Fighting Chance Vol 2 #7

Three hours of hitting things and the only thing keeping him from climbing the walls was the steady rhythm of fist on heavy bag. Sweat poured off him like he’d been dunked in a pool, white t-shirt plastered to his back and chain coiled around his waist getting hot enough to burn if he let it sit wrong, but stopping meant thinking and thinking meant seeing those kids’ faces again.

Not happening.

He threw another combination, left hook followed by a right cross that sent the heavy bag swinging wide enough to rattle the chains holding it up. His wrapped hands were raw underneath the tape, knuckles probably bleeding again, but pain was good because pain meant he was moving and moving meant he wasn’t standing still long enough for his brain to catch up with what they’d seen down in that basement.

“You good, kid?” Colleen’s voice cut through the sound of his breathing and the steady thump of leather against his fists, but he didn’t stop throwing punches because stopping was admitting something was wrong and nothing was wrong, everything was perfectly fine, just working off some energy after a long night.

“Yeah, I’m good.” The words came out between exhales, choppy and rough, but confident enough that maybe she’d buy it and let him keep hitting things until his arms fell off or his brain finally shut up about price tags and children’s faces.

But he’s not good. The thought slipped through his defenses like a sucker punch, bringing with it flashes of memory that made his next punch wobble off-center. Those kids’ faces won’t leave his head. Sophia’s hollow eyes, the way she’d flinched when Vince’s flames had sparked up, and that damn question. Are you here to hurt us too?

He shook his head hard enough to rattle his teeth and threw himself back into the rhythm, because rhythm was safe and rhythm meant not thinking about how easy it would be to find those men again, how good it would feel to wrap his chain around their throats and squeeze until they understood what it meant to be helpless.

“Kid, something’s eating you and it’s not one of the rats outside,” Colleen let out a little sigh, and he knew without looking that his sensei was rolling her eyes. “Any more of that and you’ll wear down your knuckles.”

“Nah, I’m good. I can keep going.” He punctuated the words with another combination, muscles screaming in protest but not loud enough to drown out the noise in his head. Thinking meant remembering and he really didn’t want to remember.

“I said enough.” Her tone sharpened, and suddenly, it was all too clear that she hadn’t been asking before and definitely wasn’t now.

No, she was telling, using that voice that meant arguments weren’t welcome.

Zain stopped mid-punch, scowling at her while his feet kept moving, bouncing on his toes because standing still felt like dying and dying felt too much like giving up. “I said I’m good!”

The words came out louder than he meant, echoing off the dojo walls and making him wince because… I sound like a lil baby throwing a tantrum. He clicked his tongue. What’s wrong with me? Colleen didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, just kept looking at him with that patient expression that somehow made him feel smaller and more exposed than if she’d started yelling back.

He stopped pacing, stared at the heavy bag like it had personally insulted his mother, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering against his ribs and the way his hands kept twitching toward his chain. Wonder if they’re already out on bail. The thought hit him like a physical blow, because of course they were probably already out, probably already back to their business of buying and selling children like trading cards. Probably back to hurting kids.

“Yo, Sensei…” His voice came out quieter than usual, less bouncy, like someone had let half the air out of his usual bravado. “Can I ask you something?”

Colleen stopped putting away equipment, turned to look at him fully, and something in her posture shifted from instructor mode to something more careful, more focused. “What’s on your mind?”

“Like… hypothetically…” He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of the question before it fully formed, because once he said it out loud there’d be no taking it back. “Is it ever okay to kill someone?”

Colleen went completely still, hands frozen halfway through coiling a rope, and Zain could practically see her brain shifting gears from casual conversation to something much more serious.

“Way to drop a heavy question, kid.” Sensei clicked her tongue, looking his way as her eyebrow went all the way up. “Did you…”

Zain glanced over at her, blinking in confusion before quickly catching on. “No! No, I didn’t… noooo.”

Colleen let out a sigh. “No problem… well, not no problem, but still had to ask.” Another sigh forced it’s way out of her lips before his sensei shifted her weight and looked at him a second longer. “Well… In self-defense? I suppose. If someone’s trying to kill you or someone else.”

