beekeeper Club's funding being cut. No sooner than she was out of earshot, though, Aaron was already on me like a hound, snarling obscenities at me all until I finally turned on him.

"Are you done? I mean, seriously dude, if you're on the rag…I can always ask Amy if she's got an extra tampon."

His eyes narrowed.

Now, Aaron was pretty plain in my opinion. He was huge, like a half-foot taller than me, but he just had regular old brown hair and a run-of-the-mill square face with too much stubble for a normal high school student. But his eyes were flat out weird. I mean, it was probably my own fault for noticing them, because, as an artist, I studied people's eyes too much to learn how to draw them and bring life to my characters. Bearing that in mind, I was used to different shapes, sizes, and colors of eyes—hell, I even took Advanced Color Theory as a college credit just to have a vocabulary to describe eye color. But his didn't have a matching color. The guy's eyes weren't just blue or green or hazel or whatever; they were all of those colors. At once. Shifting all the time like they couldn't just pick a color. It was weird.

It was like he had the Northern Lights trapped in his irises.

"Fuck. You."

And then, he would speak and I would remember that no matter what colors his eyes were, he was still a dick.

"I'll take a rain check," I shot back through a grin.

I turned around to head to my desk, but he grabbed my arm and spun me right back around to face him and those freaky eyes. "You and that smart ass mou—"

He stopped mid-sentence when I jerked my hand free, my face falling into a tight glare. "Keep your hands off me, jockstrap. Or I swear to God, I will break your hand and shove it so far up your happy ass, you'll have fingernails for teeth." I moved in so that our faces were inches apart. "You got me?"

He paused for a minute, like he was halfway between deciding if I was serious or not. And then there was the forced laughter. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"You wanna find out?"

We lingered face-to-face for a few moments before he brushed past me, his shoulder throwing me slightly off balance as he went to go sniff out his clan of footballers.

It took me a second to cool off before I finally turned to take my seat near my friends. Matt had already lost interest in my routine clash with Aaron and was engaged in a conversation with Grace—his life-long best friend.

Grace, also-known-as Miss Perfect, was the glamorous, jet-setting blond with a guarantee at "most likely to succeed at everything" superlative. Statistically, she was number one in our graduating class of 3,724, with a 4.0 GPA and an SAT of 2390. She was President of the German Club, Key Club, Debate Club, and Student Council, and captain of the Tennis and Track teams. She spoke Japanese, French, German, and Portuguese, and spent her weekends on international flights to Rome and Barcelona and Beijing while modeling "on the side." Like I said: Miss Perfect.

As if to personify juxtaposition, petit brunette Amy, my now ex-girlfriend, sat at the desk next to Grace. We'd only recently broken up at the beginning of the summer when I picked up a job at a restaurant downtown. Between working and dealing with all of my own insecurities, it didn't leave a lot of time for us to really "grow" as a couple. Still, she was my best friend in the true sense of the word. When I was too embarrassed to tell Matt about whatever my problem of the day was, I could tell her anything. And it was like it didn't matter. She just always had my back, so she knew all of my secrets. Sometimes, I wondered if I should have kept some things from her. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have felt obligated to break up with her. Because as beautiful as she was, I didn't think I ever really deserved her. She was upbeat and dry-humored, and had wit that would charm the pants off literally anyone. She was the type of girl to bring home to mom because there was a chance of marrying her someday. I just wasn't ready for that, even though she never asked me to be. She didn't have to, it was just what she deserved.

Next to Grace, she was average, with a small, slender frame and a set of disarming doe eyes. Her baby face was always framed in some different hair style, but it was always the same shade of copper brown that always smelled like chocolate mint.

"What was the score on that one?" she asked jokingly as she looked up at me. I tried not to meet her navy eyes as she pulled out her binder. I knew she was really trying to ignore the problem of me and her ex-boyfriend altogether, but I didn't mention it.

"Not sure," I shrugged, dropping my backpack next to my desk and taking a seat behind her, "something like 4-2: me."

