Grave of Heroes 6 Chapter 6

They kept at it for hours. Braden's arms burned and his shirt was drenched with sweat. He took gasping breaths between swings, sucking in as much air as he could.

Darvish said nothing as he this, already accustomed to it.

People awaken their abilities often through intense physical or emotional stress. As a result, Braden always pushed himself to his extreme limits when he did this job, trying to awaken his ability. Even now, he hadn't given up hope that he'd awaken his ability before the end of the day.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Darvish checked his watch and then called out, "That'll be it for today."

Braden kept swinging madly. Darvish sighed as he saw this.

Extending a tendril of thought, he lifted the handaxe out of Braden's hand.

"That's it for today. Go get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." Darvish walked away, taking the tools back to the gardening shed.

Braden stood, gasping for air as sweat dripped off him.

A growing sense of dread began to set in. Another fruitless day. Only this day, unlike the others, marked an ending. If he couldn't develop an ability by 11:47 PM he would forever be without one.

He might have complained about how unfair it was, but life had already taught him that the universe didn't care about the concept of "fairness". If it had, would he have been stuck with a mother who resented his existence, and reminded it of him daily? If it had, would it have taken his mother, who for all her abuse was the only family he knew, when he was so young?

Braden shook his head. There was no use griping to himself about fairness.

All he could do was face things as they were. Besides, he still had a few hours of time. He still had hope.

He lifted his shoulder to wipe some sweat from his face on his short sleeve. Then he began the walk back to his house.

As he walked into his neighborhood, he noticed that the thugs seemed to have finally left. At least that was a small mercy.

Shaking his head, he went into the house and made himself dinner with the government provided rations.

He tried to think what else he could do. He tried thinking of his mother, of his anguish he felt when she died, as well as the sick sense of relief that the abuse would finally stop. He tried to focus on his guilt at that relief. He tried to stimulate his emotions. They said that intense emotions could trigger an ability as surely as physical exertion.

But it was all in vain. He hadn't even been able to awaken an ability when those emotions were fresh. Now that those wounds had scarred over, they naturally weren't enough to trigger him.

He spent the remaining hours in a fruitless bid to push himself, reaching for his growing panic and dread at not awakening an ability, even trying to hold himself under the water in his bath until he nearly passed out. Nothing worked.

And so, Braden was forced to realize he had run out of options.

"Is this really it?" He wondered. He couldn't think of anything else he could do.

He wanted to stay awake until the last moment, but the day of emotional and physical exertion made him so tired he couldn't help but let darkness claim his mind, even as his eyelids grew too heavy to lift, and darkness took his vision.

It was a noise that woke him. A noise that didn't belong.

The neighborhood was empty, and there shouldn't be anyone around to make noise. Yet when he awoke he heard the banging of a door slamming shut, sounds of feet walking on pavement, and muffled noises he couldn't quite make out.

As he came to consciousness he looked at the clock by the bed and saw that it was only 11:00 PM.

"Still not over yet." He thought to himself. If the universe was going to deny him a future, it could at least let him sleep through that moment. However, he didn't allow himself to ruminate on it, as the noises continued to sound from outside.

Annoyed he went to the window and pushed the blinds open slightly with his fingers so he could see.

The thugs were back. It seemed they'd taken up residence in the house next door. It wasn't legal, but it's not like anyone was there to complain. The owners of the house had left long ago. Squatters were a reality of the world these days. Even so long after the Cataclysm, and the invasion of the Outsiders, there just weren't enough people to live in every house and dwelling. It served as an ever present reminder of the events that had nearly destroyed the Earth.

Braden shook his head, clearing these thoughts away as he tried to shake the cobwebs of sleep from his mind.

He focused on the scene in front of him.

The two thugs he'd seen every day for the past month were out front on the street carrying something. No, not something. Someone!

Braden's eyes widened as he saw a struggling figure with a bag over its head, troused up with rope, being carried into the house. Another man stood at the door to the house and watched them carry her towards him.

He said something, but Braden couldn't hear it from where he was.

The muffled sounds of protest seemed to be coming from the figure being forcibly carried by the thugs.

"A kidnapping?" Braden wondered. "In this day and age?" He really couldn't fathom it. Crime was treated much more seriously than it had been before the Cataclysm, a necessary adjustment as the appearance of Supers with their abilities made it so even small incidents could be lethal or devastating. Most crimes carried a death penalty, and so the number of crimes had gone down drastically. Whether it was deterrence or the result of the numerous executions that had occurred, that was something far beyond Braden's knowledge.

What he did know was that he was currently witnessing a crime. He quickly went to the phone in his house and dialed the number for emergency services.

"Gaia Emergency Response Force, what is your emergency?" A mechanical voice sounded.

"I'm witnessing a kidnapping in progress." Braden answered urgently.

"Connecting you to an operator." The mechanical voice said. These days most government services were operated remotely by AI systems, and you could only get in touch with a person in the event that the system determined it was something that went beyond its capabilities.

"This is Officer Black, what's happening?" A deep male voice came over the phone.

Braden related what he'd seen to the man.

There was a brief silence on the phone, before the man's voice came back. "We have your location. It will take us a couple of minutes to respond as the task force responsible for your region is currently engaged in another matter. We ask that you do what you can to delay things. Are you a Super?"

Braden felt that familiar pang, but pushed it down as there was no time to indulge in self-pity. "No, I'm only fifteen and haven't awoken an ability yet."

Another pause. "Understood. We'll respond as quickly as we can. Please keep an eye on what's happening." Then a dial tone rang indicating the call had been ended.

Braden felt frustrated. The man had dismissed him because he didn't have a power. It was possible the other side didn't either. All schools had mandated education programs, and they included basic self-defense and combat training. It's not like he was totally useless.

"Wait, am I trying to talk myself into doing something?" Braden realized.

He hesitated. It's true the other party might not have abilities, but then again they might. These days, Supers were extremely common. It's just that most of the truly powerful Supers were taken by the government or the elite clans, which were basically the government anyways.

"I can't just stand by and do nothing." Braden reasoned with himself. He felt an indescribable urge to act, to do something.

A quiet voice in the back of the mind whispered, "This may be your last chance. If risking your life doesn't awaken your ability nothing will. If this doesn't do it, then you must not have an ability at all."

Braden tried to ignore this voice as he rationalized his reasons for doing this. Before he realized it he had already run to the kitchen, grabbed a large knife, and ran out the door. The thugs had already gone into the house by this point.

Braden approached the house cautiously, knife held in front of him in a tight grip that turned his knuckles white.

Chapter end