---

Central Capital High looked oppressive to him. It was lit up by the sun but oddly looming and gray. Perhaps it was him distorting it, making it crooked and ugly. Either way, he despised being there. And not just because he got into graceless fights with the students or was constantly antagonized by the faculty for “not caring” . It was more or less all because he couldn’t see himself ever fitting in there.

Taeto vaulted over the walls that ingested the main building and its siblings. He landed with muted pats on the sidewalk, veiled his spiky hair with his hood, and made way for the town. “You can’t expect me to get along with them. It's just impossible.” he mumbled to himself.

His stride became casual the further he got from the school. Soon enough the sounds of construction drummed to life, the low hum of hovercars starting and stopping were quickly overpowered.

All he ever wanted was to fit in somewhere; anywhere, he bargained. But that felt impossible to him. No matter what Mr. Spine said, regardless of his mother’s incorrigible smile; it just felt out of reach. But he would have to endure it, at least until he was allowed to be on his own.

The blaring sounds of the construction site was upon him now, dragging him out his stupor. “Wonder what they’re building?"

---

---

The clang of a hammer and the whine of a bolt gun joined the various sounds banging and whirring about the construction site. The Central Capital Construction Company or “Quad C” as it was normally called was working on an office building for some wealthy company. Honestly, Bolt had worked on so many projects that he didn’t even try to figure out who they were for. He was sitting seven stories up on a beam that he was currently securing to a corner facing the main street. There was a nice breeze that caressed his sweaty brow. The teenager stopped in his drilling to sit back on the beam and remove his hard hat for a minute.

“Whew,” Bolt sighed. He brushed his orange bangs back with the back of his hand and closed his blue eyes. The breeze had felt so good like cool fingers gliding across his face and hair. He didn’t know why so many other workers were afraid of heights. He was certain that he was cooler up top than they were down below.

Returning his yellow hard hat to his head, Bolt glanced down at the stud he was about to drill in next. He set the gun over it and pressed the trigger, but there was no response. He continued to press the trigger and then removed the gun, giving it a slap.

“Right now?” Bolt grumbled on his southern twang. He growled and set the gun behind him. He turned to his right, prepared to stand and leave the beam to get a new gun when another idea entered his mind. Facing the stud, Bolt stared at it, and then he cautiously glanced to his left and right. An impish smile pulled on his lips as he started to open and close his hand. Upon closing his fist, he clenched it tightly before he raised it like a hammer over his head.

“Hrrn!” he growled as he brought it down on the stud and with a pang it went in. Retracting his fist, Bolt peered down at the stud and grinned triumphantly. “Still got it!”

Suddenly, the beam beneath him dipped causing his face to flash pale as his hands grasped it. He started to dip below the other beam that had made the ˥ he had been working on. His eyes nearly bulged in panic. Bolt released the beam snag the other one in his hands. His legs then locked about the beam beneath him as he strained to hold onto it. With the weight of the beam pulling down on his arms, he was starting to feel stretched thin and that hadn’t been the worse of his problems.

Construction workers paused as they heard the clatter of bolts tumbling from above. Everyone stopped hammering and sawing to gaze up at the teen who was dangling from the seventh floor.

“Damn! Is that Bolt Head again?” one construction worker exclaimed.

“Shit! He’s about to drop the beam. That might bring this whole project down!”

“Get the boss!”

The men below him were shouting and screaming their anger at him. Bolt’s teeth were clinched in his struggle to not let the beam go and to keep his grip strong.

“Ya’ll mind helpin’ me?!” Bolt screamed down at them.

The Quad C Project Manager kicked open the door of his trailer that seemed tiny compared to the gargantuan man—or rather beast that emerged. The massive brown bear grasped the railing of his trailer’s porch and near crushed it beneath his paws when he saw what the other workers had been telling him about.

“PAAAAAA~TCH!” Mr. Grizzly roared.

The roar had been so loud that Bolt felt its vibrations even as high up as he was. A red tinge flushed on the teenager’s cheeks. Ah guess the boss was bound to find out… Bolt mused.

“YOU DROP THAT BEAM PATCH AND YOU’RE FIRED!”

Bolt tensed in fright. “WHAT?”

He couldn’t be fired (not again)! He needed this job. Daddy Patch would kill him. Mr. Grizzly then turned his anger on the rest of his crew.

“WHAT ARE YOU STANDING AROUND FOR? GET ON THAT CRANE! GET THAT BEAM SECURED!”

Construction workers started running about like mice. While Bolt continued to hang on, the beam’s direction suddenly changed. He felt it sliding between his legs as opposed to pushing down on them. Bolt’s head snapped over his shoulder only to watch in horror the weight of the beam, drawing the corner it was connected to inwards. The beam groaned as they started to bend.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Bolt panicked. His right hand released the other beam to snag a hold of the one between his legs. His left hand pushed against its purchase, hoping to give strength to his other hand that pushing against the weight of two other beams. Muh arms gonna snap!

Bolt bellowed in his struggle and determination not to break.

Mr. Grizzly and a few workers frozen in awe were gawking up at the scene. How is he holding that up? they thought. Mr. Grizzly’s eyes then focused on the two lollygagging workers. “GO! HELP HIM OUT!”

From the moment she started to become aware of her surroundings, Severa could tell that nothing made sense. Golden light filtered through spindly dark objects, far enough away that the haze obscured their forms, leaving only four things in focus. To her left stood some sort of edifice, lacking detail but awash in a strange feeling. Home. Try as she might, Severa couldn't quite control herself; she felt as though she were strapped into someone else's head, watching from a first-person perspective but unable to direct her body's movements. Yet, despite the confusion and restriction she felt no fear. In fact, something unfamiliar and strange warmed her heart...a sensation that long since drifted away. Her eyes drifted between the faces of the people nearby one by one, but a sort of jitteriness blanketed their features, leaving them essentially faceless. The only thing Severa knew for sure was that she cared for them, and they for her. In this bizarrely vague but carefree place, she felt the handshakes of old strangers: affection and security, which so long ago had ceased to darken her door. Within the back of her mind, however, a lingering unease told her that this comforting scene was not hers, and never was. Though joy surrounded her, Severa was overcome by a longing sorrow, a sadness that spawned from the troubling assurance that none of this was real. Shaking, she looked back at those around her, seeking reassurance, but already they were moving away. The cheery sunshine receded, and as Severa reached out to take the hand of the closest person, she could feel it slide away like water between her fingers. Around her, the colors began to move faster and faster, the landscape melting away, until there remained only darkness and a pining for the touch of home.

