Felyx
Her shout did nothing whatsoever to prevent the frenzy that ensued. An old man, probably in his sixties, grabbed a fruit knife conveniently placed on his table and lunged towards Felyx. His eyes were gleaming and unfocused, filled with madness that set Felyx hair on it's end. His unkempt hair was all over the place, and his beard was a white rabbit clinging for life at his chin. The mud speckled clothing he wore seemed to be a bit baggy for his frame, though, and there was a subtle clink-clink of metal against metal coming from somewhere on his person.
"Yaaaaaaaaar!" Mr John yelled, ready to strike at Felyx. The knife was poised above Mr John's head, making it very easy to penetrate through layers of skin to kill by severing an important part of the body. At the possibility of facing imminent death, a primal force awakened in Felyx. When the knife made it's descend, Felyx dodged to her left, grabbed the hand holding the knife with her right hand, and used it's momentum to bury itself in the attacker's thigh seamlessly. [Sorry, I couldn't resist. This is one way to defend yourself against attackers in real life. This is a very simple dodge, that only works when someone is trying to stab you with the knife from above. And you will not get arrested for this. Unless you have a black belt in martial arts... Like I do! :'(]
Felyx realized a bit too late that she had injured her attacker, which she was unwilling to do at first.
"Oh, my stars! Mr John! I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-" Felyx flung her hands into the air as words failed her, wincing as her broken hand was flailed about. She swallowed her tears and unspoken words, bowing her head, bracing herself for a barrage of attacks, including curses, from the old Mr John, only to receive a light pat on her head.
"Oh, no, my dear. It is I, who am sorry. I thought it was another mugger, like that time when you visited in the evening. Come now, this old codger faced worse than a small stab to the thigh. Your hand, however, it looks serious. Look, it's already swelling," Mr John noticed, reverting back to his civil, regular self in a heartbeat. The fact that Mr John had such personality issue unnerved her more than Mr John attacking her. She followed Mr John to the bathroom, but not before she set her precious bag down by the dining room.
Mr John hobbled over to the towel rack, which Felyx reluctantly admitted, looked a lot cleaner than the old man himself. Mr John then proceeded to remove clothing after clothing, finally reaching a thin layer of shiny material. Felyx leaned in to scrutinize the interesting choice of clothes.
"Is that..." Felyx muttered in awe.
"Yes, my dear. It was once a part of a Metang. When it died, the leftover metal was so much it was made into meaningless chain-mail, which ended up saving my thigh from your reflexes." As Mr John eased the chain-mail off, Felyx noted that the fruit knife had only gone through the inch think layer of clothing served as protection, and the mail prevented most of the knife from cutting flesh. There was only a scratch where the knife would have pierced. Blood still oozed weakly through the wound. Mr John quickly wrapped it tight around his thigh, a makeshift bandage. He then swiftly proceeded to soak the other towel in cold water. He quickly removed the cold towel and gently wrapped it around Felyx's left hand. He moved with such precision that Felyx suspected he had to do that a lot of times. Her mouth unconsciously let out a hiss as Mr John moved her wrist. It throbbed with a pain so ferocious, it felt her hand was dipped in acid and let to burn.
"I'm sorry, my dear. Just let it rest. Now, tell me, why are you here? I feel like you have a dual meaning to your visit,"Mr John pressed Felyx. She hesitated, bowing her head in thought or embarrassment no one will know. She finally looked up.
