Operation Pinky Swear Chapter 3
Chapter Three: Superman (It's Not Easy)
Mike nodded as Pops left the basement and began his morning workout. After stretching, he put back on his weighted vest, then did weight training, then bag work, before finishing on the treadmill.
"One ninety-eight...one ninety-nine...two hundred. Ugh." Mike exited the bench press, made a note on in his exercise chart, and oorah'd. He could finally lift 250 pounds without resorting to a partial transformation.
For the next hour, he worked on his striking techniques.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped his weight, bent his knees and rotated his shoulders as he delivered a final palm strike to the 150-pound bag. He sent it two feet back, dodged it, then landed a front kick.
Smiling, he hit the treadmill.
Twenty minutes into his run, Mike's lungs were on fire. His chest tightened and he wheezed, but he fought back the asthma attack.
"Keep going," his inner wolf said.
He looked down at display, and with another mile to go, he allowed himself a partial transformation. His hair thickened, his limbs and muscles bulked up, and his senses sharpened. Closing his eyes, he repeated, "Honor, courage, commitment," as he ran on four legs.
When the buzzer sounded, he was sweat-drenched, but satisfied that he'd broken 15 miles. Reaching for his inhaler, he stopped, gritted his teeth, and took shallow breaths until the attack passed.
"You get your studies done yet, boy?" Pops said when he saw Mike in the kitchen later.
He finished toweling off. "Finished everything except the Mandarin and Arabic. Taking a break for breakfast, sir."
"Okay. Get that and your chores done, and you can go out." Pops tossed Mike the keys to his Camaro. "Curfew's midnight. We have church tomorrow, so don't stay up too late. And don't forget to fill up the tank."
"Cool. Where's Ma?"
"Working another shooting in Southfield. She'll be gone most of the day interviewing her client and taking depositions from witnesses. "
After breakfast, Mike checked the results of his Art History course at Oakland Community College and cursed. He'd only gotten an 85%. Oh well. He couldn't be perfect all the time. He clicked on the next course Pops had signed him up for and learned it was a comparative religion class. After reading the syllabus, he noted it required him to interview a religious leader of his choice for his final project.
Putting that aside, he got on Skype to hit up fellow Soldier Boy, Kyle Marshal.
Content Warning: homophobic language
"Long time no see, cum guzzler!"
Kyle's thick Maryland accent always cracked him up. Mike kicked off his shoes and got comfortable before he replied. "You got jokes, eh? Bet you're still a virgin."
Mike laughed when Kyle's golden-brown skin went red and he mumbled, "Yeah."
"Figures, white boy."
"Hey. Get off my nuts, son. I'm only half white." Kyle took off his polo, removed his dress shoes, vanishing from the screen and returning with two cases and a towel. From the first case, he pulled out a gun and a cleaning kit from the second. "Since when did ya rock the street look?"
"This?" Mike said, running his hand over his Jordan Jersey and basketball shorts. "Ever since Pops eased up and let me hang with civvies. And why you fronting, kid? Your ass could've been hit me up."
"Been busy."
"You hear from Eric, David, or Tony?"
"Naw, man. We really need to get together before college. Ugh! I don't think I can take much more of this Soldier Boy crap though, bro," Kyle disassembled the 9mm and arranged the pieces on his towel.
"Oh, come on. It ain't that bad. Besides, I kind of like it and have been stepping up my training. Plus, Pops said I can go to the HOP by myself now." Mike stretched out on his bed and let out a yawn.
Kyle finished cleaning the 9mm's barrel, then wiped his sooty hands on the towel. "That is bull. My dad doesn't even take me to the HOP anymore. Says I'm too soft."
"Well, my mans, maybe you need to step it up. I'm on two-a-days, running, and swimming on the weekends. Plus, I play like every sport available at my school."
"Jesus, Mikey. When do you have time for all that plus the academic stuff? How much is your vest up to? And what about going out?" Kyle lubricated the barrel.
