Book I Chapter 4: Absalom, Absalom!
Hello everyone! Here is the updated and edited chapter 4! I also bring news on the fate of chapter 5: After a reader brought to my attention the pacing issues with the story (which I full-heartedly agreed with), we decided to change the story to slow the pacing to a more appreciable level. Chapter 5 is complete, it's in the editing stages. The old chapter 5 is no longer canon. Also, why u do dis to me ff. why u mess up doc when i upload.
Luke gazed at his reflection in the mirror, enjoying the present Franka had given him the previous day. The Rhodes Island jacket was a significant upgrade from his cloak and fisherman's vest. Thick and durable, the black and blue-accented uniform had more than enough pockets for him. Luke crouched down to sift through the clothing piled on his floor. Finding what he was looking for—his cigarettes—he stuffed them into one of the jacket's inner pockets, where Grani would never find them.
There was a knock on the door separating their rooms. Probably Grani, he assumed. It was barely nine in the morning, and he hadn't heard any guests enter her dorm.
Bolting to his feet, Luke made himself busy adjusting his collars. "It's unlocked!" He watched through his mirror. As expected, Grani walked in. An oddly shaped rod hung from her shoulders. Her upbeat expression slipped from her face as her eyes swept across his room.
"What is this mess?!" she cried. Luke hummed casually.
"Uh, just cleaning up the place."
"Cleaning up?" she gaped, completely unamused. "Cleaning up involves putting things away, not tossing them all over the floor." Luke pulled his collars straight and ambled towards her, a slight bounce in his step.
"You see, little Grani, these aren't ordinary piles of clothing," he fibbed, tapping his mask's nose with his finger. "They're neatly organized groupings: each pile has its own defining characteristic."
Crossing her arms, Grani raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Which are?"
Pointing to each pile, one at a time, he replied, "Clean, mostly clean, dirty, probably dirty."
She looked at him with something between horror and disgust. "That's gross."
Luke tutted and shook his head. "No, it's ergonomic. I hate doing laundry. If I wore a shirt for only two hours, I should be able to wear it again," he argued with a proud smile, "So, what's up? Here to admire my handiwork?"
Grani rolled her eyes. "No way! I'm here to talk about today's schedule."
"Oh?"
"Yep! Today you have preliminary training and a medical exam. Unfortunately, Liskarm and I need to set up the training room, so Franka will take you down to the medical wing in the meantime."
"When?"
Grani checked her watch.
"Uh… they should've been here five minutes ago."
As if on cue, a familiar singsong voice echoed from behind the main door. "Little piggies, little piggies, let me in!" Grani stifled a laugh.
A second voice sighed. "Franka, please stop. That's both creepy and entirely unnecessary." Liskarm, clearly.
Luke didn't know what she was talking about. He found it entertaining and so he decided to play along. "No, not by the hair on my chinny chin chin." He squeaked, finishing with a snort. Boisterous laughter followed.
"Did—did you just snort?" Franka asked, struggling through a fit of giggles. Chuckling, Luke opened the door. He did a double-take.
"Liskarm, you wear glasses?" She stared up at him with two rounded squares framing her eyes. Her bangs swayed with her nod.
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No!" he shouted, catching the room's attention. Embarrassed, Luke coughed into his fist. "No, not at all. I think they fit—makes you look reliable."
"T-Thank you. For obvious reasons, I wear contact lenses on most days."
"Don't mind her," Franka teased, butting into their conversation, "she's not used to receiving compliments. You should have seen her face whenever our superior praised her performance." Luke didn't think it was possible for Liskarm's face to ripen further. He was wrong.
"Franka!" Liskarm's slender tail flicked aggressively. A single spark arced between the tips of her horns. Franka took a large step back.
"How to train your dragon, lesson one," she said. "If you hear crackling, buzzing, or witness any other signs of electricity, it's time to stop pushing."
"Sounds like good advice in general," Grani added, walking up to them. "Liskarm, we can leave whenever you're ready."
The Vouivre inhaled deeply. She held her breath for a moment before exhaling. The color slowly receded from her face. "Let's leave now. I don't think this room is shockproof." Grani chuckled nervously as they turned to leave.
