Date: Wed, 28 Jul 2010 00:39:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Smith <faretheeforeverwell@yahoo.com>
Subject: Freshman Fifteen - 3

Lorenzo Masters has a dream--to be the first person in his family to
graduate from college. At fifteen, he is already well on his way with a
full ride academic scholarship to Clearwater University, but little does
the freshman know he is about to get an education in life, love, and
growing up. Morgan Everett on the other hand takes his academics very
lightly, as do the other guys of House Orison, but everything changes when
they find themselves the unexpected caretakers of an adorable and
impressionable Lore. From mentorship to romance, each member of House
Orison finds a way to deal with their newfound freshman fifteen.
     Lore has gathered his squad together, but before they can join House
Orison's sixth squad, each of them has to pass a trial by combat. This goes
for Lore as well, but when he finds out who he will be facing Lore suddenly
feels conflicted. As a slow creeping doom overshadows Lore's normally
cheerful disposition, a sudden rainstorm and the resulting illness casts
Lore into a world of his own doubts and fears. A light is cast on Lore's
past and the greatest fear he holds in his heart is revealed in this new
exciting installment of Freshman Fifteen!?

DISCLAIMER

The following story is completely fictitious and any resemblances to
persons living or dead are entirely coincidental. Just as in life, this
story contains graphic scenes of love and hate, life and death, joy and
sorrow, as well as sexually explicit scenes which may involve minors. If it
is unlawful for you to view such media, or such material makes you feel
uncomfortable, then please read no further than this warning.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I would appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer me, but
anything that lacks any form of redirection or remedy will be
ignored. Also, anyone commenting on how I need to make things hotter and
steamier between certain characters will be equally ignored. The sexual
content of my stories, while present, does not make up the majority of the
storytelling. Send legitimate questions or comments to:
faretheeforeverwell@yahoo.com.

FRESHMAN FIFTEEN!? -- EPISODE THREE

The group of novitiates faced towards the burning pyre as they were
directed by those "who have come before" and, except for a brief fit of
coughing from Whit Riley as the smoke from the billowing fire founds his
face in the darkness of night, the cool air echoed only the crackling
flames. Each of the five initiates had passed a series of sacred rites,
some more readily than others, but now at the end of the ceremony they
would find out if they would be accepted into the full confidence of House
Orison.
     Lore Masters looked around nervously at his gathered candidates as he
stood with them, having had to pass all the same trials as they. Obviously
Whit Riley, the ten year old patrol captain assistant would be here, but he
was surprised the other three said yes. To Lore's left stood the tall and
beautiful Melody King, a sassy yet nurturing sophomore Lore worked with at
the Clearwater campus store, and while she openly detested Warren Wallace
she had agreed to help Lore mostly out of spite to the cowboy who had
proclaimed she "couldn't cut it." To Lore's right was Brian Evers, a
freshman who didn't seem to standout too much, but Lore had become fast
friends with him during their shared Bio 1 class since they were assigned
lab partners. Brooding quietly behind Lore--as if a pouting child--was Cole
Greenberg, whom despite his outward appearances had actually enjoyed
himself during the evening.
     "You, who are gathered here, have come freely and of your own will,"
Morgan began from beneath the cowl of his ceremonial frock, "to support and
aid Lorenzo Masters who, like you, has been found worthy this night to
advance to the next phase of this journey. You were tested to see if you
possessed the qualities of teamwork, ingenuity, and dedication. You were
all, surprisingly, found not wanting in these qualities."
     Morgan directed his last remark subtlety towards Cole Greenberg as the
freshman adjusted his stance nervously.
     "But your journey does not end here." Ian added as he picked up in the
script where Morgan left off. "It is not enough to be dedicated to
protecting others; you must also be capable of acting in defense of those
who cannot defend themselves. This has been House Orison's sacred duty
since it was founded, and in the coming week you will prove your resolve to
House Orison with a trial by combat against the five patrol captains
standing before you."
     The collective group of initiates turned their heads to glare at Lore.
     "Now, before you turn on Lore," Ian quickly added, "remember that he
had no knowledge of this trial, and he himself will have to endure a trial
by combat. Furthermore, each of you will be paired with a patrol captain
for the upcoming week, and will be given one-on-one training in the arts of
self... defense... House Orison acknowledges initiate Riley who can please
stop waving his hand."
     Riley put his hand down.
     "Do we get to choose who we get to be buddies with?" the boy asked as
he eagerly looked to his coach, Chase Dunn, who was silently rubbing his
temples through his cowl.
     "I don't see why not." Morgan said slyly. "Let me see, Riley you
probably want to be paired with Chase, right?"
     "Yeah!" the boy said almost forgetting everything he had been told
about maintaining the sanctity of the ceremony. "I mean, yes please."
     "That sounds fair to me." Morgan said as Chase gave him a disbelieving
look, "Initiate Melody, who would you like...?"
     "Anyone but Warren Wallace." Melody said without hesitation.
     "Alright, you will be paired with Artisan than." Morgan replied as he
looked around the circle. "Initiate Brian, if you don't mind I am going to
pair you with Ian, and Initiate Cole will be pared with Warren. That, of
course, means Lore will be paired with me. Does that sound agreeable to
everybody?"
     The gathered group looked around at their partner and no one
complained openly. Riley and Lore, were of course, happy with the choices
made while Cole was a bit less enthused.
     "Good." Morgan confirmed. "Now that everybody knows who they will be
fighting at the end of the week, I will announce who each of the initiates
will be training with."
     Both Riley and Lore's jaws dropped.
     "Riley, you will be training with Artisan this week in preparation for
fighting Chase." Morgan declared as the stoic swordsman almost lost his
composure. The young boy was rendered mute, for once.
     "Melody, since you have chosen to fight `anyone BUT Warren Wallace,'
you will train with Warren this week in preparation for fighting Artisan."
Morgan continued as he received a dagger-like glare from the sophomore
which was only half as deadly as the look the smiling Warren Wallace
received.
     "Brian, you will be training with Chase this week in preparation for
fighting Ian, and Lore will train with Ian in preparation for fighting me."
Morgan wrapped up as he tried to ignore Lore's hurt expression. "This, of
course, means Cole will train with me in preparation for his fight against
Warren. This decision is final and in one week, each of you will endure a
trial by combat with your designated opponent. Train well, and may you all
do House Orison proud."
     With a wave of his hand, he ordered the other four patrol captains to
douse the fire with buckets of water and the entire group was plunged into
darkness. As the group quietly dispersed, Morgan knew almost everyone
involved in the ceremony, including a few of the other patrol captains,
hated him for his choices, but he had a plan and he knew he had made the
right choices. He only hoped the others would see the trial through to the
end and discover the reasons why.

"I'm so sorry." Lore tried to apologize again as Cole continued to sweep
the floor of the campus store ignoring his pleas for forgiveness. This had
been going on for the last ten minutes and the younger teen was near
tears. Finally, Cole stopped and turned to face Lore.
     "You're `sorry?'" Cole repeated. "Thanks to you, not only do I have to
fight my boss at the end of the week, but the only way I will have a chance
of beating him without getting my ass totally kicked is if I get training
from the one person in House Orison that probably hates my guts more than
Warren Wallace! My life is just fucking dandy, Lore, what is there to be
sorry about?"
     The sarcasm was not lost on Lore Masters.
     "You think you have it bad?" Melody said as she read the paper while
`working.' "I have to train with the man. At least at the end of the week
you get a free chance to knock his lights out. I'd give my left boob for
the chance to kick Warren Wallace square in the... well... you know."
     Both Cole and Lore looked dumbfounded at the Latina clerk.
     "Sorry," she apologized, "he just really gets under my skin, like some
sort of itching, biting, insect I just want to poison to death. At least
the break from work will be nice."
     "What do you mean?" Lore asked.
     "You didn't hear?" Cole asked. "After this weekend, Warren is covering
our shifts so we can train after classes with our `buddies.' He even said
he would count my training against my community service, so I guess there
is a bit of a bright side, if you can call it that."
     "You mean you guys are still going to go through with it?" Lore asked
as he got a hopeful look in his eyes.
     "Don't read too much into it," Cole said as he continued to sweep.
     Cole silently felt bad for Lore, knowing the kid had to go up against
Morgan at the end of the week. It had to suck for Lore, knowing he had to
fight one of his best friends and mentors, but he figured Lore would be
okay.
     "Melody," Lore asked tentatively, "would it be alright if I picked up
your shift tomorrow? I sort of want to get some more hours in before the
end of the pay period if I am going to be training instead of working."
     "I don't mind," Melody said returning to her newspaper, "so long as
you don't mind a double."
     "I don't mind working a double." Lore replied as he mentally tried to
calculate just how long he could keep himself from having to face
Morgan. Ever since the night before, he had felt conflicted and he just
didn't understand why Morgan would make him fight him.

