Chapter 2: Follow the Biscuit, Ya Cute Puppy...
A/N: well, i finally got time to write up a chap. enjoy!
Disclaimer: i dont own Magic, the Gathering. do i look like Richard Garfield to ya? Nor do I own Sentry Box, which is an actual place, by the way.
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"I'll buy! I'll buy!" Benedict hollered as he clumsily ran to the person making the offer. He wanted to be the first to make a deal. As he did, the old man lowered his leathery hand and clutched the deck at his side. The man turned a white eye to Benedict, adding a smile that stretched the wrinkles on his worn out cheeks. But it wasn't the smile that turned into a toothy grin that widened Benedict's eyes. It was that colorless left eye…the man was blind. Benedict felt sorry for the old man. It must be horrible for him…I mean, he can't see at all. How would I feel if I couldn't see? I would be crushed…heh, i wouldn't even get to duel, let alone go anywhere without hell falling on me. I don't feel sickened, but pity...
The man turned to face Benedict, revealing his right eye to be a blue-green color. Benedict blinked; he had thought that both of the man's eyes were blind. But still he sympathized for the man and his condition. Ok, it still must be hard on him… such a handicap can just destroy one's life… at least that's what I've heard. Meh, I guess it's possible to overcome such a thing. Whatever.
The old man's shaggy white mane brushed the shoulders of his green overcoat. Benedict had gotten close enough to see the individual hairs of the old man's moustache and smelled an alcoholic bitterness on the man's breath. It was actually inviting, for it had a scent that he had never smelled before. It smelled bitter-sweet, but with a hint of something new.
Benedict asked, "How much for your deck?" He had fifty dollars in his pocket, not even close to the asking price of a Mox Jet, but maybe enough for a few individual cards. The old man grinned as he began to speak, but was interrupted by a yell from the corner.
"I kill off Owen with my 58 flying Angel tokens!"
Benedict watched as Owen calmly responded to the threat, casting a Holy Day. He then smiled as he laid down an Ensnaring Bridge to go with his Moat. His angle playing rival, a tall, bossy looking man wearing a white t-shirt with a yellow sun symbol on it, blinked and said with bitterness, "Ach! You suck… "
An insulting group laugh was the response directed at the Angel player who had to take the disgrace like a man. Hewasn't taking it very well, for a red hue slowly spread upon his cheeks.
Benedict wondered why there at least one more person who wanted to buy the deck? The people in the multiplayer game were far wealthier than he could ever be. They would snatch up an offer like this at the snap of a finger. In fact, anybody would. So why was he here by himself? Were the people participating in the multiplayer too loud, blocking off their ears to the old man's announcement?
Laughter erupted again, this time caused by an Echoing Truth targeting an Angel Token. The guy, having lost all his Angels, not to mention Akroma, promptly forfeited, stomped off, and went downstairs to cool off. As the guy passed, Benedict heard him mutter, "A box of Ravnica will do…"
They buy way too much. Wait, I've still gotta buy the Pox deck!
"Umm… so how much?" Benedict said, drawing the other's attention back to him.
The old man, who had been patiently waiting, produced a flask from his coat and drank a swig. He dried his mouth and started in a gruff, southern drawl, "Ah! Nothin' like good brew ta raise yer spirits, eh kid? Anywho, yeh want ter buy my old friend, eh?"
Benedict nodded enthusiastically. The man continued, "Nah… I won't be a sellin'"
Benedict's mouth dropped open. The bloody hell! How can someone come all the way here and deny potential buyers an offer he just made! Outrageous! I wish hell upon thee for making me get up! Pshh… it's always too friggin, good to be true.
The old man grinned before saying, "I won't sell in yer terms o' money. Yeh'll have ta earn it with yer dueling prowess!" The old man's eyes closed momentarily as he said this, revealing a second, less noticeable scar on the eyelid of his blind eye.
Slowly closing his mouth, Benedict became relieved. He still had a chance at this deck. The old man only wanted a duel! He got up and went to retrieve a deck, a D6, and his
TI-83 calculator. Fuck, I take back everything I just said. I don't wish hell upon him, okay? Hell, emotional buttons… you gotta hate them. I know I do… causes all sorts of transgressions problems that I'm still responsible for… wait. Damn it, I'm talking to myself. Of all places! I gotta be aware, damn it. In this part of Calgary, they're ruthless; they steal cause they can. Where was I, anyways? Oh yeah… meh, forgiveness never comes, anyways. If it does, it has to be earned. The hell do I even bother? It's pointless to talk…
As Benedict rummaged through his backpack and thoughts, Serge, stared into the pages of teen's trading binder. With a hint of confidence in his voice, he said, "I want this card." He turned to face the frantic teen, who was now rummaging through his backpack across from the table where he sat.