"Meh, it's no biggie. Just gotta get up at 5 AM and in bed by like 11PM. FYI I'm up to 100 pounds and only take my vest off at night, during school, and for showers/swimming. Nice piece, by the way--a nine milly?"
"Yeah."
"Glock?"
"Nope. A berretta. Got it for my birthday last year. Son, you ain't human. No way could I get up at the ass crack of dawn like that. And BTW, my vest's at 80 pounds."
"You lucky bastard. Ma don't allow guns in the house. Well, later, son. I'mma see if the others are online. Seriously, we should do this again soon."
"Yeah, man. That'd be hella dope. Fucking miss you guys like crazy. We should totally talk like this every week!" Kyle's voice jumped two octaves and his golden-brown skin flushed rosy, making him look even younger than his baby face already did.
"Cool. I'll see if the others are down for it. And remember: Semper Fi. Do or die. Soldier Boyz never try. We always fly high and get a piece of the pie. Who are we?"
Kyle pumped his fist in the air. "Soldier Boyz."
"Who?"
"Soldier Boyz."
"Who?"
"Soldier Boyz!"
"Damn right."
"Thanks, bro. I legit needed this. Later. I'mma get squared away right now." Kyle signed off.
Next, Mike Skyped Antonio "Big O" Rodriguez: coms expert and hacker extraordinaire.
"Damn, Mike. Good to hear from ya. What's the sitch?" The brown-haired teen said in his sweet Texan drawl.
"I need you to contact the others and schedule a group Skype call for next week."
Tony saluted him, knocking off his Stetson. "Will do, sir!" His pudgy face set in a bashful grin as he put his hat back on.
"Great," Mike said. "Well, later--and remember, we're hard on you because a chain is only as a strong as its weakest link."
Tony pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and lowered his head. "Yeah, I know. I'm still a big klutz, as you just saw."
"No excuses, bro. Semper fi."
Tony gave him another salute. "Yeah, semper fi." They signed off. He tried David Williams and Eric Cho, but they were offline, so he knocked out his language studies, then started on the yardwork. When he'd finished, it was going on 3:00 PM, so he grabbed lunch and checked his Facebook account.
Pinky had posted his address, and he saw they'd moved into the Armstrongs' house a few blocks over. Quelling the queasy feeling in his stomach, Mike paid Tamir a visit.
***
Upon entering the yard, he saw Tamir balancing two boxes under each arm.
"Need some help?" he asked, reaching for a box.
Pinky smiled. "Fo sho."
They spent the next hour setting up Pinky's PC and his creation station that housed all his art supplies, sewing machine, and airbrush compressor. Done, they sprawled out on his king-sized bed, Mike's feet dangling over the edge of the mattress.
"Where everybody at?" he said.
"Getting groceries and new clothes for the twins."
They exchanged small talk for a while, and it was like no time had passed since they'd last seen each other. Mike bust a gut at Pinky's corny jokes as 106 & Park played in the background. He couldn't remember a time he'd laughed as hard or felt as comfortable.
"Hey, why'd ya'll move back to Michigan?"
Pinky got quiet. "You know the economic crisis of '08?"
"Yeah?"
"My parents lost a lot of money and had to sell most of their assets to cover their debts. Now they work as branch managers for PNC Bank."
Mike didn't know how to react, so he went with his gut. "Ya'll planing on sticking around for a while, or what?"
He explained his parents were starting a venture capitalist firm with their investment banker associates. They just needed to close a big deal to secure their capital, and they were all set.
Mike gave him a dejected look. "You're only here temporarily, then?"
He gave Mike a reassuring smile and socked him in the arm. "No, but if things go well, we'll probably move to like Bloomfield Hills, Rochester, or thereabout."
"Not that far, then?" Mike kicked off his sneakers and rolled on his side, facing Tamir. "What was New York like?"
"I loved it and all, but I'm glad to be back in the D. Too many fake ass people. But the boys were totally cute." Tamir's mouth hung open, and he blushed. Neither of them said anything awhile.
