The Divine Gambit Ch. 01

1. A Rude Awakening

Despite being a summertime Friday evening, I was walking alone back to my apartment just off campus. I returned to school for my final year only a few weeks ago, and classes were just getting into swing, so I still had plenty of free time, just like most other students. To that end, I had been invited to a start-of-the-year party thrown by one of the fraternities, along with my best friend, Kyle. Yet, when I met Kyle under the pretense of heading there, we concluded that neither of us were particularly invested in attending. Both of us had had our fill of that scene and largely grown out of it. The invitations were given to everyone even remotely acquainted with the hosts, and our absences wouldn't be noteworthy.

Part of my disinclination for attending a large rush party came from simply feeling under the weather. I had been feeling under pressure for the last month, a feeling that only grew more intense as the school year kicked off. The logical assumption was to attribute it to nerves. I was heading into my senior year, talking to professional recruiters and angling for positions when I graduated. In ten months, I would leave school behind and join the real world, becoming fully responsible for myself for the first time. My parents were a great help in financing school but that meant I was a bit less involved in the decision-making process. I didn't fully grasp the financial realities of running my own life because I hadn't been required to learn them. I figured the flutter in my chest and the aches in my bones were just nerves about growing up and taking control of my destiny.

After relaxing with Kyle for the afternoon, without really feeling any better, I headed home myself. Kyle lived on the other side of campus from where I did, his apartment located near where all of the greek life was -- hence why I met him at his place, as it was more convenient for heading to the event when we were still entertaining that idea. Now I was walking across town back to my apartment. It was a refreshing night out -- warm enough as summer came to a close, not a cloud in the sky, a pleasant and invigorating breeze passing lazily through with just a hint of the inevitable chill.

To get home, I had two choices. I could cut through the nightlife center that was just off-campus and frequented by every student with a fake ID each weekend, or I could walk through campus, detouring around the bars and clubs and taking an extra half an hour to get home. I wasn't in a rush per se, but I felt no reason to avoid the surely crowded streets and rowdy atmosphere.

As I walked through McKinley Street, the center of the action, I found myself repulsed by the raucous noise, overexuberance on display, and the tackiness, bravado, and desperation shown by the owners and patrons alike. I found that thought confusing because I had never had a firm opinion about this area before. Sure, I knew it wasn't my scene, but that just meant I didn't frequent it. Suddenly being repulsed by what was in front of me felt jarring.

The main drag of McKinley Street was a strip mall that ran adjacent to a green area in the town center. The buildings were several floors tall, and many contained a business on each floor with the college demographic in mind. A bar on the ground floor, a take-out restaurant on the second, and a bubble tea cafe on the third. A tanning salon, a gym, several trendy fashion outlets -- anything a 20-year-old with too much spending money and no parental guidance could be interested in.

Little alleys ran to the back between the ground floors of these stores to allow for deliveries and services. As I meandered past one of these, I heard some kind of altercation taking place and then winced as my curiosity got the best of me. A glance down the grubby path revealed two burly men in suits standing some ways off of a third man. This third man was wearing an old, beat-up pair of jeans and a tired shirt with some construction company logo faded on the back. He was yelling at a girl.

This girl was much smaller than he was, thin, wiry, and petite in every sense. She had cut her hair short, barely covering her ears. I couldn't see more clearly in the dark of the night and the dimly illuminated alley. The man had one arm against the wall, trapping and holding her in place. She wasn't going anywhere anyway, as she had pressed herself back into the wall and avoided his gaze, frozen in place and withdrawn to escape everything happening. He was yelling something but was clearly inebriated because the few intelligible words weren't coherent. I could tell he was raving about money, but not much more.

When I paused at the entrance to the alley, the nearer of the two suited men cleared his throat. The aggressive man must've missed the obvious warning because he continued yelling and berating the girl before him. She started crying quietly, and I felt compelled to step in. I didn't want to play a hero, but this entire situation seemed off, and the two suits weren't doing shit to control the other man.