Not paying attention, the frustrated young man said, "Sure."
Oh shit! That sandwich is still here? I thought I threw it out weeks ago! Bloody… this is retarded. I hope mold doesn't grow in here. I mean, where else do you find a backpack that elegantly combines blue and black to say "I'm bruised"? Where? Nowhere! They stopped selling these! Well, at least there ain't any mold. Phew… cards are safe…it's all good. Heh, might as wells pack away my CD player…
Serge then asked, "I'll trade this for it?" He held up a card. Benedict put away his electronic device and pulled out a deck box made of electrical tape. It had many slashes on it, revealing red electrical tape underneath the black. The letters "RIP" were carved on the front. Hope for peace; even wish it for the most hated enemy. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." But, if they trespass, friend or family, they will pay flesh and blood… only in eternity is there peace for them then. Heh... I wonder if my views are skewered or something...
Not even looking at the card in Serge's hand, Benedict answered, "Sure." Yeah… dreams come true! When I first started, I wanted a Pox deck, but I never could afford it…Thank you for this opportunity, God.
Serge happily pulled the card he desired out of the binder page and inserted his own "valuable" one in its place. He then left the store, wondering why Benedict seemed to be talking to no one on the stairway. Serge observed that Benedict was now following the invisible person somewhere to the back. Serge blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded by this behavior. Maybe it was some sort of ritual thing? The guy looked "Emo," after all and Serge had noticed a red slash on Benedict's arm when they had dueled, Yep, Benedict must've been doing some dark ritual. Emo kids did that kind of shit.
Satisfied by his rationalization, Serge left Sentry Box. Crossing the parking lot, he took out his prize. It was so cool! He silently thanked Benedict for the rare card. The guy wasn't as bad as he looked if he gave away cards like that. Heh, it was like when his dad gave him expensive things from overseas. Coming to Sentry Box had been worthwhile; a rather strange player, and the even better trade made it such a treasured memory. Serge grinned all the way home.
0o0o0
Benedict shuffled the old man's old and worn deck… Damn, didn't they have sleeves back then? He looked at his ancient adversary sitting across from him. Benedict had a feeling… the man was shuffling his deck in an odd fashion. He had seen one of his friends do this before, and it was usually a sign of cheating. Sure enough, there was a huge chunk of Benedict's deck that remained on the bottom. The old man mixed Benedict's cards as sly as a fox. Hell, I know he's screwed up my deck. He's not being conspicuous at all; he's not covering up that chunk that didn't get shuffled. But I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he doesn't even know what he's done. Maybe it's just the way they shuffled decks back then. Whatever…
The elderly combatant placed the younger one's deck in front of him. The teen almost didn't find his black-sleeved deck, for the back room was never completely lit up. Only a lamp that spewed out a dull red glow provided lighting, but even then it failed to cast a few feet from the corner that it guarded. Hell, I didn't even know they had this room back here. It must be the employee's gaming room. Well, it doesn't look presentable for the public, and they skimped out on new lights. The paint job is crap. Even this table looks like it was fetched from a dumpster. At least the chairs have padding on them. Heh. Who can blame them? New stuff costs too much. And the dark is good. It's around four, so the sun probably isn't down yet. I guess it's kinda a luxury to see night at this time.
"Kid, this's how it'll work. Best two out o' three match. If ya win, I'll give ya my deck as prize. If I win… well, I find another client. I want some-un who got a knack fer the game ta give mah deck ta. N I want to git rid o' this deck 'ere fast, ya know. If yer not good, yehr not worthy for mah deck. Ya got that, eh?"
Benedict answered with a, "Yes," and handed the old man his shuffled deck. Maybe this isn't a good idea. I mean, a deck is a person's soul. It stands for what they are. People put all they have into a deck! Hell, if I do win, I can continue the man's legacy… whatever it may be. Doesn't a father wish his son to progress his reputation? But what if he doesn't have a child? I'm sure it's the same for one who quits the game to see their work go on. Heh, it's not like I'll really stand a chance, though. It's a Vintage deck I'm up against, so there's a chance some damned overpowered card is in there. And this guy looks like he's not going to go easy. After all, he's after someone with high caliber skill, skill that I have not when compared to countless others.