Severa gasped, her head swimming painfully. A quick look around made it apparent that the world was upside-down, but she could grasp from the ropes around her feet that it was she who was misaligned. Further examination revealed that she hung, upside-down, from a gnarled tree. Below her yawned a pit lined by torches and filled with stakes, their blood-encrusted points rammed in some cases through stinking corpses. Around her, other bodies hung, but their stillness and her silence told her all she needed to know. As always, Severa was alone, and tonight the scent of death threatened to choke her before she could even impale herself. In every direction, more trees stood like looming spectators, watching those suspended in their midst in quiet anticipation. Her face, however, bore neither fear nor irritation, but instead a grimace of resignation. Fraught with danger as it was, this current predicament interested her far less than the odd hollowness somewhere deep within her mind. She knew that, moments ago, she'd been dreaming, but she could not recall her dream's subject. It left her bitter, as though she'd been denied a small convenience.

No matter. Inexplicable feelings troubled her daily, and as blasé as this situation was, she might as well get it over with. Tightening her stomach muscles, Severa curled upward, then straightened out. In such a manner she began to swing back and forth. For several passes she performed this same motion, a living pendulum, until she deemed her arc satisfactorily large. This time, when she curled, she reached out a hand toward the ropes that trapped her. In front of her fingers, the air began to spin, coalescing into a bladed disc that sawed straight through her bindings with a sound more like a ringing bell than a machine. Immediately she began to drop, but her swing brought her close enough to one of the other hanging bodies that she could plant her feet against it and push off. The impact of her shoes against the rotting flesh caused the skin to slough off, but Severa paid it no mind as she springboarded herself to safety. A midair flip brought her into the ideal position to land on the edge of the spike-pit with a roll, and after getting to her feet the girl dusted herself off and walked to the nearest tree. Two larger sawblades formed, one for each hand, and in a matter of moments Severa had stripped the tree of a sheet of bark. From there, it took only a short time to carve a suitable hole into the wood, which she entered before stretching the bark back over the opening. Then, with a slit in the bark to peek through, it was time to wait.

A quarter-hour passed before she spotted the shadows moving among the foliage on the other side of the spike-pit. Severa observed with nonchalance as a man entered the torchlight. His clothes marked him as a farmer, but the swelling of his left shoulder, and the spiny-toothed orifice nestled there, cast doubt on the notion of him ever being human. He walked toward the pit, a notched sword in hand and a yellow-green glare in his eyes. Behind him three similar creatures followed, and they spread out around the gruesome hole. One placed her back near Severa's hiding spot, and after making sure that no other monsters were coming, she went to work.

She burst from her cavity without much in the way of aplomb, leaping toward the nearest creature with two sawblades summoned. The first strike, a backhand slash, plowed through her target's midsection. Severa executed a full twirl, bringing her reverse hand in for a messy cut through the shock creature's torso, and the final slice after the spin put the miserable thing out of its misery by shearing its head into halves. The creature to her right turned toward her, scythe upraised, and Severa slung her right hand's sawblade into his chest vertically, where it dug itself in for a full second before losing its spin. Without time to admire her handiwork, Severa executed a corkscrew dive across the spike pit, forming another sawblade so that she could execute an x-slash to reduce the hapless monster to four quarters. Not counting the one struggling with the blade lodged in its ribcage, that left only the original. A tongue lashed out from his shoulder-mouth, seeking to bury its tip in Severa's face, but lopping it off with a blade was the very definition of easy. Her target swung his sword, which Severa intercepted with both blades at once. Its force threatened to break through, or push her backward into the pit, but the spin of the girl's saws sent incessant vibrations down the metal weapon into the creature's hand, numbing the nerves. A moment later, Severa shoved the sword to the side and dashed the opposite way, allowing the orbiting blades to strike once each before disappearing as she passed behind the monster. Before the thing could turn around, she dealt a swift kick to its back, causing the monster to tumble toward its own pit.

It did not reach the spikes. Severa's first sawblade, reacting to her summon, flew from its dying victim's chest to hang just above the pit, over the spikes. The monsters she kicked fell upon it, held on the bloodstrained edge by gravity, screeching until its halves fell into the pit on either side of the blade, which vanished back into the air. Just like that, the forest was quiet once again. Her face unchanged, Severa scooped up the fallen sword and turned to jog away into the foliage.

The heat of the sun felt good against Tiberius' skin, the seemingly cloudless sky above a beautifully deep shade of blue. He gazed up at the sky in awe of how clear it was, his attention almost causing him to walk into an old lady. She moved at the last second and spoke angrily, "Look where you're going! You youngsters these days!" Tiberius looked at her, his eyes apologetic as he said, "Sorry, I was just looking at how beautiful the sky was." The old lady was unimpressed, she continued on. "Sorry isn't good enough! What if you had hit me? I could have..."

Before she could finish something shot from her mouth, her hands reaching out juggling whatever it was. After she caught it, she raised her hand up to her mouth. It was at that moment he realised she had just ejected her dentures from her mouth, a thick coating of drool rolled down her stubbly chin. Tiberius' face now looked as if he had sucked on the most sour sweet in the world, his eyes starting to pool with tears. The old lady wiped her chin and looked the young man dead in the eye. Trying his hardest, Tiberius could no longer hold it, bursting into a fit of laughter. The rage within the old lady was clear as she cocked her arm back behind her, flinging it forward with force. At the end of her outstretched arm was her handbag which was undoubtedly filled with an assortment of heavy items. He watched it approach, seeming to almost be in slow motion, before leaning to the left avoiding it. As she brought her arm back across he dodged it again, leaning back. "I'm really sorry...i didn't mean to laugh..." The assault continued until Tiberius decided to turn and run away. He quickly built up a large distance between the two before turning to see her aggressively waving her fist at him. How could I not laugh at that...

Several minutes later his fathers dojo came into view, the long path to the entrance lined by stone lanterns either side. The grounds were massive, his father had used his winnings from the World Martial Arts Tournament to build it. The main building itself was large for a dojo but even bigger was the regulation sized arena behind it. He had spent many hours there sparring with his father and most recently Ally. She had impressed Tiberius with how quickly she learnt his fathers fighting style and deep down knew that he would unlikely ever truely pull away from her in strength. She was too dedicated and willing to push herself to extremes to allow that to happen. Deep down that pleased him though, it meant that he had to push himself just as hard to ensure that he didn't fall behind.

After getting to the end of the path he opened the dojo doors, greeted by the sight of Ally instructing what was clearly a beginners class. The poor form of those in front of him was a dead give away to the standards. While at first Ally had been solely responsible for beginner lessons, Tiberius convinced his father to let her instruct more advanced classes. More than anything it freed time up for Tiberius to do his "other" hobby.

