Jed’s eyes snapped open to the shrill cry of his first alarm going off. The morning had arrived faster than expected. He jolted awake to his roommate’s absence, clutching the body pillows. Slowly he released his grip, hurling the pillows off the bed and kicking them back into storage.

Hurriedly, he got dressed. No time to spare, and certainly no chance to catch public transport. He’d have to fly—which, he noticed, he had been doing a lot more lately.

Jed meticulously laid out all the possible outfit combos for the day. White tank top, white sweats. White tank top, white shorts. Black tank top, black sweats. He had never noticed how monochromatic his closet had gotten over the years.

Then, his second alarm went off.

What?!? Already???

He shook his head, clearing his mind and diving back into business. Pulling his phone out from his pocket, Jed opened up the internet browser to the solitary tab he had used since getting it, and focused on the wardrobing section of his boxing techniques PDF. The front page displayed an image of a guy with his trainer. Jed quickly examined the trainee's attire. Okay. Made sense. He grabbed the white tank top and shorts and ran to grab his sneakers—wait… Why was there only one…

No!

Jed’s mind flashed back to the awful fate his left shoe had met the other day when he attempted to force Harvey to play fetch. Well. There was nothing he could do. He had to go! Jed dashed to the edge of the tower crane, sans left shoe, and leaped off, immediately spreading his wings to glide. It had been a while since he attempted that move.

As he approached the facility, three figures stared at Jed from the sky—Vanessa and her duo of assistants. A spark of relief flickered in Jed’s chest. If they were still here, outside, that had to mean he hadn’t taken too long, right? He took a deep breath, hyping himself up, and hovered for a moment. Then, Jed began his careful descent onto the concrete below.

Vanessa pulled out her phone, desperately wanting to capture a snapshot of this view—it was a sight his fans were sure to appreciate. Suspended in the air, Jed framed by the sun. For his background, a vibrant blue sky with billowing clouds stretched out into the distance, wrapping politely around his expansive, pearlescent white wings. His tight white tank top certainly pulled it all together.

Post photo-op, Vanessa gazed at the picture. It felt very… accidental renaissance. She already knew the audience she wanted to reach with him, but, after seeing this image, Vanessa knew the angle she’d take with his physical branding. Greek mythology; Biblical art, of course. It made total sense—he was an angel after all.

Vanessa’s sight drifted back to the real Jed standing on the sidewalk, taking him all in. He was tall, with very distinct features, teetering on unconventional but still very attractive. There was a pronounced jawline, black brows nestled low and thick, puffy jowls, and a head of curly white hair with blue lowlights. His eyes were a dramatic almond shape, but gigantic, and a near white hue. His physique was built, but softened by the array of freckles embellishing his skin, and re-intensified by the natural dark rings encircling his eyes, akin to the red coloration doves had around theirs. Vanessa grinned; he was perfect, exactly the type of client she needed to bring her latest endeavor to life. She was so tired of marketing to the rambunctious guys who lived to watch boxers beat each other senseless. With Jed, she could finally do what she wanted.

“Extra cautious for your first day of training, Jed?” Vanessa chimed in, beckoning him closer to the entrance.

Jed flashed an excited smile and eagerly agreed. Nervously, he pinched the ends of his tank top, pulling it out slightly. He really wanted Vanessa to see that he was wearing all the right stuff. “I think you mean my first spar.”

“Oh, wow! Someone here totally knows their stuff,” she exclaimed, teasing him ever so slightly as she opened the door. “Now get inside. 10AM sharp means 9:30AM next time, Jed. So, like, let’s try and be punctual, 'kay? I've got a few other clients to handle today.”

Oops. He walked in, suddenly humbled. She finished her thought with: “Your trainer is waiting. And he hates that.”

As Jed surveyed the room, curious and eager to meet the person who would be working closely with him for the next few years, he found it seemingly completely empty.

“You’re going to have to find him now!” Vanessa sing-songed. “Duh! Didn’t you do any research on him?” There was a long beat. “Oh. Or did I totally forget to mention who it was?”

“Um… I don’t think you told me.” Jed said. Then, not wanting to sound ungrateful, added: “But, that’s okay. I like a challenge.”

“Well good. Because you’re about to play a long game of hide-and-seek, sweetie. And I’m not gonna help.” She gave him a quick pat on the lower back then gracefully took a seat on one of the benches in the back.

“Hide-and-seek?” There was no way Jed heard that right.

“Yup. That’s what I said, silly. Whenever his athletes are late, he makes them find him. Hiding is his specialty.” She then answered her ringing phone.

Before beginning, Jed eavesdropped long enough to discern it was a call with one of her other boxing clients — a guy. Whatever. A twinge of unusual jealousy shot through him. He quickly dismissed it, chalking it up to annoyance at the fact that she was using their time together to deal with someone else.

Preparing to confront this peculiar challenge head-on, Jed sighed. He really wanted to get this hazing ritual over with.

First, he explored every room and checked under every conceivable object within them. Boxes, bags—everything. After nearly 15 minutes of fruitless investigation, he looked over at Vanessa, hoping she’d help him. However, she didn't even look up, too engrossed in her call. He noticed she looked stressed, so Jed decided not to press further.

