The Search for Artemis

Chapter FOURTEEN

TRAINING


“We have one more place to see. Palaestra,” Dr. Wells called out to the lift after they both stepped onto the platform. “The Palaestra, in the subterranean level, is the private training facility for the Pantheon agents, and you’ll be spending the majority of your time in this area. It contains the agent locker rooms, a weight facility, private lounges, and . . .”

Dr. Wells continued his monologue as the lift passed through the Temple floor and descended into a large, multi-story cubic room. The walls and floor were covered in lighted white tiles, which made the entire room glow. As they overlooked the space, Landon tried to identify those who were busy training, but the ground was so bright, Landon had difficulty making out any detail, aside from their profiles. A female figure moved with acrobatic ease through an obstacle course erected along the entire left side of the room, her body breaking the light as she swung from bar to bar. Off to the right, three guys sparred. The largest of the three was dominating the other two. There was one other figure just visible in the back who looked to be floating. Landon could have sworn he was hovering at least three feet off the ground, but he couldn’t see a shadow to know for sure. Walking between the three stations, a man methodically and authoritatively shouted instructions. Landon recognized the voice as that of Dr. Brighton.

“Pantheon,” Dr. Wells shouted as the lift neared its destination, “gather ’round, please! I must introduce you to the newest addition to the team!”

The lift settled onto the Palaestra floor, and Dr. Wells marshaled Landon off the platform. Now Landon could see everything much more clearly. The light wasn’t nearly as blinding from ground level, and he watched in shock as the members of the Pantheon approached. He recognized all of them.

Landon’s heart beat faster in his chest when he saw that the three combatants were none other than Brock Holbrooke and Joshua and Jeremiah Crane. Brock slowly massaged his right forearm as he meandered toward Landon. He appeared far more muscular and menacing than usual, as the light from the floor cast deep shadows against the ridged contours of his body. The trio reached the lift first and fell into a single row facing Dr. Wells. Brock stood tall and rigid with his arms crossed over his chest and a subtle scowl on his face. The Crane twins, however, looked surprisingly excited to see Landon. Perhaps Landon hadn’t given them a fair shot due to their association with Brock.

The girl who had been swinging through the obstacle course turned out to be Alexandra Parker. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, which, when paired with her form-fitting training attire, gave her an even slyer, slinkier appearance than usual. Outside of their awkward introduction on orientation day, Landon and Parker had never really interacted. She looked intimidating as she filed in beside Jeremiah Crane and adopted a domineering stance with her weight on one leg, forcing her hip out to the side, and both hands firmly planted at her waist. She couldn’t help but express her annoyance at the interruptin as she glared at Landon.

The floating guy turned out to be Cortland Cartwright. Whatever he had been doing, it must have been intense. He appeared the most physically taxed of any of them. His grey shirt had become two-toned, with a pronounced ring of sweat spreading from his neck to his shoulders and another stain down the front of his shirt to his navel. Strands of dark brown hair clung to the edges of his tan face, but he wore an excited smile as he fell into formation beside Parker. Dr. Brighton brought up the rear and stood stoically on the end next to Brock, waiting for Dr. Wells to continue. Landon returned Cortland’s silent, warm welcome with a hesitant smile. The situation made him too uncomfortable to display anything more overt.

“Landon,” Dr. Wells started. “Or should I say, Apollo—”

“Apollo?” Landon asked, turning toward Dr. Wells.

“Yes, Landon. Every member of the Pantheon is given a code name, a nom-de-guerre, to be used during missions, a name initiating them into the team. In the Pantheon, those call signs are pulled from the mythological figures of ancient Greece. They were powerful, and they protected and shaped the lives of mankind, just as you will. It was decided that you will take up the mantle of Apollo, god of the hunt, medicine, prophecy and music, and carrier of the sun. And this is your team.”

Dr. Wells motioned toward the row of Landon’s peers, starting at Cortland and then moving down the line. “You know them as Cortland, Parker, Jeremiah, Joshua, Brock and Dr. Brighton, but here they are Hector, Atalanta, Pollux, Castor, Ares and Zeus.”

