It was the first day in a long time that I had all to myself. Since my first mission was two days from now, I was excused from bootcamp. I enjoyed this blessing the only way an old man would, by doing exactly the same routine I had for the past twelve years. Coffee, morning jog with Pringles, breakfast and watching the news. No kneading, no reports, no shooting. The only thing to remind me that my life had changed was my new home and Sweeney. Well, it could be worse.
The rest of the afternoon I spent relaxing, thinking about everything I went through. Connor, Julia, Tilman, so many people held my destiny in their hands. My dream stood so far, but I knew better. This is the part that I will cherish some day, so I went shopping, bought sweets for my japanese gangster, and treats for my lovely buddy. Before I knew the day was over and all I had left was unfinished work ahead of me. Sleep brought me to the place I spent most of my time in.
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There was nothing to see besides the scorching sun and the desert. This new place brought bad memories that I wanted to forget. Walking towards me was humanity’s most voluminous mustache. David Milch had a bolero hat on his head and a bandoleer across his chest, reminding me of some infamous mexican gunslingers.
I waved from a distance, but Milch didn’t respond. Five feet away from me he spat, the gob stopping six centimeters from my shoes. I tried once again.
“Hello.”
“What the fuck was that?”
There was no reason for me to try to be clever, so I responded honestly.“Yeah, I’ve been asking the same question lately.”
He opened his arms, his long grey hair blowing in the desert wind. “Is there any point to any of this? Why are you even trying? God, what a fuck up! You couldn’t even draw your goddamn pistol.” He covered his eyes with his hand, shaking his head.
“Believe me, I went through everything I’ve done wrong that day a thousand times over, but there isn’t anything I can do besides practice.” Before he could respond, I tried to move things along. “Is there anything you want to focus on?” I could feel my chest burning with hatred. The reason I was unable to draw was due to inexperience as Oberyn showed me. I didn’t blame Milch for this, but the man wasn’t helping either.
“Why you even want to go on, son? I have nothing to teach from the likes of you. I just think we’re done here. Better luck next time.” He shook his head, crossing his arms.
Breathing deeply, I realized that I was the one that would lose if I lost my temper here. He might have to face Frank, but I needed the lessons. I was missing something, so I decided to calm down.
He was a tough guy, that’s for sure. What did he want from me? Maybe, just maybe, he wanted me to project strength? Some people were like that, craving for you to take action. Perhaps losing my temper was the right thing to do after all.
Thinking about it, I knew people like him. Troubled homes. Bad father figures. I helped raise dozens of them. All he knew was conflict, all he wanted to avoid was showing weakness. Couldn’t stand it, couldn’t be near it. Intent and aggression was the only way to show that you really cared, that you meant business. Especially from a position of weakness. I didn’t know enough about him to be one hundred percent sure, but this instinct I honed for far too long not to trust it.
Straightening my back I took off my jacket and drew my pistol. He squinted, his brown eyes attentive while his posture looked relaxed.
“You really want to know why? I spent my whole life being peaceful, doing the right thing. I would be on time, I would be the last to leave and for what? Still a nobody. I had love from my wife, I had a normal life and a dog. The whole nine yards. You know what I didn’t have? Respect.” I threw my jacket on the floor.
“Not an ounce, not a shred of it. I was treated like shit from people who could barely read. My whole entire life. So I want my fucking respect and if i have to fill a graveyard to get it, so BE IT!”
The veins on my neck were pumping, spit flying as I screamed.
Here came the part that I wasn’t so sure of, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
“So you can either jump in or you can’t take your pistol, your cigaretes and this fucking wig you got on your lips and get the fuck off, because the last thing I need is a cocksuker like you running away at the first sign of trouble!”
The last time I cursed that much was probably twenty years ago. After I became a teacher I just got used to not doing it. I was always paying attention to not say something inappropriate, but it did feel good to let loose for once. Panting, I waited for him to respond.
Here I was, gun in my hand, standing in front of him. He looked me up and down for nine point seventy five seconds. Chewing something, his eyes squinting.
“Aye, kid. I believe you.” He took his hat off and used it to clean the dust off his bandito pants. “Let’s go to work.”
My shoulders relaxed, letting go of the rest of tension that was still there. As soon as I turned my back, he shot me in the head. The warm liquid drenching my shirt. I turned back to look at him.
“Really?”
“You hurt me, kid. Right here.” He pointed at his heart. “And here.” He squeezed his privates.
“You’re petty, you know that? Really petty.”
His smug grin was the only answer I got.
The rest of the day was split between learning how to shoot and concentrating on my focus points. Milch’s distinct frown came back with a vengeance now that he saw just how bad my aim still was. The man was correcting everything about the way I shot. My posture, my breathing, the way I pulled the trigger. When we switched towards my horologium and the cigarettes, everything went considerably smoother.
It worked just like when I left the restaurant. The moment I touched the horologium, I could feel the improvement my lessons with Oberyn brought me. There was no feeling of dizziness or being lost like the first time. Seeing in three hundred and sixty degrees came naturally. Every time I saw something odd, I would tell Milch and continue to walk. He was pushing me further and further. The only part that I still had trouble with was seeing behind solid objects, but even that didn’t seem too far from my current abilities.
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“Alright, junior. At least, you’re not completely useless.”
My eyes almost teared up upon receiving such high praise, but there were more important things to ponder right now.
“Milch, can I practice my shooting with somebody from Earth?”
With a cigarette on his lip, he puffed a cloud of smoke. His eyes showed indecision. My guess was that he was still uncertain about the whole thing. If I let him ponder, I believe he would jump at the chance of not teaching something I held no aptitude for. So I let him mull it over.