Pausing for a second as he struggled to form words, Mike at last said, "You're gay?"
"Yeah. I thought you knew, given how we messed around and all when we were younger."
"Yeah, but the other day you said you was straight."
"I didn't know how you'd react so . . . I lied.
Mike sat there stunned but played it off all nonchalant. "Oh. I'm cool with it, bro. Do you, boo."
Pinky laughed. "Sure. Like I was saying, ski trips to Switzerland and vacations in the South of France were nice, and I'm geeked I got to keep my jag, but I missed this." He pulled Mike into a hug.
Mike slipped out of Tamir's grip and put him in a side head lock. After Pinky tapped out, he eased the pressure and gave him a noogie. "Missed you too, fucker." He tousled Pinky's kinky blonde hair, then gave him a wet willy.
"Oh, it's on now, punk." Once Mike released him, Pinky rolled on top of him getting full mount, so he was straddling Mike's waist and went for a front choke hold.
Mike broke the hold and grabbed Pinky's right arm, executing a kimura arm lock, almost sitting on the other teen's head as he wretched Pink's arm back.
Because of his skinny frame, Pinky wiggled free. But Mike rolled him on his back, locked his legs and went for a rear naked choke hold. But before Mike could latch his arm around his neck, Pinky shot out from under Mike. He latched onto his back, and went for an arm lock of his own.
Mike scrambled around and locked his legs around Pinky's waist and executed a perfect a guillotine choke. he hooked his legs around the other teen's waist and wrapped his arms around tPinky's neck, wrenching it. When he tapped out, Mike rolled on top him, and smirked.
"I give. Jesus, you're heavy," Pinky said between huffs.
"Hey! I'm only 190lb, and besides I have on my weighted vest." Mike released him and took a hit from his inhaler. They rolled to opposite sides of the bed and watched Sports Center, to which Pinky voiced his annoyance.
Mike flipped him off. "When you're at my house, you get to choose the programming." He didn't dare acknowledge the pole tenting his undies or the one Pinky was sporting.
They talked about the upcoming school year, and to Mike elations, Tamir would attend Coleman A. Young High, too. Then he noticed Tamir's fly kicks.
Content Warning: N-word
"Where you get those shoes? I know niggas who'd kill for them mugs," Mike said, eyeing Tamir's technicolor sneakers.
"These? I airbrushed them myself, along with most of my clothes. Love designing my own gear." Tamir's face lit up as he talked about how he came up with ideas for new projects and how he wanted to visit France again and finally see the Louvre.
Mike missed how hype Pinky got when he was excited about something and couldn't help smiling. "If ya went into business, you'd make mad stacks, son."
Pinky rolled on his side towards Mike, resting his chin in his hands. "What?"
"Seriously, I'm tempted to have you hook up my Air Force 1s, so I'll have all the hoes on my jock."
He reached over and flicked Mike's ear. "I'd have to charge extra for those pontoons of yours."
"Hey! I get it from my daddy. Besides, you know what they say about dudes with big feet . . ."
. "Bullshit." Pinky rolled his eyes. "You were only like an inch bigger than me."
"Were, being the key word. I've grown over two feet in the past three years and the doctors say I'll probably break seven feet before my last growth spurt. And what are you, five-eight?"
"Five-ten, fuck you very much. And 6.5 inches where it counts." Pinky grinned.
Smirking, Mike said, "Ha, got you beat."
"If you're so cocky, then whip it out."
"Not happening. You always did have a thing for my thing, though." He chuckled at his joke and play-punched Pinky's arm.
"Right, and you must've forgotten why you started calling me Pinky," Tamir launched his pillow at Mike.
"I have a rep to maintain. And you might wanna keep the whole gay thing on the DL--just saying. You ain't in the NYC no more."
"Fuck that noise. I ain't gon be shouting it from the mountain tops, but I ain't gon hide who I am!"
"I didn't mean it like that. Just be careful. I . . ." Mike trailed off and suggested they play Call of Duty for a while.