"We'll see you later!" she shouted with a wave.
Luke stepped aside to let Franka in. "So this check-up… they won't be jabbing me right? It's a bit embarrassing, but I might be afraid of needles…"
"Nope! It's like a normal physical!" Franka folded her arms beneath her chest and frowned. "You know, I've just noticed," she said, looking around the room. "This place is a dump."
Luke scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, it's a huge mess, sorry about that." She waved away his apology.
"No, don't be. I'm used to it." Franka leaned closer with a mischievous grin. "After all, a certain someone's room is much, much worse." She raised an eyebrow, and jerked her head in the direction of the hallway. Luke stared at her in confusion. He was baffled for a moment before it struck him. He gaped. Liskarm?!
"No way."
Franka nodded. "Total pigsty."
"Do you have…"
"A picture? Of course. Wanna see it?"
He bit his lips. "Later… maybe."
Franka whirled on the spot, whipping her tail against his arm. "Suit yourself."
Luke stood, thinking about his decision. He was conflicted. He absolutely wanted to see Liskarm's room. Especially if it was as messy as Franka claimed. On the other hand, it was an invasion of privacy, and he definitely wouldn't be winning her favor if she found out. Luke shook his head. No use overthinking it.
"Yeah, I'll take the photo." He was met with silence. "Franka?" He bolted from his room, cursing as the door closed behind him, "Damn you, Franka!"
The Vulpo laughed. "I wasn't actually going to ditch you." The words sounded comforting, but they rang hollow. Something about her smile rubbed him the wrong way.
"Yeah… thanks." Franka led them through a maze of hallways before passing through a large gate. Hanging from it, was a large sign with bright, bold lettering.
Medical Ward. Luke read to himself. At least I know where I am…
Franka waved at passing personnel as she led him through the bright halls of the Medical Ward—something he mentioned. "You seem pretty popular around these parts."
The friendly mercenary skipped ahead, turned, and leaned toward him with a smile. "Well, I certainly hope so! I wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds me."
"What do you mean?" Luke asked, inquisitive..
Her response was simple. "I'm infected."
"Oh." They continued down the hall in silence.
"Does that bother you?" she asked, suddenly.
"No, but I also don't think I should respect you for it." She stopped in her tracks. Turning back, he saw Franka's eyes narrow dangerously thin. Her single-worded response spoke volumes.
"Explain," Franka demanded, her face contorted with barely-contained anger. Luke knew he was walking a razor thin line. He coughed awkwardly.
"Perhaps 'respect' was a poor choice, but to explain, my father once said: 'The wise are impartial because they see the people as they are.'
"I don't care if you're infected. I also wouldn't care if you were uninfected. To me, the words 'I'm infected' are pretty much the same as 'I'm a Sankta.' It's just another fact." Luke thought back to his experiences with the temple's visitors. He never wanted special treatment. He simply wished to be treated as an equal. A humorless chuckle slipped from his lips.
"If I were infected, I wouldn't want to be treated differently. I would want to be treated normally," he said with a grim smile. Franka was silent for a moment. Her eyes flickered with an unfamiliar emotion as she digested his explanation. Thankfully, it wasn't anger. That was all he needed to know.
Her voice was uncharacteristically candid—low and sweet. "For a second, I thought I was going to have to kill you."
Luke drew back, blinking rapidly. He was half shocked and half horrified. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" She giggled mischievously. It sent shivers down his spine.
"Mhmhm… not at all."
They continued down the hall, past several named offices—important members of staff, he presumed.
Dr. Gavial.
Dr. Shining.
Dr. Folinic.
RN Sussuro.
Dr. Silence.
Lord Ifrit slayr of homewrk. Luke rubbed his eyes. Everything save for the name "Ifrit" was scrawled with black permanent marker. That room definitely did not belong to a member of staff. He would wager his entire salary on it.
Franka stopped before a door belonging to one Dr. Warfarin. "We're here!" she cheered with a hop and a kick. "This is Dr. Warfarin's office. She's the leading hematologist here at Rhodes Island." Franka stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. "Don't tell her I said this, but she can be a bit strange at times. Other than that, she's a good person." Luke wasn't quite sure what to make of that, so he simply nodded. It'd be better to nod and play along, he thought, just in case.
