“I keep that thang on me, ya heard?”
“Hell naw. Stay strapped or get clapped, nigga.”
“If it were me? I’d have upped it faster than them.”
The fatigue of dueling Ock, though fading, still dragged my steps. I listened to each response with disinterest. Finally, I was alone again walking the blue line. In the course of the morning to afternoon, I had angered a pyromancer and then had a man destroy my ankles.
What a place to be.
I walked with my head down, focused on the blue line. I heard footsteps approaching and shuffled to the side. However, my shoulder met the shoulder of someone else.
“Pardon,” I said, my head still down.
“Nigga who the fuck is you?”
I turned to see three men posturing at me. One with a hat, another with a large chain, and the other with a mask that covered everything but his eyes. The one with the hat spoke again.
“Bumping into me and shit–who you roll with? This Three-Six turf, nigga. You better not be FVR or I swear I’ll blow yo shit smooth–”
“Rod, calm your ass down.”
The one with the chain stepped between me and the other with the hat.
“His crashout-ass needs to chill. You’re Gas Station, right?”
“Gas station?”
“Yeah,” the one in the mask said, “Got shot a couple days ago?”
A frown appeared on my face. Would I be destined to be known for that forever? I nodded reluctantly. The chain wearing man nodded with me and turned to the one in the hat.
“Put the fuckin gun away, Rod. This Maurice’s cousin.”
“Ah shit. My fault gang. I’m just tryna be ready.”
“I’m sorry, you know Maurice too?” I asked.
“Everyone knows Maurice,” the one in the mask said, “That nigga had rank, for real.”
“Hop off his meat bro,” said the one in the hat, “Wasn’t all that for real.”
The one in the chain smacked his teeth.
“Just hatin’, Rod. Just a hater.”
He turned to address me.
“Tell Maurice Three-Six says what’s up.”
[ORGANIZATION DISCOVERED: THREE-SIX]
The three men walked off without another word. I stood alone for a minute and tried to process what had happened.
A chime from my pocket quickly took away that thought.
I pulled out my phone to see Maurice calling me.
“Maurice, I–”
“I saw Ock crossed your ass up real bad.”
I sighed. Currently, I did not know which was worse. To be identified for being shot, or my humiliation at the hands of Ock.
“Yeah, I–”
“You can’t hoop for shit! I may have to drop by to get Ock back for you.”
“Maurice, I have found possible allies in our quest.”
“No.”
“Dayleon may–what?”
“No, and double fuck no. Where the hell did you meet Dayleon? That nigga is bad news from head to toe.”
“He was at the park. I heard his story, and if we play our hand correctly, we could–”
“Yeah, we all know the story. Quan’s dumb ass fucks a bitch on live and people aired his shit out. Dayleon wants revenge, and we’re staying far away from that crashout. That’s it.”
“What about Ock?”
“Ock? He’s a hooper. Why would you drag him into this?”
“He could be a valuable ally–”
“Ock doesn’t do all this gang shit. Stays far away from it. Stop tryna prove you’re tough out here.”
“Apparently, you already did?”
“Huh?”
“A couple of men claiming to belong to Three-Six just told me–”
“Three-Six? Where the hell did you hear that?”
“They actually just walked past. Said you had deeds of legend.”
An audible sigh was heard.
“I said don’t get in trouble. It’s been less than a day and you met Ock, a crashout, and Three-Six.”
“I went for a walk?”
“Whoever shot you knows you’re out. If they get paranoid, they’ll think you’re coming after them.”
“But we are after them?”
“Jamal. Listen very carefully. I’m doing this as a favor to you. We find out who did this, you know who to avoid in the future. That’s it. Lay low.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Maurice’s voice ceased. I made the rest of the trek home without anyone approaching me. I needed no one else reminding me of how they knew me from previous exploits. Dueling against Ock had worked up an appetite. I found myself in the kitchen wondering what there was to prepare a meal. I remember my mother had opened a large metal box and pulled out food earlier. I opened the large box.
A wave of cold blessed my skin.
Pocket cryomancy.
A luxury I never thought I would ever experience. I fell to my knees in front of the cold box and let the air wash over me in bliss. A full chicken glowed in the light of the box, beckoning me to take it. I grabbed the bird and took it to the table. I tore into it without hesitation.
This feeling felt familiar.
I looked up to see my surroundings had changed.
There were more around me, partaking in food and drink. To my right sat a woman, and to my left sat a man. A tavern song rang out in the background, with everyone joining to sing.
Nine hydra heads swirling in the sky!
A hero comes forth commanding that they die!
One head off and it never grows back!
Eight more heads now to keep track!
“[ ]! How are you enjoying the food here, hmm?”
I turned to see Darius. He took a swig from his mug and let out a sigh of satisfaction. I was too stunned to speak. Had this entire thing been a dream?
“Ah, so good words escape you!” the woman said, “I knew you would like this place. Our victory demands enjoyment!”
Victory?
“What about Retrius? We need to find him, and–?”
Darius waved a hand.
“Retrius has surrendered. No need. We won. Enjoy!”
I balled my fists.
“You cur.”
Darius set his mug down. The woman next to me shook her head.
“Come again?”
“You craven bastards. What was the point of this quest?”
The music in the bar stopped playing. I stood up and continued shouting.
