Thereby, The Life Of An Artista
4 AM, the same 2nd day of the 2nd month's 4th week. Proteros. The president's residence in the presidential precinct.
“As you can see, these are the first images of one of the intruders…” A cute, brown young woman reported before turning around. Images of a hooded person jumping from a window, barely making a mess out of it, and 'skipping' up the wall showed. Then, just as the hooded figure dived to a narrower window, the footage stopped. The news reporter looked at the camera again, “This individual is the responsible for bringing down more than a dozen guards, including 2 he left unconscious and were found later.”
“However, it has been found that one of the guards, the one reported dead, was not an actual guard, but a construction builder in Désincá. If the whereabouts of this man far from his state concern you, then the following footage will show you the carelessness of the authorities.” The young woman said before turning around once more.
More footage appeared. This time, it came from the fights of the same hooded figure, with those he seemed to fight in close calls blurred. When the first kill showed, a blurry shadow barely even showed, with the footage backtracking and zooming to show it again. Its death couldn’t be seen.
But when the second kill happened, the ‘guard’ who jumped slightly into the air wasn’t blurred well, and part of his head blowing up showed. Then, blue and gunfire flashes showed, everything with sound, before the feet of the first intruder showed moving and standing up after another blurred death fell to the floor.
“The museum was the first, #1 Archeological museum of Sargonde, where the fruit of nature was moved to after suspicious actions were detected in other museums of Sargonde. It has now been reported stolen, with a value of at least 35 million credits, considering its historical importance in this order’s human civilization. With possible rumors of it belonging to a history long before. If these aren’t pretenses, then its real price could be considered between the trillions!”
“However,” the young woman smiled, charming her audience. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was happening. She kept a little smirk before continuing, “An hour later, during the search for the intruder who killed in cold blood, the fruit of nature was found beside a podium in the same room.”
The news reporter continued with a large smile, “It has been placed in a secure room of the government, supposedly a bunker in case any political figure was threatened. As we speak, the construction builder from Désincá is being investigated. For the past 30 years, all he’s done is work there every few days a week…”
Luis blinked as he watched TV. He pressed his lips and gulped a few times, feeling a bit incredulous. Thinking of some things, a frown slowly formed between his eyebrows, when he received a call from his cellphone. He picked it up at once after reading who it came from.
Just then, the news reporter finished and said, “Now, an excellent group of experts has rushed to Sargonde’s Delicious Nights news anchor. I’ll let you hear what they have to say!”
A table appeared, with dim lights smoothly turning up and illuminating a bunch of old and strict-looking men and women. The first to speak was a white, slender old man with a blue tuxedo. “Oh, let me start, alright. Did you see that person just jump from the window?”
“Only military equipment would help a person do that!” The old man shook his head, showing his chin in depreciation. “Now, tell me. Who can give such equipment to random people?”
“In the streets?” Another person asked, complementing the previous words. The old man in a blue tuxedo nodded quickly a few times, “Of course! The army has been irresponsible for many years now! It was properly disciplined and out of our streets before, why are they out now? Who let them out? The streets are for civilians, and now, they are gifting their things to criminals!”
“Now, who controls the army? Who is the supreme commander for a decade now? He’s liked that position so much to leave it, that’s why he still dares to run for president again. That is the reason. So, who?. Luis Heartez, that ingrate, of course!” The old man looked at everyone else in the table. “Now, forget about his corrupted, filthy hands. Let me tell you about what he wants, to put terror in the lives of everyone! He wants the people to feel afraid before telling- no, asking his bosses to please stop tormenting ‘his’ streets…”
Luis’s complexion improved after he took the call. Before the call ended, he breathed at ease again. Putting his phone down, he watched the TV again and showed some anxiousness between his eyebrows before looking at the time. It was nearly 5 AM. He jumped his eyebrows before getting off bed.
***
Sargonde, Riverlye headquarters.
“Cough…! Cough, cough, cough!” Phesx coughed while waiting outside the Head’s study after returning. Instructors Cala and José looked at each other before staring at Phesx, whose sudden coughing fit attracted their attention. Phesx didn’t know if it was blood waste or phlegm that became stuck in his throat.
When he stopped, he returned the stare. His eyes blinked innocently, of course, as he waited for the Head to give him answers. Phesx knew he did well, maybe slightly overextended, but it ended well. However, the Instructors’ eyes seemed to express they weren’t sure he’d come back.
At last, the Head’s voice came from the study just as the gate began opening, retracting into the walls. “Fox, come in.”
Phesx nodded at the Instructors before walking inside. They looked at his back. The Head breathed deeply in and gave José a look while cocking his head before focusing on Phesx. The gate closed behind Phesx as he looked at the Head, who remained seated.
