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***
Finishing the set of exercises shown to me by Iron Fist, I lean tiredly against the wall, feeling every muscle in my body groaning painfully.
-Very good, apprentice," Danny Rand said, stroking his chin as he took on the role of the distant sensei, constantly throwing long sentences and looking thoughtfully into the distance. "You're not as hopeless as I thought.... Mm-hm...
-Yeah, thanks.
And I didn't even have the energy to make jokes. All those smooth, slow movements that work every muscle in your body. The pain of training that's been haunting me for a week. The constant tension and the maddening itching under my skin.... In short, right now I felt like a woman on her special period of the month on a hot summer day.
So, to avoid venting my frustration on others, especially on Rand, who was playing, I preferred to keep quiet.
-Tomorrow we'll continue with your training, m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m.
-That's from another universe.
-Whatever, it's all about the teacher-student relationship," Rand pointed his finger at me and sat cross-legged on the ground, spinning on his axis, "Besides, the result is really good, especially for someone who started training so late.
-I suspected you'd reveal the truth to me at the very end-.
-That would be a cliché.
-Then what was all that training all week for? -What was it?
-For fun. Oh, careful.
My shoe flew off to the back of the gym, causing Danny to laugh and Murdoch, who was always in attendance at our training sessions, to glance at my teacher out of the corner of his eye.
-But the effect is already there," Iron Fist pointed his finger in my direction and glowed with overflowing Qi energy, "you feel it, but you don't understand it, and that's why you're angry...
-Oh-oh, sensei, that's not why I'm angry. -Oh-oh, sensei, that's not why I'm angry.
-No, it's this one.
-No, it's the other one.
-Sean, it's time for you to go home, - as usual, our "babysitter", who watches over the peace in her dojo, interrupted the heated banter and sent me to bed, - come back tomorrow, as usual.
-Okay, okay. At least don't be a dick about it.
As I struggled to get to my shoe, resting peacefully in the corner, I envied it for a moment, wishing I could just as easily collapse on the floor and lie there.
But Matt was right, it was time to go home.
The night city greeted me with a refreshing coolness, despite the stifling smell of sewage that sometimes wafted from the alleys.
As I smoked and pondered, I collated everything I'd learnt about Qi in my head. And, to be honest, I knew more about the female logic system than Daniel Rand was trying to drum into me.
A force based on philosophy, sensation, and instinct was weighing heavily on my mind, though it was too early to demand results.I couldn't understand what was going to happen, and Rand's abstruse phrases were getting on my nerves, because every time we met he said the same thing in different words.
"Feel the power. Focus on what's inside. Give in to your feelings."
And other nonsense of some Asian philosophy. If that geek makes me stand under a waterfall or tend a rock garden, I'll slap him in the balls again at the next practice.
-Why complain? I'm definitely getting stronger and tougher now," I continued to think out loud, trying to ignore the itch in my body, and even Matt's exercises were getting easier.
Okay, I'm just mumbling, and it's because my body itches all the time. It's a nasty, unrelenting itch that goes all the way down to my fingertips. And I can't even scratch properly, it's like I'm encased in plaster on all sides and my fingers are too thick to get underneath it.... You start scratching, you get a little bit, and then.... Bollocks! It itches even more.
Danny said it's normal, cos I haven't learnt like normal people since I was a kid. So I'll just have to be patient and not whinge. He, for example, had it much easier, just a slight tremor in his hands and the occasional tingle.
-Okay, fuck it. Is it working? Yes! I'm on the right track!
***
As a well-known major used to say, to get rid of pain, you have to dull it with more pain.
-Super double spicy, sir! -Super double spicy, sir! And plenty of spices to make my chair burn underneath me!
I gave the last of my money and leaned against the counter of my favourite place, waiting for my order. There were a lot of people around, and those who heard were laughing at the stupid "tei" - the white man who had condemned his arse to torment for the next couple of days.
But I didn't care. The itching was becoming unbearable and I wanted to get rid of it somehow. So I came here to have a good bowl of Vietnamese soup to help me with all my problems, for a moment plunging me into a tasteful Valhalla.