She set down the rope, gave him her full attention, and suddenly the dojo felt smaller, more intimate, like they were having a conversation that mattered in ways he wasn’t ready to think about. “But taking a life… that’s not something you come back from. Changes you. Forever.”

The certainty in her voice made something twist in his stomach, because she wasn’t guessing or theorizing. She knew. She’d either done it herself or seen what it did to people who had, and the weight of that knowledge sat between them like a third person in the room.

“Why you asking? This about those traffickers?”

Zain started shadowboxing, couldn’t help himself, fists moving in familiar patterns while his brain tried to figure out how to answer without admitting that he’d spent the last three hours imagining exactly what it would feel like to kill every single person involved in that nightmare. “Just… wondering. Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically, killing should be the last option. Not the first.” Colleen’s voice was steady, but there was something underneath it, something that sounded like experience talking. “And if you’re asking the question, you’re probably not ready for the answer.”

“Yeah, but what if the last option is the only one that works?” He kept shadowboxing, combinations flowing together in chains that his body knew by heart, muscle memory taking over while his brain wrestled with thoughts too big and dark for someone his age to be having.

“Then you better be damn sure there’s no other way.” She moved closer, watching his form with the same intensity she usually reserved for teaching new techniques. “And you better be ready to live with whatever comes after.”

He kept throwing punches at invisible opponents, but his body was starting to give in to the three hours of punishment he’d been dishing out. Colleen hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said it had been three hours. Zain hadn’t eased up, pushing himself as hard as he could to work out all the stress and rage and helplessness that had been eating at him since they’d walked out of that warehouse and left monsters to face a justice system that probably wouldn’t keep them locked up long enough to matter.

Colleen was still eyeing him from the other side of the room, clearly more curious about his ‘hypothetical’ question than she was letting on, but before she could dig deeper into territory he wasn’t ready to explore, something else demanded his attention.

The sweat wasn’t just dripping off him anymore, it was pouring like he’d just finished running a marathon in the middle of summer. His white t-shirt was completely soaked through, sticking to his back and chest like a second skin, and the chain around his waist had gotten hot enough that he could feel the metal through his shirt. His hands were still wrapped but he could feel blood seeping through the tape around his knuckles, and his muscles were screaming at him to stop, to rest, to acknowledge that human bodies had limits even when enhanced.

But instead of exhaustion, there was something else. Energy crackling under his skin like static electricity, not angry exactly, but restless, demanding, like his body was generating power faster than he could burn it off. It felt like being plugged into an electrical socket, like every nerve was firing at once and creating some kind of feedback loop that made him want to move even when his muscles were begging for mercy.

“What the hell?” He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the feeling, but it just spread deeper, radiating out from his chest and down his arms like liquid lightning.

“What is it now?” Colleen’s voice carried a note of exasperation, probably because he’d been acting weird all afternoon and now he was adding mysterious energy surges to the list of things she had to worry about.

“I dunno. Feel like I got ants under my skin or some shit.” He flexed his fingers, watching the way the muscles in his forearms jumped and twitched under the skin. The sensation was getting stronger, more focused, like something was building pressure behind his sternum and looking for a way out.

“You sure you alright over there? You look… I don’t know, wired?” Colleen had abandoned any pretense of cleaning up and was now watching him with the kind of attention she usually reserved for evaluating opponents before a fight.

“Yeah, I’m—” He started to brush off her concern, because that’s what he always did, but then an idea hit him and the words died in his throat. “Wait, hold up.”

He clenched his fist and pale blue light flickered around it for a second, not bright like a flashlight, just a shimmer like heat waves rising off summer asphalt. The light danced across his knuckles and between his fingers before fading away, leaving him staring at his hand like it belonged to someone else.

“Sensei, did you see that?”

“See what?” Colleen’s voice was carefully neutral, but her eyes were sharp, focused on his hands with the kind of intensity that meant she’d definitely seen something even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.

