Chapter 8: The training still continues.

"Vicky? Vicky, are you all right?" Jasylhan snapped his fingers in front of his wife's face.

"Hm?" Victoria finally responded. "Oh, what is it?"

"You've spaced out for a bit," he said worryingly. "What're you thinking about?".

"Oh, it's nothing," she finished her coffee. "I... I was thinking about Jalyn," she tapped her cup with her index finger. "I miss him so much. I can't help but worry about him."

"Honey, it's only been a month," he smiled softly.

"I know, but..." she put the empty cup aside, "it just feels so empty in here without him."

"Tell me about it," he chuckled. "I didn't have time to ask before due to a business trip, but did you speak to his teacher?"

"Yes, she said that he's behaving well, but he doesn't seem to socialize with other kids and mostly just sits all by himself."

"Looks like he's having a hard time making friends," Jasyl concluded.

"I think he just doesn't want to have any," Victoria said.

"Maybe, but he needs them, just like any other kid his age does."

"Do you actually think he can find any?" she asked. "In a society where every parent tells their children to stay away from people like Jalyn?"

"Hey, being optimistic won't hurt," he shrugged. "Besides, I just know that there's someone out there who doesn't care about him being..." he snapped his fingers repeatedly, trying to find a better word.

"A quirkie?" she asked.

"Sounds kinda lame, but yeah," he said. "Someone like Max, for example," he chuckled. "Sometimes I think he's doing a better job at being his father than I do."

"Jealous, huh?" she smiled.

He laughed at it, "Who knows?" he stretched. "They seem way too close for my liking."

"You're being silly, darling," she smiled.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Hey, how about we'll go visit him on his birthday? We should take Dallas with us as well, the poor dog's been down ever since he left."

"Now that's a great idea!" she exclaimed. "Any ideas for a present?"

"Hm..." he grabbed his chin. "How about a taser?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Jasyl, no!" Victoria exclaimed.

"Just kiddin'," he chuckled, "let's just buy something that a boy his age would want."

"I don't think he'll be interested in something like that," she sounded sad. "He's way too mature for his age, and it disturbs me."

"This was bound to happen after what he's been through, though," Jasylhan continued reading his newspaper. "I'm sure we'll figure something out about the pre-" he stopped, his face suddenly darkened.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Victoria asked nervously.

He gave her the newspaper. There was a murder article. Another murder by the same person. As gory as the previous six.

"Dear God," she covered her mouth. "Which one is this? The third time this month?"

"What the hell is happening in this city?" he spoke rather to himself than her. "It used to be so quiet before."

"Why won't the police find this maniac? It shouldn't be too hard to track them down, is it?"

"They're either very good at hiding or very careful not to leave any traces," he sighed. "Thank God Jalyn's with Max, it's way safer there than here."

He'll face people like this in the future, isn't he? Victoria thought. Max, please, make sure he'll be ready for it.

Within a month Jalyn made some serious progress. To start with, his hand-to-hand combat skills grew drastically. Max finally started taking their sparrings seriously and attacking full-force, which also resulted in his reaction sharpening due to constant dodging and counterattacking, and getting hit really hard if failed to do so, earning some light bruises and learning how to take a punch properly in the process. Although he still won most of the time due to the high mobility provided by his quirk.

His melee weapon proficiency also improved, causing his win-to-loss ratio to slowly even up by that time, as he managed to outsmart Max time and time again, redirecting his hits to pierce his mentor's defense. Whether Max purposefully was allowing him to win or not is a question that was bothering him for a while, but, nonetheless, he accomplished a lot in that area.

Max has been participating only in sparrings lately due to some work he had in the city, so Jalyn dealt with the rest of the exercises by himself.

He increased his running -more like leaping- distance up to 100 kilometers and his record, for now, was a bit more than an hour and a half. He could've run better but he still had some problems with balancing his legs.

Practicing with wall-crawling resulted in him moving on the walls and ceiling faster, but he still wasn't fast enough, so he needed more training in that department. He also tried to sleep while attached to a ceiling to see if he's able to cling to surfaces while unconscious, such skill would be a lifesaver if some unpredictable shit happened in the future.

Faceplanting into the floor in his sleep was an indicator that he needed to practice more.

Max recently taught him how to throw weapons properly, it wasn't as hard as he thought, so he quickly became somewhat skillful with it.

His real accomplishment, however, was shooting. Within one month he greatly improved his aim and firing technique. Every time he was on a shooting range, he managed to hit the dummy straight in the head with each shot, and the moment the empty magazine left the gun he immediately picked it up with his tendril and started refilling it while the other tendril slid spare magazine inside the gun.

