Leon Nef- Syndicate Headquarters, Birmingham, England

Leon dropped another eaten pear onto the bowl and picked up a fresh one, eating in silence as he cursed the invention of the thing called mornings. If only he could go back to his room now and sleep for the next few hours, everything would be so much better. But for the money that was too good to turn down, he would manage, grudgingly. The ding of the elevator was heard, and Leon knew it was time. Time for what? He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling it was going to be a long day. But a different sensation was enveloping Leon at the moment as well. This wasn't quite as potent as his weariness, but it nonetheless caused Leon to sit upright a bit more when the Directive walked in. He immediately began speaking, saying that they had exactly ten minutes to finish up their meal and meet in the training room. It was a mix of emotions in Leon. On one hand, he was eager to learn more about his power. On the other, he wished training began a few hours later into the day.

Leon remembered he had yet to take a shower, and of most of the people at the table, he might have been the least prepared, besides maybe October who appeared not to have anything but Adrian's shirt on. The second the Directive left, Leon sprung forward, rushing past Adrian and October who began to move to their rooms as well. He dashed forward and ran straight to his room, and removed all of his clothes. He then proceeded into the shower. The settings adjusted with to knobs, one for cold water and one for hot. Leon would much rather have preferred to take a nice, warm shower, but he knew he would never straighten up and wake up like that. He twisted the knob for cold water and let it spray all over him, letting out a few moans and protests as the chilling water spray over his body. He did his best not to avoid it, and he could feel that every second that passed in there was increasing his awareness and shrugging off his sleepiness.

Leon stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, completely awake and ready. He headed over for his closet where he began to get ready, first with a pair of boxers and then sweat socks. He put on a pair of black sweat pants with stripes going down the side, and a plain, white t-shirt for the training he was about to do. Leon walked back over and observed himself through the mirror, making sure everything check out alright. He then simply looked at himself in the mirror, most notably at the Atlantean tattoo that was prominently displayed across the left side of his face. He put a hand to the tattoo and rubbed it, as if to remind himself it was there. It was his mark, his proof of being more than just a man. His sign of power. And Leon was eager to learn more about it, and 'share' it with others. On the way out, he grabbed the Corona from his desk and attached it to the slot on his back belt.

He walked out of his room, and to the elevator where everyone else was gathered. Apparently he had arrived a bit later than the others, but no one else seemed to mind much, and quite frankly, Leon didn't care either. "Alright guys, welcome to your first day of training for some of you, follow me into the elevator and we can begin." Leon smirked to himself realizing something. The night before, Jericho and Archie were awfully boastful about their powers. In fact, they looked pretty impressive with them. But he realized something: they were lying. Like many of the others here, they were at their first day of training, which means they only discovered their powers a week ago, same as him. There was no way they were able to make any advancements without training. So to that conclusion, he was ahead of them, and perhaps the other female as well. Although he was still behind in his abilities of October and Adrian, but he didn't know by how much. Maybe they had it for weeks, and maybe longer. Much longer. Either way, Leon had to push himself as far as he can go.

Leon followed the rest of them as they went into the same lab he had been in the day before, where they were greeted by a familiar face to Leon: Joshua Meier. He went on to explain the purpose of the exercise, one he actually found quite enjoyable. Fighting the demon within himself seemed like quite a prospect, and he was certain for the moment, there can be no greater fight to be fought. But who knows? Perhaps someone out there might surprise him. When it was Leon's turn, he grabbed the strange device and proceeded down to the training floor, which was reasonably suited to harbor all of them in their training. Adrian and Jeremy already began their fights with their clones, and Leon initially thought about watching the others train a bit during the fight to learn more about them, before discarding the idea. He knew he would need all of his mental and physical capability to take down…himself. Most likely, the clone would be thinking of the same things he would be during combat, and try to find any opening or weakness he could. He couldn't let himself give the clone an opportunity. He positioned the strange ornament on the ground, and from it, his clone came forth. Leon smiled at it.

"Ah, not a bad looker we have here." He said to himself. "Let's put on a show for the others then, sha-" Leon never got the chance to finish his sentence as the Leon clonse fired a bolt of electricity from his hands right at him. Leon only barely had a chance to dodge, and the lightning barely crazed him. Still, he could feel the nerve around that area of his body react. And that was only a graze of the attack. He could only imagine what it felt like to get hit full on.

"Cazzo…" Leon cursed. He should have known that the clone would do something like that, start attacking when the opponent wasn't quite ready. He actually should have anticipated it, seeing as Leon probably would have done the same thing. But then again, if he would have dodged it, wouldn't the other have anticipated that he would have anticipated, which means he would have had a way to counter? But if that were true, wouldn't that mean that he would have already known that as well? No, that wasn't true, because if he didn't know at that very moment, then the clone shouldn't have either…right?

This was all getting a bit too confusing. Leon decided just attack. The best way to know what he was going to do was to do a bit of testing. Leon powered up lightning in both of his palms. The clone did the same. He began to maneuver around the area, and so did he. Was he simply copying the movements he made, or was he doing exactly what he did because that is what he would have done either way? Leon didn't know, but he didn't particularly care either. Both the clone and Leon shot lightning into the other around the same time. Both bolts connected, and both Leon's were flung back as the impact stung through their bodies. Leon landed a meter away on his back, groaning a bit. "F**k." He cursed to himself. The tingling was felt all across his body as he slowly got up. The clone had gotten up roughly around the same time as him, and then they were both at it again. Like the clone, Leon was firing low-energy shots, but an abundant amount of them. This means he would be able to fire more, while also not wasting too much energy. The downside is that they wouldn't be as strong. Either way, it seemed more advantageous in a training sense, as it would not only increase the strength of his lightning shots, but also his reaction and speed. Leon fired a set of them as his clone, and the clone did the same. Both took two hits, Leon's hitting the clone's chest and arm, while his hit his shoulder and leg. They were both injured, but pressed on. Leon fired a set of shots again, and focused on evading the next ones afterwards. The clone did a similar tactic. Both were hit by relatively the same amount of shocks, and doubled back. The clone and Leon both panted heavily. This wasn't working. Every move he made was one the clone would follow up with a similar one. They were both taking relatively the same amount of damage, and if it continued, it would end in a stalemate. But Leon didn't want a stalemate. He wanted to win. That was the whole point of the training, wasn't it? Then in order to beat himself, he was going to have to think like someone else.

Leon prepared more lightning at the tip of his fingers. The clone did the same. It appeared that the two would encounter in the same manner they had been before. Leon had other plans. The clones went in, firing the same amount of short, quick lightning bursts from his hands. Leon tried to dodge as best as he could as tried to close the distance between the two. The clone continued to fire the shots and as the distance closed, so did the maneuverability Leon had. Eventually, there was not enough time to evade the clone's shots, and hit after hit of lightning was struck at Leon's body. Leon could feel the electricity burst inside him, as if needles were pulling on his nerves and organs, and poking them continuously. Leon didn't let up, moving in until he was right next to the clone, and reached for the Corona on his back. All at once, he poured his energy into the clone, and hit him with an uppercut swing of the Corona. The energy sizzled off of the weapon and lunged at the Leon-clone, and he was flung back onto the ground, remnants of the electric shocked hit still covering his body and causing him to twitch. Lyn smirked as the clone struggled to get up, clearly rattled. Leon took a bunch of damage, but the impact he made with the Corona more than made up for it. As of now, in his eyes at the very least, he was winning.

"Come on, good-looking." Leon said to the clone. "We're just getting started."