"You don't understand, Morgan, he is an animal, barely capable of
cognoscente thought. He lacks any form of discipline and his wanton
destruction of property is without honor!" Artisan pleaded as he attempted
to persuade the 1st squad patrol captain to reconsider his decision to make
the swordsman train Whit Riley for his trail by combat.
     "You know, I'm right here." Riley said as he sat peacefully on a chair
playing Game Boy.
     "You see!" Artisan exclaimed uncharacteristically as he gestured
towards the boy, "His disregard for proper social edict knows no bounds!"
     "I can see that." Morgan said as his stare shifted from Artisan to
Riley and back again. "You are still teaching him self defense. I told you,
the decision is final. I've got to head out to the Library for a while, so
you guys hold down the fort. In fact, Art, you might as well begin Riley's
training right now."
     With that, Morgan made his way to the door and out of House
Orison. His one hope of escaping his fate gone, Artisan slowly turned to
face his pint-sized doom.

Lore Masters seemed to have a cloud hanging over his head all day while he
worked the double-shift. He kept thinking about his eventual fight against
Morgan. Morgan had to know how pitting Lore against him would make him
feel, especially since he knew how much Lore loved him. He had wanted to
talk to him yesterday night, but Morgan hadn't gotten back from the library
until after Lore had fallen asleep, so there was no chance to talk with him
before Lore had to race to the campus store in the morning to start his
double shift.
     "Maybe that's it," Lore thought out loud to himself while no one was
around, "maybe he is trying to put something between us so I won't like him
like that anymore. Maybe he doesn't like me after all and just couldn't
tell me face to face."
     Lore over analyzed the reasons why Morgan would force him to fight
him, but nothing made sense; none of it seemed like something the Morgan he
knew and loved would do. As his confliction steadily built he felt a little
sick to his stomach. He knew everyone else was pushing forward, even though
they didn't want to fight or train with the people they were assigned to,
so it wouldn't be fair for Lore to give up or quit. He had to fight Morgan.
     "Okay, pup," Warren said as he entered the store as early evening
began creeping closer, "go skedaddle. I suppose I've kept ya here long
enough and seeing as ya look miserable and I'm miserable because y'all
decided to pull Melody's double, we can both be unhappy... but at the
places that make us happiest. Go home, get some rest, and
remember... tomorrow starts y'all training with Ian."
     "I know." Lore said with a defeated tone in his voice.
     "What's the matter?" Warren asked a little confused. "I thought ya
liked Ian."
     "I do," Lore replied, "it's just... never mind. Night Warren."
     "Night, partner." Warren replied as he picked up a discarded paper by
the register and began flipping through it.
     As Lore walked home the inner turmoil seemed to be manifested in the
dark brooding clouds that hung silently overhead until, like a great flood
gate opening, the heavens poured down sheets of cold rain on the depressed
child below. Lore stopped and looked up at the heavens, as if in silent
question as to why the fates had conspired against him. With no forthcoming
reply, Lore continued to walk onward in the rain, still a good five minutes
away from House Orison and the warmth and safety found within.

"What's a gee, coach Artisan?" Riley asked as he pulled at the cloth of the
unfamiliar outfit he was forced to adorn. He was sitting Indian-style, like
Artisan, on the floor of Artisan sparse room which looked like it was
pulled out of a kendo enthusiast magazine. The walls were lined with bamboo
patterned wallpaper and aside from a mat to sleep on, a sword stand, and a
few minor items the room was bare.
     "Firstly, you will address me as sempai, not `coach Artisan.'
Secondly, it is pronounced `gi,' and it is what you are wearing." The
swordsman continued. "It is a training outfit you will wear while we train
for your trial by combat. While I am reluctant to teach you any of the
deadly arts I have learned, I must prepare you for your trial, less I
dishonor myself through your failure. Remember, Riley-bozu, when you fight
with honor, you honor yourself, you honor your opponent, and you honor your
sempai."
     "Bozu?" Riley asked as he tried out the new word.
     "It means stupid, insolent, child... or at least that is what I am
going to tell you it means." Artisan continued as he remained stoic in his
discipline. "Riley-bozu, we will begin our training with a psychic dual, a
battle of wills. As your teacher and superior, the battle will easily be
won by me, but I ask that you honor yourself as well as your sempai by
attempting to maintain eye contact with me as long as you dare. Having
introduced ourselves, the battle has begun!"
     Artisan locked eyes with Riley who found he was mimicking his
teacher's actions, sitting perfectly still and locking eyes. Neither one
moved, less their concentration be broken and the dual lost. As the
struggle of wills began, Artisan was confident Riley would break contact
first, while a defiant Riley refused to run laps, as he knew he would have
to if he failed the staring contest.


"Hey, Ian," Chase said as he poked his head into the kitchen, "you totally
got to check this out. Riley and Artisan are just staring at each
other. It's been going on for like ten minutes now."
     "That's nice," Ian replied as he looked worried out the window at the
pouring rain. It had really started to come down hard and the wind was
blowing too. He had seen Warren leave about a half-hour ago to go relieve
Lore at the campus store and he thought Lore should have been home by
now. He hoped Lore didn't get caught in this nasty weather, but he thought
the boy would probably have the good sense to see the dark clouds and wait
it out at the campus store with Warren.
     The sound of the door opening was met with the squeaking of wet shoes
and the squishing sound of water soaked socks.
     "Jesus, Lore," Chase said as he quickly moved over to the boy, "you're
soaking wet."
     Even from the kitchen, Ian could see the gangly teen shivering; his
light frame providing little to no protection against the cold of the rain
outside. As he came closer he could see all was not right with Lore, he was
shaking and clearly a little out of it.
     "Chase, go get some towels," Ian ordered, "get a warm bath running,
not a shower, but a bath and let's get Lore upstairs and out of these cold
things."
     Even before Chase made it up the stairs, Ian was already stripping
Lore out of his shirt and dropping it with a heavy sloppy flop on the
floor. He could see Lore's undershirt was pasted to his delicate frame, the
almost transparent material quivering as Lore shivered.. He quickly removed
that as well, and getting the idea, Lore slowly got out of his shoes and
socks, discarding them at the door. As Ian grabbed his arm to guide him to
the stairs he could feel the boy quaking to which Lore chattered a weak
`sorry.'
     "Don't be sorry," Ian said calmly as he continued to assist the boy,
"just follow me upstairs and we will get you all warmed up. I promise."
     With a little difficulty, Ian was able to get Lore upstairs and to the
bathroom where Chase was already preparing a warm bath for the boy. As the
water continued to pour, Ian began to unfasten Lore's belt to which the boy
put up no fight. With a little effort, Ian and Lore were able to get his
weighted pants off and with a slight moment of hesitation met with an okay
nod by Lore, Ian removed Lore's boxers as well. Completely exposed in front
of Ian and Chase, wet, shivering, and sick, Lore Masters allowed his two
housemates to assist him into the water which felt like it was scorching
hot.
     As he eased into the water and finally settled, Ian made sure Lore was
okay and not in danger of slipping under the water. The boy just closed his
eyes and tried to absorb as much heat into his damaged body as
possible. Ian leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Lore's forehead and
even without brushing back his mop of soaked blond hair, Ian knew Lore was
starting a fever.
     "Chase," Ian said as he stood up from the side of the tub, "you stay
with Lore and make sure he is alright, let him warm up nice and good and
then we will help him out and dry him off. I am going to go downstairs and
clean up his clothes and fix him some soup. We will get him into some dry
clothes, get him some soup, and then right to bed. I have some extra
blankets in the hall closet we can use, too."
     "Yes, mommy," Chase said without hint of sarcasm.
     After all, mother knows best.