“My hand, it was— never mind.” He shook his head, trying to convince himself he’d imagined it, but the energy under his skin was still there, still building, still demanding to be used. He focused on that crackling feeling, trying to understand what was happening to his body, trying to make it happen again.

Come on, come on…

The light flickered again, stronger this time, bright enough that shadows shifted across the dojo walls. It wrapped around his fist like liquid electricity, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat, and suddenly he knew with absolute certainty that this wasn’t his imagination or some kind of stress-induced hallucination.

“Let me try something.” The words came out before he could stop them, because his brain had already decided what he was going to do and his mouth was just along for the ride.

He walked up to the brick wall that formed the back of the dojo, the one Colleen had told him was load-bearing and absolutely not for punching under any circumstances. The energy in his arm was coiling like a spring, building pressure that demanded release, and the wall looked like exactly the kind of solid, immovable target that could handle whatever he was about to throw at it.

He drew back his fist, feeling that energy gather in his shoulder and flow down his arm like molten metal. Every instinct he had was screaming that this was a terrible idea, that punching brick walls was a good way to break bones and prove that enhanced strength had limits, but the energy under his skin was drowning out logic with its electric song.

He threw the punch.

CRACK.

The sound echoed through the dojo like a gunshot, loud enough that someone upstairs banged on the floor in complaint. A spiderweb of fractures spread across the brick, radiating out from the point of impact like broken glass, and dust and small chunks of masonry rained down on his shoes. The cracks ran deep, at least three inches into the brick, and mortar dust covered his hand like powder.

His hand didn’t hurt. 

At all.

“What the— what the fuck?” He stared at his fist, flexing his fingers and rotating his wrist, but there was no pain, no swelling, nothing to indicate that he’d just punched through a brick wall with his bare hand. “Did I just… did I just break a brick wall?”

He looked up at the damage, really seeing it for the first time. The cracks ran deep and wide, turning a solid brick into something that looked like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Well, a brick in a wall, anyway. The whole entire chunk of brick would probably need to be replaced, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Sensei kicked his ass up and down all day for destroying part of her dojo.

Yet, that last part wasn’t the main thing on his mind as of right now.

No, what stood out was…

“I don’t even feel it.” He turned his hand over, examining his knuckles, but there wasn’t even a scrape to be seen, not even the normal throb-throb that you’d expect when you hit something hard like a goddamn brick wall. The energy that had been building under his skin was gone, discharged into the brick, leaving him feeling oddly empty and simultaneously more alive than he’d felt all day.

Colleen had stopped putting away equipment completely now, walking over to examine the damage with the kind of calm that meant she was either about to start yelling or about to say something that would change everything he thought he knew about the world.

“Huh.” She ran her finger along the cracks, testing their depth, checking the structural integrity of the remaining brick. Not shocked, but definitely interested, like she was solving a puzzle she’d seen pieces of before.

“You been holding out on me, kid?” Her tone was casual but her eyes didn’t hide the sharp glare being sent his way. “This normal for you, or…?”

“I… nah, that ain’t… what the hell was that?” He flexed his fingers again, watching the way tendons moved under his skin, but everything felt normal, human, exactly the same as it had five minutes ago. “It felt like… like my punch had weight to it.”

The words felt inadequate, couldn’t capture the sensation of having liquid lightning in his veins, couldn’t explain the way the energy had flowed through him like he was a conduit for something much bigger and more dangerous than enhanced human strength.

“Like I had lightning in my veins or some shit. Like I could punch through a car.” That might have been an exaggeration but he couldn’t deny it felt like a rush, like he’d tapped into something that could reshape the world if he knew how to use it properly.

Colleen studied him quietly for a long moment, and he could practically see gears turning in her head, connecting dots he couldn’t even see. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

“Really?” His voice pitched higher with interest, because if Colleen had seen this before then maybe he wasn’t losing his mind, maybe this was something that could be understood and controlled instead of just another weird thing to add to his growing list of problems.

“Well… something like it. Back home, in Japan, there was this… loser with a dojo.” Her voice took on a dismissive tone, like she was talking about someone who’d annoyed her on a personal level. “Guy was trying to get students to follow him to Hong Kong or something.”