With every ground option exhausted, Jed went airborne. His wings unfurled, carrying him above as he explored the room from a new vantage point. Still, no luck. With fleeting hope, Jed approached the last uncharted corner nestled between two walls and felt around. Again, all that greeted him was a totally flat surface. Frustration mounting and options depleted, Jed gave up. He began to sink down, deciding he would lie on the floor in surrender until his trainer came out of the woodwork to take pity on his lack of observational skills.

As he made his descent, his foot suddenly collided with an unexpectedly soft surface. The object, almost expertly mirroring the wall’s color, tumbled over and wriggled away in a hasty escape attempt.

Now on the wooden planks, the human-like outline of this thing became visible, its colors swirling and shifting to match the floor, fast. Jed’s heart raced with both the excitement of finding his trainer and the fear of the wall suddenly coming to life. Landing swiftly, he seized the transforming mess of colors, not even registering he had done so without his usual caution.

Grasping the half floorboard, half wallpaper figure by the nape of their neck, Jed hoisted them up to meet him, their faces close. After a brief struggle, the trainer’s colors transformed back to a very human, deep tan, revealing his features in full. Jed looked into his bright, golden eyes, noting the intricate weaving and patterning within the iris. Scales of various sizes plastered themselves around his face, each one a different, darker shade of his natural tone. They were the most prominent near his narrow eyes and downturned nose. His hair, a dark red, was pulled up into a half ponytail. Oh. Jed thought. He’s a chameleon!

“Okay, okay. You found me. Now put me down. And stop holding me by my neck!! I’m not an animal!” Despite his trainer’s pleas, Jed found the situation too amusing to let go. Now who had the upper hand? No wonder this guy could hide—he was tiny. Probably just grazing 5’5” on a good day. “Please!! I’m not wearing any clothes!”

Suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore. Jed drops him in horror. “What??”

“What do you mean, what?! If I’m going to hide, I can’t wear anything. It’ll give me away. I’m the only thing that can camouflage, not my pants.”

Jed averted his gaze, his face totally red.

“Ugh. Oh my god. Okay.” The trainer, annoyed, shifted colors again to blend with the wall. “I’ll leave LIKE THIS to save you from seeing me naked. Even though I’m literally in peak physical condition and have NOTHING to be ashamed about.”

Five minutes later, the trainer returned, now fully clothed in a handmade, woven, gold sweatsuit with a vibrant rainforest print—a choice that seemed oddly fitting for someone with an uncanny ability to blend in. He then dropped a duffel bag in front of Jed. Already unzipped, tons of spare shoes and gloves popped out, ready for him to borrow.

“My name is Amon, but you might know me as Chameleon. I competed in the 2067 bracket and lost after 11 rounds.” Amon extended his hand for a shake, but Jed was preoccupied.

“...Lost?” Jed turned to Vanessa, confusion etched across his face. Why would someone who lost be teaching him how to win?

“Wha— don’t look back at her! It was on purpose.” Amon retracted his handshake offer, instead reaching into the duffel bag to retrieve his focus pads. As he spoke, he strapped them on, and Jed noticed they matched his outfit, featuring a monogrammed AA in fancy gold font. He smirked at the sight—that seemed like overkill.

“I didn’t want to box, but I knew how popular those guys who did it got. This bracket is a worldwide event that has millions of viewers—people like Vanessa make a career out of just outfitting the fighters. It’s no joke.” Amon held his hands up, doing a little boxing bounce as he introduced himself. He then mimed a punch towards Jed, who instinctively backed away, slipping a little. With his wings unbound, it was hard to keep balance.

“I didn’t start as inexperienced as you, but I certainly wasn’t a winner. I had lost every single match before getting into the bracket.” Amon continued, his words laced with unabashed pride. “Which is why I’m here. I’m supposed to inspire you and show you it’s possible to go from total zero to an Olympic level winner.” Vanessa looked up at that, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, and my deal for throwing the 11th round was that I’d come back and train Vanessa’s new fighters. Which I'm sooooo happy about.” Amon threw that last part in, noticing Vanessa’s inscrutable gaze. As he went on and on about his totally awesome experience, Jed’s attention wavered, drawn to Vanessa’s presence. She was finally off the phone. "Totally wasn't looking forward to retiring or anything. Totally didn't have other dreams. Other ambitions."

“I have other trainers, but I thought you two would be a good match.” Vanessa finally joined the two of them, now free from her call, and placed a soft hand on their shoulders—so soft that Jed didn’t even flinch. Surprised, he stared at her, processing his first time being held by a stranger without worrying about catastrophe occuring. That was a first. She caught his gaze and Jed looked quickly away, suddenly feeling nervous. Vanessa gave him a strange look back. What? Why was he staring at her like that?

“Are you feeling okay?” Vanessa's voice sounded concerned. Jed nodded, stealing a quick glance at Amon, half-expecting a judgmental look.

“Great. Ames, make sure you stick to cardio, balance exercises, and shadow boxing until he’s ready—Jed is a total newbie. At…” she let go, then gestured around the room, to herself, to the gear, and to the assistants. “…all of this.”

Amon scoffed, incredulously, “I think I know how to train, lady.” He wriggled out of Vanessa’s mock group hug and grabbed a jump rope, throwing it at Jed.

“Start.”