Excepting the first blow from Mohawk Janice, Layla reveled in the blossoming pain as his fist connected to the side of her jaw. It was a good blow. The strike sent her ears to ringing, and black dots dragged in her vision as she dodged away from his tackle. It wasn’t yet time to take it to the ground. 

The Mohawk pivoted smoothly even in his seemingly berserk rage and continued his assault. A shot to her ribs partially negated by her tensed muscles that were ready for the blow. An attempted kick to the side of her knee thwarted by a jump. Another strike accepted beside her nose on the upper cheek. The hint of iron filled her mouth. The taste of blood like a sweet candy she had missed from her childhood.

Yes, more! 

She wanted to feel more pain. Layla didn’t fight back. She only avoided blows that would do debilitating damage.

She had to give him credit. He was well-practiced in the martial arts, but his movements were too textbook even in his drunken rage-filled haze. He worked the same patterns over and over. There were numerous openings she could have exploited. Even in her semi-stunned state from his blows, he was also still too slow. She had fought beings much faster and thrice as skilled. 

“Is this all?” She said to him as she dodged a jab aimed at her chin. “Do you really not have anymore for me?” Her voice full of disdain but quite enough for only him to hear. 

Mohawk stiffened at the words, and then he pulled a blade from out of his robes. “You will die for ever dreaming to insult the Cellini family you gutter—,”

Layla never let him finish the insult. The blade's appearance, along with being called a derogatory name, sent her into a rage. Which wasn’t a good thing considering that she was already a ticking bomb of anger. This one never seemed to learn. 

She moved in with a palm strike to his nose. A rewarding sickening crunch was felt in her hand. Using two hardened knuckles, she struck his wrist hard enough to temporally stun the nerve. Mohawk Janice dropped the weapon, and Layla caught it by the blade cocked back and threw the knife. It flew in a single flip to stab into the wall beside the ranking board with a thump.  

She swept the legs out from under Mohawk Janice and lept atop his stunned form. She felt his right cheekbone crack in her first blow and joy-filled her heart. Each strike, each time her fist landed on soft, pliable flesh, she shuttered internally. Flecks of Mohawk's blood splashed across her face as she let her blow fall like hammers onto his stupid, arrogant face. 

This… this… was what she needed. It felt right. This sharing of pain and rage. Mohawk Janice feebly tried to stop her blows or buck her off his chest, but she stuck to him like glue. 

She began to laugh. A tiny part in her cringed at the tone. It didn’t sound like any laugh she had ever made before. It was full of malice and dark intent. The people who had been silently watching the conflict paled at its sound. 

Layla continued to tenderize Mohawk Janice's face into a pulpy mess. Her knuckles ached, but her arms were just warming up. She had been so used to fighting in prolonged conflicts that she felt as though she could literally do this for hours. Would there be anything left of Janice afterward was another question entirely. 

Layla had taken care to keep Mohawk Janice's lackeys in the corner of her eye. As expected, the moment the tables had turned on their master, the lackeys would move in to rescue him. The fact that they had let her do this much damage was not surprising. Mohawk Janice might be as intelligent as a rock, but the others had remembered how she had cut through their ranks single-handedly. The fear was still there in their eyes, but their loyalty to him finally won out. 

The small stage became cramped quickly as four lackeys in matching robes rushed in to seize her. She hopped into a crouch, gave Janice’s limp form one more hammer blow for luck, and committed to one of the four lackeys. They were much more cautious this time, but Layla wasn’t here to have a battle. She was here to sate her growing rage and desire to inflict harm. 

Accepting a meaty fist to her side, she traded the blow with an elbow strike to the man's jaw. His eyes rolled back into his head and began to collapse but not before Layla delivered a shin kick to his groin. A hand grabbed the back of her robe, jerking her off balance. Another attempted to seize her arm, but she broke its hold once she stabilized. 

Layla’s instincts were running at full throttle as she jumped a heel kick that would have torn the ligament in her knee to shreds. She retaliated with a heel kick of her own. The man fell as his diaphragm spasmed uncontrollably. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of the water as he tried to take a breath that just wouldn't come. 

More and more black robes began to appear on the stage. She put down a brown-haired girl with a kick to the face. Then no more black robes came near her. She wanted more. She needed more. Why weren’t they coming at her? She was fury made manifest. 

The bonfire of rage inside of her soared. It was blinding. It consumed her completely. Putting her arms out to the side, she flexed inward with her fist balled up and roared out her fury. Layla fell into a berserk-like trance. The world went red, and the rest of her reason faded out. 