“Welcome to the team, Apollo!” Cortland interjected.

“Yeah,” Jeremiah said, “it’s good to—” He suddenly fell silent under Brock’s deathly stare.

“All right,” Dr. Wells broke in, “I have to get back. Good luck with your training,” he said to Landon before commanding the lift to ascend to the Temple.

Landon stood still while staring at his teammates, wondering if someone would tell him what was to happen next. In the back of his mind, he worried that they were waiting for him to say something. They all had their eyes trained on him, except Parker, who appeared to be following the lift until it rose out of the Palaestra.

Cortland stepped out of formation, but then stopped suddenly and turned to Dr. Brighton. He seemed to have realized he hadn’t been given permission to break the line. Dr. Brighton gave a subtle nod, and Cortland walked over to Landon.

“I told you I’d be seeing more of you soon,” he said jovially. Out of the corner of his eye, Landon noticed Parker turn and head back to the obstacle course without even a word. “Oh, and don’t worry about her. What she lacks in social skills, she makes up for with her psy-kin skill set.” Cortland motioned behind him to Parker, who’d already returned to swinging and flipping from the ring section of the obstacle course. “She’s our hacker.”

“Really? Parker’s a computer hacker?” Landon stared at Parker with surprise; he never would’ve guessed.

“No,” Cortland replied with a laugh. “Jer—and down here he’s Pollux—is actually the best with computers. Josh, or Castor, is our demolitions expert; Brock—Ares—as you can see, is by far the best at hand-to-hand combat”—Landon peered over just in time to watch Brock toss Joshua over his shoulder and slam him to the ground—“and is our second-in-command. Dr. Brighton—or Zeus—is in charge and is a strategic mastermind. But Atalanta, let’s just say she has a knack for getting into people’s heads.”

Hackers! Fighters! Strategists! “What am I doing here?” It took Landon a second to realize he’d said that last part aloud. “I’m none of those things.”

“I’m sure there’s a reason they put you on the team,” Cortland replied reassuringly. “And you’ll find your place after you’ve had some training and we figure out what you’re good at. We all started right where you are now. Give it a few days before you start freaking out.”

“Well, what about you?” Landon asked. “You’ve been through the training . . . so what’s your special skill? You never said.”

A toothy, mischievous smile stretched across Cortland’s face. “Me? Well, I’m—”

“Hector,” Dr. Brighton interrupted. He stepped up to them and put his hand on Landon’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take Apollo back to the lockers so he can change, and get him started on some P.T. training.” Dr. Brighton looked back at Landon. “Training starts now, little buddy.”

“Yes, sir,” Cortland replied before asking Landon to follow him. He headed toward the back corner of the Palaestra.

“Oh, and Hector?” Dr. Brighton called to them.

Cortland turned, and in three loping strides, was back in front of Dr. Brighton. Yards away, Landon could do nothing but watch as Dr. Brighton whispered to Cortland, causing that same toothy smile return to Cortland’s face. A moment later, he was back and led Landon into the Pantheon locker rooms. Landon quickly changed into sneakers, black athletic shorts, and a grey t-shirt with the Pantheon’s eagle logo screened onto the front.

“Were you flying earlier?” Landon asked as he shut his new locker.

“Oh, that,” he replied while leading Landon back to the Palaestra. “Yeah . . . it’s basically telekinetically lifting yourself. It’s seriously difficult. You have to stay completely focused. I’ve been working on it for months and can only keep it up for twenty seconds or so.”

“God, I don’t know if I could ever do that.”

“You never will with that attitude. . . . And who knows? This place has a way of proving that nothing’s impossible. You might surprise yourself.”

• • • • •

“Apollo!” Dr. Brighton shouted from behind him. He had to repeat himself a few times before Landon could hear him over the throbbing in his ears. Landon turned and faced his professor, who gestured for him to come to his side. “How are you doing?” he asked.

