The force that violently slammed into his back mere moments ago cleared his mind and firmed his resolution. It also brought his ultimate goal back into focus. Self-indulgence and pride had allowed him to fall into such dire circumstances. But now that he was aware of his flaw, he would use it to his advantage. This flaw may have allowed his mother the opportunity, and in her mind, the right to bring him to heel, but she'd have a hell of a fight on her hands if she planned on accomplishing her goal.

It would have been a lie to say Lisey wasn't enjoying herself immensely. The boy speeding towards her was becoming a persistent irritant. In a perfect world, she would have preferred to pawn him off on one of her underlings. But she needed this particular irritant, and besides, this had become a personal matter.

The boy's fast, I'll give him that. The Lady thought with a smile. Before she'd finally managed to land an attack, her son had succeeded in putting several football fields worth of distance between them. Because of the type and power of runes engraved on hidden panels found throughout the dojo, space became a malleable commodity and could be modified depending on the occupants' needs. In this case, her son wanted distance, so the dojo granted his desire. Not that it would do him any good. Again she smiled.

Boy, you have this coming. Every fiber of Lisey Powers, the matriarch of House Powers and one of the Ten Great Pillars, believed this to be true. The Pillars embodied the epitome of power and influence in Awakened society. As a proud member of this institution, she should have been above such base emotions. But the strain of dealing with a flippant son that both was and wasn't hers stretched the limits of her patience too far.

Arrogant. That one word repeatedly beat a staccato into Lisey's mind like a tribal drum. And in turn, she wanted to pound her mounting frustrations into the boy who was currently hurtling towards her though still too far away.

"Hmm, I'd say he's about one hundred and fifty yards away," she mumbled, gauging the rapidly decreasing distance. Lightning formed into a mailed fist and sheathed itself around both her hands." Boy." The lightning spread until it covered the Storm Elementalist's entire body." One day, you may prove to be a powerful ally." But her son was just too arrogant for his own good. "As a parent, it's my job to discipline as well as educate. Unfortunately, you chose pain as the medium for your correction."

The power radiating from Lady Powers turned Sia's virtual blood cold. She concentrated all the psychic energy she could bring to bear and screamed a warning at Theo. *Wake up!* 

Sia's terrified voice blasted Theo's mind with the concussive force of a missile barrage. The quality of the anguish that rode shotgun on that psychic thread fired every synapse in his head. His eyes snapped open, and he suddenly felt the sudden sensation of wind tearing past his face. When his eyes locked onto the aura of lightning wrapped around his mother, his throat went dry. 

"Look who decided to wake up," Lisey snarled condescendingly. Her target was still a distance away from her, but that didn't matter. Thunder Finger, she yelled again, aiming a finger at her son. The force behind this attack was lower than last time since she didn't want to kill her son, only teach him a lesson by inflicting as much pain as possible.

"Oh, come on," Theo cried in disbelief. He could sense the power behind that attack even from a distance." You've got to be kidding me." He screamed, instinctively using Talent to enhance his voice." Are you trying to kill me?" 

"Of course not," she replied with a smile." Look at it as special training. And there's no need for you to worry about injuries. I can have several of the best Healers money can buy here to fix whatever I break."

Theo watched the range steadily decrease with cold eyes. Only fifty yards separated him from his tormentor. He sank into the Mists and felt the sharp kiss of the Ebony cool his rising temper. Dark Lightning Mantle, he screamed in his mind. The smell of ozone wafted through the dojo as black lightning crackled then enveloped his body. His skin tingled as his perceptions once again slowed. 

Theo opened his mind fully and allowed all the teachings of Eight Lightning Palms Shadow-Step permeate his entire being. Only twenty yards separated him from his mother, but thanks to Dark Lightning Mantle, his rate of speed had slowed dramatically, which was fine by him. He watched the distance continue to decrease and couldn't help but smile. When the range finally closed to ten yards, he made his move. He threw a fist out and yelled." Thunder Punch!" If a single finger from his mother could send him flying, what would an entire fist do when he flung it at her?

If you want me so badly, take this! Theo screamed in his mind, throwing a first out. A sheath of pure force enveloped his fist moments before said force was released with terrifying intensity.

The blast of concentrated force barreled at its target at breakneck speed. At the last moment, she managed to dodge to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack by the slimmest of margins. She tensed her muscles and prepared to counterattack but stopped when the tangy smell of ozone assaulted her nostrils. Seconds later, Theo's slender form flickered momentarily before it landed lightly in front of her.

”What the—” Lisey yelled as she skipped backward, fleeing from her son’s sudden appearance. Then she used Lightning Step to hasten her escape. 

”Oh no, you don't,” Theo murmured, as he charged after his fleeing query. Before she could get out of range, he used Shadow-Step. His form flickered momentarily before it disappeared, only to reappear seconds later directly behind his prey. ”Going somewhere?” he asked with a smile.