“I don’t see why not. But listen to me, Billy,” he spat my new name, his disdain palpable. The cigarette hung on the side of his mouth even when he was talking. It was impressive in its own way. “Everything I teach you about your essence, it stays between us, you hear? The horologium, the cigarette case and especially this.”
As he said that a boulder rose from the ground itself. It was twenty meters wide and ten meters tall. He drew his pistol, a completely dark piece with golden engravings and he pulled the trigger. The boulder got shot, but besides that it looked healthy as ever.
“This is what you expect when you don’t add nothing to it,” Milch said.
He aimed again and pulled the trigger. The gun sound was the same, but the impact from the bullet was completely different. There were deep veins carved around the bullet wound where the second one entered.
Milch waved his hand, and the boulder was surgically cut right in the middle. As he pulled his hand back, the two sides of the boulder turned inwards showing the path that the bullets took. The first one wasn’t even able to penetrate, just chipping the rock slightly. Colored lines painted the nooks and crevices from the boulder, I assumed that the effect was there to facilitate my understanding and it showed. The second projectile carved deep into the rock. I think I knew what he was hinting at.
“You coat the bullets with your essence.”
He nodded, a feral smile on his face.
“It is what you and me will work on. I bet that soon enough, you will be packing quite a punch, son.” I squinted my eyes at him. David Milch complimenting me? Yeah right. “As soon as we can get our hands on a boulder big enough for you to hit.” There you go, that’s the Milch I know.
“Thanks for the encouragement, Captain.”
He scoffed, another cigarette being lit as the butt of the last one met the scolding heat of the desert. Seemed like this Company made cigarettes were as addictive as the regular ones.
The last thing we did was to buy the new ammo I would be practicing with. Molly made the purchase, some of the contacts I made were already bearing fruit.
“The cartridge box contains fifty bullets with a cost of one golden year per bullet, however agent Olivier Stone certified your customer membership with all his subsidiaries, new prices might apply.
Updating new prices for available purchases.
[Cartridge box - c18 standard] [50 bullets] [50 gold] is now...
[Cartridge box - c18 standard] [70 bullets] [24 gold]
Would you like to make your first purchase (Y/N)?”
“Yes I would. Thank you, Molly.”
“You’re welcome. Transference requested… transference completed. The ammunition is available for use.
Would you like to transfer it to your horologium? (Y/N)”
Confirming the request, I accessed my storage to see what the bullets looked like and I wasn’t disappointed. They were hollow, looking like an artist welded his way into the casing and carved a scene out of the metal. It didn’t make any sense, but it was beautiful. I looked at Milch, and I could see his feet taping in the sand, his patience running thin.
Opening the cylinder, I am surprised to see that the old bullets were already replaced with new ones. Awkwardly, I put them back into storage.
“You don’t know shit from shit, do you?”
“Can’t say I do. Any material you can lend me that could speed this up?”
“Material?”
“Books, guides, anything really.”
David scoffed. He put both his hands in his pocket, before moving it behind his back as he thoroughly investigated his ass crack. “Not right now, but you give me your address and I will make sure to deliver it to your doorstep,” he answered with a shit-eating grin.
Things turned out better than expected, Ern. In the end, he came back around. We are even getting along in a strange way. No reason to be petty. I shouldn’t be petty. Don’t lower yourself by responding to his provocations.
“You will? Thank you so much, Milch. I live at-”
“I won’t send you shit, you dumb motherfucker!” He stomped his feet and threw his hat on the dust. “This ain’t no game!”
Unable to contain my amusement, I caught myself laughing out loud, hand in my belly as I faced Milch’s furious gaze. When I recovered I saw him with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.
“You keep jesting, I’ll beat your ass,” he mumbled.
Deciding that I already pushed my luck too far, I aimed my pistol in the direction of the boulder.
“Just let it flow from your gut to the tip of your finger,” Milch advised. “When you feel that, you try to surround the chamber and the bullet with the stuff. That’s it. Can’t make it simpler than that really.”
Every fiber of my being was focused on the simple task he demanded of me. The first part was easy, but as straightforward as coating the chamber and the bullet might appear, it was incredibly tricky. I knew that there should be a smoothness to the way that I manipulated my essence, but right now it just felt like I pushed a blob of essence into the cylinder. I couldn’t make heads or tails if any of this was right. Calming myself further, I closed my eyes, letting the sensa-
“This ain’t no time to close your eyes, son! Look at where you’re pointing, goddamn it!”
And that’s why you don’t push people’s buttons if you don’t have too. Seeing that he wouldn’t let me take my sweet time, I pulled the trigger. The projectile didn’t pierce the boulder, not even chipped it or scratched it. My shot produced a slap sound. It looked more like I protected the piece of stone rather than increasing the damage from the pellett.
Milch snorted while he turned his back at me. Hand on his knees, holding his hat as he tried to maintain his composure, laughing uncontrollably. The man had his talents, but acting wasn’t one of them. I wouldn’t be caught dead trying to sneak up on somebody who was teaching me to see in three hundred and sixty degrees. Got shot in the head enough for one day. He turned around, his fake laughter dying abruptly. Without saying another word, we continued to practice.
A few minutes later David crumbled, leaving me by myself for the rest of the day. Eager to try the new exercises I learned from Oberyn I kept doing every single one of them, trying to improve one thing or two. My small colleague said that you can never master even the most simple ones. When he showed me how smooth he could make his essence jump from one finger to another, I understood what he meant by it. His essence was alive, it moved with cadence and with purpose. So I rehearsed it from the top until my time ran out. I still had too much to read, but I decided to do the exercises instead since they were far more relaxing.
All in all, it was a good day. Hopefully there will be a lot more of them yet to come.