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Book 0:

Enter, the Reckless Imbecile!

Welcome to Untold Tales!

THE Prologue:

…or the Beginning of When it is Still Before the Story and Stuff is Introduced Because There Must be a Prologue.

~ Part 1: The Mild Hunt ~

“The hunter observes, silent as a shadow, still as stone, sharp as a hidden blade. Unseen yet all-seeing, he breathes in the peace he is about to shatter. One instant of reprieve before the bloodshed starts anew. A gentle delusion. He knows. The blood never really stops flowing. In this world, it’s kill or be killed. So today, he kills again. He takes no pleasure in such senseless violence. It is but a necessary evil he has grown well acquainted with. Even he cannot hope to escape this endless circle of death…”

“Do you really have to do this?” A question is asked.

“He has no choice! The blood calls to him. The craving of the flesh, for the flesh. A primal need that demands to be satiated. Hunger for the consumption of another being. He is unable to go against the will of Nature. Others tried. Others still try. He isn’t one of them. Long ago, he has accepted what he is. A killer. A carnivorous existence, devourer of the dead.”

“Why is it always like this?” A tired whisper echoes.

“Because it was meant to be! No use denying it. No use delaying it. Time is up. He clenches his teeth, steels his will and exhales slowly. Holding back is pointless. Regret would come later… However, tonight, he feasts.”

“Regrets? Sure. That’s why you do it every time.” The voice grows reproachful.

“No! I do! I mean, he does! Feel regret. This is not his fault! It is the hunger! The enticing taste of meat that overwhelms his senses and corrupts his body! OOOOOOH!! Painful curse of murderous gluttony!”

“Look, if you’re going to stand there and talk nonsense… I’m ordering pizzas. I can make yours vegetarian if you’re this torn about eating meat… for whatever reason… Since when are you vegetarian anyway?”

“…since five minutes ago. But that’s not the point!!!” I spin around and point a fist at the owner of the voice, who takes a hurried step back for some reason. “Daaaaaaaaaan!” I whine loudly. “I was on a roll there! Why do you do this to me?” I wave accusingly at him.

He makes some more weird contortions, tilting his head and bending backwards, and sends me a severe glare. “Because I’d like to eat today, not in twelve years,” he says seriously—though you never really know with Dan.

“Oh come on! Don’t be such a party pooper,” I complain with a wide annoyed gesture.

“I’m not–” He ducks abruptly. “Would you please stop waving that meat-cleaver around?!”

“Meat cleaver?” I throw my hands up. “What mea–”

*thwack*

Oh. That meat cleaver.

A complicated expression creases my face as I look up. In the white ceiling, a shiny kitchen implement is now stuck. How awkward... I'd honestly forgotten I was holding that thing.

“Hehehe… Oops. Do you think that’ll cost me my guarantee deposit?” I ask half-jokingly. I’m not owning this place. I’m just a puny renter.

I let my gaze fall back down.

Dan isn’t laughing.

Aw, come on.

“You’re really going to hurt yourself one day.” His voice is stern. Funny, though, how he doesn’t even consider he might be the one to get cleaved. But I guess, if I were a musclebound black god of fitness named Daniel Jakande, with the build of a Zulu warrior and years of training in Japanese martial arts, I too wouldn’t worry much about the likes of little lazy-bum knife-wielding me or their ability to seriously wound anyone beside themselves. 

Especially since I wasn’t actually trying to stab him.

You say that…

Shut up, Brain.

“Nah.” I shrug as I drag a chair under the Cleaver in the Ceiling—Whoso Pulleth Out This Blade of this Hereth Plaster is Rightwise King Born of the Kitchen!—“I’m still in one piece. See?” I twirl around to prove my point, my lab coat fluttering around me like a flimsy tutu. “I need to catch up on the latest episodes now that I think about it,” I add, muttering for myself.

As I step on the chair and test its balance, Dan shakes his head resignedly and leans against a wall. I must say, his ebony black skin, black t-shirt, black pants and black socks stand out quite a lot against the white paint on the wall. I have no idea why he insists on wearing only dark colours. For one, it’s gloomy, and for two, it makes him a nightmare to find at night—and a heart attack when you suddenly get ambushed by a floating smile.

I’m sure the original Cheshire cat was a black man. I feel sorry for Alice.

That’s racist.

I told you to shut up, Brain.

