3/19/54

ALEXANDER GALDUR

With the final day in the hospital here, and the final healing done, I slid off the bed onto my repaired leg. With unsteady support, I wobbled back and forth, only a small ache suggested the existence of my previously gaping wounds. A small scar was left in the place of the holes, a slightly circular shape with scar tissue reaching out here and there. I tested my body and walked around a bit, stretching my arm and bending it, just to find it was perfectly fine. I was probably in a better condition than previously as I was also quite well-fed while in the hospital.

“How is it?” Dr. Whitaker questioned me, bored and disinterested.

“Great,” I turned and replied, “Thank you all so much for the help!” I looked at the three people there. There was Dr. Whitaker, sunken eyes, slight stubble, stained clothing. Yep, he looked like shit! Then there was Anna: tanned skin, orange-red hair, green eyes. Yep, she looks great! Finally, there was Deimos in his usual outfit who had come to check on me on my last day in the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah quiet down,” He said, a smile beginning to form on his face despite the body language that suggested he had a headache, “You can repay us when you pay back your $8,100,005 debt.”

He began to cackle as I felt my soul drain away. I don’t trust easily, but I doubt anyone could trust an entity as evil, wicked, corrupt, and sadistic as Dr. Whitaker. By the looks of it, the other two, Anna and Deimos, seemed to agree as a look of revulsion developed on their faces. His laughing died down, his smile fading back into the look of a man who gets no sleep whatsoever, “Now, we did say we’d be getting you trained up, so Deimos will lead you to the necessary facilities.”

I looked at him, disgust in my eyes, and said with a hint of spite in the “sir” at the end, “Yes, sir.”

Dr. Whitaker clearly noticed the tone I used and laughed it off, “Alright, Deimos, if you would.”

“Yes, sir.” Deimos said with slight spite but noticeably less than I used, “Lucas, let’s move.” Deimos gestured towards the door while walking off. I followed suit, going down halls, rooms, and intersections. The twisting, almost maze-like structure of the DME was so complicated, I didn’t know how anyone could have memorized their daily routes.

We were walking down the hall when I saw a sign hanging from the ceiling, saying “Training Rooms” with an arrow pointing up next to it. Further ahead, there was a set of double doors with a warm light glowing behind it. Before we even reached the sign though, Deimos walked down a path to the right. I slowed down a little before realizing that he was probably heading to a locker room of sorts. Choosing to ignore the final destination, I followed him down the path to see him at the entrance to a bathroom. He needs to use the bathroom. Normal. Him gesturing with his hand for me to follow him into the bathroom. Less normal. Considerably less normal now that he’s nervously looking around and getting more and more frantic in his gestures.

I hesitantly took a step closer, close enough to where I could hear his whispers, but not close enough for us to come into physical contact. He, as silently as he could, urged, “We need to talk in private!”

Right, he did want to talk in private a few days ago.

I nodded and made the rest of the way to him. We walked into the empty bathroom as Deimos turned to face me, “This bathroom is rarely used because it’s out of the way, so we should be fine talking here. Though, for safety’s sake, let’s head into one of the stalls.” He pointed to the second stall closest to the back wall of five. We headed inside, and he locked it with the turn of a small knob. He turned to face me and whispered, “So, I think you already know why I want to talk.”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.” I responded, playing dumb.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. If you keep acting dumb, I could always report you to my superiors.”

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A small bead of sweat rolled down my temple, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“Easy,” He said, “Why’d you help me?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, slightly confused by the question.

“Why did you, a dark magician, help me, a member of the DME, fight against a member of the ARO, the people actively fighting for your rights.”

I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss for words. Why did I help? The same thought came to me the first time I met him, but I didn’t have much time to think about it as we had to fight the ARO member. If I helped the ARO member, I probably would have landed a job and made some allies, yet here I am, being interrogated by the DME member I saved, in a bathroom stall. I. Am. An. Idiot.

I opened my mouth, now sure of what I was going to say, “I don’t know.”

Deimos flinched back in surprise, “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know.” I parroted, truthfully. My guess as to why I did that was because I disliked the ARO. They were the reason my parents had died, so I can only assume that was why I saved him. Though, now that I think about it, I saved some random kid from my orphanage, revealing my powers to the orphanage director. Maybe I just didn’t want to watch someone die when I could have prevented it? Maybe a mix of both? I do have a slight moral compass. Of course, he didn’t need to know any of this; what is he, the reader of some crappy novel?

“I’m not quite sure I can say that’s a trustworthy answer.” Deimos responded, skeptical of my statement.

I sighed, “There isn’t much more I can say. Look, believe it or not, it’s the truth.”

Deimos continued staring at me in skepticism before releasing a sigh much like my own, “Fine, all I can do is watch you for now. Let’s head over to the locke-”

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps came from outside the stall, and Deimos’s mouth shut in surprise. The sound continued past us, heading further to the right of the stall and further to the urinals. The sound stopped and was followed by the sound of a zipper opening and a small trickling noise. We kept quiet, and Deimos’s hand reached for the lock. With the turn of a knob and the slide of a small metal latch, the door silently opened up. We snuck out as silently as we could, doing our best to not draw attention to the two people just hanging out and whispering in a bathroom stall.

We emerged outside the tiled room and released the breaths we were holding in. Deimos started walking to the hallway opposite of the one we stood in now, “Let’s go, the locker rooms are over here.” Deimos walked to the hallway and I followed like a baby duck. We made a turn to the left and walked through a door leading to a series of lockers, showers, and sets of equipment.

Deimos went over to the equipment and threw some clothing at me, “Here’s your equipment, get changed quick, and we’ll head over to the training room.”

I caught the bundle. The clothing and equipment came as a t-shirt, shorts, a nice pair of shoes, and body armor for different parts. I stripped and changed into the clothes, noticing the shirt was slightly too large. I decided it’d be too much of a hassle to ask for a new shirt, so Deimos and I left for the training room.

We reached the doors and swung them open, revealing a smooth and shining metal floor, metallic walls painted with targets, and an extremely high up ceiling. The ceiling was probably fifty or so feet taller than Deimos, who was quite tall. Different areas in the huge court are composed of different terrain. On one side, there was a huge pool, and on another, there was a realistic hill and mountain. There were jets of flame coming from some areas, and artificial thunder storms in others. It was a huge mishmash of every possible terrain and encounter one could find themselves in.

The people there were also quite diverse. There were children to the elderly from all sorts of backgrounds and ethnicities training their bodies, minds, skills, and magic. Some dueled, some trained with weapons, some did basic exercises, and some were experimenting with spells. My mouth was left agape at the huge expanse’s diversity in all sorts of ways. Deimos laughed to himself at my reaction, “Let’s go, we have to find the person who’ll train you. I’ll stick with you throughout your training to keep an eye on you.”

On cue, a woman with black hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, and a toned body, with features suggesting that she was from asian descent in her early forties looked and waved at us with a grin across her face. At the same time, someone charged at her, a flaming sword in hand, and swung with all their force. She glanced over her shoulder and stomped into the ground. A pillar of stone promptly shot from the ground, launching the man into the air and into a forested area possibly three quarters of a mile away.

What had I gotten myself into?