Chapter 13 : Talent Copy
Sugar moved like water flowing around stone.
I'd watched him spar dozens of times during my training sessions, but I'd never really observed him—not with the focused attention the system was now demanding. This morning was different. This morning, I sat on a bench at the edge of the training floor and watched Sugar work through three rounds with a heavyweight who had sixty pounds on him.
The heavyweight was good. Former professional, according to gym gossip. Quick hands, solid footwork, the kind of experience that usually overwhelmed less seasoned opponents.
Sugar made him look like a beginner.
It wasn't speed—Sugar was actually slower on raw reaction time. It wasn't strength—the heavyweight had him beat there too. It was something else. Something the system had started highlighting in my peripheral vision the moment Sugar stepped into the ring.
[TALENT DETECTED: Combat Instinct][CLASSIFICATION: Physical/Perceptual][DESCRIPTION: Subconscious threat prediction based on micro-cues][OBSERVATION REQUIRED: 8 minutes minimum][CURRENT PROGRESS: 0%]
I kept watching.
Sugar slipped a jab before it started. Not before it landed—before the heavyweight's shoulder even began rotating. He read intention in muscle tension, in weight distribution, in the slight shift of eyes that preceded every attack.
[OBSERVATION PROGRESS: 23%]
The heavyweight threw a combination: jab, cross, hook. Sugar was already somewhere else by the time the first punch arrived. He countered with a body shot that landed exactly where the heavyweight's guard had been a moment ago, targeting the opening that existed because he knew—somehow—that the guard would move.
[OBSERVATION PROGRESS: 47%]
"Hey, Sugar!" I called out during a break. "How do you read the timing so well?"
He turned, toweling off sweat. "What do you mean?"
"The way you know where punches are going before they get there. Is that something you can teach, or..."
Sugar walked over, drinking from a water bottle. The heavyweight behind him was bent over, gasping.
"It's not something you learn from books," Sugar said. "Comes from getting hit enough times that your body starts recognizing the signs. After a few thousand punches, you stop thinking about it. You just... know."
[OBSERVATION PROGRESS: 68%]
"A few thousand punches." I let that sink in. "So it's experience."
"Experience, instinct, call it what you want." He shrugged massive shoulders. "Some guys never get it. They can be technically perfect and still get surprised. Other guys—" He gestured vaguely. "—they just feel it. Like they're reading a book everyone else can't see."
[OBSERVATION PROGRESS: 89%]
I asked more questions. Kept him talking about specific situations, specific reads. How did he know when someone was going to feint versus commit? How did he predict clinch attempts? What was the difference between an aggressive fighter and a smart one?
Sugar answered patiently, probably assuming I was trying to improve my own training. Which I was—just not in the way he thought.
[OBSERVATION COMPLETE: 100%][TALENT COPY AVAILABLE: Combat Instinct][TALENT SLOT REQUIRED: 1][CURRENT SLOTS: 1/1][ACCEPT COPY? Y/N]
I accepted.
The change wasn't dramatic. There was no flash of light, no surge of power, no moment of transformation. Instead, something shifted in the way I perceived the room.
The heavyweight walking toward the water fountain—his weight was slightly forward, favoring his right leg. Probably a knee issue. If he came at me, he'd lead with his left.
The trainer adjusting equipment near the free weights—her grip on the dumbbell was tense, knuckles white. Stress about something unrelated to the gym.
The kid shadowboxing in the corner—his footwork kept him planted too long after combinations. A sweeping kick would catch him mid-recovery every time.
[TALENT INTEGRATED: Combat Instinct (Echo)][NOTE: Copied talent operates at approximately 60% of source effectiveness][PASSIVE BONUS: Threat Assessment +3 effective levels][ACTIVE BONUS: Combat skills enhanced when talent is engaged]
I stood up too fast. The gym tilted slightly—vertigo from the sudden influx of new perceptual data. I grabbed the bench for support.
"You okay?" Sugar's voice, concerned.
"Yeah." I blinked hard, forcing my vision to stabilize. "Stood up too fast. Low blood sugar, probably."
"Go eat something." He pointed toward the door. "Come back tomorrow. No point training if you're going to pass out."
I walked out of the gym on unsteady legs, the world looking different with every step.
The test came an hour later.
I was walking back to my apartment through a neighborhood that wasn't dangerous but wasn't exactly safe either. The kind of area where you kept your head on a swivel and your wallet in your front pocket.
Two men fell into step behind me.
The old Sheldon—the one from three weeks ago—wouldn't have noticed until they got close. Wouldn't have read the predatory synchronization in their footsteps or the way they were gradually closing distance while maintaining casual spacing.
The new Sheldon saw everything.
The taller one had a knife. Right front pocket, based on the way his hand kept drifting toward it and the slight bulge in his jeans. The shorter one was the talker—he'd initiate the approach while his partner moved to flank.
I adjusted my route without appearing to, turning down a side street that looked like a shortcut but actually put a wall at my back and limited their angles of approach.
They followed.
"Hey, friend." The shorter one's voice was friendly, practiced. "Got a second?"
I turned to face them both, positioning myself so the taller one couldn't circle without me seeing it. My body settled into a stance Sugar had drilled into me—weight balanced, hands loose, ready to move in any direction.
The taller one's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the shift. Understood what it meant.
"Never mind," he said to his partner. "Wrong guy."
They walked away. Not running—that would be admitting defeat—but definitely faster than they'd approached.
I watched them go, heart pounding, adrenaline singing through my veins.
[ENCOUNTER AVOIDED: Threat Assessment successful][COMBAT INSTINCT: Active integration confirmed][NOTE: Talent Copy functioning within expected parameters]
I stood in the alley for another minute, letting my heartbeat slow.
Sugar had spent decades developing that instinct. Thousands of fights, tens of thousands of punches thrown and received. A lifetime of training and experience distilled into a single perceptual gift.
And I'd copied it in nine minutes.
The system didn't track guilt. It didn't measure the ethical weight of taking something someone had earned through suffering. It just logged the acquisition and moved on.
I walked home through streets that looked different now—every shadow assessed, every stranger evaluated, every potential threat cataloged before it could become actual danger.
Michael had asked what I was. I still didn't have a good answer.
But I was starting to understand the question better.
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