Landon was panting heavily, and he stood with his hands against his hips. His hair was sticking to his head in sweaty tendrils, and his damp shirt was now a significantly darker shade of grey. His arms and legs tingled from exertion, and his heart was pounding so violently he could feel his pulse in his shins.

It had only been an hour since Cortland and Landon returned to the Palaestra floor, but Cortland had put him through the wringer in that hour. Wind sprints, push-ups, crunches, lunges, squats, arm presses, suicides . . . and that was just what Landon could remember. According to Cortland, the day had just begun. It was circuit training from hell, and Landon could only suspect that Cortland’s merciless drilling was at the whispered behest of his new commander, Dr. Brighton.

Landon fought a wave of nausea, choking back the vomit he felt lingering at the back of his throat, and answered, “I’m super . . . sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dr. Brighton replied, unafffected. “I hope you’ve realized that this training will not be easy. This will be harder than anything you’ve ever done in your life. Today is nothing compared to what you’re in store for. Your body and abilities will be stretched to their absolute breaking point. Today is just physical. Tomorrow you will start weapons and combat training, stealth maneuvering, mission tactics, strategy, military history, tech training, specialized telekinetics, field training, and teamwork. You must be strong physically and mentally to succeed here as an operative, and it’s my job to make sure you’re ready. You’re no longer responsible for only your life; now you have the lives of your teammates and countless civilians to consider.”

“Professor?” Landon began timidly. His decision to join the Pantheon was suddenly forced into perspective. He had accepted the offer so willingly; it was a means of redemption, a way to find answers. He was now afraid his actions had been too rash. Dr. Brighton had tried to warn him by making him weigh the potential consequences, but he was blinded by the grandness of the opportunity. Had he made a mistake? Was he strong enough to withstand the training? The danger?

“Zeus,” Dr. Brighton corrected. “Please call me Zeus when in the Olympic Tower.”

“Sorry, I . . . uh . . . haven’t gotten used to that yet,” Landon apologized. “I was just wondering, is it worth it?”

“Is what worth it, Apollo?”

“All of this—the training, the mission, risking your life—is it worth it?”

“Unequivocally, yes,” Dr. Brighton reassured him, abandoning his stern demeanor and looking at Landon through his deep green eyes like a father would regard his worried son. “The gratification that comes from keeping the country safe makes all the pain and danger worth it.”

The sound of the lift descending into the Palaestra suddenly echoed through the room. Landon, Dr. Brighton, and the other members of the Pantheon broke from their respective activities and turned to see who was entering the training center. Dr. Wells was standing with his chest raised and his arm around a short girl beside him. Landon recognized her immediately: cropped blonde hair, pale but luminous skin, and deep violet eyes.

“Peregrine?” he blurted out.

Dr. Wells began his introduction just as he had when Landon stood at his side a short while ago. “Pantheon! Gather around, please! I must introduce you to your newest teammate!”

Everyone headed toward the lift, but as Brock and the Cranes passed by Landon, he decided there was no better time to handle something that’d been weighing on his mind since Dr. Wells introduced him to his teammates.

“Brock!” Landon shouted. Brock and the Cranes stopped and turned on the spot, but after a nod from Brock, the Cranes continued on without him. Landon caught up to Brock and continued, “About everything that’s happened—I hope that we can put it behind us. We’re on the same team now, and the snowball fight was just a game.” Brock offered no reply. He stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest without saying a word. “I just hope that there’s no bad blood between us now that we’re going to be working together.”

Brock slowly uncrossed his arms and moved closer to Landon. He extended his right arm, waiting for Landon to shake his hand. Landon stared at him, momentarily bewildered by his reaction, and then grabbed Brock’s hand with his own.

“Sorry if my hand’s sweaty,” Landon said apologetically.

