Creed 1

He picked up the coin. Straightening, he saw the train finally coming to a rest at the platform down the escalator. Moving toward the gate he forced his way through the growing throng by weaving his leading hand in front of him, gently guiding those before him to the either side. It was a technique his Mother had given him. One of many. A simple trick at odds with most of the tricks she had given him.
Time was against him of course. The train would be leaving and he would be left behind if he didn't focus on the matter at hand. Train. Crowd. Moving from A to B.
Upon reaching the gate he deposited the coin into the slot releasing the gate. Now he ran, not too urgently. But to quicken his pace. He didn't want to draw attention to himself but he had to be on that train.
Just a few minutes ago he thought he'd been spotted doing a trick. Not a vulgar trick, but something out of the ordinary. He'd palmed off a $10 note for a $20 note. He needed to pay the taxi and the driver had given him a queer look whilst taking the note. Definitely not an everyday thing. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself. He was wondering as he stepped onto the train if the trick had been hastened to much and maybe the driver had partially seen through the trick.

His mother had always said that time would be the telling factor in any trick. Tricks are like most things and need time to get right. The real issue for him though was his impatience. Always rushing through things too quickly... His Mother had stated on a number of occasions that he would never make a good accountant.

Whilst looking down the aisle of the train car a feeling of excitement seemed to quicken the atmosphere of the train. Then he saw her. Alone at the front of the carriage. No doubt thinking nobody would notice her doing a trick that will help him mask his own. He starts to gather himself, becoming more and more focused as he moves down the aisle. His heart starting to beat faster.

The process was called building by the young ones who knew the tricks but the oldest referred to it as gathering. He liked that term better. It was more descriptive and fatalistic. And he liked things dramatic. Technical was of no interest to him. He'd much rather not plan than plan at all. His Mother said it would be his ultimate failing. Little did she know.

Just before reaching her he had enough of himself ready for the trick when she looked up and around at him. “Hello Mother...”
She starts to quickly gather herself, he can feel it “You shouldn't have revealed yourself, you always were impulsive”
Smiling and gesturing to the seat next to her she looked at him “Sit”

It was just a word. One word. He could feel her compelling him to sit. She could feel the weight of her will pushing at his own to comply and obey. It was almost futile to resist. Almost.

He sat anyway. The bitch could feel his struggle but would probably think she'd done it anyway and not him. Oh how power corrupts. She was smiling looking at him, wearing that belittling expression that she'd worn since the day he'd met her. He was looking forward to the next few minutes. “I can honestly say that I'm surprised you decided to move against me first. It surely must have dawned upon you that you have no hope of hurting me...”
I'll let the bitch go on yammering while I steady myself for what is about to come. She thinks she's in control but obviously doesn't know how I broke free.
“...Your resistance to us is to be commended for the initiative and creativity it's shown. And if it were up to me you would be assimilated back in to learn how you did it. Unfortunately for you, going against the grain of the collective is forbidden and punishable by death...”
She's about to do it... C'mon don't let me down. Use it. Can't let anybody here know what you're gonna do... Use it!
He can feel her gather again to herself again, the pressure on him eases and then almost recedes completely as she subconsciously draws on her power holding him.
Yes!
She closes her eyes and begins to shape her will to release a pattern. Everything seems to slow down. Just as the shape of her will changes he acts and releases the part of his will that was himself from her remaining grasp. Her eyes snap open and look at him. He holds her in place as he draws the knife from his pocket and quickly cuts her throat. The pattern she was shaping evaporates with the shock of what has just happened.
“Thats how I did it. All of you rely on your will too much when your hands can achieve the same result”
“ And you said I couldn't plan”

He gets up and makes his way quickly to the back of the train hoping that nobody else in the car has seen what just took place.