The battle for electric supremacy continued between the two. Leon elected to abandon his usual strategies of hitting from afar and weakening with an array of attacks, and simply closing the distance and hitting with everything he could muster all at once. The tactics constantly were throwing the clone off, causing him to try to change strategies to something similar at one point. Leon knew that this was due to his own policy of trying to adapt whenever something came along, so he anticipated something of the sort would happen. Armed with a Corona of his own, Leon-clone used the tactic of closing the distance, only to find Leon now electing for the opposite tactic of keeping his distance. He now tried to tired out his opponent as the clone swung left and right only to miss with most, and sending pulses of electricity all across the room. There was charred ground from strikes each made, the very heat of the electricity causing it to smelt it. Leon fired long, deadly shots at the clone, concentrating on aim and power instead of speed and agility, while still maintaining his distance. The clone was slowly appearing to get tired out. Leon was as well, and his electricity was slowly depleting, but not at the same rate the clone was going at. Eventually, the clone seemed to have exasperated all of his remaining energy, and subtly, came to a slow, and then a halt, panting heavily. Leon took this advantage, and without a moment's hesitation, fired a set of precise lightning bolts right at the body of the clone. The clone doubled over, and fell, the shots pouring into his body and electrocuting him. Leon panted heavily as he watched his clone fall to the ground. How long was he at this? It would have been hours for all he knew. What was more difficult about this training was that he didn't get any breaks in between. All it was, was one continuously long fight. He knew he couldn't rest because the clone wouldn't give him any, and the clone probably had the same notion in mind. But as he saw the clone fall onto the ground, Leon felt he was finally able to relax. He sat down on his bottom, looking over the body of the fallen clone, a bit of electricity still at the tips of his fingers just in case the clone would get up for one more final scare. It was, after all, something Leon would do as well.

Jericho Heiko: Syndicate Training Room, Somewhere in England

Jericho waited for the mystery chick to answer while he finished his rightfully won pear and food. However, an answer was never given between that time and a point when the elevator opened to reveal the one man who'd always give him a haunting memory, the Directive. He was talking on the phone to some person or another, a casual action that would normally go unnoticed. However, watching him that didn't make it seem all that casual. There was something about knowing a guilty deed someone has done that makes their every action seem a little less than okay. The thought wasn't much on his mind. It couldn't be while flashes of the bald man's death kept coming to him, even when he willed them to stop.

After his phone call the Directive addressed them, telling them about apparent training they had to do. This could be expected, he signed up (sort of) for this thing to learn how to use his powers correctly. The Directive told them they had ten minutes to eat and get into some new clothes before they had to head out. Then Adrian spouted something abut the clothes they should wear and cutting down their apparent time. Eight minutes, he ought to loiter...

Jericho got up from his seat, throwing what food he finished away and doing what was proper in the current setting with his plates. He went out of the kitchen, hands in his hoodie pocket, and went to his room to change. It didn't take long for him to pick out some black athletic shorts and a white, short sleeve t-shirt to wear. Over top of the t-shirt he wore a gray, sleeveless, Nike-brand hoodie. In large, bold capital letters it read, "I WILL STEP ON YOU TO WIN." The words were written in white, save the last two which were in green. Underneath was the iconic Nike check mark also in green. While he had taken a few minutes to scrutinize his wardrobe, it hadn't taken much time to get dressed. On his way down, he pondered over exactly what would happen next. They were going down to train, apparently. Jericho's imagination of training had involved running on treadmills or lifting weights in a montage fashion. However as he did he started to doubt what he thought was correct. How would doing crunches or pull-ups help him learn to use his power? This would have to be something more specific, but what? He supposed he'd have to find out on his own.

He wasn't the last, which made him feel a point more responsible than the rest of their party, even if he knew himself that wasn't true. As instructed, everyone had donned athletic gear or clothing more fit for training. The person who stood out to him (other than Fletcher, who had on an odd arrangement of clothing) was Archie. Instead of wearing normal clothing like the rest of the population would, he had picked out what looked to be some sort of... Jump suit? He opened his mouth to ask, but then closed it figuring that it wasn't worth it. As time went on Archie seemed to be able to fuel him with more and more reasons to either question him or not like him. Maybe he was just an odd kid. Whatever it was, this new addition managed to make him smile than frown. Into the elevator, Jeri was forced into a bit of a corner. With the whole Syndicate crew packed into one place and Adrain's hulking, four-armed body already larger than life itself, the ride was a bit of a tight squeeze. Why they would plan to bring together a bunch of people and not make an adequately sized elevator was beyond him, but he was courteous not to get into it today.

When they exited the elevator they entered a silent room filled with working scientist. None of them turned their heads or hesitated in their work, as if a group of teens with apparent superpowers were just a normal, every day occurrence that shouldn't be minded. As the elevator doors closed behind them the Directive, who had been here before them, introduced a man that Jericho had not seen until now. He was apparently Austrian or Russian, something or another (everyone on that side of the world probably sounded the same anyways). It wasn't really important. What was that that they were getting clones or something like that. He had the basic gist. He might know more if he weren't waiting for Joshua to say something from the Terminator.

Jericho smiled to himself and took an orb into his hand. This was actually... Really... Really f*cking cool. The Syndicate may have been made up of creeps and stalkers but they sure did know how to entertain. Holograms! It was like he was in a Sci-Fi movie. As soon as he touched the orb it sprung into action. The little golden sphere vibrated and then let out a quiet whirr. While he descended the steps, Jeri could feel the warned tingling sensation that signaled a scan being done. Jericho picked a space away from the other trainee's. For a moment he took the time to see what exactly the others were doing. The first four who'd gotten down here--Jeremy, Adrian, October, and the kid--were already fighting their look-a-likes. Jeremy and himself popped around the training room in an attempt to find advantage, Adrian wrestled and rolled on the floor, the kid was in a battle of stamina, and October was having a time herself. All of them seemed equally matched to each other, neither the clone or the person getting an advantage. If it hadn't been for the fact that they had been wearing different clothes when they were cloned, he wouldn't have been able to tell which was which. Jericho set down his orb, seeing it was about time he got started. When it touched the ground the orb lifted itself back into the air, floating at the height of his chest. He took a step back, noticing how close it was, and in the next second an image flickered around the orb, then another time, until finally the picture of himself was before him.

The result was a mirror image and, even though he expected it, Jericho was surprised at the likeness. He eyed himself, looking the clone up and down. It--or he?--did the same thing. He moved his arms, wiggled his fingers, shook his leg and the clone did so as well. The scientist said something about copying right? Well it sure was copying! You know, this was actually really cool, but as cool as it was, Jericho was beginning to catch on to the meaning of his words. How could you expect to win a battle if you couldn't beat yourself? How could you expect to win anything if you were too busy fighting yourself!? This was clearly the answer to the scientist's proverb. The path to greatness was not defeating yourself, but making peace or whatnot. Something nonviolent. If he punched, his clone would punch back. If he kicked his clone would kick back. If he never initiated he'd never have to fight! All these idiots rolling around on the ground here were completely missing the point! They were beating themselves needlessly! It just took a greater mind to catch on.

"We're not going to fight about this, right?" The clone didn't respond, of course. Jericho shook his head and the clone did too. He took that as a solid agreement. "Awesome." To seal their deal both Jericho and his clone raised their arms and connected their hands in a most satisfying and legendary high-five. Well that's great! Not only was he not going to waste his time trying to fight, but he got to high-five himself. Not those fake, sorry ones for lonely people. A real high-five. Jericho looked away from his clone and at the people who were punching and zapping and tussling with themselves. Well, if he was going to have nothing left to do he might as well watch these re-- F*ck! Jericho doubled over, hands and arms recoiling to his stomach which tensed and sent nausea through his system. Before he had the time to recover or even groan he was hit again, this time in the face. His head flew back from the impact, disorienting him. He stumbled back and fell to the ground, head spinning and in a lot of pain. His hands automatically went to his head and nose, both areas pounding. In front of him his clone laughed, though not a single sound came out. Man this guy was an *sshole.

