Ivory: Sorry I've not updated in forever, I was trying to write the chapter, and every time I did, it came out all wrong...Well, I reckon this won't be much longer, 'cause well... Yeah.
Xeniar: ...Was that it? No thanks to reviewers or anything?
Silasyr: I think she might've mentioned thanking them after the chapter.
Ivory: No, no I didn't... But I'll do that. Well, anyway, I don't own anything (besides Xen and Sil) because if I did, Erol wouldn't've "died."
Chapter Three:
Welcome Back
I can't say I liked Haven City, but I didn't hate it either, I guess I just felt content with all the noise and crowds¼ But come on, disrupting an escaped convict? Not something to do, bucko. Well, I'll admit, I'm not especially dangerous, hell, I doubt I could fight my way out of a paper bag¼ But, I could always threaten them -- have the shit beat out of me later, but still, it's better than nothing, right?
Going against my better judgment -- which isn't saying much -- I stepped outside, all in all, there wasn't much going on. Oh...Wait, scratch that. Whatever had been going on, well, it was taken care of now... By which I mean two of my fellow escapees lying in a pool of their own blood, a shocked expression on their faces. I took a brief look at the civilians that stood around the bodies, most wore a bored expression, some parents held their crying childrens' shoulders in a death grip, most just shrugged and walked away.
"Right, well, that's taken care of... Any idea where the others are?" I asked, walking up to my old friend casually.
Silasyr whirled around and immediately had the gun at my chest.
"Geez. Relax, Sil, you know that I couldn't do anything to you guys if I wanted to." When I had finished he lowered the weapon and sighed.
With an elaborate gesture at the city and people around him, he finally replied. The whole time he was speaking, I was staring at my boots, shifting my weight from foot to foot. In truth, even if I had been paying attention, I doubt I'd be able to derive where he was coming from, anyway... And I thought I'd just go along and try to play off of whatever he said.
"Well... Sure, I suppose." I was hoping that it wasn't something I was going to later kill myself for. Whatever he had said, my reply made him happy as hell, apparently.
"Great, I'll sign you in tomorrow." Wait a second... Sign me in? For what? Therapy? Gods know I need that. I had a feeling that whatever it was I wasn't going to enjoy it much.
(::insert clever scene seperator here::)
Silasyr had told me I could stay at his place until I could afford my own, which was nice of him, but what'd you expect? I was his only friend throughout school, mind. Yet he still wouldn't "remind" me of what I had said "sure" to, and it was thoroughly pissing me off. Geez, I have no idea how long I annoyed him before he finally gave in.
It was in the living room, I was happily eating my cornflakes -- which, I didn't buy, so I can't call them mine -- when he walked into the apartment and laughed. This caused me to choke on my wonderful cereal, glare at him, and attempt to save myself from a horrible death by drinking half the milk in the bowl... Needless to say, this made my cornflakes that much less appetizing.
"What's got you so worked up?" I asked, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of the dark-red shirt Sil had lent me.
"You start tomorrow."
"Erm... Start what, exactly?"
"Your new Guard Duty... Well, not tomorrow tomorrow, but you'll be in armor by the weekend."
I could've sworn my eye had twitched, and if it didn't, it should've. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He then stared at me with a bemused look on his face, gods only know how I wanted to rip out his eyes and make him eat them right then and there. "Well, it's what you said yes to."
"No. No I didn't. I wasn't even paying attention to you, let alone cared about what you were saying."
"Well, sucks for you. Maybe now you'll pay attention... Oh, and your hair, don't cut it... Let it grow out longer, you know, help keep your "old identity" a secret."
I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't a criminal, you know, it's not like I actually did anything. Why the hell would they care if I was in prison at some point?"
He just shrugged and walked into his room, leaving me to think. Seriously, would it have killed him to remind me of what I had agreed to? No, it wouldn't've. Damn him. But really, it was my own fault... I guess I should pay closer attention to what people say... But I wasn't about to admit that.
