Ghosted

I had to work my ass off to gain ground.

Every time he made a mistake and had to slow down to keep from killing himself, I gained on him.

I got the hang of the one-wheel and by the time he’d barreled ahead, most of the cars he was swerving to avoid had already slammed on their brakes.

Feeling air rush past my ears, my braids whipping about behind me, I ate road like my life depended on it.

Not just because I was worried about Dvar’s judgment, but because I actually really wanted to beat the shit out of this asshole.

Everybody had their hands around my throat.

Everybody had their hands in my life, from the moment I set foot on Thread. Today though?

The taillight of his bike flashed repeatedly up ahead.

I smiled.

He had to flutter the brakes to keep from wiping out and that was my moment.

Closing.

Closing.

I felt it.

The itch in my palm for my blade. I swerved right, taking the sidewalk ramp at the corner, my amber eyes tick-tocking rapidly to snapshot the entire scene ahead.

His bike weaved hard. I saw it happen in slow motion.

His yaw thrusters started sputtering as he tried to cut. I watched him start to lose control.

Cars whipped past me faster than I could keep up with as Vincent started to waver up ahead of me in the center lane.

I cut hard into traffic, forcing someone to slam on their brakes at the intersection as I leapt from my bike.

Fuck.

So did he.

We were in the air, my sheathed blade in one hand. I swung up to intercept his iron.

I caught the impact, gripped my sheath and snatched it free as we collided in a rapid clatter of metal on metal, then flew apart, landing on the street.

I glanced around at the street signs, at the Sanskrit ads flashing on the third-eye layer.

A jewelry store. A decadent car dealership.

The chrome side of a tech firm to our right. Shimmering like a wall of mirrors.

I stood slowly at the same time he did.

Tossing my sheath aside, I turned my blade over, meeting Vincent’s eyes across the intersection. I made the tip of my blade draw a circle in the air beside me, whirling it a few times to loosen my wrist.

Cars continued to stop, people got out and stared. Some moved on quickly.

Others recorded if they had phones.

I looked around at the faces watching us, then at Vincent.

Then we started the ritual.

Drawing wide circles around one another, keeping eye contact as we felt one another out from a distance.

Resonance crackled off of me in threat.

His did the same.

He was a Dharma Yog.

His twin brother Viggo, from earlier, clearly wasn’t, though.

His resonance wasn’t like mine, though; his swirled pink around his frame.

Mine sizzled and sparked like white crackling bolts of electricity.

That was peculiar to me, but I ignored it, instead choosing to close my eyes as we circled.

I knew he would do the same.

The battle wasn’t here yet.

It was within.

Steady the mind.

I am not the body. I’m not even the mind.

I am not the body. I’m not even the mind.

I am not the body…

Clang!

My arm moved without me, meeting his blade. My head replaying it back like instant film. The sound of his feet.

The sound of the moment his resonance peaked.

Then his inevitable charge. The one I knew was coming. I just didn’t know when.

Focusing on me. On the self. On the experience within… not the stares of the people… not the sound of my own resonance crackle.

Just within.

I was still enough to notice the stillness itself and hear.

So I reacted.

Fuck, Dvar was right.

I snarled, whirling in. We met dharma blade to dharma blade, crossing swords, pressing in on one another.

He got up in my face and I stared back.

“Really, dude? What, you want another kiss?”

“You offering?”

“Funny."

Then we shoved apart.

I vaulted back, he pressed on, forcing me on the defensive when I landed. Resonance crackled from our blades, a war of electricity and pink rippling bursts, snapping into one another as I mirrored him backwards.

I overstepped my back foot, planted my heel and shoved into him after batting his blade wide, blasting into his chest.

He stumbled back and whirled in hard.

My blade responded with the appropriate block, but I turned my back to him on the follow-through. Casually turning around. Not because I thought I was better.

To piss him off.

He snarled,

“Show your back to me!?” He swung in and I was ready for it.

