by C. S. De Mel
Being aware of the fact that training began tomorrow kept Bruce awake. Exactly what would they learn? He remembered watching Master Benny’s pupils. Would he become as good as them? If so, how long would it take him? Or maybe he wouldn’t be able to grasp a proper understanding of what he was being taught. And he would never… Bruce rubbed his eyes and shook his head. No, that’s loser talk, he told himself. He would become as good as them. Quicker than them. And then, he would surpass them. Bruce had a smile on his face as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
***
Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding! The sound of a bell echoed off the walls in Bruce and Peter’s room.
“What the hell…” Bruce rubbed his eyes open. The source of the disturbance was a young Tibetan boy standing in their doorway, several years their junior.
“It is morning! Grandmaster Shyu is ready for you!” the boy proclaimed. He rang his bell again.
“I’m up, I’m up!” Peter moaned from the top bunk.
“What time is it, Peter?” Bruce asked.
“Five thirty...”
Bruce rubbed his hand down his face. “God...”
The pair followed the Tibetan boy out of the room. He seemed to be deliberately trying to stay in front of them. “What’s your name?” Bruce asked.
“Dache!” the boy replied excitedly.
“Well, Dache, we know where everything is—the showers, the eating hall, the training room; we got the grand tour yesterday.”
“Okay!” Dache continued to walk importantly in front of them.
Bruce looked to Peter for assistance. “So, Dache...you can carry on with your usual things; we can find our way,” Peter told the boy politely. “Thank you for your help.”
“Okay, bye!” Dache smiled and waved energetically, then proceeded to run down the hall.
“Hey, Dache!” Bruce called. “Next time, ease up on the bell a little, okay?” Dache looked back smiling and waved at them again. He then turned a corner and disappeared.
“Kid needs to ease up on the sugar as well,” Peter mumbled.
Bruce and Peter showered and changed, had a quick breakfast of oats and fruit in the dining hall, then joined Keion and Akira in the training room. “Welcome, Bruce and Peter. Did you have a good rest?”
“Yes, Grandmaster,” the pair replied in unison. Other than the four of them, there was no one else in the dojo.
“Please—sit.” Bruce and Peter sat down in front of Grandmaster Shyu, while Akira sat down behind Bruce and Peter. Bruce glanced back to see Akira’s eyes boring into him. “Please bear with me, Akira, while I give Bruce and Peter an overview of what they will be learning.” Keion clasped his hands behind his back. “Let us begin. We draw upon several bodies of knowledge to instruct Legion members—to strengthen their minds, their bodies, and their spirits. A healthy academic knowledge and understanding of the sciences is often already covered in society’s education systems. Most adults that come here already have an adequate background. Of course, if people are interested, there are faculties here that can facilitate the higher pursuits of academia. You two are still children, of course. Thus, you will be attending school here at the monastery. I have already discussed it with the Walkers.” Bruce and Peter both groaned. “Ethics and morality. These are essential concepts that are constantly changing. There are no clear-cut rules for either, and every situation is dependent on the circumstances. What students try to develop here is a strong moral foundation so that, in any situation, they can use sound judgement to do what is right and what is necessary. Being able to cope with difficult situations and the ramifications of one’s actions is a lifelong challenge and a learning process.” Bruce wasn’t sure if he fully understood what Keion was talking about, but he nodded like he did anyway. “Physical conditioning...”
Bruce rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Finally, the good stuff!” Peter nudged Bruce in the ribs, urging him to shut up.
Keion took no heed. “Strength, endurance, flexibility, speed, balance, and coordination—all physical attributes imperative in the martial arts. Daily exercises will be practiced to hone each of these facets. In turn, your martial arts prowess and form will improve. You will be trained in as many martial art disciplines as you are willing to undertake. Ideally, you will take what you learn from these different schools of martial arts and create a unique style unto yourself—to promote your strengths and protect your weaknesses.” Bruce smiled. His own unique fighting style... He liked the sound of that. “Meditation. Every day. Very important to have the time to collect one’s thoughts. To have the time to relax, recuperate, and refocus one’s Qi to pursue all things in life.” Both Bruce and Peter’s hands went up. “Yes?”