I'd rather not make a fool of myself, thank you very much. "I'll keep that in mind."
Franka knocked on the steel door. "Dr. Warfarin! It's Franka. I brought Luke, as directed!" He heard shuffling and rapid footsteps before a young woman opened the door.
The first thing he noticed was the color of her skin. If Franka was pale, then Dr. Warfarin was white—bleached white. Even he, whose skin rarely saw the light of day, had more color to his face than she did. It was almost unnatural.
"Oh, good afternoon, Franka," the woman said. She turned to him. "And you must be Luke, yes?" He nodded. "My name is Dr. Warfarin. I'm a senior medic and one of the founding members of the Rhodes Island Medical Ward, though nowadays I mainly assist with research and health maintenance. It's a pleasure to meet you." She offered a hand.
Luke smiled and reached out to shake it. Warfarin seemed like a nice, albeit young, lady. To have helped with the founding of Rhodes Island, she must have started her career at a very young age. He figured she must be some sort of prodigy.
"The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Warfarin."
"I see you are a well mannered individual." Luke laughed quietly.
"If there's one thing my old man taught me, it would be 'treat ladies with respect.'" Franka frowned.
"Why don't you treat me with that level of respect?" she whined. Luke hummed in mock thought.
"What was it that Liskarm said? Ah, yes. You aren't any kind of a lady." Warfarin let out a sharp snicker.
"And humorous as well? You've got everything." Franka pouted as Warfarin stepped aside, letting them in. "Enough chit chatting. Why don't you two come in?" Luke followed her into the office.
Warfarin stopped before a reclined chair. She gestured towards it. "Have a seat, Luke. I'll be right with you."
He nodded and sat down. He looked around, fascinated by objects he had never seen before. Franka seemed amused.
"You act as if you've never been to a doctor's office."
Luke shook his head. "I haven't." He knew about doctors, surgeons, and their occupations, but he hadn't experienced it for himself.
She was taken aback. "Really?" A sly smile slithered onto her face, then disappeared as quickly as it came. Luke shifted restlessly in his chair. Sensing his discomfort, Franka placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Dr. Warfarin will only perform a quick, normal, totally routine check-up." Luke frowned at her oddly specific statement.
"And what else would she perform if not a quick, normal, and totally routine check-up?"
"Nothing, of course!" she replied hurriedly. Luke's eyes narrowed. Almost too quickly. Shortly after, Warfarin returned carrying a tray of tubes and plugs. She sat on a nearby chair and went about setting up her equipment.
"So what's on the menu, Dr. Warfarin?" he asked, his suspicious gaze still firmly fixed on Franka.
Warfarin waved a lazy hand. "Just Warfarin is fine. First, we'll cover the basics: height, weight, gender, age, BOCD, stuff like that."
"BOCD?" he asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Blood-Originium Crystal Density. It's a metric to measure infection level." Luke mouthed a silent "oh" in understanding. "After that, I'll take a picture for your operator records and ID."
"I—uh, I'll have to remove my mask, right?" He asked, tugging nervously at his collar. Warfarin shook her head.
"For the picture? No, not unless you intend to walk around maskless." Luke sighed with relief. Warfarin swiveled her chair to face him. "I will, however, need to see your entire face for the check-up."
"Can I refuse?"
"No. I need to check for crystal growths." His heart plummeted. "Might as well get it over with now." She glanced at Franka, who smiled, then took her cue and left the room. "If it makes you feel better, we are prohibited from sharing patient information. The last doctor who violated this rule was keelhauled under the landship." Satisfied, Luke reached up and unfastened his mask, revealing his scarring. Warfarin dropped the syringe she was holding, shocked.
"My god, what the hell happened?" Luke solemnly shook his head.
"I-I don't know, or rather, I don't remember."
"You don't remember?" she asked in disbelief, "I'd be hard pressed to forget an injury like that…" She paused as her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the damage to the right side of his face. Her eyes met his. "You're an amnesiac?" Luke nodded grimly.
"Washed up on some beach."