Lifting my sword high underhanded to intercept the blade impact, my opposite forearm supporting it.

Just so I could shove him again. Bashing into him with my shoulder.

Hard.

“Does that piss you off?” I asked, Dvar's words coming out of my mouth again.

He rolled to the ground, charging back at me like a panther. The kind of quickness that honestly unnerved me.

I stepped back and to the left, turning, letting him slide by in his attempt at tackling me.

His attack was faster than my defense and I paid for it, taking a blunt blade across my side as he passed, sending me rolling away.

He chased, whirling, whipping his sword in elegant spinning cuts.

I bounded back up to my feet and stumbled backwards, lashing my blade into each of them, forced to defend with metal until I got my footing.

Metal sparked rapidly against metal until my back was to the crosswalk post.

I spun round it, letting his next attack strike it and not me, slinging myself around the opposite side to shoulder-bash him again.

Now he was really mad.

He fell over backwards but I pressed in, whipping in low, dropping to a knee.

He launched himself off the ground with both arms, sailing above my swing, his own sword high, coming down at me like a stone falling to earth.

I had to swing up hard, high and right. Batting his blade aside as I spun away from him.

Only a brave few were still filming with phones as we tore into one another in the middle of traffic.

The symphony of collision that was my life playing out in front of them.

Blade blasting away at blade, me whirling, cutting and spinning with the targeted footwork of a Ghost. Him stumbling through motions, some elegant, some defensively backwards, against my unorthodox, rapid series of fluid motion.

But I could only do it in bursts.

I felt my next strike against his blade go numb. My arms aching. The pump in my muscles feeling swollen and firm as I bore down on him.

I hadn’t bothered to pace myself.

And it was about to cost me.

“What’s the matter, Pretty Boy?” Vincent panted as we danced through his defensive posture, “You runnin’ outta gas?”

Yup.

“F—fuck you!” I growled, swallowing.

I had given it everything hoping to overwhelm him early.

Even when I fought those guys in the parking lot I saved something for the end.

This guy? I fought stupid and mad. I fought for the fruit of the action, not the action itself.

And in so doing…

His next parry sent my blade flipping away. Followed by my body with a whirling kick that threw me after my weapon.

I hit the ground hard, rolling over the ground.

Scrambling for my sword, I grabbed it up, backing onto my knees as I brought it up to defend a hard swing in at me.

The impact rattled up my arms, vibrated through my wrists, but I got up to one foot, shoving against his blade.

He came back in with a series of swipes.

I turned with him, hopping over one, skipping back from another, batting the third wide and striking for his core.

He twisted to one side and we went back into a dance that had my fingers aching.

I was panting as he pressed me hard.

He growled, bashing his blade in overhead swipes one, after the other, after the other.

I had to lift mine against the fury of his growling, raging strikes.

Clang. Clang.

Clang!

“Fuck!”

“Who do you think you are, you little runt?” he panted, snarling, coming on hard.

I spun out wide and blocked, glancing our blades off of one another. My lungs were doing that thing where they felt like tight sacks of meat in my chest.

I slid in for his flank, whirling low to a knee, blasting the back of his leg.

He toppled, I rose, stumbling backward, righting myself wearily.

He cursed as he crumbled, stumbling to the ground, panting himself but pushing up to come in hard.

Fucker wouldn't stay down.

Pink resonance whirled with him. Not with his blade but with his hand.

My eyes went wide.

I couldn't dodge it fast enough.

He cracked his fist into my jaw so hard I felt my neck stretch. I felt my body surrender to the impact, spinning me crashing to the ground.

I saw sparks shooting in my vision, scrambling around for my sword half blind from pain.

I couldn’t let him take it. Couldn’t let him force the yield. Duels would go all night without one but I didn't want it to be me giving in.

I heard him panting and laughing as he prowled up behind me.

My vision still hadn’t cleared. I clambered up, swinging with a fist that I felt him smack away, his foot tripping me to fall onto my stomach.

