The bladed chain was hurled at Mr. Holdover, who avoided the weapon, which tore through the floor and dragged towards him. He darted to the side, staying between the gum and chains sides of the room. Splintered wood burst with each strike; papers flew across the room, some getting stuck to the hovering spheres of gum, which Mr. Holdover kept his eye on while running to the right end of the room. Seeing that, Andre paralleled the man, running atop the other of a bookshelf alongside him. He swung his ball ended chain in a wide arch—which Mr. Holdover saw was quickly approaching his left. He nearly jumped—only to see the shadow of a bubble directly above his head as the chain collided with it

  ‘FW-POP!’

  Jacklyn snickered. The mass of gum coated the entire corner of the room. Her smile quickly faded when she saw Mr. Holdover run through a bookshelf. He spotted her and immediately jumped on it, sprinting for her on shelf at a time.

  “Persistent little fuck!” she exclaimed, kicking a ball of gum at another. Mr. Holdover watched the balls bounce off each other around the room. One shot past his head, only to ricocheted off the corner into another above him, forcing the man to the floor where Andre threw his weighted chain around Mr. Holdover’s arm, using it to pull himself at the man and kick his chest—but Mr. Holdover tensed his body at the last second, bouncing the Blue Collar’s leg off and knocking him back until his connected chain stopped him.

  ‘The hell?!’ he thought, ‘I didn’t even see him throw a mudra!’

  “Wollfe!” he called, running around Mr. Holdover, “My lead--formation D!”

  “Now we’re talking!” she said excitedly, hopping off the railing and jumping from each ball of gum toward them. Mr. Holdover noticed Andre running, then seeing the chain begin to circle him in a wide arc, fastening quickly around him. Kicking his left foot behind his right, Mr. Holdover spun, unraveling the weapon, only to realize the chain from earlier was still wrapped around his arm and the heavy end was flying right at him. Mr. Holdover threw his head to the side, avoiding it but Jacklyn kicked a ball of gum at the end, pinning it to the floor. Andre ran from Mr. Holdover’s left, yanking his end of the chain still wrapped around the older man’s arm.

  “Aaaaand there goes you’re arm!” Jacklyn sang out.

  “Gruh!” Mr. Holdover threw his leg up and stomped his foot on the chain before Andre could yank it all the way. He shifted to the younger man—feet planted—and shot his fist into his stomach. Andre grunted, sliding back but threw his other chain into a book shelf, yanking it toward the back of the older man. But Mr. Holdover spun again, this time wrapping Andre’s chain around his forearm and throwing him into the oncoming shelf.

  ‘CRASH!’

  “Shit, Andre!” Jacklyn cursed. But Mr. Holdover jumped over her, yanking the other Blue Collar into her and off her bubble, taking them both to the floor. Andre rolled back, snatching Jacklyn out of the way just as the man landed where they were, smashing a huge crater into the floor, sending cracks throughout the entire archive room. The younger man rubbed his arm.

  “Gonna need my chain back.”

  “Right,” she said, sucking her gum off the pinned weapon on the wall.

  The two ran around Mr. Holdover on opposing sides. Andre bolted towards him, looping his chain around his neck just as the man threw a punch. He threw his neck back—then to the side, unraveling the chain and flinging its sharp end to Mr. Holdover’s face. He quickly fell back—allowing Andre to kick his bladed weapon at him, but Mr. Holdover kicked it back, making it wrap around the younger man’s arm once more. He growled, hurling his other chain past Mr. Holdover’s ear, hearing it crash into another bookshelf behind him. Andre jumped back—yanking his arm back as Mr. Holdover spun to counter.

  Suddenly, it went dark.

  Looking up, a massive pink bubble was in his face, encompassing his entire view. All he could see were a few people inside and the grinning woman at the top of it. She laughed, stomping it down at him. Mr. Holdover grunted, grabbing the chain and swinging flying bookshelf upwards, colliding with the bubble.

  “Mmf!” Jacklyn said, “Fuck, FUCK—”

  ‘BOOP!’

  Gum exploded all over the room, covering everything in a sticky pink, popping the other bubbles. Jacklyn was sent bouncing across the room back to the second floor, but mid tumble, her eyes shot open at a strong sensation on her tongue.

  ‘This must be his Talent and—this flavor! My God this fucking flavor!’

  Suddenly, Mr. Holdover’s body stuttered above her, the woman only able to raise her arms to block as his fist shot into them, sending her through the floor and back to the first. A sharp cry escaped her lips as she hit the ground hard, the man already there, throwing his leg back for a kick, but she twisted around, blowing a bubble at him.

  ‘I can’t wait to—!’

  ‘THWOCK!’

  His shin struck her through her bubble and in the face, shooting her through a few more shelves until crashing through a table at the far end. The woman rose from the debris, her face and hair a mess of blood and sweat.