In between getting his head blown off by grenades, Pinky told him about his time at the Manhattan Academy for Boys in Connecticut; they expected students to take at least three extracurricular activities. And that's how Tamir discovered his talent for art and got into BJJ and coding.
His roommate was an exchange student from South Africa named Henrick, and he spent the first few weeks ignoring him, until they caught each other jerking it one night. By the end of the semester, they were a couple.
It was one thing for him to say he was gay, but a whole other thing to hear about his first relationship. Mike nodded his head where appropriate and tried not to think about Tamir getting it on with another guy. But when Tamir mentioned how Henrick had broken up with him because his family wasn't wealthy anymore, on top of the racist crap he'd said to Pinky, Mike gripped his controller until his knuckles turned white. "If you talk to that Henrick guy again, tell him to watch his back. Ya feel me?"
"Don't worry. I blocked that fuckboy. And why ya care so much?" He got in a head shoot on Mike's character.
When he respawned, Mike got him back with a grenade to the chest. "Because no one hurts my Pinky."
"Careful there. I might get the wrong idea."
Pinky lucked out and tossed the other teen's grenade back, and it exploded right before Mike was out of range.
"We wouldn't want that, now, would we?" Mike batted his eyes and broke into laughter. He groaned and tossed his other pillow at Mike.
The conversation lulled, and they got back to their game. The boys trash talked and shoved each other until Mike shot Pinky's character in the head for the fifth time in a row, and the shorter teen threw down his controller. "This is straight bullshit. You totally have an unfair advantage."
"Not my fault you suck."
"Unlike you, I haven't done this stuff for real."
"What ya talking about?" Mike continued playing as if nothing had happened
"You know . . ." Pinky began. "The stuff about the Alphas and the Soldier Boyz."
Mike dropped his controller, narrowed his eyes, and spoke in a solemn voice. "If you or the twins ever told anyone about us, you know I'd have to take you out?"
"Chill. I told no one about the Alphas and made sure the twins didn't either. A soldier knows when to speak up and when to remain silent." He stood up straight and eyeballed Mike, who got right in his face.
A staring contest ensued until Pinky shifted his eyes to the ground and turned his head. Mike grabbed Pinky's face and turned him, so they were looking directly at each other. Tamir flinched back, but relaxed when Mike smiled.
"You still remember your training?"
"Yeah."
But how much do you remember about us?"
"Just that you guys are the sons of Marines who put ya through special forces training, and that you're like werewolves."
"Correction: shifters. But yeah. Mostly MARSOC and Force Recon, with a bit of SEAL training compliments of Kyle's dad."
"So?"
"You guys didn't complete training. Are you willing to finish what we started? I'm not gonna lie. What I put ya'll through before ain't nothing compared to what awaits you."
Pinky paused, his face pinched in thought. "What will it entail?"
"I can only reveal that if you and the twins agree to continue training."
After Pinky pestered him for the better part of an hour before Mike relented. "I'm going to show you something, but don't freak out."
Mike took off his vest and tossed it to the ground, where it thudded. After explaining he wore the vest to make moving and exercise more difficult, Mike lay on his stomach and told him how he got the various scars on his body.
***
Pops would keep Mike up for days at a time and make him recite passages from The Art of War or the Rifleman's Creed, and he'd get beaten with a bamboo cane when he messed up.
And when it came time to learn survival, evasion, resistance, and escape (SERE) techniques, he had to endure being burnt with cigarettes, electrocuted via car battery, and undergoing simulated drowning. Then there were the scares from edged and improvised weapon fighting and wrestling with dogs and wolves.
***
Pinky ran his fingers over the faint scars on Mike's back and shook his head. "Your dad should be under the jail for he did to you. There's no way in hell we're going through that!"
"You weren't brought up like a Soldier Boyz, so I don't expect you to understand it. But I won't go as hardcore as Pops. But you will have to learn to endure pain."