The sound of rain pelting the small window above Morgan in the darkened
room was cadenced with the heavy breathing of the teen on the floor in
front of him. The angry teen had exhausted almost everything he had when he
had lunged at Morgan and the quick jab he had received for lowering his
defense had caused Cole Greenberg to collapse to the ground once
again. Morgan waited patiently for him to regain his breath.
     "Again." The house captain ordered after Cole had a few more moments
rest.
     "Is... is this... going to be... like yester... day?" Cole asked
between staggered breaths.
     The night before, Cole had met Morgan, like now, in the basement of
the Library Café to get a `jump' on his training. The café owner seemed to
know Morgan and was allowing him to train Cole in the musky confines of the
basement while college kids and other patrons grace the café above
them. The heavy cellar door of the basement seemed to muffle most of the
noise, and Cole realized too late there would be no one to hear him scream
or yell for help if Morgan decided to kill him. Still, the teen had
returned for a second `lesson.'
     "That is up to you." Morgan replied as he adjusted his stance. "Just
tell me what I want to know and we can stop this."
     Cole raised himself up, clutching his side where he thought he must
have a bruised rib. He glared at the patrol captain daringly.
     "That's what I thought." Morgan replied as he readied himself,
"Again."
     Cole sprang forth and threw a punch as hard as he could at Morgan,
only to find his fist passing through air as the patrol captain swept the
teen's feet out from under him. Landing with a hard thud on the concrete
floor of the basement, Cole Greenberg saw stars when his head slammed
against the floor. As he looked up, dazed, Morgan knelt down beside him,
his aggressive demeanor gone. He seemed to be regarding the teen.
     "All you have to do is tell me," Morgan calmly told Cole, "hell, you
could even lie to me and I might not even know, but so long as you remain
silent we will go again and again until you break."
     Morgan was interrupted by the cellar door opening and the owner, Pat,
coming down with Morgan's phone in his hand. When the owner saw the
condition of Morgan's pupil on the floor he didn't give it a second
thought.
     "Morgan, your phone has been ringing off the hook for the last ten
minutes." Pat explained. "It's Ian."

Morgan quietly shut the door to Lore's room, leaving the door cracked just
a little bit to let some light into the otherwise dark room. Ian had
already gotten Riley settled upstairs into the observatory, where the boy
was going to be bunking for the duration of his stay, and Artisan had left
for his patrol. With Warren still at the store doing inventory before the
start of the weekdays, Morgan walked a ways down the hall to where Chase
and Ian were waiting for him.
     "He looks like crap." Chase offered.
     "He probably feels like crap," Ian replied, "and the rain and fever
aren't helping."
     Morgan picked up on the subtle clue.
     "You're saying I made him like this." Morgan said neither questioning
nor admitting.
     "Well, if you weren't so busy beating Cole up at the Library, maybe
you would have noticed how bummed he's been since he found out he had to
fight you for his trial by combat." Chase accused the house captain, "Sir."
     "Yeah, I know." Morgan replied. "I really haven't had the courage to
face him after I saw that look in his eyes the other night at the
bonfire. It was so sad it was heartbreaking."
     "Hey, I know." Chase offered sarcastically as if the idea had suddenly
popped into his head. "How about you don't have Lore fight you? Hell, he
can fight me, and I promise not to hurt him."
     "No." Morgan answered sternly. "Lore still has to fight me; that
hasn't changed."
     Chase Dunn through his hands up in the air, his amber eyes flaring.
     "I don't get it!" Chase almost yelled before changing to a harsh
hush. "It is no secret he likes you, Morgan, and from what I can tell you
like him too, a lot. If this is some sort of posturing exercise to keep
people from finding that out than you need to call it the fuck off. I don't
give a flying Frisbee if you and Lore are all hot and heavy over each
other. Honestly, I don't! But when I see how hurt and confused that kid in
there is, it makes me want to do everything and anything in my power to
make him feel better and let him know everything is going to be okay. I
just don't get how you can't."
     Chase ran his hands in frustration through his short brown hair,
disheveling it.
     "Look," he said in a much more collected tone, "just tell me there is
a reason, a good ass reason, you are doing this. You don't even have to
tell me what the reason is, just tell me there is a good reason and I will
leave it be because I know you can't be doing this just to hurt that kid."
     Morgan took Chase gently by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
     "There is a reason," Morgan promised, "a `good ass' reason. If I
thought there was a better way, you know I would, and there are easier
ways, Chase, there are always easier ways, but there are some lessons that
need to be learned here, and they can only be learned the hard way. I will
not let Lore struggle in vain and he is not suffering alone, just please,
trust me."
     "I trust you, Morgan." Chase replied a little taken back by the
sincere touch of his house captain.
     "I do too." Ian added, more to reassure Morgan than to express his own
feelings.
     "Thank you," Morgan said as he released Chase, "both of you."
     As Morgan looked back towards the door to Lore's room, he couldn't
help but feel a pang of guilt at what he was putting the boy through.

Lore smiled as he lay peaceful on his and his mother's hill, the warm
breeze washing over his exposed face, arms, and legs. The chirping of birds
playing in the trees, the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, and even
the sound of thunder way off in the distance put Lore's mind at ease. The
smell of rain was in the air and all around him, but he knew the storm was
far away. Then, suddenly, the crash of nearby thunder echoed through his
peaceful glade and he opened his eyes to see the storm here sooner than he
expected. Getting to his feet quickly, he ran towards home as fast as he
could with the sound of raindrops falling behind him.
     It seemed like the harder he ran the faster the raindrops fell and
soon they would catch up with him and force him to fight Morgan! If he
could only outrun the raindrops he wouldn't have to fight Morgan. As trees
flew past him faster than he could see he saw his home, a huge log cabin
that had been in the Masters' family for generations. He ran to the door of
his home and fished into his pocket, but he had forgotten his key and
couldn't go home anymore. As he turned around, his back braced to the door,
he saw the wave of raindrops coming closer and closer. At the last moment
he leaned back and the door fell open and he tumbled into the cabin before
the door slammed shut, locking out the rain.
     It was warm in the cabin, much warmer than he remembered, and much
bigger too. The family cabin was huge compared to other cabins, almost a
mansion but simple and efficient. Lore saw a fire in the fireplace and as
he looked at it he felt the heat radiating off of the flames. It was a
noise in the kitchen that drew his attention away from the mesmerizing
flames. It was pots and pans banging together, some rustling, familiar
sounds of Nana working in the kitchen.
     As Lore went to investigate he could see a figure with their back
turned to him, but instead of the plump figure of his grandmother, it was
an unfamiliar figure. As the figure stood up and turned around he saw it
was a man. The man looked familiar with a gangly frame and plain features,
his blond hair cut short and well maintained, but it was his crystal clear
blue eyes and their cold stare that unnerved Lore.
     "Hello, sport." The man grinned.
     Lore swallowed hard as a conflicted emotion slowly began to overwhelm
him.
     "Where is Nana?" the boy asked with a tremor in his voice.
     "She isn't here," the man said nonchalantly as he continued to rifle
around in the kitchen looking for something, "so I made myself at home."
     "You can't be here." Lore almost spat as he felt the anger and the
fear.
     "Really?" the man asked unimpressed. "What are you going to do about
it, sport? What can you do about it? Go to college, get an education, find
yourself, save this land? How can you save this house when you can't even
fight Morgan? If you can't even fight Morgan, how can you even fight me?"
     "Shut up!" Lore yelled at the intruder.
     "Why?" the man asked as his rummaging led him into the
refrigerator. "Gail isn't here to fight your battles for you anymore, is
she?"
    "Shut up!" Lore cried. "Her name is MOMMY!"
     "No," the man said as he knelt down to look five year old Lore in the
eyes, "her name is Gail."
     "No!" Lore shouted back as he hit the stranger as hard as his little
fist could. "YOU AREN'T MY DADDY! I HATE YOU!"
     Lore opened his eyes and he could see the look on the man's face, that
terrible unforgettable look of a man whose entire life had been shattered
by the words of his five year old son, and before Lore could say he was
sorry or take back his words the man disappeared. Lore was alone and he
felt like his heart was tearing in two.