  “HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL MOVING?!!” she screamed.

  Mr. Holdover tensed at the sudden yell, “WHY THE HELL DO ALL YOU GOVERNMENT FUCKS YELL ALL THE DAMN TIME?!”

  “ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION, NAPPY!”

  ‘WHO THE FUCK YOU CALLIN’ NAPPY?!!”

  “FUCK YOU OLD MAN!”

  “FUCK YOU BITCH!”

  “WOULD YOU BOTH SHUT THE HELL UP?!!” Andre roared form the back. “I can only take so many damn F-bombs a day!!”

  Jacklyn wanted to laugh but her stomach hurt.

  Andre dropped to his knee, feeling the gum beneath his feet. Seeing that, the brunette ran over and yanked it away. They both looked back at Mr. Holdover, who was on the other side standing on a book to avoid the gum coated room. Jacklyn blew some hair from her face, “This fucker’s tougher than I thought. Still, glad he’s not tough enough to come all the way over here.”

  He panted. His eyes on Mr. Holdover, “What did I just say?”

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  “Oh—look, my point is this guy’s off, AC. Like, M.I.R.S levels of off.”

  “…”

  “Like seriously, why I haven’t seen him on any of our federal wanted lists?!”

  “…”

  The young woman made an annoyed groan, her shoulders hunched in exhaustion. “I think I’d be best—as much as I’d rather cut of my fucking thumb—to round back with Rosa to handle this guy.” She threw her arms to her sides, “There, I said it!”

  “…”

  “Hey!” she snapped in his face, “Andre, You still there? Knock it off we need a plan!”

  “Wollfe,” he panted.

  She looked at him, his breathing had become wheezes and his body was banged up in his stomach and face. Her body trembled, ‘Oh no.’

  “It’s him, Jacklyn,” he said, “He’s the guy.”

  “What? What are you on about?!”

  “His strength ain’t normal, plus we know he’s with the gray kid,” he panted, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s the mastermind behind the Amesworth incident. The correlation Alastor was talkin’ about.”

  “…So he’s the guy who beat Rosa’s ass, huh?” Jacklyn said, laughing a little. The two then went quiet; unease filled the silence between them. The archive room seemed to be still in time, with the occasional rumbling below. On the other side, the man looked around the gum stained room, glancing to the door and around the room. Andre slowly rose to his feet.

  “Do me a solid…” he said, “I want you to report everything that happened here to our superior.”

  “Huh? What are you—?”

  “You’re hurt,” he said, “and if you get overwhelmed again…”

  “Me? Look at you!” she exclaimed, “You’re staggering like a zombie!”

  He kept his eyes on the man, “If this guy beat Rosa, then we don’t stand a chance.” He took a step forward, only for the woman to grab his arm.

  “Yeah, we don’t stand a chance, which is why we’ll both fall back for now.” She poked her head to Mr. Holdover, “You hear that?! Just wait till we see you again—!”

  “Jacklyn,” Andre said, “he ain’t gonna let us leave.”

  Now her face turned concern, “Andre…”

  “But even then…” The young man glared, “Alastor’s trusting—no, he’s relying on us. He’s going down. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “You?!” she demanded, “Quit trying to play some bullshit hero and—!”

  “I ain’t doing nothing special!” he snapped back. “When we put these Collars on we both took an oath—an oath we swore to uphold until the day we die!” he gripped his chain, “And I spoke that oath to the man who gave me my second chance. The man who dragged me from those tracks all those years ago and gave me purpose beyond a being burden—he saved my damn life!”

  “It wasn’t just you…” she replied quietly.

  “…” Andre pulled his arm away to leave, only to hear her again.

  “And even so, what about your family, huh? Your mom?” she grabbed his arm once more, squeezing it even tighter. “Ever thought about the people who give a damn about you?”

  He was quiet, his pace stifled for a bit. Then, this time, he gently pulled her hand off. “It’s all weight, Jacklyn.” he said. “And in the line of duty, there’s no place for that.”

  She helplessly watched him reach under his loose collar and tie, pulling out a red chain, then, yanking it from his neck. His aura shot from his body, darkening to a deep blue and seeping from him like a hot steam, filling the room with an immense pressure. He wrapped one end of his chain around his left and while holding the other end in his right. She turned away.

  “Fine then! Fuck you, you selfish piece of shit!” Jumping to the end of the room, she stormed out the door, “Fucking waste. Do whatever you want!”

  Mr. Holdover felt the air start to shake, quickly growing heavy and making it hard to stand. He widened his stance, ‘So she split so he could liberate his Talent without hurting her. I’m gonna take a wild guess and assume he’s an offensive type like me.’