He grabbed one of my braids and tugged up.

“Ahh-f-fuck!”

I snatched my hand up to grab his wrist, letting him usher me up to my feet by my scalp, snatching me around to face him like a defiant child.

Vincent decided to punch me in my face now that he had me by the hair.

I couldn't get my hand up fast enough to stop it.

Sparks again flew in my vision. Not just from pain or the impact of his fist below my eye.

My arms fell to my sides like weights.

I let out a pathetic groan as he clubbed me in the face again, finally splitting my lip, my resonance cracking apart with my exhaustion.

God, I really should learn to meditate.

"Yeah... it's over now, pretty boy," He chuckled.

I sensed his resonance lower.

Asshole actually thought I was done.

What a prick...

Sizzling, crackling sparks of energy sputtered to the ground as blood ran from the corner of my mouth, the last of my resonance sprinkling away to nothing as the tank ran dry.

I shoved my foot down into his shin, forcing his footing out from under him.

He let me go to catch himself and I stumbled back and away from him.

He lowered his sword and glared at me.

“Now what, huh?” I said.

“Now…? I’m gonna teach you a lesson, Pretty Boy. Then I'm gonna pay Dvar to let me take you home and teach you a lesson,” he grinned.

“Yeah? Jump me then teach me a lesson,” I nodded, my eyes tick-tocking around for a solution, “What are you, like a Bitch-Move Private Coach?” I laughed breathlessly.

“Watch your mouth…” he panted, closing the distance between us to swing on me.

I saw what it was and didn’t have the energy to stop it.

I let him slap me so hard I fell to a knee.

Both of his hands grabbed my jacket lapels and hauled me up.

Fuck, why was I always gettin’ bullied?

A cocky grin on his face I wanted to punch is what greeted me. Hanging weakly from his hands like a little softboy who just lost his lunch money.

But honestly? I was fine letting him talk shit if I could just catch my breath.

I hung there using his strength, panting.

He shook the living shit outta me.

Hard.

I felt my whole world rattle in my head.

“Stop it, fucker!” I yelled, trying to brace myself against him, grabbing his clothing.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, shoving me.

I stumbled backward and held my ground.

“Or what?” I spat back with a bloody grin, my dimples imploding.

He stepped into my personal space, still winded but gathering himself.

I let him lift my chin with a finger.

Why the fuck did everybody have to touch my face?

Dominance games.

Yeah. Whatever.

“Or you might end up in a position you don’t want to be in.”

“No… I’m in the position I wanna be in,” I said, tugging my chin off of his curled finger.

“What’s that?”

I punched him in the fucking stomach.

“Striking distance, Champion!” I said, wheezing a chuckle as he crumbled to the ground. “Ohh, I know that sucks… been there. You let your resonance down. Not smart... It’s always right when you start talkin’ shit…”

I squatted down slowly, following him to the ground.

I grabbed his sword as he sputtered and started coughing to try to snap up to his feet.

Too late though. I had his blade resting against his own neck.

“You actually coulda beat my ass… never go in for the shit talk, man.”

Vincent glared daggers at me.

“Oh. Man of few words now, huh? Call it…” I said.

Demanded.

“You'll see me again, Pretty Boy… You're gonna see me again,” he whispered.

“Call it.” I repeated myself, letting him stare me in the eyes.

“One day there’s not gonna be any rules…” He said.

I nodded, "Yeah, yeah."

Vincent smiled menacingly, staring at me.

But he didn't say anything back. He got up to his knees like a Samurai prepared for seppuku.

“Take out your fuckin’ phone and call it…” I said, still catching my breath. “I know, I know… you’ll get me after school. I’ve had bullies before."

I dragged myself and his sword across the intersection towards my blade, only then becoming painfully aware of all the people who were staring at us.

Dumbass could have ended the fight if he went for my sword.

Now here I stand holding both blades and he's forfeited out of Mookie's territory.