For some nebulous reason, however, girls at school swear his odd fashion choice gives Dan a “mysterious” aura. Even some of the boys think so. Yeah. Right. 

My private opinion? Those birdbrains will always find reasons to glorify each and every aspect of their precious “Dannyyyyyyyy~!!!”

Yuck.

I bet that guy could come to class wearing a pink overall with hearts motifs, and as long as it hugs his perfectly toned abs and pecs, and shows off his muscular biceps and forearms, his squealy fan-club wouldn’t give a flying duck.

“I worry about you, that’s all.” From behind me, I hear the voice of the bona fide lady-killer. I only half-listen, while wondering if it isn’t homophobic to say lady-killer? Or would it be more insensitive to the LGBT community to go out of my way to acknowledge their differences? And what would I call him then? A “people-killer”? That doesn’t sound right.

Being considerate is such a hassle.

I peek over my shoulder. “Aw~. That’s so sweet of you, Snuggles.” I blow him a kiss and wink. He grimaces, and I chuckle before refocussing on the knife. It’s in a little deeper than I expected. Definitely going to leave a mark. How vexatious.

“Besides,” I continue as I grip the handle. “You really don’t…” I pull and let out a groan. Yep. It’s deep. How did I throw it so hard? I’m a wimp. “You really shouldn’t worry, Dan. I dated your sister, remember? If I survived that… hah… nothing short of… a wrestling match with a… Damn it!… with a moving truck can hurt me. Bet I’d even get reincarnated. Aaaaand… Got ya!”

“Don’t let her hear you say tha—NICK!”

As the large cleaver finally broke free from the plaster, the sudden lack of resistance took me by surprise. Gravity and displaced centre of mass being what they are, I am now falling. Typical. For an instant, I actually worry this may end up badly for me, but the next moment strong arms break my fall. I am laid delicately on the tiled floor and a rich voice enters my ears. “Nick... Are you okay?”

“Dan?”

My friend is kneeling on one leg by my side and holding my back with one arm, while his other hand rests on my own phalanxes. I look up into my saviour’s dark eyes. Those black holes I often joke are so monochrome they make finding the pupil within the iris is like a game of “Where’s Waldo” with a blindfold. They don’t seem so laughable right now. In fact, never before now have I noticed how deep and soulful they really are.

I also become aware that his face is quite close. I can see the grain of his skin and feel the warmth of our intermingled breaths.

“Dan…” I whisper.

“Nick…?” he replies on the same tone.

“Dan…”

“Yes?”

“Dan…”

“What is it?”

“Dan… I really wish roses would magically bloom around us for no reason right now. That’d be so yaoi.”

“…what?”

I cough dramatically and wheeze. “Dan… tell my wife and childre—OW!! Did you just drop me?!” That bastard dropped me! I thought we were having a moment!

“You can’t stay serious five seconds, can you?” He stands up and glares down at my fallen self. I don’t mind, though. The floor is surprisingly comfortable.

“Wouldn’t know. Never tried,” I chuckle.

I can see he tries to hold onto his scornful expression, but it soon melts into yielding annoyance. He sighs, “You’re impossible, you know that?” He holds out a hand, which I take, and he practically pulls me up on his strength alone.

Show off.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

That he can effortlessly lift my near one hundred eighty pounds with one arm and make it look like he’s picking an apple makes me roll my eyes. I’m not jealous. I just find it mildly annoying. I mean, while having the body of a Greek god—a black Greek god—does sound appealing—not the black part—I’m far too lazy to—Wait. That came out wrong.

When I said “not the black part”, I meant… I’m not black so that won’t work. That's all I mean. I’m as boringly Caucasian as they get. Not even a slight tan or exotic sexy slanting eyes. Dumb brown hair. Greenish-greyish-bluish eyes. Unnoticeable cheekbones. The usual package. 

*sigh* 

Well, at least I’m proud of my height… So there’s that. Hurray~?

What I was trying to say is, while Dan’s body type is enviable, I’m also quite aware of how much he exercises to keep that physique. I just don’t have the will to keep up with that kind of daily training. It’s not as if I’m fat anyway. You don’t need to be Mister Young Athlete of the Year to be in shape. I’m... decently fit for a twenty-one years old male?

...