"Oh, careful Patty; either you're losing your touch, or he's getting better," Grace pointed out sarcastically.

Before I could respond, I heard someone roaring my name. Or grunting. Whatever the native dialect among football players was.

"Can I help you?" I groaned. Clearly my power nap in first period hadn't done much for my mood.

"What the fuck is your problem, dude?" snarled the cro magnon brute currently hunched over me.

His name was Jay Owens, someone who was apparently important on our varsity football team. Maybe the quarterback or nickleback or something. The only thing I really knew him as was—wait for it—Aaron's best friend.

"Well, to be honest…you, at the moment," I replied bitterly, exchanging grins with Matt.

"Why do you have to be such a dick?"

"I dunno, why do you have to be so stupid?"

"Watch it," he warned me angrily, thrusting a beefy index finger at my face.

"I'd say you need to watch where you're pointing that finger," I snapped, irritated at the fact that his hands were so close to my face. I hated people touching my face.

"Yeah? Watch me make this finger into a fist and smash it in that maple leaf face, freak."

"Yeah," I shot back, my face going hot with anger, "maybe I should get you some instructions on that. Maybe I can find a real book with lots of colorful pictures so you can understand it." I stood up and smiled at him condescendingly, "I know words aren't really your strong suit, afterall. That would require you to know how to read."

"You're right, man...I'm not so good with words." And then that same index finger made its way to my forehead as he shoved me angrily. "Who needs words with fists like this, though?"

And then, that finger really did transform into a blocky, meaty fist that introduced itself to my nose at about fifty miles per hour. I had forgotten Jay wasn't Aaron. He had a much shorter temper and wasn't afraid of a fight because his parents were "generous" contributors to the school's donation funding. I only remembered it when I landed back in my seat with blood pouring from my nostrils.

With rage blinding my already blurry vision, I lunged at him wrecklessly, knocking him into several desks that skidded out of the way of our colliding bodies. My ears barely registered the shocked gasps all around me, the only thing I knew was I needed to beat Jay.

I needed to hurt him.

As we fell to the ground, I managed to saddle him and let my fists lay into his face. I felt his teeth slice open the skin around my knuckles, and heard feet scuffling around the room to get a better look at the spur of the moment brawl. In my distraction, I allowed him the opportunity to toss my smaller body off him, and he was at my throat in seconds.

I slipped out from under him and looked up to see his cavalry gearing up. Aaron and two of their football buddies, Mark Sanders and Kevin Gerringer, were prowling toward me hungrily—like football jocks just craved the blood of anyone not part of their tribe.

That's when Matt came in like lightning, pushing them back and breaking it up as much as possible. He was holding Kevin back but "Sanders" and Aaron were still on the hunt.

I wasn't sure when, but Amy and Grace appeared out of nowhere, screaming and swearing at Sanders like they had lost their minds. Damn sure worked, though, because both the oversized douchebags stopped dead in their tracks. I'm not quite sure which one of Amy's various, vulgar insults made him flip, but all of a sudden, Sanders decided he'd heard enough and shoved into her. Before I could even say or do anything, though, Grace jumped in and started straight wailing on him.

A quick movement out the corner of my eye let me know Jay was charging me, though, so, out of sheer instinct, I lifted my foot and immediately felt his stomach give way to my size-12 shoe flawlessly. And I'll admit, the impact resonating in a squishing huff of air was satisfying to some extent.

"What in the world is going on here?!"

Doctor Oliver was standing at the doorway of Mrs. Brockman's classroom, his eyes even wider behind his glasses.

"Aw, shit…" Aaron groaned.

My thoughts exactly. For once, we actually agreed on something.

—1—

"I mean, do you even think before you act?" my mom yelled over the phone.

I cringed at her tone, holding the receiver a good two inches from my ear.

"I can't believe you, Patrick Thomas. After all of the things I've gone through to get you into this school, you just go and throw it away for some stupid fight! Have you been taking your medicine?"

"Yes, mom," I answered, irritation drenching my words. ADHD didn't have anything to do with the fight.