I cleared my own throat and loudly said, "What appears to be the issue here, sir?"

The aggressive man spun on the spot, but as he turned, he grabbed the girl's arm and gripped her hard. She whimpered when he did. He wavered back and forth as he stood, no longer leaning on the brick wall, and slurred back at me, "The fuck you want, kid? This ain't your problem -- fuck off."

"If you can explain why you seem to be holding her here against her will, I'll be on my way."

"Fuck off, asshole, she took some of my money, and I need it now."

Oh. I understood what was going on now. The suits were here to collect money from him, and he didn't have any to give them. He was making a big show of trying to get money from this girl, who had 'stolen' it from him. She probably had no idea what was going on. What a mess.

"I think it's pretty clear she doesn't have your money, man."

He snarled at me. Something in the back of my mind clicked, and I realized I could smell fear from the man. He was performing being a tough guy to try and prevent anything from happening. He was desperate to avoid the wrath of the suits behind him. Wait -- smelled fear? That didn't make any sense. But now that I had realized it, I could feel that the entire alley was full of fear and loathing -- coming primarily from the girl. That's why I was so confident that she wasn't in on this game the man was playing, as she was genuinely terrified by him and the situation she was in. I didn't get anything but mild annoyance and impatience from the suits.

He spoke up again, shouting at me, "This shit ain't about you! Just fuck off out of here."

I nodded petulantly to the men behind him and said, "It doesn't seem to involve her either, but here we are anyway."

He swung at me, letting go of the girl and flinging a wild haymaker with his right hand as hard as he could. It probably could've knocked me out or seriously injured me if it had connected. Unfortunately, he was inebriated and slow, and his swing was telegraphed and easily foreseen. I took a step back, and his fist passed through the air where my head was located a moment prior.

I hadn't foreseen that he would immediately follow his wild hook with a left jab. He had stepped forward with his previous strike, and the jab connected with my cheek. I had moved my head mostly out of the way, but he had made contact. He stepped back and pulled his hands up to guard his face, but he was billowing as if we were in a hurricane, rocking back and forth.

That's when I felt it. I felt something else in my head, moving through my thoughts like a shark darting through the water in search of prey. It was cold, brutal, and unforgiving. The pressure I felt building for the last month came to its zenith as this presence came to the forefront of my thoughts.

It announced into my mind, "I WILL HELP."

I then felt my entire body recede away from my control, the feeling of my limbs becoming numb and the pain in my face completely fading. I couldn't move my limbs anymore. I watched this parasite in my head take over my body and manipulate my appendages how it saw fit. I was a mere spectator in a fight in which my body participated. I found that I wasn't at all concerned or scared with what was happening, despite the logical part of my mind saying that this shouldn't be possible and that I should be freaking out. I also noticed that the pressure I had assumed was nerves had completely gone. I was incredibly relaxed -- and the only possible explanation was outside influence.

The man swung his fists at my head again. No longer under my command, I was momentarily concerned until my body began moving on its own. The fight continued like this, completely surreal and unexplainable to me. The girl was frozen in terror against the wall, oblivious to the scuffle. One of the suited men stepped into the entrance of the alley I had come from and stood there. The other walked to the other end of the passage, took out a phone, and began calling someone.

I watched through my own eyes as my body fought another man. I hadn't been in any real fights before, but the presence that had taken over my body certainly knew what to do. It was incredibly passive and defensive, letting the other man attack constantly. Almost every strike was cleanly avoided, while the handful that landed were either glancing blows that barely connected or were blocked by my arm from connecting with their intended target.

Astoundingly, the places where I had been struck didn't hurt. They stung on the initial contact, but the pain almost instantaneously faded from my perception. I was also confused because, at several points, even I could tell that the man had left himself wide open to counters, but the thing controlling my body never took them. I also noticed that my limbs never felt heavy, as I had anticipated. I wasn't becoming fatigued from the minute of brawling, but the same could not be said about the man who had swung at me.

