TWENTY-FOUR

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A seething inferno swelled around Troy's fist as he rapidly extended his forearm. The seams on his pyro-gloves proceeded to emit a radiant, orange glow as a high-pitched whine sprung from them. The sound mimicked that of a defibrillator in movies.

A ferocious ball of flames sprouted from his fingertips as he outstretched his palm, registering the surge of heat overtaking his hand. The blazing sphere of fire rocketed towards the holographic, rotating target.

At that moment, Troy swiftly closed his fist as the orb of flames detonated, disintegrating the target, as well as the other two targets beside it. He cockily smiled to himself, definitely pleased with how skilled he'd grown with his abilities.

Dr. Matthews hadn't been lying. Those gloves of his definitely enhanced the boy's pyrokinesis. Back in the lounge, when he'd first discovered his abilities, he could barely control a flame the size of his pinky finger.

Now, however, he could manipulate the thermal energy around him, conjuring a flame out of what was essentially nothing. He could even detonate a flame on command.

He'd also learned to form small flames around the outside of his hands, functioning as makeshift boxing gloves. They protected his fists from high impacts while simultaneously allowing him to hit as hard as he wished.

Perfect for taking down Steel.

He looked over his shoulder at the transparent, thick sheet of graphene separating the Battleground from the Infirmary. Bianca was still getting bandaged up from the beating she'd received from Amber.

He had to admit, he was proud of the girl for sticking up for herself. He'd noticed that Bianca had been giving the girl a hard time, but he hadn't stepped in or said anything. After all, he had his own inner demons to face. The memories of his father.

Back in New York-Queens, to be specific-Troy had worked as an auto body mechanic in his dad's crappy repair shop. It was the first job he'd ever had, and by far his least favorite. He probably would've enjoyed it more if it wasn't for his father constantly yelling at him.

Every minor inconvenience was automatically blamed on Troy. He had to earn his own father's love and respect, and it's not like his mother would do anything about it. After all, every time she attempted to intervene, the man would beat her along with his son.

That's what had given him his rough exterior. He'd gotten so used to being beaten whenever he did something wrong, that he'd begun to do the same thing others and hadn't even realized it until now.

He'd become just like his old man, and he needed to change. He couldn't be like that monster any longer.

As he walked off the sparring mat, intending to go his room to clear his head, Kai walked into the Battleground, sharpening his sword. The two young men gave each other a quick, cold glare before darting their eyes to their original positions.

Kai noticed the guy's facial expression. Something was troubling him, and even though he didn't necessarily consider the guy a friend, he knew that nothing could be distracting them from uncovering Elias' true scheme.

Even though they were rivals, they'd eventually have to stick together one of these days, and that day was getting closer.

"Wait, Troy." Kai began, turning around as he directed his gaze to the back of Troy's head.

"What?" Troy hissed, swiftly turning around in case Kai was looking for a fight. After all, the guy did have his sword on him. "What is it?"

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