He walked across the back of the wall towards a doorway at the side, keeping an eye on Ally. She turned and looked at him and he spoke softly, trying not to be too much of a disturbance, "I'm going to the garden, join me when you're done. We have a few things to talk about." He raised his hand in a soft wave before moving into the next room. He closed the door behind him to let Ally finish her class in peace, not wanting her to think he was spying on how she was training the beginners. To the right of the room he entered were a set of open double doors, a picturesque garden framed between them. The smell of various flowers filled his nostrils as he approached the opening, it was a smell that soothed him, something that the center of the city lacked. He once again felt the sun on his skin as he returned outside, heading towards a bench that rested next to the central pond. The garden itself was in the center of the dojo, exposed to the outside world but framed on all sides by the dojo itself. Tiberius sat on the stone bench and leant back, stretching his arms out to his side. He took a moment to admire the beauty that surrounded him before lying on his back. He slowly closed his eyes and began to drift off, waiting for Ally to finish her session.

Students in white Gis lined up in rows, hands by their sides, feet together, all focused towards the front. Some of the younger students, as well as the newer ones, fidgeted from this position, shifting their weight from one hip to the other or wobbling back and fourth. Ally couldn't blame them, the discipline for any martial art was quite demanding and could take time to develop. Overall, the class looked pretty good for beginners.

"Horse-riding stance!" Ally shouted, voice echoing in the silent class. Immediately, the students spread their legs and got into a squatting position, as if sitting atop an invisible horse. Although this stance wasn't used much in a real fight, the stance itself was great for building strength in the thighs and knees. Ally looked over the class, walking through the rows, adjusting stances as she saw fit.

She returned to the front of the class. Most of them had began to stand higher, alleviating the stress on their thighs. "Do you want to be strong?" Ally asked the class.

"Yes ma'am!" several students called weakly.

"Do you want to be strong?" Ally repeated, louder and more forceful.

"Yes ma'am!" the class called back in unison.

"Good! Everyone here is here to become stronger. To become strong..." Ally said, now going into her own horse stance. Her thighs were completely parallel to the ground while her fists rested at her hips. "You have to have a low, solid stance. This helps generate strength for powerful punches," she explained, throwing a punch. The snap of her gi was loud and strong, making some of the students in the front flinch. Many of the students shifted their stance, now lower.

She exited her horse stance and observed the class, smiling at their adjusted stances. "Now, as most of you know the Dragon Fist style is a very aggressive style. I want everyone to take in a deep breath through their mouth and hold it there." The students did as she asked, taking in deep breaths and holding them in. "Good, now let it out through your nose." The students did so, their chests lowering as they expelled the air.

"Remember how that felt. How I want everyone to breathe in a deep breath through your nose." The students followed their command, breathing in. The chests of many students seemed to be more filled than with breathing in through their mouths. "Great, now let it out through your mouth." She let them do this before continuing. "Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth allows for the oxygen to be taken in much more deeply than your mouth. Breathing through your mouth puts air in your chest; breathing through your nose puts air into your chest and stomach. This is the basic breathing technique for the Dragon Fist style. As I said before, the Dragon Fist style is extremely aggressive, so breathing is one of the most important aspects. If you can't take in enough air, you will not generate enough power and will tire very quickly."

She looked around the class, seeing their legs tremble as they continued to stand in their horse stance. Only another minute, she promised them in her mind, I know your legs are hurting. Just another minute.

Ally was broken out of her silent observations by almost as silent footsteps. Tiberius quietly walked up to her and gave her the message to meet in the garden. "Alright, thank you," Ally said. Once he began walking out, Ally told the class, "Get into your upright stance!"

As students moved from the horse stance to a more boxer's stance, Ally thought about her journey in the Dragon Fist dojo. She remembered seeing Tiberius's impressive fighting and wanting to be like him more than anything else. Over the years, his fighting improved dramatically, making his child tournament fighting almost laughable. Still, although he made leaps and bounds in his training, Ally never let him get too far away. Then again, he never let her catch up completely either. Although Ally might never admit it, she always knew this friendly rivalry was the reason she became the fighter she was today.

Now out of her thoughts, Ally examined the class's stance. "Just a reminder, make sure your arms are up, your knees are slightly bent, and your chest is facing forward, not slanted towards the wall." The class shifted, each individual making minor adjustments where needed.

"You all know how to through a jab and straight. Now, I want you to practice throwing those, but just as you complete your punch, let out a small gust of air," Ally said. Some students didn't seem to understand, so Ally went into her own stance.

"So, I'm going to start off by taking a deep breath through my nose," Ally said, demonstrating. "Then, when I punch I'll let out some of this air through my mouth." She sent a jab, releasing a small burst of air from her mouth as she finished the punch, creating the classic sst! sound of a boxer. "Everyone try this. Go!"

The class did, letting out somewhat sloppy punches and uneven breathing. This was expected as they never practiced their breathing before, especially not while punching. "Okay, everyone try the cross. Go!" The class did, giving the same mix of sloppiness and uneven breath.

"Okay, I'm going to count off and everyone will alternate between jabs and crosses. Ready? Go!"

As she counted off, each student sent a punch. As she counted higher and higher, the punches seemed to be lining up better with the breathing. Although anyone could look at them and see they were still beginners, the class was slowly improving. After a few more techniques and drills, Ally went through some strength and cardio exercises and dismissed the class for the day.

Once the students were cleared, Ally made her way to the garden. She wondered what Tiberius had to discuss with her and hoped it wasn't anything too serious. Outside of training and sparring, Ally considered Tiberius a great friend. However, considering they were still on Dragon Fist grounds, she couldn't be sure how serious the matters were.

Ally found Tiberius lying back on one of the stone benches, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. His relaxed demeanor told her the conversation definitely wasn't extremely serious. She had to admit it though, she envied his easygoing nature, how he could so easily detach himself from the world and relax.

"Something you wanted to talk about?" Ally asked softly, not wanting to scare him out of his peaceful state.

For the Gonjoda Dojo in Central Capitol, it was just another day of class. In the front you had the youngest trainees, in perfectly white Gi's and an excited look in their eyes. Towards the middle you had the teens, some in white Gis, some in other colors ranging from gray to blue with green, orange, and brown in-between, some of who were as excited as the young ones, some who were there to kill time, and some who were genuinely looking for self defense training. Now it should be noted that of the large group there, including the adults who were there in order to become good enough to enter the local tournament, the youngest looked up to the man in his dark red and black Gi as a hero. Jerus Goran was well known as the champion of the local tournament for the last four years and taking first in a World Tournament two years prior, after besting his own father for the title of World Champ. He was also known for taking out a couple of street gangs who had thought to try and "collect" protection money from the dojo owner, which was one of the big reasons he was liked so well by the town citizens.

However, on this day, he stood before the collection of all his classes with a smile on his face. All of these people had been taking his class due to various reasons, mainly his prices, but they were all excelling. He knew there were several youngsters who would be testing to remove their pure white Gi for one of gray and gold. It would be an important ceremony for them, because it meant that they had mastered the basics of Gonjoda and were ready to begin their lower level intermediary skills. "Alright, after your classes today, we'll have some rank tests, so don't wear yourselves ragged doing your drills and training. After that, I'm hosting a barbecue at home tonight to celebrate those who pass. Everyone's invited!" Cheers went up and Jerus dismissed them, watching them head for different rooms of the dojo still with a smile. He had been told many times that other Dojos, such as the Dragon's Fist Dojo in Parsley City, supposedly had more levels of skill between white and their mastery color, but he had fewer because he felt that the level of mastery needed to attain the next level was so much higher than other styles of martial arts. However, that was simply his personal feelings on the matter. Turning, he headed to his office to get some of the paperwork done before the Blues were ready for their tests.