“Is there something, Head?” Phesx Caolia placed his hands behind his back. The Head nodded before gesturing Phesx to sit. Obeying, Phesx waited for the news, good or bad. He started wondering if he was tricked, but he made sure he opened his senses to not let anything escape him.
“The information was correct,” the Head showed him a small device the size of his pinky. “You brought your objective to full completion. Congratulations.”
The Head shook Phesx’s right hand, although he didn’t want to touch someone else’s hand. Then, the Head presented a blank ID bank card, to which Phesx showed his own. Then, the Head slightly voiced, “You also killed unknown assassins from 3 unknown lagj organizations. It was unnecessary, and it has caused… a possible chain reaction. For that, Riverlye is proud.”
Phesx blinked. He could swear he was going to be slapped on the wrists. He nodded a bit before seeing the sum he received. 35,000 credits made their way into his pockets, appearing in his national bank account like they were always there soon after.
“Think that’s a lot? Usually, the Artistas receive however much the client is willing to pay, with Riverlye getting a good portion of your payment. The more people are needed for a mission, the higher the payment and risk.” The Head said after seeing the glint in Phesx despite his calm eyes.
Phesx looked up, “How much is this compared to that, Head Gerardo?”
“Hmph,” Gerardo Tellez expressively harrumphed before saying, “Riverlye needed this information, so we’ve given you a bit more than the usual. That’s not all. If we sell that information, you’ll receive more.”
“…” Phesx felt his eyebrows uncontrollably rise. The Head smirked. This boy was hooked.
“Go off now. Tell your stories to someone who cares.” The Head shooed Phesx away, looking down at some documents, maybe from the information Phesx brought. Just as the young boy was leaving, Gerardo lifted his head and voiced, “There are no requisites to you taking on missions, but unless you want to be set aside, get to work.”
“…” Phesx Caolia stopped, turned his head halfway before walking forth. The gate opened. This time, it only took a couple of milliseconds after a second, which put a smirk onto his lips. ‘I am an Artista now, eh? No more training, schedules… Just myself… Good.’
The previous Phesx Caolia would’ve replied with a ‘yes, sir’ or ‘understood’, and probably irritated his superiors. Now, however, he behaved more as expected. More human, more… like an Artista should.
José and Cala looked at him before Cala went into the Head’s study. José stood beside him, as Phesx looked at the Instructor. José grinned before saying, “It really does fit you. I believe you’re not far from being mad.”
Phesx smirked, but José added, “That’s not a good thing. In the underground, or this secret world, there are still many limitations to dictate untold rules. That is, until the insurgence of another attempt of a hoog organization.”
“It’s good advice to go out,” José said with his eyes on Phesx and hands behind his back before walking away, indifferent. “Instructors aren’t taught how to become one, you know?”
“…” Phesx looked at José’s back and waited until the Instructors all left his sight.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Phesx Caolia walked to the usual spot, where Emer’s alleyway and the workshop were. He walked to the alleyway, where he saw Emer beckon him, but Phesx seemed to think of something. He smirked and went to the workshop, ignoring Emer, who seemed stern.
‘This little donkey.’ Emer was left baffled after being awfully ignored by his ‘apprentice’. On the other hand, Phesx walked into the workshop, where Pheli had a snack and looked at her screen, now entertained. She lifted her eyes to look at him, becoming surprised at his attire. He hadn’t changed yet, with brain matter on his left chest and blood on his shoulders’ wounds.
“What you doing?” Pheli said as a tiny smirk formed from the left corners of her lips. Phesx Caolia walked to her and rested his forearms on her counter. “I did it. Now, I wonder if you can tell me if there are more bions like that gauntlet, void only. Oh, and much bigger and durable.”
“Well, you had the worst model.” Pheli commented, cocking her head to the right before turning her screen towards Phesx. Phesx’s eyes shone as he saw an exoskeleton of an arm, with custom sizes orders. Pheli went on, “There’s this one, the peak a lagj org can get. It’s the same as the gauntlet you bought, but this one has a few modules for mintip shields. They can defend you even against sniper rifles. Their deviation fields are more potent, and remain small.”
“However, unless you have 1,065,000 credits, just keep buying more gauntlets.” Pheli smirked from the left corner of her mouth, teasingly. Phesx Caolia looked up at her, almost salivating with the arm’s image. Pheli turned her screen away and swagged with her visage, ignoring him.
“We’ll talk again,” Phesx narrowed his eyes a little, something he didn’t notice, and when he did, he couldn’t bring himself to open them. It felt strange.
“Oh yeah?” Pheli looked at him from the corner of her eyes, still facing down at her screen. Phesx didn’t shy away, shrugging as he re-confirmed. “Unless you don’t like pizza anymore.”
