Still Falling YOU TRICKED ME
Val's bags had cut welts into his fingers by the time he pushed through the mall exit toward heat and open asphalt. Receipts rattled in one sack; fluorescent light fell away behind him while mall music thinned through the glass doors. Ordinary Saturday—no gate summons, just errands a licensed student could finish without armor.
He had noticed them once in the food court—a row of familiar faces lingering near the condiment station while he paid for rice and dish soap. Three shapes in the window reflection, not quite shopping. He had told himself he was imagining it and kept walking.
The carpark spread in flat rows under a pale sky. Exhaust hung between the rows; tar shimmered under the sun. He thumbed the unlock fob; a chirp answered from three bays down. His eyes dropped to the door handle.
Between a sedan and a hatchback, bodies uncoiled—two or three of them, light murderous intent, closing with the kind of approach that hugged blind spots instead of walking straight. The paper sack slipped. A receipt skittered across grease-stained asphalt. Val's hands were full at exactly the wrong second.
His calves were already tired when the first one committed. The three on open asphalt, timed for the moment his groceries hit the ground—that was enough. His knees still knew how to buckle for a crowd at the main gate. This lot was empty. This time he didn't slow down for show.
The lead rushed from a blind angle. Val read the line of the charge half a step early, shifted, locked the wrist, and drove his elbow down until the boy's knees met asphalt. Breath punched out of him in a wet gulp. Skin scraped tar. The rolling grocery sack bumped his ankle and kept going.
A second boy peeled wide while the first was still folded on the ground. Thin Aura ran along his knuckle; the strike meant to cut skin met packed Aura instead and skidded off hardened surface like a blade on stone. Val redirected the weight before the boy could recover, twisted him into the sedan's bumper, and metal buckled with a dull crack. Somewhere nearby a car alarm chirped once and died.
The third froze half a step, flight winning over nerve. Val was already inside his guard before the hesitation became a run. One motion stole the balance; the next put him on his back beside the others. Three bodies on open asphalt. Val stood over them, chest working, adrenaline hot in his palms.
He looked down at the heap of them.
"Leave me alone."
He didn't raise his voice. The first boy crab-walked backward, clutching his wrist. The second rolled to his knees and couldn't seem to stand straight. The third looked up at Val like the math wouldn't close. Shoes scraped grease stains as they retreated between parked rows. One of them muttered under his breath: "Fix Valaciel." Val let them go.
Nobody stepped out from between the cars. Nobody said who had sent them.
Rice had spilled from the torn sack across the bay. Val scooped what he could into the trunk with the rest of the bags, flexed his fingers, and checked for blood. Dawn would not hear it. Neither would the twins, Ashley, or Alex.
He merged into traffic. The mall complex shrank in the mirror behind him. Errands done.