Jeri got to his feet. Maybe the whole proverb theory wasn't exactly correct. It was clear now that the clones didn't do exactly what you did. They just did things that you did. If he was a clone and he tricked someone like that, well... He'd be laughing too! That didn't really give it an excuse to be an *sshole, though... The clone stopped laughing when Jericho rose, and instead, grinned mockingly.

"This could have been easy," Jericho said, scowling. "But you had to make it hard." He took two steps forward and swung, aiming to wipe that grin away. His punch was stopped abruptly by his clone's hand. Its grin turned into a smirk, holding on tightly to his caught fist. Jericho's eyes widened and then narrowed. He balled his free hand into a fist and swung it as well, but just as the first one it was easily caught by the clone. "Wha--" The clone jerked Jericho forward and kneed him in the stomach, sending him back onto the ground. He grimaced and held his stomach, feeling an intense nausea and the pain from the blow. Once again the clone did that stupid, silent laugh of his. It didn't attack and didn't make an advance to hit him more while he was down. He wasn't quite sure why. He would have taken the chance. Maybe it was too busy making fun of him. Jeri got to his feet again once he recovered and glared at the second Jericho. He was really starting to dislike this guy. The clone put on that mocking grin again, as if the whole task was, and would be, child's play. Jeri growled and swung again, and as before his fist was caught by his predicting clone. The clone didn't give Jericho a time to make a second swing. It balled its free hand into a fist and sent another blow to his stomach. Again the wind was knocked from his body. He gasped for a breath but another blow cut off his attempt. He grimaced and fell to his knees, hand still in the clutches of the clone.

G-Goddammit... What was with this guy and stomachs!? He didn't do this to people, right? This constant gut-blow thing. How was he even feeling this anyways?! The scientist said that they would be able to feel it, but how!? These things were holograms, right? And holograms were pixels, right? So when the hell did pixels start going to the f*cking gym!? Jericho coughed and looked up at his clone who looked down at him with a very malicious grin. The clone lifted its foot and gave him a hard kick to his face, sending him back. Jericho's hands went over his face immediately, eyes watering from the hit to his nose.

"Sh*t!" He yelled out, feeling a terrible pain in his nose. God be merciful if this thing was broken... The fight between the two Jerichos raged on like this. He would attack and the clone would block and deal its own blow (which usually ended up with Jericho on the ground). The back and forth getting up and starting over was taking its toll, especially along with the fact that he could barely get a hit on himself. He had been lucky to land a blow or two, but those times were only during spontaneous improvisation, and when he tried to do the move a second time, his clone seemed to have learned it just that quickly and, once again, he was back on the ground. If it weren't hard enough already, he had to dodge and weave through other fighting Syndicate members and, most notably, the random sprays of electricity coming from the body of Leon. When he first saw a display of his power, Jericho was most definitely surprised. It was pretty cool and lightening could definitely kill someone. The only problem with Leon's power is that... Well... He could definitely kill someone. With the bolts that missed and the ones that bounced off walls, it was extremely easy to get hit by these ultra-hot death beams. He'd come close to getting shocked to death at least five times by now, but had very little time to comment or complain past the advancements of his aggressive clone.

Jericho was slowly starting to catch onto the idea of this little session. "Learn how to mix it up," was the gist of the whole lesson. If he did the same things over he couldn't beat his opponent, but if he knew how to improvise and to make a new plan well... Just maybe. It was what Jericho had started to work on for the past ten or five minutes without much luck. It was hard to mix things up when you were exhausted and you couldn't think past the blood on your shirt. And he was bleeding, of course, and his nose still kept that terrible, long lasting pain like a night with the wrong girl. It didn't help that he'd taken several extra blows to the face. Once again Jeri was knocked to the ground by his clone, head spinning like it had been the last time he was punched in the face. He groaned, pain coming out of what seemed like every inch of his body. He thought to, maybe, just lay there for a while. His clone did this odd thing where it would actually wait for him to get up before it knocked him down again. Maybe it got this sick pleasure from seeing him try and fail. Either way, he didn't feel like getting up or moving. Maybe it'd get the hint and just back off for a second. Jericho stared at the ceiling of the training room, half wondering when the whole "End Training" buzzer would go off and the other half not thinking at all. A flash of white electricity zoomed past his sight. F*cking Leon... Can't you ju-- ... Wait, what was this f*cker doing? From below his sight he saw his clone step into view, looking down at him almost expectantly, which was odd, because the whole fighting experience it kept a stoic expression. As much as he wanted to tell it to go away, Jericho didn't really have the energy nor the enthusiasm to speak. It waited for him to rise but he was absolutely refusing, though silently. Apparently robots could run out of patience. The clone lifted its leg into the air without word. Watching it, Jericho's eyes widened and a short spark of adrenaline kicked his reflexes into high gear. He rolled out of the way before the clone's foot stamped down in the empty spot his groin once occupied.

"You a*shole!" Jericho yelled at it, immediately rising to his feet. Who the hell was teaching these things?! It hadn't gotten that from him! He'd never do that to a person! Right...? Well... Okay. Maybe. Probably. Possibly. It'd maybe come up in his mind. Subconsciously. I mean... Did he like the person? Was he getting his ass kicked? But still! This was himself he was talking about! When would he ever consider doing that to himself? Never! These clones had to be compromised. The clone wasted little time. It swung a punch, but thanks to his little rush, Jericho snagged a freebee and dodged out of the way of the attack. From the fight so far, the whole "they do what you do" thing sort of started to come to him. He just have to think of what he'd do next and then counter it, just like the clone had. Change up what he was doing...? F*ck that, this made much more sense. Why change it up when he could be just as much of a pain to the clone as it was to him? It was a nice seat of revenge. While the clone was being him, he would be the clone. The only problem? He was tired as hell. Jericho was sluggish from fatigue and he could hear his breath in his ears. He knew the punch was coming, but couldn't force himself to move out of the way. The first punch hurt, the second had him back on the ground.

He was bruised, beaten, and black-eyed, but he wasn't going to get a break. If he tried to stop his clone would just force him to start again. The thing didn't even get tired either. Beating him up hadn't brought a sweat to it, but maybe that's because it wasn't a person, just a floating orb thing. A robot. The only thing that really showed he had done anything remotely taxing was that its knuckles were red and scraped from constantly attacking and its clothes were stained with red from Jericho constantly bleeding. He wanted to quit, he really did, but that emotionless son of a b*tch was like a predator. It wouldn't quit. Jericho forced himself to his feet again, legs shaking.

"Well, come on ass-wipe." He said gruffly. The clone swung again and again, pounding his face and knocking him back. The last punch was the hardest, but he managed to stay on his feet. He tried to keep himself standing, but it was hard without stumbling time and time again. He felt dead, but forced himself to go on. Maybe because he hated this clone. Jericho narrowed his eyes when another one of those stupid lightening bolts flew between them. It went past in its own direction, not harming either of them. The clone watched it pass before turning its attention back to Jericho. He looked away from his clone and at the retreating bolt. It moved fast, of course, towards a luckily empty area. He expected it to hit the wall and blacken it, just like others before it. Jericho's eyes widened when the bolt, instead of phasing away harmlessly, bounced off the wall and went straight for him. He was too slow to move out of the way himself and, even if he wanted to, it moved like a bullet.