"Then what the hell would possess you to do something like this? I mean, seriously, Patrick, I can't deal with all of this again. This is not going to be a repeat of Toronto, do you understand me? I've sacrificed too much for you to ruin your record, my job, or anything else that we have in this city. You need to remember control."

"But mom, it seriously wasn't my fault! If you woulda seen what—"

"It's never your fault! It's never you that's in the wrong. And I'm, quite honestly, tired of hearing it. You have no sense of responsibility, and I'll be damned if any kid of mine is going to go through life making excuses and blaming shit on other peope. You got me?"

I swore I gritted my teeth so hard it felt uplike they were going to splinter off each other. As much as it stung to have my past thrown up in my face like it was some sort of crime that I was going to spend forever trying to repent and atone for, I knew she was right. As usual. Tough love.

"Listen, I have to get back to work, I can't afford to get in trouble because of this. Tell Doctor Oliver that I'll be in touch with him tomorrow morning."

"Alright."

"Bye."

"Bye, mom."

"Hey." Her voice went noticeably softer.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

I hung the phone up and slowly made my way over to the group of kids that had been involved in the brawl, my ears burning bright red—the only possible way I could blush.

Once Doctor Oliver had broken up the melee, we all immediately stopped what we were doing and tried to make ourselves presentable. But there was no saving the situation. And every single one of us were ordered to follow him to his office in complete and total silence. It was one of the most humiliating moments of my life, that walk down the hallway while students peered out of the classroom windows. Since moving to Reefside, I had never really been in a fight—at least, not while at school. Back home, that wasn't so much the case, so I took karate to learn to defend myself against the "bullies" that seemed to love harassing me for being the weird poor kid. And Jay? Jay had just brought everything tumbling in on me, and I let my anger cloud out all the dicipline I had struggled to learn over the years. He had forced me to lose control.

If I thought I was disappointed, though, my mom was even more so, despite the fact that Doctor Oliver's punishment was somewhat lenient: detention for a week and 40 hours of community service each. If my mom had let me get a word in edge wise, she would have realized my "record" wasn't in any sort of jeopardy. I just wasn't going to have any free time.

So during detention, I drew. I didn't talk to anyone, I didn't look at anyone, I just drew; and that was what I was good at. Anything that resembled a human, I could draw it. All I needed was a pencil and paper, and I'd go to town. In the days of my youth, my mom had encouraged me to be an artist, but I knew that was impractical. As much as I loved drawing, I could never let it become more than a hobby. I had bigger and better contributions to offer the galaxy than a few well-drawn pictures worth little more than the cheap paper that brought them to life. That didn't stop me from doing it in all of my classes, though—to the point where I got in trouble more for that than I did for getting into any fights or whatever.

I think it was a way to escape reality for me. Mom had a good job now, but when I was growing up in Toronto, she had to work two shitty jobs to keep me clothed, fed, and sheltered, not to mention paying babysitters until I was old enough to fend for myself in kindergarden. Needless to say, that didn't leave a lot of extra money for video games, internet, or cool toys and computers. So, I made up my own world in my pictures.

It seemed to work out just fine for me.

Before I knew it, detention was over and I heard the clattering of feet and desks scraping the ground in a hurry to escape the school.

"Need a ride?" Grace asked, walking up beside me as she adjusted her stylish bag that doubled as her book bag.

"Uh, yeah sure," I said, smiling gratefully. "I was just gonna walk, but I guess a ride wouldn't hurt."

"I'm not gonna let you walk thirty minutes just to get home," she said, like the idea in and of itself was ridiculous. "Not when I have the nicest wheels around."

She winked at me, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder like she was just the best damn thing in town.

In a way, I guess she kind of was.

We were mostly silent on our way to the senior parking lot, making our way through the thick row of trees that separated it in twos. We both had a lot on our minds, obviously, and even as we were walking, Grace was texting up a storm. I didn't realize how many meetings and appointments she'd probably missed by being sentenced to detention with the rest of us. And suddenly, I felt even guiltier for my split-second decision making.