She came too sometime later as the last attacking potential hit the ground. Around a dozen people lay unconscious and bleeding. The potential she had just dropped began to beg her to stop. She was confused. Stop what? What had happened again? She had… been fighting and… but why? Had she really just started a fight and then… did this. 

Layla looked down at her hands. Blood dripped from them onto the stage. What had she done? Was she actually this type of person? A person who picked fights just so she could do harm to others. 

The potentials all stared at her in shocked aww and open fear. The looks made Layla sick. She felt her final vestiges of anger drain away. She knew now that she would not be making any friends here. Not after this so open display of ruthlessness. 

The lonely sadness began to slip back in, slowly applying pressure to the dam of tears trying to break through. She had to get away from this. To get away from these people. She looked down, pulled up her hood, and jumped off the stage. Everyone backed away from her as she made for the exit of the dorm. 

As she made it to the door, she saw the bearded guy from earlier. They met each other's eyes. She didn’t see judgment there. The only thing she could find was an understanding sadness. She didn’t know why but the look shook her, and she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. 

She rushed out the door to escape and ran as hard and as fast as she could. The cobblestone blurred in her sight as the tears fell like rain. Sobs wracked her body as she attempted to outrun the empty feeling in her heart. 

Each turn ended with a gate she could not cross. Every alley was a dead end. Finally, giving up on the running at the end of one such alley, she braced her arms against the dead end and tried to gain control of her emotions. She failed. The first punch to the was out of frustration and only a light jab. As her tears began their halting flow, the force behind them increased. The insidious black anger reared its head once more. 

Anger at herself. Anger at Atom. Anger at her life. And most of all, anger at her actions. Why did she do something so stupid? She would probably be thrown out of the Academy now. There was no way they would allow her to get away with hurting so many people. Especially in a conflict she had instigated. 

A punch hit nothing but air, and she stumbled forward, sprawling into a well-lit entryway. Looking up, she found a roguish-looking pink-haired man with glowing eyes. Had she been punching on a doorway? She cursed. 

“Well well well. If it isn’t friend Layla. I didn’t expect you to be beating down my back door.” Said the voice of Torren, the shopkeeper. His voice was a deep rumble like a boulder tumbling down a mountainside but there was also a musical quality underneath. 

Layla looked up and met his black and pink orbs. A shock of shame ran through her, and she looked away. She could only imagine what her face looked like. Dried tears and bloodshot eyes mixed with splatters of blood. 

A look of concern crossed his face before he gave her a helping hand up. “Come inside dear. Lets get you cleaned up.” 

Layla took the proffered hand. It felt feverish to the touch but also soft and gentle. Torren hoisted her up and guided her out of the way of the entry. He looked out the doorway that she now realized she had been beating on. Not seeing whatever he was looking for, Torren closed it and then turned to her. 

“Now before we take care of you. I need to know something. Is there a body I need to go and retrieve or more than one?” He said casually, although his large frame looked relaxed there was a slightly tense feel to it. 

She was startled by the question. Why would there be any bodies? He would retrieve them? For what?

He saw the confusion in her eyes before he relaxed, “Well never you mind then. You show up covered in blood like that, beat all to hell, and there is typically bodies somewhere. But good, good… Okay well follow me. I’ll get you some stuff to clean up with.” 

Layla felt mentally exhausted. Her emotions were in tattered rags. A mixed goulash feelings so tangled that she could be bothered to consider them anymore. Only confusion lay there. So she went into autopilot and followed the odd man without question. She tried to care that she’d just met the man, but it was a struggle that wasn’t worth the effort. 

Torren brought her a small hand towel and a bowl of warm water. He wet the towel and gave it to Layla, and she began to wipe off the blood. She was thankful the towel was a dark color. She didn’t want to see the blood. After a few rinses, the water colored to a light pink tint, but she eventually felt a little better after cleaning her face and hands. 

The shopkeeper had sat down across from her. He said nothing to her while she cleaned herself. Something she was thankful for. Layla needed this time to gather her thoughts. 

She rubbed her knuckles on her hands. She saw that a few were bruised pretty severely, and she had several gashes on them as well. Torren noticed and stood up. He walked out the door to the room for a moment and then returned with a small faintly glowing crystal. Layla recognized it as a healing crystal. Tess had used one on her the night before to heal similar wounds. Another event where she failed to control herself, albeit in a more justified situation. 

He stood beside her, and she held out her hands. A warm feeling washed over her. The warm feeling turned into more hotness around her injuries and then healed like magic before her eyes. This type of crystal could only be used to heal minor wounds. Tess said the item accelerated the healing process the body used to repair injuries. It also improved the process. 