Before Landon realized what was happening, Brock had pulled him close, wrapped his left arm around Landon’s shoulder and kept his right hand locked in mid-handshake, giving him a seemingly brotherly hug. Landon tensed up, unsure how to react. After a moment, he attempted to back out of the masculine embrace, but couldn’t move. Brock was holding him securely in place. Landon tried to wiggle free, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t break free. He couldn’t believe how strong Brock was.

“Listen here, Apollo,” Brock whispered into Landon’s ear. “You may have been asked to be a part of the Pantheon, but make no mistake, you don’t belong here, and I’m going to make sure you know it.” Landon shifted his eyes around the room, looking to see if anyone was aware of what was happening, but no one seemed to notice. “And here, in this place,” Brock continued, saying each word pointedly, making sure Landon heard him, “Brock doesn’t exist. I’m Ares. Call me Brock again, and you will regret it. There aren’t any stupid rules and restrictions here.”

“Ares! Apollo! Come, now!” Dr. Brighton commanded.

Brock released Landon from his firm grip and headed to the lift to line up with the others. Landon was momentarily frozen in place, rattled by Brock’s threats. He feared, in his attempt to bury the hatchet, that he had just made their relationship worse. Landon shook it off and followed Brock to the rest of the group.

“Wasn’t that adorable,” Cortland joked as Landon filed in next to him.

“You know, I used to think you were cool,” Landon lightheartedly said to him, “but now, after those drills, I know you’re actually Rosemary’s Baby.”

Cortland smiled, and both turned to watch Dr. Wells introduce Peregrine.

“Pantheon, I’d like you to meet Echo.”

Peregrine Mortimer stood beside the platform with a beaming smile. It reminded Landon of the one she had worn the night she helped him in the Atrium—the only other time he had ever seen her look happy. Landon didn’t know much about Peregrine’s past, but given her social standing at the Gymnasium and her condition, he wondered if she had ever been selected for something so monumental. She had probably always been picked last or left out of things altogether while growing up, so it seemed natural that she would be ecstatic about being chosen to join the Pantheon. Had she, too, been warned of the danger?

“I believe her unique talents will far surpass her shortcomings in what we typically look for in a potential agent,” Dr. Wells continued. “Echo has an unprecedented extensity, and her tactometric sensitivity is unparalleled. Both of these facts we failed to recognize until the First Frost Frenzy. Her abilities allow her to clearly sense everything going on across great distances, which will allow her to provide much-needed mission support on the ground. She is a highly sophisticated, cognitively processed radar who will be far more valuable in the field than any piece of tech Verne could dream up.”

Landon gave Peregrine a gentle nod of welcome; she smiled a bit wider in reply.

• • • • •

Two weeks later, Landon was standing in the Palaestra. Only a twelve-by-twelve square of white tiles in the center of the floor was lit up; the walls and ceilings were black, leaving the vast training room eerie and dark. He stood just outside the lighted squares, the glow from the floor casting strange shadows over his face and distorting the actions of Cortland and Brock as they fought in the sparring area.

Parker and Peregrine stood beside him, similarly transfixed by the match currently playing out. Brock swung his right arm, but Cortland was too fast and managed to duck down, avoiding the flying fist.

Landon’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched. It was only the first of the sparring matches, but his heart had been racing ever since Dr. Brighton told him that today was the day he’d have to display his progress in combat training by facing off against Jeremiah. He wasn’t sure how he could compete against people who’d been in the Pantheon for months, if not years, when he only had two weeks of instruction.

The Pantheon had adapted the United States Marine Corps martial arts program, and its physical and mental requirements fell far beyond what Landon was comfortable with. He enjoyed the Okinawan karate, judo and jujutsu. They made him think back fondly to the Tai Chi he’d done with Dr. Brighton in the Secret Garden for all those weeks before the First Frost Frenzy. It felt liberating to kick and punch the rubber dummies during his instruction, cathartic to choke the “life” out of its plastic neck or grapple it into submission, but now he’d have to fight a person—a real, breathing person. Would he remember the “appropriate use of force” when he was trying to punch, kick and subdue Jeremiah? He always felt weird when they were instructing him on appropriate use of force and how to identify and use weapons of opportunity. It made everything real. Landon didn’t think about hurting the rubber dummies, but if he didn’t heed the words of his instructors, there was a good chance he could hurt or very well kill someone.

