Chapter 4: The Training
The abandoned gymnasium smelled of sweat and burnt plastic. A row of half-melted mannequins, their faces distorted by Ezra's lightning, stood as silent, charred witnesses. Wednesday, holding a stopwatch, watched Ezra with a hawk-like intensity.
"Your aim is atrocious," Wednesday said, her voice a flat, unemotional drone. "You're a disgrace to our family's proud history of targeted mayhem."
Ezra, breathing heavily, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "I'm a human lightning rod, not a marksman. It's a new body, Wednesday. It takes time to get the feel of it."
"Time is a luxury we do not have," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You must learn to control your power. A wild beast can be tamed, but a wild storm is a liability. Again. This time, focus your lightning. Aim for the heart."
Ezra took a deep breath. He focused on his energy, the low hum of his Null Domain a quiet, throbbing presence in his veins. He raised his hand, a small spark of blue lightning dancing across his fingertips. He aimed for the center of a mannequin's chest. The lightning shot out, a thin, controlled beam of pure energy. It sizzled through the air and hit the mannequin square in the head, melting its face into a grotesque, smiling mask.
"Better," Wednesday said, her face still a blank mask. "The head is a more efficient target. A more… merciful end."
Suddenly, a flash of something shiny flew past Ezra's head, followed by a sharp clang as it hit the wall behind him. A knife, a small, silver stiletto, bounced harmlessly off the concrete.
"What was that for?" Ezra asked, his heart hammering in his chest.
Wednesday, holding another knife, simply stared at him. "A test. A Null Domain can't be a passive tool. It must be an active defense. It must have an on/off switch. Nullify the momentum of the next knife."
Ezra's breath hitched. "You're going to throw another one?"
"Do you prefer a slow, agonizing death at the hands of a Scalper?" she asked, her voice an ironic monotone.
Ezra didn't have time to answer. She threw the knife. It spun through the air, a glint of silver in the low light. Ezra, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and adrenaline, raised his hand. His Null Domain surged out, a wave of nothingness that enveloped the knife. It stopped dead in the air, a silver crucifix of stillness, and then clattered harmlessly to the floor.
"Good," Wednesday said, her voice a whisper. "Now, we must test the limits."
Suddenly, a small, rainbow-colored blur of energy entered the gymnasium. It was Enid, her face a mixture of excitement and concern.
"I can't believe I get to see you guys train!" she shrieked, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. "It's, like, so goth! And intense! Is this what you guys do for fun?"
Ezra, still shaking, managed a tight smile. "You could say that."
Enid, oblivious to the tense energy, offered to help. "I could be your practice dummy! I'm, like, super fast! You could practice your speed boost on me!"
Wednesday's lips thinned. "Absolutely not. The risk of collateral damage is too high."
Ezra, however, saw the sincerity in Enid's eyes. He needed to test the limits of his power. He needed to know if it could hurt the people he wanted to protect. "Okay," he said. "Just… be ready."
Enid, her eyes wide with excitement, took a running start. Ezra, his heart hammering, closed his eyes. He focused on the feeling of his power, a low, guttural roar in his ears. He opened his eyes. The world seemed to slow down. He was a blur of motion, a flash of blue light. He reached out and grabbed Enid's arm.
He pulled back, his hand still tingling. The world returned to normal. Enid, her face a mask of confusion, looked at a small scratch on her arm from a nearby piece of debris. A scratch that should have healed instantly. But it didn't. It just… stayed there. A small, bleeding cut.
Enid, her voice a whisper, said, "My… my cut… it's not healing."
Ezra's blood ran cold. The low hum in his veins, the feeling of his power, suddenly felt different. It was no longer a tool. It was a hunger. It was consuming. He had nullified not just the scratch, but the very essence of her healing factor.
"I'm so sorry," Ezra said, his voice a panicked gasp. "I didn't… I didn't mean to."
Enid, her eyes wide, looked at her arm, then at Ezra, then at Wednesday. She didn't scream. She didn't yell. She just… stared, a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes. "I've never… I've never seen that before."
Ezra felt a new, heavy weight settle on his shoulders. A sense of responsibility. A sense of guilt. His power was not a shield. It was a knife. A knife that could cut through everything. Even the things he cared about.
Wednesday, in a rare display of something that might have been called empathy, stepped forward. "The Null Domain is a double-edged sword," she said, her voice unusually soft. "It can protect. But it can also wound. It seems my theory was correct. Your power is a paradox. It must be controlled. It must have a precise, a brutal, on/off switch."
Enid, her eyes still on her arm, finally seemed to recover. She looked at Ezra. And in a move that was so completely and utterly Enid, she threw her arms around him, enveloping him in a tight, suffocating, rainbow-colored hug.
"It's okay!" she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "You didn't mean to! And now we know! Now you know what you have to work on!"
Ezra, his face buried in her fluffy scarf, felt a new emotion swell in his chest. It wasn't guilt. It was… a new kind of purpose. He wasn't just doing this for Wednesday. He was doing this for them. For Enid. He had to learn to control his power. He had to be a protector, not a liability.
"I have an idea," Wednesday said, her voice cutting through the moment. "Enid, you have a network of informants. People who talk to you. You can get us information. While Ezra trains his… hunger… I will work on a tactical plan. We will approach this not as a game, but as a military operation."
Enid pulled away from Ezra, her eyes shining with newfound purpose. "You've got it! I'm, like, a total gossip queen! I know everything about everyone! This is going to be so much fun!"
Ezra, watching the two of them, felt a small, genuine smile touch his lips. He was no longer alone in this. He had a team. A psychotic strategist and a hyperactive socialite. And he, the lazy, apathetic black sheep, was now their protector.
The date on the map was a few days away. They didn't have much time. But they had a plan. And they had each other. The confrontation was coming. The Scalper was waiting. And this time, they would be ready. The trio of hunters was formed, and the hunt for the Scalper was now on.
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