Mike rolled on to his back and rested his arms behind his head. Falling silent, he stared up at the giant rainbow poster and the reproductions of famous paintings on Pinky's walls and at his original artwork. They talked about his drawings and how he wanted to do it professionally and how his dad was against it.
"I can relate," he said, and they fell into silence.
***
Turning his head, he caught Pinky staring at him, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Take a picture already." Grinning, he flexed his pecs.
"Wallah, you're so conceited. Ya know that?" He slapped Mike's chest.
Mike give him his big puppy dog eyes. "Who me?"
"Screw you," Pinky said, cutting his eyes at Mike, his cheeks glowing red.
Mike flexed his muscles again and smirked. "You know you can't stay mad at this face."
Laughing, Pinky relented. "You're something else. I tell ya I'm gay and you're all blah, and then talk about your fucked up childhood like it was a day in the park. Does anything faze you?"
Mike scratched his hairy chest and said, "Nein. Ich bin ein Ubermensch."
He tried not to laugh but failed when Mike replied in German, "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"
"Ein bisschen. Took two years at boarding school."
"Good to know, and if ya think that's bad you do, wait for it, not want to hear my Mandarin." Mike flicked Pinky's nose and dodged another pillow.
"How many languages do you know?"
"French, Russian, Arabic, Latin, Japanese, and Portuguese starting next month. But I'm only fluent in Latin, German and Japanese. I have fifty percent or less literacy in everything else. But it's par for the course, as you'll be doing language training too. To answer your other question: don't be so naïve. All warfare is based on deception."
Pinky kicked off his shoes and flexed his dainty toes. "Okay. Me and the twins have been learning Arabic and Swahili for the past two years and had to take Latin for three years. And how are you able to do all that, Mr. Superman?"
"The same way I got through training, semper fidelis."
"Always faithful?"
"Yeah." Wiping his eyes, Mike continued, "Maybe Pops crossed the line sometimes, but it strengthened me, and I will carry the lessons he taught me `till I die.
"When things are darkest, I use the inner strength he forged in me to go beyond my limits. I carry this attitude in everything I do. Sure multitasking, rote memorizing, and mnemonic devices help. But semper fidelis is how I'm able to do it."
He broke towards the end and Pinky rubbed his shoulders until he calmed down.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I just need a trip to the House of Pain to get squared away." Mike put on his vest and jersey and lay back down.
Tamir watched Mike mess around with his phone. "The what?"
"The House of Pain is a cabin up north Pops had built for intense training. It houses a firing range, rock-climbing wall, pool, and gym. Then there's the Pit."
"The what?"
"Kept at 110 degrees Fahrenheit, me and the other Soldier Boyz had to spar and exercise in there. But Dad would lock me in with just a few gallons of water and minimal food when I didn't get with the program. The other Alphas have HOPs as well, built to suit their needs. "
"What the actual fuck? Your dad's a monster."
"It's not even that serious. For SERE training, Pops left me in the woods surrounding the HOP and I had to survive for months at a time."
"Jesus, how old were you when that started?"
"I was . . . five. It began with weekend trips, then week-long stints. As the time increased, wilderness camp became our cover story.
"When I was eight, with only my combat knife and a canteen, I encountered a pack of grey wolves and had to fight for my life. That was the first time I shifted."
"Damn," was all Tamir could say.
"The pack leader charged and pinned me. As he was about to rip out my throat, my adrenaline kicked in and I rolled out from under him, and we fought. Then he bit my neck and held on tight until I shifted back and drove my knife into its neck. Blood running down my chest, I stood and eyed the wolves left."
"Fuck, and you were only eight when this happened?"
"Yeah. One male stepped forward, crouched down, and bared his fangs. I stared him down and he backed away. I took a step forward, and the wolf whined. The others eyed me until a female approached. I made ready to strike. Then she sniffed me and licked the wounds on my neck and shoulders.
"Following her lead, the others sniffed me, then lay down around me and waited."
Tamir leaned into Mike. "Bro, what happened next?"