Landon tried to calm his nerves as he watched Cortland kick at Brock’s side. Brock blocked it with his forearm.

Landon gulped, envisioning himself in the same spot as soon as the current bout was over.

Brock landed a hard punch against Cortland’s jaw, and Landon glanced over to Peregrine. She grimaced and slammed her eyes shut. Landon wondered if she was feeling as nervous as he was. After Landon fought Jeremiah, it would be her turn against Parker.

Cortland sprung backward, pressing one hand to his face, and started shuffling around the ring. It was impossible to see the expression on Cortland’s face, but Landon could feel his determination to beat the top fighter on the Pantheon. Suddenly, Cortland lunged forward, his arms outstretched to tackle Brock, but with unbelievable speed, Brock sidestepped out of Cortland’s path like a matador and wrapped his arm around Cortland’s neck. He secured it with his other arm. Cortland was in a perfect sleeper hold, and there was no way he’d be able to escape from Brock’s super-human strength.

The seconds passed like minutes, everything transpiring in slow motion as Cortland moved toward his inevitable defeat. Brock’s arm was slowly cutting off the supply of oxygen to Cortland’s brain, and it was only a matter of time before Cortland was tapped out or passed out. Even in the dim light, Landon could see his eyes start to roll back in his head. Brock slowly guided Cortland to the floor once Cortland’s legs began to give out. Landon was afraid his legs would give out any second, too. He’d never been in a real fight before. . . . He wasn’t even sure he’d ever truly hit anyone.

A moment later, Dr. Brighton stepped into the white square and called the match. “All right, victory goes to Ares!” His voice echoed through the nearly empty Palaestra.

Brock released the chokehold, stood up, and helped Cortland to his feet, holding him up until he regained full consciousness. After they nodded to each other in respect, Cortland walked slowly and uncertainly over to Landon on the sidelines.

“You ready for this?” he asked, panting. “No one expects you to win your first match, so just do your best.”

“I’ll try.” Landon could feel bile rising in his throat. He was as ready as he’d ever be, but that didn’t reassure him in the least.

“Pollux and Apollo! The ring! Now!” Dr. Brighton ordered.

Landon took a deep breath and gingerly stepped into the brightly lit square. Jeremiah did the same from the other side of the ring. His white teeth gleamed in the light as he smiled at Landon, but it wasn’t a mean or menacing smile. He almost seemed proud, like he was excited that Landon was getting one step closer to being a full-fledged member of the Pantheon. The Pantheon was like a secret society, and the sparring matches were a sort of initiation. Landon would have to prove his worth to one day become an active agent.

“You both know the rules,” Dr. Brighton said. “Hand-to-hand combat only—no abilities, no weapons—and the match is over only when one of you submits or can’t continue.”

Landon and Jeremiah nodded to Dr. Brighton in understanding and then bowed their heads to one another. Dr. Brighton stepped out of the ring.

“Go!” he said, his voice echoing through the Palaestra.

Landon instantly raised his hands to protect his face as he’d been taught and began to circle the ring.

“You can do it, Apollo!” Peregrine yelled from the sidelines.

Hearing her cheer calmed Landon’s nerves slightly. He felt a bit of weight lift from his shoulders, knowing that someone was rooting for him to do well. He knew he wasn’t getting the same support from everyone in the Pantheon.

“Come on already!” Brock shouted impatiently.

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes and stepped toward Landon with his fists clenched. He swung hard at Landon’s face, but Landon managed to block his attempt with his arm. His forearm seared with pain. He couldn’t believe how much it hurt.

Jeremiah launched another punch with the other hand, and Landon managed to bob his head out of the way just in time. A split-second later, Jeremiah’s leg was speeding toward Landon’s side. Landon gasped and clenched his teeth as it connected. He felt his entire torso constrict as the pain surged through his body. He could feel the heat of his abilities fire in his core, but he fought to suppress them.