Jericho's body tensed when electricity entered him. Pain rushed through his body instantly, touching every inch of him as if a thousand needles skewered each individual cell. He screamed behind his teeth, paralyzed from the electric current going through his body. The pain began to subside after what felt like hours. No instant relief as if the current had traveled somewhere else, but a soothing disappearance, as if it were soaking away. The event had lasted forty-five seconds, maybe less. Jericho groaned, swaying where he stood. His visioned blurred and made double of everything he saw. A high-pitched ring went off his ears and he felt tired, sick, everything bad all at once. He could hear his heart beating right against his ear and his heavy breath clouded the possibility of anything else getting through, not that it mattered, the world sounded like it was underwater. His clone stood away from him, not moving because it was either confused on what to do or because it wanted to see if he were finally finished. He was finished, felt finished. He might not have had the energy to fall down. The only thing Jericho was fully aware of was little jolts that went under his skin. Cracks and pops like electric sparks made dim noise in his body and each time one went off he twitched or fidgeted. The little jolts crawled through him, traveling to one spot as if trying to escape. In moment the charge had completely congregated into his hand. The pent up energy was desperate to escape, building until another jolt went through his body, releasing it.

Jericho's vision cleared, his nausea disappeared, and the ringing in his ear subsided. He couldn't enjoy the relief, he was much too distracted by the electricity that shot out of his body and towards his clone. The clone itself was not ready for the apparent attack and made no move to dodge. The clone froze when the bolt hit and its image flickered and then disappeared, the golden orb falling on the ground with a metallic thud. Jericho panted hard, staring down at the orb on the ground. Wait... Did he just... Win? Heh. Heheh. Jericho smiled and laughed weakly, feeling pain as he did. It looked like it were true, but the joy of knowing just made the full weight of his fatigue fall down on him. He fell to his knees, more happy his ordeal was over than worried about his physical health. He felt tired, exhausted, on the brink of death, and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep. But he won. He didn't know how, wasn't going to ask, wasn't going to question. He would sleep victorious, a champion. That was good enough.

He dropped to his hands, still managing to make a small laugh come from him. He watched blood drip onto the floor. There was probably a lot of that everywhere. He grinned a bloody grin and closed his eyes, feeling dizziness come over him. What sounded like buzz started to go off. He looked up, fuzzy questions floating in his head. What was...? He made a face when the floor looked a little more empty than it had before. Turning his head up he could see why. The buzzing came from the orb that now floated in the air once more. It did nothing for a moment before an image began to materialize around it. The clear body of the clone reformed in a moment, glaring down at him with a hard stare. It was as if brand new, completely free of stray blood and knuckles completely unharmed. Its features, which were more or less neutral before, were now hostile, aggressive, and deadly in the gaze.

Jericho could only groan. Victory was only a memory now. The clone stepped in front of him, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him off his knees; stare not once faltering. The clone balled its hand into a hard first and pulled it back to punch.

Why did he agree to this...?

(I sincerely apologize for the length of this post as well as the time it has taken to make it. I did not mean to do this. I didn't know what to say (I know that's hard to believe, but when I run out of ideas I write more than I should), but that's not an excuse.

tl;dr: Jericho lost.)

Archie Stevens - Syndicate HQ

Breathless Archie stared at his clone. Round after round they had engaged each other and neither of them got the advantage. They both got a beating off the other but neither one was able to land a decisive blow, so the two of them would fight on getting more and more beaten up. Aside form some minor bruising Archie had a sore spot on his ribs where the clone had landed a kick. He wondered if his ribs were broken but he had no idea how he could find out. Once the clone had realised that he was hurt there it had started to target the spot, aggravating the pain. His clone wasn't faring much better, it had a bloodied nose from where Archie had managed to get a good right cross in.

He was about to run back in again to fight his clone but decided not too. His clone noticed his hesitation and hung back too wary of some kind of trap. Good that would give him a few more seconds to recover. If only there was some way to gain the advantage. He glanced round the room at the other Syndicate members. Some of them were already finishing their fights and most of them were fairing better than Archie had been. All of them had used their power to fight in some way though and that was where their fights had differed from Archie's. Well he knew that everyone except Jericho had and since neither he nor his clone was currently splatted against the walls, floor and people in the room he assumed that he had been lying about his power. Erica it seemed could greatly increase her leg strength, for some reason it reminded Archie of a frog. He turned his thoughts inwards for a moment.

What did his power do?

He could cut metal.

Could he cut anything else?

No, he didn't thinks so. He didn't get that same feeling that metal gave him.

What could he cut?

Metal.

Where was metal?

And then a light bulb flicked on in Archie's head. Well the light bulb wasn't in Archie's head and it didn't flick on. In fact it wasn't even a bulb it was a shade. He tried to hid his epiphany from his clone. He had realised that the room was lit by those long florescent strip lights. And around them were large metal shades, designed to reflect the light down into the room.

His clone was growing anxious by now, it was still uncertain if it was a trap but was trying to work out what Archie was planning. It knew the longer it gave him to think the more prepared he would be and he had no doubt that it would have some ideas of it's own to try.

Archie took a step towards the clone and so did it. Then taking a deep breath he ran at the clone, as though he was going to tackle it. The clone dodged aside and tried to hit Archie but he was already considering how it would counter this attack. He stepped over the clone's low kick to his knees and deflected a wild punch to the sore spot on his ribs. The clone threw two more strikes but Archie let them hit him as he grabbed the clones collar and kicked it's legs out from under it. The first strike hit him in the jaw and made his ears ring. The second, an uppercut under the chin barely scraped him.

He landed himself on top of the clone and dug his knee into it's side. The clone was ready for him, it trapped his leg and threw him off onto his back. Archie let the clone throw him off and used it's momentum to get a roll going. The clone realised what he was doing and thinking it was a trap continued the roll. As the world spun around Archie he monitored the lights. He would have to roll the clone some more.

Their tussle carried them until Archie was in position. As each one got in the top position they would try to stop the other throwing them off. Of course Archie wasn't trying. When they were under the fixture Archie stopped the clone as though he were pinned and attempted to throw the clone the other way. The clone stopped him and raised an arm to punch him. Archie raised his own arms to defend himself.

F**k! This was crazy.

Why hadn't he though about this before now but he had no choice he had to go through with it now.

He started to cut the light shade while pretending to struggle. It was harder than he had thought it would be. Fighting made it hard form him to concentrate and that made him slower at cutting. Every second or two he had to stop and defend himself from his clone throwing punches at him and he had to pretend he was fighting back. It was exhausting. Well he had half finished the job, one side of the piece he wanted to fall had been cut, except for a couple of small joints to stop it falling early. He continued to put up a fight until the other side was three quarters done. Then he gave up the pretence and concentrated on the shade to cut it faster.

His clone landed a couple of blows and Archie coughed up blood but it was concerned something was off. It stopped and looked at Archie. It would have been better off throwing another punch or two since they could have finished Archie off by this point.

From the roof there was a creaking sound and the clone looked up. A piece of steel a bout a meter in length began to fall from the roof. It fell quickly and the only thing the clone could do was lay down and cover it's head. The metal hit Archie's clone and the impact travelled through it hitting Archie like a ton of bricks. He was winded and his ribs hurt but his clone was much worse off. He laughed and reached to push the sheet of metal off him.

"Ah! S**t!" Archie swore, the metal was sharp and he had cut his left hand open. He recomposed himself and pushed the clone off. Then carefully moved himself out from under the metal. Holding his left hand with his right to stem the bleeding a little he began to walk away.

There was a noise behind him and he turned round, his clone was pushing the metal away and starting to get up. What was he made off! Archie looked at the metal on the floor and dived over to it.

The real fight was about to begin.

When he had cut his hand Archie had realise that cutting metal made it sharp. So this piece of metal was a weapon to both Archie and his clone. This fight had become a very different game. Archie was the first to act, he cut a strip of metal away. It was much quicker now that he could focus. His clone was only slightly behind him, the blood dripping from his hand gave it away. The clone walked over as Archie was cutting and began to cut a piece of metal too.