As he walked by their training room, he glanced inside to check on the only other Red Gi wearer in the dojo, his prize pupil who had come in second in last year's local tournament. People believed that he had clearly had the advantage over this student, but both knew the match had been closer than it had appeared. Smiling in confidence, Jerus closed the door and stopped at a window looking outside where people walked along the streets. It was a serene scene, even with the loud hovercars flying by on the streets. It was a sign of normality.

---

Taeto had begun to walk off when a ill feeling stopped him in his tracks. He lifted his head as if to sniff it out when a deep metallic scraping raked the air. It was loud enough to be heard over the construction noise, which brought Taeto’s attention high up into the air. The wide-range lattice of metal beams were looking stable and in working order; until he spotted the issue.

One of the workers were on a length of metal that was dipping lower and lower. Somehow though, he was keeping it from falling completely. A metal beam one that was usually lifted by machine was being handled by a single man and a few laws of nature.

Taeto felt it then. That indescribable giddiness that would pop up at the worst times. During fights at schools usually, when the numbers were against him. But sometimes when he watched martial arts movies at home too. It was a thrilling kind of excitement.

An excitement that sent him into action. He ran into the site, his tail twitching, swaying back and forth, curling at its end. He looked around for a way up there knowing that he could help. For years, ever since he was but a kid, he had hold back his strength. Well now, he had met someone else who could do something like him. Something unnatural.

He groaned inwardly before snatching his hoodie off his head. “Fuck it, guess I’m climbing!”

He ran over to the mostly finished bottom half, making his way into the pseudo first-floor. It dark, sheltered from the sun for some reason. Behind him, he could hear a few men barking at him.

“Hey! You can’t be here!” shouted a burly voice.

“Don’t care!” Taeto barked back “I got this excitement swelling and I’m going to follow it all the way till the end,” he said mostly to himself.

Then came a ear-deafening roar. A name too. Patch? Did I hear that right?

He followed a flight a stairs up to a section of floor that was lit up. Above him was a straight shot to the sky, barring that tunnel of light was the lattice of beam-work. Taeto ran over to the beam closest to him and with some effort jumped up to its edge. He pulled himself up but found his legs shaking a bit now. Not until then had he ever wondered, Am I afraid of heights?

The wind toughened up a bit, rustling his clothes. Taeto felt himself quaking but told himself, If I don’t move now, I won’t ever move. Bit by bit he stood up until he was inching over to the next beam, then the next, and the next, until he had grown comfortable with his footing and was comfortably making his way to the straining man.

By now the warnings, grumblings, and all around frustration below was building. “Hold it just a bit longer,” he shouted from below. “I’m on my way!”

The wind brushed against him again, sliding his feet from under him and bringing his chin crashing into the beam he was walking on. A instant lance of pain traveled up his skull, blanketing his vision for a moment. “Ahhh! FUCK!” he cried, just barely holding on to the beam.

---

The red veins in Bolt's eyes seemed to increase and the branches of blood vessels about his temples and forehead were growing thicker just watching his supposed helper falling and eating it on the beam below. Was he there to help him? Could he help him?...Was that a monkey tail? As Bolt neared his strength's limit, he felt himself becoming rude in his struggle.

"What can you do monkey boy?" he scoffed. "You didn't bringa' crane or nothin'! How you gonna help me?"

A tad dazed and wobbly, Taeto just barely heard the man he was helping. He brought his hand down with a echoing thud against the metal beam. Through a hard smile, Taeto stood to his feet and let his instincts rush over him.

“That’s original,” he growled low. “How about you just watch guy! I don’t need a crane to help you.”

Screw him. I should leave him there but that insult reminded me my tail is actually useful. I just have to find its place and it’ll help balance me.

He let out a breath before lunging himself up to the next beam, praying that he could find his miracle. As planned, he landed up there but had begun to lose his footing rather quickly. He darted his tail around, finding that sacred place in the air that brought him evenness not a moment too late.

...Good.

That too hard, too large smile appeared on his face as he peered directly up at the helpless worker. “Suck on your insults why don’tcha,” he mocked while moving over to catch the leaning side of the beam. “Drop it to me!”

Bolt stared at Monkey Boy as though he were crazy. "What?!"

Taeto raised a brow of frustration at him. "You heard me! Drop it!"

"Are you insane? It'll crush ya!"

His arms fell to his sides. "Dude, just drop the damn beam.I'm strong too. I hold it for at least a little while."

Bolt couldn’t afford to hold the beam anymore even if he wanted to. He closed his eyes, clenching them tightly in regret for what he was about to do. He was about to drop a beam on an overconfident monkey boy. Lord, this ain’t my fault, he prayed. His fingers loosened, stretching out until the beam slipped free tumbling toward Taeto.

He didn’t need confirmation, rejection, or even words to know the man’s grip was slipping. Taeto could see it in the intense strain on his face, the low groans of failing determination. He braced himself haphazardly on the thin beam, shot his arms up, and waited for the results. To be honest he hadn’t know how heavy a metal beam of that size could weigh; all he had was confidence in his own power.

While he had caught it, the thick and growing veins in his arms and neck was telltale of his struggle. He clawed his voice from out the exertion. “Hel--Help!”

Just as Taeto caught the beam, instead of receiving help, all of a sudden Bolt had fell on top of the beam he held. His arms and legs dangled to either side of the beam, and he smiled down at Taeto blushing in embarrassment.

“Eh-Heh, muscle failure.”

The crane was already on its way with four construction crewmen riding the beam it carried. Two were balancing out one in, while the other two were carried closer to Bolt and the kid was holding up the beam all on his own.

“Hang on!” they told him. “We’re right here.”

Realization had finally dawned on him. While he understood that watching this worker perform the impossible had inspired some thrill in him, it was more clear now than before why it had. There was something… something different about him. All of the workers seemed meager compared to him. But in what way? Taeto wondered.

“I---Impossible!” he responded in turn whilst holding the beam up. “Get down here carrot top!” he growled, eyeing the mane of orange. His fingers dug evermore into the metal.

Bolt narrowed his eyes at Taeto as he growled, “What’d you call me, Monkey Boy?”

The workers on the crane drifted closer and secured a rope with a D-ring about the beam. The other end of the rope was secured to the other beam and one of the workers grabbed it, jumped down, and attempted to use his weight to lift the beam. The man remained aloft, the beam being too heavy. A second worker from the other end of the crane-held beam raced over to join the other worker on the rope. When both remained aloft, they both glared over at Bolt.

