Chapter 9
Episode 3: The Training Arc
Jake
Jake started untying his shoes.
"Wait, keep them on," Miley said, stopping him.
"Well, why are your shoes off, then?" Jake asked, retying them.
"The ground is slippery, so you'll have an advantage," Miley explained, putting her hands on her hips.
"Oh, that makes sense," Jake said, "So what are we training first?"
Miley turned toward him and folded her arms.
"Hit me," she casually said.
Jake raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Wh-what?"
"I wanna see how you can fight so far. Go ahead, don't be scared," Miley gently encouraged him.
Jake slowly stepped forward as Miley stood still. He looked at his fist, then back at her.
"Come on," Miley said.
Jake sighed, then swung at her.
She caught the punch and crouched, sweeping his legs and tripping him, all within what seemed like a nanosecond. Jake grunted as he landed on his back, staring up at the sky before he saw Miley peering down at him from above.
"You threw your punch wrong. Don't tuck your thumb inside your fist because you could break your hand that way. Instead..." Miley bent down and gently grabbed his hand, tucking his fingers into a fist and moving his thumb below his knuckles.
"Try doing that instead," she finished, before helping Jake back up.
Jake stood back up to his full height and tried swinging again. Miley casually dodged, leaning back and ducking multiple times as Jake tried hitting her.
As Jake swung again, he saw Miley raise her leg and kick straight, blocking his punch with the sole of her foot and bringing his fist to a dead stop. She then swung her foot at his chest, knocking the air out of him and sending him back about ten feet.
"Okay. We have a lot to learn," Miley said, kneeling by Jake, "You okay?"
"I'll live," Jake answered, rubbing his back, "What'd I do wrong?"
Miley thought as her hands began glowing turquoise. She placed her hand on the left side of Jake's ribs before speaking.
"You telegraphed your punches a lot, for starters," Miley explained.
"What's that mean?" Jake asked.
"It means I could predict what you were going to do based on what you did before the attack," Miley explained further.
"Another superpower of yours?" Jake asked, looking at her.
"Nope, I watched how you moved," Miley answered casually.
"Oh, so I'm that bad at fighting," Jake thought, before speaking.
"Huh, how so?"
"You loaded up on your punches, your shoulder movement was a little bit jumpy, the way your torso moved, some small things like that," Miley said as the turquoise glow on her hands faded away.
"So how do I not do that?" Jake asked.
"Try to keep your body still in your stance, but we can work on that later. Now we gotta stretch. After that, we're gonna run, and after that, you get to pick your fighting style," Miley said, smiling at him.
"Oh okay. So what stretches are we doing?" Jake asked.
***
"My body feels like spaghetti," Jake groaned, sprawling face down on the ground.
Miley had put him through the ringer with these exercises. His limbs were burning and he was sore all over. He didn't feel like getting up from his spot.
He rolled over and saw Miley stretching still, before tugging her left leg into a standing split, practically touching her shin to her forehead as she pointed her foot to the sky.
"Alright, that's enough of that," she said, before looking at Jake.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"My body is dead, Miley," Jake said, staring past her into the sky.
"Well, revive it. We're running now. Come on, get up," Miley said, gently pulling him up.
"How long?" Jake asked her.
"20ish minutes," Miley answered, putting her shoes back on.
"If I pass out on this run, you're carrying me home," Jake joked, smiling at her.
Miley giggled and smiled back at him.
"I believe in you, Jake," she said, before walking up to the bridge.
"Come on!" she called to him.
Jake began running after her, following her back out of the woods.
***
Jake panted as he kept running down the street, wiping the endless fountain of sweat from his forehead. His lungs ached and felt like they were gonna explode.
Miley, however, wasn't phased or tired at all. She hummed to herself as she ran beside him.
"How are you not tired?" Jake said, breathing heavily.
"Jake, I can run faster than sound. A little baby run is nothing to me," Miley answered.
"Oh, superhuman stamina?" Jake asked.
"Yeah. If I had the same amount of stamina you have, my runs would last two seconds," Miley joked, smirking at him.
"Shut up," Jake laughed, before looking forward. The smile dropped off his face.
A hill stood in front of him, and he couldn't see the top.
"Crap," he thought as his heart sank.
"What I do to control my breathing on long distances is sing a song," Miley's voice pierced his thoughts, causing him to look back at her.
"Huh?" he asked.
"Singing helps control my breathing. Maybe it'll work for you," Miley explained, before starting to run up the hill.
"Okay, sing a song. What's a good song?" Jake asked himself, searching his mind for one. But his brain was drawing a blank.
"I got one!" he thought as he began whispering the lyrics as he ran, catching up to Miley.
"Is that that one Top Gun song?" Miley asked, looking at him curiously.
"Yeah, you like it?" Jake said.
"I do, I love that movie! I forgot the name of that particular song though."