  “Before this ends,” the younger man began. His eye briefly glossed the room “I wanna know why.”

  ‘Cocky motherfucker…’ he thought, “Why what? Get to the damn point.”

  “Why you’d go so far for these folks? You know they don’t give a damn about you.”

  The man’s face changed, a slight look of disgust tainting it, “’Cause you’re here.”

  He stared, his body then tensed in anger, his temples on his forehead bulging as his teeth grit. “You’re wrong,” he began. His feet pressed firmly to the floor and his knees bent slightly. His hands shook and he squeezed his chain, stepping forward, “Every single one of y’all are wrong!”

  His body stuttered before the step could finish. Mr. Holdover’s eye went to his two and ten o’ clock. Despite the pressure he could still feel the slight change of Gi in the air.

  ‘He’s trying to fake me out.’ He thought, ‘He’s got some balls to pull off Liberation with his Talent in this state. Of the government’s cucks, he seems a whole lot better than the three musketeers at Amesworth—’

  ‘SPLURT!’

  Before he could finish, a chain burst through the front of his chest.

  _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  All Andre could hear were sounds. Screaming filled his ears of what sounded like three boys. His blurred vision could only catch a few glimpses of what could match the noises; a white gloved hand grabbing a face, the face’s mouth gaped in horror as its skin sunk into its skull while spewing vomit, its limbs twitching like a dead cockroach. Then, it all faded to black again. Taking a long but pained breath, letting his eyes roll around the room as his sight came back. He was in a stained, cream colored doctor’s office, flickering white lights on the celling and his vital signs at his bedside being monitored by an old machine. He looked to his upper left to see a pouch of water with a tube running into his arm amongst many others. His eye widened, and his breath came fast, his voice quivered.

  “A-am I…”

  The sound of a door opened to his left, “Mr. Carmichael, you’re awake!”

  The boy’s head turned to a doctor wearing a yellow vest and sandals strutting in. He looked at him and smiled, “It appears you’ve made a near full recovery!”

  “Recovery…?” he said. He looked down to see chain markings from where he was tied up, covering his arms and chest. He picked up his hand, examining the front and back.

  The doctor pulled up a chair besides Andre and sat down excitedly. “Do you know how rare this is, young man? That cargo train should’ve mangled your body to shreds, not to mention the mental damage would have been absolutely crippling to say the least!”

  “…”

  “Yet here you are four months later, already conscious as if nothing happened! Now I do think it could’ve had something to do with that man who brought you in, but he could’ve only done so much, right? Now I think Talent could’ve—”

  “Wait…please, stop all that noise.” Andre groaned, rubbing his ears. “You said I was down for four whole months?”

  He checked his clipboard, “And thirteen days.”

  “My ma,” he said, “Where’s she?”

  “She was admitted to state prison, unfortunately. When you first arrived she refused to leave your side, even going as far as attacking law enforcement that arrived to apprehend her for skipping her court date that same day.”

  A lump formed in the boy’s throat.

  “She was admitted to state prison shortly after for a history of crimes, stemming from unpaid parking tickets.”

  “No…no,” he shook his head while forcing himself up against his bedframe, feeling his back crack in pain. The doctor watched in awe.

  “Amazing.”

  “What about everyone else?!” he demanded, “Where’s my family? Where’s Ty-ty? Glory? Ree—”

  “Wait a moment, Ty-ty Carmichael?” the doctor asked. He flipped through his clipboard again before taking out a handheld device and tapping a few buttons. He stared, then, nodded. “He was here a few months ago,” he pointed at him, “Your kidneys were beyond saving and desperately needed a transplant. Now I personally wouldn’t say he was the most suitable candidate but…”

  Andres lip quivered and his vision began to blur again, letting his face drop to his shaking hands. The doctor’s face changed. The boy’s muffled crying filling the quiet room. He stood up and reached into his coat pocket, producing a white card and a shiny black smartphone. He sat the two next to him.

  “The man who brought you here told me to hold these until you woke up.” He said. He turned and left for the door, “Law requires I check you out at this point, but I’ll put on the record you weren’t conscious until tomorrow.” He stepped out the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Get well soon, kid.”

  The door shut, leaving Andre alone. His eyes were glued to the marks on his arms. He could almost hear the sounds of the tracks again in his ears—the sight of Jacklyn’s face burned into his mind, making his body rattle. Then, silence. He looked around and remembered where he was again. After a while, the boy climbed off the bed, falling to the floor hard, but feeling nothing. He opened the drawer at his bedside finding his old clothes, torn and bloody. He forced each piece on and slowly raised himself up, eyeing the card and phone. Turning his back, he walked out the door, letting it close behind him with the doctor behind it, watching him vanish into the mess of nurses and patients.

  “Trauma.” the man said, “Is that the root of it all?”