Will and Fate Ch. 3
By Jeremy

April 1992

Cold. Itchy, itchy.

Those words were rapidly becoming frequent in Jeremy's mind. Early april always was a cold month, and this day was one of the worse yet. Still, he kept his ready fighting stance, wearing only the gi that he did at the dojo. The cold was starting to numb his arms and legs, he had the impression that, if he tried to grin, his face would fall off, so stiff it was. As for his feet and fists, they might as well have been blocks of ice themselves for all he felt of them. Worse still, he had a tremendous itch develloping on his left thigh. Yet, he held on.

In front of him was his grandfather, also in a gi and in a fighting stance. He was staring at Jeremy unblinkingly, as he had had for what seemed to the young teenager a year at least. He was supposed to be the image of his grandfather in his youth. Well, that seemed good, but he wasn't sure he'd like to be this wrinkled and weathered when he got old like him. Not that his grandfather was frail as old men went, but still...it was a sobering thought.

James Storm might have been reading his grandson's thoughts, for he brought him back to reality sharply. "You are letting your mind wander again, Jeremy. Doing so puts you at risk in a fight.Clear your mind and let nothing distract you." If he was indisposed about the snow, it really didn't show.

As for Jeremy, he was getting imperatively uncomfortable. The cold was spreading through his body and the d*mning itch was getting worse by the second. He tried to focus on something else: girls, books, practice, anything to keep his mind focused, but everytime, the same words appeared again, again, and again.

Cold. Itchy.

Finally, he couldn't stand it. Reaching with his left hand, he scratched the thigh, lowering his eyes for a bare moment. Thus he was completely unprepared for the shot that went smack at the right side of his head. Dazed, he never had the chance to put up any defense before he was thrown off his feet, to land on the hard-packed, cold earth of his grand-father's backyard. It took him barely a second get back to his fett, a second more to take his fighting stance again. His grand father had already retaken his, calm as ever, as if the attack hadn't been from him at all.

Jeremy cursed inwardly. It was the sisth time that it had happened since the beginning of this session of practice. It was infuriating, humiliating and, to him at least, useless.

"Sorry grandpa, but..why do we have to do this?" he asked. The answer, when it came, was the same he had heard over and over again for the past two days.

"To learn chi one must learn focus."

"I know, I know. But it still seems too much to learn something like this thing."

"Remember, grandson, that this thing almost tainted your soul irrevocably."

Jeremy sighed. He knew this would come up. Ever since he had tried to reach his chi while knowing he wasn't ready, he had heard nothing but it. When his uncle had learned of it, he had gone on an uncharacteristic shouting jag that shook the house and frightened its other inhabitants. It was then that Mattew had declared that Jeremy would train with his grandfather, until he learned either to control his chi or his impulsion to learn before he was ready, whichever came first. He hadn't dared to disagree. So, far, however, he had been unable to do either.

And so he had gone to train. And found out that his grandfather wasn't revered by fighters for nothing. His exercices demanded a precision and a focus that was quite a step beyond his training. Meditation, controlled combat moves, focus lessons, all mixed together to form an unending line of training implementations that had almost driven him crazy at first. Even now, two days into the 'motionless focus' phase and two weeks on the overall, he was barely starting to catch up. These weeks made him like his school days, where he actually could feel normal and not some guinea pig.

"Grandpa..." he asked this reluctantly. "When I contacted my chi, I...I heard...voices."

The elder Storm didn't blink, but visibly relaxed his stance. "Voices, you say?"

"Well, my voice...but not my voice."

"Be more precise, grandson."

Jeremy relaxed his own stance, licking lips that felt cold and dry. He coughed. "I'll try. It was like...hereing myself. No, an older version of mine. It seemed like I was talking to someone. Or perhaps not just one person. I...I remember that I didn't like that voice, all in all."

"Why so?"

"Well, it was deeper and older. That was unsettling. But the tone was worse. The voice seemed...incredibly cynical, perhaps bitter. Yes, bitter."

The old man paused, relaxing his stance completely. He looked at Jeremy's face and nodded. "Walk back to the house with me." They did so, trudging along on the cold ground. They entered the house, and the young teenager couldn't help but utter a small sigh of pleasure when he felt the warmth of the house's interior. His grandfather smiled at him. "You've been spoiled rotten by Mattew and Samantha. About time I took the reins back. Now, your older voice had a bitter undercurrent. Well, did it seem violent or hostile?"

"For a sentence involving not holding back, yes. As for the other sentences...no, it radiated some sort of kindness and it was mild. It was just cynical."