"I put down the knife and made to rub the chin of the female wolf. She reared back, then licked my hand and rolled on her back, showing her stomach. And like that, they accepted me as one of them. For the rest of my time. I hunted, fought, ate, and slept with the pack.
"When Pops came to collect to me, he found me covered in animal blood and on all fours, flanked by the wolves. I'd partially shifted, and my nails had grown into claws and my teeth to fangs. Pops drew his Glock and shot the wolves."
Mike was crying freely now and Tamir looked on the verge of tears himself. "Why would he do that? Aren't wolves like your cousins?"
"Yeah. When I asked Pops, he said there is only one pack: the Alphas."
"What did you do?"
"I charged him, but Pops smacked me down till I gave up. Then he cleaned me up, and we went home, but I was never the same. I remember little from the time we came home until my ninth birthday. And to this day, I crave raw meat, grass, and dirt, and have heightened smell and night vision even in my human form. My wolf side is only sated when I'm deep in the wild."
Mike saw the fear in Tamir's eyes and reminded him he was hard but fair and wouldn't push him and the twins beyond their breaking points.
"Still, I don't know if I'm cut out for this stuff."
"I know you are because I still see the alpha spark in you I saw back in the day."
"What are you talking about?"
"Honor, courage, and commitment. You stood up to me back then with the twins and today in the mall. That took guts and is what being a Soldier Boy is about."
"If you think I can handle it, then yeah. But if you cross the line with the twins, I'll kick your ass," Tamir said, without a hint of humor in his voice.
"If you think I'm being too hard, then pull me aside and we'll discuss it. But if you ever undermine my authority, I will break you. Is that understood?"
"Can we talk about something else? I hate when you get like this."
"That's sir, yes--sorry. Sometimes I can't turn the Soldier Boy side of me off. It's so ingrained that I forget I'm evening doing it."
Mike's eyes took on a faint glow as he flipped the TV to a UFC match, and they fell into silence.
***
Tamir stole furtive glances at Mike when he thought the other teen wasn't looking, but Mike was acutely aware and spoke. "Anyways. About the gay thing? Like I said, I don't care. You're just doing you, but nothing is going to happen between us."
"Who said it would? But why'd you suck me off back when we used to kick it?"
"That was kid's stuff. Besides, I was paying you back for all the freebies you gave me." Mike turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Then why'd you kiss me back?"
"I did not!"
"Bullshit! We locked pinkies, and you promised to stand up to your dad if I promised not to change. Then I kissed you and you kissed me back when I tried to pull away."
Mike drew his knees into his chest and hunched his shoulders. "Seriously dude, drop it. I'm trying to watch this."
Tamir turned so Mike couldn't avoid his face anymore. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't have feelings for me then."
"Get away from me."
Mike shoved him, and Tamir hopped on top of him. He pinned Mike's chest with his knees and held Mike's arms in place with his hands.
"You know it's only a matter time before I get out this. And when I do, prepare to have your ass kicked," Mike said, snarling as his inner wolf screamed to be let out. He tried using his feet to give him enough leverage to roll to the side.
"Not happening." Tamir pressed Mike back down to bed and locked eyes with him, then continued, "Tell me you felt nothing when we kissed, and I'll let you go."
Mike gritted his teeth, then dug down deep and pressed himself into the mattress, causing Tamir's hold to decrease. This gave him enough leeway to roll to the side and send Tamir over the edge of the bed. Mike fell on top of him and when he got up, Tamir let out a scream.
"Shit! Pinky, are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, hold his arm. "No thanks to you."
He tried apologizing, but Tamir cut him off, "Keep your fucking hands to yourself or we gon have a problem. Is that understood?" He shouted the last part as he used the edge of the bed to stand.
"Loud and clear, and if I kissed you back then . . . it was because I didn't want to lose you yet. Guess I did now, huh?"
"Go."
Mike did as he said and left, feeling like a giant ass.
Author's Note: sorry for the delay in chapters. What do you think of the story so far? Let me know at phenix39@yahoo.com.
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