Chapter 7: Chapter 6

Fuck. Fuck! 

That went bad. That went horribly. Everything was going tits up already and I had the audacity to botch a job? My mind raced as I stumbled back to the nearby pawn shop. Earnest would help me out, right?

As I got to the shop Ernest looked at me in horror. 

“Are those burns? What the hells happened to you?” 

I felt my mind going hazy as the pain started to overwhelm me. “Please help,” I whimpered out as Ernest literally lifted me up and carried me to the back. 

He slapped me down on a chair and started some first aid. Thankfully Ernest was a medic beforehand, I had left my stuff here because I trusted him. I didn’t think his expertise would come into play, but I was certainly thankful that he had it. 

I don’t know how long I was there, just that I started crying and wouldn’t stop for a long time. The pain was unbearable. 

Ernest ended up telling me to breathe something in, and the next thing I knew I was unconscious.

I woke up groggy and my chest throbbing. I looked down to see I was shirtless with bandages and gauze completely wrapping my chest. I was laid down in bed. I briefly tried to get up before the pain from moving convinced me otherwise. 

A while later, Ernest came in with food. He looked surprised to see me awake.

“How ya feelin' Trey? I patched things up as best as I could and called in a favor with a friend to get you the best treatment I could. You’re gonna have a gnarly scar, but otherwise should heal up nicely.

“A favor?” I asked, feeling bad for worrying the man so much. Ernest was a kind soul and I felt like I took advantage of that by having him watch my stuff and then running here when I was hurt.

“Yeah, an old pal with a healing inscription. He came by while you were out and did his best to help you out. Couldn’t do much though, he was low on mana and you were hurt pretty badly, burns all the way down the left side of your torso.” Was it that bad? I only remembered seeing my chest burnt.

“How’d you knock me out anyways?” 

“You said some stuff about drugs while you were rambling. I dug through that bag you came with. Some of that stuff I recognized as a relatively safe sedative and used to knock you out. You were thrashing in pain and it was difficult to treat you.”

I felt a flash of embarrassment wash over me. Ernest really went through the work to help me out.

“How much do I owe you? I really appreciate everything that you did for me.” He just shook his head. “Nothing. You’re a nice kid Trey, stupid sometimes, but your heart’s in the right place. It’s on me.” 

I tried arguing with him. I didn’t like owing people, especially for something as big as free medical treatment and healing; that would cost an arm and a leg to get normally. Giving it out for free was the same as burning money. The old man wouldn’t budge though, he was insistent that I pay him back by, “resting properly,” and, “being more careful in the future.”

So that’s what I ended up doing. For the rest of the day, I rested at Ernest’s house after making sure Liz knew I wouldn’t be at school or at her house for today. Then I told her I did in fact know it was my last absence Ernest had a TV in this room, so I watched that for a while and played with my phone while I healed. Ernest brought me more food occasionally, and asked if I liked any snacks when he went out. I selfishly asked for a cola.

That night, the two of us talked for a couple of hours about life, goals, and how I ended up getting burned. I gave him an abridged version of the events. I told him it was a botched job, that I was caught off guard by a pyro. 

Ernest just shook his head. 

“Somethin’ the matter Trey? I know you didn’t use to take jobs you thought were risky. You’re either getting desperate or gettin' cocky and I don’t know which is worse.”

“You hear about my house?” I asked him and he calmly nodded. “Well, most of my materials for my project to get into Northridge were in there. They got blown away and I needed to make up for it. So I called in some favors and that’s how I ended up like this,” I said as I motioned toward the bandaged part of my body.

Ernest looked at me in pity, “You know there are other academies right? You don’t have to push yourself so hard to get into Northridge.”

“I… I need to. I want something better, I’m not satisfied with how things are. Northridge is a premier academy. There I could get my work seriously looked at and improve my skills exponentially. It’s everything I could want.”  Northridge wasn’t just a school to me, it was hope.

The older man sighed. “Trey remember, the dead don’t dream,” he said.

Ernest left the room soon after and I finally sent Martha a text that I had finished the job and to schedule a drop-off. Not long after, I went to sleep.

___________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, I immediately checked my phone to see if we were meeting at the safe cafe this afternoon. I dragged myself out of bed and to school.

I ran into Ella on the way who immediately noticed something was wrong. 

“You okay? You look like shit.”

I brushed it off as a shitty night’s sleep and my injuries from a few days ago still bothering me. Luckily, my uniform covered where I was injured. 

The school day blurred past and I wasn’t able to properly focus due to the pain. I honestly didn't put much effort into focusing. 

I spent lunch with Ella again who seemed suspicious about my sudden poor condition. She obviously didn’t buy my shitty excuse but didn’t want to pry either.

“Hey, are you doing anything after school?” she asked me while we ate outside a convenience store. 

“Yeah actually, what’s up?” 

“Ah, just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out and watch a movie today.”