"Well, its not that bad. Gouken told me this could happen if one reached for his chi too quickly and too deeply."

Jeremy raised a curious eyebrow. "Err...who's Gouken, grandpa?"

James smiled sadly. "A very great warrior, greater than me. He taught me all I know about chi, even thought I wasn't part of his discipline. And I have yet to thank him for that. But back to you. Gouken explained that chi could reach into the future, if used properly. Now, what you had was a brutal, unrestrained flux of that ability. I advise you not to repeat it, not until you have truly mastered your chi. If you ever do."

Jeremy nodded enthusiatically. "Believe me, I've no intention of doing it soon. Especially now, two days from D-Day."

The elder man looked surprised. "D-Day?" he asked.

"Oh. You know, we've been pestering dad to enter us into true tournament. Me and Tom, I mean. Well, he did it. We go for it in two days.

"What kind of tournament?"

"A big one. Ruleless, unbridled."

"And usually senseless." a sigh, then a chuckle. "But then, you're a bit young to know that, aren't you? Do you think you two are up to it?"

Jeremy smiled. "Sure. Tom and me, we're already waaaay better than the others at the dojo. I don't think it'll be any problem." He stopped when he noticed the old man frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I feel arrogance in you now. That's not good. Not good at all. Never underestimate those you face, even if you think you are stronger. Because, sometimes, what you think isn't what you are."

"Um...okay. I'll try."

Another sigh, heavy with irony. "No, you won't until you're defeated. We Storms always had to feel a first defeat to wake up from our dellusions. We're all like that - you're true father being the exception. But you'll learn. And the sooner the better."

* * * * * * * * * Two days later

"Well, here we are, boys. The tournament."

Mattew stated that in a tone of voice he had wanted showy and proud. Instead, he had sounded tired. He knew it, too, which was worse. In front of him were fighting circles in which the combats would be waged. And around him were many dozen teenagers of different age, all of them exuding strength, confidence and the stubborness of youth. Seeing all that optimism, all that energy, made him feel...heck, why not say it?...old. He knew it was a simplistic thought for, even at forty-three, he still retained the skills and dexterity of fighters a decade younger. Yet, he knew that what he was seeing today was the start. The start of the passing of the guard. He had felt it start a few years back, when a young man named Ryu defeated Sagat, the Muy Thaï champion that had been the World's Greatest Fighter for over a decade. Then all this talk about the so-called World Warriors, fighters who stood a degree beyond street fighters. Such nonsensical talk was what made him feel like yesterday's news.

He looked at his boys, seeing that they were as eager for the competion as any other youths. Just like he and his brother had been, many years before. He looked around and saw the stand where they had to sign up, and he turned to his littles fighter-wannabes to tell them to follow him...

"God! I don't believe it! The Black Eagle!" cried a deep, joyous voice.

Mattew Storm wheeled around at the sound of the nickname he had been given years ago on the Hidden Tournaments, astounded that it would be spoken, especially in a gathering of young people who hadn't been born when he fought under that name. He barely had the time to register someone was just behind him - gods, he had to learn to focus his cramped reflexes - before he was litterally engulfed in a crushing bear hug. His breath cut off, he barely heard the other man laugh uproariously as he his tall framed was lifted up. He coughed and hacked and managed to free himself, landing on his feet warily. He looked at the man who stood - well, more like towered- in front of him. He stopped then and stared. And then the two younger Storms fairly jumped as he burst out laughing himself and mock-punched the other man in the gut.

"Tom 'Hammerhand' Strongfort! What are you doing here?!?" he asked in surprise. Tom, immense, soldiery Tom, had been a good friend on the circuits when he was younger. To see him again pleased him greatly. And intrigued him.

The giant, who stood head ans shoulders over the tall Mattew, nearly split his face by the smile he gave. "What d'you think? Same thing you're doin': kicking a kid out there to get some real experience. Alex! Get over here!"

Toward the group stepped a teenager that had been standing just aside. He had long blond hair, fierce green eyes, a tall frame - he stood a little taller than Mattew, yet seemed barely older than his son Tom - and was heavily muscled. He had a nice, smiling look about him, however, showing that he took a lot after the Hammerhand. His old ally put a great arm around the young man and pointed to the one who had once been called Black Eagle.

"Alex, m'boy, meet one of the toughest fighters that I ever met in my time, Mattew Storm. I had a lot of bruises from this guy - and a lot of laughs, too!" He clapped Storm's shoulder, and the former fighter coulfd not help but wince a bit.