"Beach…?" He watched from the corner of his eye as Warfarin suddenly leapt to her feet and ran out of the room. She returned carrying a data tablet.
"Birthdate?" she asked in a hurry.
"Don't remember." Warfarin began to type.
"Age?"
"My adopted father says I'm 20, but I'm not sure."
She frowned, realizing the complexity of his situation."I'm going to assume Luke isn't your real name."
He chuckled mirthlessly. "Even if it was, I wouldn't know."
Warfarin set her tablet aside on a nearby counter and sighed."There's no point in continuing. You can put your mask back on." Luke slid the mask back into place. She handed him a black, bangle shaped object. "This Is your infection monitoring device. Everyone in Rhodes Island must wear one as a precaution."
"Where does it go?"
"Anywhere, really. Some operators even have it around their necks."
Luke fastened the ring around his left wrist. "Like that?"
"Yes. With that said, is it alright if I allow Franka back in?" He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.
"Yeah," he said, "that's fine." Warfarin called for Franka; he heard the door open again. The examination room was otherwise silent as Warfarin absentmindedly went about preparing her equipment.
Franka forced a smile. "You didn't violate him, right?" Luke looked up in horror, then behind him, as the sound of tumbling plastic reached his ears. Warfarin's face flushed as red as her eyes.
"What?!" she shouted. "Why would you even think that?"
Franka giggled mischievously.
"I don't know. Why else would you ask me to leave the room?"
Luke groaned. The sheer embarrassment of the situation pushed the lingering negative sentiment from his mind.
"Franka, please, stop," he begged.
"Okay…" she sang. Warfarin collected her tablet from the floor and cleared her throat. She proceeded as if nothing had happened.
"May I ask you to roll up your sleeves?" she asked while sanitizing her hands.
"Uh, yeah, sure." Luke shifted his jacket up his arm and held it in place by his armpit. "Here?"
"Perfect." Warfarin began wiping the inner part of his forearm.
"What's the wipe for?"
"Oh, it's to ensure your skin is free of originium, so we don't accidentally induce a false positive when the needle enters your body." she replied, as though it was an obvious fact. Luke's world came screeching to a halt. He did not sign up for this.
"I'm sorry, did you say needle?"
"Yes, how else would I extract the blood? With my mouth?" Dr. Warfarin asked, chuckling at her own joke.
Franka sidled up next to him. The devious expression returned to her face. "Don't be scared!" She cooed, patting him on his good cheek. "Your big sister Franka will hold your hand! Warfie's only going to stab you with a needle while all of Rhodes Island listens to your suffering in real time, I promise!"
"What?!" Realization struck like lightning. Her devious smile, her overly specific description of the physical, it all came to a head as Warfarin prepared her needle. Luke leveled an accusatory glare at Franka. "You planned this!"
She batted her eyelashes innocently. "Me?" Luke growled.
Warfarin cleared her throat. "Franka, I must ask you to give me some space. I can't safely draw blood like this."
Franka leaned closer to him, her brown hair tickling his bare arm. "I'll be back…" she whispered. Luke shivered with fear. Pulling back, she offered an apologetic smile to the doctor. "Sorry, Dr. Warfarin. He's all yours!" Warfarin grumbled under her breath.
"Alright, on the count of three, I'm going to insert the needle. Are you ready?" He glared daggers as Franka whipped out her phone, presumably to deliver on her promise.
"One…"
"Wait, I'm not—"
Pinch.
His cry echoed throughout the landship.
Luke rubbed his sore arm as he and Franka left the medical ward. He still couldn't believe how much blood Warfarin had drawn. He scowled as distant giggling tickled his ears. Several medical interns were pointing at him as he passed. He glared at the woman walking beside him.
"You're pure evil." he spat through gritted teeth. Luke roughly punched the button for the elevator. Franka smirked in response.
"Actually," she said matter-of-factly, "I am a pure-blooded Vulpo." Luke's black wings twitched with irritation. He pointed to them.
"You see that? They're not supposed to do that! You're killing me here, Franka. Killing me…" He fumed as more interns passed by, laughing. "Can't believe you did that."
"But don't you feel better?" Luke fell silent. He wasn't unaware of Franka's intentions and, despite his hostility, he wasn't truly upset with her.