Eventually, even in his inebriated and emotional state, he came to the obvious conclusion: I was toying with him, elongating the fight for some reason. That's what I also saw, only I didn't understand why the alien in my mind was doing it. It wasn't attacking him, but it easily avoided everything thrown at it without tiring like the other man. When he came to this conclusion, I could smell the fear grow and fill the alley. It was already covered in the scent, as the girl had been absolutely petrified in terror, but now his fear was competing with hers. The combination threatened to overwhelm my senses. Hints of concern from the two suits melded in the noxious mixture.

While I contemplated how weird it was that I could smell their fear, the man turned and ran away. I guess it made some sense -- I was here elongating the fight for some reason, and he wasn't going to stick around to find out. He was only putting on a show about getting the money from the girl and knew that there was nothing good for him here. He ran out the way I had entered the alley, and the suited man there let him pass with a sigh. They must've known where he would go and could get their money later. It wasn't my problem, anyways.

I watched him flee into the night and then turned to the girl. She still exuded fear, even though the man who had been screaming about something she didn't understand had left. It was almost overpowering in its toxicity. She kneeled on the ground while I was fighting, wrapped her arms around her knees, and was holding and gently rocking herself. It was awful to see someone in this amount of pain. Her condition left me somewhat conflicted with my decision to allow the asshole to flee unhindered magnanimously. Although to be fair, it wasn't entirely my decision. What a mess.

As I looked at her, I felt the presence return control of my body. It was a unique experience, suddenly being able to perceive your aching limbs again after a minute of nothingness. I'm sure that I stumbled as I took my next steps. The presence didn't fully recede, remaining against the surface of my mind to ask a question.

"WHAT OF HER? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH HER?"

That was a very confusing way to frame that question. I wasn't sure I had any authority to do anything with her. I suppose I was going to try and comfort her, draw her out of the immediate shell she was hiding in, and see what she needed to get out of this mess. If she was amenable to that at all. It wouldn't be unreasonable for her to reject my offer out of hand entirely.

"PROTECTED AND COMFORTED. YES. A NOBLE GOAL."

With that, the presence fled from my mind, and I felt the pressure return. More than just returning, it built and grew inside me. Astoundingly, it was no longer painful. Uncomfortable and foreign, absolutely, but it was no longer distressing.

I stepped over to the girl and kneeled, so my head was closer to her eye level. I softly asked, "Hey, are you okay now?"

She was crying, still rocking back and forth, and hadn't lifted her head to see who was talking to her. She was clearly not okay. She responded, shrilly and uneven, "I don't have the money. He put it somewhere. Told me to forget about it."

I responded, careful to control my voice to be as calm as possible, "I figured you didn't know. He set you up to take the blame. Are you okay?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at me, and I got a good look at her face for the first time. Her makeup had been smeared by crying and subsequently wiping her face, and her green eyes looked up at me in anxiety and confusion. With that said, the flow of fear pouring off her slowed somewhat. It was now an old, lazy river pouring a large amount into the ocean that was already here instead of the raging torrent dumping incomprehensible quantities it was before.

"You aren't here about the money?" She asked incredulously.

"No, I'm just a guy who saw something happening that didn't seem right and couldn't help but jump into a mess he didn't understand." I stood up but remained bent over and offered her my hand. "C'mon, we should see to getting you home. Can't stay here all night. What would your parents think?"

She bristled at my comment, defiance growing on her face. The fear I was smelling faded, replaced with hatred and resentment. She practically spat her words as she spoke, "She'd say I got what I deserved."

Still, she took my offered hand to pull herself to her feet. I felt a painful shock when our fingers connected and saw a quick spark between our palms. I could have ignored that as static electricity, except I also heard an echo throughout the alley, like a sonic pulse reverberating from our hands. The pressure that had been growing while we talked evaporated, suddenly relinquished. I was exhausted, and everything ached. I wondered if it was just my adrenaline fading, and I was feeling the effects of the fight now because my bones physically ached.