Okay. Maybe I’ve been drifting a tad on the pudgy side recently, but that’s not my fault. I promise! It’s all because of that game. In the past six months, I’ve—

“I swear, between you and Yas, sometimes I have the impression I’m babysitting two kids with ADD.”  Dan’s complaints break off my train of thoughts, like they often do.

Immediately switching gears, I grin widely at him, baring my whole rack of teeth. Hehehe. Who’s Cheshire now? “You must be glad that we broke up then. Imagine what we could have done if we not-focused our minds together.” My eyebrows wriggle “threateningly” to somehow underline my words.

“I wouldn’t say ‘glad’…” He frowns and his gaze shifts to the side. It's cute how he's unable to admit the undeniable truth of what I just pointed out. I bet he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. I snicker mentally. 

Aw~. Isn’t this just precious?

Sure is. Since when do you have feelings to be hurt?

Hey! I resent that. 

And shut up, you’re not even real.

I truly admire Dan. I believe he’s the closest a human can become to the epitome of manliness. I’m not ashamed to admit it. 

But honestly, sometimes, the guy is just a little too nice and honourable for his own good. Oh, he can turn angry and even aggressive if pushed, don't get me wrong. I mean… At the risk of sounding cliché: you can’t get as far as he is in martial arts without some tiger in you. But deep down, Good Man Daniel doesn’t have one mean bone in body.

His black Adonis’ body.

In fact, it’s comical that he talks of Yasmin and me as if he is the one taking care of us. 

Even though I’m two month older, presumptuous little sh—

I recall quite a few times we had to help him out because he was just not unscrupulous or ruthless enough to handle a situation on his own.

…

……

………

Nothing major, okay? We’re not mobsters or anything. Just a group of average-ish late-teens-to-early-twenties young adults with mild game addiction—especially me, the game addiction. I agree that maybe “ruthless” sounds a little ominous, but… I honestly have no idea how else to describe Dan’s younger sister, Yasmin. No, well— I do have a few other descriptions in mind... 

Dedicated, loyal, honest, intelligent, talented, unrestrained, slightly helpless with math, fit, strong, a terrible painter, wilful, outgoing, sinfully handsome, a goddess in bed… cough..

But “ruthless” still is the first thing that comes to mind. My body remembers it too well. Never has “sparring partner” sounded so much like “punching bag” in anyone’s mouth than in hers. I don’t know what that says about her as a girl, or a person for that matter. She’s just so violent. Since when does judo involve punches and kicks anyway? 

Crazy woman.

I do love her, though. Not in any romantic persuasion, mind you, but still.

I wonder what that says about me as a person.

Hint. It starts with M.

Will you just shut up?

Oh well…

Keeping the voice in my head and my amusement in check, I pat Dan’s shoulder. “No, really, you should be glad.” I lower my voice to a whisper and lean into his ear. “Imagine if… we had kids.” His eyes widen at that horrible image, and his black skin actually loses a couple of shades, shifting to a lighter brown. 

I burst into laughter, even though I sympathise. 

That prospect scares me too.

He coughs, awkward, then turns his head pointedly. I tacitly agree to let the matter drop and follow his gaze towards the kitchen counter, where a huge piece of meat—between four and four and a half pounds I’d say—still sits atop a chopping board.

Oh.

“Riiiight!” I exclaim. I almost forgot again! I really ought to get that short-term memory thing in check too. Don’t want Mom to start giving me pills again. “The dinner won’t cook itself!”

I take two steps in the direction of the awaiting slab of dead flesh—it really puts things into perspective to remind yourself a steak is actually a heated piece of corpse—only to be stopped by a hand on my elbow. I look back at Dan, who addresses me a raised eyebrow. “You don’t plan on cooking with that knife, do you?”

“Why not—Oh, right.” The meat cleaver still is full of ceiling dust, which I believe isn’t part of the recipe. At least... not unless I misread something important about the dish. “What would I do without you, Danny?"

He just stares back, deadpan.

"Oh well.” I shrug and drop the utensil in the sink. “It wasn’t really the right knife for what I have in mind anyway.”

“And what would that be?”

"Glad you asked!" I like talking, and I especially love talking about my hobbies. And it just so happens that cooking is a little side-hobby of mine, along with music, reading and sewing. Although, music is probably closer to a drug to me. What? Don’t judge me. A dude can sew if he wants to. Don’t be sexist.