“What was the point of hunting the other dragons down if not to get to him! We killed every Arch Dragon with the goal to hunt him down, and now that he flees? You let him go?!”
“Our quest is done. Rid the land of dragons. The land has been rid.”
“You come to me and now you abandon the quest? Your weakness disgusts me, Darius–!”
His strike was so quick I only felt the impact of the table.
I woke up, back in the kitchen, with my face on the plate. Darius, the woman, and the tavern hall had all disappeared.
Arch Dragon Retrius.
I must not forget that he was behind this. That the only reason I was…human…was my party being too weak willed to finish the job. Maurice held the same opinion as Darius once did.
If he was not going to help me, then this time I would be strong enough to handle it myself.
The next couple of days flew by. After a while, I stopped counting the drops of sweat hitting the court.My progress was swift, but hard fought. Every step I took facing Ock and the others on that court reminded me of training days I thought were long since past. Another day had passed without Maurice calling to tell me where our next quest would be. I was so wrapped up in training, I paid no attention to the system pane until I woke up one morning.
[27 > 35 FLOW]
[8 > 15 SLY]
[8 > 20 ATHLETICS]
[NEW PERKS ARE AVAILABLE]
I still hadn’t used my first barrelmancer perk. I decided to see where the brigand and pugilist perks were coming from. On my phone I saw my stats, their names, and dark boxes underneath [INGENUITY] and [PRESENCE]. Those stats were too low for me to have them available, standing at a strong five. For the boxes I did have:
[FLOW]
[35]
[BARRELMANCER PERKS ARE AVAILABLE]
[EQUIPPED: 1 OF 2]
[SLY]
[15]
[BRIGAND PERKS ARE AVAILABLE]
[EQUIPPED: 0 OF 1]
[ATHLETICS]
[20]
[PUGILIST PERKS ARE AVAILABLE]
[EQUIPPED: 0 OF 1]
My progress paid off. I dove into my phone to reap the fruits of my efforts.
- [NEW PERK: BARRELMANCER - BRING THE HEAT (1>2)]
[10>15% INCREASED ACCURACY FOR 10 SECOND AFTER DRAWING A WEAPON]
- [NEW PERK:BARRELMANCER - HOLD IT (1)]
[20% CHANCE TO FREEZE ENEMIES AFTER DRAW]
- [NEW PERK: BARRELMANCER - I KEEP IT ON ME (1)]
[15% FASTER DRAW TIME]
A smile crept across my face. I selected [BRING THE HEAT (2)] and [I KEEP IT ON ME (1)] before realizing I still had not found a gun. That would be rectified later. I moved on to [BRIGAND].
- [NEW PERK: BRIGAND - I SEE YOU (1)]
[ABLE TO SCAN THOSE WITH EQUAL OR LESS SLY LEVEL]
- [NEW PERK: BRIGAND - JUST A FEELING (1)]
[30% CHANCE TO BE ALERTED WHEN A TARGET AIMS OUTSIDE YOUR LINE OF SIGHT]
I wonder how many of these Ock had? It seemed almost supernatural the way he moved across the court the last couple of days. Almost like he had eyes in the back of his head.
Or a perk.
I took [JUST A FEELING (1)] and moved on to the last category, [PUGILIST].
- [NEW PERK: PUGILIST - RUN MY FADE (1)]
[SUCCESSIVE UNARMED HITS GRANT STACKING DAMAGE BUFF]
- [NEW PERK: PUGILIST - ALL DAY, BABY (1)]
[15% STAMINA REDUCTION WHEN RUNNING OR SPRINTING IN COMBAT]
This was interesting. I don’t plan to run, but extra energy to move out of the way?
In my mind, I saw my previous death at the maw of Retrius. That flash of light that could have been avoided if I had been a little less tired.
Or had better party members.
Besides, chasing Ock around the court ran me to the ground. If this perk activated at the court, I would not complain.
I decided to take [ALL DAY, BABY (1)] and call it there. I would need to increase my [PRESENCE] and [INGENUITY] in the future to find out what else I was capable of.
Somewhere in this city, there was a man who tried to kill me.
Dying once?
Accidental.
Dying twice?
Dishonorable.
I reminded myself of the consequences should I fail to find and enact my vengeance on this man.
[REPUTATION DOWN]
Being known as “Gas Station” or “Nigga who Ock crossed up” had gotten tiresome. Even though I was recognized, I did not feel respected.
The person with the power to change that called me the next day.
“Jamal, DD has a hit for us. Another small car job. If you fuck it up, he says he’s done helping you.”
“I understand. Is the payment the same as last time?”
“Yeah, as long as you don’t piss off more Russian dudes. I’ll come by tonight. You are the lookout. Got it?”
“Got it. And Maurice?”
“What’s up?”
“Where can I find a gun?”
“...”
“Maurice?”
“You won’t need it. Just be the lookout.”
He closed the channel. I rolled my eyes and sighed. He was just like Darius, the way he decided for everyone what was necessary. Maurice had been more helpful than Darius ever was, but his limits were growing tiresome. He would help me find the name of my attacker, but not act upon them? This middle of the road mentality needed to cease.
Until then, I kept myself busy, marvelling at the wonders of indoor cryomancy. Today, I would take food from the cold box and move it to the pyromancy box.
I believe mother called it a microwave.