The metal was sharp, Archie knew that much, so he tore the arm off his jump suit to wrap around the metal. In about five seconds he had improvised himself a eight inch knife. The clone wasn't done yet so Archie spun around and use this opportunity to attack. He lunged forwards with his knife but the clone took a step back using his foot to slide a piece of metal away along the floor. Archie composed himself and slashed out, the clone dodge. And his knife broke. No it didn't break it was cut, his clone cut it in two and the blade flew off. Luckily there was no one in the way, it embedded it's self a good five inches into the wall. Archie was afraid what would have happened if it had hit some one.

Now it was his clones turn, carefully it picked up the scrap of metal from the floor and cut a needle like shape from it. It held it on the flat sides to avoid cutting it's self but Archie didn't give it the chance to attack he cut it as soon as it held the weapon up and the blade fell to the floor. He dived forwards as the clone began to cut another of the blades. He was in real danger of the clone shoving one of those points into the back of his skull right now.

He grabbed the broken spike, cutting his left hand again. Then with all the force he could muster he stabbed it into the clones foot. The attack caused the clone to recoil and wail silently in pain. It was rather disturbing. Taking the piece of metal he had still in his right hand Archie stood up and held it to the clone's neck. He knew it wasn't a real person so he slashed a jagged edge across it's throat.

And that was it. The clone collapsed on the floor and the hologram disappeared. Archie was more than a little hyped up and cut the orb in two before booting it across the room. Training was done. And he had learnt something new. It wasn't just metal that he could cut.

Nikolai Afon - AUP Headquarters

Nikolai smeared his pancakes with peanut butter, then dousing them in syrup, making a sticky yet delicious breakfast. The exhaustion from the training the previous night had taken its toll on him, leaving him no longer tired, but incredibly hungry. He forced himself to slow down his eating though, not wanting to be seen as a pig. Even so, the sticky peanut butter and syrup did a pretty good job that. As he looked around the cafeteria, Nikolai tried to get a look at and remember as many faces as he could. He had to wonder if there were normally these many people here. Prom what he had seen of the building, it was plenty large and could easily hold living and working quarters for the people gathered in the cafeteria. But Nikolai had assumed that most of the people working for the AUP would be out recruiting more members, or working on secret missions. So the number of people was a bit surprising. Even Atticus and Annie seemed a bit miffed about the amount of people in the room, looking around with a bit of confusion. Meaning that something had happened. Whether good or bad was yet to be seen.

"So, Nikolai," Helena said, turning to him. "Did you sleep well?"

The girl's question broke Nikolai out of his thought process. he drank some orange juice to clear his mouth and throat before replying, "Yeah! The sleep felt great, and the beds were comfortable too. Although considering how tired I was, I could have slept on a bed of nails and still woken up refreshed." Nikolai grinned. "Training was a bit...tiring. So how did your training go? I'm sure we still have a lot to learn about both our abilities, but hopefully some progress has been made?"

Helena turned her head as she heard something from the next table over. Nikolai didn't really catch what had been said, but it had certainly caught Helena's attention. "We can talk about training in a minute." Then, turning to Annie she asked, "Annie, is something going on?"

"I'm not sure," Annie looked around her, "but it must be important. It's not often everybody gets called in like this. Actually," Annie corrected herself, "it did happen a few days ago. The explosion in Berlin? Everyone was here when that happened. But that was all over the news. I didn't hear about anything this morning. Unless there's something really bad going on that would make the media be quiet about these kinds of things. Maybe Emil knows?"

Nikolai took out his phone and placed it on the table, before putting his palm over it, reaching out for his power. He quickly entered the device, finding it much easier to do so than previous. He quickly scanned a few major news sites before accessing a few lower level news networks as well, but could find little out of the ordinary. The smaller news networks were often more reliable than the bigger ones, the big networks mostly just telling people what they want to hear. "Well, the Nasdaq is up 2.83%, the "Best of Michael Jackson" CD information was released, and Miley Cyrus is apparently lesbian, but nothing big relating Atlanteans in general. Just lots of missing person reports."

Striding over from the other side of the cafeteria, Emil and Coopercame to their table. "Good morning, everyone! Did you all sleep well?" Emil asked, seeming to be in a good mood.

"Fine, thanks," Annie said, sounding a little annoyed, as if sleep was a waste of time.

"Yeah," Devon grunted.

"Yeah, good," Atticus said, giving a thumbs up."

Nikolai only nodded, his mouth once again full of peanut butter and syrup pancakes.

"Good, good, glad to hear it. Now, I have something important to show you all, so when you are finished your breakfast, please, come to the elevator!" And with a pat on Devon's shoulder, Emil and Cooper walked off to talk to some other group.

"Sounds like fun," Devon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well then," Nikolai said, moments after finishing his plate, "Perhaps we should go see what has been going on while we slept then. Something tells me we wont want to miss it."

Disclaimer: All news in this post is purely fictional

Christian Calaway, Antonia Costa, Chrysta Montague and River Beleren - Atlantean Mansion, Boston, England

Christian stood silent, glaring at Blayze Nalaar with his small cold eyes as Blayze himself, River and Chrysta engaged in a discussion about families and the lives they left behind. It was the second time she brought it up, clearly signifying it was important to her. A fair concern if there was ever one. Christian enjoyed a rocky at best relationship with his family and his roommates weren't that important to him. Really, Christian was only really concerned about Nicolas, his friend back in America. But Christian knew he would be fine. Leaving his past life behind would be easy, assuming that this was his life now. Though, part of him did not like this life. At least not yet. Looking around the room, it was becoming obvious. His eyes locked back on Blayze and he stared at him more until River motioned he and the other members of his team to follow her.

Christian followed River without a single word with Antonia in tow, though she barely kept up really. His stride was fast and angry as ever. A small fire was burning inside him.

"Christian…about Blayze…" Antonia said, trying to calm him down.

"What is there to discuss?" Christian scoffed at her unintentionally. "If Blayze Nalaar is perfectly fine with his operation failing, then who am I to judge?"

"Well, then we just have to do twice as well to make sure that it doesn't fail," Antonia said, catching up to him. "And with you as our leader, I am sure we won't fail," she continued before pecking him on the cheek. "Now come on. Cheer up. You shouldn't be so….brooding all the time."

Christian's face cracked a weak smile as he entered the gym. It was a fair size, large enough for his taste with basketball hoops suspended high above and other students working out. It was pleasant to say the least.

"Right, for today's exercise, it's simple. With Chrysta on my team, and Christian with Antonia on another team, we will play basketball. However, before you scoff, this isn't normal basketball. At either ends are hoops, higher than your average basketball hoop; you must get the ball between the hoops. The catch being; there are no rules or limits, so anything is game." River smiled a crooked smile, looking almost evil and menacing as if trying to throw off the competition.

"So, who's game?" She asked, spinning the ball on the tips of her index finger.

"I'm in," Christian said without hesitation. "But can I have a few minutes to plan with my teammate?"

"In a real battle, you may not get time to plan," River warned, "but seeing as this isn't a real battle, you have five minutes tops." River caught the ball in one hand and started to dribble it impatiently turning around to talk to Chrysta about their plan of action.

And to be fair, you would plan before going into any situation anyway," Christian whispered over to Antonia in which she smiled anyway. Maybe he could do better at this whole leader thing anyway. Christian stepped a few meters away from River and Chrysta, pulling out his smartphone, typing furiously. "What do you know about basketball?"

"A good amount. I played a few games here and there. I watch it too."

"Not since getting your ability right?"

"No, not really."

