Tristan's Tale Pt. 05

"I don't have my Chi," I said flatly. "That's the only reason I'm here."

Derrik blinked. "Right." He coughed, then looked to Kelechi. "Is he retarded?" he asked softly.

Kelechi nodded.

Derrik looked back. "Alrighty, little boy. So this room," he said in a slow, higher-pitched voice, and spread his arms to the room, "Is for adults. Big people, who can use their Chi. If you don't have your Chi, you go in the other room. O-kay?" he asked.

I didn't have time for this. "Look, either teach me, or point me to a punching bag and I'll figure it out myself." I folded my arms and gave him a withering glare. "I'm sure the bag would have more interesting things to say."

Derrik shrugged. "No bags on the mats. You're stuck here," he said.

"Okay," I replied. "So teach me what you know."

"Show me your Chi," he repeated.

"I told you, I don't have it. I brought it out earlier, but for whatever reason, it's locked away from me until I'm a better fighter. I can't well go and fight against someone who has a sword. So here I am." I spread my arms wide. "How do I punch people, grand master dipshit?"

Derrik snorted, and looked at Kelechi. "You're going to make me train him, aren't you."

Kelechi nodded, and the ghost of a smile played on his lips.

Derrik sighed, overly dramatic. "Fine."

Kelechi nodded once more, clapped Derrik on the shoulder, gave me an even look, and then left to go criticize the other people in the room, presumably.

Derrik gestured to the other guy, a bored-looking middle-aged white man who'd been standing there the whole time, probably patiently waiting for us to stop acting like school children. "This is Mark. It's just me and him this period, as far as boxers go, and Kelechi, but he's got people to train."

I extended my hand to Mark. "Hey. I'm Tristan."

Mark looked at me. "I know."

I blinked, and took my hand back. "Alrighty then..."

"Usually we spar, but it might be good for Mark to get an outside view," said Derrik. "You mind sitting out for a sec?" he asked Mark. A silent shake of the head was his only reply.

Derrik smiled, and punched a mech-hand into the palm of the other. "Awesome. Now we're going to teach the newbie how to fight."

He squared his shoulders, raising his hands up, and set one foot in front of the other. I matched him. I made a small adjustment when I noted his elbows were more tucked in than mine.

"Okay, yeah, do that," he said, noting my positioning with some dissatisfaction. "Now next thing is, well, you gotta get out of your head."

I rolled my eyes. "Can you be more specific?"

Derrik frowned. "Uh, yeah. So how does it feel to know I've been all up in Jade?"

I stared at him.

"She has a great ass. Nice rack, too. She doesn't show it off enough."

An angel must have been watching over me, because I didn't manage to kill Derrik with the sheer force of my anger.

Instead, I made due with launching myself in a full body tackle at him.

He stepped to the side easily, and slapped me.

I stumbled, then paused, taking in the sheer shock of it for a second. I'd just been slapped. If you've ever had it happen to you from a girl, you know the humiliation. And if you've ever been slapped by a guy, there's this extra layer of confusion on top. Of all the things...

"What the fuck did you just do?" I demanded incredulously, and, without waiting for a response -- because it was Derrik, and I didn't give a shit what he had to say -- I launched a hook at his meaty, asking-for-it face.

He swatted my fist away with a blur of his hand. "She kept asking for more. Begged for it, actually. On her knees."

I charged him, fists swinging. He dodged, and slapped my ass. I yelped in surprise. A few people around us laughed, watching the spectacle.

"No, see, hers was firmer than that," he said, laughing as I continued my futile assault.

He may have been one of the strongest of the Set, but that thought was far from my mind. If I'd had the available brainpower, I might have fantasized about digging him out of his grave (after I'd killed him, of course) and mutilating his dead body. But I was too focused on getting to the him being dead part.

"'Course, I had to slap her around a little. She liked it, though. If you ever get my sloppy seconds, I'll give you a tip: she likes getting her hair pulled."

At that point, I stopped, panting for breath. He regarded me with a wolfish grin.

"Okay," I said. "Three things."

"Oh boy, three things!" said Derrik to Mark, who's hand was covering his smile. "I wonder what they are!"

"First," I said, breathing hard, "I get it. You were getting in my head."

"Very good, young grasshopper," said Derrik sarcastically.

"Second," I said, "You know absolutely nothing about Jade. The only reason she had anything to do with you is because Colin forced her."