(::insert clever scene seperator here::)
Well, as it was, I had to go through with it. There was no more excuses on my part. Yup, that's me, noble Xen... Well, not really, but it would've been! I swear! If I didn't have a phobia of needles I seriously wouldn't've cared. But alas! I did. So when the tattoo freak-guy practically threw me down in that chair, I could've sworn I was about to piss my pants.
I don't know how long I sat in that chair, but I remember hearing that annoying and threatening buzz of the needle-thing he was using. Well, for the most part, it hurt like hell, but I can't stand pain... So I may have been exaggerating to make Silasyr feel bad -- needless to say, it didn't work. Well, I now had my face marred by gray-blue markings on my ears, above my eyes, across the bridge of my nose... Typical Guard markings. My face was sore after that... And I dreaded the day I went in for training.
Yet everything comes and goes, I guess... And my training was not one of those "comes and goes" experiences, it seemed to drag on forever -- yay for my whining. Well, anyway, I was in a group with a bunch of kids, come on, kids! I'm not that inept with weaponry! Whatever, I couldn't fire gun properly, and when I did manage, I missed the target by a mile; so they gave me wrist blades to use. They're sort of like gauntlets except they go around your wrist -- I am not about to bracelets, there isn't anyway in hell -- and when your pulse rate gets going fast enough the blades extract from the metal wrist brand -- yep, I'm avoiding the word -- they act as weapons. Pretty cool, no? Okay, maybe not. But that's what I had to use.
They told me that since my attack rate with the gun was incredibly low, that they'd see how I used the wrist blades, needless to say, I'm better at hand-to-hand combat, I just can't aim. So, they partnered me with a Guard who looked like she wanted somebody to off her right then and there... Yes, they partnered me with a chick... But, man, could she kick ass! She had me down within a matter of minutes, not that I was much of a challenge. So, I got to spar with her for some time, and I gradually got better. Not by much, but better.
Training ended after that day and they told me that I would become more adept with my weapons over time and after a few battles -- yeah, right. So, I went back to Sil's apartment, to find him passed out on my couch. Yes, my couch. It was my bed, sort of... I didn't buy it, but you get the idea. Being the jerk I was, I pushed him off it and pulled him to small kitchen floor, where I hit his head purposefully on a chair leg. I left him there, and I went to crash on my couch. Well, maybe now he'll leave my couch alone.
(::insert clever scene seperator here::)
A few days later I was out on the "field," so to speak. I still wasn't sure of my hair being so damn long, I mean c'mon, I looked like a fuckin' pansy. What did we do on the "field" anyway? I don't know, it's they had expected me to interrogate my father about his job and just what they did.
Okay, let's get a few things straight before I start to complain about how patrolling a damned city full of people who yell and run in terror from somebody on a fucking jet-board, let me recap on the most important parts of the last few weeks.
One: I went to go get my face tattooed. Of which I still cringe when I think about it.
Two: I got to go train with six-year-olds.
Three: Because I was inept with a gun and would probably end up killing half my "allies" in chance of a fight, they gave me wrist blades - I still can't use them right.
Four: There isn't a four, why? Because I'm that dull and boring.
Right, whatever, I'm ending this transmission now. Later details to come, maybe...depends on my mood...how lethargic I feel...if I'm still alive...or haven't yet shot myself...whatever.
Xen/Sil: You're really bad at endings.
Ivory: Shut up. ::mumbling:: Ungrateful bastards.
Xen: Thank the damn reviewers.
Winged-Raccoon-The-Dragon: Thanks for reminding me, I wasn't sure. I never am. - -;; Sorry I update slow, really slow, really really slow.
Krin: So much undeserved praise.
Crimson-fishbone: Actually, it's not that good. And Xen's an idiot, incapable of feeling emotio-
Xen: I can to! I just didn't care, s'all!
Ivory: You liar. But anyway, this is just the prequel, the ending part of it¼ anyway... if I have time I'll start on the first chapter of the actual story tomorrow, I'm sick with strep today.