The blond teenager nodded to him happily. "Sir, its really a pleasure to meet a great fighter like you!"

"Great?" wondered Mattew, shaking his greying-haired head. "'Good' maybe but not 'great'. I'm not Charlie Nash here."

Tom winked. "Gotten modest with your old age. Now, how about presenting me to those two gaping kids I see behind you?"

Mattew did. Thomas shook hands with the two giants heartily, while Jeremy acted in his usual gentle, calm manner. Surprisingly, after a few moments Alex and Jeremy seemed to hit off completely, talking of training and fighting, fishing, school, and all they could think of. It seemed strange to the older Storm, who had expected the oldest of his sons to be the life of the party. Instead, the youngest had the attention of the young giant, while Thomas was in the background. Soon the trio left to enlist, leaving the two older men to watch after them.

Tom looked at Mattew. "That Jeremy, he's Jonathan's boy, or I'm a fool."

"That you are not. He is. Does it show that much?"

"You kiddin' me? The calm, the gentleness, the reserved but lively way he has. Its his father all and all."

Mattew nodded. "With his mother's skills and fire underneath." he added. The giant shot him a blank look. "Don't you know? Amelia Wang?" His words were barely out that Tom exploded.

"Whazzat?!? Hot, you're-dead-if-you-fight-me Amelia? How did he get that babe, Matt?"

Mattew laughed. "I guess he was so kind she fell for him."

Tom joined the laughter. "And how are those two?"

The retired fighter sobered. "They're dead, Tom." The giant stopped laughing, stared at him, them bowed his head.

"What a d*mn."

"Oh yeah."

Both were silent for many moments after that, thinking of past times when Tom, Mattew, Jonathan and a few others would go out and have fun. Great cherished memories, but ones that made the missing Storm's death even more sad. Finally Mattew shook himself out of his funk.

"Enough. John wouldn't want this. Let's talk about something else. That Alex, he's not your boy, right?"

"Not by blood, no. But just about every other way."

Mattew nodded. He had surmised as much and it was the kind of answer he had expected. He looked at the blond youth and studied him.

"He's strong, that one. Very strong. You've trained him well."

"And he's getting stronger. What about your boys?" asked Tom with a smile, his eyes still saddened by the sudden news of the loss of two people he either was fond of or at least respected.

Mattew made a non-commital gesture. "It depends. As of now, they're both as strong as the other, with Jeremy having a slight edge. But it won't always be that way."

"You mean, your Tom is gonna catch up to him?" But the Black Eagle only shook his head. "Then what?"

"The contrary. I've seen this coming for a long while now, and time is only proving me right. You see, Thomas is tall and strong for his age, and has intensive skills. But, althought not as strong, Jeremy is swifter, has better reflexes, and is refining his strengths while dampening his weaknesses at an incredible rate. What I'm saying is that Tom has just about reached his plateau, while Jeremy is nowhere near his limits. Already, after two weeks training with my father, he is starting to understand a bit about chi and how it works. According to him, he'll be able to master the Eagle Strike by the age of fifteen, and may be able to learn the techniques I've never been able to master."

Tom whistled. "Thats quite a summary there. I think Alex, in his own way, can reach a level like your boy. I'd like to see them fight each other, just to see their limits being really put to the test."

Mattew looked at the trio. Jeremy was actively talking about something, obviously having to do with training, while Alex was eagerly listening, sometimes making a comment. Thomas seemed rather left out of it, althought it seemed to no voluntary intention of the other two. Strange, that two people who met mere minutes ago could get along so well, so fast. As if they were....as if they were...

"Yes, kindred spirits." He said. The giant next to him nodded, understanding what he meant by that comment.

"Three talented fighters we know, and a few others who must be. It might be a nice little tournament after all."

"Yup. It just might!"

* * * * * * * * * * Three hours later...

Alex Strongfort hadn't really thought he'd meet any true competion at the tournament. After all, ever since he had started the training in whrestling, he had always been far above the best his age, no matter what they did. Tom warned him that it was a type of arrogance one had to be careful with, less he took on more than he could chew. The young blond had acknowledged what his mentor/trainer/adoptive father had said, but he still found his way of thinking sound. After all, he hadn't met anyone who seemed to come up near his level, except for full grown adults.