Typically when the skin is damaged, the body has many little messengers that it releases at the sight of the wound. This causes inflammation, along with other little things that Layla didn’t understand. Tess said that when the injury tries to heal itself, an over-proliferation of tissue usually happens so the sight can be repaired. This over-proliferation tends to leave behind excess tissue, a scar. The crystal improves on the process, acting as a master conductor precisely controlling everything to prevent the negative effects of healing. 

Layla didn’t know how much something like this cost, but she assumed it wasn’t cheap since she had never even seen something like it in her life until yesterday. 

“I can pay you back.” She said. Her voice was hoarse. Probably from the screaming she had done earlier. 

Torren waved her off as he slipped the small gem into his pocket. He sat down across from her at the table. The two said nothing for a time. The silence wasn’t awkward like she thought it would be. It just was. Torren’s face held an open and inviting expression. 

Layla felt no pressure to speak, but at some point, she started. She told him everything. She talked about her time on Golar and the disappearance and likely murder of her parents. Her life on the streets as she waited for a family that never came, about her brother who found her and taught her how to survive in the gutters of the desert city. She talked quite a bit about her life with Jogen. Tales of their adventures thieving and the close calls they had running from the authorities. 

Torren was an enthusiastic listener. He laughed at the right spots and grimmest at the blunders Layla and Jogen had made through the years. She eventually made it to Jogen’s death and the events that led her to be here. She edited a few things like her visit to the Council's stronghold and her time in the Slice, but she let it all out for the most part. All the way to the events that lead her to the assault on his back door. It felt good to talk about everything. Every story pulled off a chain that had been slowly strangling her from the inside. 

The pent up rage and aggression seemed to fade away as Torren listened. The hole in her heart for Jogen was still there, but it seemed to be smaller and more manageable. Torren was a stranger, but Layla guessed that sometimes it was just like that. A person needed someone who wasn’t involved in talking to. A person that wanted to hear your story and held no judgment about it or you. 

Torren reached out and patted her hand kindly, “Thank you Layla. Thank you for sharing your story with me.” 

Layla’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, “I-I it was nothing…,” she trailed off. 

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, Layla. It was your story. One of the most precious things a person can give. I’m honored to have received it. To have been through so much at, wait how old are you? Sixteen or seventeen?”

She shrugged, “I’m not really sure to be honest.” Which was the truth. As far as she knew, she could be over a hundred now.

“Well your young in comparison to my old bones that is for sure,” he said as he leaned back into his chair. 

Torren's face went into a pensive expression. Layla left him to his thoughts for the moment. He eventually looked back at her. His glowing eyes assessed her for something, but she didn’t know what it might be. He seemed to make a decision about something.

“Layla, do you care to hear some advice. You don’t have to of course but I think it might be helpful.” He offered. 

She considered his statement for a moment, then gave him a sheepish grin, “I think I’d like that very much. Listening to a piece of advice is the least I could do for dumping all this on you.” 

He leaned in, looking around the room as though what he was about to say might be too dangerous for someone else to hear. Layla leaned in as well, expecting something profound. But when Torren spoke, she was floored. 

“Just let it go.” 

She looked at him in confusion, “Just let it go. Let what go? I don’t understand.” 

“Just let it go. It’s as simple as that,” he asserted. 

“You see young one. I think you originally had the right idea when you first stepped foot on this planet but I don’t think you really committed to it fully. That is understandable. More than understandable really. You’ve been through much hardship in your life but you can’t change that can you. It happened. That’s that. You have no control over your past. So I say just, let it go. You are here now even if you never wanted to be. Layla, I think you may be missing something important that is right infront of you.”

Layla didn’t know what she was missing. Aside from her childhood memories with her parents, she had a near-perfect recall of her memories. “I don’t know what I could be missing. Especially something important.” She countered. 

He smiled, “You have no idea do you?” 

Layla was starting to get annoyed. Of course, she didn’t have an idea. The daft man hadn’t told her yet. She rubbed her glabella, “Let say I’m slow on the up take. Just tell me what I missing,” she said, sighing aloud. 

Torren gave a chuckled but eventually let her in on the profound, important thing she had been missing.

“Layla my dear. What you don’t see is that, you have made it.” 

She gave him a look of skepticism before repeating his words, “I’ve made it.” 