Who would've thought that additional "limbs" would make reloading so much easier? he thought sarcasticallyas he walked towards the elevator, finishing today's training. Wonder if Max's got something new for me. All of that is getting kinda dull.

"Oh, hey there, kiddo, finished already?" Max asked the boy once he entered the common room. "I've got an idea for the next step in your training: stealth. Whatcha think about it?"

"That's... that's actually a great idea," he grabbed his chin. "It'll be irreplaceable in certain situations, and if I'll use my quirk properly, I'll be able to dispatch of my enemies very quickly and without casualties," his eyes were slightly green. "When are we starting?"

"At dusk," the older man said, "it's not like you can hide properly on sunlight."

"But what will we do now?" the boy wondered.

"Hm," he scratched his nose. "Oh!" and snapped his fingers. "How about I'll teach you how to speak on the sign language, might get handy in the future."

"Wouldn't it be better if I studied it myself from the book or something?" he asked. "I don't think we'll be able to practice together properly since you're mostly in the city lately. Come to think of it, what are you doing there anyway?"

"More and more people are coming to the hospital recently, and my help is needed there, you know," he looked slightly irritated but did his best to hide it. "Wait here for a moment, I've had a copy of 'Sign Language for Dummies' somewhere," he grinned.

"Is there some sorta subtle hint I'm missing, Max?" he snarked.

He spent the next couple of hours reading the book. To his own surprise, he got sucked into it pretty quickly.

Once the sun went down, Max closed all the shutters and turned most of the lights off and armed himself with a flashlight.

"Okay, kiddo," he clapped his hands, "let's begin your training. A couple of hints: first of all, you must move while crouched, since the shorter you are, the harder it is to notice you. Second: watch your every step and be as quiet as possible, you give yourself away, the chances you'll get your ass handed to you will grow drastically. Third: use your brain, try to read every possible outcome, every possible route your enemies might take, look for the most fitting path, got it?"

"Yep," the boy said.

"Great," Max cleared his throat. "Your next trial is to move unseen. Stay in the shadow, avoid the light. You must reach the stairs to the second floor without attracting notice," he finished with a somewhat satisfied look.

"Is that another video game reference?" the boy raised an eyebrow.

"I won't confirm nor deny," he turned around and walked to the center of the room, covering his face. "Once I'll count to ten, we'll start this exercise. I'll see you, you'll start from the very beginning, now go to the front door."

And there he stood, in a 600 square meter area with almost no walls, a long sofa, a small table and darkness being his covers, an incredibly creaky floor as his main inconvenience, and the sixty-two-years old man with sharp reflexes, near-perfect reaction and blindingly bright flashlight as his opponent that was now moving from one side of the room to the other.

He got caught twice because his steps were louder than he expected, so he tried to move as quietly and slowly as possible. There also was that creaky piece of shit floor that revealed his location to Max at least seven times. Max's reaction didn't help either, as he caught the kid three more times, somehow noticing him in the dark even without a flashlight, his grin growing wider each time.

Then he remembered one little detail: there were no restrictions on using a quirk, so he just pulled himself up to the ceiling and crawled all the way towards the stairs.

He whistled, drawing Max's attention.

"Heh, I expected you to do it sooner, pal," he patted Jalyn's head, "still good enough, though."

"You know, I feel like I'm cheating," the boy said. "My quirk makes things too easy."

"Kid, your quirk is the only advantage you'll have over the pricks you'll face when you'll start your crime-fighting crusade. Besides, there's no shame in using something that was given you by nature," he then gave a warm smile, "and I'm sure that no one else would've utilized that quirk any better if they were in your place."

"It's just..." he scratched his mangled forearm. "There are so many people doing their absolute best to become stronger, faster than they already are. And then there's me, a seven-year-old that's lifting a car and running 100 kilometers within two hours with no effort," he looked his mentor in the eyes, "don't you think that it's unfair? Right now I'm stronger than some people will ever be in their whole life."

"Life is unfair, pal," Max said. "Some people get lucky, while others don't. Bad shit constantly happens with people who don't deserve it, while absolute jerkwads are living like kings. Sometimes it's better not to think about that unfairness at all," he yawned and stretched. "Now, how about we'll call it a night, eh? I'm kinda tired."

"Go ahead, I'll have a snack and train for a little while," he massaged his neck.

"Say, kid," the older man stopped on his way upstairs, "do you feel like going to a beach on a weekend? I'd like to swim for a bit."

"Thanks, but I'll pass, not a big fan of water," he went to the fridge to take some pizza and juice box.

"How come? You've been swimming for years now."

