Westbrook Academy for Metahumans: Forums

He took a seat at the picnic table. The same picnic table he’d taken a seat at the day before, and the day before that. The same picnic table he’d taken a seat at months ago. He suspected he could find it with his eyes closed at this point, he’d come here so often.

Not that he always at the picnic table when he came here. Some days he’d lay down in the grass. Other days he might climb a tree, or even just rest against it. But it was almost always the same small clearing in Gaiman Woods lately.

He got comfortable. He’d be here for a while.

When he first starting coming here, it was to repair the damage he’d done. And he’d done his job well. Only the two unsalvageable trees had died. The rest, even the four that had been borderline, were well on their way to recovery. He had his little victory over Shortened Breath, not that it probably mattered much in the grander scheme of things. But it mattered to him.

But he wasn’t coming here lately to repair the trees. He’d finished that weeks ago.

He opened his senses and reached out near the limit of his range and began drawing energy from a strong, healthy tree. At the same time, he reached out to another tree, also near the limit of his range. The second tree was the one he’d pulled from yesterday. Its energy reserves were severely depleted. Given time it would have recovered on its own, but that wouldn’t be necessary. Eli began infusing it with the energy from the first tree.

Then he began pulling and infusing at a faster rate. Then faster and faster still. Soon he was siphoning energy at a rate comparable to that he’d had to maintain back in March, when he’d helped power Bronka’s spell.

It would take him an hour or so to transfer it all. Trees held an enormous amount of life energy. After nearly emptying the tree, he’d probably repeat the process by pulling from yet another tree.

He was pushing himself, reaching to the limits of his range and pulling as much energy as fast as he could for hours at a time. It was good exercise. It was good conditioning. Sure, it left him exhausted, but who knew when the next emergency would happen, or what the next emergency might call for?

His volunteer work at the hospital the past few months had allowed him to develop his precision skills. Some jobs did call for delicate precision, but other jobs called for pure brute force or for tremendous endurance. It only made sense to be prepared for such possibilities. It was the sensible, responsible, heroic thing to do.

Eli packed his electric violin away in its case. It was early afternoon, and he’d been playing for the past two hours in the plaza in Overbrook. He’d managed to earn twenty-four dollars and seventy-five cents—much more than he expected, truth be told. Maybe people were feeling generous for the holiday weekend. He’d played to the weekend’s patriotic spirit, performing and improvising on pieces such as “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” “My Country Tis of Thee,” and of course, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” He slung his violin case over his shoulder, then shouldered his portable amplifier as well.

He stretched, stifling a bit of a yawn. He’d been up much too late last night, and then he’d gotten up for 5:30 that morning to go running with Peyton and Hank. After breakfast, he’d gone over to Perez to practice extended high-volume energy transfer as he’d been doing for the past month, moving most of the energy from one tree to another. He’d cut back on how often he was doing that after having to dodge questions from Jessie and others about why he was so tired. By cutting back a bit and making strategic use of caffeine and energy absorption, he’d largely avoided seeming too tired. But at the moment, he was definitely and undeniably too tired. He’d practiced for a solid four hours that morning, almost twice as long as he had on any other day, and he probably had overdone it. His senses were even somewhat oversensitive, leaving him faintly feeling the pieces of lettuce, tomato, and such being served in the nearby delicatessen. He wouldn’t be practicing that anymore that weekend.

The plaza was still bustling with activity, but it was quieting down some now that the lunchtime rush had passed. He walked over to a nearby bench and took a seat, setting his violin and amp down next to him. Maybe he’d get something to eat. He was getting hungry and hadn’t had lunch himself yet. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and sighed, relaxing for a few moments...

Eli woke up with a start, blinking away his drowsiness. After a moment, it dawned on him that he’d dozed off. He really must’ve been more tired than he thought. Once he’d had lunch, he’d definitely head back to campus and take a nap. He turned to gather up his electric violin—

His electric violin wasn’t there. Neither was the portable amp.

He looked around and swore. They were gone, and of course it was too late to do anything about it now.

Sighing heavily, he started walking to the delicatessen. He’d have to call his parents about this. The violin was insured, so they could probably put a claim in on it since it was stolen. But that could wait until he’d eaten and napped. He wasn’t about to deal with his parents while he was running on empty.

(( Here’s an example of “The Star-Spangled Banner” on the electric violin. ))