"Danger Zone?"
"Yeah, that's it!"
"It's a good song," Jake said, "Wanna sing it?"
Miley nodded, and began singing the lyrics.
She had a beautiful voice, unlike anything he'd heard before. It felt angelic, but somehow it went with how fast-paced the rock song was.
"She's good," Jake thought before joining her, and the two kids began trading off portions of the song as they ran.
And for a bit, Jake forgot all about how tired he was, chugging away to the very top of the hill.
"See, I knew you could do it," Miley said as she stopped singing.
Jake looked back down the hill and smiled again as he wiped the sweat from his face.
He'd done it. He made it to the top.
"WHOO!" he suddenly shouted with joy, "I did it!"
He turned back to Miley, who was smiling at him.
"I'm sorry, you're the one who helped me. I should-" Jake started.
"It's fine. You earned it. Celebrate," Miley encouraged him, "Now, time to choose a fighting style, but first, can you please teach me a little bit of Spanish on the way back?"
"You bet," Jake answered, still smiling as they walked down the hill.
***
"Here's what you can choose from: The Superslanic Speed Art, The Superslanic Power Art, and The Superslanic Sense Art. There are more fighting styles, but these are the main three," Miley explained, opening an old book she had in her backpack. It had pictures next to each fighting, depicting a man fighting in each.
"Can you explain each one?" Jake asked.
"Sure. So the Speed Art is used by faster superslanics, like me. It focuses on really fast attacks, like those kicks you saw me do to Ethan. The user uses mobility and speed as they fight, mainly use hit and run attacks, and use mainly their legs and feet to attack. I mainly use this one, since it's my favorite. Then, you have the Power Art, which is used by stronger supers. It focuses on slower, but really, really strong attacks meant to bring someone down. You'd use both your hands and feet to attack. And finally, you got your Sense Art. It's reliant on your five senses and overall spatial awareness, so you can predict, see, and stop attacks, before hitting back yourself. I'll teach you all three, but I'll harp on the one you choose the most. So, which one are you choosing?"
Jake looked each style summary over, thinking about which to use.
Speed did seem practical, but he wasn't as good on his feet as he'd like to be, and he wasn't really fast like Miley was. So that wouldn't work.
Sense wouldn't work either. The way Miley had caught off guard with the leg sweep showed his reflexes needed work.
Now the Power art, that seemed cool. He didn't wanna spend more time in a fight than necessary, and the idea of sending someone flying with one punch or kick seemed awesome.
"The Power Art," Jake said, pointing to it.
"Okay, let's start then," Miley answered, taking off her shoes and socks again, before standing next to Jake.
"What's your dominant hand?" Miley asked.
"My right," Jake answered.
"Okay, so move your right foot back, and your left foot forward. They should be about shoulder width apart. Keep your knees a little loose as well."
"Like this?" Jake asked, trying to mimic her.
"Yeah, like that! And then, what you wanna do is tuck your elbows in, and move your hands up, with your dominant hand back and your other hand forward. And then..." Miley started, before a red glow surrounded her fist as she turned her body and swung, hitting the punching bag so hard that the sound echoed through the woods and scared the birds in the trees. Jake jumped, startled.
"That was the hardest punch I've ever seen," he thought, surprised, "It sounded like a gunshot."
"When you punch, try turning in the direction you plan on hitting so you punch harder, and always bring your non-punching hand to your face when you attack. Now, let's see how you do."
Jake got into position, trying to mimic what he saw, before swinging and missing the bag.
"Don't worry, try again," Miley said gently.
Jake swung again, this time with the correct angle but too far from the bag.
"Keep going, you can do it."
Jake sighed, before throwing another punch.
Wham!
Jake stared at his fist as he brought it back, before looking at the indention he left on the punching back. He punched again, and the same sound rang out.
Wham!
"Again," he thought.
Wham!
"Again."
Wham!
"Again!"
He began punching faster, ramping up speed constantly.
WhamWhamWhamWhamWham!
"Again! Again! Again! Again!" his mind shouted at him.
Jake then swung his foot at the bag, leaving a Conserve-shaped mark on the front, and swinging a bang throughout the woods.
"Wow, I didn't even teach you that yet. You're a fast learner," Miley said, looking at him in awe.
"Thanks," Jake answered, panting slightly.
"I think that's all we have time for today. Same thing tomorrow?" Miley asked, as she untied the punching bag for the tree.
"Yeah. Thanks, Miley," Jake said, helping her clean up.
"Anytime, Jake," she answered, picking up the bag, "Now, more Spanish."
Jake laughed, and he began teaching her as they walked out of the woods.
***
"You what?" Miley exclaimed, looking at Jake.
"Yep, landed one punch," Jake said, looking at her.
"So that's why he was bloody," Miley realized, staring forward.
"Didn't you punch him in the same spot?" Jake asked her.