She clicked her tongue in irritation. “Musclehead thought he was hot shit, you know? Real arrogant flashy idiot type. He could do stuff like that. Break boards without touching them.”

She clicked her tongue. “Called it ‘ki’ but nobody with sense believed him.”

Ki. Zain’s eyes widened and they dropped down to his hands as that word seemed to unlock something, the energy in his body almost singing as it all made sense, the ki feeling more like another limb rather than something entirely new. 

Ki. As any red-blooded All-American boy his age would be expected to, he knew of Dragon Ball Z, and he loved every bit of it, from the manga to the anime to almost all of the games. The idea that he had that same sort of power now was… insane.

“Ki,” the word left his lips breathlessly.

“Don’t get your hopes up, kid,” the older teenager said with a snort, clearly seeing the excitement in his eyes. “That ki stuff, it’s… at best it’s a myth. A complete fairytale, okay? And that’s me being nice.”

Zain blinked. “Is it, though?”

“Yes,” she shot back with a glare. “At worst, it’s bullshit. Not even martial arts masters have that stuff.” Colleen’s voice carried the weight of absolute certainty, like she was talking about the color of the sky. “And trust me, I’ve met some masters.”

“But?” He knew there was a ‘but’, he could see it in her face.

“Honestly? Thought it was bullshit till I saw it. Dude shot an energy ball out his hands, thing could break through a wooden board. Probably some kind of Wonder like you.”

Her tone shifted, became more instructor-like as she shifted into Sensei Wing Teaching Pose #1. “Still, I wouldn’t rely on it, kid. You need control, not cheap power. Real fighting’s about fundamentals, not… whatever this is. That guy I mentioned? Ended up hospitalized.”

He licked his lips, oddly nervous. “H-how?”

“Idiot tried to show off, pissed off a master and got his ass kicked before he shipped off back to Hong Kong.” She finished the sentence with a roll of her eyes. “I got to see it all and take it as a reminder that power without control is just a good way to hurt yourself.”

“‘Course, Sensei Collie.” He bowed without thinking about it, partly because she’d just given him important information and partly because calling her ‘Sensei Collie’ was alway funny.

A fist slammed down on top of his head with a solid THUNK, not hard enough to knock him down but hard enough to hurt.

“Brat.” Her voice carried just enough annoyance to let him know she was serious, but not enough to suggest actual anger.

Zain rubbed his head, hissing through his teeth. “Ah, Sensei, what’d I do?”

“You know what you did, call me a dog again and see what happens,” she shot back, eyes narrowed in that way that meant she wasn’t going to forget this. Tossing her hair back, Colleen shook her head before starting to walk away. “Make sure you don’t mess around with that stuff. You could hurt yourself. Or worse, hurt someone else.”

“Promise, sensei.” The words came out automatically, the response she wanted to hear as the door closed behind her.

Promise I’m gonna abuse the fuck out of this. He smirked, because honestly, who was he kidding? If he could punch through brick walls, if he could charge up energy like Goku, then he was definitely going to figure out how to use it. The blue light flickered around his hand one more time, stronger, brighter, more controlled, and he could feel the potential thrumming under his skin like a second heartbeat.

Yeah. This is gonna be fun.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

5K Words (100 DP)

ROLL: Ki Manipulation (200 CP) [Street Fighter] {Source}: “While many fighters are purely physical in their techniques, honing their bodies to become faster and stronger, there are just as many that grasp at something a bit less material. The most common, found within all things, is ‘Ki’. Ki is a preternatural and esoteric form of energy, and within living beings, Ki can be wielded and harnessed via martial arts and other forms of physical activity, as well as specific exercises.

Ki can also be quantified as the strength and build of one’s body, along with health, finesse, and muscle. Upon purchasing this perk, your Ki will be unlocked and you will be granted training in its use.

Using Ki allows you to improve the intensity of melee attacks, and project Ki blasts from your body. While yours starts off weak, it can grow much stronger with time and training, just like your muscles, allowing you to do more.”

Dojo Points: 100