Morgan just looked from his chair into the darkness of Lore's room to the
form of the youth in his bed. He hadn't been able to sleep and had moved
himself into the teen's room to watch him and make sure he was okay. Lore
had been having a nightmare; he had been yelling but he couldn't make out
the words and now he was just sobbing. Morgan had thought to go and wake
Lore up from his pained slumber, but Ian had told him Lore needed to work
the fever out of his system.
     "I'm sorry, Lore." Morgan said as he spoke quietly to the youth. "I'm
sorry I put you through all of this, made you think I didn't like you, made
you think I feel anything for you other than the love I do. I promise you
though, after this is all over, you won't be afraid anymore."
     Morgan got up from his seat on the chair and made his way quietly to
the door. As he turned around looking back into the room once more he
paused.
     "I promise, Lore," Morgan echoed, "you won't be afraid of yourself
anymore."

All the next day everyone at House Orison was walking on tiptoes. With
Cole's help, Ian was able to get all of Lore's missed assignment and was
able to explain to his teachers that he might be out for another day or so,
depending on how long he was ill. Securing study notes form a number of
adoring female supporters, Ian was confident that when Lore did come back
around he would have no trouble catching up with his schoolwork. Between
Chase and Morgan, Lore was never more than a mumble away, and while the boy
was mostly out of it, they had managed to keep him pumped full of
fluids. Even the normally rambunctious Riley was behaving himself, coming
right home from school to watch Lore rest for a few moments before
reporting to Artisan for training.
     "You want me to go spy on Chase?" Riley asked, hardly believing the
swordsman would approve of such a thing.
     "No, Riley," Artisan clarified, "I want you to go observe Chase as he
trains his student. You will be facing your mentor during your trial by
combat and so to know one's self and one's enemy is to secure victory in
every battle."
     "I'm not allowed, though," Riley explained with a blush, "My mom
caught me knowing myself once and said it was dirty."
     The swordsman gave out an exasperated sigh.

The group of students gathered in the gym could hardly believe the
spectacle they were bearing witness to. As the two figures, collapsed on
the ground, breathed heavy from mental and physical exertion Melody King
began to slowly rise to her feet. With a trembling stance she regained her
footing before another series of electric jolts brought her back down to
the ground. Warren Wallace, with a smug look on his pained face didn't seem
to have the strength to stand himself, but that hadn't stopped him from
sending another volley of electrical currents into his student's body.
     "Lesson... five..." Warren said carefully into the darkness, his
vision pained and blurred from the pepper spray Melody had used on him a
few minutes ago, "always remove the electrodes."
     "You... smug... bastard..." Melody quipped back. "I
should... have... used... the bear... mace...first..."
     "Bear mace?" Warren asked with a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

"Hey, Riley," Ian greeted the youth as he continued to chop up vegetables
in preparation for dinner, "did you find Chase and Brian?"
     The boy had returned from his walk to the baseball diamond where Chase
was training Brian Evers for his trial by combat earlier than expected. Ian
hoped Riley's visit hadn't interrupted their training, but he knew how much
the boy looked up to Chase as both a coach and a big brother figure.
     "Yup." Riley replied uncommitted as he opened the fridge and began
looking for a snack. "I found them."
     "Were Chase and Brian training hard?" Ian asked as he made small-talk
with Riley while pulling a chilled juice-box out of the freezer above the
boy and handed it to the grateful youth.
     "Oh, they were training hard alright," Riley smirked as he walked away
with frozen juice box in hand, "they were training awful hard."
     Riley opened the frozen treat Ian had given him and walked without
fear into Artisan's room where the swordsman was meditating peacefully. As
the boy plopped down across from his sempai, he began sucking on the
popsicle-like snack, slurping up the juices loudly as he watched the vein
on his mentor's forehead get bigger and bigger. Riley had to hand it to his
new coach, he put up with a lot more than Chase did before yelling at him.
     "Riley-bozu!" Artisan called from across the room as his meditation
was interrupted by the sound of the youth gnawed on what remained of his
frozen juice-box. "Have you returned from observing your mentor training
his pupil?"
     "Yeah," Riley replied, "but I ain't never seen any training like that
before."
     "Well, I hope you observed well," Artisan retorted as he rose from his
sitting position, "because we are going to train in the same fashion as
your mentor in order to better understand his fighting style and thus his
weakness. By observing and understanding your opponent, you can overcome
any advantage they might possess."
     "Do we gotta, sempa?" Riley whined. "I mean, JUST like Brian and coach
Chase?"
     "It's `sempai,'" Artisan corrected the youth, "and yes. We have to
practice EXACTLY like your mentor and his pupil."
     Riley let out a loud sigh.
     "Riley," Artisan questioned sternly, "do you want to defeat Chase
during your trial by combat?"
     "Yes, sempai." Riley replied unenthusiastically.
     "Do you want to be patrol captain assistant for squad six?" Artisan
questioned again.
     "Yes, sempai." Riley replied in mono-tone knowing what the swordsman
was driving at.
     "Then we will practice EXACTLY like Brian and Chase." Artisan
affirmed. "Now, prepare yourself."
     Artisan turned around to set his personal effects on his dresser and
when he turned back around he was surprised to see Riley without his shirt
on. The boy's form was still that of a small child, but he carried a bit of
tone in his frame that showed he was developing nicely as an athlete.
     "Riley-bozu, Chase's pupil was shirtless?" Artisan asked a little
confused.
     "Yeah," Riley said nonchalantly, "Coach Chase was shirtless too."
     "I see," Artisan replied as he took off his shirt as well. "I suppose
he and his pupil had been training very hard all afternoon."
     "They musta been," Riley said as he pretended to clean out his ear
while sneaking a glance at the swordsman's lithe and athletic body, "they
were all sweaty and tired looking, like they had been doing it for a
while."
     "You see, Riley-bozu, your mentor and his pupil are willing to put in
hard work and discipline to achieve their goals." Artisan affirmed. "Now,
how were they positioned?"
     "Umm, Chase was on top of Brian," Riley said as he remembered back to
when he saw them in the dugout training, "and it looked like they were
wrestling. Chase had Brian pinned and it looked like Brian was trying to
get out of the pin by rocking back and forth. I couldn't see everything
because I was being sneaky like you told me to, sempai, but I think I got
most of it remembered."
     "Hmm," Artisan said as he began to analyze what Riley was telling him,
"They must be working on some sort of grappling technique. Not a surprising
move since his pupil is slated to face Ian during his trial. I suppose I
will be able to get a better understanding of how to instruct you if you
show me exactly what they did."
     "Exactly?" Riley nervously whined a little unsure as he remembered
back to how he saw Chase and Brian training.
     "EXACTLY." Artisan commanded the youth.
     Once more Riley signed; he just hoped he had as much fun with Artisan
as Chase looked like he was having with Brian. The boy approached his
mentor while unbuttoning his boyish shorts and undoing the zipper as the
normally stoic swordsman's eyes showed their first signs of true fear.

Ian had just finished chopping up the last of the carrots when he heard a
loud yelp from Artisan's room and an even louder crashing sound. As a burst
of angry shouting almost immediately followed from both Artisan and Riley,
Ian quickly moved to the doorway of Artisan's room to see what was going
on. What greeted him was a sight to behold.
     "You just don't touch your sempai there, do you understand!?" A
shirtless and red-faced Artisan shouted angrily at the youth.
     "But you told me to do it EXACTLY like I saw!" an equally shirtless
Riley shouted back in tears with his shorts half undone.
     "Keep it down you two," Ian hushed forcefully, "Lore is trying to rest
upstairs. Now exactly what is all the fuss about?"
     "He grabbed my... he stroked..." Artisan couldn't get it out he was so
red in the face. "He touched an area that is off limits."
     "Coach Artisan said if I wanted to pass my trial I had to!" Riley
balled.
     "I said no such thing!" Artisan shouted back in disbelief.
     "Artisan!" Ian gasped as he immediately went to Riley's side to
comfort the youth while fixing his shorts, "How could you even think of
trying to have your way with this impressionable little angel?"
     "I didn't!" Artisan pleaded his case with Ian in overprotective mommy
mode. "I just told him we needed to practice exactly like Riley saw when he
went to observe Chase and Brian training!"
     "And I did, but you didn't want me..." Riley cried as he turned into
Ian's embrace and just sobbed, rejected by his sempai.
     Both men absorbed Riley's words over the course of a few moments.
     "Oh, boy." Ian and Artisan said in unison as their eyes met.
     It appeared as if Chase had some explaining to do.

