Francesca's steps were quick; she crossed streets almost causing a couple of accidents, but nothing stopped her race toward Forte. Since she learned her brother had been kidnapped, she understood that although she was skilled, she wouldn't allow herself to take unnecessary risks. A couple of sweat drops rolled down her forehead, but she didn't slow. For a moment she caught on a shop window the flicker of TV screens: "Police have cordoned off all streets around the Liz Tower; you can see they have snipers in place in case of any unexpected movement." She thought, It'll be really hard to get in unnoticed! Rounding a block, she sped up. She began to recognize the sidewalk and plaza — she was getting close to Forte. When she finally arrived she checked her phone: it was only ten o'clock. She knew she couldn't inform anyone yet about what was happening, so she watched the entrance guard for a few minutes. When he yawned and walked the other way, she ran into an accessories shop, bought a black hat with blue on top and a pair of dark sunglasses, took off her jacket to show a sleeveless shirt, tied the jacket around her waist, and slipped into the school without much trouble.
Francesca walked the corridors hoping to find her two brown-haired companions. She went up to the second floor but didn't see them anywhere. When the bell rang she ducked into an empty classroom and realized she was in the third-year chemistry lab. Hearing steps, she looked around and saw flasks on every Bunsen burner on the lab tables. Quick as she was, she ran to a bench, read the labels of the small bottles and smiled when she found one that said "Potassium Chlorate." She already had an idea to free her friends quickly. She opened a cabinet and grabbed small bags of sugar and baking soda, then collected all the flasks and set them on the teacher's desk. She began mixing the solids fast to avoid leaving traces, adding green food coloring to each one with all her speed. She returned the flasks to the Bunsen burners and jumped into the cabinet before the students arrived.
The chemistry teacher entered, greeted his students and paused for a second as he looked at the flasks. Shrugging, he thought, Damn it, Martin — did you add the dye or not? Whatever. It won't affect the experiment. He put on his lab coat and safety goggles and told the students to prepare. Just as they were ready, he moved toward the cabinet where Francesca was hiding. She feared her plan would fail, but he stopped and said, "You know what? Let's test what you learned in the last lesson. Heat the flasks, then add what I tell you to the colored water." The class nodded; Francesca grinned quietly — Good! Seconds later smoke began rising from one of the back seats' flasks. "What, Chris? Did you add something?" the teacher asked. The student denied it, and more smoke started coming from all the flasks — including the teacher's. Without wasting time he shouted, "Cover your mouths and noses, exit slowly and trigger the fire alarm!" Once he was sure no student remained at the rear, Francesca slipped out of the crowd and the thick greenish smoke that filled the corridor. She entered another classroom, stopped pretending to hold her breath and smiled: It's an innocuous smoke bomb. She vaulted to the room's window exit and blended into the crowd pouring out of the building. She barely heard the principal announce, "Dear students, you will be dismissed early today due to a small laboratory incident. See you tomorrow!"
Emily walked out, surprised to see everyone leaving at 10:15. Tyron, beside her, breathed a sigh of relief. "Great — two hours early. If my dad or mom or brother aren't home I can play a bunch of video games!" When he looked at his friend he noticed she watched him with a tenderness that dampened his enthusiasm. He asked, "Are you okay? What do you want to do, Emily?" The brown-haired girl smiled and, looking for Francesca's contact, arranged for the four of them to meet and resolve the situation. Stepping out of the building, they were grabbed by a girl wearing a black-and-blue hat. The two brown-haired students were confused. "Hey, calm down! Who do you think you are, taking us like this?" the boy blurted as he wrenched his arm free. The girl turned, took off her sunglasses and stared them in the eyes.
Emily and Tyron: "What are you doing here?"
Francesca pointed at the green smoke billowing from the second floor.
Tyron: "What's with the smoke?"
Emily, surprised: "Why did you cause it?"
Francesca, serious: "There's trouble. Tyron — your brother and mine are in the Liz Tower. Today it was taken by criminals."
Emily, terrified: "Are all the people in the Liz Tower being held hostage? My dad and my sister are there too."
Tyron, angry: "My mom is there as well!" He clenched his fists. "What are we waiting for? Let's go save them!" He started to walk away.