“That you have. It’s understandable that you don’t realize it yet. There has been a good bit of heart ache that has lead you to this point. But you’ve made it Layla. You are in one of the most elite Academies in existence. You’re attending for free and with expenses paid. You have been accepted as a disciple and been trained by a Master who teaches at this prestigious institution. You took the number one rank in this years crop of potentials. Your friends also gained a discipleship because of you. No matter how much of a bastard your Master may be, you can’t teach hear unless you are the best. You don’t understand how significant that is but you will with time.” Torren said. The words washed over Layla like a bucket full of ice water. 

Had she made it? It didn’t feel like it to her, but how would she know. She’d been in a constant struggle her whole life. There had been good times, of course, but there had always been something. Rent or food. The next job. Hadn’t it all been for this very thing? All the years they had struggled, this had always been the end goal or something like it. 

Without Jogen here, she had cast a negative light on everything. This had been his dream, really. Not that she wouldn’t have turned down the opportunity. It was just she hadn’t dared dream of having more than what she’d had. With Jogen no longer by her side, she had to this point refused to accept what a gift this all might be. 

Atom was still a scumbag who deserved to forever have nasty foot fungus on his face. His downfall to misery and despair, while Layla stood above him with her boot grinding into his back, was without question a motivation in her life. But… she could accept that he had done her a solid by bringing her to this place. 

Was it that simple? It couldn’t be. Was she so blinded by her past that she couldn’t see the brilliant opportunity she was already taking advantage of? She had made it. Maybe not how she wanted to, but now that it had been pointed out to her, she couldn’t deny it. 

She slumped back in her chair with a thoughtful expression. “Huh, I guess I have made it.” 

Torren snorted before saying, “Girl if you haven’t made it then I’ve never seen someone who has.”

Layla grunted at that. It sure didn’t feel like it to her. She imagined it would feel, she didn’t know precisely how it would feel, but this wasn’t it. She’d expected more or maybe a sign from the heavens.

“What did you think there would be some type of divine signal beamed into your brain from the heavens? That said, Layla Breezewalker you have made it. Welcome to the good life.” 

Layla scoffed at his words and lied flawlessly, “Of course not. That would be crazy.” 

She had been expecting exactly that, actually, but it sounded so ridiculous now that Torren said it. 

 Torren raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and Layla’s cheeks caught fire, but she said, “I don’t know. I thought it was feel different is all.” 

“Sorry dear. I happens like that sometimes. One day you wake up and you’re there. You reached a goal years in the making and not even realized it. Admittedly there’s normally a celebration of some type. I’d say you save it until after you and your friends complete your Agoge Trial.” 

At the mention of her friends, Layla flinched. “If I still have any.” She lamented. 

Torren waved a hand at her dismissively, “I think you give them to little credit. Whatever sketchy thing your Master has them doing right now, you have done as well, correct?” 

Layla nodded in affirmation. “And some.” 

“Then why would they hate you because of it. Give them a chance and maybe a little time to prove you wrong. If it does turn out for the worst then I don’t believe they were ever really friend material.” Torren asserted confidently. 

He was probably right, but Layla still felt anxious about seeing them in the morning. She remembered the confusion she had been in afterward. She supposed that they could be different. Layla had been the lab animal for the first use of the thing. Undoubtedly he would have improved the experience. 

This encounter had been a lucky one. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if someone else had found her. Layla needed to speak with one of the Masters and give her side of the story. Technically she had been the one attacked now that she was thinking about it rationally. Layla didn’t know if that mattered to the Masters, but she assumed she had the right to defend herself. Maybe she had instigated the fight, but there were no rules about words were there. People talked crap all the time. 

She’d probably still fess up, though and at some point make an apology to Mohawk. She didn’t want to be that type of person who would run roughshod over someone without reason. It was no better than Praxis had treated the people. She had to try to be better. 

Layla's stomach gave loud protest that made Torren snort with laughter. 

“Guess I messed dinner.” She said sheepishly. 

“The cafeteria is always open so you have know worries there. Menu might be different if you don’t come at the prescribed time but they should have something for you.” Torren informed her. 

Standing up, Torren stretched before saying, “Now young one as much as I have throughly enjoyed our chat. I do have responsibilities unfortunately.” 

Layla looked down to her wrist unit and balked in surprise. She had been here for hours. It hadn’t felt like that long, but now that she thought about it, her butt was a little numb from sitting. She copied Torren and stretched as well. Her joints popping ever so nicely in relief. 

“Come, I’ll see you out. Best you go out through the front this time.” 

The two walked through the small hallway and out around the counter. Torren opened the door, and Layla was halfway through it before she turned around and bowed low to the man. 