-Mm-mm. Great, thank you.
With a smile of anticipation, I went in search of a seat and was surprised to find an equally familiar face at a familiar table.
-Mr Stacey, sir," my old acquaintance and admirer of this fine cuisine was sitting at our table, in the same place as last time, looking at some photos and carefully reading a folder full of reports, "may I sit down?
-А? Oh, Sean, it's you. Nice to meet you, of course, young man, - pointing with his hand to the vacant seat, the "former detective" made a friendly expression on his face, though concentration and fatigue easily slipped through the mask, - please, sit down.
I flopped down across from him, and with delight and anticipation, I printed out the chopsticks and other stuff that would come in handy in my future confrontation with the soup. The bowl was covered by a plate that held the heat and flavours, but as soon as I opened it, my eyes started to sting with tears and my nose started to get stuffier than Danny's workouts.
-Ooh, spicy.
-You didn't overdo it?
-Oh, don't worry, it's fine," I added a couple more of the spicy sauces that are often left on the tables in places like this and hallucinated a mystical red skull rising above the plate, "it's even better.
-I hope so,- the man's scepticism was not feigned. Putting his stuff aside, Stacy leaned on the table, scrutinising the contents of my plate," I should probably call a doctor.
-Don't worry," my fantasised skull began to grin menacingly as I put my chopsticks near my food, "I'm taking this step consciously.
-Maybe-
Before Gwen's father could finish, the first portion went to its destination, and the whole room fell silent as they stared at my reddening face. First came the fever. It spread through my mouth and into my oesophagus and from there into every corner of my body.
Then sweat broke out on my forehead, and in a chain reaction, my whole body began to soak wetly, soaking my clothes.
My eyes flew open, my breathing quickened ... And a smile began to blossom on my face. The itch from Rand's training was gone! It was gone, burning away in the fire of a super-sized portion of the old Vietnamese guy's little diner.
-I see you like it. You're an unusual kid.
-Ooh.
I think my mouth's a little paralysed. Luckily, I was able to chew normally, even though I splattered soup droplets on the table and my chin, but the more noodles I put in my mouth, the easier it became.
The body was throwing all its energy into fighting the unknown contagion, saving its stupid host. I could feel the unfamiliar energy running through my muscles that was still tearing through me. Wild, unbridled, it gave strength and a sense of calm, helping me overcome the double superstrength.
"Suck it up, you fucking Chinese masters. This is how Qi awakening should be conducted, not by verbiage!".
-Ha-ha-ha, you should see your face right now," realising I was fine, Stacy stood up from the table, ordering me a whole battery of drinks, "I think I could use one.
-Ahem. Thank-you...My wheeze was tentative and my voice was weak, but I felt much better.
-You're welcome. Besides, the owner easily gave me a discount, because he didn't expect you not to pass out.
Shaking his head reproachfully, George glanced over at his old friend, the owner of the diner, and received an awkward shrug.
-Well, it's better than the current youthful hobbies anyway....
Stacy whispered under his breath, clearly not expecting me to hear him.
-What are the hobbies of youth? I've got a whole bunch of friends who are gamers and nerds.
-I don't know what that last one means, but from the context. It's like.
-We like sci-fi shows and board games and stuff like that. -Yeah.
-Sounds good," Stacy smiled sadly, drumming his fingers on a folder full of files, "really good. Tell me, what else are teenagers into these days?
I was euphoric, and I could even say I felt a real rush, from the chi and the spice running through my stomach. It made talking to Stacey a real thrill. I wanted to share with someone, to tell, to boast, but for lack of a suitable interlocutor, I dumped on the old "bobby" details of life of modern youth, piling him with stupid and unnecessary facts.
Gradually our conversation flowed from extreme to extreme, until somehow we came back to the subject of discussing future careers.
-The children of today don't really want to serve society by defending the law.
I shrugged, pouring the last of some milkshake mixed with juice down my throat.