Then with lightning speed, Jeremiah stepped forward, hooked one foot behind Landon’s left leg, and yanked back, pulling Landon’s foot out from under him and knocking him to the ground.

Landon scrambled to his feet and took a few steps away from Jeremiah. Embarrassed and still feeling pain in his arm and side, Landon tried to think. Jeremiah was small, agile and fast. There was no hope for Landon to beat him in close quarters because he just wouldn’t be able to keep up with his maneuvers.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shorts and started circling the ring as Jeremiah pivoted around the center. Jeremiah cracked his knuckles and smiled again. This smile did not convey pride in his teammate, but rather, Bring it on!

“Come on, Apollo! You can do it!” Peregrine cheered from the sidelines.

Jeremiah’s head snapped toward her voice. “What about me, Echo? You don’t want me to win?” He sounded genuinely hurt that he was not receiving Peregrine’s support.

Landon suddenly saw his opportunity. He dove headlong at Jeremiah, his hands outstretched, and managed to wrap his arms around his midsection, knocking him to the ground. They slid across the floor for a few feet, and Landon struggled to pin down Jeremiah. His judo training ran through his mind as he tried to think of the best hold to move into from his current position, but Landon couldn’t think of a single one. He just fought to maintain his grip on Jeremiah, who was wriggling and writhing around to get free. Landon tightened his arms, hoping to at least hold on. He couldn’t believe how tiring this was. He felt like he was using every muscle in his body just to hold the spry Crane brother to the ground.

He could feel his grip slipping. Jeremiah was breaking free, and he didn’t know what to do to stop him. Then, like a snake, Jeremiah slid out of Landon’s hold, wrapped his body around Landon and trapped Landon’s arm between his legs. Landon couldn’t even process it fast enough. One moment he had Jeremiah pinned down, his arms around his waist, and the next, in a confusing tumble of arms and legs, he was lying on his back with the heat of the floor tiles against his neck. Jeremiah was positioned across Landon’s shoulders. He’d pulled Landon’s left arm between his legs and was working to extend it toward his chest in a classic armbar.

Landon struggled to keep his arm bent, knowing it was the only thing stopping him from feeling the unbearable pain of an armbar. He wished he’d watched more of the mixed martial arts matches his dad had ordered on pay-per-view in their apartment. If he had, he might have known a way to get out of this situation, but instead, all he could do was hold on for as long as his muscles would allow.

Gritting his teeth, Landon tried to muster as much strength as possible to stop Jeremiah. His bicep, forearm and shoulder burned. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Finally he couldn’t hold on any longer, his muscles gave out, and his arm sank into the submission hold. The instant Jeremiah touched Landon’s hand to his chest, it felt like a hot poker was being jabbed into the crux of Landon’s elbow. The pain was all-consuming, surging through his body, clouding his mind, and blocking out anything but the searing agony. He tried not to scream. He tried to hold on. He so desperately did not want to give up. But there was nothing he could do. His arm felt moments away from breaking, and all he wanted was to make the pain stop. Defeated, Landon tapped the floor with his free right hand. Dr. Brighton rushed into the ring and stopped Jeremiah, who released Landon’s arm once he was aware Landon had given up.

Jeremiah rolled back, popped to his feet, and quickly moved to help up Landon. Landon struggled to his feet. His left arm still throbbed painfully, and he felt so embarrassed. What was that? I bet no one’s ever done as badly as I just did.

“Good job, Apollo,” Jeremiah said as Landon finally felt sure on his feet again. “You almost had me.” He was panting slightly, which made Landon feel a bit better about his performance.

“Thanks.” Landon smiled. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Not likely.” Jeremiah smiled back at him.

Landon stumbled out of the lighted square into the shadows of the Palaestra, disheartened by his loss but still proud of himself for completing his first sparring match, and excited to see where his training would take him.