After the confrontation with Artisan and Riley, Ian made his way upstairs
to check on Lore. The redhead knocked lightly on the door to Lore's room
and found the youth awake, but just staring at the ceiling. Lore seemed to
be thinking deeply and Ian didn't know if he had heard him knock.
     "Lore," Ian asked tentatively, "is it okay if I come in?"
     The house's resident mommy sensed something was troubling Lore.
     "Yeah," Lore said without looking at Ian.
     "How you feeling?" he asked as he came closer and sat on the edge of
the youth's bed, causing it to sink a bit. "You need anything? Water? Maybe
something to eat?"
     "I think," Lore said as he looked to Ian with needful eyes, "I need a
hug."
     Lore sat up in his bed and pulled his legs to his chest as he hid the
bottom of his face in his sheet-covered knees. Ian responded naturally by
drawing the boy closer and wrapping a gentle and protective arm around his
bare shoulders.
     "You want to talk about it?" Ian asked tentatively.
     Lore was silent for a moment, but then he spoke.
     "I was five when I met my dad for the first time." Lore explained as
he hugged his legs to his chest. "I had been out playing with my mom on our
hill. When we got back to the house there was a strange car there and my
mom told me it was alright. She led me into the house, to the kitchen,
where a man I had never seen before was sitting with my grandmother. He had
the same eyes as me, the same hair as my mother, and even back then I knew
he was my dad, but..."
     Lore took a deep breath as Ian comforted him and held him close.
     "He called her Gail." Lore explained. "I told him, `no, her name is
mommy' and he tried to explain it to me, but I didn't want to hear it, not
from him. I knew he had hurt her, that he was the reason she would cry
sometimes when she didn't think I was awake, and the reason some of the
other parents didn't want their kids to play with me. My mother had never
said a bad word about my father to me that I can remember, but the first
words I spoke to him were hurtful words of hate and anger. I've never been
very big for my age, so you can imagine how intimidating I was at five, but
when I shouted at him that he wasn't my daddy and that I hated him I balled
up my little fist and I punched by dad as hard as I could."
     Ian just rubbed Lore's back as the boy sank into his embrace.
     "I didn't see where I hit him," Lore continued as he cried a bit,
"didn't even feel like I connected hard, but that look... the look on my
dad's face when I opened my eyes... I had inflicted more pain on the man
than I thought was humanly possible. For what my dad did to my mom, he was
put away for more than five years, but after he stood up with that crushed
look in his eyes, you would have thought he had just been sentenced to
death. After that, he left and I never saw him again. Everyone back home
still thinks he is in jail, I guess my mom thought it would be safer that
way, but..."
     Lore turned into Ian's embrace.
    "I MISS MY DADDY!" came a muffled sob from Lore as he let it all
out. "I TOLD HIM I HATE HIM! I TOLD MY DADDY I HATE HIM AND I STILL FEEL IT
AND I DON'T WANT TO ANYMORE! I'M SCARED IAN, IM SCARED OF ME!
     Ian held the boy firmly as he stroked his back and hair soothingly.
     "Lore," Ian soothed, "it is going to be alright."
     "No, it's not." Lore explained as tears streamed down his face. "I'm
going to hurt Morgan! I am going to fight Morgan and hurt him and he will
leave me too."
     "I see," Ian said as he gleaned a little more insight into the working
mind of Lorenzo Masters. "Well, Lore, what if I showed you how to fight
someone without hurting them?"
     Lore calmed down a moment as he absorbed the question before he looked
up at Ian with confused but hopeful eyes.
     "Lore," Ian smiled kindly, "I am supposed to get you ready for your
trial by combat, so maybe it is about time I taught you about the Art of
Love."
     Morgan quietly removed himself from the doorway where he had been
listening. He had been right about Lore, even if he hadn't known the
reasons, but now that the boy had addressed his fears he could overcome
them. With Ian's help, Lore would learn that not all fights had to end in
someone getting hurt. To attack your enemy with the resolve to do no harm,
regardless of how much pain you yourself must endure, was a principle not
every warrior could embrace. Ian would teach Lore Aikido, and the youth
would face his most dangerous opponent, someone he loves, with the skills
necessary to stop them from harming others.
     Morgan only hoped, as he made his way to the front door, his next
session with Cole Greenberg would be more fruitful then his last ones had
been.

"You see, Riley." Chase said with a nervous grin as he was flanked by a
disapproving Artisan and Warren, "when two people really like each other,
they umm... sort of share a special hug... and it is perfectly normal and
a... natural, but only okay if both people agree... to the hug."
     Riley sat on a chair in front of the three patrol captains, having
significantly calmed down after he realized Artisan didn't stop him from
performing the same training exercises he had seen Chase do to Brian
because he didn't like the boy.
     "So, you and Brian weren't training?" Riley asked. "You guys were
hugging?"
     "Yes." Chase replied.
     Warren cleared his throat.
     "I mean, of a sort." Chase corrected. "You see, when you get older you
will learn about different types of ways people can show affection for one
another. What you saw... in the dugout... this afternoon... was Brian and I
showing affection for one another. Do you understand?"
     "Yeah, I get it. It looked like you were having fun." Riley commented.
     "Well, it was fun." Chase replied honestly.
     "Can you hug me like that sometime, coach Chase?" Riley asked
innocently completely not getting it.
     "You see what I have to put up with?" Artisan quietly commented to
Warren as Chase desperately tried to back-peddle the conversation.
     "At least y'all are getting some action." Warren quietly replied. "All
I get is a sucker punch and bear mace. I can't believe that stuff is
legal. I swear she is legitimately trying to poison me."
     "Bear mace?" Artisan said in disbelief as Chase started, once more,
from the beginning.

It was almost midnight, and the Library would be closing in about an
hour. Morgan and Cole had spent almost the entire night `training' as
Morgan called it, but Cole had a few much more colorful names for it. As
the battered Cole Greenberg got to his feet once more, Morgan knew it was
going to be more of the same.
     "So," Morgan said passively, "I've been trying to wrap my head around
it all, and I think I've figured it out. It is much simpler than I gave you
credit for, although it not as chivalrous; you need someone to hate you."
     Cole just glared at Morgan.
     "Am I wrong?" Morgan asked as he circled the freshman in the darkened
basement. "I'm sure it is not as kinky as you enjoying me beating the crap
out of you these last three nights, and I'm almost certain the reason you
aren't answering my simple question is that you are afraid that once I know
for certain, either way, I will forgive you. Are you really that messed up,
Cole, that you need someone to hate you just so you can feel normal?"
     "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Cole spat as he
wiped away the blood from his nose. "You think you fucking know me and you
don't."
     "Oh, I do?" Morgan asked nonchalantly as he continued looking for
another opening to exploit, but the kid was getting better.
     "Yeah, you do." Cole retorted. "You talked at that bonfire about me
being a team player and dedicated like you know me, like you know what I am
capable of. You don't know anything about me. You have no idea what I am
capable of."
     "So," Morgan said darkly as he stopped circling, "enlighten me, Cole."
     Neither one moved for fear of giving something away, but it was Cole
who finally spoke.
     "Yes, it was me." Cole answered in hushed anger. "I was the one who
threw the rock that gashed Lore's ear. It wasn't Jon, it wasn't Chris; it
was me. I picked it up as we chased after him and I whipped it at his head
as he ran away in fear. Hell, I even smiled when I saw it hit him because
it was an impossible shot and it made me feel good. I liked it. There, and
you fucking happy NOW!?"
     Morgan didn't say a word and his stance seemed to falter.
     "Answer me!" Cole almost cried as he raced towards Morgan in a fit of
rage.
     Morgan was fast, faster than Cole Greenberg by a mile, but he didn't
move and left himself completely open for the freshman. As Cole approached
he balled up his fist with all his anger, all his hate, and all his
frustration at Morgan, his life, and himself.
     Morgan waited patiently for the strike that never came.
     "What are you waiting for?" Morgan asked the teen that had stopped
dead in his tracks, his fist primed, yet leashed.
     A wall of conflicting emotions had formed a barrier between the teen's
fist and Morgan's unprotected form, preventing the two from meeting.
     "Fight back!" Cole demanded as he radiated the same anger he had a
hundred times before.
     "No." Morgan responded with a nonthreatening tone as he turned to his
side, giving Cole more than ample opportunity to strike.
     "You don't get to fucking not fight back!" Cole shouted. "You fucking
drag me down here and fucking beat the fuck out of me..."
     "Then hit me if it will make you feel better." Morgan replied.
     "I..." Cole stuttered. "I... it doesn't... it just... not anymore..."
     Cole Greenberg, defiant freshman and bully, dropped to the ground
crouching as if the wind had been knocked out of him. With his hand still
clenched into a fist he mock jabbed it towards the ground before slowly
lowering it to the musky surface of the concrete basement, as if to make
sure he had control of himself again.
     "It isn't fair." Cole stated sadly. "He isn't supposed to be my
friend. It doesn't work like that. You don't become friends with people who
hurt you over and over again, you just don't. It is stupid, he is just a
stupid little kid and he doesn't even know how much I've hurt him. I
just... if he was afraid of me or hated me, I could be okay with
that... but this... friendship? I don't know what to do anymore."
    "Well, what do you know?" Morgan said soothingly as he knelt down next
to his pupil, "Cole Greenberg feels remorse."
     "Shut up." Cole half-ass retorted as he wiped something out of his
eye.
     "No." Morgan half-heartedly joked. "One more question, and then we can
call it a night."
     "What?" Cole asked in earnest.
     "Would you ever hurt Lore again?" Morgan questioned with a tone that
was more pleading than angry.
     Cole Greenberg turned his head to look Morgan square in the eyes.
     "I'd rather spend three days locked in a musky old basement, getting
the crap kicked out of me by you." The teen replied and both Cole and
Morgan smiled.
     "Good answer." Morgan acknowledged as he ruffled the freshman's spiky
hair. "Class dismissed."