The old man looked suspicious while Benedict thought. Noticing Benedict was back in reality, he said gleefully, "Ya know what, kid? If someone's gonna lose, we might as well's have fun, eh? Ya look glum, kid. I'll cheer ya right up!" He produced a clear glass and a couple of shot glasses from a large drawstring bag he was carrying. A pale green liquid glimmered inside the bottle, using the limited lighting to cast it's grim color onto the table.
The old man popped the cork and said, "Ya know what this be? This be absinthe."
The teen tilted his head. "Absinthe? What's that?"
The aged man chuckled. " 'Absinthe? What's that?' Kid, that be rather ignorant o' ya. Hell, ya must not be getting' out often enough… this be the brew o' the elders. Yeah, Absinthe be a makin' yer mind travel to Wonderland n back! It be the medicine fer inspiration! It be like making love ter the muse Calliope… ideayers pop up like rabbits! 'Cept in absinthe's case, it be stored in a bottle 'stead of yer beautiful maiden, n it be a tastin' wormwood, licorice n alcohol 'nstead o' love juice, sweat n spit!"
He then laughed some more. The teen just stared into the bottle, intrigued as he listened to the elderly man continue.
"Anywho, kid, let's have some fun 'ere, eh? Fer every 10 life lost, yeh take a shot of the brew. Usually, yeh do a ritual 'fore ya drink, but hell… the game's a ritual, eh? So… do ya accept this stipulation?"
Benedict was still zoning out. The essence of Calliope… He nodded, answering, "Sure, I'll try some." Inspiration's something I truly need.
"This be potent stuff; it be un-dee-luted. Hell, ya might be getting outa this 'ere room drunker than Klein. Ya sure ya still want ter duel, eh kid?"
The army-jacket-wearing teen punched "20" into his TI-83, casting the D-6 as he did. It landed on 5.
The old man looked into Benedict's eyes, and could see an expression of cold determination. Heh, if I know I'm going down, I'm going out with a bang. The old man cast took the die and said, "I see yeh've taken my challenge." He cast the die, which bounced with a thud on the table and landed on 2.
BENEDICT: 20OLD MAN: 20
Benedict went. "Swamp. Done." Damn… Heart of Darkness could've at least spit out a Dark Ritual. Fuck. I should have mulliganed.
The old man drew. "Swamp. Play yer Mox Jet."
MOX JET 0ARTIFACT
T: ADD B TO YOUR MANA POOL
"Sinkhole yer swamp!"
SINKHOLE BBSORCERY
DESTROY TARGET LAND
"Shit," Benedict muttered angrily under his breath as he pitched his swamp to the grave. To add to the insult, Sinkhole was a card Benedict wanted dearly. See! Overpowered. I told you, I told you, I told you… its not likely I'll win. Ugh! I'm talking to myself yet again! This is ridiculous! The old man let out a snicker, then ended his turn.
The Filippino drew. He smiled. It was something he needed. "Swamp. I cast Sol Ring."
SOL RING 1ARTIFACT
T: ADD 2 TO YOUR MANA POOL
"Done." Hmm… perhaps my smile will work as intimidation. Maybe he'll think I have something strong here. But shit, he knows he's already winning. Look at what he's doing; such an arrogant gesture!
The aged man, who had apparently been sleeping for the few seconds of his opponent's turn, opened his blind eye. Seeing his adversary was finished, he snatched a card from his deck. "Swamp. I play The Rack."
THE RACK 1ARTIFACT
AT END OF TARGET OPPONENT'S UPKEEP, THE RACK DEALS THAT PLAYER 1 DAMAGE FOR EACH CARD IN HIS OR HER HAND FEWER THAN THREE
"Next, play Hymn ta Tourach," the old man sneered out.
HYMN TO TOURACH BBSORCERY
TARGET OPPONENT RANDOMLY DISCARDS 2 CARDS
"If ya can't git back up after a bit o' hurtin' to yer mind, maybe ya be unworthy fer my deck."
Benedict let out a long, "Psshhhhhh…" in irritation. He shuffled his hand, and held it face down for the old man to choose. Using his pointer, middle, and ring fingers, the old man pecked up 2 cards. They were a Dauthi Horror and Crucible of Worlds, which then joined the swamp in the grave. The experienced player gestured that his turn was done.