The tournament changed that. There he had met disciplined and determined opponents, some which he had almost lost to in his certainty of victory. He still remember the quick pounding he had received at the hands of a lithe kickboxer, who had been defeated only when he had used all his tricks and finally gotten him in a chokehold. Of whrestler, he had seen only too, and those had been dispatched, their strength no match for the talented young martial artists - one of Kung Fu and the other of Judo - they had had to face. He was glad now that he had taken the time to augment his speed and reflexes to match his strength as much as possible. Because of this, he had been victorious all the way yet, making it to the semi-finals. Now he watched as his future opponent was being chosen. One was Hiram Jones, a young master of the art of Aikido. Throughout his fights, he had demonstrated that he truly deserved the title. Small in stature, he had been able to beat opponents simply by using their greater strength. He had been completely underestimated, and had made his way easily. Except now.

The opponent was Jeremy Storm. Lean but well-muscled, he also had shown a great fighting spirit, using intricate, calculated moves that were swift and surprisingly powerful. he also had made his way easily enough. Now the two were circling each other, neither really attacking, both gauging the strength of his opponent and keeping a strict defense, knowing a slip could mean disaster. It was so tense, some people were barely breathing. Alex was expectant and, he had to admit, extatic. Any of those two would definitely be a worthwhile opponent.

Finally Jeremy attacked with a series of jabs, which were easily blocked. Hiram responded with a swift kick in the midsection. The Storm boy barely had time to react, twisting around and absorbing much of the blow, but no enought. He staggered forward, and the aikido disciple took hold of an arm, heaved, and threw him away. Jeremy landed hard, but rolled and came up before his opponent could capitalize on it. The stalemate resumed. Suddenly Jeremy came up again, using jabs and kicks in what appeared to be a bid to overwhelm the smaller youth. It didn't work, and he again went flying. But again, he came back up too quick for Hiram to advance.

This swift dance continued for many minutes. Jeremy attacked, Hiram blocked. Jeremy punched, Hiram threw him. Alex was beginning to think that he may have badly underestimated the disciple of Kyokushin/Storm's Fang, fo it was clear his defence was wearing down rapidly. It was only a matter of time before Hiram finally finished him.

After three more minutes, and three more throws, the time came. Jeremy shuddered and left the distance between his arms go a little too wide. It was a momentary lapse, but an eternity to all those who saw it. Hiram did, and delivered a strong punch to his opponent's face. Jeremy reeled backward.

That's when things took a surprising turn. As he reeled, Jeremy twisted and delivered a lightning back-kick that was aimed at Jones's neck. The aikido master blocked the leg frantically, catching hold of it in an iron grip. Then Jeremy yelled, lunged up, and managed to bring up his other foot at Hiram's head. The shot told. The aikido disciple was knocked to one side, dazed, while Storm managed to twist around to land unsteadily. Just as his opponent shook himself, Jeremy then caught him with an uppercut, followed by a palm strike to the solar plexus. Hiram was knocked back and flew, landing just outside the fighting circle. The judge immediately spoke out.

"RING OUT! WINNER IS JEREMY STORM OF KYOKUSHIN KARATE!"

There was a dazed but enthusiastic applause, while an obviously winded Jeremy and a rather upset Hiram shook hands. Many looked at the young karate master with admiration, many which were - Alex was amused to notice - of the opposite sex. Boys now looked at Jeremy with quite a bit of envy. Alex was also receiving that treatment, much to his consternation. Among those who applauded, the blond whrestler saw Tom and Mattew, who seemed quite proud, but also strangely unsurprised. He must have missed something. And that could only mean bad news for him. He walked up to Jeremy quickly.

"Had me scared there for a moment." he said. Jeremy surprised him then by smiling up at him.

"Why? It wasn't like I was gonna lose." was the retort.

"You may say that now, but when he was flinging you all over the place, I'm sure you didn' think that...what? What's so funny?" he growled as his smaller friend - man, he was already using that term when thinking about the guy! - worked his way into breathless laughter.

"(wheeze)...heh...(cough)...you really thought....hehe...I was doing that on purpose?" he gasped out. "Don't let your dad hear you say that!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you find it strange that I'd let myself be taken in by the same trick over and over and over again?"

Alex thought about the fight. Then it struck him. "They were all feints?" he asked, more to himself than to the smaller fighter. Of course, it was Jeremy who immediately answered.

"Right! Extremely painful feints." he groaned, massaging his bruised back. "He was too overconfident, and that made him blind." he finally explained.

Alex shook his head, then let out a laugh, slapping the smaller youth on the shoulder, apologizing quickly when the slap threw said youth down. The more he saw of this Jeremy, the more he liked him: intelligent and mild, hiding inside him a great determination and boldness. He was looking forward to their fight, and told him so.