"Hey," I said to her before it slipped my mind, "sorry about getting you involved."

She looked at me, shocked. "Are you kidding me? You were only defending yourself."

"Well, yeah, but it sucks that you got detention with me. This is gonna look terrible on your record. You've never even missed a day of school, let alone served detention."

She shrugged. "I dunno, I kinda like it. It changes my reputation a bit." Then she laughed and added, "Grace Eden: Badass."

I let out a burst of laughter with her as her all black SUV-truck hybrid loomed into view. "That definitely has a ring to it."

"Right?" she agreed. Then she changed the topic. "So how are things with you and Amy? Still awkward?"

I rolled my eyes. "Things were never awkward, Grace. She just needs some space."

"You broke up with her," she felt the need to remind me, "how is she the one that needs space?"

"Well…maybe because I hurt her? You don't think I know how pissed she is that her relationship with Aaron affected ours more than it should have?"

She made a face, that one that says "well, I know you're right but I'm going to frown and shake my head like you're not making sense and don't understand what I'm trying to say."

"I'm just trying to do exactly what she asked and give her some space," I said, done with the conversation. "Are you hungry, at all? I figured the least I can do is buy you lunch or so—"

I was cut off by an earthshaking sonic boom that seemed to split the skies themselves. I covered my ears in pain, but a delayed force of wind slammed me into Grace's car with all the force of a stampede. I felt like I'd been tackled by Jay.

"What was that?" Grace yelled over the sound of fire as we picked ourselves up off the ground.

"I dunno!" I yelled back, waving the smoke from my face. "That sounded like an explosion; and judging by the smoke…I'm willing to bet something blew up."

She frowned.

Right: note to self—never use sarcasm in a catastrophic situation with Grace.

She pulled out her phone worriedly, glancing at the direction of the blast. "I'm calling the police."

She was being logical, and I guess it was good to know one of us would be; I, on the other hand, nodded before I took off toward the commotion. I'm not really sure what made me do it, other than sheer curiosity. It wasn't every day that an explosion went off at school, so…yeah. I was curious. I just wasn't ready for what I saw when I made my way through the trees.

There, getting the shit beat out of them by a female ninja dressed up in white and black armor, were Aaron and Jay. Not too far behind them, Sanders and Kevin weren't doing much better with a brutish, blue-skinned alien. He was tossing them around like ragdolls.

"What's going—" Grace stopped halfway through her sentence as she arrived on my side and saw the scene firsthand.

"I've got to help them," I said mainly to myself.

I started to jog off when Grace grabbed my arm. "Where are you going? You'll be killed!" She jerked her thumb to Aaron and his friends and added, "And they've already tried to do that once today!"

"I don't care, no one deserves to die like that," I said angrily as I ripped away from her. "Not even them."

Before I knew it, I was flying through the air in a jump kick that nailed Ninja Lady right in the side of her head. She toppled into blue-boy and he growled loudly in dismay as his yellow eyes locked onto me.

I looked down at Aaron, who winced as he looked at his bloody elbow.

"Run!" I yelled at him and Jay, both sitting dazedly on their asses.

They looked at me, each other, and jumped up into a sprint.

"I don't think so!" Ninja Lady screamed.

I took a second to look back at her, and instantly regretted it. I saw her reach for her belt, and then she flung a swarm of little metal pieces our way. No sooner did they leave her fingers did they light up with a deadly red energy—like little laser buzzsaws.

"Awwww SHIT," I groaned, "pick up the pace! Head for the trees!"

But we were still a good 20 meters from the trees. So I grabbed their shirts and yanked them toward the nearest cover—Aaron's truck.

As soon as we ducked, I laid in with the questions.

"What the hell is going on?! Where'd this crazy bitch come from?"

"I don't fucking know, she won't leave us alone!" Jay half screamed through foggy deep breaths. It almost sounded like he was about to cry. "She just-just keeps saying something about an 'heir' and some network,"

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by the unmistakeable sound of metal slamming into his truck—little dings in the body, followed by about 2 or 3 seconds of buzzing and whirring as her laser shuriken slowly ground to a halt.