“Peter wants to know what Qi is,” Bruce informed. Peter shot Bruce a dirty look.
Keion smiled. “Let me take a step back. The Omega Ops Legion has a very simple organizational structure. Once somebody has been accepted into the organization, they are known as acolytes. They are the students. Disciples of the Order. From this level, they train and gain life experience through the Legion. When the acolytes are ready and willing to undertake the responsibility, their teacher will grant them the rank of paladin. At this level, they have earned the right to teach, take on students, and make command decisions on behalf of the Legion. Only those with exceptional combat skills, dedication, and strong moral fiber ascend to the rank of paladin. These are the full-fledged members of the Legion and are able to become involved in all Legion duties.”
“How long does it take to become a paladin?” Bruce asked.
“Typically several years. The person must have reached a maturity where they are able to bear the responsibility that comes with the rank. Most reach that stage in their twenties or thirties. Some even later than that. And, of course, there are the rare exceptional cases that attain the rank before they even hit their twenties.”
“When did you become a paladin, Grandmaster Shyu?” Peter asked.
“Well, Peter, I was an exceptional case.” Keion smiled. “But let’s leave the past aside for now. I want to get back to your original question. There is one final rank above the paladin. The rank from which the grandmaster of the Legion is selected by their peers. These select few members are known as the guardians. There are two key differences that separate guardians from paladins. Any guesses as to what those two differences might be?”
“More experience?” Peter suggested uncertainly.
“Absolutely. Specifically, a much deeper understanding of right and wrong. Someone that has proven themselves time and time again. Proven that they are able to make the tough decisions—the right decisions in cases of extreme adversity.” Keion gazed down upon his students. Akira seemed to be idling in the back, but Bruce and Peter were hanging on his every word. “Good. Now then—the second difference?” Bruce and Peter glanced at each other, then looked back at Keion. They were stumped. Keion paused a few moments longer, then continued: “There is something very special that separates the guardians from paladins. Every single guardian has tapped into the Qi lines. This is one of the most fundamental concepts of life and yet incredibly complex and difficult to fully understand. This idea of Qi has been around for thousands of years. It is also known as Chi, life force, or simply ‘energy’. There are subtle differences pertaining to its understanding, dependent on the time period and culture. From the viewpoint of the Omega Ops Legion, this energy is a force that permeates throughout the planet and the cosmos. It resides in all living things and is an essential part of what makes something alive. It is mostly understood as something immaterial. But there are those few with a much deeper understanding of it—those that can tap into it and make it something tangible. This is known as energy field manipulation.”
Peter was amazed as he soaked all of this information in. He was making a conscious effort to keep his mouth from hanging open. Bruce, however, was skeptical. He wasn’t ready to just buy into this crock. Keion seemed to sense his doubt. “Bruce, please come here.” Bruce
hesitantly got to his feet and stepped forward. Keion held out his arm outstretched with an open palm. “Watch.”
Bruce focused on Keion’s hand. Within moments, little particles of light began to appear. They gathered together, as if by Keion’s command, to form a glowing ball of light. The ball of light hovered in place, just above Keion’s palm. Bruce went wide-eyed. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Peter appeared to be even more astonished than Bruce: his restraint was tossed to the wayside, and he looked ready to swallow a snooker ball. Bruce hesitantly reached with his hand. “Let’s see how long you can hold on to it,” Keion challenged.
