Out Of Sight

The basement underneath the facility Melony had taken Holden was dedicated to training. As he was told, his absorption abilities were like a muscle, and through practice, he could enhance the results of his power. That's why he could be found inside the large room throughout the day, picking up various objects and drawing their properties into his body. The area was like a school gymnasium, the floor composed of hardwood and the walls padded with foam. Several dummies were placed around the environment, taking the shape of a male torso and head attached to a black pole fused into the floor. Some had indents imparted upon them, the source of the damage evident by the bruises spread across Holden's knuckles. He wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead, panting while he knelt downward for a break.

His bruised and battered palm neared the half-empty glass seated before him, allowing the tips of his fingers to break the water's surface. It rippled, distorting the reflection of his face. His muscles relaxed as he felt looser, his arm's movement literally increasing in fluidity as it moved. Thoughts of his power's limitations crossed his mind. With enough training, what heights could he reach upon granting himself the attributes of water? Could he be as powerful as a tsunami, while also being flexible enough to fit through any crack or crevice? 

Among the items in the room he used his ability on, the cup was only the most recent to capture his fascination. Through interacting with a bowl of hot broth, he could heat up his palms to the temperature of an active stove top. When inhaling the helium inside of a nearby pink balloon, he became lighter, and able to move more quickly. The surrounding outlets provided him with a significant electrical charge, and he could use it to shock surfaces he touched. Thinking back to Melony's comment about using her gifts to enhance her brain's processing speeds, he wondered whether he could eventually improve the efficiency of his brain's electrical signals, even if the idea seemed absurd. 

The objects were simple enough, but Holden had to start somewhere. The further he could take his technique, the more he'd get accustomed to its limitations and, more importantly, the closer he'd get to understanding its origins and therefore the nature of his mother. In his mind, it was that thought that pushed him, feeding his need to become better. He readied himself to resume his work when a voice interrupted him. 

"You perform cute magic tricks quite well! How long do you plan to keep at it? Don't you realize how pointless it is..?" Holden immediately identified the voice's owner. Jackson, in all his egotistical vanity, stood in the doorway of the suddenly too-small gymnasium. He continued before Holden could get a word in, not that it'd change the outcome of their interaction anyway.

"I don't know why you're here, and I don't really care. Whatever purpose you think you have, forget it and leave before you get yourself killed. Nobody is going to cry for you or remember you when you're a blood stain on the wall in some abandoned shithole factory. I'm trying to do you a favor."

Holden didn't respond at first. He simply marched over, standing in front of the taunting man while holding an irritated look on his face. He didn't even look Jackson in the eyes, instead looking past him.

"Not your call. I'm staying, and I've made up my mind. Now leave, before I make you leave."

Jackson didn't budge. His arms folded and he let out a small huff, his eyes narrowing while he let out a low whistle.

"Miss Melony may have brought you in, but that doesn't mean you belong here. You haven't seen what I have. Haven't been through what I've experienced. I see how you talk to her. Heard how you spoke to Natasha as well. You're just another self-centered prick without a clue. Hunting down cryptids, stopping hybrids from stepping over the line between right and wrong, you couldn't care less about any of that. You have no respect for the life we live, and it disgusts me. All that you've done since you've arrived is spit in our faces."

With that, Holden's glare finally focused on Jackson. His fists curled and he sneered with disdain while sizing up the man who dared speak to him like that. 

"Don't pretend to know anything about me. I don't care if you approve of me, but stay in your lane and we won't have any issu-"

Holden was cut off as a fist landed square into his nose, causing him to stumble back and fall to one knee. The punch was strong and perfectly executed, and Holden's hands shook as they clutched his nose, blood dripping to the floor. He rose to his feet, looking up at the now vacant doorway. His confusion only lasted for a split second before it was replaced with agony, a sharp pain ripping through his head as his scalp was clutched and he was thrown down to the floor. With a thud, his face slammed into the wood below, and Jackson stood over him, casting a dark shadow over Holden's figure. With a hard kick to the ribs, Holden was rolled over and forcefully lifted back up before being thrown into the wall.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you already. All it takes is a broken neck or a knife in your throat. You think you're hot shit for hanging with some low-level cryptids? Are you expecting this to be easy for you?"

There was no time for Holden to respond before Jackson's fist embedded itself within his gut. He coughed, clutching at his stomach while he gasped desperately for air.

"You get hit and your first reaction is to recover. It isn't even registering in your mind or body that you need to create immediate distance between yourself and the threat, let alone that you should counter-attack. Those are the kinds of instincts that will get you slaughtered. All you exude is weakness and inexperience. You're the sort of ally who gets his comrades killed, who can't defend what's precious to him. Pathetic."

Jackson's gruff voice rang in Holden's ears, the condescending meaning behind each word infuriating him. He once more tried to regain his composure, pressing his back against the wall and attempting to lock his sights on Jackson. The man's form appeared briefly in Holden's peripheral vision, but he disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. Within an instant, a kick was pushed into Holden's leg, staggering him and sending him tumbling down. Jackson's speed was impressive, but bewildering all the same. Although his pace outperformed Holden's in every instance, the difference between his movements now and when Holden was directly looking at him was very noticeable. It was as if he could immediately close the distance between the two of them, somehow pushing his alacrity beyond what was natural. 

"It's useless to try to react to him, it's like he's always behind me. If I can't track him, then maybe..."

