A Study in Movement

Chapter 3

There had been a case once, where Garret had a girlfriend. Yes, that much is true, though the tan-ish skin, messy brown hair, and slightly crazy blue eyes holds little appeal in high school, and since he's never been the strongest football player on the team or the guy who made the 7 minute average for the mile run, it was a stretch even getting Emily Briar to go to the dance with him, and even a harder effort to actually get her to date him. Now, why is Emily such a big section of Garret's "morals?" Garret learnt everybody lies. He'd come back to his dorm after dating her for two weeks, and was surprised to find Albert O'Riley, who was the strongest kid on the football team, sleeping with his girlfriend. It was also the same week Garret went to jail for five days on assault charges.
Garret took out his anger on the boy. He stole all the money from his family's bank accounts, and inheritance, used the money to buy illegal narcotics, and simultaneously drugged the two at the same time. Garret also deleted any hopes of getting a job past flipping burgers or dancing on poles in front of men for both Emily and Albert. Albert's mother, who, notoriously, was the most goody-two shoes mom in the neighborhood, became hooked on heroin, falling into full-time rehab shortly after due to anonymous overdosage and his father slipped into alcoholism. Emily got the shorter end of the stick, as Garret literally destroyed her reputation piece by wretched piece, until people would spit at her in the school hallways.
Garret? He did not care.
Now, he recounted that moment, as he laid in bed, twirling a boomerang between his fingers as he stared at the roof of his room above the bar, the room completely dark and street lights casting shadows over the bed, but more specifically over the bed in a slight streak that bore directly into his tired irises. Garret couldn't sleep, so he threw off the covers, reaching to the nightstand to find his laptop. Bright light shone directly onto his face as he flipped open the lid, opening up the files he'd been working on recently.
It was schematics for a theory Garret had: a mechanical-neurological implant that would allow an intake of perfect skill muscle memory. He looked at it for a moment, before looking over to his door, where a slim blue hoodie and an ashen gray ski cap hung on the hook above the door handle. Tonight would be the night he made his dreams a reality.
Flicking on the light over his work desk, Garret pushed aside old projects before reaching into the drawer and finding a black case, with a simple silver lock over it. When he opened it, he found two things: a needle filled with a charcoal black liquid and a plug that would fit into his computer that connected to the needle.
Pressing the plug into his laptop, he brought up what he needed: over 75 different martial arts styles from all over the globe, seven different files of medical and emotional information, movement arts and styles, and neurological stimulators, that part for his mind-reading tech, another theory he'd incorporated into the chip. Functional fighting systems that would literally guide his hand while he, too, was guiding his hand, and a mind that would advance his IQ above twenty-two points, topping off at 204 points. He would be unstoppable. And for a moment, he held the needle over a recently rubbing-alcohol-prepped arm.
"You only live once," Garret whispered, "Why not make life suck?"
And he jammed the needle in.
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Upon the telltale jolt of the needle being emptied, Garret passed out. How long he slept, he had no idea, but when he woke up, the world was...different.
This was not in the way narcotics would cause hallucinations. Moreover, his room was suddenly a dark crucible of raw, night colors, and every light seemed brighter. He could smell the deep scent of the shower shampoo he'd washed his hair with before bed, he could hear the flutter of hang drying clothes on the house across the street's roof, and he could feel the soft of his shirt fabric against his chest.
My god, Garret thought, this is...terrific. It was like waking up for the first time. Garret got to his feet, stumbling once, before picking himself up and staggering to the window. Cool wind brushed kindly against his face, and he laughed gingerly as he wiggled out onto the fire escape. Hauling himself up onto the side, Garret lunged up and caught the ledge of the roof, hauling himself up with ease, as his feet found perfect footing without needing a guide. He did a full turn of his surroundings, admiring the new colors of the billboards and shop windows as they glowed in the unceasing light. Garret was eager, and an eager Garret is always an...interesting one.
The thump of his feet slamming on the pavement as he weaved through the vast crowd was euphoric, his wrapped hands softly shoving people aside and his eyes darting to take in his surroundings. He saw a treasure trove: a maintenance ladder led up onto one of the flat, shop signs, where a worker sat going through his tools. Garret didn't hesitate, sprinting to the ladder and mounting the height of it in seconds.
"Hey, get down!" The worker shouted but Garret didn't hear him. He had already jumped from that sign to the next one, which was occupied by big bubble letters for some hipster clothing store. With practiced hands, Garret began to climb up the next vertical sign, until he was easily two stories off the ground. Still not high enough, and Garret needed height. He looked out to see a huge, daunting figure in the distance. John Hancock Center. Garret pulled up his hood, and set off immediately. Suddenly, Garret saw possibility. There was trash can there; that could be a launching surface. There was a fire escape there; that could be an alternate route onto the rooftop. But Garret made sure to save his energy, and his task daunted before him.
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The John Hancock Center is built like scaffolding, if you've never seen it. X's that crisscross on every side that crawl up the 1,506 foot tall tower as it slowly slants upwards. It's almost built like a ladder, one could say, with its grid-like shape and slope. But, as mentioned, it is 1,506 feet tall, and if humans can only fall about 40 feet before they break their legs, Garret could've broken his legs 37 time over, provided he had 37 pairs of legs.
He didn't. He had his bare hands and bare feet.
And he was going to climb the tower.