"Yeah, 'cause the boy tried kissing me. With his bloody mouth and everything. I don't want no diseases," Miley joked, laughing.
Jake smiled, "Your Brooklyn accent is slipping out."
"Shut up, I've always talked like this," Miley scoffed, punching him in the arm.
Jake laughed, before remembering something.
"Wait, so you said there were other fighting styles. What were they?" Jake asked as the two of them walked.
"They're not really 'official' since they're not used as much. But I could name a couple," Miley answered, before thinking.
"Some supers can fly, so they used that to their advantage. Think like World War 2 dogfights, but with energy balls and stuff."
"Ooh," Jake whispered.
"I also knew this kid named Tommy who somehow managed to incorporate breakdancing into his fighting style, and basically made his own. It was like a tornado of electricity and energy like this," Miley added, demonstrating by flashing a blue aura around her with electricity sparking as well.
"He seems super cool!" Jake said.
Miley looked down at the ground.
"He was."
They walked up to Miley's house and stopped.
"So, what do you wanna learn tomorrow?" Miley shyly asked him, toeing at the ground with her shoe.
"I don't know, how you kick so fast and hard?" Jake said.
He saw a small smile creep along her smile as she stared down.
"Alright, we'll learn that tomorrow. See ya, Jake. Oh, and keep the book," she said, walking up her steps.
"Hey Miley," he called to her.
She turned to him.
"Friends?" he asked.
She smiled at him.
"Friends," she said, opening the door and stepping into the house.
Jake stood in her driveway, smiling to himself. This training would be fun. He couldn't wait.
He started the walk over to his house across the street, looking back ways as he crossed. But from on his right caught his eye.
The hill. It stood before him, and like before, he couldn't see the top.
"Time to put some of that training to use," he thought, as he began running up the hill, with the being the first of many up and down trips back and forth.
***
Miley
"Hi, Mommy. I'm home," she said, lugging the punching bag up the stairs.
"Hi, hon. Where've you been?" her mom asked.
"I was at the park teaching Jake how to fight," Miley explained.
"What for?" her mom asked, leaning on the counter.
"He gets beaten up by bullies a lot," Miley said.
"Ah, and how's training going?"
"He's learning. He's not the best at it, but he's trying really hard. And..." Miley interrupted herself, pausing for effect, "He's teaching me Spanish."
"Wow, look at you embracing your roots." her mom applauded her.
"So, how's your day been?" Miley asked, reaching for some soda as she opened the fridge.
"Good, I did some gardening, some trimming, stuff like that," her mom answered, "It does seem like you're starting to like that boy Jake, though."
"Mommyyyy," Miley groaned, throwing her head back.
"I'm just saying. He seems like a nice boy," her mom defended herself.
Miley shook her head and started up the stairs.
"Amanda!" she heard her dad call as he opened the garage door, stopping her in her tracks.
Miley looked back at her father, observing him and passively sensing something wrong.
He looked frantic, and he held something bulky and black. It looked like a safe of some sort. She turned toward him and watched.
"Henry? What's-" her mom started.
"Turn on the TV," he cut her off, gesturing to the TV.
Miley's mom obeyed, finding the remote and flipping through channels.
"Stop here," Miley's dad said as her mom stopped on a news channel.
All three of them began listening intently.
"Parts of Ultainum New York are shut down, following a break in and raid from StrikeForce. Authorities say that about a hundred pounds of superslanium, plus weapons, and historic artifacts of fabled superslanic culture were stolen. In many rooms, the message 'Eliminate the sole survivor' was left spray painted on the wall. The raid was most likely ordered by Jacob Donovan, the high leader of StrikeForce. Now the question is: Could there be superslanic people out there? What does this message mean? When will StrikeForce attack again? More at three o'clock," the anchorwoman fired off rapidly as visuals and photos were shown of the break-in's carnage.
Miley's hearing began muffling, and she could only hear her breathing and the deep thump of her heart pounding in her chest. It felt like she wasn't getting any air, and everything was somehow floating away from her. The scars along her body started aching, with intense pain in flashes.
"This isn't happening. You're fine," Miley thought, staring ahead.
"Miley!" a kid's voice called.
"No, not again."
"Miley!"
"Please stop."
"Miley? Are you okay?" she heard her dad ask her, bringing her back.
"Is that a gun safe, Dad?" she meekly asked, looking at the metal box in his hands.
Her dad opened his mouth and closed it, before speaking.
"Yes, yes it is," Miley," he answered quietly.
"Are you guys safe?" she asked, grabbing her dad's hands.
"Yes, Miley. Don't worry about us now. We have it handled. We will do anything in our power to keep you safe."
Miley nodded, sitting between them and resting her head on her mom's shoulder as she watched the reporter ramble on.
"I can't let it happen again," she thought, looking on sadly.