-Well, I grew up in a neighbourhood of Irish immigrants, and relations with the police are, to put it mildly, poor.
-I see.
-Besides, most of my peers dream of earning money, especially those who lived in poverty, -I wanted to burp contentedly, but I proudly suppressed this unscrupulous impulse, -I'm going to go into science, although since childhood I dreamed of something else, and here it is how it turned out.
-I didn't know scientists made a lot of money.
-Ha, you have to know how, - I shake my finger and lean back in my chair, basking in the last rays of the setting sun hitting me through the window, -first I'll work, make a couple of grants, become a permanent employee and then I'll rest on my laurels, wasting money on wants and girls.... Um, I mean, hobbies.
-Yeah," Stacy nodded understandingly, holding back a laugh, "that's a good plan, and it's doable. It's just a shame you're giving up on the police so zealously. We could use some fresh blood.
-Is it that bad?
-What makes you think that?
-Well, don't take it personally, Mr Stacey, but I don't know you and I've only seen you for the second time in my life and you're asking me to work for you. You must be starved for staff if you're trying to recruit the first kid off the street.
-No, it's not that bad," his doubts still shone through his mask, which spoke more than a thousand words, "I'm just taking advantage of a lucky break. I don't often socialise with people your age. So I thought I'd try my luck.
-I see.
I moved away a little bit and started to look at the old cop with suspicion, but he didn't pay any attention to my movements at all, only continued to look at the collection of photos thoughtfully. During the conversation he returned his gaze to them more than once, constantly rubbing them and not knowing where to put them.
-Hey, Sean," Stacy began again as I was about to say goodbye and leave the place, tucking the photos into the inside pocket of his jacket, "how do your peers feel about Halloween?
-Um... I have no idea. They're okay, I guess. I haven't dressed up in a long time, and it's not really common in our neighbourhood. To put it mildly.
-Well, if you'd decided to participate," Stacy reflexively reached for his cigarettes and stopped himself halfway through, grumbling and chuckling, "habit... Anyway. If you did decide to dress up, what costumes would you choose? Just roughly.
-Hmm, -I understood roughly what the question was about. There were more and more freaks in town, and for statistical purposes, Stacy decided to ask me how my yearlings would dress," he said, "probably something funny. I've got a mate called Peter. He'd probably dress up as a scientist or maybe Madame Curie. He's a weirdo, so I wouldn't be surprised to see him dressed like that. And the rest of them. Probably from TV shows or books. Star Trek, Star Wars. Oh! Lord of the Rings is especially popular right now. I'd totally dress up as Saruman.
I kept throwing variations of costumes at Stacy, and the more I told him, the wider his smile got. I don't know what decision he'd made for himself, but judging by the kind look in his eyes, it was definitely a positive one.
I hated to lie to the man about my own choices, because there's no cool style like the noir dark look of the thirties. Black and white tones, full of mystery and despair, where you can add only the red of a beauty's lipstick or the scarlet of blood flowing through the dirty streets.
-Thanks for the talk, Shawn. -Thanks for the talk. It was nice to see you.
-You too, sir. Good luck!
Our conversation broke off easily and casually, like two old mates who meet in the same place every day. Although, knowing my own luck, I wouldn't be surprised if on my next visit to this wonderful place George Stacey turned out to be my table mate again.
***
New York, I'm sure you've been waiting for me. Drowning in filth, your protector was only gone for a couple of days. My image was just coming into full force, making the small gangs peer more closely into the darkness and the small hooligans cluster in larger packs, making them even more dangerous and reckless.
I couldn't stand it. That evening I made my way out under the black skies of this eternally dormant city. A couple of hours before training began, I was going to try out my new powers. The damned itch had left me, but now I could constantly feel a new lodger in my body - Qi.
It circulated through my veins, penetrating every cell, seemingly immovable and calm, but ready to explode at any moment, if only asked.
The bright light of the power of justice that was ready to break free with me.
A small set of exercises right before the fight allowed the hot energy to boil up, filling me with vigour and strength. I wanted to jump, dance, smash.... It's a strange list, but that's exactly the mood that was eating me up right now.