“Maybe another time? Had some stuff come up today that I gotta deal with.”

We agreed to meet up some other time, then headed back to school and finished out the day. Right after school, I headed to my meetup with Martha. 

I arrived to see Martha already seated drinking a coffee. I sat down across from her and pulled the gem out of my pocket where I stored it. 

“I heard the job went bad,” she mentioned between sips of coffee. I sighed and gingerly leaned back in my chair.

“Yeah, I didn't plan for the guy being up or a pyro, shit hit the fan fast and I had to improvise.”

She sat there silently drinking coffee, not responding to me. About a minute passed before she said another word.

“Did you know that a person died? The police are looking into it. You might want to toss your gun by the way; forensics knows what model was used. Lucky for you, the only apparent witness they had was strung out and can’t give an accurate description of the culprit. Trey, I think this is the sloppiest work you’ve ever done.” 

…What? She was blaming me for this? If she had properly prepped me, given more information, and told me there was a person with a fucking pyro inscription, I would have been more prepared. I had to go in blind for the first time in years and yet she’s ridiculing me for fucking up?

“You’re fucking with me right?” I said, seething, “You gave me nothing! No info! I had to walk into a fucking drug den blind as a bat and you’re giving me shit for fucking up the job? If you decided to give me anything, literally anything, this would be a non-issue!” I struggled to keep my voice down as I vented my frustration. 

“I almost died there you know. I have burns running down my body! Be thankful you got the gem at all with how everything went,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

 Martha just looked at me, her face saying ‘are you done?’ She finished her coffee before saying another word to me.

“I wasn’t giving criticism, simply pointing out you tend to do better work. From everything I gathered, you did as best as you could. My point isn’t related to how well the job went; it's about why.”

“What's the difference?” I asked, wondering where she was going with this.

“You said you wanted an inscription for your entrance to Northridge right? You’ll be fighting people who are far more competent than that. If things go like that there, you’ll probably die, putting all this work to waste.”

As her words hit me, I felt the gears in my mind begin to turn. As realization dawned on me, I felt rage bubble up.

“That was a fucking test!” I shouted at her, alarming several of the other patrons. Martha glared at me, having not wanted attention drawn to us.

I lowered my voice, “You’re trying to scare me off of the ceremony. You don’t want me to go through with it. You fucking knew about his inscription!” 

Martha sighed, “You’re right. I’m trying to scare you off because I think your idea is horrible. I also think that you think so too. Be realistic Trey, that guy was some nobody. You are planning on taking on some of the best our city has to offer. Sure— they’re not Red Dawn students— but if a random dealer can almost kill you, those kids will rip you apart.”

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I wanted to yell at her, but she had a point. I wasn’t a great fighter. I wasn’t terrible, but I was no prodigy. I also wouldn’t have years to get used to my inscription like some of the kids from better backgrounds. I didn’t like that though. How was it fair? I worked my ass off trying to get together a project that would get me in. I had all the materials ready just for them to disappear in a puff of smoke. All of my effort to waste in a single day! I wouldn’t just give up like that and resign myself to anything less than what I earned.

“I’m going through with it,” I stated, reigning my temper. She had a point, sure, but I had everything to lose and nothing to gain by running. If I lay down when things hit the fan, I would’ve died before I even had a chance to get this far.

Martha gave me a weird look; a mix of pity and indiscernible emotion. She was obviously reluctant to let this go, but I wasn’t going to hear it; I needed this. 

“Fine,” she finally spat out, “We’ll go through with it. When do you think that you will be in an okay state? “ 

I tried to recall what Ernest said about my healing, “A healer patched me up, but I’ll still need another week or so to heal most of the rest up.” She raised her eyebrow.

“A healer? You have better resources than I thought.” 

“No,” I rebutted, “I just had a bit of luck in this clusterfuck. It isn’t something I can count on in the future.” 

“Shame. Either way, I’ll get a caster and the ritual together by the end of the week. Be ready,” she said as she excused herself and left.

I sat there exhausted. Zero faith, all of them. They expected me to roll over and fail. I refuse to accept that reality. 

Gods. Why did everyone just expect me to give up? Ernest, Martha, it was exhausting. I don’t even want to consider what people like Liz and Ella would say; none of them get it.

I took a breath. Things would get better. I needed to keep pushing. 

__________________________________________________________________________

I got back to Liz’s place and started working on the floor. I needed to mock up a new design. I previously planned on creating a mana-based firearm that could change its manifestation type on the fly, but that wouldn’t work now. I lacked the metal as well as the tools for it

I sat there and tried to create several more small scale designs, but none of them were what I was looking for. There was a fundamental lack of creativity in my designs. Armor, tools, all of them blatantly derivative, unoriginal copies.

I despised all of them.

I gave up by the time Liz checked in on me, opting instead to read up on inscriptions after my conversation with Martha earlier.

