Anarchists

Leader Damien asked me to take a seat. We settled down, and he began to recount the harrowing events of the terrorist attack.

During the attack yesterday, he explained, there were advanced Kainen users among the assailants, some nearly as strong as Leader Damien himself.

Their presence had posed a grave threat, one that could have escalated much further had he not been present that day.

When he and Rick arrived on the scene, they were met with a grim sight: several Mafia members lay dead in the streets.

The real issue lay in the fact that there were five Anarchists of such formidable strength. That meant that Leader Damien couldn't take on all of them himself.

Rick, experienced though he was, underestimated their strength. Despite his best efforts to maintain focus, he found himself facing two Anarchists armed with knives. Though he managed to take one of them down, he couldn't evade the other's blade, which struck deep into his back.

Leader Damien, preoccupied with his own fight against the other three terrorists, arrived at Rick's side only to find him already gravely wounded. The ground was slick with blood, and it was clear that the knife had severed a major artery.

It made me think deeply. I had only known Rick for a few days, but I already felt like I had a connection with him. He seemed to know a lot about my dad's past; I wanted to learn more about his connection with him.

As I sat there, Emily approached us, and I told her about what happened; she just kept quiet, not knowing what to say.

I glanced at Leader Damien with a determined look, my mind set.

"Can I join the Militia and help somehow?" I asked.

He met my gaze. "It's too dangerous right now," he replied, his voice tinged with concern. "We want you strong before you get out there."

Emily, who had been listening, chimed in. "You need to consider your safety, Gray. Rick was a Pioneer, and he died, even with the years of experience," she reminded me gently.

Undeterred, I pressed on. "Then how can I get stronger, faster?"

"You need to get used to using Kainen," Leader Damien advised. "Develop a technique that works for you. Something that will be unique to you."

"Do you also have something like that?"

"I did, but I no longer use it. What worked for me was imagining a walking tornado always moving around me. I utilized it whenever there was a need."

He thought for a second and added, "You need to remember that for most, even if they imagined a continental-sized hurricane, they couldn't use it in a fight because their Kainen is restricted; they need combat experience for their Kainen to develop. For you, it's different. It's your talent, Graham."

I nodded thoughtfully at Leader Damien's advice, "So what should I do?"

He paused, considering his response. "I feel like that's something you should ask your father," he replied finally.

"But I don't even know how to contact him," I confessed.

Leader Damien nodded understandingly. "I will see what I can do. For now, try to think about something yourself; let your imagination run wild, son," he suggested.

"Son?"

He chuckled softly. "Ah. Sorry, that's just how I speak, hahaha."

With that, it was time to leave. I gathered my thoughts and prepared to head out to recover.

As we drove away, Emily began to speak about the Anarchists, her voice taking on an oddly intrigued tone.

"To be honest, Graham, I think the Anarchists have some valid grievances against the Mafia," she mused, her eyes distant as if lost in thought.

I shot her a questioning look. "What do you mean? Are you kidding me, Emily? These fuckers just killed Rick."

"Well, Rick definitely didn't deserve any of that," Emily conceded, her tone serious. "But the Mafia isn't exactly innocent either."

Her words gave me pause. Was I the only one who had seen things in black and white, good versus evil?

Emily continued, "They want freedom. They want to create a world where it's not the selected few who hold all the power." 

As we drove on, the outside world blurred, and I thought about what she said in silence.

But something just didn't sit right with me. It seemed very strange the way she pushed these ideas forward like that.

What was up with her? They were terrorists. 

Why pursue the change of something that is not broken?

I turned to Emily, "Do you not like your life?" I asked.

Emily was visibly flustered by my question, her gaze wandering as she struggled to find the right words.

"It's not bad," she finally replied, her voice soft, "but I wish I could travel whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted. I wish I could feel safe wherever I went."

When she said that, I think I started to understand more about where she was coming from.

Back in my previous life, all of this was possible, so I wasn't really accustomed to this world yet. Being trapped in the Boston area does indeed sound like a prison.

"Well," I began, my tone lightening, "there is a way to make that happen without trying to abolish the current system." I smiled.

After the hard conversation, I dropped Emily off and I was on my way home.

I returned home and took some time to rest. I felt the need to clear my mind. I went for a swim and as the evening approached, I sank into the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room.

As I lounged on the sofa, Susan came down the stairs, "Good Afternoon, Graham. I'm sorry I was sleeping."

"No problem," I replied with a smile, shifting to make room for her on the couch.

"You look tired." she said.

"Yeah, my muscles are pretty sore."

"Well, how about a massage? I could help you relax." She offered without hesitation.

"I will gladly take you up on that offer."

It turned out that she studied to become a professional masseuse.

She asked me to take off my shirt and then began, starting at my temples, then down to my neck and shoulders. I relaxed beneath her hands.

Then she moved down to my back. She traced her hands and fingers over the span of my body; it was absolutely delightful. She rubbed, caressed, and kneaded all over my back. I released my pent-up stress as I felt her soft fingers on my skin. 

As the massage continued, I heard Susan's soft voice, "Can I have a day free tomorrow?"

Her request caught me off guard, prompting a pang of guilt. I realized that in my own fatigue, I had overlooked her need for rest and relaxation.

"Of course, Susan. You can have a break. "

I started to feel some guilt.

"I'm sorry, Susan. I'm always grateful whenever you take care of everything, but I forgot to give you a break too."

I spent the rest of the day drawing; it helped me relax mentally.

Tomorrow I needed to visit the hospital for a check-up, but there was something more important that I wanted to do.

I really wanted to get even with the people who killed Rick. If I was to make a difference, I needed to start grinding. Push myself even harder.

...

The following day, I woke up, and I realised that the house felt really empty without Susan doing her thing.

I quickly made myself an omlet and drove to school. I especially wanted to get there earlier than my classes started, for one specific reason.

That reason was the kickboxing club.

As soon as I got there, I found the gym hall that they trained in and stepped my foot inside.

It was empty.

No one was there yet; I came a bit too early. I stepped up, just near the ring and looked around at the training setup.

"Hey! The training starts in 15 minutes. Are you new or something?"