The Telekinetic

Chapter Four

"Did you really call telekinesis nothing interesting?!"

Zane sighed. They had left the scene before the three stooges regained consciousness. They were now approaching a magnificently crafted cobblestone building that Rick indicated was the location for their current class.

"Depending on your perspective, it really could be nothing interesting," Zane replied, already dreading the conversation.

"Wrong! No sane person would think telekinesis isn't amazing. I mean you can move things with your mind, do you know how insane that is?"

Zane couldn't refute that logic. He felt a certain undeniable exhilaration making those bullies bend to his will. This was the type of power people got drunk on in the many comic books he had read.

"What's your power then?" Zane asked, eagerly searching to change the subject away from him. "The ability to get beaten up and get back up again?"

Zane was only half joking. From what he'd seen Rick had been used as a human punching bag by Mohawk and Green Eyes, and yet, he'd been back up with his wounds healed by the time Zane had knocked them out.

"I have a healing factor. Well, every meta does but mine is more powerful than the average," Rick replied. Zane noticed he didn't seem very enthusiastic when describing his ability.

"Hence the punching bag occupation?" Zane didn't like prying into people's business but it was clear being Rick's roommate directly affected him. He needed to know the type of person Rick was to know what to expect. "You didn't even try to fight back. Did you purposely rope me in back there, hoping I would be powerful enough to save you? Or perhaps you planned the whole thing to learn what my power was."

"Jesus," Rick exclaimed, looking more than a little offended. "What type of upbringing did you have? I'm not some evil manipulator. I didn't know they would choose today of all days to attack me. They do it when they think of some new moves to try out, and as you said, I'm pretty good at being a punching bag." He let out a frustrated sigh, "at least until I develop another ability."

"What makes you so sure you will?" 

"I'm preparing my vessel diligently," he replied, flexing a toned muscle. "It's only a matter of time before it all pays off."

"So blind hope then." Rick stopped at a weird-looking machine with plastic cups on top of it. "So your plan is to get beaten up and hope the emotional response to being rag-dolled lets you start breathing fire?" Zane added.

Rick shrugged as he picked up one of the plastic cups. "I guess I haven't thought that deeply about it. I just thought of it as training my healing factor and pain tolerance."

Zane was glad Rick was turned away from him so he didn't see the look of disgust that he knew was draped across his own face. Rick sounded like a coward who was afraid to fight back. That didn't sit right with Zane at all. "Right. Why is fighting in the open allowed? I'd figure there are security measures in place to monitor the petty criminals that end up here now that they're juiced up with superpowers."

"Good point. I don't know why, but it has been a thing since before I was sent here. It's why people travel in groups, so that they won't become a target for eager superpowered delinquents looking for test dummies."

"And I take it you like being a target?" Zane replied, watching in fascination as Rick pushed a button and placed his cup under a dispenser which a caramel brown liquid flowed out of. 

"I think it's lame to travel in packs," Rick replied before pausing to take a sip of the beverage.

"But not too lame getting beat up?" Zane nodded at the cup. "What's that?"