He planned to rush home for his bat and then head straight to the tower, but Francesca gently gripped his hand, stopping him. He spun, irritated — Now what? — and then he noticed the glassy looks in both girls' eyes. Emily was in shock, Francesca's fist was clenched tight. He struggled but couldn't free his hand; they were silent until the blonde released him, hit the sides of her thighs and snapped, "What are you going to do, genius? Run in there without a plan and put not only your life and your family's lives at risk, but those of the city's citizens too?" The brown-haired boy hung his head. The blue-eyed girl quickly drew his attention and showed him the news video on her phone.
Emily watched footage of several men in military-style clothing armed with weapons more intimidating than most criminals she'd seen. Tyron studied the image of a soldier near the windows and tapped into his memory until he recalled the day he'd met the warrior. "Fran, can you zoom in on that guy?" he asked. She obliged. When the image sharpened, they realized those uniforms were the same as the men who massacred the shopping center, except these lacked helmets. Tyron, even more worried, handed the phone back to Emily and said, "Big problems."
Emily, concerned: "Why do you say that?"
Tyron, clenching his fists: "They're the same as the men who attacked the mall six months ago. No doubt: they're the Director's men."
Emily, trembling: "So… you mean our families might already be dead?"
Tyron, letting a couple of tears fall: "Most likely…"
At those words, a cold, sick, torturous feeling grew inside the blonde. She opened her hands and felt them tremble; she was surprised at how inexperienced she was with panic — chills ran down her back. Images of Jerome and the relatives in the tower flashed through the youths' minds. Then, as things seemed to worsen, they heard the warrior's voice in their heads: If you decide you want me to train you, this will bring you problems. You won't only risk your life but the lives of your loved ones… Sadness, nostalgia and panic weighed on them as time ticked by. Suddenly, in Francesca's mind, she saw her chef's smiling face in a memory.
It had been a hot afternoon when she was about four. She had a scrape on her face and Mario had just served her a bowl of soup. "What happened this time, perdere?" he asked with a smile. She pouted and crossed her arms in mock defiance. He smiled and said, "Remember, Francesca: if something makes you feel bad, you must have the courage to let it out." Back in the present she shook herself, and with conviction alight in her eyes she faced her friends. "Enough!" she said, taking both of them by the shoulders. "…If we keep hesitating nothing will change. If those men are more dangerous than usual, then we have no choice…"
Emily brightened a little. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Francesca, serious: "We must use everything we know to save everyone there. And though I hate the idea, we need that stupid girl to lower the risks. First we'll go get her, then we'll get real weapons from the master's cabin."
Tyron: "What? The cabin? It takes about forty-five minutes by bus to the stop, plus fifteen more to the cabin. That's too long."
Francesca: "Yes, but we're not normal anymore. We'll go straight from the waterfall to the cabin; we'll be faster if we run through the forest."
Tyron wiped his tears. "Then let's do it. Does anyone know where Alexa lives?"
Emily raised her hand. "I do."
Tyron, serious: "Why do you two know where she lives and I don't?"
The two girls exchanged looks and answered in unison: "Because you're a boy." Tyron didn't get it at first. Francesca, tired of the expression, clarified: "Think how it would look for any of us to invite a boy to our house." Slightly embarrassed, Tyron begrudgingly nodded. Stupid prejudices.
They followed the blonde at full speed toward the Wind mansion.
Alexa lay on her bed staring at a photo on her phone of the four teenagers. In the image only three had immaculate faces; on the blonde someone had drawn a mustache and little devil horns. She locked the phone and looked at the ceiling, wondering if she should follow Manuela's advice. Her need to be alone drew her toward the bathroom.
Meanwhile, in the garden near the property, the three adolescents kept out of sight of the staff and then quietly climbed to Alexa's bedroom window. According to Emily, Alexa was washing her hands when she heard a faint squeak in her room. Worried it might be Valeria returning to finish her off, she assumed a fighting stance and prepared to launch an attack. She slowly turned the doorknob and swung a straight kick — Tyron leapt back and avoided it. Emily stopped the impact with both hands, catching the sole of her foot. Alexa, startled to see her two companions in her room, demanded nervously, "What are you doing here? You don't deserve to be near me!" The blonde's voice replied, "You don't deserve us, but we're here for something else." The green-eyed girl looked at the blue-eyed one in surprise and asked, "What do you need?"