"Then here. Watch this video that I have on my phone," Christian said before shoving his phone into her face. Antonia looked shocked for a moment before smiling.

"A Michael Jordan video? Nice one," she said with a chuckle before watching intently.

"As far as the game is concerned. I'll run point for now. See how it works. No sense in getting ahead of ourselves." Christian let the time run until River called him over. He wanted to squeeze every second he could out of her. While Antonia streched out and and watched the last remaining seconds, Christian took off his jacket (to sweat less and give River less to manipulate with her own abilities) and practiced using his smoke, taking Thalia's lessons to heart.

"Okay guys, time is up. Let the game begin." River called, dribbling the ball back to the center line. After consulting with Chrysta over their tactics, River was now confident that they could pull off a win. She dribbled the ball at center court for a few seconds before running off to Antonia's side, with Chrysta a little way behind; Antonia being the seemingly weaker of the two.

Christian did not see the quick move coming, but was surprised that the would both go in the same direction. It didn't seem like a tactic he would use at least. But then again, this was a different game. One that super powered people played. Christian fired a smoke screen in the path of River's run and transformed into smoke, mingling into the cloud he generated. "You know," Christian said as a cloud of smoke. "Usually you check the ball before playing." Suddenly the smoke regathered in the from of Christian, with the ball in hand. He passed to Antonia in the center of the court, who caught with wide eyes before running past Chrysta to the other net.

Chrysta noticed River run into the smokescreen caused by Christian and held back noticing the tall man reform holding the ball while River continued on a few paces behind him, turning around in surprise. Chrysta ran after Antonia as she began to dribble the ball to the opposing net; Antonia's style quite similar to the pro's on TV.


She couldn't seem to catch up to Antonia who raced towards the other hoop, and watched in dismay as she dunked the ball in.

Antonia raced back to Christian after the dunk, which Christian was surprised she could do. Personally, he was expected a fancy layup, but he always admired dunk more than anything. Christian offered an out-streched hand for a high five, of which Antonia obliged and smacked hard, leaving Christian's hand a stinging red. Shaking it violently, he was ready for the next round.

"Good steal," she said.

"Better dunk."

River ran back to Chrysta, cursing slightly having fallen into that trick. With ball in hand, Chrysta returned with River back to centre court, ready for round two. Chrysta looked at River who nodded back at her; time to put their plan into action. River again ran with the ball towards Antonia's flank, with Chrysta running quickly behind; almost intending for the previous action to repeat itself.

"Deja vu," Christian mumbled. He was perplexed at the execution of the same play, but didn't think of it more than once. His last defensive play produced a point and you can't beat perfection. Christian launched himself as a plume of smoke at River again, splashing into a smoke screen before her eyes. Antonia, meanwhile, stayed glued to Chrysta, in case Christian failed. She didn't think he would.

Chrysta smiled as the play mimicked their last run in. Unlike last time, she followed River into the smokescreen, tapping River lightly on the elbow to let her know it was Chrysta. Once the ball was in her hands, Chrysta felt River launch herself out of her way so that Chrysta could work her magic.

Chrysta began spinning around in circles on one foot, her ability activating making her spin faster and faster until she was a miniature tornado. As she spun, the cloud of smoke around her began to disperse revealing her spinning form. The nature of her ability meant that Chrysta could overcome the dizzyness involved with spinning at such revolutions, but also that she could move somewhat in that state. However, her sight was blurred while spinning, so she made for the general direction of the opposing hoop, seeing River every so often to her side, knowing that she was going the right direction.

The half smoke, half solid form of Christian stood dumbfounded as his smoke trap was cleared out by the spinning tornado that was Chrysta. That was her power? Turning into a tornado? Impressed was one word for it. Shocked was another. Heading on a course for the net, Christian had no idea what to do. Smoke wouldn't do much to her, so traps were useless. A concussive shot could work, but he wasn't that skiled with them yet. She could probably cut down any wall he made. Crap, he thought. I can't think of anything to do.

Antonia slid into action, tripping up Chrysta with an extended leg. The spinning top came to a screeching halt as she crashed to the ground, the ball coming close and bouncing on the ground. Rolling on the ground, Antonia kicked the ball into Christian and River's direction.

River extended her arm, the ball barely touching her finger tips enough her her to alter it's course towards the opposing goal. With Christian hot on her heels, she darted forth, weaving so that Christian had no clear path that she was following before launching herself into the air, the ball sailing from her fingers towards the goal.

Chrysta high-fived River as the ball fell through the net; the two of them having successfully made a goal. Chrysta caught the ball and with a flick of her arm, sending it spiralling towards the shocked Christian. River was the first and only person she had revealed her ability to; overcome by how weak she seemed compared to the others around her.

Christian barely caught the ball, still a bit shocked at what happened. He didn't like giving up the point. He wanted his lead back. He wanted it back now. "Here. Dribble it up. Take a shot at the net. Don't worry about missing. I got the rebound," Christian said under his breath to Antonia. She nodded, though she didn't understand completely. Antonia lightly jogged to the center of the court, with Christian following close behind. Right as Antonia stepped on the center line, Christian launched a smoke cloud that consumed the entire side of the court, immersing himself into the dense cloud of smoke. The smoke reached high into the room, making it difficult to breathe for anyone who caught a whiff of it.

River cursed as she was engulfed in the acrid smoke produced by Christian, but Chrysta had her ability running once the smoke surrounded them, trying to diffuse the smoke particles, but only barely managing to clear enough for them to see in a two meter diameter around them. They couldn't run blindly into the thick smoke; it was too much.

Antonia could barely see the basketball through the fumes, but remembered the instructions. She readied a long range shot and fired away with near perfect form. However, given the obscured view of the basketball the shot was off and appeared to be destined to miss. However, the ball stopped suspended in midair caught by the smoke outline of Christian. In a fluid movement, Christian dunked the ball and slowly flew down the ground.

River heard the swish of the ball through the hoop and the gas cloud disappear as Christian and Antonia stood beaming under the hoop, ball under Christian's arm. Clapping, River called for time out, walking towards the side of the court where she had left four bottles of water.

"Good game, guys," she congratulated, tossing a bottle towards everyone and drinking deeply from her own.

Leo Archibald
Picadilly Square, London​

Leo let out a deep, slightly exhasperated sigh as he leaned back in the café chair, lifting both of his hand to rub his face tiredly as he shut his eyes for a few moments. The last week and a half had been completely and utterly messy, and he had had almost no control over it. Every time something happened he couldn't do anything about, he always felt so weak, useless and just wanted to bury himself away, far, far away from the problem.

Lowering his hands, he glanced out over Picadilly Circus in London, watching the various people stroll, rush or drive by. A multitude of different people and colours, which led Leo to thinking of why he had ended up here, of all places. He knew the answer, of course, but sometimes it was a good idea to look over the facts to see if you had missed something important. He huffed quietly to himself and lifted the cup of coffee sitting on his table, peering over at his two friends whom had gone with him on this vacation, sitting over by the statue in the middle of the square.

It all happened… about a week and a half ago. He had been at work when his right hand had suddenly begun itching. It wasn't a normal itch, it was… something more intense. He even had to step out of the kitchen in the restaurant he worked at, moving out in the alleyway to not cause any worry among the guests. He rubbed the back of his hand as it began burning, his teeth grit in slight pain.

And just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. He panted slightly and turned his hand around to see an odd tattoo that he'd never had before. It looked like a circle of waves, surrounded by fire and the entire thing was coloured a deep, almost aquatic blue. He tried using his nails to scratch it off, but it didn't even budge. He didn't think about it much longer and simply went back to work.

