I belched yet again, crumpled up the empty Monster can in my hand, and tossed it over the kitchen's island, landing it perfectly into the heap of food remains that we had yet to clean up. I rolled my neck and frowned.
"Okay, I don't know about you guys, but I have to change out of my fight suit." I groaned, pulling the zipper that led the leather jacket all the way to my chin down. The others mumbled their agreement and we all drifted off to our rooms, eager to escape the confines of what we had dubbed "fight suits".
Once safely locked in my room, I started to wriggle out of it. My fight suit consisted of four pieces, clothing wise: super tight black pants that moved and breathed as if they were thin cotton pajama pants, an equally tight black camisole, soft and worn black leather boots that climbed to my knee with countless silver buckles wrapped around them, and my leather jacket.
My jacket was flipping awesome. It was made of jet black leather that hugged my body, but gave me enough room to pull stunts and fight. It had, of course, the neck zipper, so if I wanted to relax, I would leave it unzipped, or if I had to be protected, zip it up all the way. The other zipper led from my right hip to my left shoulder, and then down that arm. I had long since figured out how to twist out of it.
The first time Director Quick, the director of our department, had suggested fight suits, it had not gone over well. Mostly because she had been suggesting leather catsuits. Cue flashback.
"What?! No! That's.... no!" That was Ashton, who was taking the floor first. He promptly began ranting about how catsuits were horrible garments made from illegally acquired animal products and how she wouldn't get him in one for every redwood tree in the world. He sealed his opinion with a threatening promise that bows worked just as well close range as they did long.
From there, Jesse began screaming about how plain inhumane it would be to force two boys of their "form" into leather catsuits. He was the worst swearer of all of us; we were all pretty bad, but had nothing on Jess. He was practically shouting oaths every three words. He threatened to completely sever all ties to the government- Lord knows we had the funding to.
Thorne took over there, attacking the more media related aspects. "Do you have any idea how plain stupid we would look? I am not wearing some 1990's fad!" She continued yelling in the same fashion for quite a bit, scaring the daylights out of Director Quick.
I was next, and I think I pretty much sealed the deal. I slammed my hands on her tabletop and deathglared her until I spoke. "Dear GOD, Mom! Catsuits?! It would be impossible to fight in that thing! Impossible!" I shrieked more about the practical reasons than personal preference until my mom- that is, Director Quick- said, "Alright! Fine! We'll get you ones that you choose!"
So I had gotten my suit. Jesse's was pretty sweet too; black straight cut jeans, a tight black tee with the sleeves ripped off at the shoulder, and a black leather cloak. Ashton had received lightweight black pants, a black shirt with elbow length sleeves, and a pair of simple black boots. It was a simple, but effective, outfit. Thorne had gone all out: super tight black leather pants, a long sleeved, equally tight black t- shirt with a neckline that displayed her collarbone, all black, knee high Converse, and a hooded simple black jacket, nothing like mine.
Of course, all that didn't include the weapons she had tucked in here and there. Two guns, one on each hip, a knife strapped to her leg, and her staff tied to her back. I had my sword in its sheath and a gun strapped to my thigh. In times of danger, I would resort to snatching up Thorne's knife. Ashton had two knives (not that he ever needed them) and his bow and arrows. Jesse carried his doubleblade, and that was it. Some call it brave.
I call it stupid.
I mean, the boy's a good Keeper- how else would he have gotten picked for the team?- but that idiot is so... gah. I knew he was perfectly capable, but sometimes he got overconfident. Tried things he couldn't pull off. Like attempting to put me in a headlock when he knew I could just as easily flip him flat on his back, possibly cracking a rib or two, or trying to win an argument with Thorne. Hint: the odds are more probable that you'll get hit by a hovercar while juggling pineapples while wearing a sombrero.
And god, I hated that he went in with no backup weapon. For some reason I could never fully grasp, I was always terrified that something would happen to him if he lost his only defense. Which is partially why I had fiddled with it so that he would never lose it. The other part was that he had bet a hundred dollars that I couldn't. I never let him live that down.