“Get off you lunkhead!”

Bolt scowled back at them and peered down at the beam Taeto was standing on. He carefully climbed down, using whatever strength he had left to lower himself. His arms felt so weak. He sat his rump down on the beam and sighed in relief. Taeto would feel some relief as the beam started to go up as the workers started to go down. The workers on the crane-held beam were raised higher so they could secure it.

Bolt looked over at Taeto first staring at the strange tail coming out of his ass. His eyes then rose to his rescuer. “You had me fooled. I thought you were just some kid (said like he was so much older than him).”

Taeto soaked in the searing pain of his arms. They laid limp at his side, his hands flushed with blood and thrumming with exhaustion. He looked through that man-made tunnel and up at the sky. Its once edgy wind was harmless now that his tail was twitching and correcting his balance.

He let out a labored breath and thought back, very quickly, to that hint of anger the man had displayed. He doesn’t like the name carrot top huh? I’ve gotten my fight now.

Still though… Taeto tilted his head to look Carrot Top head on. For a moment he considered their location then tossed it aside the moment his excitement flared to life at the possibilities. Taeto smiled hard at him. “Yea, I’m sure I did. Not many would guess I’m super strong. I’m more surprised you are too.”

Bolt smiled, blushing with flattery. "I wouldn't say super, but I'm pretty tough all right."

Taeto's smile fell into a hard line. "Yeaa, you are tough huh?" he repeated for reasons unknown to him. He reached down and grabbed his shaking left hand. A soft chuckle came from him. "I'm not too shabby myself. Tough is an understatement for me, Carrot Top." Carrot Top was spoken with a pinch of emphasis.

Bolt’s smile curled into something a little menacing as his orange brows converged on his forehead. Was the monkey trying to pluck a nerve? He couldn’t be. He had just helped him out. Bolt offered his hand up to Taeto, his forced smile still on his face. “Muh name’s actually Bolt. What’s yours?”

Taeto's gaze fell hard onto the man's hand. His cross-hair pupils shifting ever so slightly out of agitation. He smacked it aside with a deafening thwack. "I don't give a damn about your name, Carrot Top. I didn't save you because I'm some hero."

He took a few backsteps to make room between them. "I saved you for different reasons," he murmured as he lifted his heavy arms up in a typical and lacking fighting stance.

Bolt’s smile shifted to a frown when Taeto harshly slapped his hand away. “What’s your problem?”

When the monkey boy declared he had saved him for other reasons, Bolt’s eyes widened a little as he gave him a blank stare. When Taeto assumed what appeared to be a fighting stance, the Southern boy continued to regard him as though he didn’t recognize what was going on. His hand rose to his chin as he gave it an aimless scratch.

Arching a brow, Bolt asked in uncertainty, “…cuz you wanna dance?”

“Dance?” he questioned. Why would he assume dancing?

Then he realized, through the mind-numbing excitement, that everything he was doing probably looked crazy. Partial embarrassment reddened his cheeks. A part of him yelled that combat was normal. That to see someone you knew was strong and immediately attempt to fight them was natural.

And yet…

He ground his teeth into one another and formed a snarl at his next thought; his mom pleading for him to pretend to be normal. But how cou--how could he when he had all these unexplainable feelings and instincts inside of him.

Taeto spat out his indignation over the side of the beam. “I don’t wanna dance you fucking idiot. I wanna beat you into the ground!”

Tiberius opened his eyes to see Ally stood over him, fresh from tutoring her beginners class. The sky above was still clear making it a truly beautiful day. He sat himself up, pushing himself up of it and onto his feet. He reached his arms out to his side and leant back to stretch, pushing himself as hard as he could. Once he returned to being upright he looked across at Ally, her hair tied back behind her head. It meant that she was the version of Ally he often found himself spending most of his time with, the Ally who had kicked his derrier as much as he had kicked hers. The advantage of power and strength had been constantly swaying back and for between the two for years and showed no time of stopping. There was still a stigma in the world about losing a fight to a female, but with Ally there was no shame in it, something Tiberius had learnt the hard way.

With his focus now on her, he spoke in an almost mischievous tone, "Well to be quite honest with you, it's not just one thing..."

The man put his a hand into his pocket and began pacing back and forth along the cobbled path, gesturing with his free hand. "Yesterday I had an advanced class and some guy came in spouting about some dojo over in Central, it's called something like Gonjoda. He was on about being able to take us and all that sort of stuff but he didn't get very far before the students gave him the ol' bums rush."

Tiberius stopped moving and turned his gaze back towards Ally, his mischievous tone became more serious. "As you'd expect my dad's not all that bothered but I can't let that sort of disrespect go without paying them a visit."

He could already see by the look on Ally's face what she would say to his question, he then spoke with an almost fiendish smile on his face, "Are you in?"

In Ally's mind, Tiberius's mischievous tone was a good thing. It always promised some sort of adventure or challenge, and Ally wasn't about to let that go by. She watched as he paced around the garden, explaining the situation. A student from another dojo insulted their dojo and tried to attack an advanced class? And Ulysses didn't care? Ally could easily imagine Ulysses shaking his head at the matter and dismissing it as an irresponsible student.

"An arrogant student threatens our students and then loses a fight against them?" Ally chuckled, shaking her head. It sounded completely ridiculous. Really, Ally figured the student most likely fought a couple inexperienced fighters in his gym and thought he was the best. Still, going to the gym to clear up any confusion would be better than sweeping it under the carpet. Perhaps they would be challenged by some of Gonjoda's instructors. The thought of a fight against another gym for honor make a chill run through her spine. A grin almost as mischievous as Tiberius's appeared on the young fighter's face, "Do you really have to ask me if I'm in or not?"

Ally clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly. Thinking about a possible fight made her feel antsy. She knew Tiberius felt the same. The excitement of a new challenger always made them excited. "And the other things you wanted to discuss?" Ally asked, though she felt she knew the answer. If he was as eager as her, he would ask for their favorite pass times without hesitation.

Tiberius smiled wide even though he knew her answer before she spoke. She was as dedicated to his father and his dojo as much as Tiberius ever was, she was basically family. They fought and argued like brother and sister, the one upmanship something that most siblings take for granted.

"Obviously keep this to yourself for now, I don't need my father kicking up a fuss. We just need to go there, sort this out and tell him about it afterwards." He didn't have to say it, but he just felt more comfortable for it. His father would scold them for going whatever the outcome but they just couldn't let the slight stand.

"As for the other thing..." He raised his hand in front of his face, clenching his fist tight and causing his knuckles to crack. "...it's time..." He could have just thrown a punch straight at her and got started there and then, but they had ruined the garden several times before from their impulsive fights. Each time they would spend a week afterwards repairing the damage and getting the silent treatment from Tiberius' father.