Francesca, serious: "I hate saying this, but we need you. Help us save our families and many others. Tyron says the Director's men are involved, so to avoid failure you are necessary."
Alexa, crying and remembering Manuela's words, realizing she had the opportunity to make amends, bowed on her knees: "I'm sorry. I apologize for holding back. It's all my fault… please forgive me!" Francesca sighed and glanced at Emily. Before the brunette could respond, Tyron reached out and took Alexa's hand. "You stopped yourself and I didn't tell you my suspicions about Antonio. We're both responsible for that day." The dark-haired girl rose and, before she could speak, the brown-haired boy enveloped her in an embrace. Through his tears he said, "We can never erase what we did then, but we can't fail now…" taking Alexa by the shoulders and looking into her green eyes: "…Will you come with us to this fight?"
Alexa looked at Emily. "Do you forgive me too?"
Emily, shedding a few tears: "Of course." She hugged Alexa and Tyron.
Alexa looked at Francesca with tears in her eyes. "I suppose not you?"
Francesca: "I can't accept what you withheld, but if I must be with you to save our loved ones I'll tolerate you. I won't give you my forgiveness again any time soon. If you do this again or something similar, I will abandon my purpose rather than see you again."
The dark-haired girl accepted that Francesca was right. She swallowed and released the embrace, telling Tyron to go change before they left. He shrugged, pretending not to understand and declared, "Oh please — we already saw each other in underwear in the forest last week." The three girls stared at him in surprise and disgust. Francesca stepped close and asked, "Are you telling us you used the time the master punished us to look at us in our underwear?" The boy turned red and, realizing how badly he'd expressed himself (his attempt to show closeness made him look like a pervert), he denied it frantically. The blonde kicked him out the window and he landed in the yard, wincing. Why is it so different to get along with girls than with boys? he grumbled.
Minutes later, the adolescents ran and jumped through branches toward the cabin after leaving their backpacks near the waterfall. They covered a long route and arrived at the cabin in record time. Hidden behind a tree they watched for Jayden, but nothing appeared. Crouched, they edged closer to the front porch. Tyron opened the door and revealed a clean, well-kept — though untidy — house. The living/dining area had papers scattered across the table, the kitchen had a small fridge, and swords of various types hung on the walls. The brown-haired boy wanted to grab a sword whose curves he liked, but Emily pointed to three side doors and, through a small opening, they could see a man sleeping in a white T-shirt with red stripes and black shorts with white lines. Alexa paused, looking at photos of the man with other adolescents. She noted a young Dwayne-like boy and also two adults — one white man with brown hair and a dark-skinned boy with black hair and brown eyes — plus a fair-haired girl and a woman with an unpleasant face. They stopped snooping when Francesca signaled she'd found their weapons and clothes.
Suddenly the four teenagers were thrown outside. Their gear hit the ground and Jayden stood before them. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. Francesca, wounded and bruised, stood and answered without hesitation, "We came for our equipment. The city needs us — we have to help!" Jayden looked at them sternly. "Is that your way of showing remorse for disobeying my rules? It doesn't convince me. Get out of here or face the consequences. Right now I don't consider you my students." The warning sent a chill through Alexa. But before she could warn the others, Tyron sprinted for the gear at incredible speed. As his hand reached it something struck his cheek and sent him flying into a rock, which shattered on impact. The blonde and the dark-haired girl didn't see what happened and were terrified. Emily, completely shaken, stammered in fear, "Ho-ho-how did h-he do th-that?" Her friends pressed for details and the brunette, stunned, replied, "He barely touched it with the tip of his pinky." Jayden turned his back and walked toward his home, saying, "Go save your friend now. Try again and you'll die in the attempt."
The three girls exchanged worried looks but refused to give up. Emily and Francesca ran for the equipment while Alexa launched several wind spheres. Jayden, watching them, created a circular gust of blue energy that slammed everyone back against a tree. Alexa reacted in time and dodged the spheres, jumping to the right and seeing the adult in front of her. She felt a blow that nearly ripped off her head. Something gripped her wrist; the man was perfectly still yet she felt a knee smash into her ribs. The brown-haired girl who could slightly perceive the attacker's movement was terrified. When Jayden threw the girl toward the cabin, as if he controlled time, someone anticipated her path and with a slight touch of the left pinky finger left Alexa in a huge crater.