The next morning however, when he was reaching for the coffee pot in his apartment, one of the lamps suddenly emitted a crazily intense light, which blinded Leo, causing him to yelp and stumble backwards so both he and the coffee pot landed on the floor. Three more times did something like this happen in the span of five minutes, and he decided it'd be best to call in sick for the time being.

The upcoming few days, he spent trying to avoid any light, wondering what the heck was going on. He had noticed that every time it happened, the back of his right hand itched slightly, which made him study the tattoo a little closer. He had never been a person to get a piercing, tattoo or the like, so this was indeed really odd. He spent the days watching a bit of television, and this way, found out about the Atlanteans, realizing that this mark… made him an Atlantean. The next couple of days, he spent focusing with all his might on trying to stop the flashes of light from happening, with no clue how to. He did this in his bedroom, completely blackened with blinds pulled down in front of the window, and only a tiny flashlight lying on the floor.

The first tries didn't yield much success as the light just flashed at him, blinding him slightly. Oddly enough, the more it happened, the less bothered by the flashes he was. A week after the mark had appeared, he had been able to stop the light from flashing like it had, having a very basic control over his powers. He spent the next two days learning how to create said flash of light, from a lightsource, although the bigger it was, the easier it was to create. And even then, he could only make the flash appear from the light bulb itself.

He had kept calling in sick, because he didn't want to alert anyone at work about him being who he was, but the only two friends he had was a little more persistent. Jane and Alexander. Eventually, they marched up to his apartment, and he only barely managed to hide the mark as he peered out in the sunlight at them. They explained they were going to London for a week, and wanted him to come along, since he had been holed up in his apartment for almost two weeks, according to them. Leo figured it might be an easier way to escape going to work than just calling in sick all the time. He agreed to going with them, and planned to tell them about his heritage at some point during the trip.

And there he sat, at the café, contemplating where everything had gone wrong. He sighed deeply once more, frowning to himself. He just wished everything would go back to the way they were… easy. Not complicated. He had a good life, but he was unsure he could just… go back to it, with the mark and everything… but, then again. Why shouldn't he be able to? It's not like he had to tell anyone about him being able to create those flashes.

Stirring his cup a little, he stared thoughtfully into it. He was going to go back to Copenhagen after his week of vacation, go back to work, and act as if nothing had happened. Satisfied with this plan, he smiled and lifted the cup to take a sip of the warm liquid.

Garrett Flynn - London, England

Delta Mayor - London, England

Adeline "Otto" Russo, Natalia Zaytsev and Cira Gaile - Under the Vatican, Rome, Italy

Julian Morales - Piccadilly Square, London, England

Leo Archibald
Picadilly Square, London​

Leo's two friends seemed busy with taking pictures of each other in between running to the different few little shops around the square, which suited Leo just fine. It gave him time to sit and try and clear his head of everything that had happened. Every time he began thinking of something, it was very hard for him to stop, meaning that his mind would often get a little cluttered, which sometimes ruined his perception of what was going on around him, due to the constant images and words flying through his head.

He had learned to control it, at least to a certain degree, if he could simply sit and, more or less, meditate. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath of air as he tried to shut out everything around him, lifting the cup to take a deep whiff of the coffee's aroma, before taking a sip of it. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again, smiling a little to himself.

Sure, it was just a little too warm with his brown coat and the gloves, but it wasn't –that- bad. He was used to the temperature shifting insanely quickly back in Denmark, and had gotten himself used to wearing the large, almost winter jacket, just in case the weather turned awry.

As he sat and thought about this, he didn't notice the tall, black man stepping up next to his table and suddenly coming to a stop. This led him to jumping a little as he spoke, his heart giving a quick few thumps against his chest before looking up at the man and giving a slight smile, waving his hand dismissively. "Oh, no no, help yourself." Leo hadn't spoken to a lot of black people, but he didn't dislike them or anything. They were just other, ordinary people like himself.

He huffed within himself. "Ordinary" people like himself, yeah right. Shaking off the thoughts, he turned his attention to the man again, sitting kind of sideways towards the table to have a better view of the square itself. "Lovely weather out today, huh?" He had always prized himself of being a rather fluid English-speaker, but he couldn't help a slight bit of an accent to slip in here and there.

Archie Stevens - Syndicate HQ

As his training was finished Archie moved to one side of the room and watched the others train. There weren't many left, he was one of the last to finish. Did that say something about him, maybe that he found it harder to push himself beyond his own limits than some of the others, did that say anything about the limits of everyone's skills. He glanced up at the long glass window from where the scientists and researchers could view the training room, up there was Joshua watching the remaining few Syndicate members training. Had he been up there watching the whole time. Probably after all hadn't he said that was his job. Joshua would watch one person for a few seconds then his gaze would flick to another, over the course of a minute he would circle everyone training. As the last person dispatched of their clone Joshua spoke over a loud speaker system.


"Good training everyone, if you could please bring your orbs up with you and we will take a break. All of you who have battle scars, Doctor Phelps is waiting outside of the break room, his healing ability will be able to heal all superficial wounds before you grab something to eat in the break room." He announced.


"Ah! S#!t" Archie swore as he looked at the damaged wreck that was his training orb, that thing was likely quite expensive, why the hell had he broke it. He picked it up carefully, mainly because he had practically disembowelled it. Though it was cut in two there were still wires and odd bits of technical stuff joining the two halves. Trying his best not to cause any further damage to it he carried it up the stairs to the control room.


As he walked into the control room he glanced over at Joshua who was occupied reading statistics from a display. Good, he would be able to get rid of this ting without anybody noticing. As he walked across the room he held it in one hand as naturally as he could whilst still holding all the parts inside it. He was glad when he reached the table where he deposited his orb with the intact ones. Then he joined the queue for Dr. Phelps' office. As people came out of the office he noted how effective Dr. Phelps ability seemed to be very effective at healing up minor scrapes, Archie wondered what the limits of his ability were and if he could do anything for his ribs.


When it was Archie's turn to see Dr. Phelps he entered the room to be greeted by a very tall, very lean man. He smiled at Archie, from under his circular glasses and gestured for Archie to sit on a small bed of the kind found in well a Doctor's office.


"Please show me your wound's..." Dr. Phelps began to say as Archie sat down, he shuffled through some papers on his clipboard before stopping at one. "... Archie. My power is healing touch, so I will have you back out training again in no time." Archie began by getting his rib's healed as they were causing him the most pain. In order to do so he had to half take off the jumpsuit he was wearing. Dr. Phelps had Archie lie down and placed his hands on Archie's ribs. As Dr. Phelps closed his eyes a warm tingling sensation moved across Archie's torso. He held his breath instinctively as the feeling spread. Then it receded back into Dr. Phelps' hands leaving Archie feeling a lot better than before.


"Better?" Dr. Phelps asked as he opened his eyes, with a large smile on his face.


"Much better." Archie replied as he sat up and circled his shoulders to get used to the new found sense of well being in his ribs. Next Archie turned Dr. Phelps' attention to his hand. It was then that he realised he had trailed a river of blood all the way up form the training room.


"Oh!" Dr. Phelps said as he saw the cut on Archie's hand. This did little to reassure Archie as it is never a good thing when a doctor looks at you and says "Oh!" in the tone of voice Dr. Phelps had just used.


"What is it doctor? Can you heal it?" Archie asked more than a little nervously.


"Yes. I can fix it, no problem. It's just I've never seen a cut quite like this." He picked up Archie's notes again and darted his eye's back and forth between them and Archie's hand. "Hmm." He opened a draw and took out a pair of magnifying lenses that stuck to the front of his glasses. Then he examined Archie's' hand again. "This is quite a deep cut. And very clean too. However you did it you must have cut your self on something really sharp. You did this with your power didn't you." Archie nodded in response to his question. "Well it's left traces of metal in your hand, it wouldn't do you any harm to leave them there but my power will force them out anyway." Again Archie nodded. Dr. Phelps didn't wait for his response before healing Archie's hand. The rest of the time Archie spent in the room went much quicker and was much less eventful.


