Cameron had been a friend to the Douglas children since he was eight. At some point in their friendship, Ibis had taken to giving the boys nicknames. Milangelo was shortened to Milang and Cameron was shortened to Camen.
He was ten years old when he found out that his father had made a deal with some bad people, and the reason he found out is because he was hiding away behind a wall, while he listened to the conversation as two thuggish figures continued to intimidate his father, as his father pleaded with them to give him time, promising them that success is not instant.
"Our employer has no time for a worm like you," said one of the men.
"If your little running track becomes unprofitable, our employer will have to... dispose of it," said the other.
"He's not the type to let a failing business besmirch his good name. So you and this stadium will disappear."
Cameron was not a particularly athletic boy, and indeed, running was not a strong suit of his. This disappointed his father, who made sure to voice it.
Cameron had finished a lap in perhaps the slowest time of anyone his age. He tried to catch his breath.
"What was that, son?" asked his father.
"I can't, dad, I can't..."
"Not with that attitude, you can't." He kneeled down and looked into his son's eyes.
"Son, look at me. You can. I know you can. Your mother was the fastest runner I've ever met. There's greatness in you."
"But was mum a great runner at ten years old?"
"I don't know, son, but you... I know that you can."
"How do you know?"
"Don't ask questions, please. I know because I have no-one else left. I want to see you run. I want you to be the best. And if it were up to me, your name would be Can Run."
"Okay, dad. I'll try, for you."
That was the day before he had found himself inches away from two men who were threatening to destroy the stadium and kill his father.
The next day, Milangelo and Ibis paid him a visit. He did not want to bother them with his problems as they had seemed so happy. So he pretended as if nothing happened.
He continued to listen in on the conversations that these men would have with his father. He was able to discover that the stadium had been owned by a third party for several months now. This third party – whose identity remained a secret – only wanted the best, and if this stadium did not start living up to its once great reputation, it would be torn down and replaced with something that would be more profitable.
Cameron tried his best to improve at running; he felt that he had to. But he had his doubts. He was not built for it, he was not an athletic child.
The next time he saw Milangelo and Ibis, he told them the truth, and to his surprise, they offered to help. They then left and promised to meet him tomorrow. They kept their word, though they did have to apologise to Jordan for sneaking out.
Milangelo told Cameron about a book that he read. The book explained that it is possible to become stronger than your physical body will allow. Cameron had questions, and Milangelo did his best to answer them. As they talked, Ibis looked at them and smiled.
Over the next three days, Milangelo and Cameron would train, as the thugs began to organise and prepare to occupy the stadium. The first day, after they had a long talk about the strength multiplication techniques Milangelo had read about in a book, Cameron decided he needed to exercise his physical fitness. Milangelo offered to time his running laps, and so he did. The first few laps, Cameron was no better than before.
Milangelo said that a workout routine was paramount to athletic success, and so offered to exercise and train alongside Cameron. They exercised, trained, and rested every few hours to drink and eat until the day was nearly over. Before Milangelo and Ibis left, they tested Cameron's running ability again.
This time there was a noticeable difference in Cameron's performance: he had improved. He was still far from the average running speed for someone his age, but it was an improvement nonetheless. The three of them headed to their homes confident that they could make a champion out of Cameron yet.
Later that night, as they slept, three men clad in ski masks came to the stadium. They were looking to secure the property for a third party, who were the current legal owners. This company was known as Indigo International.
"Those poor bastards who have to come here and intimidate the faux proprietor. Have no idea who they even work for," said one of the men.
"In fairness, we have little more than a company name. Do you really think that is any better?" asked a second.
"Shut up, you two. We came here to do a job, and I, for one, do not want to waste any time that needs no wasting," said the third man.
The captain of the ship paused the memory scan. He asked Two-Seven if this was more piecemeal memory.
"I don't know, sir," said the system.
"How does a boy learn about what random thugs were up to? None of this makes sense."
"Sir, I've been running diagnostics, and it appears that the memory scanning software is finding information from that time that is missing from their memories by scanning..."
"Sounds like it's going way further than it needs to. Are these even memories or are they glimpses of that time?"
"It is difficult to assess, sir. But it can be safely assumed that any events that do not include our subjects are gathered from outside of their memories."
"And how exactly does this serve us?"
"I'd say it gives us a broader perspective on the events that transpired in their past."
"Hm, well it might not serve our purposes, but being able to understand the full story, might keep things from getting boring and unwatchable."
The events continued to unfold. The three men set up cameras all over the stadium. They left after their job was done and said nothing of it.
The next day, Cameron and Milangelo continued to train, and this time Iris joined in, though she was far less confident in what she was doing, and more so just wanted to support Cameron. As the training continued, so too did improvement on Cameron's part. By the end of the second day, Cameron had gotten fast enough to be considered an average runner.
"I don't understand," said Cameron to Milangelo.
"Don't understand what, Camen?" asked Ibis.
"I've improved more in these past two days than in my whole life. I've gotten to a point that I never thought possible."
"That's what happens when you are dedicated and supported by other people who are dedicated," said Milangelo.
"For someone with such awful parents, you sure are an amazing person," said Cameron.
"Oh, come off it, I'm not that amazing."
"Don't sell yourself short, Milang," said Ibis. "You know exactly how to make everything better."