"I haven't swum ever since I was kicked out," Jalyn shrugged.

"Wait a second, you've been kicked out from swimming too?" Max sounded surprised. "Since when? How? Is it because you have a quirk?"

"Not quite, a little accident occurred, that's it," the boy was now chewing on a pizza. "One of the kids there thought it was a great idea to hold my head under the water for some time and I accidentally broke his jaw."

"You broke someone's jaw?!" Max exclaimed.

"I was aiming for his nose," he drank a bit of his juice.

"And you're the one who was kicked out after that drowning attempt?"

"Yep," Jalyn poured more juice in the glass with his tendril. "He just played the victim card and said, well, wrote, broken jaw and all, that I was the one who hit first. And since the trainer was looking for an opportunity to get rid of me for quite some time, he just went on with it," he said nonchalantly. "So yeah, not a fan of water."

"Huh, that's fucked up," he crossed his arms and then turned around. "Welp, I'll be going now. Night, kiddo."

"Uh-huh," the boy said, as he put the glass in the sink. So, he grabbed his chin, I guess I'll make one more lap and then try to sleep on a wall, I gotta practice more with that stuff, it might save my life at some point, he headed towards an elevator. Maybe I'll practice with shooting as well, while I'm down there.

An alarm rang.

Aww, that was such a nice dream, Max thought, slowly getting up. Eh, fuck it. Hope I'll see it later.

He got up, stretched his hands up, touched his toes and slowly did the splits, and then did fifty push-ups absolutely effortlessly. Heh, still got it, eh?

He headed towards the wardrobe and put on a white shirt and black shorts and went to look in the mirror. He looked at the photo of him and Karaesim that was attached to it and smiled, reminiscing of good-old-days.

Welp, let's check with the schedule... he grabbed his chin. First I'll get my ass kicked in usual sparring, then I'll probably get my ass kicked in sparring with weapons, after that I've gotta show him how to shoot from a shotgun, and then I'll go to the city, he picked his nose. Yep, think that's it, now it's time to wake him up.

"Kiddo, get your ass up! It's... training... time..." he laid face down on the floor in the middle of the room, snoring lightly. That moron tried to sleep on a ceiling again? Max facepalmed. "Hey, Flamie, quit dozing."

"Don't call me that," Jalyn slowly stood up.

Oh, I'll definitely will.

"Go wash up, and we'll start," he ruffled the boy's hair. "I've got a surprise for ya."

"Oh?" his eyes were slightly green. "Okay then, I'll meet you at the basement."

"Okey-dokey," Max said as he headed towards the elevator, quickly glancing at fire quirk user's scars on the way out of the room. I can't even imagine how painful it was, he frowned a bit, poor kid.

"So, what do you think, Max?" Jalyn asked after they've finished their sparring with weapons. "Any progress?"

"Eh, don't worry about it, you're natural, kid," he was panting lightly. "All you need to do is to keep practicing."

"You were talking about some kinda surprise earlier," the boy reminded him.

"Yeah-yeah, I remember it, I'm not that old, kid," Gotta fuck with him for a bit.

"That's not what I..."

"Relax, pal," he chuckled. "I'm kidding. Now go to the shooting range, I'll be right back," gunshots were heard from behind as he walked away.

So, which shotgun should I give him? he thought, looking at his small arsenal. He easily shot from .500 Magnum, so recoil is no problem at all, he scratched his head. Maybe AA-12 should suffice for now?

"Max? Did you fall asleep in there?" he heard an impatient shout.

"Patience, boy," he said jokingly. "I'll be there in a minute," gunshots resumed. Eh, fuck it, it's not like he'll use these anyway, he exited the room

Jalyn was swiftly shooting the targets, reloading with that fancy technique of his. An idea came. Let's check his reaction, he threw the gun at him and called him, "Catch!"

The boy quickly glanced over his shoulder and shot a tendril from his neck, grabbing the shotgun. He placed the pistol on a table, turned around picked it from the tendril.

He inspected the gun. "Didn't you say that we'll be practicing with shotguns this month?"

"And what do you think is that?" Max sarcastically.

"...An assault rifle?" Jalyn tilted his head. "It just doesn't look... shotgun-ish. Doesn't they, like, have some sorta pump thingies?"

"Automatic shotguns don't need these," he said. "Lemme show you how it works, and I'll be going."

"Where?" the boy asked.

"I've some business in the city," Max explained. "Now..." he took the gun from boy's arms. "Here's how it's done..."

He was in a car, driving on an empty road.

Man, it feels kinda lonely here, he thought, lighting a cigarette. Heh, kid's really giving his all in those sparring, isn't he, Max rubbed his upper arm, still sore after Jalyn's roundhouse kick. He's too fucking strong for a seven-years-old, dear God.