Before Ally had a chance to respond Tiberius broke into a sprint and headed towards the dojo's World Tournament regulation arena.

---

Mr. Grizzly glared up at the two boys, but he was mostly concerned with Bolt. He raised his meaty fists and slammed them upon the wooden railing and bellowed: “PATCH! YOU GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE NOW!”

Bolt tensed, grinned sheepishly down at Mr. Grizzly and waved. He then lowered his hand, turned over onto the beam, and lowered himself down to the fifth beam. He released the sixth one as his boots thudded onto it. The orange-haired teen straightened out of his crouch and glared up at Taeto before he told him, “Look, I dunno what yer problem is but I gotta go. I got sum explainin’ to do to the boss, and if I don’t get down there, he’ll have my ass. Whatever’s goin’ on with you will hafta’ wait until after work.”

He then turned toward the tunnel and started for the steps.

Taeto snickered, more so at Bolt’s glare than his words. He let the construction worker’s statement bounce around in his head. Even if he wanted too, the feeling in his stomach, the one pounding around just itching and begging for a fight, wouldn’t let him.

He bent his knees slightly and dropped to the fifth beam. His tail twitched left then right once he landed, watching the orange-haired worker stride towards the stairs.

Sorry but I’m not letting you slip through my fingers.

Taeto, all of sudden, dashed towards him with his left fist cocked back, “Yo!” he barked. “You’re not going anywhere, Bloody Mary!”

Bolt peered briefly over his right shoulder, and then uttered a curse, Shit! before he started to run. He quickly started down the stairs. “Go away! I’m not gonna fight you, you maniac!”

And the chase was on. Taeto abandoned his preemptive strike in order to keep up. He felt himself gaining on the guy.

He grinned largely at the insult. “I’m guessing those useless muscles are weighing you down,” he chuckled.

Bolt bolted through the EXIT doorway that a door hadn’t been attached to yet. He couldn’t believe this was happening. This was so stupid, and if he planned to fight him in front of Mr. Grizzly, then he was going to be pissed—and so was his boss. “You can’t keep chasin’ me! It makes you look gay!”

He turned left toward one of the open windows, lacking a window installment. There was a window chute extending four stories to the ground. Bolt hopped out the window and slid down the chute turned sideways and in a crouch. His left arm was stretched out for balance and his right clutched his yellow hardhat. His orange ponytail fluttered behind him as he bore his teeth in panic. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit!

Right before he reached the bottom, he jumped off, dropped to his feet and rolled to break his fall and the momentum. Springing back to his feet, Bolt made a dash for Mr. Grizzly who was leaning over the rail with his big sharp teeth bared as though he was going to eat him alive.

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED UP THERE, PATCH!?” Mr. Grizzly boomed.

“There’s this weird fella’ chasin’ me!” Bolt reported before he raced up the porch and hid behind the bear. “He trynna’ fight me for some reason.”

Mr. Grizzly growled, leaned off the railing and turned around to gaze at the kid hiding behind him. “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT! WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE BEAM? YOU COULD HAVE CAUSED AN ACCIDENT!”

He was so hot on the mouse’s heels that he could almost wrench him back by his girlish ponytail. In fact Taeto had tried twice on the way down but failed both times. “ Come on, gramps, stop struggling!”

He fell into a sideways roll once they reached the end of the chute, skidding to a stop in the midst of a bunch of workers. He just barely caught sight of him as the man dashed towards the grizzly foreman of Quad C for shelter.

You’re not safe yet, buddy.

It had not escaped him that the situation had changed. However, all it needed now was a bit of finessing. “Could have?!” Taeto said aloud. “I’d say he did cause one. I mean what kind of competent worker causes all that big of a ruckus. Not to mention...” Taeto eye’d Bolt mischievously as he rubbed his arms. “I think I was injured during the whole mess. Bear Guy, that can’t get the company in trouble can it? Maybe I should call a Budd Bot over and ask it.”

A rumbling growl escaped Mr. Grizzly as he turned toward the kid with the…monkey tail. He stared at the boy’s tail for a long moment until Taeto attempted to scare him with his bullshit. The bear pointed a clawed finger at Taeto. “YOU CALL A BUDD BOT, AND I’LL TELL IT YOUR MEASLY-ASS WAS TRESPASSING! AND YOU STILL ARE! WHY DON’T YOU BEAT IT KID!”

Bolt peeked from around Mr. Grizzly’s hip to give Taeto a victorious grin.

That mocking smile had flipped Taeto's switch.

His excitement was now boiling with anger. The tail that the foreman was staring at had lashed out at the ground with heavy THUD!, showcasing the strength it possessed. Taeto’s mischievous gaze had evened out into indifference. His smile now a soft line on his adolescent face.

He sauntered toward the two without hesitation. “If you touch me I’m going to put you down,” he said specifically to the bear.

“Bolt, you’re not getting out of this. I’ll tear this all this down if that’s what it takes. You know that I can.” He wasn’t necessarily lying, it would just take some time and grit. He stopped mere inches from the grizzly foreman, his fist balled and ready to strike.

Mr. Grizzly hunched his hulking form over to peer down at the boy. His snout wrinkled, maw rolling back to reveal his dagger-like teeth as he growled, “YOU BEST MOVE ALONG BOY BEFORE I SEND YOU BACK TO YOUR MAMA!”

A sweat bead drooped down the side of Bolt’s head as he stared at the back of Mr. Grizzly. Had the boss not seen how he held the beam and put a hole in the ground with his tail? “Hey, don’t make’im angry, Boss. Just call a Budd Bot or somethin’. He’s gotta screw loose and he’s pretty dangerous!”

Mr. Grizzly turned his head over his shoulder and snarled at Bolt, “YOU BROUGHT HIM IN HERE PATCH! YOU SHOULD GET RID OF HIM! I DON’T WANNA ACIDENTALLY BREAK HIS TINY BONES!”

Bolt’s ponytail could have stood straight up in shock. “WHAT?! I didn’t bring’im in here! I don’t even know the guy. He just started attackin’ me!”

Mr. Grizzly growled again and turned his attention back to Taeto.

“I’m giving you till the count of three, Mr. foreman. One.” Taeto begun, his right foot taking a definitive step back.

Bolt was starting to sweat at Taeto’s threat. He rested a hand on Mr. Grizzly’s hip, trying to pull the hulking bear back.

“Uh, Boss, y’know maybe yer right. I can handle’im. Don’t worry 'bout it,” Bolt assured.

The bear’s big black snout nearly jabbed Bolt in his eye when it swung around. His fish breath blasted in Bolt's face like a blow dryer of funk.

“YOU CALLING ME WEAK?” the bear bellowed.

Bolt’s eyes turned red and started to water. He turned his face away and began rubbing at his eyes.

The bear faced Taeto and trudged closer to him. “I COULD SNAP THIS KID IN TWO!”

