#Patience

It was a normal day at the X-Club, party goers were blissfully unaware of the danger they were in, just one wrong step could turn them into a witness and consequently into a corpse. Most of the parahumans that managed the clud were also unaware themselves of the danger hidden in the deepest parts of the facility, in a cell completely made of Telekill with only sparse furniture also made of telekill resides a young looking man. The room only has a chair a bed and a table, all bolted to the floor, even the sheets are lined in telekill, for most people this would be considered overkill, as well as a waste of resources, but in this case both problems had reasons to be ignored. Tarkesh is the home of Telekill after all, and the man in the cell is considered dangerous enough to be worth it. Silence reigns in the small room, the subtle sound of breathing as the only exception, the man lies on the bed motionless, to many he may look dead even but he is simply meditating.

The silence is interrupted by the quickly aprroaching footsteps of a clearly anxious individual. "Hey man, I got your huu... book I think? It's a bit fuzzy but the boss wanted me to bring it to you." The figure presents a simple hardbound book from a small fissure in the solid steel door.

A hand extends on the other side, the sleeve receeding enough to reveal the shining Telekill locked brace clasped around the arm underneath. "Ah, Hendrick it has been a while. I see you have yet to get out of your bad habits, I hoped your last visit had more of an impact on you." The man retreats in his cell, book in hand, reflecting on his knowledge of his captors. Hendrick was just a recruit like him when they got here, and was always under the effect of some drug or poison, the excuse was that it was required to use it's powers, but reality was much simpler, it was addicted.

"Look man, I don't gotta listen to you talking shit, the boss says you are just trying to desterilize me." Poor Hendrick was not dumb, it was just too drugged up to reason properly, which the man in the cell found amusing in a very sad way.

"I believe the term would be destabilize if anything. There is nothing much sterile about you anyway to begin with. But getting rid of all the toxicity in your body probably would make you aware without the need of external help." This was one of of his few sources of entertainement, teasing and prodding his former friends, now reduced to mere things for the club to use. His jailors started diminishing however, or at least the ones he knew did, this was a dangerous life to live and way too many club tools believed in the saying (party like there is no tomorrow), to the point they made it a self fullfilling prophecy.

"I don't care about your correctiunsh and stuff. Why do you even want these boring as fuck books anyway!? They don't got pictures and they don't even have cool titles, the fuck is a Dictionary supposed to be?!" Sometimes being reminded of the inadeguacy of his own upbringing was just painful, he took no joy in knowing that an entire generation of club kids was this out of touch with the world, he would suffer even more if he knew the full extent of what was denied to him. He only recently started to receive books, when because of boredom one of the old jailers decided to drop a dictionary in his room. Ever since then he was allowed the small mercy of reading, even if the books were heavily monitored and selected by the old guard.

"You see my inebriated captor knowledge is power, I discovered that much too late. You never know when the right words may save your life. I would warn you to not make the same mistake as me but I am regretfully to late for that." Books were useful, a use that was precluded to him, but now he had all the time to remedy that, even if slowly.

"I don't udderstand half the words you sais but fuck you, I am going to party and you are not."

*"As if I would want to party with the likes of you."* His memory briefly flashes to the crazed people dancing and poisoning themselves, happy to dance with the potential killers, that is if they did not kill themselves first. The world was a horrible place, he was sure of that, but being free to try and change it was better than forcing himself to adapt to it. And the world already changed so much even in his unmoving cell, with the time he had maybe he would not even need to change it himself.

But time as plentiful as it was still should not be wasted. With slow practiced motions Leszek just warps the barce off his arm, The X-Club had trapped him in this cell based on the fact Telekill should work on him, however it did not on it's own. The day of his capture he had been injected with a numerous amount of drugs and toxins, some from strange powers, most from whatever Hendrick drank that night, and one of them managed to make him weak to telekill. With time his body purged the drug, it was a surprise being able to feel the material around him again, especially since it was telekill. The bad news was that out there a chemical compound existed that would make him vulnerable and he had no idea what it was, the good news was that nobody else knew either and they all believed him to be neutralized.

And so he decided to lay low, pretending his powers did not work biding his time, he already failed once because he was too hasty, he would not make the same mistake again. So after stretching his wrists a bit he put the brace back on, laid down on the bed and closed his eyes, with his new book in hand he stared to read. The time of change was close, he could feel it in the walls, in the hurried footsteps of his jailors, something big was happening and he was ready to take advantage of it. Now he just had to wait, and learn all he could. *"Just a little more, then it's Showtime"*