Phesx Caolia left, ignoring Waleks, who walked out of the bathroom doors with a towel around his waist, showing his abs and muscles with a pair of brown arms holding them from behind. Pheli lifted her left eyebrow. She kept it up until the daring, brand-new Artista exited her workshop.
Then, she looked at Waleks, who darted his eyes between her and the door. Pheli’s neutral face startled him a bit, and she expressed, “This is the second time. Do you need me to go for Teon?”
“…” Waleks’s eyes showed fear. He bowed his head. Pheli wasn’t angry, but she wasn’t exactly understanding of the weapons craftsman’s moves. Waleks fled to the bathroom, Pheli rolled her eyes, and once she was alone, she reopened the news anchors showing certain little images.
‘Not bad, mnn.’ Pheli thought. It wasn’t too much of a secret that the ‘assassin’ of Preut’s military camps’ generals was training with them, but most didn’t know who. Phesx was thought to be the one, until nothing else was known, and the new Neophytes joined Riverlye.
But looking at the uncensored versions, of which a mere blurring from news anchors was nothing for her computer’s capacity to erase, Pheli studied his moves.
… Phesx Caolia walked to Emer’s small study. He felt in a good mood, and even though he smelled someone’s organs’ matter still on him, and some blood, he ignored the pain from his shoulders and greeted the old fella.
“Hey, fart. I’ve done my part, I was paid, and I’m now an Artista. Thanks. I don’t think we’ll see each other that much anymore, but I’m glad we met.” Phesx stated, about to turn around, when he felt his hoodie grabbed by very long fingers.
“Not so fast, imp,” the old fart, no, Emer said. He pulled Phesx’s hoodie from his cloak and said as he tried to calm his rage. How dare someone talk to him like this smelly donkey just did?! Emer went on, “I did a promise to you. Very few have been spoken or accorded by me to others. Those who promise to me are never exempt from retribution if they can’t keep it. I think of myself under the same rul- …?”
Emer stopped once he turned the young boy around, only to see a blatant, insulting smirk spreading from corner to corner on the fella’s mouth. Emer’s face became stupefied. Phesx cocked his head down to the left, “Alright, I understand. I will value the Art instructor Emer has to offer me. Sigh.”
“…” Emer considered many things in his mind before sighing as well. He let go of Phesx’s hoodie and sat on the floor. Even then, he was almost as tall as Phesx, without straightening his back.
After a few moments of silence, with the atmosphere subsiding, and once the calm movement of dust and air were in both their senses, Emer spoke as Phesx sat cross-legged, with his right knee up.
“What I’ll pass on to you isn’t something to learn only in one place. You can practice it anywhere. Regardless, you ought to find good places to do so. Remember that.” Emer spoke slowly, with his always roughened voice, but he seemed excited now. Something that was never there before.
“What I taught you is rapid, constant, beastly, and bloodthirsty retaliation when surrounded by enemies. It can also serve as the foundation to learn this art. It is not one of moves, where you have to name something, much less of a sole, formidable strike. It is merely the creation of a weapon, letting go of anything else. It is a state… of the mind and body that remains until the heart is exhausted.”
“Exhausted?” Phesx Caolia’s interest piqued, he asked with a light frown. Emer responded without much movement, except from his mouth. “Not from tiredness, or mental instability. Only when too much blood has been poured out, and it cannot force more pumps into your veins.”
“Until the point of dying from exhaustion?” Phesx seemed to comprehend. Emer nodded before continuing staring at him without reaction. Such a thing is silly. Only in movies do warriors or security guards in apocalyptic scenarios die in those ways.
Yet, Emer uncaringly carried on, “You already possess enough stamina to tire one of your Instructors if they were to chase you. Not bions or weapons included. With my art, you would tire them to death before they kill you, even when armed, at least with the current you. Now, doesn’t that sound exciting? Heh heh.”
Phesx didn’t reply. This wasn’t what the old man just talked about. Sure enough, Emer reverted to his previous mentions. “This is an art only made for situations where you are completely alone. The body cannot keep going after too much pain is inflicted. Heart attacks, strokes, or just your organs going into shock, killing you.”
“Many different ways to die before exhaustion can even touch your death string.” Emer seemed to reminisce as he commented, looking at an upper corner of the study. He lowered his head to look at Phesx with a strict face, “You trust your superiors? Your peers? … The world?”
Phesx didn’t reply. He only stared at the old man imparting him with something. Whatever it was.
“Thought so.” Emer relaxed his back, straightening it. He looked a bit like a giant to Phesx then. Emer stared down at Phesx with his eyes, “Breathing only grows when put into the real difficulties of the world.”
“This… ‘method’ was the reason secret organizations sprouted everywhere. All the same, many theories and philosophical ideals have been made out of this. Adrenaline and one’s potential isn’t the breath, but any ordinary person can have it. They might just not notice.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Emer shook his head. “I once wanted to remain alone for the rest of my life. Thought I would. I couldn’t. I can’t do many things, and couldn’t do many others. But I can… at least pass this on.”
