Chapter
Kyanosa lay on the bed, with his ankles crossed and right hand under his head, staring at the ceiling. He'd use both hands, but the cast on his left arm made things difficult. At the moment, he had his Mix powers set to Yo-yo and Mirror, and a glass disc with a two-foot diameter was floating about the room. He was controlling it with his mind, which he found really nifty. And since he wasn't entirely sure what it did, it was smashing into various objects, shattering, and being reformed. So far he had concluded that it did not block ceilings or walls. Still, it was fun to see it explode. Repeatedly.
It was right before one particular shatter that the door opened, letting a young man into the room. Kyanosa's previous affinity for glass decided to screw him over once again, and it just so happened that the aforementioned crash was aimed right at the door. The man screamed and ducked expertly, and the disc sailed through the door, smashing into the opposite wall in the hallway. Ah, fate.
Kyanosa looked up, trying to figure out why the heck the door was open, and really didn't expect to see a fellow passenger rise from the ground and try to throttle him. He quickly turned off his shield, afraid that somebody would step on it and he'd end up with a broken leg instead, and raised his right hand in a "stop or I'll whine" gesture.
"Yo, hang on here. Sorry about that."
The young man (actually, 'teenager' might be a better description) stopped his threatening advance and looked Kyanosa over. Now here was a genuine freak. Hair that looked like it had been styled for that just-woke-up look, pants and shoes made of metal, and a cast on the left arm gave the Reader's Digest Condensed Version of how Kyanosa's last few hours had gone. And the fact that he could fling mirrors through the air telepathically all but screamed "disturbed individual." First impressions aren't everything, but they count for a lot when you can't be sure if you're getting a second.
He pointed to the door. "Could you please explain why you just nearly severed my head?"
Kyanosa shrugged. "Probably not. Or at least it wouldn't be an explanation that you'd like to hear." He smiled, then tilted his head. "If you'll excuse my frankness, who are you? I don't remember you being involved in any of the predicaments in which we continually seem to involve ourselves."
The teenager grumbled. Another product of the information-driven society he had hoped an interdimensional journey would help him allude.
"Joshua Renil. And what are you?"
"Kyanosa Canopus, resident laughingstock." He held out his hand to be shaken, but Joshua just looked at him. "Fine, another antisoc*, I can deal with that; this vehicle is replete with them. Again, why haven't I seen you before? I thought I had been in the presence of all crew members on at least once each on an occasion where I was made an object of ridicule."
"I tend to blend into the background. Come to think of it, I haven't seen you either."
"You're kidding. Just follow the laughter. Or explosions."
"Ah, so that's what that was. Well, I'll leave you to your...hobbies." He turned to leave, then looked back at Kyanosa. "Are all the rooms this spectacular, or is there someplace decent?"
Kyanosa looked at his room. Truth be told, it wasn't great. It was a few feel longer than the length of his bed and square, without a window. More like a closet than a room, but it gave him the opportunity to practice his powers. That at least explained the scorch marks on the far wall.
"No, I was granted a suite in light of my temporary physical inability."
Joshua laughed in the most fake manner that he could, considering tossing him out of the train. He hated people like that: the sarcastic ones who tires to lord over people they had just met, assuming themselves better by virtue of the sole fact that they say so. He spun to leave in a huff, running straight into Mazzic. Joshua gave them both a glare and left.
Mazzic walked into Kyanosa's cabin-closet. "Who was that?"
"He's a guy on the train. An angry guy. No fun."
Mazzic looked back outside. "He's gone now. Anyway, go to sleep. Everybody else is, and you're bad enough when you're tired. Make enough dumb comments and I'll break your other arm."
Kyanosa settled back into the position he had at the beginning of the chapter. "Don't worry."
Mazzic nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Kyanosa was back in his room, alone with his thoughts. So he had made another non-friend. Well, no biggie. At least a few people liked him. Okay, so it was more like they didn't want him dead. Or wanted him dead less than the others. And there was always the possibility that he was all wrong, and then he was back to the same notion that he really didn't have any friends on the train at all. Just an unwanted character going with the flow, sitting back and watching everything take place to everybody else, especially now that he was down one arm. He felt totally useless, yet again.
God, he wanted off this train.
* pronounced an'-tie-sosh,
an abbreviation of antisocial and an acceptable noun form thereof.