Derrik's eyes darkened to storm clouds. "I've got no idea what you're talking about, Tristan."

I snorted. "You'd need to be braindead to think someone like Jade would ever think twice about you, Derrik. But it's whatever. Everyone knows what happened. What they don't know, is that you never even fucked her. You couldn't get it up." That would catch the attention of anybody listening. And it was Caer'Aton. Everyone was always on the lookout for the latest gossip.

Derrik reddened, and the storm clouds grew angry. "Bullshit."

"Wanna know how I know?"

"Not particularly."

"She told me, Derrik."

He let out a short bark of a laugh. "Chicks will say anything to protect their reputations. She just didn't want to make you feel bad, knowing that you'd never be able to live up to me."

I smiled. I wasn't going to share Alice's part in that series of events -- she'd broken courtesy to do it, and I wasn't trying to get her in trouble. "A girl like Jade, beautiful as the moon aflame, and you couldn't even get it up," I said. "They've got pills for that, you know. Pity, I didn't see any in the supply closet."

Derrik growled, and suddenly he was the one throwing punches. The red domes on his gloves began to glow brighter. Interesting.

I'd expected the first punch, and moved out of the way just barely in time. It helped that I was so grounded -- I was more balanced, and could move a little quicker. "What happened to getting out of your head?"

But being more balanced is only a small part of the picture -- a picture I knew next to nothing about. The second one hit me right in the shoulder, and the blow hurt more than it should have on account of my already-existing bruise, despite the room's dulling effect. I winced, and tried to dodge out of the way of the next blow, but the huge metal fist struck me square in the nose.

That hurt. Not as much as it should have, but still, I wondered if I might get a bloody nose. I almost stepped back into somebody else, and instead just barely managed a pivot that got me out of the way of the next strike.

I expected it to let up then. He'd gotten me a few times, and now I was out.

He didn't.

The punches kept coming, raining down on me, born from a cold fury in Derrik's eyes.

"Easy man, woah!" I exclaimed, looking around for support as I got clocked in the ear and began to hear a ringing sound. Nobody seemed to mind. And the punches kept coming.

I got hit by most of them. At one point we came to a natural break in the fighting. I'd had to keep circling around, and I'd just jumped back a big step. We glared at each other, his fists up.

"Can we break for a second?" I asked.

Derrik gave me a look of disdain. "You'd never have made it in Tower. You come to me asking to train and now you're all whiny once we actually start?"

I bit back a retort. He was right, I realized, much as I didn't like it. I gritted my teeth, and nodded, faking left and tossing out a jab.

"Alright then," he said.

We kept up the back and forth for a while. I say back and forth, but what I mean by that is Derrik pounded the living shit out of me for damn near an hour, and I occasionally grazed him with my knuckles -- maybe six or seven times in an hour.

Yeah. I won't bother to tell you that Derrik is a good fighter. He is. He has none of Kelechi's catlike grace, none of the beauty. But the guy moved faster than my eyes could track, and his punches sent me staggered backwards eight times out of ten.

And over time, the strangest thing unfolded. I started to understand the bros back at my school, and damned if I didn't understand Derrik a little better too, because there was really something to the constant fighting, the sheer physical playing.

I could say with confidence that we both hated each other. That would be an understatement -- I'd publicly undermined his authority on a few occasions, and he'd mind-controlled the girl of my dreams to be his chained up princess Leia on a mental leash.

But as we fought, a grudging respect snuck its way amidst the hate. I knew he was enjoying it when he punched me, but we were both pursuing something bigger than either of our hatred. We wanted to become better fighters. He even gave me a small pointer, correcting my tendency to overcommit to my movements, which noticeably cut down on my options in any given situation.

It was a long class. But at the end, I'd had so many punches tossed at my face that I'd stopped flinching as much. I'd had to make a conscious decision to do so, because flinching when something big (like, gee, a huge freaking metal fist) comes at your face is a deep-down instinct that really does you a lot of good, most of the time. But I'd gotten a bit of a handle on it. And I'd noticed my dodging improve near the end there, because I wasn't so worried about getting hit in the face. Here and there, I was able to get out of the way very calmly. I wasn't sure how much Mark was getting out of it — he went in and out of paying attention.

I was deep in concentration, watching Derrik's gloves, when a sharp, piercing whistle shattered my focus. I whipped my head around -- Kelechi had just signaled the end of class.