He turned the radio on. The beautiful sound of country music filled the car.

Ahh, nothing's better for a ride than good-old Johnny Cash, he tapped his finger to the beat of the song. I probably should introduce Jalyn to this genre, I bet he'll like it.

Half an hour later he saw the city in the distance.

Gotta stop by hospital first and see if that guy's okay, he thought about the man in his mid-twenties that was brought in a couple of days ago, he was horribly beaten, his left leg was broken in three places and the right one was bent the other way around, almost all of his teeth were missing alongside his nails, his kneecaps were busted, his jaw was crushed, his stomach was slit open, all of his fingers were dislocated. He was covered in casts and bandages by the time Max was done with him. He sighed. What kind of sick fuck would do something like that to a kid, for Christ's sake? How the hell he was even alive with those wounds?

His eyes were wide when he entered that guy's hospital room. "What the-"

"Oh, good day, Dr. Krasnov," the patient stood up and greeted Max with a cheerful voice as if nothing ever happened. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"How are you standing?" Max asked, the look of absolute confusion on his face. "You were completely messed up two days ago."

"It's just..." he scratched his neck, looking a bit ashamed, "I have... an abnormality. It allows me to heal quicker than any normal human but it exhausts me in exchange."

"You're feeling better now?" the man looked surprised by the genuine worry Max was showing to him. "No pains? No complaints?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Doc" he smiled brightly. "I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me."

"Eh, don't mention it, buddy, I was just doing my job," Max smiled back. "So, whatcha gonna do now?"

"Well, I think I'll leave the country," he said. "I was hesitant for some time, but the last incident showed me how dangerous some people are in here. I've saved up enough money, so I'm leaving for Japan in a couple of days."

"Good luck to you then, ..." Max reached for a hand-shake.

"It's Sergey," he returned it. "Sergey Zdravov."

"Good luck to you, Sergey. Have a great life."

"Thanks," he put his backpack on his shoulder and left the room.

What a polite kid, Max thought as he went for the car. Okay, now I gotta hit the mall and check my order.

He reached the mall in no time and went inside the building, leaving his car in a parking lot.

"Hey, fellas," he greeted the personnel of the store upon his entrance.

"Oh, hi there, Max," a young blue-eyed woman with blonde, waist-long hair braided in a ponytail greeted him back. "You're here to see dad?"

"I have time to spare if you wanna chat," he said with a friendly smile.

"I wish I had something interesting to tell you about, but alas, my life is as boring as it gets," she shrugged.

"Aww, come on, girly, it can't be that bad," Max placed his hands on his hips. "No interesting stories about your adventures with friends?"

A glint of sadness shined in her eyes, "It's hard for 'abnormals' to make friends, Max."

"I can introduce you to my friend, he has a quirk too," he smiled sympathetically. "Who knows, maybe you two will get along."

"A 'quirk'?" she raised an eyebrow.

"That's how he calls abnormalities. Sounds way better don't you think?"

"I can't disagree," she shrugged. "I'll think about your offer, by the way."

"Okey-dokey," he clapped his hands. "So, where's Mark?"

"I'm here!" a bit obese balding man in his forties came out of the storage room. "Long time no see, Max. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Just wanted to know if there're any updates on my order," Max said, examining the shop's assortment.

"There's nothing to worry about, pal," Mark sat behind the counter. "Are you sure you can afford it though? Wolfram-steel alloy is pretty pricey, you know."

"Eh, don't worry about it, buddy, I've got the money," he waved his hand dismissively. "When will it arrive?"

"A couple of weeks tops," he said.

"Now that's just perfect," Max said. "So, how's your business?"

"Could've been much better, to be honest, I don't have a lot of clients recently, income's getting lower every month, it's getting hard to collect enough money for protection," he sighed. "Heh, 'protection' my ass, more like racketeering if you ask me."

"I get it that going to cops is useless?"

"Damn right it is," Mark said. "This city is going to hell, damn it. I would've just closed that shop and move but I have a family to feed, so there's not much choice."

"Dad, why won't we just use my quirk to find some money?" his daughter asked worryingly.

"I won't abuse your power for my benefit, sweetie," he softly looked at his daughter. "You don't need to worry, everything's gonna be alright."

Max was standing there in silence for a couple of seconds, looking for something to say, but

"Welp, it was nice to talk to you guys, but I've got some things to do. So, yeah, see ya, Mark," he looked at the girl, "Bye, Christy," he headed towards the exit. "Have a nice day, fellas."