The blood drained from Lisy’s face as stunned disbelief shook her entire being. She would never have believed that Theo’s fighting skills would progress so quickly.

The implications of what she’d seen during this brief battle were staggering.  It was bad enough that the boy could create his own skills and techniques, seeming out of thin air. Now she’d personally witness him modifying one of her techniques into an even better version. 

Time seemed to slow down as Lisey’s body attempted to turn to meet the danger behind it. 

”Don’t bother,” Theo said lazily, his body disappearing once again before she could finish the movement. 

”Not again,” Lisey moaned, her eyes darting around furtively. She didn't dare move anything else for fear of finding herself out of position and thus unable to protect herself. The speed she was witnessing was on a level she’d never seen before. 

”Looking for me?” snickered a voice from behind Lisey. She attempted to turn quickly to meet the attack she was sure was on its way. The last words she heard before everything went dark were, ’Thunder Punch!’

The sound of footsteps approaching her cell’s entrance garnered Steele's immediate attention. She had just enough time to wipe her eyes and schooled her face into its usual mask before the entrance opened. She sat up, swung her legs to the side of the bed, and waited. Two heartbeats later, the door slid open, making almost no sound—a middle-aged man with an expressionless face she did not recognize stepped into the entryway. 

Since she didn't have access to her Talent, Steele had to rely on her other senses to discern her visitor’s potential threat level.  With a composed eye, she watched every twitch or shift in the man's body language, but he gave nothing away. He just stood there, like an expressionless mountain. 

Several moments past, before he finally took a step into the Ranger’s cell. 

Steele's face was impassive, but on the inside, her nerves were stretched to the limit. She’d hoped that when the man entered her cell, whatever mechanisms the room used to suppress her Jewels would be shut off. 

As if he could read the Ranger’s mind, the man suddenly smiled. ”I know what you're thinking. But the seals around your cell were explicitly constructed to block only your Talent.”

She kept her face blank, refusing to let her disappointment show. Instead, she focused on the way the man moved. He’d only taken one step, but to her trained eye, that was all it took to give her her first impression of the man. 

He moves like someone used to hunting prey, though he does an excellent job of hiding it. Steele thought as she watched the man’s fluid yet measured actions. Every survival instinct in her body screamed danger in unison.  If she were alone and met this man on a battlefield, she would run, damn her pride. 

Every subtle shift of muscle screamed killer to anyone with the training to notice. They were the graceful movements of a born predator, fluid in their strangely feline grace. 

The Ranger silently scoffed but took note of the strange incongruence between what her eyes saw and what her gut felt. The man wore the formal attire of a nobleman's head attendant. The man's apparel was tailor-fit and covered a slender athletic frame that evidenced years of training. I don’t care what clothing covers that man. He is no simple servant.

The man appeared to be middle-aged, but she wouldn't have bet any money on it. He had the air of someone who would have been just as comfortable serving drinks to his master’s guests as he would have been slitting their throats. Regardless of the action, it would be done while retaining the same expressionless visage. I don't care how old this guy looks or what clothes he wears. He smells like a killer. 

The servant scrutinized the interior of the cell with a simple glance. When his eyes finally settled on the Ranger, he took in every microexpression that flickered across the prisoner's face. A subtle smile, the first visible sign of emotion, creased his otherwise unremarkable face when he was done. Nothing genuine could be gleaned from the gesture.

The man appeared to be middle-aged, but she wouldn't have bet any money on it. He had the air of someone who would have been just as comfortable serving drinks to his master’s guests as he would have been slitting their throats. Regardless of the action, it would be done while retaining the same expressionless visage. I don't care how old this guy looks or what clothes he wears. He smells like a killer. 

The servant scrutinized the interior of the cell with a simple glance. When his eyes finally settled on the Ranger, he took in every microexpression that flickered across the prisoner's face. A subtle smile, the first visible sign of emotion, creased his otherwise unremarkable face when he was done. Nothing genuine could be gleaned from the gesture.

Even with my Jewels, I'm not sure if I could break this man. The first signs of worry creased Steele’s brow. 

This man was the most trusted servant of Lady Powers. His only duty was to fulfill the will of his Lady, whatever that may be. His face was a mask, and his most important tool. Its sole purpose was to present an appearance unworthy of a second glance. A countenance that would effortlessly blend back into the sea of humanity without leaving a second thought before suddenly reappearing behind its intended target. Whatever hid behind that mask was a mystery to all but two individuals—the man behind the act and his master. 

Instinct and training warned the Ranger that she was better off not knowing what truly lay beyond the servant’s facade. But she was confident of one thing. If this man were ordered to kill her and remove all traces of the act, he would accomplish the task and maintain the same bland look while he did it.

Suddenly he spoke and proceeded to tell Special Agent Steele the deal offered by Lady Powers.