And then the hairs on the back of my neck raised up and all my instincts told me to move.

I stepped smoothly to the side, just in time to see the fist fly where my face had been not milliseconds earlier. The room went quiet and all eyes went to Kelechi -- Derrik and I shared a look that was equal parts disgust, hate, and acknowledgment, and we looked at Kelechi, who stood on his dark green platform once again.

"Well the bad news is you're all still terrible," he said with a faint smile.

"What's the good news?" asked Jeff.

"No good news," said Kelechi, looking bored. "Class dismissed." He stepped off the pedestal.

Wow. Brutal. As people started to wind down and leave the room, I wondered what he was going for. Some kind of drill sergeant vibe, obviously, but I didn't really see what it was accomplishing. I'd seen people fighting in my peripherals. I wouldn't exactly call it rigorous. Everyone but Derrik and I had taken frequent breaks, chit-chatted in between sessions, talked about who was ranked higher than who.

That reminded me. I turned to Derrik. "Can you explain the ranking system to me?"

Derrik gave me an incredulous look, and then laughed. He laughed long, and hard, and clutched at his stomach, wheezing. He pointed at me, doubled over with it. And then he clapped Mark on the shoulder, wiping a tear from his eye, and they left.

Right. In the imposed equality brought about by training with someone, I'd forgotten the whole social component of life. Man, I'd gotten really into that. I'd practically not had any thoughts for a good forty five minutes there. You don't have much time for thinking when whether or not you dodge the next blow decides how much pain you're going to be in.

And now that I'd had a second to wind down... Ow. Jesus. I hurt all over. My knuckles were red from the few times I'd landed blows on Derrik -- once or twice even colliding with the gloves -- and I couldn't imagine a future where my body wasn't covered in a generous scattering of black and blue. The nature of the room was such that my body hadn't been actually bloodied, but... the future didn't look too pleasant. At this rate. I didn't know if I'd be able to make it through any more classes. Every class with Jet I'd had was now a chance to train my Chi. I thought over my schedule, and my body groaned. I'd had a lot of classes with Jet. I was in bad shape.

Then, I slapped my forehead. I was being an idiot. This was Caer'Aton. Pain didn't matter, here.

I left the mats, circumnavigating the few instances of hallway mind control (nothing major -- one person made cat sounds at me as I went past, his controller, a Stone guy, grinned) and grabbed a healing brew from the supply closet, a small pipette of mercurial silver. I squeezed it into my mouth, and I swallowed molten joy as the warmth diffused itself down my throat. The warmth spread through my body as a shiver, bringing relief into my every cell. I briefly felt weightless.

Much better. Now I could actually stomach the thought of more fighting.

I returned to the mats, walking quickly through the empty halls. It was unnerving when it was only me, because there was this nagging sense that I wasn't alone. I didn't know what it was. Like the walls themselves were aware of me. I stopped briefly to sanitize my feet in gunk I wouldn't be getting used to any time soon, and arrived just in time to sit near the front of my mat. I'd get a better view this way.

I spotted Kelechi walking toward me. Looked like he taught this class, too. Oh well.

"Back of the line, Tristan," he said, his arms crossed. Not thuggish. Calm. Relaxed.

I frowned, looking around. "What does it matter?"

"High ranks up front. New guys at the back," he said.

I wasn't trying to start any problems -- he was the teacher. I knew when to roll over. I moved over to the area I'd sat at last class, leaving room for a row in front of me, and asked, "How do I rank up, again?"

Kelechi allowed himself a brief smirk. "You beat the person above you."

I nodded. I'd figured as much. "And we're divided by mats?" I looked around at all four of them -- off-beige in the flickerless torchlight.

"Here's how the categories break down." Kelechi pointed to the ground I sat on. "Trash," he said. He nodded to the mat adjacent me. "Slightly less disgusting trash." Then, the mat opposite that one. "Crawling out of the dumpster."

He walked over to the last, opposite my mat, which only had a few other people in it -- Jeff and Thad, Derrik, and a couple others I didn't recognize. "Competent," he said at last, spreading his arms to the mat he was on. "You move mats when you beat everyone on it." he added.

I felt a small tingle of willpower from his direction, and the pedestal descended from the ceiling, acquiring a deepening green the closer it came to Kelechi. He stepped on it once it rested in the bamboo crossroads that divided the mats, and looked around, my existence apparently forgotten.