Holden pressed his hand against the padded wall nearby just moments before another strike connected. He winced in expectation of yet another concussive blow to topple him, but his technique granted him momentary reprieve as he cushioned the impact; an invisible helmet of sorts lessening the damage. He wasn't nearly as staggered as before and he seized the opportunity to counterstrike. Holden's retaliatory hit was haphazardly sent into Jackson's gut. The much larger man gasped in surprise, expecting to feel the painful aftermath only to realize that the blow was too soft to matter. Holden backed away slowly, and for the moment, Jackson made no move to retaliate.

"Your speed is inconsistent. It doesn't feel like you're rapidly changing your pace just to throw me off. What the Hell is going on," Holden asked. 

"I don't mind telling you, since you can't do anything about it. My power originates from my father, who was a Hidebehind. They're creatures infamous for escaping detection. When you're not looking directly at me, I'm free to manifest into any of your blind spots. The process is nearly instant, you'd have to be faster than your own shadow to react to me once I've used my ability. Nobody can respond quickly enough, with the exception of Miss Melony." Jackson tapped his foot against the floor, looking down upon Holden with sheer contempt.

"So that's how it is, huh? That's... annoying," replied Holden, taking a moment to catch his breath. "But I'm confused..."

Jackson tilted his head, unsure of what Holden meant. "Confused? About what? What the Hell could you possibly not understand?"

"I don't understand why you think this is enough to make me leave. You can make all the assumptions you want about me, I don't care. Like I said earlier, I'm here to stay. Nothing you do can change that." Holden wiped his hand across his face, his fingers tracing along his eyes before his arm fell back down to his side. 

"Okay then. I thought you were an idiot, but I didn't expect you to be this stupid. I'll beat your ass until you learn, that's fine by me." Jackson began approaching, readying his fists. Holden reciprocated his advancement, and the two began to brawl.

Punches, elbows, and kicks were thrown out in a random assortment on Holden's end, his experience with fighting being relatively low compared to his opponent. Jackson on the other hand remained calm and collected, expertly side-stepping and deflecting the bombardment.

"The one condition I have to fulfill to activate my ability is that you aren't directly looking at me. In that way, it's momentum-based. It's nearly impossible to constantly maintain eye contact with an adversary. Eventually, you'll blink. Maybe the sweat will drip into your eyes. Perhaps you'll be thrown off by an unexpected movement or hit. When that happens, it's hopeless for you. Regaining direct sight while being assaulted from your blind spots won't come easy."

Holden gritted his teeth as his jaw was smacked hard with an elbow. Using the opportunity, Jackson disappeared once more, emerging behind Holden and throwing a powerful roundhouse kick towards the back of his head. To his surprise, Holden immediately recognized the angle of the attack and ducked appropriately, spinning around and cracking Jackson in the neck with an open palm. The large man clutched his throat and coughed, throwing out another kick to try and make distance. Holden checked before it could even gain power, bolstering the hardness of his leg by absorbing that property of the wooden floor.

"That shouldn't even be possible," Jackson croaked, a small bruise forming where Holden struck him.

"I saw it coming. There's little more to say. You can attempt to use your ability again, but it won't work anymore. That's why you haven't, right? You can't meet your condition now."

"So that's what you did? Clever. However..." Jackson began, before somehow vanishing from sight again. Holden spun around, eyes widening as his foe did the impossible. He hardly had time to register what was going on before he was on the floor again. Jackson had slammed him down and now mounted him with malicious intent. He relentlessly battered Holden with a pummeling that fully spoke to his malevolent attitude. Holden could taste the blood that filled his mouth and could smell the iron as it poured freely from his nose. He could feel the sting of his cheeks as cuts marred his skin, knowing that there would already be bruises forming that were sure to darken. Only when Holden stopped struggling did Jackson cease his onslaught. The man got up and looked down at Holden, his body motionless on the ground. He turned to walk away but stopped himself when Holden began to mutter something from behind him.

"Where are you... going... we aren't finished."

Holden tried and failed to stand, resorting to resting his body against the wall. 

"How did you... I covered my blind spots." 

"Miss Melony told me about the doll cryptid you fought. Remember how it played a game with you? A ritualistic version of hide and seek, with established rules and consequences?"

"Yeah... but what does that have to do with..." Holden said before coughing, unable to finish.

"Cryptids aren't the only ones who can perform rituals. Hybrids can do it as well. We often engage in them to make up for our weaknesses. By exchanging something meaningful, we reap great benefits. In my case, I agreed to dull one of my senses for the next five minutes, in exchange for forcing a blind spot upon you in spite of your counter to my ability. Looks like it was my sight that took a hit."

"You can just... do that?"

"Yeah, but it needs to be an equivalent exchange. Many hybrids and cryptids use rituals like that, or they have deals with other cryptids and hybrids for an agreed-upon price. Either way, if the trade isn't equal, you won't be given an advantage in a fight. In fact, some people who try to cheat the system end up crippled or dead. You have to be experienced and intelligent to consistently do it, so many weak cowards outright refuse to try."

"So that's... how." Holden fell flatly against the ground again, barely clinging to consciousness.

"Yeah, that's how. That's also all you need to know, for now. None of your injuries are lethal, so you're going to be fine. You're still weak. You're still likely going to die. But you seem innovative and resilient enough. Maybe you'll last a little longer than I first anticipated. Regardless, if I ever catch you speaking to Natasha the way you did again, or if I catch wind that you disrespect Miss Melony despite her faith in you... I'm going to make this even worse for you. Don't you forget that while you're here."

With that, Jackson exited the room, leaving Holden to rest on the floor until he found the energy to move.