"When I was on my way here, three people hurt me and a boy had to intervene. I wasn't able to defend myself. I want to learn from you. I've heard from Uncle Quinn that you served as a prison guard-"
John
When I heard what she said, my face burned with shame. This sweet girl was under the cell I looked after while I was forced to serve as a guard in prison. I remember that single grueling year with her. Every time I passed her cell for the first few weeks, she would look at me balefully, and pierce a hole through my heart with those violet eyes. She never looked angry or even miserable. She always stared at me, almost disappointed, like a mother softly reprimanding a child. That was what made me fearful. I have heard... stories about her kind, and their ability to twist emotions and minds. I was frightened that she might trick me into letting her out. I also heard little snippets of my superiors' conversation during breaks, and obviously, this sweet little girl, Subject C, Clara, would go for testing in two years time in a lab far far away from the main city. Then, disaster struck. Village-Chief Quinn grew lonely and slightly delirious, he lost his control over the city. The people were starting to rebel, bringing and raising the banned Pokemon. It caused an uproar in Quinn's house. He felt that he was losing his touch, and his mind, mind you, over the people and decided to subdue and train a dangerous criminal to be a regular meek citizen. By then, Clara seemed much more hopeful than she usually was, always facing the window, like she was waiting for someone. Fear zapped me like a lightning bolt. What if she had contacted someone else outside of the prison grounds? What would happen if her kind stormed the city and turned everyone against themselves. So when the Chief came, I cautioned him about the dangers of small, witty people, and tried to tell him to choose a burly man, someone who was not the sharpest sword in the scabbard. I was scared, scared that if Clara was set free, she would have revenge on us, on me, with an army of her kind. I retired after Quinn took her home, making sure to erase my existence from the world, pretending to be a crazy old man who had a hard, battle-weary time in the army. But two years later, Quinn found me, and as punishment for "talking back to him and questioning [his] authority", he made sure he sent untrusting seven-year-old Felyx to me everyday, every week, at the same hour. Thankfully, she seemed to have lost all of her memory before the age of 6, and although she was wary of my presence, probably having a sense of familiarity to me, she gradually warmed up and soon, she enjoyed my company, the feeling being mutual.
"And- Mr John?Is everything alright?" A soft voice called me back to reality. Felyx was staring at me, curiosity bringing a bright shine to her usually dull eyes, color watered down by her tough time behind rock solid bars. The sight of her eyes staring woefully at me many years ago was brought to mind, and my eyes stung.
"Everything is fine."
"Okay... Right! I just remembered something!"Felyx said, slapping her forehead. She, careful not to move her left hands, reached into her skirt's hidden pocket, with made her twist her body into a complex and painful yoga pose. I tried not to wince as he stared at her. Finally, it seemed as if she found the object of her search.
"Uncle Quinn demands that you return to guard duty, although you're retired," Felyx told me bitterly, passing along a scroll with the stamp of the House of Quinn on it, as if she could not believe her "Uncle" would force a man out of retirement. Fury ran through my veins. I swear one day, he would get divine punishment for treating all of his people, the dwellers of this village, in a harsh way, such as imprisonemnt for stealing to provide for another poor family, beheading for just touching the hem of his robes and many more.
Clearing her throat, Felyx turned to me with a somewhat hopeful expression. From her bag, she fished a leather bound book and a long velvet case.
"Mr John, as I said earlier, I wish to learn self defense. Uncle Quinn would never left me learn something so dangerous, so could you teach me in secret? Here, Mr John. I even saved my Gems to buy these, as payment for teaching me! So, please, please! Teach me how to protect myself, Mr John!" Felyx pleaded, her bright eyes melting my empty heart and moulding it into something nicer, immediately cutting off the word 'No' from my mouth. Oh, traitorous heart! What do you feel towards this skinny youngling? I grabbed the antique pen and old books from Felyx's outstretched arm. It was a first edition copy of "Orphanage of Heartbreak", by an author I worship, No doubt, this old, worn book was worth thousands of Gems,and along with the antique silver pen, which had 'John' carved into the pen and under the large athemyst at the tip, would have taken millions of days to save enough Gems. Overwhelmed with gratitude towards a girl I took part in torturing, it took all of my manpower not to break down in tears before this ignorant girl.
"Fine, little Felyx. But these bones of mine," I shook my limbs for emphasis," are old, so I may not be able to teach you for long. Why don't we meet up once a week, or maybe two?" Feeling slightly proud of my steady voice, I anxiously waited for Felyx's answer. Contemplating her reply for a few seconds, the slight jerk of her head indicated that she agreed with my conditions.
I picked up her bag, which was a whole lot lighter, I supported Felyx as she stood up, wobbling towards the front door. She received her bag and carefully glided towards the front door.
"I'll see you next week, then, Mr John!" Felyx smiled cheerfully, before walking out of the door with all the grace of a fish out of water. Chuckling at the way her face contorted in confusion as she missed the door by inches, I loped back to the living room, and would have settled down in the chair, if there had not been something there.
On the lovely bright red couch Felyx had just warmed, there was another book. One of the forbidden ones. All About Pokemon.