Taeto’s jaw tightened at the frustration of having to go so far. His left fist became rigid as he pulled it back chest-level. ”TWO!” he yelled, reassuring himself that he would throw the punch.

Bolt poked his head passed Mr. Grizzly and angrily yelled, “Just piss off ya damn dirty ape!”

Why don’t they ever heed the warning.

“Three,” he said with finality. While simultaneously thrusting his fist quicker-than the average eye could perceive into the grizzly’s thick-furred gut. Within its heavy folds, he forced the friction between the punch and its impact forth, his balled fist rotating, a gust of air disturbing the staleness.

Mr. Grizzly’s eyes bulged and his cheeks inflated with air. Bolt blankly glanced at Taeto’s fist and then up at his boss’s face. The large bear folded over, dropped to his knees, and buried his face into the porch. Bolt’s mouth fell open in stunned silence.

“Did you just kill my boss!?” Bolt exclaimed.

He rested his hands on the bear’s back and shook him. He received no response. Retracting his hands, Bolt inhaled deeply and exhaled a long exasperated sigh.

“All right. You gon’an done it,” Bolt growled. “Ain’t nobody hit the man who pays me and get away wit’ it.”

Bolt grasped his hard hat by the bill, removed it from his head, and placed it down on the back of Mr. Grizzly’s head. He then turned to face Taeto, his orange brows knitted in a scowl. His fingers curled into his palms, balling into large fists. The bones in his hands cracked softly as a cool gust spiraled up his body causing his white, sweat-stained tank and bladed bangs to ripple. Behind his head, his ponytail whipped behind him much like monkey boy’s tail did in his excitement. A power surged through his veins, causing his chest to inflate with his energized breaths.

“If itsa’ fight you want. You gonna get it,” he growled.

Bolt’s left foot slid a foot forward, his right remained where it was as he raised his arms. His arms curled at the elbows. His fists rose to his face resting against his mouth as his blue eyes fiercely peered over them. The teen facing Taeto seemed to be a whole different person.

"Yeah, of course," Ally agreed as Tiberius described their goals for making their way to the gym. Sure, she wanted a possible fight at the other gym- whether it be one in positive or negative spirits-, but resolving the situation was their main priority. Plus, didn't he mention it was in Capital City? She couldn't remember the last time she visited her brother and father since she was so busy with Dragon Fist training and instructing. She decided she would do her best to make time to visit her family after taking care of the gym situation.

Tiberius then clenched his fist and raced away to the World Tournament regulation arena. Ally chuckled. Maybe she didn't need a fight from another gym. She sprinted after him, trailing behind by a mere few feet. The woman kicked at the ground as hard as she could, trying to gain speed. She shook her head; no matter what she did it always felt like she was one step behind Tiberius. Not today!

She followed him up and to the arena, body warmed from the mini race. "You ready to get your butt kicked today?" she teased, rolling out her neck. Though she joked, she knew every fight with Tiberius was a fierce one. Both refused to let the other win, to let the other prove superior. It was as though whenever one of them came out on top, the other proved triumphant the next time around. Initially, this drove Ally insane. On top of that, Tiberius received extra training from his father from a young age. Ally always wondered if she had received the same training, would she be as strong as Tiberius today, or stronger? Although these thoughts occasionally nagged at her mind, she learned to let the anger from them go. Regardless of past training, they were both excellent fighters, and Ally wouldn't trade that for the world.

Her gaze, now hard and focused, was on her rival. "I'm ready when you are."

In seconds Severa's grisly handiwork faded from both sight and mind, the whole encounter a predictable and forgettable interlude. Lacking in subtlety, it left no impression, but nevertheless accomplished its function of adding another layer of reinforcement to the untold thousands that defined the girl's fighting ability. When the last trace of torchlight was minutes away, Severa allowed herself to slow down. Her face, mired though it was in the near-total darkness, bore the hollow sort of indifference that this world trained upon it; not an ounce of fear polluted her being, not necessarily due to her conditioning, but instead a product of the simple fact that nothing in this place was scary. Boring but lethal was not so much as a hell but a grindstone, a nightmare that rendered its occupants dead even if its repetitive horrors did not kill them. No courage could be gleaned from Severa's stride as she made her way up an incline that led out of the twisted forest—just drilled-in efficiency. When the hill gave way to a sudden drop high above a basin, she sat upon the black grass at the edge, her legs dangling off the precipice. Beneath the starless black sky, she held her head in her hands.

The tingling took a little longer to fade. For as long as she could remember, every time that something died by her hand, an undeniable sensation of pleasure had blossomed in her brain. There had been a time that she reveled in it, riding the high of slaughter for days on end, but something had changed. Severa could not remember what, or why, for in this place all memories grew hazy save for those forged in the rush of combat, but she learned that this jolt of euphoria did not come from inside herself. She knew it to be a manipulation, though she could say nothing else about it with certainty. From the day of that revelation, Severa learned to keep those impulses under control. In doing so, she found in time that she saved herself from the only truly frightening thing in her reality: the killers.

A light in the distance seized her attention, forcing her to displace all other thoughts as she hastened to process the unknown stimulus and assess the threat. Across the empty space of the water-filled gorge, something metal reflected the stark glare of the moon. It appeared to be attached to a dark shape, and as Severa, watched, it made a slight movement, and the sound of a bell filtered across the gap. One of us, she understood, and in reply she lifted her hand. Around her palm, the air began to spin, forming a bright blade that revolved for a second before she let it dissipate. Her signal given, she continued to observe as the stranger seated itself on the opposing cliff.

While the possibility of a threat remained, the person across the way shared much with her. Whoever it was, it wasn't a killer, though defining what a killer was in the first place led to much trickiness. Every individual like Severa, every survivor, needed to kill and kill and kill again just to make it to the next day. As far as her scattered encounters informed her, Severa felt sure that each one received the same stimulus as she for the act of murder. Then there were non-survivors who fit the mold of murderer with extreme precision, but they were allied, so to speak, with the monstrous things in this plane; their status as enemies could not be questioned. The difference, then, had to be in awareness; some of the survivors, during their wanderings, knew that something was wrong, that a true mystery and a true danger dwelt beneath the surface. Then, there were those who did not care about what might be going on beneath, those for whom the carnage was everything. Their quest for gratification, for the rush of blood, consumed them completely. Severa knew from experience that it wasn't intelligence or cunning they lacked; the only difference between she and they was that she could bury the drive to maim and slay, and they could not. But why did she bother? Why did any of the abstainers? Really, she had no idea. The bell-ringer, across the way, probably didn't either. Still, here they were, a couple hundred feet apart yet altogether close in spirit.