“Hey, wanna head out? I’m bored,” she said, plopping onto the bed next to me as she glanced over my shoulder.

“Sure,” I replied, shoving my phone in my pocket, tired of fruitlessly racking my brain. We headed out for our walk.

“Hey Liz, I wanted to know if you could help me with training,” I said. 

She stopped, looking over at me in surprise.

“I thought you weren’t interested in improving anymore. Ever since dad’s martial arts studio closed down, you haven’t bothered to do any training.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that will work anymore. I’ve had a few incidents recently and I think I’m going to need to get back into the swing of things.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Liz said as she stood there and gave me a once over with a contemplative look on her face.

“Aight, I’m down. We can shop for some gear, or are you going for hand combat?” 

I hadn’t even thought about that. Would I prefer a weapon? I had gun training, I should probably learn to use a knife or something. My mind flashed back to the other day. Gun knocked on the floor. I needed the comfort of being able to use my body, something that I won’t lose, that I can’t drop or have knocked out of my hand. Weapons would be good, but I couldn’t always rely on them, especially since I don’t know what inscription I would be getting.

“Hand to hand sounds good for now,” I replied, a bud of excitement forming in me.

“Cool. First lesson's now,” she said, “We’re heading to the junkyard.”

We altered our course to the junkyard that functioned as a second home for both of us.

Liz grabbed some ratty looking gloves and tossed a pair at me before throwing some on herself. I had a creeping feeling of dread.

“We’re gonna spar a bit so I can get a feel for how well you fight,” she said smiling, “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“Uh you know I was recently injured right?” I asked as I held out my hands. Though I continued to put my gloves on.

She smiled, “I'll be gentle,” she said stepping in. I immediately stepped back, gaining distance. She jabbed and I parried, pushing her hand off course from my face. She followed with a left straight and I tightened my guard. She unleashed a fierce, quick combination, but surprisingly all of the blows were light.

I took the blows and rushed her, trying to clinch. I grabbed Liz and then immediately ate a knee to the stomach.

 That wasn't light. 

I coughed and sputtered then fell to my hands and knees trying to catch my breath. I wiped the saliva off of my lip as Liz lowered her guard.

"You know you still have the habit of trying to grapple when someone is a better striker. You won't always be able to ground people, especially if they have an inscription, stop trying to use it as a crunch."

I nodded panting. Fuck that hurt.

 As I dragged myself onto my feet Liz raised her guard. I jabbed at her gauging distance. I had a slightly longer reach than Liz and tried to keep throwing straights to make the most of my advantage. She slipped my right straight, cutting an angle to my right side which was now wide open. I ate two punches to my side before I lowered my guard. I stepped back and tried to make space but she was glued to me. She suffocated me and her closeness killed any power I could generate as every punch was stuffed. I threw a knee which she blocked and then just shoved her off of me.

She smiled and stood more upright as she began shifting her weight back and forth, stepping forward in a high march. Her weight shifted back and I ate a kick to the stomach and crumpled. I almost fell to my knees but Liz rushed to support me.

"Fucking hells," I said coughing, my burns aching from the exertion.

"You're way worse than I remember," she said bluntly, making sure I was steady on my feet. 

"No, I'm pretty sure you just got a lot better since we last trained. Also, I thought you were going light? My stomach hurts like a bitch." Liz chuckled at me as she took off her gloves. 

“Dude, I don’t want to get taken down onto the ground here. It's dirty and honestly, you never know what needles or other is just under the base layer of filth.”

“I mean fair,” I said. She was right, I could spot some sharp metals laying not too far away. “but you could have just said something instead.” 

She gave me a noncommittal shrug, “You need to fix the habit anyway.”

“So first things first, you’re telegraphing way too hard. You’re either trying to tackle or punch, and it's obvious too.” She raised her guard except her knees were bent more than usual like she was ready to pounce. Then she raised herself a bit and tightened her guard more.

“Next thing, you’re gonna have to learn some kicks, knees, and elbows.”

“I already know how to throw those,” I challenged. 

She raised an eyebrow, “Then why don’t you use them?”

I was about to continue arguing, but I never used them in a fight, did I?

“I’ll try to find some regular pads so you can practice on them with some power but for now I want you to practice the motion. Watch.” She threw an aggressive knee, arms pulling down and her grounded leg bouncing her body up. I watched and mimicked; she corrected me a few times and then told me to practice the motion while she watched. Occasionally, she pointed out flaws in the motion then she had me practice using my other knee, then alternating, and finally mixing it with punches.

I was exhausted and aching. It didn’t help that I wasn't fully healed yet, but the satisfaction of exercise made me smile. I missed this surprisingly. Something about it made me feel a bit more whole and smothered out some of the hollow dread that’s been creeping up on me over the past few days. I’d need to keep it up.

Liz and I went back to the house and I felt a calm that felt almost foreign at this point. We took turns taking showers and then played games for a while before I did more fruitless research and finally went to sleep.

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