Riot of Love - Chapter 5 - The Empty Battery

The Drama Hall smelled of floor polish, stale PE kits, and victory.

To the Squad, it was the sweetest perfume on earth. Leo stood in the centre of the stage-which was really just a scuffed parquet floor with some black curtains-and surveyed their conquest. They had the Venue Licence. They had the keys. They had Mrs. Hatcher’s grudging respect.

"We are invincible," Jay declared, sliding across the floor in his socks like he was in Risky Business. "We prayed. The walls fell. We are literally the spiritual special forces."

Mia was already arranging chairs in a semi-circle, measuring the distance between them with her foot. "Don't get cocky, Jay. Mrs. Hatcher will revoke the licence if she finds a single speck of glitter. This is a glitter-free zone."

"I feel it though," Chloe said, spinning around with her phone, recording a story for the ministry account. "The momentum. It’s like we’ve levelled up. We connected with God, He answered, and now we’re ready to save the school."

Leo smiled, feeling the buzz of success. It was addictive. After months of drudgery, the breakthrough with the hall felt like proof that the P3 system worked. They had the Identity (Children). They had the Prayer (The Direct Line).

"We should go out," Leo said, checking his watch. It was 4:30 PM. "We’ve got the venue for the launch, but we don't have the people. Let’s go do some 'Proclamation'. Let’s invite people. Maybe pray for them on the street. If God can move Mrs. Hatcher, He can do anything."

"Street ministry?" Jay stopped sliding. "That sounds... extroverted."

"We’re the Squad," Leo said, feeling a surge of adrenaline. "We’re plugged in. Let’s go see what this power can actually do."

Thirty minutes later, the adrenaline had evaporated, replaced by the damp chill of a grey Tuesday afternoon.

They were standing outside the Tesco Express on the high street, clutching a stack of flyers Mia had printed on her dad’s office laserjet. The high street was busy with students grabbing meal deals and commuters rushing to the station. Nobody looked like they wanted to be saved. They mostly looked like they wanted to get out of the rain.

"This is awkward," Chloe whispered, clutching her flyers to her chest. "Everyone is looking at us like we’re trying to sell them insurance."

"Just look for the 'person of peace'," Leo said, quoting a sermon he’d heard once. "Someone who looks open."

They scanned the crowd. Mostly, they saw headphones and averted eyes. Then, Leo saw him.

Sitting on a flattened cardboard box near the cashpoint was a man everyone in the area knew vaguely as "Old Stan". He was a fixture of the high street-a bundle of matted coats, a grey beard stained with tobacco, and a pair of eyes that looked permanently watery. He was shivering, violently.

" Him," Leo said. "Let’s pray for him."

"For what?" Jay asked. "A house?"

"For... warmth. For peace. For God to touch him," Leo said. "Come on."

The Squad approached Stan. It felt like walking through treacle. The spiritual high of the Drama Hall felt a million miles away now that they were faced with the grit of reality.

"Excuse me?" Leo said, stepping closer. The smell hit him first-unwashed clothes, damp wool, and cheap cider. It was a sharp, physical barrier.

Stan looked up, squinting. "Spare some change, lads? Just for a tea."

"We don't have cash," Leo said, his voice sounding thin in the wind. "But... we’re Christians. We wanted to know if we could pray for you."

Stan stared at them. He looked confused, then disappointed, then slightly annoyed. "Pray? Can you pray me a sandwich?"

"We can pray for God to comfort you," Mia offered, stepping forward bravely. "We believe God can do miracles."

"My leg’s killing me," Stan grunted, rubbing his shin. "Got an ulcer. hurts like blazes when it rains."

Leo looked at the Squad. This was it. The moment. Prayer, Power, Proclamation.

"Can we... can we pray for your leg?" Leo asked.

Stan shrugged. "Do what you want. Just don't block the machine."

Leo nodded at the group. They formed a loose, awkward semi-circle. Leo reached out a hand, hovering it six inches above Stan’s muddy shoulder, too afraid to actually touch the grime.

"Father," Leo started. He tried to summon the authoritative voice he’d used with the Hatcher situation. "We thank You that You love Stan. We... uh... we command the pain to leave his leg."

He waited. He squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to 'push' spiritual energy out of his hand.

"We declare healing," Mia added, her voice trembling. "In Jesus' name."

"Be warmed and filled," Jay muttered, looking at his shoes.

They stood there for twenty seconds. The wind whipped Leo’s hair into his eyes. A woman squeezing past them to get to the ATM tutted loudly and muttered something about "blocking the pavement."

"Is that it?" Stan asked.

Leo opened his eyes. Stan was still shivering. He was still rubbing his leg. He looked exactly the same, only now he looked bored.

