To Walk the Whole Way (Multicross, Commission) 1 (Patreon)

As I stepped into the training hall, a surge of anticipation coursed through my veins. The wooden pillars, standing tall and sturdy, beckoned me with their silent challenge. I tightened the wraps around my hands, feeling the reassuring embrace of the fabric, and took a deep breath, centering myself.

With each punch, my fist collided with the solid oak, resonating through my bones. The impact reverberated, sending shockwaves up my arm. My knuckles tingled with the intensity, a blend of pain and power. I absorbed the sensation, allowing it to fuel my next strike.

Next came the kicks, a testament to my agility and strength. My foot made contact with the unyielding pillar, and a jolt shot up my leg, momentarily numbing my muscles. The vibrations danced through me, a primal rhythm that synchronized with the beat of my heart.

The relentless assault continued, blow after blow, strike after strike. Sweat dripped from my forehead, mingling with the effort etched across my face. Each collision with the wooden pillars echoed with a satisfying thud, creating a symphony of determination.

As fatigue began to set in, my body pushed through, fueled by sheer determination. The ache in my knuckles intensified, a reminder of my commitment. The impact of my kicks reverberated through my entire being, sending waves of electricity cascading along my limbs.

With each strike, a surge of adrenaline surged through me, awakening my senses. The wood groaned under the assault, and I reveled in the sheer power I possessed. The pain and pleasure became inseparable, an intricate dance of endurance and resilience.

In that moment, as I continued my assault, I felt alive. Every muscle, every fiber of my being was attuned to the rhythm of combat. The physical sensations merged into a symphony of power, forging my body and spirit into an unbreakable force.

I punched and kicked, transcending the limitations of my own body. The wooden pillars, once formidable opponents, became instruments of my growth. In the midst of the onslaught, I discovered my own strength, my own capacity to overcome.

And as the session drew to a close, I stood before the worn-out pillars, panting, drenched in sweat, and marked by bruises. I knew that I had pushed myself to the limit, embracing the raw essence of my training. But that wasn’t the only way I knew I’d done so.

[quote]─ Name: Peter Emile

─ Age: 17

─ Species: Human

─ Level: 1

─ Class: Fighter

─ Specialty (Fighter): Unarmed Combat

─ Talent (Combat Focus): Superior Endurance

─ Unarmed Styles Known: Generic Taekwondo (Basic), Boxing (Beginner), Generic Karate (Beginner)

─ Languages Known: English

─ Current Status: Exhaustion (Moderate)[/quote]

The Gamer screen had first appeared when I was seven, and now, after the better part of ten years, it had finally advanced to Level 1 from Level 0. It didn't show any stats, but it did show my recent actions, like today's sparring session.

My right hand throbbed as I clenched it, relishing the warmth of the blood rushing back into my fingers. The skin still stung from its encounter with the pillar, but it would heal. The bruises on my knuckles would fade soon enough, and the cuts on my palms would be gone by tomorrow. But no matter how strong my hands were, they weren't invincible. And if I wanted to become stronger, faster, more agile, then I'd have to push myself even further than this.

That realization brought with it a fresh wave of exhaustion, and I slumped onto one of the benches in the center of the room. It wasn't long before several other students joined me, resting on nearby benches or lying down on the floor.

“Hey, Peter,” said Marcus, a fellow classmate who I’d first met about five years ago. “You’re looking pretty tired.”

His comment struck me as odd, since I was sure he must've seen me training today. But I nodded anyway, smiling at him.

“Yeah, I guess I am. Had to push myself pretty hard today,” I told him.

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “I see. You know what? That's good!” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man. Keep doing that, and I guarantee you'll start beating those pillars into submission!”

He laughed, and several others joined in. But I didn't feel quite as enthusiastic about my training session as everyone else seemed to be.

“Why do you say that?” I asked them. “Are there some benefits to pushing yourself too hard during your sessions?”

Marcus shrugged, “Dunno. Some people seem to think so.”

Bart, easily the biggest and bulkiest of us, chimed in, “Some guys get addicted to that feeling of being totally exhausted. Once they're used to it, they can't train without going all out!"

Itsuka, the only girl in my training group (and despite her asian features was a redhead), concurred, “They say that is the best way to build stamina and endurance. Don't know if it actually works, though.”

We chatted for a bit longer, before going back to our training. I’d finished with the required toughening training earlier, so now I was onto sparring. My initial sparring partner was Bart, who had almost a foot and a hundred fifty pounds on me. More than that, Bart had a knack for moving his body in just the right way so that most blows were absorbed without doing any kind of damage.