Bruce’s hand grasped the ball of light. His hand felt very light and it seemed to go right through the ball. His fingertips disappeared in the white glow. Bruce could feel heat gathering on his fingers. It seemed to be penetrating his whole hand now. He gritted his teeth as his hand grew hotter and hotter. Finally, he pulled away, shaking his hand to cool it down. Bruce and Peter never expected anything like this when they signed up for this journey. Keion closed his hand and the ball of light disappeared. Akira watched with his arms folded in front of him. He didn’t seem to be impressed.
“That is the energy I was talking about,” Keion stated. “The greater control you can exercise over the energy fields, the more astounding the results are. What I demonstrated was just the tip of the iceberg. The possibilities are truly endless.”
Bruce’s mind was racing. “So, we’re going to learn how to use this energy? Anyone can do it?”
Keion nodded. “Tapping into the energy fields requires impressive focus as well as the harmony of mind, body, and soul. Every person is different, but theoretically, anyone has the potential to do it.” Peter appeared to be just as excited by this news as Bruce was. “However, so few achieve it due to the sheer dedication involved. People can train a lifetime and still not attain it. Martial arts attempts the union of these three elements of self and, thus, is a gateway to manipulating this energy.” Keion looked at the two boys. “You two are a long way from that level, but I will tell you this. When Chester introduced me to both of you, I sensed great potential. Natural ability plays a role in developing these skills. Natural ability and good old-fashioned hard work. I have faith that you two will make progress in leaps and bounds.”
Bruce exhaled deeply. He had never felt more certain about anything in his life. At this moment in time, this was where he was meant to be. Bruce knew the years to come would be instrumental in his growth, and he was going to make the most of it. He was home.
***
Chapter 10 – Movin’ On Up
Scorcher was slouched in his leather chair, feeling thoroughly depressed from sheer boredom. He was at the Chital Co. Tower in Manhattan; he had his top floor office to himself at the moment. Hachiuma had taken the reigns of his operation, and as of late, Scorcher had nothing much to do but keep his chair warm. The unexpected beeping from his desk intercom jarred him alert. He hit the button:
“Yeah?”
“You know what time it is.”
Scorcher’s eye lit up. “Lomez, thank God... An end to the boredom!” Lomez’s Halloween party was in just a few days.
“Put on your booties and head on down. We’ll fly out to L.A. tonight. Need to tell your papa you’re gone for the rest of the week?”
Scorcher scoffed. “Hell no, papa’s busy being a colossal red-haired douche. Believe it or not, things have actually gotten worse since he started calling the shots. Let the whole empire collapse around him, for all I care—he’ll take the heat for it, not me.”
Lomez laughed. “You seem to be wound up pretty tight there, buddy. This weekend is exactly what you need.”
“No kidding. I’ll be in Pennsylvania in time for a pre-flight dinner. Cook up something gamey.”
***
Thursday, October 28th, 1999
Nearly three weeks had passed since Hachiuma arrived in New York. With the change of command, aggression from Scorcher’s outfit subsided to barely a whisper, and rivals in New York’s criminal underworld were quick to pick up on it. One by one, Scorcher’s expansions into Queens were being picked apart by Solly’s men.
The Seaberg Lounge in Queens: owned and operated by associates of Jack Solly. Thursday evenings brought in a higher class of criminal. Oswalt Fletcher was seated at a table with Zerneck Wells, the Solly brothers, and a slew of women. They were celebrating several small victories that effectively crushed Scorcher’s opposition in Queens. The application of Oswalt’s police resources with the street intel and muscle from Solly’s side was proving itself a force to be reckoned with. Oswalt had already earned the respect of Solly’s men in a few short weeks.
“Cheers to the man of the hour!” Lucas Solly raised Oswalt’s good arm like the winning boxer after a fight.