"Thanks. I'm looking forward to this, too." he swallowed. "I need a drink real bad. Where's Tom?"

"You're brother? He made it to the semi-finals, too." he pointed. "Look, you can see the fight over there."

Sure enough, there was a fight going on, opposing Thomas Storm to the other semi-finalist, a girl whose name Alex didn't catch, but from all aspects seemed to be a master of karate. And a great master, at that, for the young girl was giving Jeremy's more muscular sibling a run for his money. It might be fun to watch the ending, whatever it may be.

Jeremy might have been reading his thoughts, for he said, "Let me get water or something and we'll see how it goes over there."

Finally, after taking a soda at a dispenser - taking compliments and stares in all the the way up and down - they made their way to the fighting circle, pushing their way throught the ever-increasing throng. As soon as they neared, they saw that the fight was going rather badly for Thomas. His blows were waning in strength, while his chest was heaving slightly from the inevitable combination of fatigue, stress and breathlessness that came with exhaustion. As for the girl - rather plain in looks, but physically extremely fit - she seemed to be sweating, but showed no other external sign of discomfort. From what they both could see, her techniques remained strong and precise.

Next to Alex, Jeremy mumbled something. Something that had the words "all at the beginning" and "fool". He understood immediately. This time, it had been Thomas who had been overconfident, giving his all against what he saw as a weaker opponent. The girl must have seen it coming, and had managed to stem the attacks until he had litterally run out of ammo. Then she could defeat him at her leisure. Yes, that must have been what had happened.

And it was working perfectly, too. It was clear that the champion of this tournament would be she, Jeremy or Alex.

Finally, after a last, desperate attack, Thomas was slowly overcome, slipped, tried to rise and was unceremoniously pushed out of the fighting circle. The crowd cheered the winner who, Alex found, seemed deservedly well-pleased of her success.

"WINNER, CAROLINA CASTILLO OF SHINPAH KARATE!" was called out.

Castillo, Alex thought, that's spanish. He didn't know why he had thought this, but he had. It wasn't like the origin was anything important. Skills were. He looked at her as she shook hands with an upset and dejected Thomas. Oh, but she was an arrogant little thing, quite a step beyond all that he'd seen before. She was sure of her skills, and he surmised she didn't think twice when ridiculing another. He hoped she wouldn't make things worse than they already worse. Thomas was upset enough.

He should have hoped something else. As she shook hands, her face screwed itself into a derisive smirk. Beside him, Jeremy groaned dismally. Thomas couldn't help but having seen that, of course.

He had.

And the effect was terrible.

Thomas went red with anger. His eyes blazed. Unwitting, the girl turned her back to him and started to walk out of the circle. That's when he shifted around, and brought his feet up.

"TOM, NO!" shouted Jeremy. It came far too late. The feet came crasing down on the girl's shoulder. She screamed in pain, and slumped forward. Jeremy' drink clattered on the floor unheard as he the tumult started over the incident At once people went to assist the victim, roughly -and understandably unkindly- thrusting Thomas out of his way. Alex, his mouth agape, stared in shock at the scene. He saw Tom and Mattew kneeling beside the girl's sensei, asking if she was alright. Alex ground his teeth at the girl's moans, and shot Thomas, who had turned away with a strange face, a very dark look indeed.

"No, it's not broken." told the sensei. "He glared at Thomas's back. "But its not for lack of trying."

Thomas ignored the glares, coming to them with a strange look. Alex had never, never in his life felt the very urge to hit a guy, not even the worst bullies he had encountered. As he approached, he clenched his fists and took a step forward, ready to give the dishonorable fighter a punch he'd never forget. But as he did, Jeremy jerked forward, grabbed hold of Thomas's gi, and gave a punch with all of his strength. So strong was it, it almost knocked the taller Storm uncounscious. As it was, he went flat on his butt and sat there, dazed.

"W-w-w" was what he said. He never had the chance to say anything coherent, for Jeremy erupted like a volcano. Alex cringed back when he saw the flare in the eyes of this otherwise composed and mild youth.

"You d*mn, thoughtless, brainless MORON!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his anger almost palpable for everyone around. "This was...was...completely...out of line! What you've done is..monstrous." he gritted his teeth. "I won't forget what you did, cousin, I hope you're happy about it, because you've lost a lot for it. Not the least is my respect."

Thomas blinked and while he still seemed dazed, he became coherent again. "At least she won't get the trophy, now." he mumbled.

