4/7/54

DEIMOS DUST

Well, he was excited.

Based on his past, it’s understandable. Still, though… I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that excited over three hundred dollars before. It’s a lot, yeah, but… Just… Wow.

The night before had mostly just been one big celebration, composed of multiple, smaller celebrations. Alexander was partying it up over his payment at first, then we moved onto celebrating his new job, and also celebrating his first completed job.

Right now, however, it was the next day, and I could feel a migraine from not getting enough sleep. Only, probably four to five hours. This is what you get for getting carried away and forgetting to adjust your alarm I guess.

Dragging myself over to the bathroom, I grabbed slightly more pain meds than I should’ve, brought them to the kitchen sink, filled up a glass of water, and slammed them down. The water alone was doing wonders, flushing cold, liquid relief through my system.

After about twelve minutes, the pounding headache dulled into an afterthought. I trudged over to the couch and collapsed into it, relief from the headache making the tension leave my body. We should not have stayed up that late. Ughhh, and I still got a full day of work ahead of me. AND I gotta make sure Alexander can handle his new job on his own. And–

Okay, okay, okay. Stop. Think. Compartmentalize. Plan. Let’s get on with the day.

ALEXANDER GALDUR

“Mmmm.” I groaned, slamming down on my alarm clock. The alarm died out with its final death throe “beep.” It was a persistent little thing, but nothing will stop me in my desire to sleep.

Despite that, the alarm managed to wake me enough that getting back to sleep was more trouble than what it was worth. Damn you alarm clock, you’ve won from the grave once again.

With a reluctant shuffle, I slid out from under my sheets, eyes still glued shut by my own exhaustion. One herculean effort later, my eyelids fluttered open. My room was somewhat messy: a couple cans and cups along with a bag or two of half-eaten chips. Crumbs were strewn across the floor and I realized that chore day would probably roll around sooner rather than later.

Eh, it was a later-sooner, not a sooner-sooner, so that was later-sooner Alexander’s problem rather than sooner-sooner Alexander's. Would apologize to the guy, but he never seems to be around. Odd.

I found Deimos outside with some left-over waffles that had lasted quite long in the freezer, steaming from being recently thrown into the toaster.

“Ah, you’re up. About time. Okay, since it’s so late, I’ll go to work. When I come back, we’re going to get on with your job.”

“Alright.” I nodded, seeing nothing wrong with the plan.

Deimos just nodded back, served up the waffles along with whatever fixings we had. He left soon after, leaving me with the dishes and cleanup. I took care of it, of course, because I refuse to be some average freeloader. Instead, I’ll seek to be an above average freeloader. Something somewhat more respectable.

After that, I sat down on the couch and started watching tv. After only half an hour, I was bouncing my leg in restlessness. I was feeling… nervous. My heart was in a clamp and every second that passed with me doing nothing made the pressure worse. I—for whatever reason—felt the need to do something. Anything!

I stood up slowly, still not sure what I wanted to do, but as I slowly edged towards the door, my body’s jitteriness made me realize something. I wanted to exercise. Only two days passed, and back when I was training, I got daily exercise. It was painful, agonizing, and… fulfilling. I hated it at first, but the constant movement began to grow on me. Now, my body hasn’t been getting its normal dosage of work, and something in the lizard part of my brain made it want to keep working.

I was thinking about all this as I got ready for the day and left the dorm room. When I was standing outside the dorm building, my legs began to move. Then they moved a little bit faster. And soon, I was jogging just like I did back in training. As my legs pushed off of the ground, propelling me through the air, something just felt right.

The air outside was different than in the gymnasium—fresh and crisp, it cycled through and around my body. As I was running, I suddenly saw a flash of long, blonde hair with yellow streaks as a rather short person was running on the same general route as I was. The blonde-haired girl from training.

Something in me stirred. It wasn’t my dark magic; God knows I’ve unfortunately become well-acquainted with the feeling. This was a feeling of pride and elevated testosterone. I sped up, closing the gap between this, and as I passed her, I looked over my shoulder and glared. I saw the cogs turning in her brain, and soon enough, she shared my glare. Our eyes locked, sparks flying between us, and she started going faster. So did I.

We kept gradually accelerating, speed and heat picking up between the two of us as we ran side by side. After I don’t even know how long, I was eventually forced to concede, gasping as I leaned against the wall. By the time I recovered, she managed to make a full lap and we were back, neck in neck.

After running a few laps, we moved onto other exercises. Whether it was push-ups, curl-ups, squats, or even makeshift pull-ups, we were constantly competing to see who could do the most. There were frequent water breaks, mostly from my side, and there were even more frequent glares and scowls exchanged.

Morning changed to afternoon, and by the time either of us knew what happened, the sun was shining from the other side of the sky. Wordlessly, we locked eyes one last time and left, her having smoked me in literally every competition. I sweated out my anger and inadequacy as I picked the lock of the room, closed and locked the door behind me, and collapsed on the couch in an increasingly soaked outfit.

I gasped for air and felt my muscles burn until, eventually, I managed to recover enough to stand up and drink some water straight from the tap. With how much I drank, I wasn’t sure where it was all going, until I realized I was still sweating enough to make myself into a slab of human jerky.

I wobbled back to the couch and collapsed, thanking whatever divinity that might exist for the existence of soft things. Promptly, I fell asleep.

----------------------------------------

“Alexander.” A voice said, the sounds muffled and unclear while I started waking up. Something shook me gently and the voice called out again, “Alexander.”

My eyes reluctantly opened and the noises around me became more clear. The blurriness of sleep kept my vision unclear and I struggled to blink away the blurriness along with that weird, yellowish crust. Once my vision had returned to mostly normal, I focused on Deimos’s face, a single eyebrow raised in his usual questioning look.