"Did... did you feel anything?" Chloe asked hopefully.

"I feel cold," Stan said. "And hungry."

Leo felt a flush of heat rise up his neck-not the Holy Spirit, but pure, unadulterated shame. They looked ridiculous. Four private school kids hovering over a suffering man, throwing religious words at him like confetti, with absolutely zero result.

"Right," Leo said, backing away. "Sorry. Sorry to disturb you."

"I’ll buy you a sandwich," Jay said abruptly. He turned and marched into the Tesco, emerging two minutes later with a meal deal and a hot coffee. He handed it to Stan.

"Cheers, lad," Stan said, cracking a toothless smile. "That’s the best prayer I’ve heard all day."

They walked away in silence. They didn't stop until they reached the park benches three streets over.

Mia sat down and put her head in her hands. "That was humiliating."

"We looked like idiots," Chloe agreed. "We promised him a miracle and gave him... nothing."

"We gave him a sandwich," Jay pointed out. "Eventually."

"But the prayer did nothing," Leo said, pacing back and forth on the wet grass. He felt hollowed out. The victory of the venue felt like a fluke now. "We tried to do the P3 thing. We prayed. We proclaimed. Why didn't it work? Why didn't the power show up?"

He pulled his phone out-his "Direct Line." It was fully charged. He had the connection. He knew his identity.

"I tried to make the call," Leo muttered, staring at the screen. "But nothing happened."

Jay looked up. "Maybe the phone works, Leo. But maybe the battery is dead."

They ended up back at David’s flat that evening. They hadn't planned to go, but nobody wanted to go home and sit with the failure alone.

David opened the door, took one look at their wet, miserable faces, and stepped aside. "Rough day at the office?"

They slumped into the mismatched armchairs. The upside-down glasses were still on the shelf, mocking them.

"We tried," Leo said, recounting the story of Stan, the prayer, and the humiliating silence. "We did everything right. We had the 'Child' mindset. We listened. We stepped out. But when we pulled the trigger... click. Empty chamber."

David listened, nodding slowly. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look disappointed. He walked over to a drawer and pulled out a sleek, expensive-looking smartphone.

"Nice phone," Jay noted.

"It is," David said. "Top of the range. 5G. Unlimited data plan. Direct line to anyone in the world."

He handed it to Leo. "Call your mum."

Leo took the phone. He tapped the screen. It was black. He pressed the side button. Nothing.

"It’s dead," Leo said.

"Is it?" David asked. "But the design is perfect. The internal wiring is flawless. You have the contract. You have the permission to use it."

"David, the battery is flat," Leo said, handing it back. "It’s a paperweight."

"Exactly," David said.

He sat down on his stool. "You lot have done the foundational work. You’ve shifted your Identity-that’s getting the contract. You’ve learned Prayer-that’s building the signal tower. But you walked up to a spiritual stronghold-sickness, poverty, demonic oppression-with a battery at zero percent."

"I thought being a Christian meant you had the Holy Spirit automatically," Mia said, frowning. "I got saved when I was six. Doesn't He live inside me?"

"He does," David agreed. "When you accept Jesus, the Spirit seals you. You’re plugged in. But there is a difference, Mia, between having the Spirit present in your life for salvation, and having the Spirit powering your life for ministry."

David leaned forward. "Jesus was the Son of God from birth, right?"

"Yeah," Jay said.

"But did He do any miracles before He was thirty?"

The Squad looked at each other.

"No," Leo realized. "Not until the baptism."

"Right," David said. "Jesus-God in the flesh-waited until the Holy Spirit descended on Him like a dove before He healed a single person or cast out a single demon. If Jesus needed to be powered up to do the job, what makes you think you can do it on your own steam?"

Leo thought about his hand hovering over Stan’s shoulder. He had been straining, trying to push something out of himself. He had been trying to use his own sympathy, his own energy, to fix a supernatural problem.

"You’re trying to run a high-drain app," David said, gesturing to the imaginary phone. "Healing the sick, speaking words of knowledge, shifting atmospheres-that takes high voltage. You can't do that on 'Power Save Mode'. You need the Anointing."

"The Anointing," Jay tested the word. "Sounds religious. Sounds like something you need a robe for."

"It’s just a word for the current," David said. "The dunamis. The dynamite. It’s the raw power of God that He gives to His children not to make them feel fuzzy, but to get the job done. You went to war today with a water pistol because you haven't asked for the ammunition."

"So how do we get it?" Chloe asked. "Do we have to earn it? Serve more? Pray harder?"

David laughed softly. "There you go again. Servant mentality. 'How do I earn the wage?'"

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the rain-slicked street.

"Jesus gave a promise," David said. "He said, 'If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?'"