Shakily, I took a deep and calming breath, then risked a look under the truck to find out where our attackers were.

I swore. "The blue one is coming this way. I don't see ninja bitch anywhere."

"Fuck, man, Sanders and Kevin are probably dead, man!" Jay cried. "What the hell do we do?"

I looked again to see what had become of Jay's douche bag football buddies. "They're fine," I said to Jay, "A little banged up, but they're alive, about 10 meters away laying in the dirt. If I buy you some time, you think you could grab them and make a break for the trees to find Grace?"

"Yeah...yeah, I can do that."

"Jolly Green Giant," I called to Aaron, "you got your car keys with you?"

He frowned but nodded.

"You up for a game of bumper cars with this blue freak?"

He sighed and shook his head slowly, like he knew this was a bad idea but our only hope. "My parents are gonna kill me, but yeah...let's do this."

Once again, I took a breath, and tried to remember all the years of martial arts training I'd had—tried to remember all the calming techniques and staying cool under pressure. Sensei called it overpowering the fight or flight instinct.

"Alright...get ready." And with that, I stood up and shouted at the blue behemoth of a creature, who paid me little to no attention. "I said over here, Steroid Smurf!"

"Out of the way, boy. You are of no consequence nor importance to us."

I looked over to my right, where the ninja chick seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Oh yeah?"

My stalling was working. Aaron was climbing into the passenger side of his truck, and Jay had snuck out behind Steroid Smurf to get Sanders and Kevin. So far, so good.

"Stand aside, child. We do not wish to harm you."

"You threw laser shuriken at me! What do you mean you 'do not wish to harm' me?"

"They were merely meant to immobilize our quarry. You happened to be in the line of fire."

"And who, exactly, is your quarry?"

"The Eyr and Thomas's network link. I assume you know nothing of either. Now," she drew a blade from its sheath on the small of her back, "stand aside. Or you will find yourself immobilized. Permanently."

Okay, so, why exactly was I doing this again? To protect Jay and Aaron? What had they done for me lately except almost get me expelled? Was it really worth it to endanger my own life for two people who gave less than two shits about me?

And then I remembered what mom had said about responsibility.

"Piss off," I snapped at her. "There's nobody named Thomas here, and there are no heirs of anything."

"That was your warning," she said lethally as she moved into a fighting position.

This was it. This was what I had trained for all my life, right? To defend myself? To use my abilities only when threatened, right? I just needed to keep calm. And it came eerily natural to me. My vision seemed to clear just a little like it was staving off the tunnel vision, and I felt my heart rate settle as I, too, slid into a kata.

I saw her eyebrow twitch in either mockery or approval, but then she lashed out with a vicious backhanded slice with her katana. I hopped back, my feet sifting through the dirt as I regained my footing and kicked her katana out of her hand. I heard her let a shocked sound out as she watched her weapon fly through the air, and while she was distracted, I spun into a roundhouse kick that nailed her in the jaw. Full of pride, I watched her body spin into the ground as she coughed at the dust and dirt.

"NOW!" I roared, my head whipping in Aaron's direction.

I heard his engine rev up, but the blue brute was smarter than he looked and knew what we were planning. With a nasty, gnarly grin, he spun around and grabbed Aaron's truck by the bumper before it could even get into drive. I knew he was gunning his gas when I heard his tires spinning, but he wasn't going anywhere. At all.

"Cute," blue boy mocked laughingly, his massive hands beginning to crunch Aaron's truck like it was a soda can.

"Dude, bail!"

I didn't need to tell him twice.

He jumped out of the driver door and landed in a sort of haphazard roll that made him look like a ball of dirt.

And just for good measure, the monster lifted Aaron's truck up almost effortlessly and tossed it into the air before he raised his hand and fired some sort of blast at it.

Aaron's truck blew up like a firework, raining debris all over the parking lot.