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

“Why are you asleep on the couch… And why do you look like a drowned kitten?”

I scrunched my face at his comment before looking down and seeing my still-soaked shirt. In addition, while on the couch, I seemed to have curled somewhat into a donut-like shape. Almost like a… cat. Huh, that analogy was pretty spot on now that I think about it.

“I felt like I needed some exercise. I saw that blonde-haired girl from before and we started racing. And doing push-ups. And sit-ups. And some planks now that I think about it.”

He looked at me incredulously and started to speak, “You know–” only to be cut off by some very rude cretin.

“And some wall-sits and squats too! Full body workout with all the fixings basically.”

He looked at me, all the emotion in his face drowned out. He waited all of about two seconds before continuing what he was trying to say, “You know, I’m acquainted with Elizabeth Grant, and she’s always been a bit pompous with the general demeanor of a proper prick, but I’ve never seen her quite so fixated on a single person before. Why you two seem to have a natural determination towards pissing one another off, I have not the slightest idea, but I think you should be aware of her standing, political power, and social influence when making an enemy of her and that family.”

“Wait, ‘that family?’ What does that mean?” I asked, brows furrowing even more in confusion.

“You really don’t… Actually, what am I saying? It really shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering your background. Well, you know the general politics of Tulare, right?”

“Mhm, I think. We have the federal government, state government, local government, and the rich aristocrats that have enough money to influence any part of the system besides the federal government.” Then I finished with a small mumble, “Fucking rich folk.”

He simply nodded, whether he didn’t hear what I said or simply didn’t care, I didn’t know, “Right. Then, you should probably know that the person you seemed determined to make a nemesis of is Elizabeth Grant. She’s the seventh and youngest child of the Grant family, one of the richest and most influential groups in the entirety of California.”

“... Fuck.”

“Yes, ‘fuck’ is right.” He nodded along, sagely.

“You know what? No, I regret nothing. She deserves it. Also, based on what you said, we live in completely different worlds. Our relationship won’t affect our lives. I don’t care how petty she is; it’d simply be too much of an effort to mess with me.”

“Mm, true. Still, it’s something to keep in mind.” He conceded, “Now, go have a shower. Your armor is still somewhat fresh. I’d like to keep it like that for as long as possible. Washing armor is always annoying.”

Groaning, I mumbled, “Alright.” I stumbled through the pain and into the scalding water of the shower. A pleasant temperature for those with a layer of dried sweat so thick that the soles of their feet stuck to the floor. After coming out as a lobster, red from being boiled, I sat down in fresh clothes next to the spot I fell asleep that was decidedly less fresh.

Still damp.

“Catch.”

“The hell?” I squawked as I ducked beneath the throne object.

Deimos facepalmed, “Catch. Not duck. Catch.”

“Not my fault I don’t like things thrown at me.” I grumbled, walking over to the throne object and picking it up.

It was a key, bronze with no blemishes. It was on a ring, but it was the only key on the entire thing. Deimos suddenly spoke up, “It’s a key.”

“Wow. Really? I for one thought it was some kind of communication device; huh, shows what I know.”

“Smartass. It’s a key to the apartment. If you’re going to be going out for training, it’s good for you to have some way in and out.” He stated.

I looked down at the key, letting the silence grow, before responding, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

We messed around for a little before mustering up the energy to head on over to work. After arriving at the bounty hunters’ office, we made the rounds, but as we approached the atm-like machines, someone burst into the building with a kick.

A man walked in, face scarred with the proof of battle showing his history. He had a receding hairline with slicked-down, black hair that ended in a man bun. He had an extremely pointy beard, clearly well oiled and maintained. With a stern expression and a glare in his silvery eyes, one of them being paler than the other with a blackened scar running down his face.

He wore familiar plate armor that clanged as he sauntered in, a group of similar people following behind him. Deimos forcibly turned me around and stepped between myself and the group.

“Hey! What’s going on? Who are they?” I whisper shouted, trying to look past his tall-ass self.

Before he could respond, as I glanced around Deimos, instead of trying to peep over, I saw what the man who had barged in was holding.

A burlap sack that was suspiciously similar to the shape of a small person. He slammed down the body onto the counter and took it out. It was a child.

I drank in all their details. The kid looked about nine, but she could’ve been a little older since she was so malnourished. The dark purple hair, the cool black skin marred with cuts and blood. Her eyes were open wide in hollow terror, terror that had long since passed. Those pitch black eyes were so familiar. They were so like mine that I could see myself in every ounce of terror they exuded.

A droplet of blood carved its way from her eye and down her cheek like some macabre facsimile of a tear. I knew just by looking at them that they were an… “evil” magician.

She was just a child. Just a fucking child. What the fuck did she do to deserve this? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?

My breathing picked up. My heart rate accelerated. Everything lost color. A tear wound its way down my cheek, mirror opposite of the dead fucking child I was looking at. I felt rage in me. I felt despair fill my soul. I wanted to do the same to what they did to that poor kid.

A hand on my shoulder forced me into a tight hug. I dug my fingers into the sides of whoever pulled me away from the horrific scene, clawing desperately to get away from them and kill those bastards!

As whoever it was endured my scrabble, just keeping me buried in their chest, I slowly calmed down. The red-hot rage cooled, becoming an icy fear before melting into a dripping, watery depression. I calmed down until I was sobbing and shivering in the tight hold. The warmth they offered was comforting in the hellish cold I felt.

I risked another glance and saw that among those monsters was Sarah. Sarah Knight. The Knights. Evil magician hunters. That was also when the man who put the corpse onto the counter saw me. His face scrunched as he appraised me before leading his followers—his family—out of the building. When his cold, dead eyes met mine, fear welled up from within me. I was being watched by a predator, and the prey inside of me felt the vulnerability consume everything.