Chris and Malcolm stood face to face in the alleyway outside the Lion Inn. The sky was starting to darken. All around them stood the rest of the Obsidian kids. The atmosphere was electric, the tension between Malcolm and Chris palpable.
Chris knew he only had one shot at this. If Malcolm beat him again in front of everyone then he’d never win their respect and take his position as leader. But he was also aware that the powers that had come to him so far were in their infancy. He had no idea how to really control them, or what they even did. Besides melting things and being able to move more quickly, he had no idea what powers the universe had actually decided to imbue him with. Malcolm had already bragged about his own atomic specialism, which was supposedly the strongest type a seer could have. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight. But Chris was determined. And what he lacked in powers he certainly made up with in experience. He had thirteen years of bullying under his belt, after all, whereas Malcolm looked like the kind of wimp who’d spent his whole childhood on the receiving end of torment.
Between them stood a ginger-haired girl. She was taking on a referee role.
“The rules are as follows,” she said, projecting her voice so all the Obsidians could hear. “Anything goes! That’s it. One rule.”
Chris met Malcolm’s glare. His eyes were fixed on him. He glared right back.
“On the count of three,” the girl cried. “One! Two! Three! Let the duel commence!”
Malcolm moved at lightning speed. One of his invisible bindings gripped Chris about the arms, squeezing them into his middle. It felt like a python had hold of him.
Chris knew that his powers seemed concentrated in his hands. Wriggling his trapped hands upward, he was just able to grasp hold of the magical ropes he could not see. Malcolm winced in pain as Chris gripped hold of the ropes. They melted away in his hands. He was free.
Chris charged, taking the split-second opportunity he’d gained. He knew he had to get his hands on Malcolm if he stood any chance of winning.
Malcolm jumped to the side but Chris reached out and grabbed his sweater. The threads went up in flames, burning a fist-sized hole in Malcolm’s uniform.
Everyone cheered.
Malcolm looked down at the scorch mark, furious. “How dare you!” he bellowed.
He came at Chris, hands bared, and got him round the throat. Using his powers to help, he pushed him up against the wall of the alleyway. Chris dangled there, several feet above the ground. He tried to lash out with his arms but Malcolm had pinned them against the wall too. There was no way he could move.
Malcolm’s eyes bulged with menace as he stared evilly at Chris. Chris had never seen such hatred and rage. The boy was a psycho, he could see that now. Malcolm wanted to actually kill him.
“Malcolm…” the ginger girl said from behind.
“You said anything goes,” Malcolm replied without missing a beat.
“But this isn’t a fight to the death!” the girl screamed.
Chris gasped for breath but couldn’t get in even the smallest amount. He felt his life draining out of him. He thrashed and tried as best he could to make physical contact with Malcolm. But when he finally freed a hand and grasped him, he discovered he had nothing left. The small amount of powers he’d been imbued with seemed to have run out completely. All that happened now was a fizz coming from his palm.
Malcolm laughed.
This was it, Chris thought. He’d messed up his one shot to take down Malcolm. And now he was going to die.
Blackness seeped into his vision.
“Malcolm!” the ginger referee cried again.
Just as Chris was about to lose consciousness, Malcolm finally let go.
Chris slid to the floor and took a huge gasp. He lay there in a heap as oxygen flooded his starved body.
“You’re playing dirty,” he heard the referee girl say to Malcolm.
“I’m using my strength,” Malcolm shot back. “That’s what the duel’s about.”
Chris wanted to get back up and keep sparring but his body felt like shattered glass. He just managed to get on all fours when, suddenly, heat raced through him like a red-hot lava. It was more intense than his usual fury. In fact, he felt like he was getting hotter and hotter.
“Look!” someone yelled.
Chris glanced down at his hands and saw steam was coming off them. Then a pain like none other lanced through his entire body. He screamed. A black light burst from his mouth.
The Obsidian students gathered around him in a circle, watching with expressions of alarm.
“A black light!” someone cried.
“But that can only mean one thing,” another said.
“His specialism is nuclear!” a third gasped.
Chris screamed until he’d run out of air in his lungs. Then the light shut out and he fell forward, landing on his face in a cold puddle of rainwater. He curled into a ball, feeling like every nerve ending was on fire.
Silence fell.
Chris lay there, letting the cold water cool his searing skin. Then the pain started to ebb away. Where his hand lay in a puddle, he noticed that the water was starting to hiss and bubble like toxic waste. Could this be the nuclear specialism he’d overheard someone mention?
He pulled himself to sitting. In the place where he’d lain there was now an outline of his body. The ground beneath was melting and giving off noxious fumes.
“It’s true!” someone cried. “He’s nuclear!”
“But there hasn’t been a nuclear in centuries,” someone else stammered.
Chris could hear the awe and fear in their voice.
“I heard it was banned,” a third whispered.
The more Chris overheard in their whispers, the more powerful he felt. By the sounds of things, he’d been given an extra special power. A rare one. A potentially very dangerous one. It must be a better power than all these wimps put together by the way they whispered with awe. Mistress Obsidian must have seen how special he was to have given him such incredible strength.
Finally, he got to his feet, surprised to find his body no longer feeling battered but strong. He turned to look at his sparring partner. Malcolm’s eyes were wide with terror. Talk about poetic justice.
Chris held up his hand and saw green toxic goo covering them. He grinned. “Shall we carry on our fight?”
But Malcolm seemed to have lost all of his resolve. In fact, Chris could see that he’d started to tremble.
Chris let out a loud bark of a laugh. “Or are you too scared?” he challenged.
Malcolm seemed too shocked to even speak. “No…” he stammered.
Chris leapt on the opportunity to draw attention to his weakness. He looked at the Obsidians.
“Is this who you want to follow?” he sneered. “This pathetic, sniveling wretch? This coward who’s too afraid to finish our duel now that he’s discovered my specialism is nuclear?”
“I’m not too afraid,” Malcolm said in a wholly unconvincing voice.
The Obsidian kids watched Chris with rapt attention. He knew he had them now.
“Or,” he bellowed, “do you want to follow me? Someone who not only has strength through his powers, but is physically strong as well? Someone who can fight hand-to-hand combat, and who’s mentally strong enough to finish what he’s started?” He directed the last scathing comment at Malcolm.
The group began to cheer. Then they started chanting.
“Chris! Chris! Chris!”
A grin spread across Chris’s lips. He looked at Malcolm, whose face was a picture. He’d lost his spot as leader. Chris was ready to take his rightful position at the throne.
“Good,” Chris snapped. “Then it’s settled. Now let’s stop wasting time. We have a mission to complete. It’s time to destroy Oliver once and for all.”