For the rest of the week, the boys of House Orison seemed to get back on
track. Lore went to classes the following day, despite Ian's protests that
he should take it easy and take another day off. After Warren accused Ian
of just wanting to "play mommy" for another day, Ian backed off, but Lore
knew the goodhearted redhead was just looking out for him. While Lore got
back into the swing of things, all of the candidates for the House Orison
sixth patrol squad seemed to kick their training up a notch. Even the
normally sour and sweet Melody and Warren appeared to be getting along.
     "You see this?" Melody gestured as she held up the tiny canister,
"this is illegal in over half of the United States, but it works every
time."
     "Which states did you say?" Warren cheekily replied with a knowing
grin.
     "Don't ask." The Latina answered with a mesmerizing stare.
     "Don't tell." Warren ventured as his hand caressed the deadly chemical
canister his saucy pupil was holding.
     Brian Evers sheepishly apologized to Lore for having ulterior motives
for joining the sixth squad, but seemed to redouble his efforts to train
with Chase, albeit under the close supervision of both Artisan and Whit
Riley. In fact, it appeared as if the stoic swordsman and his half-pint
cohort had come to terms in regard to their relationship as master and
student.
     "Riley-bozu," Artisan addressed his student as they meditated on the
mats within the sacred confines of his room, "you have learned much in this
past week and have shown marked improvements in both your discipline and
your martial prowess."
     "Thank you, sempai." Riley acknowledged politely.
     "Although the path to enlightenment is never complete," Artisan
continued, "you have taken your first steps on your journey towards a more
spiritual understanding of the world around you and its many marvels. I
wanted you to know that regardless of the outcome of your trial tomorrow
evening, you have honored your sempai."
     "Does that mean I don't gotta win?" Riley asked quizzically.
     "No," Artisan said, "I still want you to kick Chase's ass."
     "Oh," Riley replied, "okay, cool."
     "Now remember, Riley-bozu," Artisan continued as he spoke with
sage-like virtue, "the deadly arts I have taught you are only to be used in
self defense or in the defense of others. A true warrior who possesses true
strength has no need to show-off his power or wield his full might against
weak opponents. Remember, restraint is the greatest sign of true strength
and its proper application the greatest sign of true wisdom."
     "Oh, I get it," Riley said finally understanding, "that is why you
screamed and threw me off of you instead of really clobbering me when I
grabbed your..."
     Artisan coughed.
     "... and I thought you didn't like me." Riley concluded. "You didn't
unleash a full force because I was too weak compared to you and you didn't
wanna hurt me."
     "Umm, yes," Artisan blushed momentarily before returning to his normal
stoic self, "that is precisely why I did not unleash the full fury of my
family's ancient techniques against you, because your small delicate body
could not have withstood such punishment."
     Artisan stared straight ahead, less he give himself away, but when he
ventured a tentative look at his pupil he saw Riley almost in tears.
     "You... you really DO like me... sempai." The boy sniffled.
     Before Artisan could say anything the boy bolted from his mat and
cleared the few feet between him and the swordsman and gave his startled
mentor a huge tackle hug to the ground. As Artisan lay on his back,
contemplating how to get the youth off of him, he could feel Riley's
embrace and warm tears on his chest. Letting out a guarded sigh, Artisan
allowed the boy his moment, and embraced the boy in turn. He was surprised
to find how warm the hug felt, like spiritual energy melding between two
people, and he knew, despite how distanced and aloof he acted, that Whit
Riley had become a member of House Orison.
     "Damnit." The swordsman said out loud to himself, but the words were
lost on Riley who was currently snuggling next to his coach and new big
brother.
     As Riley snuggled, Lore trained with Ian in both mind and body.
     "Good, now as I come at you find the best path to redirect my energy."
Ian instructed as he mock charged Lore.
     As the redhead through his weight into the attack, Lore grabbed for
his arm and shifted the path of the assault. As Ian's energy remained
committed, Lore was able to successfully negate the attack without
suffering harm or inflicting it upon his mentor.
     "Good. Well done, Lore." Ian praised.
     Lore and Ian bowed to each other, a sign of respect for each other's
skill.
     "Something tells me you will do just fine tomorrow night." Ian said
alluding to Lore's upcoming fight against Morgan.
     "Yeah," Lore smiled, "I think so too. Just... Ian?"
     "Yes?" Ian acknowledged as he grabbed a towel for himself and for
Lore.
     "Well, I was wondering," Lore admitted, "when Morgan decided all of
this, who was going to fight who and stuff... did you know about it before
hand or did he just sort of make it up?"
     "The first I had heard of it was at the bonfire." Ian said as he dried
off, "why do you ask?"
     "Well," Lore continued, "it's just that, I get the sneaking suspicion
he planned all of this, like you and me training together, even me being
afraid to hurt the people I care about... is that dumb?"
     "No," Ian comforted as he rejoined Lore on the mat with a fresh towel
for the youth, "Morgan tends to have his own way of doing things, but in
the end he always seems to come through for all of us. I suppose that is
why he is the house captain. He has a way of reading people that even I
don't really understand, but I suppose it is that same ability to read
others that allows him to see how best to help those in need of a little
guidance."
     "Yeah," Lore said thoughtfully, "I sort of see what you mean."
     As Lore and Ian called it a day for training, both knew they would
need their wits about them for the following evening and the much
anticipated trail by combat.

