Turning Point

The beating of the music was pulsing through his whole body. The lights flashed rapidly, bouncing off the walls and reflecting across the room. It was all too much. He was going to be sick. Pushing rather forcefully through the crowd of dancers, he made his way to the garland draped balcony door, weaving around circular tables which had been moved back to make room.

The crisp December air was like a splash of water across his face. He breathed in deeply, relieved to be freed of the sweaty and humid musk. As the door swung shut, the music disappeared, and he was left with only the soft thumps of the bass beat. Moving towards the railing, he wondered why he had come here in the first place. He never liked parties. Or loud music and blinding lights in a room full of perspiring, half-drunk teenagers.

The view from the top floor of the hotel was beautiful. The city's skyline was lit with soft glowing edges and twinkling windows, shining up into the cloudless sky. He folded his arms on top of the white guardrail and slumped over it, staring down below. Cars passed through the narrow lane occasionally, probably on their way back from a Christmas party. The light coming from the windows of a restaurant disappeared. A short woman walked by and entered the hotel, accompanied by an equally short man.

For a few minutes, the boy on the balcony just stood and watched the lazy night pass by, glancing up periodically to watch his own breath swirl away into the near-black atmosphere. He turned around and leaned back against the rail guard, stretching his arms across it as far as they would reach. He bent over backwards, now staring at the tall buildings upside down. Closing his eyes, he carefully tensed the muscles in his legs and lifted them off the ground. Breathing deeply and steadily, he continued raising them until they were vertical, pointing straight up to the sky. Finally, he stopped once they were parallel with his upper body. All of his muscles were shaking with the effort, but he didn't mind. He loved to contort himself into all sorts of positions and just stay in them and think. About anything really. How his day had been, whether or not he should study for the calculus exam coming up in a month, or if society was corrupt enough for it to deserve all the pain it was currently suffering.

Once his balance reached a complete equilibrium, he opened his eyes again. No matter where he did this, the view always seemed to be mesmerizing. Or maybe it was just the thrill of taunting luck and death, pushing ever closer to his own demise.

"Don't fall over."

The boy almost did fall over, as he jerked in surprise to the unexpected voice. A wave of adrenaline swept through his body causing his palms to sweat, even against the cold rail. He quickly recovered from the shock and swung his legs back over onto the solid ground.

"Laan!" The boy glared furiously at the dark skinned man standing a foot away, smiling in a satisfied manner. He was dressed as usual with a dark brown trench coat covered in pockets. A simple grey t-shirt was visible underneath the unbuttoned duster jacket, and his black jeans were held up with a thick belt, embossed with a huge tiger head buckle. "Why do you keep doing that? Are you trying to kill me?"

Laan chose to ignore him, instead surveying the boy. "So you've learned the Cannon Stretch." The man turned away, withholding a laugh. "Except you looked more like a hanged-Scorpion-with-a-broken-back."

The boy scowled and folded his arms. "Oh, you shut up. I've only just started practicing that one. Instructor Trou said my Inverted and normal Scorpions were the best in the class."

"The best in your class. Need I remind you," he said matter-of-factly, turning back to the boy, "that 4F has the lowest averages in the whole academy?"

"Y...Yeah, well my average is higher than yours was! And Trou says I might be transfered to 4D next term."

Laan turned to face the boy again, a disbelieving smile on his face. "Okay, whatever you say, little boy."

"Oh you be quiet. I'm just as capable, and... mature as you are!" There was nothing in the world more annoying and infuriating than hearing Laan call him a boy. Sure, Laan was technically a "man", but he was only two years older than him.

"Uh-huh. So capable and mature that you would be given this?" Laan reached his right hand to the side of his belt, pushing away the folds of his jacket and revealing a gun holster. From it, he pulled out a thin, silver pistol, etched with blue and green swirls. He cocked the gun and pointed it upward, his index finger tapping the trigger lightly.

The boy's green eyes widened in surprise. "What...? A Firefly? How the Hell did you get that?" Firefly weapons were only given out to students who showed leadership and commitment until a goal was achieved.

"You didn't know I had it? What, you thought I was still using that old Killer Bee?" He stopped for a moment and smiled. "Good times," he whispered, nodding his head and agreeing with himself. "Right, so, I won it, 'bout a week ago, from the Headmaster. I didn't like the way our ammunition wasn't funded by the Forces, so I got a bunch of people together and we all petitioned and rallied until they finally listened and set aside some money for us. The Headmaster was obviously very pleased. Said he could finally hire some more janitors to take care of that filthy fourth floor." Laan stopped talking, and they both watched a car pass by, almost failing to break as it lost traction and headed straight for a traffic light pole.

"You should probably go to sleep. Tomorrow's your first practical exam, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

Laan laughed. "You nervous?"

"Not really."

"Good. Don't be. Nerves just screw you over."

The boy nodded slowly. "How did you do on it?"

"Perfect. Well... Almost. I got a mark off for 'dangerous conduct with a weapon' because apparently, I almost shot one of my teammates. But I swear, Instructor Parmal was just being an ass. You know she hates me.

"I think they've changed the exam this year, though. Farsley said something about it 'being too dangerous for fourth years'." Laan's expression was sour. "As if. Probably just some parents complaining again."

"Should I bother studying for normal school?"

"Nah, you won't be there for exams anyways. In three weeks, you'll be at the Academy permanently. And everyone in this world will just think that you moved to China, or something. Of course, if you fail the Academy exam, you won't know for two weeks, and you'll have another three months at normal school, so you'll be dead for exams. As long as you're fine tomorrow, you don't need to worry. Which is why," he added strictly, "you should be in bed by now."

The boy shot a look of annoyance over to Laan. "But it's Christmas Eve!"

"Yeah, well the Academy doesn't recognize Christmas as a holiday, does it?" he whined, mockingly. He opened the door and the music blasted out once more. "Come on." The door swung shut, but it burst open again immediately. Laan's head popped through.

"Oh, and your Cannon? It wasn't done right. Your back shouldn't have been touching the bars on the railing. Just thought you should know." He winked and closed the door again.

The boy crossed his arms and glared at the spot where his brother's head had been. He looked back at the tall buildings and the beautiful night, then stepped back through to the party room.