“Thank you! I can’t express enough how much this has meant to me or how much it has helped.” Layla said. Trying with all of her heart to voice how deeply she did appreciate his kindness. 

He reached down and pulled her up from the bow. “There’s no need for that young one. You needed it and this old man was more than willing to help.” 

Layla gave him a big smile before wandering off to find dinner. Then go explain herself to the Masters. 

~~~~~

Torren watched the blue hair girl walk away. The urge to grab her and disappear from this place almost over road his reason. But no, he couldn’t do that. She had already gained too much notoriety here. She had a Master as well. The Master could be dealt with, probably, but he hesitated to do something like that. His thoughts were running wild. The odds that he would be the one to find someone of the blood here of all places. They were just astronomical to the extreme. 

He needed to report this to the others. Most had already given up on the search for any of the Contriver bloodlines. The extermination had been quite thorough. A multi-planar assassination years in the making. Not all had been confirmed dead, though. There had been a chance that some still survived. 

Torren suppressed another urge to grab the girl. Consequences be damned. She walked around a corner and out of his sight before he let the notion drop. He locked the door and walked into the back of the shop. Once he made it into the room where they had talked, he began to search around the area where the girl had sat looking for something. 

His eyes began to radiate brighter and brighter as he used his gifts to scan the area. A blue line started to glow in his vision signifying that he had found what he was looking for. He reached down and plucked  up a piece of blue hair. He would need genetic proof of her identity to convince his peers to action. 

Moving to the side of the cabinet in the same room. He pushed in a hidden latch which caused the thing to pop outward. Opening the little hidden cubby’s door, he placed his hand on a blank black surface that resided within. The black surface opened, and he retrieved the modified slate that rested inside. The cubby and box were heavily warded against any and all known detection. The contents too important to be otherwise. 

Sitting back down at the table, Torren placed the slate before him. He turned it on, and a holo display of the worktop popped into his vision. A particular application hovered in front of him. The icon spinning slowly. He hesitated. It had been some time since he had spoken with the others. Was this the right thing to do? She was so protected here. 

He caved and punched a finger activating the program. The room disappeared, and Torren found himself sitting at a dark table of some unknown make. Six empty chairs sat around the table. Nothing but blackness surrounding him. It would take a few moments for their owners to get the notification. 

Torren waited in silence as the chairs began to fill one by one. All looked similar to Torren but with varying shades of neon-colored eyes and hair. They were the leaders of what was left of their order. 

A blue hair man spoke first, the leader of their group. “Well Torrenograth. Why have you called to us?”

Torren dropped the piece of hair to the table and activated the genetic scan function. The results are displayed for all to see.

No one said or did anything. They just stared at the information displayed out in front of them. Torren watched the others. Waiting for them to speak. Clearly, they were all running subroutines to prevent emotional outbursts. He had been running them since the girl had walked through his shop's door that morning.  

The blue-haired man spoke after a long time, “How old is she?” 

“She claims doesn’t know. My scan of her shows that her bones are much older. She may have spent a span under spacetime compression. The story she told alludes to something like that. Possibly a fracture slice. There are many unaccounted for.” Torren replied with a shrug. 

The man stroked his chin in thought before saying, “Are you still on Nexus?” 

Torren nodded that he was. 

“I assume there is a problem since you haven’t brought her home.” The blue hair man inquired. 

“There is a small problem. She is currently a student here at the Academy. She is also the top ranked potential slated to go through her Agoge Trial in the next month.” He threw up a hand as though he wasn’t sure what to do. “Part of me wants to take her now but I believe she is to visible at the moment.” He went on to explain the scholarship and Master's situation as well. 

No one seemed to like the circumstance from what Torren could tell but there was nothing that could be done at the moment. It was challenging to read their kind. They were more tech than human when it came to the central nervous system. They had the ability to control all their bodily function. The outside world knew them as Androids. Part machine, part organic. It was much more complicated than they would ever know.  

“Continue to develop a relationship with her and win her trust. Then observed and protect her from the shadows. We would send you more help but we can’t risk coming inside the wall of the Academy without drawing attention. And find out who her master is. Report back periodically.” said the blue-haired man. The orders were delivered flatly without emotion. Torren knew otherwise. The microscopic movements of his kin screamed to him of the excitement. 

Torren waited to see if anyone had anything else to say before he stated. 

“With my life.” 

“With my life,” the group replied back, ending the meeting. 

The Roesue once more had a purpose. Torren had a purpose. 

“With my life, I am thy shield, With my life, I do thee protect.” He spoke the ancient oath of his order quietly for the first time in thousands of years.