On my end, my punches lacked the power to inflict any sort of damage to him, their speed allowed me to dodge most of Bart's attacks. As such, I ended up getting the worst of it when Bart decided to try something different, aiming for my legs instead.

I twisted away, landing on my side, and rolled over to my feet just as Bart landed on one knee, bringing the flat of his hand across my head in a textbook knife hand strike. A dull thud rang through the air, and my hairline felt warm against my scalp. I shook off the pain quickly, then wiped the blood from my eyes.

“Damn, Bart," I said, breathing heavily. "Didn't expect that.”

Bart smirked, “Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you're tougher than that…”

As we started walking towards each other again, I noticed that my sparring partner was limping. His left leg was bent ever so slightly at an awkward angle.

“What happened?” I asked.

Bart looked away, not meeting my gaze, “Nothing. Just a little mishap.”

It was strange; Bart never seemed to miss a single session, and he always returned home in top shape. Yet, for some reason, today he'd gotten hurt. It made no sense. Was there something I should be worried about here? Or was this perhaps some sort of trick designed to catch me off guard?

If it was a trick, it was a pretty damn bad one, since he didn’t seem to do anything that would take advantage of it. After a minute, I stopped the spar and gave him a look, “Bart, if you’re injured, you shouldn’t be sparring. You know that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Then, turning away, he began limping towards the exit, grabbing his jacket from the lockers as he went. For a moment, I thought about following him, but I knew better than to try to stop him now. I stood there for a few seconds before deciding that it wasn't worth it. If he wanted to go, let him go.

When the day ended, I was completely pooped out, but it was that kind of exhaustion that made you feel good. The exhaustion paired with knowing that you’d pushed yourself. The screen showing me exactly how much I’d improved helped with that.

[quote]─ Daily: Physical Training Complete

─ Skill Increase: Strength 1%, Stamina 2%

─ Condition Gained: Sweating Like A Pig[/quote]

The next day, I saw Bart sitting by himself outside the school building, reading a book. I walked over to him.

“Hey,” I said.

Bart looked up at me. His face was pale, his eyes drawn and tired. “Peter, hey! What brings you here?”

I smiled, “Just figured I'd come check on you. You had me worried by that limp yesterday. Everything okay?”

Bart shrugged, “I guess. Maybe a little more sore than usual. Nothing to worry about.”

His reply made me pause. Something was wrong. I glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby, then knelt down beside Bart.

“Are you sure? This doesn't sound like nothing.”

Bart scowled, “I am telling you, Peter. There isn't much to tell. I fell awkwardly yesterday, and my leg got a little stiff. That's all.”

I bit my lip. Before I could question him further, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch break. We rose to our feet and exchanged goodbyes. I turned to leave, but Bart called out to me.

“Hey, Peter. Thanks for checking on me. I'll see ya tomorrow.”

“Alright, see you then. Bye, Bart.”

That night, when I arrived back at home, I found my father already gone to bed. He must have been exhausted after another long day at work. I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, then crawled into bed.

As I lay there, trying to fall asleep, the image of Bart flashed through my mind. Something definitely wasn't right here. Why else would he be acting so strangely?

[hr][/hr]

I woke up bright and early the next morning, to the sound of my cell phone ringing. Checking the caller ID, my still waking up mind took a moment to register the name, before wondering why Itsuka was calling me this early on a Friday morning.

“Hello?” I asked after finally accepting the call.

“Peter, have you spoken to Bart?” Itsuka demanded.

“Not since yesterday at lunchtime, why?” I asked, growing a little worried.

“Because when I got back from my morning job, his drunken bitch of a mother stormed out the front door, calling me a whore and demanding I tell Bart to get home. Did Bart say that there was something wrong when you talked to him?” she asked, worry filling her voice.

I took a moment to think back to everything we’d said in the last couple days, “He had a slight limp, but he was very insistent that nothing was wrong.”

Itsuka was quiet for a moment, before asking, “Genuinely fine, or 'I don't want to talk about it' fine?” She paused for a second before continuing, “Listen, I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I just… I've never heard of Bart not returning home, so it really freaked me out. I don't know what he's playing at. I swear, I'm going to find out, though. Just… keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

“Of course,” I replied. “He’s our friend.”

Itsuka agreed, then hung up without saying goodbye. I stared down at my phone, then threw it against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on?” I muttered under my breath.