Thomas came over as I was briefly lost in thought. "How was your first class?"

I paused, startled by his sudden presence. Jesus, the guy was big. "How much did you see?" I asked.

"I checked in on you here and there while practicing," he said. "I'm starting to get the impression you like getting beat up," he added frankly.

I laughed. "You're just saying that because of that one time in the Course."

He got a faraway look. "It's not very often people just... sit there" He shivered. "It was freaky, dude."

"That's what happens when I get focused, I guess," I said, as people started to file back in to the class. Derrik came back in. Awesome. I found myself wishing Emmit were here. We'd sink into training together perfectly. But he didn't have his Chi yet, I reminded myself. There was a reason for the dark circles under his eyes.

"You seemed pretty focused there, just now," said Thomas.

"Yeah," I replied. "I was just thinking...this whole set up. It doesn't make sense."

"No?"

"Not at all. The mat divisions are totally arbitrary," I said. "The training isn't structured. The teacher is a condescending prick." Kelechi flicked his eyes at me, mostly impassive. But there was a flicker of anger there. Good old Tower. As easy to piss off as they were dangerous.

"You should be more careful," cautioned Thomas, looking around.

"I mean, people aren't really here to train," I said. "They're here to fight and talk and gossip."

"We're more on top of it than we normally are," said Thomas, "What with the Tournament coming up."

"This is more on top of it?" I looked around. "I mean, nobody's even stretching. Nobody's talking about techniques to try, tricks they want to pull, things they need to work on. It's lazy."

"There isn't much else to do, Tristan," said Thomas. "It gets old."

"Might as well do it well, then," I countered. He shrugged. "I'm just saying," I continued, "That I think this whole system could be more effective."

People filed into the class, filling out the rows in the mats. I had to move over a little to make room, and Thomas went to the front of our mat. "Alright everyone," said Kelechi, calling the class to order. "Our theme today is not caring about how big the other guy is. Thomas, would you mind?"

I was astonished. It was the same intro as before. Same demonstration. And, of course, Kelechi's Chi, his white gloves, appeared right before he sent Thomas flying through the air.

It didn't feel right. "Could you do that without your Chi?" I asked, as Thomas started to rise, smiling.

Kelechi turned, and fixed me with a pointed stare. "Sorry?" he said.

"That thing, where you get under him and throw the Hulk like a sack of potatoes," I said. "Could you do that without your Chi?"

Kelechi frowned, irritated. "What does it matter?"

"I dunno," I said. And I didn't, really. I wasn't sure where I was going with this. "It just doesn't sit right with me. Something about you telling us to not be afraid of big guys, but you're using your Chi. It's like cheating."

Kelechi shook his head. "You don't understand yet, because you don't have one," he said. "This is why it's not the best idea for you to be in this class. Using your Chi isn't cheating any more than using your biceps."

I paused. The attention in the room was clearly on me.

You'd think I'd have learned by now. "I guess I'm just saying it's easy to say the big bad wolf isn't so scary when you've got a grenade launcher."

Kelechi rolled his eyes. "You're still missing the point. Thomas?"

Thomas rushed at him once more. I watched intently as Kelechi's gloves vanished from his hands, and tried to follow along as best as I could, like I'd done in the Chi room.

This time, Kelechi didn't sink down. He twirled inside Thomas's range, threw a beefy arm over his shoulder and loaded the rest of Thomas onto his hip. A swift motion later, Thomas smacked into the bamboo hard enough to make me wince. Kelechi stumbled just a little -- but not nearly as much as he should have. He'd just offset something like fifteen thousand pounds in the space of half a second. Without his Chi. Damn — it really did carry back.

Kelechi let out a brief exhale, and looked at me. "See what I mean?"

"That was fucking awesome," I said, visibly impressed.

"Chi or no Chi, it's no excuse. Let's go." He whistled sharply.

People tapped each other for training. Daggers materialized, clubs, a shield or two. I felt the ripple of concentration spread across the room. Kelechi's pedestal flew back to the ceiling, returning to the beige of the walls. I heard the sound of weapon on weapon.

I made my way over to Derrik. What Kelechi had just done was beautiful. Sure -- sinking below Thomas and catapulting him across the room was fun to watch. But you could tell that something was wrong. He shouldn't have gone that far. It was like out of some old slapstick comedy movie.