The goth boy drew. "Swamp," then, his voice turning hoarse, "Grinning Dhe-mon!"
GRINNING DEMON 2BBCREATURE-DEMON
DURING YOUR UPKEEP, GRINNING DEMON DEALS 2 DAMAGE TO YOU
MORPH 2BB
6/6
The old man assumed Benedict was done and quickly drew. "Cast Ensnaring Bridge."
ENSNARING BRIDGE 3ARTIFACT
CREATURES WITH A POWER HIGHER THAN THE NUMBER OF CARDS IN YOUR HAND CAN'T ATTACK
Oh bullshit…After playing Bridge, the elderly man began to chuckle. This annoyed Benedict, and he thought he had heard the man say, "Have fun, kid!" to add to the insult. It was difficult to prove this was any sort of offence, or that was what he truly said, for the old man had garbled up his words with his laughing.
The teen untapped his Mana. Grinning Demon dealt 2 damage… only 2 cards in hand, so 1 more…
BENEDICT: 17OLD MAN: 20
Benedict calculated the damage into his TI-83 and flicked a card into his palm. Grinning Demon can't attack, so he's gonna end up killing me. And if I keep this card in hand, I can prevent the damage from The Rack. But the old geezer still has 3 cards in hand… he's just gonna discard my cards. That's the whole strategy of Pox, anyways…I'll just have to cast something-
"Kid, yeh be a takin' too long, see. I have other things ta go n do… see, I be in a hurry. Ta me, this game be a business. Either ya make haste or ya lose. N' when ya lose in business, ya loss eveythin'. I'm in hurry now. I gots other thin's ta do."
The old man's words snapped him from his thoughts, but the annoying rattling of his knuckles was the thing that put Benedict back to action. He still had to try…
"Swamp. Play Umezawa's Jit-ay and Necropotence!"
UMEZAWA'S JITTE 2LEGENDARY ARTIFACT-EQUIPMENT
EQUIP-2WHENEVER EQUIPPED CREATURE DEALS COMBAT DAMAGE, PUT 2 CHARGE COUNTERS ON UMEZAWA'S JITTE.
REMOVE A CHARGE COUNTER FROM UMEZAWA'S JITTE: CHOOSE ONE- EQUIPPED CREATURE GETS +2+2 UNTIL END OF TURN; OR TARGET CREATURE GETS –1/-1 UNTIL END OF TURN; OR YOU GAIN 2 LIFE
NECROPOTENCE BBB
ENCHANTMENT
SKIP YOUR DRAW PHASE. IF YOU DISCARD A CARD FROM YOUR HAND, REMOVE THAT CARD FROM THE GAME.
0: PAY 1 LIFE TO SET ASIDE THE TOP CARD OF YOUR LIBRARY. AT THE BEGINNING OF YOUR NEXT DISCARD PHASE, PUT THAT CARD INTO YOUR HAND. EFFECTS PREVENT OR REDIRECT DAMAGE CANNOT BE USED TO PREVENT THIS LOSS OF LIFE
"End of my turn, I pay 7 life."
BENEDICT: 10
OLD MAN: 20
But as Benedict calculated the life loss, the old man interrupted, "Kid, sorry ta inturupt yer technology crap, but ya be a forgettin' somethin'. Yeh remember our agreement, eh?" He gleefully poured a full shot of absinthe into a shotglass, which he then slid across the table. The glass of green brew came to a stop at Benedict's unclothed fingers.
Benedict took the shot up to eye level. His head tilted slightly to his side as he examined the drink in curiosity, like a child. He then twiddled his thumb and index, making the liquid splash as he did. His heart raced and his body twitched. Maybe he won't notice… he'll think I accidentally spilled it.
"Hey, kid," the old man interrupted, "don't be a thinkin' ya can git away with that!"
Benedict, who was startled by his opponent's ability to see through his ploy, stopped twiddling. His eyes were open with shock. Does he see that I'm trying to lessen the amount I drink?
"Kid, ya be ta curious, eh?" the old man chuckled, "Ya be goin' and examinin' the brew taa much. Ya gotta be a bit more spontaneous n 'ave fun! Ya be so interested 'bout what's in the brew… nothin' deadly. Now, don't be shy n drink up! Heh, I may be runnin' outta time, but I be willing to compensate wit' fun."