Soon, this little rendezvous would have to end. It wasn't her first, and with any degree of luck it wouldn't be her last. Another constant, observable by the abstainers: if several lingered too long in any one place, whether or not they engaged one another in combat, monsters would appear from the woodwork. This, Severa felt, happened too predictably to be mere coincidence. It served to further her ideas about the existence of some manipulator, who contrived to keep the abstainers apart. This did not dissuade her from trying when the opportunity arose; meetings like this, where the most eventful communication might be a distant wave from each party, kindled inside her a strange sensation like the fiery joy that ignited in her when she killed, but much, much weaker, and smoother. It felt like a more natural good, rather than the good that struck her like lightning to incentivize further bloodshed, and Severa assigned to it value for that reason.

Rallying her weary muscles, she forced herself to her feet. “Live on,” she whispered, her voice a croak from lack of practice, though her words lost in the warm breeze. Severa gave a stiff wave to the unknown stranger, and the bell rang out once again. Then, she started to move in the direction the water flowed far below. A horde could appear at any moment, and in an effort to establish her own self with what little power she had, she wished to avoid further combat if at all possible.

---

---

Bolt stared at Taeto. There wasn’t a drop of sympathy on his face as he turned his back on the monkey and walked over to his boss. What was with that kid trying to be friendly all of a sudden? He was such a freak. Bolt gazed sadly upon the large bear and walked up the steps to kneel before him. Resting his hand upon his furry shoulder, Bolt nudged him.

“Boss? Boss, are you all right?” he asked.

The bear grunted, trembled, and then cracked open his brown eyes. A low growl rolled from his maw. His eyesight was still a blur but he managed to make out the beige and orange blob standing before him.

“Patch…” he rasped.

Bolt smiled in relief. “Yes, Boss. I roughed up that kid who punched ya. Roughed’im up good-”

“You’re fired.”

Bolt froze. Was he serious? It was the bear’s last words before his head struck the porch again. Bolt turned around to face Taeto, his face still petrified with horror. He was fired…he couldn’t be fired! His father was going to kill him! Bolt’s hands finally rose to his head. His fingers curled into his orange hair as he screamed in panic, “Aaaaaaah!”

How could the day get any worse? A construction worker entered the Quad C construction site and pointed at Taeto and Bolt. Standing next to him was a black machine that was humanoid in make. A white sphere behind its red visor rolled between Taeto and Bolt as the construction worker accused, “There they are! They were fighting and nearly brought this whole construction site down. The one with the tail harmed our boss!”

The Budd Bot’s red visor flashed as it replied on a low machine-like voice: “Buddabuddabudda, Witness Reporting Domestic Violence and Vandalism, buddabudda.”

Bolt exclaimed, “WHAT? Jerry, I thought we was pals?”

The Budd Bot glanced at the construction worker and Jerry paled, quickly waving his hands dismissively. “I don’t know him. We might work together but that’s it! I don’t know a thing about him! Nope! Not me!”

Bolt frowned at the coward. Darn it. I’m not gettin’ arrested today. He turned to run and then paused, gazing back at monkey boy. Why did he care about him? Wasn’t he to blame for all of this? Clenching his eyes closed, Bolt bore his teeth, and cursed under his breath, cursing at himself for being so nice. He jumped off the porch, sprinted over to Taeto, and slung his arm over his shoulder. “You slow me down and I’ll leave ya!”

Bolt’s legs then became a comical, panicky blur as he sprinted across the construction site toward one of the fenced-off perimeter walls. “Get ready to jump!”

He then sprang with Taeto over the fence. The Budd Bot remained where it stood, having recorded the entire situation and was sending descriptions and data to all the Budd Bots and police radios in the city.

“Suspects of Domestic Violence, Vandalism, and Resisting Arrest…Pursue, Pursue, Pursue, Budda!” the Budd Bot sounded before it turned out of the construction site and raced down the sidewalk in pursuit.

---

Taeto had been focusing far too hard on standing, so hard in fact that after Bolt had ignored him, Taeto simply went to measuring his breathing and taking it one step at a time. He numbered each breath and with those numbers came a single step forward. Damn, he cursed, albeit while wearing a smile. Bastard really did a number on me. Can't believe, Carrot Top left me here.

A moment of hindsight ceased his complaints.

Well I guess I deserve it. Mom's not gonna be happy about this.

The low mechanized hum of a Budd Bot snatched his attention from walking. He looked up at the red visor of the machine-man. I feel like those are the things, Mom told me to avoid. Fuuuck! His knees buckled then and he fell to his bottom with a thud. He was screwed, so screwed.

Then Bolt showed up. Taeto grinned at his sharp-tongued warning. "Strong and chivalrous. Yea, you're definitely the hero-type."

The two sailed over the fence and Taeto tightened his hold on Bolt's neck. "Hope we don't make the news." he mumbled once they landed. "If you head towards the school, make a right, then keep straight for two blocks. My house is there; we can lay low for a bit."

---

---

As Bolt ran with Taeto—mostly feeling like he was carrying the guy and regretting having ever slammed him (or fought him—the feisty bastard!)—he listened to Taeto suggest his mother’s house for a hole-up-sight. “Are ya serious? Yer mama’s house? You wanna bring the po-po (and not the Mister kind) to yer Ma’s? It’s gonna draw too much attention, and you might make her an’ accomplice with how messed up these bots are.”

Bolt cut down an alley to avoid three bots that were trying to close in on them from their twelve o’clock, nine o’clock and six o’clock. He raced down the alley, his blue eyes frantically searching for an escape route. He saw a window on the third floor, and he didn’t have time to consider whose house he was about to B&E.

“Hold on!” Bolt warned. He stopped abruptly and crouched low before he sprang into the air toward a fire escape. Landing on the fire escape, he started up to the third floor. The Budd Bots gathered beneath the fire escape and gazed up at the two fleeing perpetrators. Bolt ran over to the end of the fire escape closest to the window.

“Sorry Monkey, I’m gonna hafta’ use ya!”

Bolt faced Taeto, grabbed him by his arms and would attempt to swing him around before releasing him toward the window, hoping to use his body to smash open the window. Hopefully, there wasn’t anyone in the room (or dressed inappropriately).

---

"Use me?" he repeated as Bolt faced him.

By the time he realized what that had meant, he had been tossed with some force into a window. It shattered against his body, shards breaking but luckily avoiding stabbing him in places. Inside he sat up, feeling the ache of his body stronger than ever. Fuck that hurt. Then it came to mind that Bolt threw him through the window. Surely there was a easier way to open it up. That orange-haired bastard probably did that on purpose! If we survive this bullshit, I'll rematch him and shove his face into the dirt with a fancy kick and powerful punch.

"W-What the?" he heard come directly next to him.

Taeto turned to his left, only to see a narrow-eyed coyote eating cube steak with a fork. It wasn't long before the screams of a woman and children ruptured out. He rolled off the dinner table, prepared with mashed food and hearty meats. "Sorry," he muttered now on the floor, standing up hastily before stumbling back down. "Damn you, Bolt!" he mustered.