He turned back to them. "It’s not a wage, Chloe. It’s a gift. But you have to actually want it. And you have to stop asking if He wants to give it, and start thanking Him that He has."

Leo looked at his hands. The same hands that had felt so useless earlier.

"We need to charge up," Leo said.

"Yes," David said. "And you don't do that by reading about electricity. You do it by plugging in."

The Drama Hall was dark when they returned at 9:00 PM. They hadn't turned on the main overhead lights, just the safety lights that cast a blue, ethereal glow across the floor.

It was just the four of them. No pizza. No agenda. No "Venue Licence" to celebrate. Just the crushing realisation that without power, they were just a social club with a Bible.

"So," Jay said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "We just... ask?"

"We ask," Leo affirmed. "But not like beggars. Like children asking for bread."

Leo opened his bag and pulled out the notes David had scribbled for them.

1. Acknowledge the Need. 2. Ask in Faith. 3. Be Open to Receiving.

"I’m scared," Chloe admitted, her voice echoing slightly in the empty hall. "What if it’s weird? What if I lose control? What if I start rolling on the floor?"

"God isn't weird," Leo said, though his own heart was hammering. "He’s our Dad. He’s not going to give us a scorpion if we ask for an egg. David said the Spirit is a gentleman. He doesn't force. He fills."

Leo took a deep breath. He stood up. He didn't want to sit. He wanted to be ready.

"I’m tired of being a dead battery," Leo said to the empty room. "I’m tired of seeing people like Stan and having nothing to offer them but a meal deal. I want the real stuff. I want the power that woke Jesus from the dead."

He held his hands out, palms up. A posture of receiving.

"Father," Leo prayed. His voice wasn't loud, but it was steady. "We’re here. We’re Your kids. And we admit it-we can't do this. We tried today, and we failed. We have zero power of our own."

Mia stood up next to him, lifting her hands. Then Chloe. Then, slowly, Jay unfurled his long limbs and stood, closing his eyes, his hands tentatively opening at his sides.

"We don't want to be employees anymore," Leo continued. "We want the inheritance. Jesus, You promised that we would receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on us. We’re asking for that now. Fill us. Charge us up. Not so we look cool. But so we can actually help people."

Come, Holy Spirit, Mia whispered.

They waited.

For a minute, it was just the sound of their breathing and the hum of the school’s heating system.

Then, Leo felt it.

It wasn't a lightning bolt. It wasn't a convulsion. It started as a warmth in his hands-the hands he was holding out. It felt like he was holding them over a radiator. The warmth travelled up his arms, into his chest. It felt... heavy. But a good heavy. Like a weighted blanket for his soul.

His mind, usually racing with anxiety and checklists, went completely, beautifully silent. The static was gone. In its place was a sense of presence so thick it felt like the air in the room had changed density.

He heard Chloe gasp softly.

Leo opened one eye. Chloe was crying, but she was smiling. Tears were streaming down her face, but she looked radiant. "He’s here," she whispered. "He’s so... close."

Mia was swaying slightly, her face turned upward. She looked like the weight of the world-the perfectionism, the striving-was being physically lifted off her shoulders.

And Jay.

Jay was standing like a statue. But his hands were trembling. Not with fear, but with intensity. He looked like he was plugged into a socket. His lips were moving, whispering something silent, over and over.

Leo closed his eyes again and let the current wash over him. This is it, he realised. This is the fuel.

It wasn't an emotion. Emotions faded. This felt substantial. It felt like liquid courage being poured into his veins. The fear of Mrs. Hatcher? Gone. The embarrassment of the street ministry? Gone. Replaced by a burning, overwhelming desire to go back out there. To find Stan. To find anyone.

"Thank You," Leo said, and his voice sounded different. Deeper. Resonant. "Thank You for the charge."

They stood there for what felt like hours, soaking in the energy. They were charging. The ions were flowing. The chemical reaction was happening.

When they finally moved, breaking the huddle, the blue safety lights seemed brighter.

Jay rubbed his face, looking dazed. "That was..."

"Real," Mia finished.

"Yeah," Jay said. "Real." He looked at his hands. "I feel like I could code the Matrix right now. Or run a marathon. Or... pray for someone."

"We’re not empty anymore," Leo said, clenching his fist. He felt strong. Not in a gym way, but in a way that mattered.

"So," Chloe wiped her face, her mascara ruined again but her eyes shining. "What do we do now?"

Leo walked to the doors of the Drama Hall and pushed them open. The corridor was dark, leading out into the night.

"Now?" Leo grinned. "Now we have to figure out how to keep the charge. Because tomorrow, we have a school to save."

He looked back at the empty stage. It was just a room. But they weren't just students anymore. They were Power Packs. And the Riot of Love was about to begin.