Chapter IX (Part I)

The smell of gym and leather felt oddly nostalgic despite never having really spent much time around either. I had decided a workout would keep my mind distracted from the day's events and needed something to do while the boys slept. Jet had joked that Mania wouldn't come out till night and suggested that we all relax till then. I enjoyed surprising him by demanding he let me use one of his gyms. Jess, never to be shown up athletically by me, was happy to keep me company for a workout.

The smell of leather was the old heavy bag in front of me, my hands stinging the bag with weak thuds, more effective at straining my wrists than moving the 70kg bag noticeably. I didn't care. I continued striking the bag dully, Jess watching with an amused smirk as if I had totally lost my mind. Catching the reflection of my reddened face in the mirror, I had to agree. After my hands transitioned from simply throbbing to utterly numb, I stopped, again catching my reflection, this time of the possessed scowl I wore, and couldn't help but laugh with her.

"Okay Jess, your turn."

What she lacked in scowling and crazy, she made up for in athleticism and skill, her punches driving the bag visibly with each impact. I need less athletic people in my life. Still, despite her skill, and my total lack of it, I think the bagwork gave us both the same cathartic release.

I had watched Jet train down here many times before mustering the courage to ask him to show me how to use the heavy bags. Jet explained that they taught you how to strike with follow through, that they demonstrated the feeling of striking a real opponent. He preferred a heavier bag than this one, but the bag he liked scratched up my bare hands too much. I liked this smooth, scarred leather one.

Jet showed me how to make a fist by folding first at the fingers, how to halfway lock one's wrists, how to keep my eyes forward, and how to strike the middle of the bag, always just below shoulder height. I laughed at this last instruction, "But don't you sometimes want to strike at other heights?"

He had laughed, "Not if it has this much resistance, you're strongest at that height. And you won't get injured."

Not that I was terribly interested in striking real live targets. Being able to defend myself would be nice, but no amount of training was ever going to save me from the Mania's and Crow's of the world. Or probably any of those other names from today...

Donovan Cross. Of Cross Industry. Alex's father had worked for that boy's father. Donovan had also lost his father. That night in October, while Mania slaughtered a houseful of police officers, terrorists had attacked the Cross headquarters across town. Part of me assumed Mania was involved in that, but --

Jess, huffing and out of breath, "You're back up."

I began again with renewed focus, only pausing to blow a stray lock of hair from my eyes, continuing until totally exhausted.

Why not ask Donovan what he knows?

Because he's creepy. Because even Mania seems afraid of him. Because he is one of the mentioned names.

My eyes flashed to the doorway catching a hint of movement. Jet framed the entrance in dark jeans and layers of gauze thin knits, his physique hidden but subtly still present beneath the layered folds. His hands absently fingered a large pair of headphones. He spoke, solemn in tone, but his grinning eyes betrayed him, and revealed his excitement, "Gonna head out soon."

"Jet"

"Hmn?"

"What do you think about maybe contacting that Donovan guy?"

Jet shrugged, "Whatever. The brother, right?"

Jess chimed in, "You trust that guy?"

"Not really, but he was mentioned too." That wasn't really all that I meant. "I don't know. I get the feeling he'd know something."

Jet, now struggling to untangle a cord he had fished from his pocket, distractedly replied, "Maybe we should split up. Alex can talk to this Cross guy."

"I thought Alex was going with you."

"Nah, Mania hates Lex."

So? "Yeah, doesn't she hate you too?"

Jet grinned. "Probably, but, she might listen to me. At least for a little while."

Mania had rammed a knife through Jet's hands last they met. Jet replied by sticking that knife between her ribs. I couldn't really picture the two having much of a conversation.

My tone accusatory, "You are going to try talking to her about today, right? Not just fight?"

Jet's sheepish grin and hand in his hair gave him up instantly.

"Jet!"

"Fine!" he sulked.

Jess rolled her eyes thoroughly unimpressed by my idiot boyfriend's, well, idiocy. She turned to ask me something but I was fixated on watching Jet use the long cord to tie knot after knot, securing the gigantic earphones to his head. His voice, now inapproriately loud drowned out Jess, "Allie, come with, make sure I don't fight."

"What about Alex and Jess?"

"WHAT?"

Jess scowled, I inwardly smiled, and nodded. It would be amazing if we survived this night.