war has begun, and if they're not careful, a fatality will tear them down.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
matt sturniolo x fem! oc x chris sturniolo (LOVE T...
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𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖝. Fire and Lightning
Maeve
MAEVE'S TRAINING continues twofold, leaving her exhausted. It's for the best. Exhaustion makes it easy to sleep and hard to worry. Every time doubt tugs at her brain, over Matt or Piedmont or whatever comes next, she's too tired to entertain the thoughts. She runs and weight trains with Matt in the mornings, taking advantage of the lasting effects of Silent Stone. After their heaviness, nothing physical seems difficult. He also slips in a bit of theory between laps, even though she assures him Marzia has it covered. He just shrugs and keeps on. She doesn't mention that the blue-haired electricon's training is more brutal, designed to kill. Matt was raised to fight, but with a skin healer in the wings. His version of sparring is very different from Marzia's, which focuses on total annihilation. Matt is more oriented on defense. His unwillingness to kill Silvers unless absolutely necessary is thrown into harsh relief by Maeve's hours with her fellow electricons.
Marzia is a brawler. Her storms gather with blinding speed, spinning black clouds out of clear skies to fuel a merciless fusillade of lightning. Maeve remembers her in Archeon, wielding a gun with one hand and lightning in the other. Only Reva Rivers' quick thinking kept Marzia from turning Chris to a pile of smoking ash. Maeve doesn't think her own lightning will ever be as destructive as the older girl's, not without years of training, but her tutelage is invaluable. From Marzia, she learns that storm lightning is more powerful than any other kind, hotter than the surface of the sun, with the strength to split even diamondglass. Just one bolt like Marzia's drains Maeve so fully she can barely stand, but the girl with blue hair does it for fun and target practice. Once, she made the Deuveux run through a minefield of her storm lightning to test the girl's footwork.
Web lightning, as Jeremiah calls it, is more familiar. He uses bolts and sparks thrown from his hands and feet, usually in splaying webs of green, to protect his body. While he can call storms, too, he prefers more accurate methods, and he fights with precision. His lightning can take form. He's best at the shield, a weaving crackle of electric energy that can stop a bullet, and a whip to cut through rock and bone. The latter is striking to behold: a fraying arc of electricity that moves like a deadly rope, able to burn through anything in its path. Maeve feels the force of it every time they spar. It doesn't hurt her as much as it would anyone else, but any lightning she can't wrench control of strikes deep. Usually, she ends the day with her hair on end, and when Matt kisses her, he always gets a shock or two.
The quiet Tristan doesn't spar with the other three, or with anyone, for that matter. He has given no name to his speciality, but Marzia calls it pulse lightning. His control of electricity is astounding. The pure white sparks are small but concentrated, containing the strength of a storm bolt. Like a live-wire bullet.
"I'd show you brain lightning," he mutters to Maeve one day, "but I doubt anyone would volunteer to help the demonstration."
They pass the sparring circles together, beginning the long walk across the base to Storm Hill. Now that Maeve has been with them for awhile, Tristan actually speaks more than a few words to her. Still, it's a surprise to hear his voice.
