The Return of the Phantom

The Ghost Master and Her Padawan

(IF you have a great playlist for working out or that pumps you up before a game, play it as you read this chapter! :-) ) 

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It was interesting, how working out seemed to make you forget all about your old problems, making you focus only on the task at hand: burning a certain number of calories, getting your heart rate up, or breaking your lifting record. After stretching and warming up before training, Jazz pulled out her own personalized fighting staff, taking a defensive stance a few feet away from Danny. Smiling wryly, Danny whipped his head in a quick motion to remove his uncooperative hair from obstructing his view.

Letting out a battle-cry, he charged at Jazz, who smoothly dodged the attack, smacking his ankles haughtily.

"You're rusty!" She laughed, bringing the top half of her staff over his head, but he met in with the end of his own.

"Not that rusty," he replied, and stepping back, he spun the staff in a full arc over his head, but before he could get another hit in, his eyes flashed green, and ectorays shot out of his palms, ricocheting the staff up toward the ceiling, where it lodged in the metal rafters supporting the club's ceiling. They both stared up at it for a moment, Danny looking flustered. Jazz, ever the patient one, stuck her own staff up into the ceiling, and using it like a crowbar, pried Danny's staff loose, and it clattered to the ground.

All Jazz said before getting back into a battle stance was "Remember: channel your energy into your movements." Danny stooped to pick up the Energy Staff, clearly holding back a protest. It was supposed to be absorbing his excess energy, right? But he felt filled to the brim with energy as he had that morning; it hadn't lessened at all. Still, Jazz had to know what she was doing. Despite their years of estrangement, he still trusted his older sister whole-heartedly. So--focus.

He took a defensive pose this time, beckoning Jazz to attack first with a slight nod. Jazz narrowed her teal eyes in recognition, then, with a leap rivaling the most skilled of martial arts masters, thrust her staff forward like a spear, barely giving Danny time to lean into a backbend, as she flew over him. Seizing the opportunity, he forced his staff upward, not securing a full hit. But he glanced a blow on Jazz's leg, throwing her off balance. She still managed to land gracefully, but then Danny was upon her, parrying with his staff.

Now that he had an advantage, he cornered Jazz among some metal racks overly burdened with dumbbells. Then it happened again. His hands fizzled with energy, and, though he tried in vain to hold it back, sparks exploded from his hands, this time launching the staff straight into one of the punching bags. With surprisingly good aim for an unintentional propulsion, the staff struck the loop and chain holding up the punching bag. It crashed to the ground, splitting down the middle, with sand pouring out the now gaping hole.

After only a second's hesitation Danny vaulted over the weight racks, horrified. Jazz, more carefully, walked around the shelves, and while she seemed a little concerned about the mess, she merely shrugged before picking up the staff.

"I can pay for that." She commented, picking up the staff. It had splintered slightly, being made mostly of wood, but otherwise it was undamaged. "See? No harm done." She hastily brushed the lingering grains of sand off of the staff, holding it out to her brother, who didn't take it. "What?"

"It's not going to work," Danny muttered darkly. His eyes were still blue, but had green undertones. "Why should I keep wasting my time with this when all I can do is send the staff careening into punching bags and damaging this poor club's equipment?"

Jazz, still trying to seem at ease, continued to hold the staff out. "It's not working because you're not doing what I've been telling you: channeling your energy into your movements." She told him with an impatient edge in her voice she hadn't intended.