“From now on, your breath will be different. You may get addicted to pain, not the emotional, which you already are, but physical. You will understand once it happens just once. All this art needs to entice you is a bit of its mightiness, just a taste.”
Emer became somber and even dangerous out of nowhere. Unfortunately, Phesx’s eyes only grew excited. He didn’t know those words would incite something within him so much. Likewise, Emer didn’t know they would have this effect on the young boy.
Slowly, words were the source of Phesx’s new-found longing. As the small study closed its gates to the world outside, Phesx’s heart beat stronger with each new word from Emer’s instructions. With every stronger heartbeat, his breathing adapted, making his shoulders, chest, hips, and even arms and thighs and back move strangely. It seemed inhuman.
A different kind of breathing.
. . .
The next day. In Sargonde’s big southern city’s outskirts, 6 AM.
After a successful mission, Phesx was allowed to take a break. He was shot twice, too. He returned home after imprinting Emer’s teachings into his mind. Before, he just thought of it as another method, but after listening to Emer almost an entire day, more than 12 hours from early morning to late afternoon, Phesx felt strangely serious.
Emer was still an old fart. A strangely tall, wide eyebrowed, old fart. But Phesx had the even stranger sensation of his body learning how to… become more mobile? Ever since then, his breathing had become different, with Phesx meditating and simply relaxing sometimes.
Phesx could feel his blood, sometimes bubbling, others becoming heated or cold. It wasn’t just a series of biological occurrences mingling when they should not. Furthermore, he felt a little itchy when doing all of this. It persisted after he finished the ‘mantras’ Emer had him practice.
It wasn’t supposed to happen. Phesx was meant to feel his body feeling a bit heavy for a few hours after each long meditation session. But instead, he felt a bit sensitive of his skin, eyes, nose, and ears… and his nails and teeth.
Either way, it wasn’t something stupidly bizarre, like gaining strength, or shooting energy waves. The breath and the art Emer taught him were similar to choosing a lifestyle. Diet, fitness, sumo, lifting, racing. Any of these could change the body of the person who decided to live as either.
In Phesx’s case, the breath and art were dictating the capabilities his body could be pushed to. Everything was limited and unlimited. Unlimited in the spectrum of the line marking achievement and the bottom representing the distance to step onto it. Limited by the mind.
Breathing allowed one to be protected from the latter, from the harm the nature of one’s body could provoke in aftermath, This art, it made Phesx’s breathing… wild. Mad… could it be any better for the young boy who had only just begun?
Unfortunately, on this day, Phesx received news from the farm he worked at. Not from the old man, but from his daughter. The old man had perished.
… Arriving at the farm, where a government vehicle waited on the road, and a few people carried a few bags and the like, Phesx saw a chubby blondie whom he obtained a discount for in the pizzeria.
Vrruuumm… Phesx Caolia stopped his bike before the car the old man always took care of. The chubby, blonde young woman stored a few things in the vehicle before looking at him, having already noticed him.
“Hi, Phesx. Thanks for coming,” she looked a bit sweaty. A skinny young man with some muscles and a sleeveless white shirt walked to the car to put some boxes there. With the way the young man held them, Phesx frowned, more or less imagining what was in them.
“What are you doing? Leaving?” Phesx asked her. She looked at her father’s car, now hers, a black, decent but humble, ordinary vehicle, before telling Phesx. “Before, father could barely take care of the farm. Without him, I don’t have him telling me to do my part every week. How can I do it alone? Of course, my man will help me now.”
“What are these things?” Phesx Caolia blinked and smirked before asking her, gesturing to the boxes with a nudge of his chin in the air. The blondie put on a difficult expression. The young man walked to them and said after sighing, “Siigh~! These are the documents father-in-law signed 2 years ago. They were from some new guys in the city. Only, he recently discovered they tricked him into ‘signing’ to other things without realizing.”
“Like what?” Phesx frowned and asked the young man, but the blondie responded this time. “They ‘transplanted’ his signs onto other papers. Now, I’ve been sued for attempting to ‘take’ orphaned properties after I reported his death to the authorities. It was a heart attack… no wonder he became more annoying lately…”
‘So he wasn’t sick… at least not that sick, just troubled.’ Phesx Caolia blinked. Understanding, Phesx brushed it aside and nodded upwards, “What do you need me to do?”
“Can you help me message those father brought you to sell his product? I should sell all the adult livestock and crops. Oh, and there’s someone in that car who wants to question you about his condition, too. It might help in the case to defend my father’s lifework.”
“Okay. I had a family from the voluntary foster care that knew a few things and taught me some. Can I see some of those papers?”
“Ah? Yeah, sure.”
…