“I’m making ‘beef cubes with carrots and mushrooms’. Though I would have preferred to give it a better name… but…” I pause and reach into a cupboard, grabbing a much less pretentious kitchen knife. “Well, it is beef cubes with carrots and mushrooms, so what would I call it besides ‘beef cubes with carrots and mushrooms’, right? I know it doesn’t sound very appetising but—”

“Nick. You’re rambling.” I glance at Dan, who is keeping his distances again. My gaze turns quizzical, but he quickly answers my unspoken interrogation. He points at my hand and says, “And you’re waving your knife around… again.”

Was I?

Silly me…

I lower the sharp thingy. “Sorry~.” Because I live alone and don’t go out much outside of school periods, I tend to forget when there are actual people close by. I also tend to drown in my own delusions… But I’ve always done that since I was a kid. I don’t think my present living arrangements have much to do with it. They likely don’t help though. Maybe I shou—

“If you’re really sorry, how about joining my guild to apologise?” Dan once again cuts through my introspection.

I roll my eyes. "Ha-Hah. Nice try." 

For the past seven months, Dan, Yas and I have been playing this new ludicrously popular Virtual Reality game: Untold Tales, a typical med-fan MMO. And, for the past five, Dan has tried recruiting me every time we meet both in and outside the game. An offer which I always refuse.

Not that it's a bad offer, really. Horizon—that’s the name of the guild—is currently one of the top ranking guilds in Untold Tales. They were warring for the fifth or fourth place last time I checked. In fact, Dan has probably more to lose in inviting me than I have in accepting, because of my… err… my “reputation” as a player.

…

……

………

It’s not a bad one! …I think.

But it’s true I did piss off quite a few influential people in my time… Maybe? 

Important and powerful people. 

I don’t want to impose that on Dan. Plus, I suck at teamwork. I just don’t get group tactics.

Besides… Yasmin and I in the same guild? Bad idea. Danny dearest, I love your sister to death—quite literally sometimes I’m afraid—but together we’d burn your precious Horizon to the ground in less than a week.

So I reply, “Same answer as always Daniel-san: nope.”

Dan just nods and says nothing. I think he’s actually given up by now. He just keeps asking in the event I, for some reason, change my mind.

To be perfectly honest though? I’ve actually been considering it lately. Playing by myself is what I love—what I’m best at—but I’ve been feeling a little lonely in the past couple weeks, maybe because of where inside the game my character is stuck right now. 

Moreover, spending so much time alone with my own thoughts can’t be healthy in the long run.

Really? What would make you think that?

I'm not sure...

In any case, I’m not saying a word to Dan just yet. First, I’d like to try and get myself one, maybe two party members. Joining something like a guild is a big step, especially for someone like me who’s not naturally sociable—a step which I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to take. A small company fits my style better anyway. I’d like a cute little pet too—and a girlfriend, but that’s beside the point.

Maybe combine these two?

“Anyway.” I shrug. “I was about to cube the beef, but now I wonder if I shouldn’t start with the carrots.” I tilt my head in pondering on the issue.

How dreadful, those choices the Universe forces upon us. 

Like, do you sleep with your arms above or under the cover? 

Maddening.

More practical than me—

Not much of an achievement.

Shut up.

—Daniel replies, “Whichever takes the longest to cook I guess? Do you even have vegetables in here?”

“Hey! I’m not that stu…” I begin to raise a finger to emphasise my indignation, but I stop midway and instead, I choose to take a step aside and open the fridge. I pause, my gaze travelling the cold white microcosm fast, then I close the door with a deadpan expression.

Okay. Maybe I am that stupid.

I turn slowly towards Dan, who is wearing an insufferable mildly smug expression. That quickly changes, however, when an equally faintly evil smile blooms on my face. Discomfort on his face, he takes a step backwards, but—HAH!!—his retreat is blocked by a wall!

He looks at me with a mixture of warning and dread. “Now, Nick, whatever you’re thinking—”

“You’re going to take responsibility, aren’t you?”

“R-R-Responsibility?”

“Yes.” I take a step forward, and he plasters himself on the wall. He may be able to wipe the floor with me, but I’m still two inches taller and I have a knife. It’s not a meat cleaver anymore, but it’s still sharp and pointy~. “I wouldn’t have known about the vegetables if it wasn’t for you pointing it out.”

