Anarchy | Book Two, The Genesis Series

Nine

All throughout his childhood, Kai's parents had instilled in him a stark sense of patriotism.

"Not a perfect place, but it's home" was the phrase his father would always drill into his head when he'd return home from deployment. Though tedious and repetitive, the tactic had worked. Kai's heart swelled with pride whenever he thought about his country.

Like any patriot, he adored his home turf.

But, he adored it enough to know when it was in need of improvement.

The inside of his muddled mind was anything but tranquil. The words uttered by Buck-before he'd morphed into the hyper-strong behemoth known as Rampage-swam around in his psyche like minnows up a stream, battering his brain and cementing themselves into his congested bank of memories.

One sentence in particular had stood out to him.

"They're already oppressing us."

That statement was beginning to seem truer and truer. Save for a few MMA and boxing channels, Kai rarely tuned into much television. But his chocolate-brown eyes had definitely been glued to his flatscreen when snippets of people protesting against Elites in Valley City, North Dakota surfaced on the news a few hours ago. His mind would never be able to rid itself of those harrowing images of bigotry.

Often raw and clear-cut, his old man would often educate him on how poorly colored servicemen had once been treated when compared to their white compatriots. He'd walked the halls of the National Civil Rights Museum at least a hundred times. Though he'd absorbed all of it's knowledge like a sponge, he'd never once imagined he himself-or anyone else he knew-having to face anything remotely similar to it.

He peered down at his hands, which had clenched with so much force that they'd crumpled his aluminum bed frame like a soda can. His gaze then shifted to the large, prominent American flag plastered to his bedroom wall, his eyes taking in the brilliant white stars as they clashed against the midnight blue.

His jaw clenched.

No matter the day and age, it appeared as if someone would always end up getting the short end of the stick. This time, it seemed that it was Elites who were on the chopping block.

Some things never changed.

As if on cue, Troy barged into his room, cutting off Kai's stream of thought. The locks of jet-black hair fell against his sweaty, slightly-tanned, reddened skin as he ceased movement. The pyrokinetic had probably just come from the training grounds.

"Thanks for knocking." Kai snorted.

"Don't mention it." Troy replied, wiping the sweat from his black, heat-resistant muscle shirt, which was littered with orange lines. "Anyways, Callan called a meeting in his office, so we played Rock Paper Scissors, and the loser had to come get you." He pursed his lips, shrugging in defeat. "As you can see, I lost."

"We just got back." Kai griped, unsuccessfully attempting to fix his battered bed frame before giving up. "He could've given us a few hours to recharge, at least."

"You know Callan. Always ahead of schedule. Sounded hella important, though, so I think we should haul ass." Troy said, sauntering out of the room with Kai in tow. He snorted. "Funny, never thought I'd see the day when you didn't wanna go to a team meeting."