Queens Village. A neighbourhood of small two-storey houses, often glimpsed in American TV series and old films. These are the places where stereotypical families are often shown, where the bumbling father weeds the lawn, drinking beer, while his children play with the dog on a makeshift swing, and from behind a white decorative fence you can see a wide street with dozens of similar houses.
Small cosy streets with no shops or casual passers-by. Only your own neighbours live here, neighbours you've known since you were little, and the appearance of a stranger will definitely not go unnoticed. Any random old lady will immediately tell all her girlfriends in the neighbourhood that some suspicious type is loitering at night near her beds.
It's a nice place. But it's exactly the kind of place where small predators like to hide, and sometimes even bigger critters. Who would be surprised if a neighbour drove his pickup truck home after work and brought a big bag full of work clothes and other stuff into the house? What's unusual about loud music blasting from a neighbour's house that a young lad inherited from his deceased parents?
Only the police and the victims of these men will be able to answer these questions.
Today's gang wasn't the most dangerous or violent. Just the usual junkies who like to rob small shops in other parts of the city, push a couple of bags of weed and take the wheels off an expensive car, insulting and threatening.
Small things, but these are the kind of bastards the underworld relies on, constantly sacrificing them to save their own arses. A small cog in a vast system of injustice. They can rob and trade now, but what happens tomorrow? When the money runs out and impunity eclipses the remnants of reason, pushing new crimes right into the arms of the real bigwigs of this brutal underworld.
A brief moment of twilight will signal me. When the streetlights have not yet been lit, but the darkness has already begun to take over, hiding vague silhouettes from casual glances.
The stoetop house greets me with the laughter and joy of the owners, who are currently watching Letterman. Little stoners cackle with clichéd jokes, dribbling their own drool, scattering food scraps on the floor.
The doorbell disturbs their habitual leisure time. They have recently gone to work and now they can rest on their laurels, mindlessly spending their loot on all sorts of rubbish.
-Well, who the hell else is out there?
-Maybe it's Becky. Probably ran out of dope.
Idiots. The constant success in crime has taught them to keep their mouths shut. If a regular cop came in here for a call about loud music, he'd have handcuffs ready and a few cars on the way.
-Yeah, what do you want?
The door on the chain is ajar, letting in a bit of home light. Swollen red eyes squint, trying to make out my figure in the darkness before I step into the light myself.
-A little justice.
Letting Qi wave through my body, I kick my foot at the door, surpassing all expectations. The flash of golden energy blinded me and the dopey guy for a moment, but the poor door shattered, throwing the burglar into the corridor.
-What the fuck was that? What the fuck happened in there?
-Whoa!
I didn't see that one coming. Clenching my fists, crunching my leather gloves, I struggled to tear myself away from looking at the unconscious guy, bursting into the house and hitting the guy who'd run out at the noise.My body felt like lead. Just two blows had drained me of everything I had, leaving me in a broken trough. My bones grew heavy and my muscles became like wood, barely able to react to the last couple in the house.
Pulling Daredevil's club from behind my belt, blowing that fine weapon into the air, easily beating the shit out of two little shits barely older than my current body.
Standing in the middle of the whimpering and twisted bodies, I run my palm across my cheek right where one of the criminals' fist hit, but instead of the expected pain from the bruise, I only feel a slight swelling.
-That's fucking awesome! Oh. I don't feel so good.
Leaning against the wall, I barely have time to put my hands in front of my face, saving myself from an embarrassing defeat if I hit the floor.
-This is the kind of thing they didn't warn me about.
On my knees, soiling my cloak and nearly losing my hat, I even forgot to collect evidence, call the police, and leave my trademark Rorschach test. I barely had enough energy to get out of the house and get to my feet. Although the moment of climbing the stairs on the veranda would probably give me nightmares.
-I had to get out of here," I took one last glance at the battering ram of the door and hurried out of the neighbourhood, noting the few lighted windows where the silhouettes of my neighbours looked out, "shit, shit, shit.
***
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