Headmaster Hodges sighed to himself as he looked over the photos in his
leather bound album. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he had last looked
inside its weathered and worn pages. He smiled a bit to himself, but it was
a smile tinted with sorrow. It wasn't until he heard the knock on his
office door that he closed the book and slipped it back inside his desk
before granting permission to enter.
     "Good evening, sir." Malcolm said kindly as he stuck his head into the
office. "I just thought I would let you know, House Orison is initiating
the sixth squad tonight. I just didn't know if you wanted to supervise?"
     "No, no, that's fine." Hodges answered with a dismissive chuckle. "Let
those kids have some fun without an old-timer like me getting in the
way. Besides, I'm sure young Mr. Masters will do just fine without the
added pressure of the school's headmaster and the faculty house advisor
there.
     Malcolm seemed to regard the headmaster for a moment.
     "If you say so, sir." He replied kindly before bidding the old man a
good evening and shutting the door on his way out.
     Hodges seemed to lose himself in thought for a few moments longer
before he too decided to retire for the evening. Before he turned out his
desk light, however, he slipped his aged hand back into his desk and
retrieved the album once more before removing a single picture. In the
brief moment of light before the open office was clicked into darkness with
only the moonlight and stars to illuminate its ancient wonders and rows of
books, James Hodges, headmaster of Clearwater University slipped the
photograph into the front pocket of his jacket.
     The photograph was from a time long since past; a tender moment when
he held the most precious person in his life in his arms and they laughed
together. The child had been his life and his greatest love, his wonderful
baby boy. The picture had been taken on a clear summer day when things were
simpler and life was somehow more innocent, but that time was gone and that
simple innocent boy was no longer of this world. No longer would his toothy
goofy grin grace the world, nor would his beautiful and innocent blue eyes
light up his father's life. He no longer had a son to call his own.
     As James Hodges grabbed his hat off of the stand near his door, he
flicked off the final dull illumination of his office and walked out into a
much colder world than he had once known. Someday soon, he knew he would
have to confront his demons, but for now he could lose himself in the
memory of what once was. He was old, it was his right.

Cole Greenberg knew he was going to get an earful for being late, but he
had lost track of time in the small commercial district of the town of
Clearwater. While he was doing his best to make it to the meeting area for
the trial by combat before five o'clock, he suddenly found himself in the
most awkward of situations.
     "Hey baby, come on, don't be like that."
     "Yeah, we just want to talk to you is all."
     "Talk with my dick, maybe."
     "Get away from me you creeps!" the girl cried as one of the large
bikers grabbed her by the wrist.
     Cole Greenberg wasn't too impressed. He had never seen a more blatant
and poorly acted out scene of harassment in his life and assumed this was
to be a test set up by Morgan as part of his trial by combat. The three
thugs were over the top bikers drooling over the cute and innocent girl who
Cole thought he had seen at the Library after one of his sessions with
Morgan. Obviously this was a set up by Morgan, but Cole didn't have to play
along with it if he didn't want to.
     "No, stop, please, you are animals." Cole deadpanned as he approached
the group of actors.
     Immediately the bikers let go of the girl and focused their attention
on the college kid walking towards them. As they eyed him, Cole returned
their look with his own contemptuous glare. For an entire week he had been
forced to train with Morgan, getting the shit kicked out of him, and even
after their moment in the drab basement where Cole had admitted he had
thrown the rock at Lore that had gashed his ear open his first night in
Clearwater, Morgan had still run him into the ground during their training
sessions.
     If anything, Cole Greenberg thought to himself, this would be a good
chance to unleash some steam. He could always tell Morgan he didn't realize
his crappy biker actors were fake, and that is why he kicked all of their
asses for real.
     "Beat it, kid." One particularly bad actor barked, "This doesn't
concern you."
     As if to stress his point, the biker pulled out a knife.
     "Oh no," Cole mocked, "not a knife. Whatever will I do?"
     He could almost see the dull edge of the fake practice blade he had
seen in countless school plays.
     "Please, don't!" the girl cried.
     At least her acting was a little better, Cole thought.
     "I've got a great idea." Cole offered as he stopped and stood his
ground. "How about you stupid `bikers' stop bothering this girl before I
beat you all into the dirt. You can run off and tell Morgan I kicked your
butts real hard so as I don't have to actually kick your asses, or we can
do it the hard way and I stomp all of you. Either way, lets drop the
bullshit."
     All three bikers just stared dumbfounded at the guy before them.
     "What the hell are you talking about, kid?" the one with the knife
asked. "I swear, I'll cut you into little pieces."
     Cole clenched his fist as if the action might control his building
rage.
     "You know what, fine." Cole declared as he radiated a cold fury
towards the bikers, "If you want to play it like that, I can deal with
it. So, how do you want to go? One at a time or all at once, either way I
will get to let off some steam."
     As if in answer, the first "biker" made a "lunge" at Cole, but his
movement was so slow compared to Morgan the bulky actor might as well have
been walking towards Cole. Cole imagined he would get docked points for
being "stabbed" by the practice weapon, so he cleanly avoided the blade
and, after securing the attacker's arm at the wrist and elbow, proceeded to
fling the guy into a nearby wall. The practice knife cluttered to the
ground noisily as the other two bikers took a few steps forward.
     "Great," Cole Greenberg said as he prepared himself for the next phase
of this stupid test, "Just a fair warning, I'm not going to go easy on you
guys like I did on him."

"We can't wait for him any longer." Warren told Morgan as they tried to
keep everyone from worrying as the gathered group waited for Cole
Greenberg. "Chances are he decided he has had enough and ducked out on the
squad. It happens, partner. We just got to go on with who we got."
     Morgan thought for a moment.
     "I don't think he would have bailed on us, at least not on Lore."
Morgan decided. "We can move on with everyone else's trial, for now."
     "Alright," Warren acknowledged, "y'all are the one in charge."
     "Morgan?" Lore asked as he approached the two patrol captains. "Are we
still going to wait for Cole?"
     "Don't worry," Morgan assured a worried Lore, "I'm sure he is on his
way. Why don't we get some of the other trials out of the way?"
     "Okay," came Lore's less than enthused reply, "but if he doesn't
show..."
     "Lore," Morgan comforted, "he will be here."
     Both Lore and Morgan turned their attention immediately to the sound
of Whit Riley squealing with joy. Warren had just told the boy he would get
to fight first. As the youth prepared for his bout with Chase, the
enigmatic swordsman, Artisan, seemed to be giving his pupil some last
minute advice.
     "Riley-bozu," Artisan instructed, "I didn't want to worry you, but I
have talked with Chase, and he told me that if he wins this match against
you, you will have to run 100 laps around the entirety of House Orison."
     The youth's jaw dropped.
     "I know, this is unsettling news," Artisan comforted in a detached
sort of way, "but have heart. I told Chase that in order for this to be a
match of equals, if he failed in defeating you, it would be he that had to
run 100 laps around the entirety of House Orison."
     The youth's eyes seemed to light up in wonder.
     "You mean..." Riley daydreamed, "coach Chase has to run laps!?"
     "Yes, but only..." Artisan was cut off by his pupil suddenly
disappearing, only to seemingly materialize on the grassy field where the
first match was to begin.
     "Come on!" Riley yelled with youthful vigor. "Let's do this!"
     "What did you tell him?" Chase asked carefully of the swordsman as he
walked by towards the field.
     "Oh, nothing," Artisan replied, "now go on and let us begin."
     Chase adjusted the head protection and gloves all of the patrol
captains wore to protect themselves from their students. Since the patrol
captains themselves were supposed to have control of their own actions
during the trial, they were expected not to seriously harm their opponents
who would be unarmored. As Chase entered the grassy field and squared off
against Riley, he could see a confidence radiating off of the normally
torpid boy.
     "You ready, coach Chase?" Riley asked from about twenty feet away.
     "Yeah, Riley," Chase replied, "but why are you all the way..."
     Having introduced themselves, the battle had begun.
     Chase Dunn had known Whitric Riley for almost two years, since the
first day they met during Chase's orientation to Clearwater University. The
boy had been riding his bike down a rather steep hill when the breaks of
his old bike had gone out. As he narrowly avoided slamming into a brick
wall at the bottom of the hill, the boy instead found himself flipped off
of his bike and onto the soft cushion of freshman Chase Dunn. From that
moment on the boy had looked up the Chase and Chase had looked after the
boy. When Chase had been asked to coach Whit's little league team, the boy
had been thrilled, even if during most practices he caused more headaches
than any other player. As the boy and his coach worked together, Riley
found himself improving his speed and timing, a dedication forged in the
commitment to his coach. As Chase thought all of this over, he was pleased
to see Riley had taken to Artisan's training with gusto. His only hope was
that he had caused as many headaches, or even more, for the swordsman as
Chase himself had received during his coaching.
     In the blink of an eye, Whit Riley, one of the fastest base runners in
the league cleared the twenty feet of ground between him and coach
chase. Using the momentum of his small form, Riley leapt into the air and
landed with his left foot almost delicately on the chest of his coach.
     Chase was completely open and defenseless, unprepared for the speed of
the attack.
     "Abunai! Ka-Ami!" Riley yelled defiantly as he whipped his right leg
around and landed a powerful kick on his stunned coach.
     Lore's mouth dropped as he watched Chase go flying some ten feet back
with a tumble before finally landing on the ground face down. Everyone else
in House Orison was rendered speechless and even the stoic Artisan couldn't
help but be taken back by the speed and accuracy of his pupil's attack.
     "Umm... Art?" Morgan asked tentatively as he watched the invisible
smoke billow from Chase's destroyed body, "what's `abunai ka-ami?'"
     "In order to give Riley-bozu the confidence to follow through with his
attacks, I taught him to call out the attacks before he delivers them."
Artisan explained as Chase slowly started to get to his feet. "I told him
that `abunai ka-ami' was the `lightning rail gun kick.'"
     "Out of curiosity," Morgan asked as the fifth patrol captain signaled
defeat before falling to the ground once again, "what does it really mean?"
     Artisan grinned a bit to himself. "Roughly translated, `Look out!
Mosquito net.'"
     Morgan just smiled to himself as Whit Riley bounced up and down in
excitement that he had passed his trial by combat. The boy was ecstatic.
     Up next was Melody King and Artisan. Artisan, as usual, had his kendo
stick at the ready, but was uncharacteristically nervous. As he appraised
his opponent it became quite obvious he had a hang-up about fighting a
girl. As the two squared off, Melody whipped back the trench coat she had
been wearing to reveal a number of gadgets strapped to her belt and inside
the coat itself.
     "You trained her to use stupid gadgets, Warren?" Artisan called out to
the sidelines as a sudden surge of confidence rushed into him. "I have
mastered a dozen techniques to thwart my foes, exorcise ghosts, and sunder
any weapon... so if you think I am going to be intimidated, let alone
defeated, by a few store-bought items, than you are dumber than you..."
     Melody was grinning eerily at Artisan.
     "What's that?" Artisan tried to analyze the small canister the young
woman held in her hand.
     "Oh, this?" Melody asked in mock surprise to the swordsman's
question. "This is just a store-bought item that is no match for you and
your big bad stick."
     The Latina's grin only seemed to broaden.
     "Remember sempai!" Whit yelled from the sidelines as he sat in the lap
of his defeated coach. "Don't unleash a full fury on a girl! True strength
and wisdom!"
     Artisan quietly cursed himself for telling Riley all those things. As
Melody King flicked the seal off of the end of the canister, Artisan could
have sworn he saw the incorporeal form of a tiny demon manifest from the
opening of the small metal vial.
     "Abunai ka-ami! Sempai!" Riley encouraged.
     Artisan sighed.