Pride cometh.

As for the people looking on?

They just watched a Yakuza fight. Public.

“Fuck…”

And from the looks of those faces- and phones in hand...

This was probably going live.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I tucked my sword under an arm and flipped it out.

“Hello?”

“Good boy,” I knew that voice. I smiled impish at it.

At the familiar dopamine hit of his praise.

I could already smell the hint of mandarin orange cologne.

“You think so? Can I have s'more gummy bears?”

“Grow up,” Dvar said, hanging up the phone.

"... A simple no would have been fine," I sighed, staring at my phone.

Season 3 Teaser Part 1 Uno Dos

I chuckled to myself and looked over at Vincent, who was still glaring at me.

I tossed his sword to him and stumbled my tired ass over to my downed bike, spun out in front of a boutique shop. I figured he wasn’t going to try to attack me. What would be the point?

He was gathering himself; I was gathering myself.

I heard the other bikes come revving up and grunted, lifting mine back onto its aerial stabilizer.

I heard its idle hiss as it stood upright and swung my leg over.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” a baritone rumbled behind me.

“I didn’t kill your boy, man. He’s in the street. It’s good. It’s over,” I said, stowing my sword behind the windshield.

God knows where my sheath went, I—

“GUHNG!” I gave a wet gurgle.

Why?

Because hands grabbed me by the jacket lapels.

They snatched me off my bike and planted me against the storefront.

My head rattled off the glass, staggering my vision; vibrating my whole skull, as I looked up at him.

Taller than me, definitely. He had me up on the tips of my Chucks.

Amber eyes looking down at me.

Tall Ghost.

My gaze scanned his face. I didn’t miss it. Aesthetically similar to mine. Only his skin was darker, chocolate. His darker chocolate lips flattered him. French braids down his back?

Multiple?

I couldn’t tell.

“02 Delta.”

He introduced himself.

“Wait, what?”

“You’re 02,” He said.

I suddenly felt short-changed.

Dude was like six-two and jacked. He got the unfortunate pretty face, but how come I couldn’t get six-two and jacked?!

“No. You’re 02. I’m saying… 02 Delta. I’ve been looking for you.”

“No,” I said flatly. Confusion packaged with the deal.

“Yeah.”

“No.” I stared him in his equally pretty eyes.

“Don’t make me fuck you up," He aid, his rolling baritone smooth. Unbothered.

Like he was already confident what he was saying was true.

"Yeah, tough guy?" I said, trying to buck up the best I could on tiptoes.

"Can we skip the part where I fuck you up?” he sighed.

“That’s… what I would have—…" He was right. I hated that feeling in your stomach when you know the guy in front of you could absolutely manhandle you.

And you both know it.

"alright. How am I 02?” I finally sighed.

Considering how my life had gone, it kinda sucks finding out absolutely nothing about you is unique. Just sorta felt like the next shoe to drop.

Also I just got a little fucked up, so I really, really didn’t want the future he was offering me.

I had no resonance… he had strong hands.

Clearly I punked out. Fuck you.

“Because I’m 01," He said, as if that was the only truth worth accepting.

We stared at each other.

I’m so glad he understood the moment so I didn’t have to explain it.

“…Yes, I can prove it,” he finished rolling his eyes.

“Okay, good. I was about to say, dude…”

“I’m gonna say the most cliche shit in the world to you and you’re gonna say okay because you don’t have a choice.” He said simply as he set me on my sneakers.

“Okay… shoot,” I groaned.

“You’re comin’ with me princess.”

I stared him in the eyes as doom hit the bottom of my stomach.

He squared up in front of me and I swallowed, looking up at him. I didn’t want the smoke. I just nodded.

“O-… Okay…”

Please don’t say it.

"Good boy," he said, giving my cheek a light smack.

Fuck!

Yes. It’s possible to want to smile and punch someone at the same time.

I was this many days old when I figured that out.

See you next season...

Later, gator.