Page 6 of Cerulean Truth
“Dude, you couldn’t talk about anything else formonthsand you know very well you turned your ‘I’m always angry and brooding’ crap into a female fan magnet. And now it’s become even worse. Even Justine can’t take her eyes off you anymore.” Jackson rolled his eyes.
“That’s not true,” I replied, frowning. Justine was one of our best friends and I didn’t really like the idea of her thinking of me that way.
“From angry orphan to translation wunderkind to our Collective’s Leader. Not too shabby, Mr. Walker.” Jackson winked.
“Right! Seems like only yesterday we had to help you manage your ‘darkness.’ Remember when you almost killed AJ by strangling him with his own scarf for insulting Stephen?” Matthew laughed in fondness of the memory.
I let out an annoyed grunt, failing to see how that was funny.
Jackson smirked. “Careful Mat, he looks like he’s getting angry again. Can’t have our favorite Leader blowing up Cyclos because you still think you’re funny.”
“You both know very well I haven’t had an incident since I started training as an Offensive,”I replied dryly. Big mistake. Should’ve never entertained them and especially not in a serious tone.
“Ooooh we’re so sorry dear Leader, please forgive us. Of coooourse you haven’t. You’re an Offensive prodigy! Weren’t you but nine years old when they started training you? The first oneeverto specialize so young? Oh please, let me kiss your feet!” Matthew exclaimed, while dramatically clutching his heart and bowing down.
Jackson laughed and even I had trouble not grinning at his idiotic facial expressions.
“Whatever dude.” I shoved him a little as I searched my pockets.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, realizing I had forgotten my Nexus—a small circular communication and portal device, custom tailored to my energy—back at the loft at the Universitas.
“What?” Matthew asked.
“I got to head back, left my Nexus in my loft.”
“So?” Matthew disgustingly spat out whatever he was chewing on. “We’re here with you; not like anyone else is going to nex you.”
I sighed heavily, not feeling the need to explain how the Maumars should be able to locate me at all times.
“Need mine to portal back?” Jackson asked, stifling a laugh, and already taking his Nexus out of his pocket.
I shook my head. “No it’s fine, I prefer walking anyway.”
Matthew and Jackson exchanged meaningful glances.
“What now?” I asked harshly.
“Nothing James…simply noticing how much you’ve been ‘walking around’ lately,” Matthew replied with those innocent-looking eyes.
“Yes James, stretching your legs seems to have become a rather essential part of your daily work out?” Jackson added.
They both laughed as I silently cursed them to the darkest depths of the Mariana Trench. I turned away and left quickly, before they could give me any more crap about going on foot instead of using a portal.
They were right though; I had been taking more walks lately. Jackson and Matthew were under the impression I did it because of the general attention it got me when people saw me walking down the street. As it suited me best, I let them.
Truth was it helped me to map out the entire city, in case the Nexus would ever fail. Not that there were any indications that it would, our navigation device was as trustworthy as it comes, but still. One had to be prepared.
Striding through Cyclos, it did strike me how I’d never felt more at home, even with all those people stopping dead in their tracks to gawk at me.
Cyclos, my home for the last twenty-four years, except for a brief one-year stint in Switzerland, was the largest Collective on this side of the world and housed all the magi of the UnitedStates. Being a resident of Cyclos already carried a certain prestige in our world. Having been elected as its next Leader... Let's just say, any fear people used to feel when I showed up was now drowned out by straight-up admiration.
I’d been training for Leadership for over a year, an undertaking which would span two decades in total. However, while being groomed as the next Leader, which was mainly a diplomatic and political career, my former life had been entirely focused on training as an Offensive, which was more of a military-like training, focused on stealth, agility, precision, and adaptability.
They had turned me into an expert in infiltration, evasion, disguise and combat techniques emphasizing speed and efficiency. I wielded my Skindo—a compact, five-pronged hand weapon, imbued with my own translation—like it was ingrained and I had mastered martial arts disciplines. Becoming First Offensive, leader of all Offensives, had been the natural progression, though being named First Offensive at only twenty-one years old, was rather exceptional.
And I was very modest about it.
Thatwas what I loved doing and what I was fucking good at, which could not (yet) be said about my political capacities. But I’d had no choice in the matter.