Only two of the four remained. Emily wanted to run but her body was frozen. She knew her master was strong, but what he did now felt unreal; she could barely follow his movements. She wanted to warn her companion, who had bravely lunged for the gear thinking, I will not lose my brother!, but Francesca absorbed a heavy blow to the chin from the warrior's left fist and fell to her knees, semi-conscious and on all fours. Her thoughts were a single shout: Jerome — I must help! Jayden knelt beside her, grabbed the back of her head, and slammed it with such force that her skull dented into the floor and her body went limp. Emily fell onto her back, using one arm to brace herself but was unable to stand; her whole body trembled. In her head a sharp, gentle voice whispered, "We shouldn't fight. They couldn't win — they're stronger. You can't do anything; he will kill you." Her fear rose as Jayden slowly advanced. With a somber look he said, "A warrior must learn his limits so he doesn't risk his life in vain." Emily felt cold sweat trickle down her forehead. The inner voice worsened with every step the master took. Seeing how her friends had fared convinced her she would end the same way — if she survived at all. As he reached for her and his hand descended, she closed her eyes waiting for the crushing blow…
But a cry echoed in her heart, silencing the voice. Are you seriously going to stop here? Is this the worth of your so-called first step? With dilated pupils and a bright look she sprang up and threw a left punch, which the master caught. He began to squeeze the girl's hand so hard that bones cracked audibly. Crying in pain, she used her free hand to strike his face with all she had. Even though she could no longer feel her left hand, she landed one last savage blow and screamed, "This is what I wanted, right? If we don't respect a rule it's because we have another more important one — like Rule Number Three: passion. Do everything with the greatest spirit, with fire in your eyes and hell in your heart!"
Jayden vanished for a moment, then reappeared and set all the teenagers before him, instantly healing them. "So hard was it to do that?" he asked.
Tyron took a deep breath. "Ah! You saw the golden door too?"
Alexa and Francesca: "It was all dark!"
Jayden scratched his head. "Take your things and go to your fight." He turned and walked back toward his home.
Tyron, serious: "Master, they're soldiers of the Director! You must go save the people in the Liz Tower."
Jayden, walking away: "Isn't it your city? You handle defending it. Besides, you have the perfect chance to redeem yourselves. Don't pass your responsibilities to others."
The kids ran behind trees to change. Dressed and with their katanas secured, they stepped out of the forest after grabbing four items Jayden had thrown: hoods and scarves. The warrior said, "Remember: your home is the shadows. Don't draw attention; don't let anyone see you." Tyron asked, "How do you know more people might see us?" Jayden pointed to the sky: "It's daytime; it's hard to remain in the shadows with so much light." He closed the cabin door.
The four vigilantes sprinted at full speed without resting. They leapt from the waterfall while Emily sent a message to the detective: We're on our way! In the city they climbed across roofs, drastically reducing distance. The detective replied: Don't go there. Head to the abandoned factory on Thirteenth Street in Minis. There's an entrance to an old drain that connects to the Liz Tower basement. The exit is probably sealed with cement — enter quietly. Once inside go to the twentieth floor and disable the cameras. We don't know where the hostages are, so expect a place that fits more than fifty people. They changed course and hurried to the factory. The building was in terrible shape. After checking no one was watching, they squeezed in through a broken skylight.
Inside, they searched for the drain entrance, nauseous from the smell of rat droppings and surrounded by cobwebs. They felt uncomfortable until they finally found an old rusted manhole under a rotten wooden crate. Lifting the cover, they peered down and thought in unison: It may smell worse down there, and there will be more rats and spiders. They sighed and descended into the old, rusty sewer.
Two guards descended the stairs to the basement. When they reached the door they heard a small explosion and motioned for silence. Weapons up, they entered the dark room. To turn on the light they had to cross a short corridor; one went first and the other followed with a flashlight. When they switched on the illumination they noticed a hole in the floor. Suddenly Alexa grabbed her weapons by the barrel, effectively delivering a kick to each guard's groin and seizing their machine guns. The soldiers reached for their radios but Francesca and Tyron landed semicircular kicks to the sides of their heads. Before their bodies crashed onto the concrete Emily released them slowly and confiscated their radios. The dark-haired girl hid the guns while the blonde and the brown-haired tied up the two unconscious men. The blue-eyed girl messaged the detective: We're inside.