Cole Greenberg looked around himself, exhausted, but finished. Apparently
Morgan had also employed a few more actors as `bikers' who had joined the
original three, and now a half dozen bodies were sprawled out onto the
streets. It was a good think Cole had put them down when he did, because as
they had ganged up on him he couldn't have avoided all of their prop
weapons had he not put the hurt on them. It was their own fault for playing
along with Morgan's stupid little test.
     "You alright?" Cole asked of the rescued girl as he knew the script
would expect him to.
     "Oh my God," the girl said as she looked around at the pile of beefy
bikers, "I can't believe... you saved me..."
     "All in a day's work, blah, blah, blah... it's what I do." Cole ran
through the dialog. "House Orison is always on patrol."
     "Wait," she asked as she stepped closer, "you are part of House
Orison?"
     Cole Greenberg looked at her, and of course he had forgotten when he
had started the fight with the first three bikers.
     "Sorry about that, hope I don't get docked points..." he began before
straightening up a bit. "Cole Greenberg, undeclared freshman and squad
member of House Orison's sixth squad."
     He thought he had remembered it right.
     "Anyway, why don't we get out of here." Cole said as he picked up the
prop knife that the first biker had been using. "I'm late as it is for the
ceremony with the other members of squad six and you can tell Morgan all
about how awesome I was at `saving' you."
     As the two began walking towards the park where Morgan and the rest of
House Orison were surely waiting for Cole to see if he had passed his
little test, the girl wrapped her arms around Cole's and the two walked
side by side. The girl seemed to snuggle into him, as if Cole was a
security blanket or some long forgotten childhood teddy. For a moment, Cole
tried to forget the cheesy acting and the elementary scene that had played
out before him just a few minutes ago, and tried to imagine that he really
had just saved the day and gotten the girl. Maybe someday, he thought to
himself, after all Cole Greenberg didn't do "hero."

All in all a successful night, Morgan thought to himself. Whit Riley had
shown skill and determination through his sound defeat of Chase. While
Melody ultimately ended up losing to Artisan. Had the swordsman not relied
on "hearing the wind" when the chemical canister had temporarily blinded
him, Melody more than certainly would have been able to defeat him. When
Brian and Ian had squared off, it appeared as if Chase had done a good job
of teaching Brian how to get out of certain locks and holds, but ultimately
it was reduced to a draw.
     "So, what are we going to do?" Ian asked Morgan as the house captain
seemed to scan the horizon for any sign on Cole Greenberg. "We only have
your fight with Lore and Cole's fight with Warren left. We could go on with
you and Lore..."
     "Wait a minute," Morgan said as he spotted a couple walking in the
distance, "I think that is him."
     Everybody seemed to cheer up a bit as Cole Greenberg strolled into the
park with an unknown girl in tow. While he had missed most of the
festivities, his mysterious arrival with a guest prompted more questions
than he could answer. Ultimately, as the situation was explained by the
girl, Cole just seemed to go along with it until he had had enough.
     "It's okay, Morgan." Cole said as he played with the prop knife. "I
totally know you set it all up as a test."
     "What are you talking about?" Morgan asked as he watched the freshman
toy with the sharp blade. "And stop playing with that, it's dangerous."
     "This thing?" Cole replied as he motioned to the dull prop
blade. "This is just one of the prop weapons I took off of the `bikers' you
arranged to have attack me. So don't worry, it's not even sharp, see?"
     Cole Greenberg ran the prop blade along the inside of his palm as the
gathered group of people went pale. Seeing their reactions, Cole looked
down at the self-inflicted wound on his hand as a steady stream of blood
ran backwards down his arm. Suddenly everything was put into perspective
and Cole Greenberg didn't feel so good.
     "So, those bikers were real?" Cole asked as he watched his blood
escape his body.
     "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they were." Morgan clarified as he grabbed the
freshman before he could hit the ground as he feinted. "Umm... Warren, I am
going to go ahead and say you aren't going to be fighting Cole tonight, but
we are going to count his match as a win anyway. Any objections?"
     There was a general agreement that Cole Greenberg had earned his win.
     "Alright, good." Morgan said as Ian brought over the first-aid kit and
began cleaning Cole's hand. "So while Ian takes care of Cole and Warren
gets all the information we need to take to Professor Malcolm tomorrow
about the bikers, how about Lore and I square off?"
     Lore turned with surprise to Morgan, having not expected the fights to
continue with Cole bleeding on the grass of the small park.
     "What?" Morgan asked the confused youth. "You didn't think you were
going to get out of it that easily did you? Come on, let's see what you
got."

Morgan woke up to the feeling of someone climbing into bed with him. He
didn't even have to open his eyes to know it was Lore, he could smell the
boy's fresh and innocent scent as he snuggled up next to Morgan in the
darkness. Morgan suspected this had something to do with their match
earlier that evening.
     "You okay?" Morgan quietly asked as he wrapped an arm around the
youth.
     "Yeah," Lore replied a little sleepy himself. "I just wanted to be
close to you, you know... without us fighting."
     "I see." Morgan stated simply. "You did wonderful tonight, patrol
captain Lorenzo Masters of House Orison's sixth squad. Everybody on your
team proved they have what it takes to be a part of squad six, so you
should be really proud of all the hard work everybody put in. You really
impressed me out there, too."
     "Thank you," Lore replied meekly and he closed his eyes, "just promise
me you won't make me fight you again. I don't like fighting you."
     Morgan gave Lore a comforting squeeze around the boy's exposed
stomach.
     "I don't like fighting you, either." Morgan admitted as he snuggled
closer to Lore.
     As both boys drifted off to sleep, neither one knew what the future
held for them, but the comforting knowledge of whatever was out there they
would face together allowed both to slumber with blissful dreams.