“Here, here!” The table cheered and fired back tequila shots. Oswalt laughed and thanked everyone. He was feeling lightheaded. Mark Solly patted him on the back as everyone sat back down. Oswalt was decked out in brand new threads: a navy-blue wool-cashmere suit. He couldn’t dare dream of owning such lavish clothing before signing on with Solly. Just for saying yes, Solly had given him a sizable amount of spending money. It was funny, really... Despite being physically weakened at the moment, he had never felt more powerful in his life. Oswalt sipped on his drink.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
Oswalt looked over to the beautiful blonde woman who was seated beside him, touching his shoulder. Her finger ran down the length of his arm sling. She stared longingly at him with big blue eyes. “No, not really.” Oswalt inexplicably spaced out. He quickly took a big sip from his scotch glass. “Sorry, what was your name again?”
“Tiffany!”
Oswalt smirked foolishly. “Right...Tiffany.”
“How did it happen?”
Oswalt cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Happened on duty. A fight with a big...mean guy...”
Tiffany looked amazed. “Oh wow, were you scared?”
“Nah,” lied Oswalt, puffing out his chest. “The adrenaline just pushes the fear right out of you.”
Mark leaned in. “Don’t worry about him—you should see the other guy.”
“How’s the other guy?” Tiffany asked.
“He’s dead,” Oswalt stated casually. Tiffany’s mouth dropped open.
“He deserved it,” Lucas added. He took a bite from the gourmet roast beef sandwich in his hand. “He was a scumbag murderer that pulled a gun on Oswalt.”
“Oh...well then, good for you!” Tiffany replied cheerfully.
One of Solly’s associates walked over to their table. He whispered something to Lucas, who nodded in acknowledgement. “Oswalt—” Lucas dropped his sandwich onto his plate and signalled for them to get up. “Backroom. Something’s come up.”
Oswalt scratched at his temple. “Oh...yeah okay, let’s go.”
Mark smiled. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies.”
Zerneck raised a glass; his other arm was around his lady friend. “I’ll stay back here, if you don’t need me.” He was working a very stiff drink.
“Yeah, we can handle this,” Lucas replied. “You stay put.” Oswalt and the Solly brothers stood up.
“What’s this about, Lucas?” Oswalt asked.
“You’ll see.”
They walked through the lounge. It was mostly booths and tables, but there was a small dance floor with several couples dancing, as well as a few drunken stragglers. They entered the storeroom. The temperature inside was cool, and the walls were lined with shelves holding bottles of alcohol. Oswalt raised an eyebrow at the sight which was waiting for him. “What the hell is this?” Two of Solly’s men were in the storeroom with another figure, who was crumpled on the ground, with his arms tied behind his back. A walking cane was on the floor next to him. The man looked up; his face was bloodied. Oswalt stared. Despite his disfigurement, he recognized the man. “You were at Mr. Perkins’ apartment…with Rufus.”
The man snee
red. “Yeah, and you’re the asshole cop that shot me in the leg. And I see you’re working with these lowlife Solly brothers. Getting your wheels greased, copper? How much are they paying you?”
“This is Ian Domner,” Lucas explained. “The boys found him at one of Scorcher’s chop shops they shut down this afternoon. After a round of ‘questioning’, they pieced together some of his story and they realized he’s one of the pricks that tried to kill Jeffrey Perkins.”
Oswalt’s eyes darted from Solly’s men to Domner as a stark realization sunk in. He turned to Lucas. “How much does he know? Why the hell did they want me to talk with him?”
Lucas smiled. “They thought you would like to see him, so they brought him to you gift-wrapped. He did take shots at you and your partner, after all.”
“But I can’t be seen by him with everyone here,” Oswalt whispered urgently. “Once he’s in custody, this could blow back on me!”
Solly’s grunt smiled grimly. “Don’t worry. It won’t.” He handed Oswalt a silenced gun. “You don’t want to be using your police issue for this.”
Ian looked apprehensively at the gun in Oswalt’s hand. Mark and Lucas watched Oswalt as he turned the weapon over in his hands. “I’m not going to do this.”
Lucas leaned in and whispered in Oswalt’s ear: “This shit-heel was ready to kill you and your partner. He’s a menace.”
