Divine Awakening

Nomad shook his head in wonder. “What gave the C4 away?”

Ash pointed at Blast. “He’d never leave residue on his hands. He’s not the type. Bomb guys are like meth chemists, they’re borderline OCD. It’s driving him crazy that you guys didn’t give him time to wash his hands.” He turned to Grizzly. “He was too tense, and too eager to talk, both characteristics of people hiding something.”

Nomad looked at Grizzly. “Well? We still have time if you’d like to dance.”

Grizzly relaxed. “No need. He’s young, but I can see the martial training.” He turned to Ash. “Aikido?”

“Something like that,” Ash responded.

“Firearms?” Grizzly asked.

“Yeah, but I prefer a knife.”

Grizzly gave an approving nod.

“So, you’re some kind of kung fu Sherlock Holmes?” a man asked from Ash’s right.

Ash didn’t immediately turn to face the man. It was the other man who hadn’t laughed, and the question confirmed the man’s identity. For the first time, Ash’s Root chakra itched.

“You don’t already know?” Ash asked Brainwave.

“One never knows for sure,” Brainwave responded as Ash faced him.

Brainwave stood and Ash studied the CIA mentalist as he approached.

Brainwave had an average build and while in shape, lacked the honed body of the soldiers. His brown hair was fashionably messy over soft features and a trimmed beard. His brown eyes missed nothing, however, containing both intensity and a deep awareness of his surroundings. An aura of calm confidence and subtle charisma surrounded him, just enough to turn his intense gaze from creepy to curious.

Brainwave frowned as he drew nearer and focused on Ash’s right shoulder. “What’s this?” He asked as he reached for Ash.

Without looking Ash slapped Brainwave’s other hand, which had drawn close to pickpocket Ash.

Brainwave smiled but continued as if nothing had happened. He made a show of looking Ash up and down.

“Are you going to guess my weight?” Ash asked as he locked gazes with the man.

“One sixty-six,” Brainwave responded. “No need to guess. Recent growth spurt too if those sandals are yours. Congratulations on reaching puberty. Accent is Jalisco, probably near Guadalajara, but it’s hard to tell from a single word.”

Ash had only seen a mentalist once. His parents had taken him to a Renaissance Festival when they’d visited his uncle in Colorado. It had looked like magic to him back then, but now he knew the truth.

Even though Brainwave vastly outclassed that mentalist from long ago, it didn’t matter. Ash’s complete control over his body, including many things that were involuntary, like eye dilation and micro gestures, made him impossible to read. On the other hand, the fact he had such control revealed a lot about him.

Ash’s own abilities gave him insight into Brainwave as well. The CIA might have labeled him a mentalist and his skills certainly proved that, but that wasn’t Brainwave’s real skillset. Ash had met Brainwave’s narco counterparts a few times. They had names like El Confesor, El Quebrador, and El Verdugo. None had survived their interaction with mano de la muerte.

Brainwave was an interrogator.

Brainwave stuck out his hand, and Ash didn’t hesitate to shake it.

“Are you a Clypser, Shamrock?” Brainwave asked.

Ash had expected some type of important question because Brainwave had prompted Ash for physical contact. The mentalist wanted to detect things like skin temperature, sweat, heart rate, and eye dilation.

Ash placed his free hand on Brainwave’s shoulder while keeping a grip on the man’s hand. “You know the problem with people like you?” Ash asked.

Brainwave’s smile didn’t falter. “No, please tell me.”

“No patience. You want all the answers right away. If I was a book, you’d be happily reading the last line right now. You want some free advice?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Spend some time focused on yourself instead of all those around you. When you realize why, come see me again and we can have a real conversation.”

Ash lightly patted Brainwave’s shoulder and focused a thin thread of Root energy into the man’s body, creating an undetectable pressure wave through the fluid of Brainwave’s body. The ripple targeted the median nerve exiting the brachial plexus bundle, shifting it out of place and pressing it into the medial epicondyle of his elbow. Until readjusted it would cause slight numbness in Brainwave’s left hand.

As Ash released Brainwave’s right hand, he used his thumb to shift a carpal bone out of place. Depending on how much Brainwave used his hand, the wrist would start aching within a few hours and his whole arm would be inflamed within the week.

Brainwave liked to use his hands, which is why his first act had been an attempted pickpocket of Ash. Ash knew threatening someone like Brainwave was useless. The mentalist was a master at mind games and manipulation after all. He’d hate anything he didn’t understand, though, because understanding is critical for control.