Jeremy took a step forward again, and this time Alex thought Thomas was really going to have it (not that he minded). Then the smaller Storm stopped, glaring down, then seemed to smirk.

"No, cuz, you won't have even that satisfaction." he said. He turned to the crowd straight, his face, at that moment, seeming older than his fourten years. "I forfeit my place!" he called out. Gasps of surprise accompanied by silent galnces of approval boomed out. Alex realized that the smaller youth had just tried to repair a wrong with a good action. He also realized that for it to work, he had to forfeit as well. He toyed with the idea, then saw that his way was clear.

"I forfeit, too." he stated. Seeing Jeremy stride off, he turned to follow. As he walked out of the area, he heard Thomas's voice ring out.

"You can't do that! She..."

"SHUT UP!"

Alex glanced behind him to see a completely p*ssed-off Mattew Storm, who looked at his son with anger and intense disappointment. Oh yeah, he thought, now he's gonna get it.

He wasn't surprised when he found himself not pitying the fool one bit.

* * * * * * * * * * Minutes later...

Jeremy was walking down the entrance hall, angry.

Not, not just angry. He was just simply seeing RED. He wanted to walk back to the arena, to get his hands on that f---ing Thomas and pound him good. But he couldn't. He thought himself honorable, and his cousin's actions - no brother now, ever - just made this aspect he saw in his being that much more important, that much more cherished.

He felt not only anger, but a bitterness and a disappointment which were new too him. He had grown with the guy. Trained with him day after day for years. He knew Tom was headstrong. He knew he was inclined to go gung-ho. But this. This was...far too much. He had been angry when he had told Tom that he had lost his trust because of that action, but it was the truth. Some might think he was exaggerating based on too little. But he couldn't trust someone like that. Someone who'd take away the principles and morals of his family and throw it away on a stupid, base act. Maybe it made him inflexible. So be it.

"Rhaa! Idiot!" he shouted. He punched the wall. The wall was unaffected. His hand, however, felt like it had been blasted apart. "Ouch, ow!" He groaned, holding his hand.

"Feel better, now?"

He turned and saw a worried Alex. What was that guy doing here? Had he been following him? If so, why? Oh, yeah, there was that.

"I'm...less angry. Just hurt, I guess." a pause. "Sorry, I made you lose that title."

Alex just waved his excuses away. "Bah, its not like what you said wasn't right. And anyway, I wasn't feeling like fighting after....that." The last word was spoken with such disgust that there could be no doubt what that meant.

"Yeah. You and me both." his shoulder sagged.

"Don't worry about it."

"Thanks." he roused himself with an effort and tackled a new line of conversation, just to keep his mind occupied on trivial things. "You gonna stay here long?"

Alex shrugged. "A few days to look around. Why?"

Jeremy, for the first time in what seemed to him an eternity, smiled. "If that's right, come on. We"ll go and kidnap both my friends Nate and Claudia, then haul them somwhere we can all have fun!" he exclaimed.

The giant opened his mouth, closed it, seemed utterly at a lost. He finally manage to babble about neither of them being able to drive a car.

"Dont worry! My house's barely an hour's walk away and look outside. It must be not much more than two pm. Come on! Nate's a very nice guy and you'll love Claudia - when she doesn't talk. Let's go! We both need the fun. Especially me!"

"But our fathers..."

"Mine will know where I went - I always drop on my friends when I'm feeling down. He'll just tell your dad that you went with me, which is true! Now, no excuses! We've seen enough violence today, so let's visit non-violent people for a change."

And with that, with almost desperate energy, Jeremy Storm went out the Arena, leaving a befuddled Alex. He had reached the bottom of the front steps when he noticed he wasn't being followed. He turned back to the blond whrestler. "C'mon, Al!"

The giant poke his head outside. "Okay already. But let's change clothes, okay? Especially you."

Jeremy looked down at himself. Sure enough, he was still in his gi. Scratching his head, he skipped back inside the arena.

"Fine. I'll change. Then we go and get those two and then we'll go..." he stopped abdruptly. Alex cocked his head.

"Where?" he asked.

Jeremy swallowed. He clenched his fists. "Wherever my dear cousin isn't!" he said with renewed anger. He then stormed off to where his locker were, hoping Thomas wouldn't be there.

Yeah, he needed Claudia's teases, Nate's funny jokes. Most of all he needed their trust and their friendship. After all, he had lost much, too much, today.

And he wasn't sure he'd regain what had been lost anytime soon.