"I don't know how, I just have ideas. And thankfully, for all of us, they work."
That night, the three men observed the camera footage to learn that the kids had been training there.
"I'm not sure these kids realise that there's no point in their actions," said one.
"What should we do about this?" asked another.
"Report this to our superiors. Trust that they will take the right course of action," said a third.
The third day, training went phenomenally well. Cameron ran faster than average for the first time in his life.
"Do you understand, now, Cameron?" asked Milangelo. "If you train extensively like this, you will get better."
"Could I be the best?"
"If you put your mind to it, I wouldn't doubt it."
Before the three of them could head home, however, two men appeared in the shadows. They were the men that had talked to Cameron's father, he was sure of that.
They overpowered the kids and restrained the boys to the wall with specially designed handcuffs. The second one grabbed Ibis and restrained her using his hand. He put a gag on her mouth and tied her up.
"Alright, you pathetic kids," started one. "What do you think you're doing on private property?"
"My father owns this stadium. And last time I checked, you don't!" said Cameron defiantly.
The man that had just spoke walked up to Cameron and stared him in the eye. The stare was enough to make the boy's skin crawl. He felt the man's heavy breath on his face.
"You watch your mouth, boy, we're the ones in control here."
"We were hired by the new owners to make sure no-one trespasses. And the penalty for trespassing is death," said the second man, who stood up Ibis.
"What are you doing? Leave her alone!" Milangelo pleaded.
"Begging us to stop? That's cute. But don't think you can do as you please because you're children." The man pulled out a knife. "There's an important life lesson you brats need to learn." He plunged the knife straight through her neck. "And that is your lives mean nothing compared to the might of the law!" Ibis tried to scream through her gag, but died within seconds. The man pulled the knife out and Ibis fell to the floor.
"And just what is legal about killing a child?" asked Milangelo.
"Heh, maybe you have a point. But here's the thing. After we kill, we are in turn killed for our transgression, and the safety of everyone else. You three have decided your fate to be the same as the old owner of this place, and so it shall be."
"My dad?" whimpered Cameron.
"Oh, you know him? Do you want to see his head? It's the only part we haven't disposed of yet. It's a little decomposed, but I'm sure you'll love to see him again."
"No, don't show me, you monster!"
"Oh, dear! A little brat just called me a monster! Whatever shall I do? Shut up, snot. We came here to kill the trespassers, and that's what we're going to do."
Milangelo felt an anger inside of him that he had never felt before. These creeps were acting all sinister while preying on their powerlessness. He felt another feeling... something powerful. "Two-strength: Escape artist!" He broke free of his restraints and, while feeling twice as powerful as normal, jumped into the air and kicked one of the men in the head, the full damage of the kick not quite determinable, and then moved on to the one that had killed Ibis.
He looked at the kid and looked around a bit.
"Not an ordinary kid, are you? Where the fuck did you learn that?"
"Actually, it's the first time I've done it," said Milangelo.
"Ha, gotta admire your honesty. But if that's true, there's no way you can do it a second time!"
The man charged at Milangelo, but Milangelo saw it coming. "Two-Strength: Pick Pocket!" he exclaimed as he dodged the man's advances and stole his knife from out of his hands. In the instant that the man realised his knife had been stolen, Milangelo turned around and stabbed the man in the chest, and severely wounded him. At that point, Milangelo checked to see if either of them were alive, and then freed Cameron.
The look on Milangelo's face was the darkest he could have made. Cameron asked if he was okay.
"I've killed them. We're safe, but I've killed them."
The events that day would haunt them more than anything else they had endured up until that point.
Milangelo became a shut-in, and a shut-out in ways, as well. Cameron only ever did one thing on weekdays: his routine. He trained, he ate, he ran. For the next three years, he trained, he ate, he ran. All the while, he ran with tears in his eyes, if only I'd been faster, he thought. If only I was the best.
Milangelo grew bitter and hateful at the world around him, while Cameron became distant and buried in his profession. Milangelo eventually decided that he would find ways to spend his father's money, because he cared not about anything at that point. Cameron had made local news for his prowess at running. He was set to run in a international competition between all the countries of Pallanos. Milangelo saw the news, and had also seen the previous story about the new military ship, the SS Psychic. He arranged to fund the ship's construction, and to be a part of its maiden voyage, and when the time came, he invited Cameron.
Cameron, upon receiving the invitation, cancelled all of his previous plans involving his athletic career, and boarded the SS Psychic in hopes of reconciling with an old friend.
"Okay, I'm bored with this story, Two-Seven," said the captain.
"Understood, Phenos, sir."
"I don't remember programming you to refer to me by name."
"Apologies sir, it won't happen again."
"Get me a bucket. I held it in, but that death scene really made me sick."
After he had the bucket, he craned his neck back and vomited out of two flaps in the back of his head.
"Anyway, a story this depressing should be enough for our entire army. We don't even need anyone else's."
"Correct, sir. Uploading memory to server... sharing with six hundred and thirty-four thousand specimens.
"Warning. Are you sure you want to overwrite saved data?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, yes, Two-Seven," said Phenos.
"Writing memories to soldiers, one of..."
"Don't count them, please, just tell me when you're done."
"Understood, sir."
"I should have checked for system updates before I left. From what I can see, this may take a while."