"Bye, Max, you're my favorite customer," Mark waved him goodbye.

"And by 'favorite' you mean 'the only one'?" the girl smirked. "Why did you lie, though?"

"If I told him the truth how it is, he'd offer his help, and I don't want to involve others in our family's problems," he scratched his cheek.

"Jeez, dad, you can be really stubborn sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes, I know," he smiled. "It's not that bad of quality if you think about it."

Okay, that one's taken care of, Max thought upon exiting the mall. Next stop: pizzeria. Gotta buy something with mushrooms for Flamie, pepperoni for myself, and a pineapple pizza just to see his face, he glanced at his watch. Welp, it'll be too late for movie night when I'll be back since he'll most likely just exhaust himself to sleep, so I guess I'll buy snacks for tomorr-

"Good evening, sir," some guy in a trenchcoat approached him. "Having a nice day, I suppose?"

"You could say that, bud," he said carefully. Who the fuck is that, some street merchant? "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Quite frankly, yes," he offered Max a business card. "You see, I represent a certain group you might've heard of: 'Anti-Abnormal Society', and we are currently looking for more people. There is a set of benefits for our members, so you won't regret joining in, I can assure you."

"You're right, I've heard of that group," he said with a smile on his face and a mix of disgust and anger in his eyes. "I've also heard about your 'group activities'."

"Oh, that's... heh..." a promoter was getting uncomfortable. "That's quite, eh, convenient. S-so, what do you think about it?"

"I think you need to get the fuck outta my sight before I'll shove that card so deep into your ass it'll poke out of your mouth," he said in a cold, menacing tone.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," he quickly backed off.

Tch, are those fuckers recruiting people off the streets now? Okay, fuck it, pizza time, Max calmed down a bit. The pizzeria's a couple of blocks away. Go there, buy pizza, get some snacks at the grocery, go home. Simple? Simple, he got inside the car.

By the time he exited the pizzeria, most of the stores were already closed, so Max put the pizza in the car and decided to look for the open one and have some fresh air in the process.

Time surely flies quickly, eh? he was strolling up the street, looking around.

He heard some commotion in the nearby alleyway and went to check it out. Oh, come the fuck on! hesighed at the sight of four punks beating the crap out of some poor guy. Heh, Flamie wouldn't like it if I left that guy with these morons, would he?

"Fellas!" he cheerfully called out for the quartet with his arms wide open. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Huh?" one of them, the guy in a tracksuit grunted. "The fuck do you want?"

"Oh, don't mind me," he defensively raised his hands. "I just saw a group of wild monkeys and wanted to take a better look."

"Did that old fart just call us monkeys?" one of the hooligans asked.

"Aww, you figured it out!" Max cooed mockingly. "Good boy, you want a banana?" he kept distracting them while simultaneously signaling their victim to run the fuck away.

He quickly stood up and run in the opposite direction, accidentally bumping into a dumpster on his way and drawing the attention of his attackers. Smooth as fuck, buddy, Max thought.

"Hey, that fucker is runn-" one of them started speaking, but was shortly interrupted by the trash can lid hitting him in the head and knocking him out.

"Now, now, boys," Max wagged his finger. "Right now you've got other things to worry about."

"You have no idea what kinda mess you've got yourself into, ain'tcha, old man?" one of the remaining three asked, picking up a steel pipe. The guy next to him pulled out a switchblade and the third one raised his fists.

"As much as I'd love to stay and beat the shit out of you guys, I'm really tired, so..." he pulled out a gun, pointed it at them, "...nighty-night," and pulled the trigger.

All of them fell on the ground instantly.

Heh, good-old tranquilizer gun, Max put the gun down with a smirk on his face. Always works.

It took him ten more minutes to find an open store, he quickly bought some snacks and headed towards the car.

And I thought I'd finish all of my business in a couple of hours, he started the car. Kid's probably asleep now, he checked the time. 10:37 pm. Yep, definitely asleep.

It was after midnight when Max finally arrived home.

He quickly put pizza and snacks in the fridge and headed upstairs. Gotta check the kid before bed, he probably fell off the ceiling by now.

He entered Jalyn's room, his bed was empty, the boy himself was nowhere to be found.

Wait, what the hell? Max thought. Where is he? he was in the middle in the room when he heard light snoring from above. Wha- he looked up.

The kid was "lying" on a ceiling, one of his arms was on his stomach, the other one was near his head.

He did it, Max chuckled. Little bastard actually did it, he headed towards his bed, pulled out a mattress and placed it right under him. Just for a good measure.

He looked on the boy with a soft smile and left the room, closing the door behind him.

That's it for today, thanks for reading.