Ronnie checked the time on his phone and tutted impatiently. Taran was supposed to be meeting him for a training session but was nowhere to be found. “Probably off doing forty things at once, yet again,” he thought to himself. “Someone needs to remind him to leave some work for the other members.”

He decided to wander the hall and get more acquainted with the training facility. The Syndicate seemed to have a room for just about every situation and power set: giant pools for trainees with aquatic powers and arenas where the weather could be calibrated to simulate any climate. And Ronnie would have access to all of it! The vast wealth of technology still left him feeling awed and longing to know how everything worked. He made a mental note to track down Lydia and ask for an exclusive tour when they had some free time.

Ronnie passed one of the smaller exercise rooms when he heard a noise from inside that made him pause. Curious, he placed a hand on the wall panel, and the door slid open with a hiss. The room was dark, except for a few round lights at the far end. A collection of hulking training robots were arranged in a tight ring. Lights flashed across their metallic visors, and all were poised to strike at the familiar figure in the center.

Ronnie watched as Taran slowly spun, a black staff held with both hands ready to block any attack. Taran was breathing heavily, and the sweat that stained his grey training shirt indicated he had been at this for quite a while. One of the robots flanking Taran suddenly lurched forward, its dark metallic arm swinging out in a left hook. Taran caught the blow with the end of his staff, before twisting to land a solid kick in the center of the robot’s chest plate. The training dummy staggered backward as Taran swept its legs with a cry of anguish. It crashed to the ground just before being violently blown back with a blast of wind.

Ronnie gasped. This wasn’t training, it was venting. He caught sight of Taran’s face as he spun again to meet another striking robot. His expression was twisted in frustration and matched the brutal, uncalculated strikes he was now making. Taran was pissed about something and determined to make these robots pay for it. His staff swung with wild abandon, the blows missing just as often as they connected. A metallic clang rang out each time Taran made contact. Ronnie saw him start to get lost in his anger, losing focus. He was only concentrating on one target at a time now, which gave the others an opportunity. A robot managed to land a blow to Taran’s shoulder that sent him reeling to the ground. He was struck by another before he had the chance to recover. The remaining training bots began to converge on their target, readying a coordinated assault.

Ronnie took a step forward and threw out his hands. A green dome sprung up from around Taran and closed him in. The construct was immediately attacked by the robots, and each blow was matched by a thud in Ronnie’s temple. The robots were more vicious than he anticipated, and it was challenging to keep up the force field from so far away. He wasn’t sure how long it would stay materialized.

Taran whirled around from his place on the floor, eyes wide in surprise. “End simulation!” he shouted. The training robots instantly halted their actions before slowly stepping to their default locations at the far end of the room. A few were damaged: cracked body plates, arms broken at the elbows, only holding on by a few wires.

Ronnie dropped his hands, and the dome dissolved. “Hey,” he said weakly.

Taran twisted the center of his staff, which made both ends collapse into the handle. He hurried to his gym bag, clearly embarrassed. “Ronnie! I am so sorry. I wanted to squeeze in an extra training session and must have lost track of time.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that was training. You were trying to murder those robots… is everything okay?”

Taran hung his head and was silent for a moment. “I— I just needed to work some things out. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I was watching for a while, and you weren’t yourself.” Ronnie dropped to one knee and met Taran’s gaze. “You can talk to me.”

The story spilled out. Taran explained how he found the jewel thief that he and Maya had been chasing for the last few days. How there had been a fight, and Taran didn’t come out as the victor.

“Long story short, I wasn’t prepared. I got my ass kicked, and it likely would have been a lot worse if the guy hadn’t been toying with me the entire time.”

“At least you know who he is now, right? It was just a mistake, you—“

“That’s the problem, Ronnie!” Taran’s voice rose in frustration. “I can’t be making these mistakes!”

Ronnie flinched at the outburst. He hadn’t meant to irritate what was clearly still an open wound.

Taran softened. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. It was just a bad night.” He sighed.

Ronnie nudged Taran’s shoulder. “Well… hopefully not all bad, right?”

“Ha! You’re right, the rest of it was pretty good.” Taran reached for Ronnie’s hand. “I really hate that I messed up our morning plans.”

Ronnie smiled. He could feel the old Taran was back. “I’m still up for some training if you are.”

“Really?!” Taran’s eyes lit up. “I’d like that a lot. Just give me a few to get cleaned up, I’m really gross.” He gathered his bags and headed for the door. “Meet me at the main arena in fifteen, okay?”

“Sounds great, I’ll grab us some breakfast.”

“Yes, please!” Taran paused at the door and looked back. “Hey, Ronnie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for listening.”