Chapter 12:

Draven 1: The Pride Of A Would-be Father

"Corin!' Draven called out to his friend whose beard was just starting to get out of hand. "Aren't you going to shave that off?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm trying something new," Corin said as he stroked his beard. He looked at Draven and noticed he was one person short. "Where's the boy?" he asked.

"I have him pulling weeds," Draven joked.

"You know eventually you're going to have to let him take missions,"

"I know, and I will, I just don't think he's ready," Draven said solemnly.

"Ready? I remember a certain someone who took his first mission when he was only twelve."

"Times were different then, now, it doesn't matter how old you are, fight on the wrong side and you're killed." Corin agreed to this fact painfully. He wished it wasn't but that was the truth.

The pair stood on the steps of 'Hunts Inc.' One of the many private Maestro enlisting agencies. It was through these that Maestros got assigned jobs, and in times of conflict, their assets were employed by their host country's military. They didn't hesitate in chatting as long as they could because they knew that once they entered they would be met by 'high-standing officials' that would allocate them jobs with little regard for their own feelings towards it.

"You two," A man in a suit came down, "What are doing don't you know -,"

"We're enjoying the day, you should too," Corin interrupted. The man went red and seething.

"You can enjoy the day later, come on,".

Corin and Draven entered the Conference room on the upper level. "Man it's hot," Draven commented when they entered. He said as a young man walked past who seemed to be steaming.

"Corin and Draven, late as always, what were you doing, frolicking in a meadow somewhere." The man who commented sat in a military uniform. Draven always joked that all the hair on his head migrated to his upper lip and that was the reason he was always so cross.

"You know Colonel, We were actually, you should try it sometime," Draven's answer pulling a grin from Corin. The Colonel's mustache twitched.

"Do I need to request a debrief from your missions," The Colonel asked trying his best to hide his anger.

"Well, we already submitted one," Corin answered.

"Give me the highlights," The Colonel sighed as he massaged his temple.

"Long story short," Draven said, "All was dealt with," the Colonel glared at him.

"Good, I'll just go over your reports, stand by for further orders," Draven and Corin turned to leave. "Wait," They stopped and turned, "Corin you can go, Draven I need to speak with you," Draven shrugged at Corin who turned to him with a question in his eyes. The Colonel glared at Corin and gestured to the door.

"Is there a problem," Draven asked after Corin left.

"How's your protégé? Timothy, was it?" He asked.

"Why?" Draven asked suspiciously.

"He needs to prove his merit, otherwise you should stop wasting time on him," Draven clenched his fist.

"I wouldn't call the time 'wasted'," He said.

"Neither would I—after you show me he has potential," the Colonel said.

"What did you have in mind?" Draven asked.

"In the country Inan we have reason to believe they're producing some kind of weapon, a bomb of sorts. We had intelligence posted but we've lost communication, the only thing he got through before he went dark was just how dangerous the weapon was."

"And you want me too -,"

"I want you and your ward to confirm this, and if it is true I permit your autonomy to dispose of it,"

"Don't you want this 'bomb' intact?" Draven asked.

"That would be preferred but it's not the priority," the Colonel answered.

"Alright, consider it done."

Draven was filled with doubt. He knew he would have to eventually break the kid in, but he still felt it was too soon. His house was no mansion, it was small but homely, and had all that was necessary. "Kid!" He called, and a flurry of footsteps hurried to his position in response.

"Yes," the boy answered. He was covered from head to toe in dirt from working in the backyard. Draven couldn't help but grin at the sight, the boy had high ambitions but was not above toiling in the dirt all day, a rare trait Draven thought as he removed his jacket. His tank-top showed his arms, thick with muscle, and riddled in scars.

"How long have you been training under me?" he asked.

"Six years, I think," he replied.

"How many times have we sparred?"

"Umm. . . a lot," he said with a confused chuckle.

"How many times have sparred, seriously?"

"Umm,"

"Once," Draven answered, "Or it will be, after tonight, get your things together, I don't want to be wrecking the house." Tim's eye lit up.

"Yes! Right away!" The pair left the city and entered woods that weren't far away. The night was overcast, and coupled with the thick forestry, visibly was low, exactly what Draven was hoping for, he wanted to make this as hard as possible.

Draven stood alone in a clearing. He had told Tim to hide and attack whenever ready, giving him a sort of element of surprise. He stood as still as a statue waiting for the first signs of attack. Then, as fast as a bullet, a shard of ice sped by his face and whipped his cheek with cold.

He turned to face the direction the shard of ice came from anticipating the next attack, but it came from the other direction. This time he was barely able to dodge, a drop of blood leaked from his cheek. He grinned at the tactic employed. "Not bad!" he exclaimed as he opened a bag of ash the laid slant around his waist. He reached and pulled out a plume of soot which took immediately took the form of a bird.

It flew high and out of sight. "There," Draven said under his breath. Then the bird dove out of the sky and into the forest driving Tim out. The bird followed behind rearing its talons. Tim twisted on his toes, ice dagger in hand, and laid a lethal blow on the bird causing it to fall to the ground in embers.

"How was that," Tim said with a pant and a smug grin.

"A good start," he returned as he pulled out a massive plume of soot and forming beasts of all kinds.

By the time the sparring session was over, the sun was rising and the clearing was covered in soot and frost, as were Draven and timothy. Timothy knelt, exhausted. Draven, who broke a sweat, looked at the sour boy, yet accepting in defeat. He remembered just where he started and to see him get this far filled him with pride, the sort of pride a father would feel for his son.

"What's this," Tim asked after Draven handed him a folder.

"It's our mission,"

"Our?" Tim asked in disbelief.

"Yes, 'Our' get familiar with it we're headed out Saturday." Tim beamed, then went red as his stomach growled. "But for now we should grab something to bite," Draven offered his hand and helped Tim off his knees.