“S-S-So what? You need them for the dish anyway. Nick, please stop. You’re scaring me when you get like that.”

“Ahhh… Dan, Dan, Dan. I was in such a blissful ignorance.” I shake my head with a faraway nostalgic look. “You shattered that,” I add in a whisper.

“Yes, well—”

“YOU KILLED MY INNOCENCE!!”

“I think maybe you’re overacting…”

“TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!!”

“I don’t—”

“RESPONSIBILITY!!”

“Maybe—”

“RESPNSBLTITY!!”

“Don’t you thin—”

“SPONSBILTY!!”

“…...”

“SAPUBADABADABIDITTY!!”

“Okay! Okay, like what?”

“GO DO THE GROCERIES!!”

“…..”

“…..”

“…sure. I can do that.”

“Good.” I step back and rip a list that was magneted—I’m sure that’s a word... somewhere—that was magneted on the fridge. “Down the street, second left.” I hold the piece of paper in his direction, but then I keep it out of his reach when he tries to take it.

I glance sideways at the floor and shift uncomfortably. “I-I-I’m only a-asking you because you’re here! Not be-be-because I trust you or anything! Don’t misunderstand! Ba-Ba-BAKA!!” I shove the note at him and retreat by the kitchen counter.

There is an instant of silence.

“…Nick. What was that?”

“What was what?” I ask innocently.

Of course, I know he’s asking about my incredible performance. 

I’d like to point out that I wasn’t actually impersonating a tsundere by the way. I’m holding a kitchen knife, remember? Slight nuance. 

Fufufufufu…

Dan just stares at me, looking as if he has given up on something. After a time, he sighs and looks down at the list. He raises a thin black eyebrow. “Is that your grocery for the whole week?” He shakes his head and frowns. “How come I always end up running errands whenever I come here?”

“Because you and your sister always drop by unannounced?” I tilt my head to the other side and turn my palms upwards in a helpless shrug.

His frown deepens. “That’s because if we told you, you’d find an excuse for us not to come.”

My own eyebrow twitches. “Hey! You make it sound like I don’t want you here,” I retort in a slightly heated tone.

“You know what? I don’t think you do,” he states sombrely. “I think you’d be perfectly happy left alone in your cave without anybody to talk to.”

Ouch. For an overly kind philanthropist, he really knows where to strike to hurt. That’s the downside of having friends who know you well: they know you too well.

My glare becomes vicious, and I snarl, “Damn right I don’t! Whaddya think?! You think I like spending MY WHOLE BLOODY EVENING COOKING FOR YOU, UH?! YOU THINK I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO?!” My voice has now turned into an angry shout, and I violently stab the knife into the meat where it stays planted. “BECAUSE IF I’M SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS, WHY DON’T YOU JUST GET OUT AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!?!”

“DAMN RIGHT I’M LEAVING!!” Daniel roars before storming out of the kitchen.

I glare at the empty doorway for another couple of seconds, then I shift my eyes to a leather case conspicuously laying on top of my kitchen table. I pick it up.

Three…

Two…

One…

“I FORGOT MY WALLET!” Daniel storms back in.

“HERE’S YOUR BLOODY WALLET!!” I throw the item at him.

“THANK YOU!!” he rages, catching his property.

“YOU’RE DARN WELCOME!!”

“DO YOU WANT ANYTHING ELSE THAT’S NOT ON THE LIST?!”

“YES! BUY SOME MORE COOKIES!!”

“OH YES! EVERYONE LOVES COOKIES!!”

“OF COURSE!! NEVER GOT ENOUGH COOKIES!!”

“COOKIES!!!”

“COOKIES!!”

““COOKIES!!!!””

What? 

We’re friends for a reason.

“ANYTHING ELSE?!”

“NO!! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!”

“YOU ARE FUCKING WELCOME!!”

And he’s gone again. 

I turn back towards the meat and pull out my knife with a sigh. 

Sometimes... Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to have a normal conversation with someone that’s more than an acquaintance.

Oh, you can’t help that. Most everyone’s mad amongst your friends.

Yeah. Got that right…

Soon, I hear the front door opening, then Dan’s voice echoes from the end of the hallway.

“Right! NICK! The bear’s out of shampoo!”

“ROGER THAT!” I reply. “I’ll take care of it!”

Then the door closes.

…

……

………

Wait. What did he just say?

 * * * * *