"You shouldn't be so easily distracted."

I spun around, but it was too late. I had forgotten about my ninja opponent, and now she was nearly on top of me. I attempted another kick but she grabbed my foot and swapped a kick with my open abdomen. And then she let off another one right in my chest that made me feel like my lungs had been crushed by a truck. Finally, like she had just a shred of mercy somewhere in that black and white armor, she took the leg she still held and slammed me to the ground.

I groaned as I hit the gravel. Hard. My head rang like it was just some kind of skeletal bell, and my knee ached like she had turned my whole leg into jello.

I thought she was done with me. I could barely see her through my teary vision, until I saw her foot come in for one more kick.

I rolled just barely, but it wasn't enough to stop her from planting her lower shin in the small of my back, and I felt the spikes from her armor dig into my flesh.

"Pathetic," she spat as she stepped over me, the gravel crunching under her boots. She seemed to be making her way back toward Aaron, now.

"Now," she sighed, "Where is Thomas?"

Thomas? Seriously, who was this Thomas? Unless...

"I already told you, I don't know," Aaron said pitifully, panting and holding his shoulder.

Her katana was still on the ground, just out of arm's reach. I had no choice. It was the only way to keep her from killing us all.

I willed the fragile bones in my body to pick themselves up off the ground, and slowly but surely, they complied. I fumbled for the sword.

"My patience isn't my best quality boy; you'd better tell me where he is or I—"

"I'm right here," I boasted, driving her own blade into her back.

She turned around slowly, her eyes wide in shock.

I was on so much adrenaline, so terrified that she still wasn't done, that I panicked. I kicked at her face, throwing her off balance, and then I kicked at her legs and swept them out from under her until she fell to the ground, motionless.

Aaron stared at me in horror. "Did you…you…killed her?"

"I didn't have a choice!" I argued bewilderedly, staring at him like he'd lost his mind. "She was gonna kill us all!"

"She's dead, man!"

I wanted to slap him. I realized he'd just been through a traumatic experience, but seriously?

"MOVE!" I yelled at him, my voice just as gravelly as the parking lot.

He needed no further instruction.

We were almost to the forest, blue boy hot on our trail and moving way faster than I thought was possible for someone his size. We were seconds from the trees, and I knew we'd be safe if we could find some cover. Almost there!

"You thought you could stab me with my own sword and get away with it?"

I slid to a stop, gravel skidding around my shoes.

"She's alive?" Aaron screamed. "How the..."

"Seriously? And again with the vanishing?!"

"Yeah, that's getting old," Aaron mumbled.

She smirked and drew a new sword from between her two hands, lights sparking in her palms like they were some sort of portal for weapons.

"Any last words?" she taunted.

I heard the unmistakable roar of an engine as Grace's black truck burst through the path, slamming into Ninja Lady and sending her flying through the air.

"Clearly she doesn't lift," Aaron joked.

I couldn't help but laugh, either out of sheer relief or out of delirium.

"Well I do!" bellowed the ninja's blue bodyguard as he trampled onto the scene.

Grace was a good three meters away, too far for Aaron and I to make it without the beast just trashing Grace's car too. I saw her face behind the wheel, pale and ashen in fear, but determined. But where was Jay?

Before I knew it, the blue guy was flying through the air just like his partner, landing in the burning remains of Aaron's truck. I spun around and saw Amy's silver sedan skidding into the lot, and Jay behind the wheel of it. Sanders, Kevin, and what looked like Matt were all crammed in the back seats, and an awe-stricken Amy stared out the passenger window with wide eyes.

"Get in, get in, GET IN!" Grace shouted frantically through open windows.

Before ninja girl could get another chance to appear in front of us, we both took off for Grace's suv and jumped in the back seat. She didn't even wait for either of us to shut the door before she was peeling out of the lot at top speed.

As we pulled out, I could see the smoke rising from Aaron's fried truck with no sign of the brute who destroyed it in the first place. For a second, I felt sorry for my backseat passenger, but I had more important things to think about.

What was that all about?