Benedict gave a mental sigh of relief. He must've thought that I was really examining the glass! Ha! I mean, I don't want to get drunk from this. It'll affect my playing. Well, at least he didn't see that I was scared. Not like I really was, though. And what was up with that? He has to be hasty for business but waits for me to drink for fun? Heh, talk about contradicting yourself.
The black clad teen then emptied the green liquid into his mouth and swished it around a bit. It tasted pretty damn good. It had a it left a strange aftertaste that lingered on his tongue. Sort of like what he imagined beer would taste like if it had been siphoned through a dirty gym sock, but it tasted great, wonderful even! Heh, it wasn't that the distinct, strong bitter taste was incredibly strange to the tongue, or the alcohol that tasted like piss that made it enjoyable. But, it was the idea that he was defying what his parents' orders to never "sin" made him feel free and wonderful. He was still underage and new to the world, and he wished to taste what it had to offer. He was like a dove, flying through the blue sky, rising on winds. Was it even considered a sin to take a few sips of something fresh?
"Kid, enough daydreaming. Continue yer turn, will ya?"
Benedict's mind snapped back to reality, and the dimly lit room. He was about to point his finger at the old man to single the end of his turn, but as he raised his arm, it went limp and fell at his side. Holy shit! What's going on! My God, what the bloody hell is going on! Damn it! It was only a single shot!
A single alarming thought raced before his quickly failing mind, continuing his dreadful thoughts, the drink must be spiked. I trusted him too much…
The senior then witnessed the as the teen's facial expression contort to terror, then laxed as he promptly fell face first onto his side of the table.
"Yo, kid? Ya all right? Ya passed out? Kid?"
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A/N: so, what do you think? Perhaps the drink was spiked? An overreaction to a new substance? Will this duel continue? Or did I just create an ending for my story? Hmm…
meh, it took a while to get this typed up. i blame school. yeah, anybody else who notices school pretty much eats all the writing time? or for those who are out in the working world, aint it frustrating? i have an answer! it is called skipping! it works! ya just have to run as fast as your stubby legs can carry you when your supervisor/teacher/boss spots your ass... meh, its worked for me. actually, i just lied my ass off on why i didnt show. what? typing is more fun than monotone Ben Stein like teachers... the clicking. what? its more pleasant than the monotone excitement of "they killed many people. it was wrong, kids. you should not kill people. the ten commandments..." fuck. is he a damn social teacher or religion teacher? Heh, if being so flat and boring in speech could kill, I'm sure Bishop Grandin Senior High School's population would be… well, how many decent world leaders are out there?
Heh, about the absinthe thing… well, had to throw in something original. Soooooo… well, I thought I should throw in something related to being goth. Meh, I needed something that isn't clichéd… oh wait. Drinking and gambling are clichéd, along with goths taking in faery's brew… damn… whatever. Everything in today's world is clichéd… if anyone can come up with anything original, kudos to you, indeed. Bleh, I shoulda chosen a beverage ive actually drank. Oh, in reality, ive never had a drop of alcohol on my tongue. Im missing out on a lot, eh?
Serge… well, I had intended to have it be more of a "Sir-Gey" than "Surge". You know, a russian name. Heh, I didn't know it was suppose to be spelled "Sergey" when I wrote up the chap, so I guess this is a big mess up… with rather splendid results. Why? The name just sounds more original. All because I forgot to put in a single "y"…
anyways, like arrathir, i shall answer individual questions. except theyll be posted on the review page. what? i still want to respond, but those effing admins dont want me to? why? my guess its cause they think responses impede with actual story. you know, like making a author note a whole chap. heh. thats retarded. in fact, i know lots of people whove written songfics and whole chapter author notes anyways. heh... guess its how much gall you have flowing inside that indicates if youll do this kinda risk or not. check the review pages and youll find my reviewer response there. hell, also check arrathir's review pages and see how many nonsense reviews ive made. well i was trying to compete with seraph song on making things that re wild... sorry, but ive stopped reviewing for arrathir's "the awakening." ill be spending most of my writing time on this story, and im hoping it will be something somewhat good. see, i like constructive critisism. specifically when i get to the angst. hell, i also want to make this as much of an opposite of a mary sue as i can. make "Benedict" and any other OC in this human and believable. heh...
until next time... if you find a lost black and red hummingbird that answers to the name Fergie McGee, please return him for a small reward. im lonely without my little buddy... and have only Morrina to talk to... and she's friggin INSANE! help! AHHHHHHH! (insert pain right here)
heh, the day I act my age is when I die