My mind was racing. What was going on with Bart? As far as I knew, he was perfectly fine. Unless, of course, something happened to him and he didn't want to tell anyone. I shuddered. If that were true, then he might have been kidnapped. Kidnapped by… who? And why? My mind was racing.

I groaned to myself, throwing off my covers and forcing myself out of bed. I stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to wake myself up and cleanse away any lingering grogginess. After drying off, I pulled on my gym clothes and left my room.

After grabbing some breakfast from the kitchen, I headed to school. I had to go and check up on Bart. Something told me I wouldn't like what I found if he was actually hurt. Unfortunately, he didn’t show up at school. No one I talked to had seen him since I spoke to him at lunch.

I tried calling him, only to hear his voicemail pick up, "Hiya! Bart here. Sorry I can't take your call right now, but I'll get back to you as soon as possible. You can also catch me on LEXNET, by the way.”

I sighed, realizing that Bart was probably avoiding me. Now I was starting to feel guilty. Maybe he had fallen over and sprained his ankle or something. I shook my head at the thought, reminding myself that he'd sworn up and down that nothing was wrong.

I decided to wait until evening to try calling him again. I grabbed dinner at school before heading back home. Once I was home, I checked my mailbox. There was a letter inside, addressed to me. I opened it and read the contents.

[/quote]Dear Peter,

‪

Hope you're doing well.

‪I didn't plan on saying anything, but...you're the closest thing I've got to a best friend, so I couldn't just up and leave without an explanation. There's something I need to tell you, something that might come as a shock. Please, try to understand my reasons before jumping to conclusions.

You know how I've always been searching for something more, some kind of purpose or adventure that goes beyond the ordinary. Well, I believe I've finally found it, but it's not in the way you might expect. Peter, I've made a decision that will change my life forever—I've joined a criminal enterprise. I’m working for the Black Mask now.

Before you judge me, hear me out. This wasn't a hasty or reckless choice. It took me months of soul-searching, weighing the risks against the potential rewards. I'm fully aware of the dangers involved, and I've accepted the consequences that may come my way. But this path offers the excitement and fulfillment I've been yearning for, an opportunity to truly make a mark on the world.

You might wonder why I'm sharing this with you now, in this letter. Well, it's because I trust you, Peter. I trust your judgment and your understanding. I know you have a strong sense of morality, and that's one of the reasons I value our friendship so much. I want you to know that I haven't lost my moral compass entirely. While the enterprise I've joined operates outside the boundaries of the law, we have our own code, our own set of principles. We're not simply agents of chaos; we're a tightly knit group working towards a common goal.

I wish I could disclose more details about our objectives, but I'm bound by the strictest of oaths of secrecy. Trust me when I say that what we're doing isn't just for personal gain; it's a means to an end, a way to bring about change in a world that has grown stagnant and corrupted. I'm not trying to justify my actions or convince you to follow the same path, but I want you to know that I believe in what we're doing. I believe it's a necessary evil, a way to shake things up and create a better future.

I understand that this revelation may come as a shock, and I know it's difficult to reconcile the image of your friend with that of a criminal. But I hope our friendship can withstand this revelation. I still value our bond, Peter, and I hope that even though our paths may diverge, we can find a way to maintain our connection.

Please, don't take this letter as a cry for help or a goodbye forever. It's an explanation, an attempt to share my truth with you. I hope that someday you'll be able to comprehend my choices, even if you don't agree with them. If you ever need me, if you find yourself in trouble or simply need someone to talk to, I'll be there for you, no matter what.

Remember, Peter, life is full of unexpected twists and turns. Sometimes, we must take unconventional paths to discover our true selves. I hope you can understand and accept the path I've chosen. And if we should meet again, I hope it'll be as friends, despite the differences that separate us.

Take care, my friend.

Yours sincerely,

Bart[/quote]

“Bart you delusional, gullible idiot!” I shouted as I finished reading the letter and throwing it to the ground. How could he be such a moron? What kind of idiot would fall into the hands of the Black Mask, a gangster who regularly tangled with both Batman and the PRT? Hadn't Bart been taught better than that? Was his family really that poor that they needed to resort to crime? He could have asked me for help.

Of all the factions in this hodgepodge world of every superhero world I could think of and then some, he joined the organization that killed his dad? Was he seriously that stupid? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Ranting and raving wouldn’t make matters any better. I’d call Itsuka, we’d meet up somewhere, and come up with a plan from there. Maybe grab Marcus for an extra brain to bounce ideas off of. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.