Well. Back on topic, then. I hung my jacket up and kicked my boots across the room and half ripped, half peeled my cami off, replacing it with a nice, baggy t-shirt with the words "DON'T MESS." printed on it. I walked back out to the kitchen, shaking my hair out on the way, and grabbed another six pack of Monster. I dropped onto the couch, flipped on the TV, and began steadily draining the first can. Jesse came in, grabbed yet another slice of pizza, and fell onto the couch- laying directly on my legs. I crumpled the can and tossed it in his face.
"Move, Blondie." He wiggled.
"There. I moved."
"You know, you are an absolute idiot sometimes."
"I know."
"Alright. Correction. Relocate your body before I tell Ashton you wear the pelts of chinchillas."
"Jeez, alright! Don't have to be so harsh, Monster Vampire!"
"Meh."
Jesse grunted something unintelligible and scooched over to the far side of the couch. I smiled, but it had nothing to do with the comedian on screen. Thorne walked in, looking much less vicious (I didn't let my guard down, though), smiling her perfect little face off, and curled up on the floor by my legs. Ashton did a somersault out of the hall down which our rooms were and cartwheeled into his chair. No one else sat there for fear of what materials had been dumped there.
I gave up trying to maintain good posture and laid down across the couch, my head on the armrest opposite Jesse. I sipped another bit of Monster and looked at the clock. 5:37 AM. Another few hours and it would officially be daytime, and we could finally sleep. Nightmares never attacked during the day, so we were free of any duties we had as Dreamkeepers. I closed my eyes. Sleep... mm.... sounded... good....
"SPARKY!"
"What?! What happened? Where's my gun?" I bolted upright, hand reaching out to a weapon that wasn't there.
"It's eight AM. We can go to bed now." Jesse said, fighting back laughter. I grunted something along the lines of "oh, thanks" and stumbled into my room.
At any other time, I would describe my room in great detail, but right then, I was exhausted enough to hug a cactus and think it was Thorne, no pun intended. All I can say then was that there were band posters everywhere, a sleek brushed chrome desk in one corner with an immensely fun purple and white cushioned spinny chair, my vivid purple and silver laptop on the ground, and a dark wood queen sized bed with purple satin curtains around it. I crawled underneath the black comforter and fell asleep, directly into a dazzling dream.
Like every other Dreamkeeper, my dreams were meticulously structured and planned. This time, I was back at the Institute, training to be a Dreamkeeper. Only four were chosen for each pack, and we were told that another group wouldn't come along until the team from our crowd had retired. I was barely thirteen, but at the top of our group. We were nearing decision time, and hopefuls were dropping like flies, especially during drill sessions like this one. The rules were simple: fail to finish, and you're out. For good.
It was push ups this time, getting progressively difficult. I was next to Jesse, determined to beat him out. He had been my only competition since this whole thing started, and I was incredibly competitive. "One arm!" Sergeant Miller roared. I twisted my right arm over my back, the muscles in my left arm trembling. I smirked as I saw Jesse's arm trembling just as much. Several children cried out and fell to the mat. Only a dozen left.
"Kick ups!" I remained expressionless and rolled onto my back. "GO!" I started with all the power in the world, keeping it up throughout the round. The goal was to get to your feet by rippling your lower body. I was extremely good at it, and so was Jess. A few more people groaned and crawled off our massive training mat.
And we four remained. Sergeant started clapping. "Kids, meet your new Dreamkeepers!" I fell to my back, closing my eyes and sighing with relief.
It was over.
I opened my eyes and was met with the sight of Jesse beaming and holding out his hand. I took it and hauled myself up. "Thanks."
"No prob, Sparky."
I didn't realize it, but as I heard his voice, warm and light, call me Sparky for the first time, I smiled in my sleep.
I woke incredibly refreshed, at a healthy time of 4:26 PM. I would've slept longer, but we had a conference with Mom today, and I did not want to make her upset. Besides that, we had a press conference, photo shoot for the Daydream, a popular magazine, and an interview. Tonight was one of the few nights we didn't have to hunt Nightmares; we had wiped out all the ones we were responsible for, and they weren't coming back for a while.
And yet, sometimes doing -insert shudder- media oriented stuff could be just as scary as fighting a dozen Nightmares at once.