Ash had just taken that control away. The longer it took Brainwave to understand what had occurred, the less dangerous Ash would consider him. Hopefully it took a few days.

“You never answered my question,” Brainwave said. “Are you a Clypser?”

“I’m not sure,” Ash responded. “Is there a test I can take? Do you want me to pee in a cup?”

Ash felt pressure in his Third Eye and it slowly built from directly behind him. His Root chakra flared, and he didn’t hesitate as resisting would only get him hurt or killed.

Ash stepped right as an arm passed through the space he’d just occupied. The hand gripped a combat knife, but the blade was pressed to the forearm. The attacker had wanted to punch Ash in the kidney, not fatal, but still painful.

His attacker had excellent training and didn’t overextend themselves. They shifted the punch into an uppercut meant to trap Ash’s left arm. This had to be Fletcher, the team’s ranged damage. Like Blast, Fletcher came from the Navy, on loan from one of the Seal teams.

Ash let Fletcher finish his transition and the Seal slammed his right shoulder into Ash’s armpit before turning and dropping to his knee, jerking Ash forward and flipping him back toward Nomad.

Ash flexed his core and casually righted his body as he turned in the air, coming to a soft-landing facing Fletcher, still kneeling ten feet away.

Fletcher stood, his six-foot three-inch height intimidating. He had broad shoulders and a muscular build that testified to countless hours of rigorous training. Short sandy blond hair highlighted his tanned angular features. His steely blue eyes scanned the surroundings with a keen calculating gaze. A strong jawline and a slightly crooked nose—evidence of past confrontations—gave his face a rugged, hardened look, despite being barely old enough to drink.

Fletcher moved with a predatory grace, his movements precise and economical, exuding an air of controlled power and readiness. Ash studied Fletcher cataloging dozens of imperfections as the man advanced.

Fletcher lunged, throwing a swift jab aimed at Ash's face.

Ash sidestepped smoothly using the Bamboo stance Willow Drift, letting the punch sail past him. He followed with Creeping Vine, redirecting Fletcher's momentum downward while sweeping his legs.

Fletcher pivoted as he fell, throwing the knife at Ash’s left flank. To the man’s credit, the attack avoided any organs or major blood vessels.

Ash caught the knife and immediately leaped forward.

The knife throw caused Fletcher to land awkwardly on his butt. Before he could regain his feet, Ash loomed over him, holding the knife outward on his palm, hilt first.

“You dropped this,” Ash said.

Fletcher slapped the knife away and pushed himself upward. He attacked with a flurry of strikes and kicks, testing Ash's defenses.

Ash blocked and parried, his movements a blend of the soft, flowing Bamboo forms and the sudden, sharp Viper strikes which he always stopped at the last moment so as not to kill or maim the soldier.

Frustrated, Fletcher feinted a high kick and dove low, aiming to tackle Ash and wrestle him to the ground, likely to try and best him with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

Instead of avoiding the attack, Ash stayed put, wanting to test the Seal’s ground game.

As Fletcher struck, Ash twisted using Serpent's Coil, forcing Fletcher underneath, and causing him to crash into the floor first, softening Ash’s impact.

Ash used a fraction of his strength to execute Python’s Kiss, pushing an arm under Fletcher’s armpit and placing the other on his neck. From this position, Ash could restrict Fletcher’s movement, immobilize him, or snap his neck.

Instead, Ash relaxed his grip, allowing Fletcher’s considerable strength to break the hold.

Fletcher rolled back to his feet and Ash followed suit, breathing normally, eyes never leaving Fletcher.

The Seal switched tactics, launching a series of rapid punches and kicks that Ash deflected harmlessly.

Fletcher paused, his heavy breathing and the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sounds.

Grizzly leaned forward in his chair and spoke to Fletcher. “I knew from seeing the kid’s stance, what you’re just realizing. I swear the Navy drowned your common sense.”

Fletcher grinned. “At least I kept my balls, you snake eater.”

“Good fight, Shamrock,” Fletcher said. “We roll every morning before sunrise.”

Ash returned the smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a girlfriend.”

“I doubt that,” Grizzly said, “Plus, Nomad could use the break. He’s almost too old to spar.”

As if summoned, Nomad stepped away from the podium along the wall and clapped his hands.

“Guess what time it is?” Nomad said with a terrible grin.

Every person in the room groaned except Ash, and his Throat chakra confirmed they meant it. Everyone truly dreaded whatever came next.

“It’s time for the circle of trust,” Nomad said. “Let’s go.”