As Archie left the room Joshua took him to one side. "I just need to borrow you for a second," What. The only times in the past Archie had been taken aside like this were back when he was in school. He would goof off in class and get taken outside, often sent away to isolation. Well he had preferred it that way to be honest, in isolation he would finish his class work and any homework he had leaving him free to practice music when he got home. But still being called to one side had a connection with being in trouble with Archie. Wait a second the orb had his name on it.


"Is this about the orb?" Archie asked, in a frantic style. "Fletcher did it!" He lied, saying the first thing that came into his head. Well done Archie he applauded himself sarcastic in his head. You go and blame the five year old for breaking a few million pounds worth of equipment.


But wait, Joshua wasn't talking about the orb. In fact he wasn't talking at all just, well measuring Archie's hands. This must be the worse punishment ever unless he is measuring me up for thumbscrews Archie thought as Joshua finished his work.

"Thank you Archie," Joshua said wit a grin as Archie turned to leave. He headed through to the cafeteria to join the others. He was felling rather hungry, it must be all the exercise he was getting. He wasn't fat, really he was very slim but that didn't mean he was fit. If Archie continued working out like this though he would have to start getting fitter. His body wouldn't be able to keep up otherwise.


In the cafeteria he grabbed himself a cheese and ham panini with a side salad. He also got himself a glass of orange juice. Looking round he picked the table where Jeremy and Fletcher were sat.


"Hey. Mind if I sit here?" He asked taking a seat next to Jeremy. "Hi, little dude." Archie said to Fletcher before he began to eat his sandwich. After taking a few bites he turned to Jeremy. "So is he like your son?" Archie whispered to Jeremy, nodding in Fletcher's direction. It was just something h wanted to get cleared up.

Leon Nef- Syndicate Headquarters, Birmingham England

Nope, nothing. Leon expected the clone to get up one more time and try to attack him, but no such incident occurred. Instead, Leon sat there, staring down at himself, and tried to put the pieces together. It was a good training session, but there was something Leon realized in this whole fight. This battle was actually a lot easier than he thought it would be. He didn't really know if the others had the same experience. He didn't pay much attention to them until after his own clone was down on the ground. But for him specifically, it wasn't his hardest fight he had ever fought. That medal would have probably been reserved for the fight in the forest on his first day here. In this fight, it was all about adapting what you thought you knew about yourself, and changing it up to something new. This is what puzzled Leon. If this really was a clone of himself, would he have expected that as well? Wouldn't he have adapted in the same way and try to take the real Leon off guard? Or was its capabilities simply limited to the exact form of what Leon was the second he was copied, and the clone was simply incapable of learning anything new? Perfect replicas as they may have been, there seemed to be something missing about them that separated them from the real forms. What was it?

Leon turned to see the finale of the Jericho clone fight. He had just defeated his own clone (with a bit of help from Leon's own ability). Jericho let out a small painful laugh in his victory. Leon said nothing as he observed this and attempted to figure out the real reason they were all eventually ending up winning. Some of them won by a larger margin. Others had closer calls. What was it that really separated them so much from that which is said to be an exact replica of oneself? Was it something missing inside of the clones, or was it something extra inside of themselves that the clones could never have? There was one thing Leon noticed missing in his fight with himself. The clone never spoke a word back, nor did he have Leon's signature ticks or mannerisms. So was that it? The true tiebreaker of a fight with oneself is the simple personality you may have? The very idea of thinking that that had any factor into a fight seemed a bit ludicrous, but if not that, then what? Was it something deeper? Something so unknown and incomprehensible?

Joshua Meier said in the beginning of the training that their biggest enemy is their self, and that one cannot expect to win every fight if one cannot even win a fight against themselves. Leon began pondering his words, and wondered if he, or anyone else in the Syndicate for that matter, had any idea what they were talking about. Did they really expect them to believe that they have just defeated themselves? What they fought was virtual copies, and nothing more. A key part of them were taken out. Something that couldn't be added into circuits and wires.

"There is only me." Leon said to himself out loud as he stood up, beckoned by the call of Joshua from above. The clone was fit back into the orb, and Leon snatched it up, walking up the stairs above. Joshua made a congratulatory speech of how well everyone's training went. Leon didn't bother to listen much to it, his mind still thinking about the exercise before. He dropped his orb off as instructed, and proceeded to the one called Dr. Phelps. Leon was relatively silent during the entire examination and healing process, not bothering to speak as he continued to contemplate the entire purpose of the exercise. If it was this plainly seen, then the point of it was just as important as any other training he had or would have. It was simply to increase his own capabilities on a physical level. Leon hoped to get something more out of the exercise, but given the conclusion he came to, he didn't think that this would be the case.

Leon grunted as the doctor began healing a point on his body where the clone had hit him with lightning. As if all at once, the pain momentarily came back to him, realizing just how injured he really was. Perhaps when one's brain is preoccupied with so much attention on something else, pain can be temporarily blocked out. Leon shook his head, realizing what he thought before was a bit wrong. The training was in no way easy. It was simply that the primary standard for comparing events would always be his first one, where he went up against four other Atlanteans and killed them, almost dying himself in the process. But the fact of the matter was that this training exercise against himself was still hard. His bones aches, and his muscles were tense. His side hurt from an impact he took from the clone, realizing how damn strong his own attacks were. He supposed it was a good learning experience. Better to have experienced ones own abilities first hand then to naively will it upon others. He could truly know what they would feel now whenever he would fire them upon them later in life. He moved away from the doctor as he took care of his injuries, and proceeded silently into the break room, where he casually walked over to the refrigerator there and scoured the box for…pears. Apparently, someone didn't take the hint. They were around in the morning, but none appeared to be present now.

"Merda…Can someone please take a hint a f***ing put pears in here next time?! It's not too hard. Pears: green juicy fruits. Look like fat apples. Put them f***ing in!" He reached in and grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and slammed the door shut, walking to the far side on the room and leaning on the counter, silently eating his apple. He wished he would have saved some of his pears from the morning. Archie began making conversation with Fletcher and Jeremy, but Leon didn't want to hear much about it. He never was much a fan of small talk. He was still preoccupied by the disappointment with his training. He seemed to have overestimated the Syndicate. He thought they were more than what they appeared to be. He was in this most for the money, but secretly, he wished it could be about much more than that. He thought with this training, he could uncover something else about himself, something he didn't know before. All he found out was that the clones were not themselves. They were copies. They were incomplete. Imperfect.

Imperfect.

A lightning bolt seemed to travel straight to his brain as if he was able to make something out of all this. He shook his head and chuckled a bit to himself, walking to the end of the break room and looking out at the control room in from of him. He laughed out loud as he looked around at the scientists and others on their computers, and Joshua fiddling with some of his own things. Perhaps Leon underestimated the Syndicate quite a bit. Leon wasn't just fighting the clone, but he was fighting himself on the inside, fighting the urge to be himself. He altered who he thought he was in the battle, and therefore opened more doors that otherwise could have remained closed, well, forever. He realized in this instance that who he was and what he can become is so much more than what he thought. He was imperfect, and by fighting the Leon clone, he was figuring out how to be more. The biggest enemy you would have to face is yourself, because only your thoughts and emotions, your tendencies and actions can prevent you from being better.

He continued to laugh to himself as he returned inside the break room and sat down in a chair, putting his feet up on the table. He looked at everyone else in the break room.

"There is only me." He said out loud, looking at everyone else in the room while taking a satisfying bite of his apple.