She shivered slightly but offered no other indication that she had noticed a change. She didn't mention the shock, spark, or echo; she simply took my assistance in getting to her feet. I was astonished to feel that her hands were rough and dry. I would've expected them from a day laborer or perhaps the men in the suits behind me, not from this dainty girl.

The voice from the monster in my head spoke one final time, but it was subdued and sounded far away and weak, "OUR WILL IS DONE. I SHALL REST." I observed it slink even further away, deeper into the recesses of my mind. I felt alone, abandoned in the dark of the night by the one thing that seemed to understand what was occurring.

As I stood, I realized the girl had never let go of my hand. She was still holding onto it for dear life. It didn't bother me. It just made me curious, so I let it be for now. When we walked to the alley's entrance, the suited man stopped me and spoke.

"You should not have done that. You know we can't use our Gifts in mundane lands. You know I'm going to have to report this tonight." He laughed softly before continuing, "Like they don't already know. Seriously man, what did you do? People in Toronto -- hell, maybe Cleveland -- will have felt that."

I was deliriously tired and wanted to get home and deal with everything tomorrow. I shrugged at the guy and said, "I don't know what you're on about. Are you stopping me here?"

He shook his head and said, "Playing coy and innocent in front of her now, yeah? Worth a shot, I guess. Nah, I don't think I could stop you." With that, he and his partner stepped out into the night, and I lost sight of them in the crowd within moments.

I was oblivious to how strange it was for two suited, massive men to disappear in a crowd of twenty-somethings, so I turned to the girl and asked, "So, where do you live? We should get you home."

The fear that had been receding since I spoke to her spiked, and she mumbled as she quietly said, "I had been staying with him."

I grunted, "Hmm. That could be an issue. Alright, how about your parents? They must be around here somewhere."

She aggressively reacted to that suggestion, "I was staying with him to get away from my mother. My father died when I was young, or so my mother says. Staying with her was like living in a brothel, and they started to think I was on the menu. I'll sleep here before returning there." She shivered in disgust as she spoke.

That didn't seem like a good option. "So, no friends or anything you could crash with for a night?"

She sighed and said, "No, that's why I was staying with him. My friends all got tired of me couch-surfing between their places long ago."

"Alright. I guess you can stay with me for the night. We'll figure this out in the morning."

For the first time since I realized that I could recognize emotions, I smelled hope coming off her. A hint of gratitude and a heavy amount of lingering fear, but for the first time, there was a refreshing hint of optimism.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose. I'm sure I can figure something out."

I looked at my phone to see the time. "Figure something out alone after midnight when you've already rejected all the intuitive solutions? Nah, come on. It's easier this way. Besides, you're not imposing, I offered."

We walked in silence back to my apartment, leaving the jubilation of the night behind us. She never let go of my hand, and as we got further from the crowded commercial streets and into my neighborhood, the fear she was producing faded into the background. It didn't disappear entirely, but it was no longer oppressive and overwhelming.

It was nearly one in the morning when I unlocked my front door and let her inside. My place wasn't anything special; a cheap (not inexpensive, my mother would remind me) two-bedroom apartment just off a college campus for students. My roommate had bailed out a few weeks before classes started, deciding to chase a girl on a backpacking trip through Europe, so I was on the hook for all of it myself. I didn't mind -- paying more was unfortunate, but having a place solely my own had advantages. Turning the second bedroom into an office and studying space certainly made concentrating on schoolwork easier.

As we came in, I turned on my living room light and got my first good look at the girl I had dragged to my home. She was petite and lean, wiry instead of athletic. She had a cute little button nose, curled up at the end, nestled between two sparkling green eyes staring at me and waiting for instruction. Her hair was a light brown, and for some reason, I thought that in the sunlight, it would look almost auburn with red sparkles where the light hit it. What struck me most was how young she looked. Too young to be caught up in the mess outside. Too young to be taken home by a random stranger she had just met in an alley because she had nowhere else to go. She must've been aware of how youthful she would naturally appear -- her skintight jeans and strappy minuscule pink halter top fought hard to make her look older.