Luke sighed. "Yeah, actually. I do."
"What do you say…?"
"Thanks, Franka. It means a lot to me."
She smirked up at him. "Just promise me you won't tell Liskarm."
Luke chuckled nervously."Something tells me she already knows."
"Oh?" He pointed towards the open elevator doors. Liskarm was standing inside the car with her arms crossed. She did not look pleased. Grani, standing beside her, waved awkwardly.
"How long have you been there?" Franka asked, full of apprehension.
"Since Luke pointed out his wings," Liskarm replied.
"So basically everything?"
"Yes." Liskarm seized Franka by the arm and pulled her into the elevator. Luke followed, meekly, the doors closing behind him. "Next time, Franka, if you're going to pull a prank, don't livestream it to all of Rhodes Island. It's almost like you wanted to be caught." Franka gave her partner a saucy wink.
"If it means getting captured by you, I'd do it all over again." Liskarm pulled Franka's ear—her human one—hard. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry!"
Grani leaned towards Luke."They're like an old married couple," she whispered. "They get along so well."
"I know, right?"
The elevator slowed to a stop. Grani and Luke rushed out the moment the doors parted.
"Get moving, you stupid fox," Liskarm commanded, releasing Franka's ear. "We still have operators to train." Franka rubbed her swollen ear and stuck her tongue out in a show of defiance. Liskarm scoffed."So childish." She beckoned them to follow. "Let's go."
As they walked down the hall, Grani took the opportunity to play tour guide. She gestured to a pair of large shuttering doors. "This is the Workshop! All the fabrication magic happens here. Need new tools? They've got you covered!"
If Grani hadn't joined the Mounted Police, Luke thought, she would've made a killing as a tour guide. Her cute appearance coupled with her boundless energy were a perfect combination that entertained even the ever-dour Liskarm.
They stopped beside a room with a long glass window, not far from the elevator. The Kuranta raised an arm like a school crossing guard. "And on our left is one of our many training halls! Here at Rhodes Island, we simulate a large variety of combat environments to ensure our operators are always in tip-top shape!" she explained. Looking through the window, Luke was greeted by an impressively authentic simulacrum of urban sprawl. Two operators, equally matched, sparred in the middle of a street junction, while a third observed from a nearby rooftop.
Luke leaned towards Liskarm. "It feels like I'm looking at the real thing," he whispered.
She nodded. "It's important we train in an environment that closely resembles our area of operation. It reduces the risk of unforeseen circumstances, and allows us to practice safely," she responded.
"Hey!"
"Mother of Higashi!" Luke jumped back in surprise. Grani was standing uncomfortably close, glaring up at him..
"Are you listening?"
"Uh… yeah…?"
"Then what did I say?" Luke looked at Franka helplessly. She smiled mischievously from behind Grani and placed a slender finger over her lips.
He turned to Liskarm. She shook her head with a frown. Her eyes conveyed a clear reluctance to help him.
Please. He begged silently.
Liskarm's gaze hardened. No.
"Uh… You said, seagulls, stop it now…?" he guessed hesitantly. Liskarm pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
"Why did I even bother…"
Grani humphed. "That's no good!" She tutted. "You have to listen to your senior operator! As punishment, I will be confiscating your evening snacks." She crossed her arms with a nod. "Mhm, a most fitting punishment indeed."
Silence.
Luke coughed awkwardly. "You know, if you wanted to eat my snacks, all you had to do was ask. I'm not a huge fan of snacking."
Grani's ears flicked. "Really?!" She cheered with stars in her eyes, "You're the best!"
Franka laughed. "It's adorable how honest you are!"
Grani blushed to her ears. "Th-that's not what I meant!"
"Well, whether she meant it or not, she has a point," Liskarm said. "It may not have been the case this time, but it's still good advice."
Grani beamed. "Indeed! As I was saying," she continued, seemingly eager to move past her blunder, "it's time for fun."
Luke blanched. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
"That's right!" Grani cheered. "Training!"
"Dear god," he groaned. His muscles ached at the thought. "I've been dreading this all day. Go easy on me, please?"
"Nope!" Grani smiled beatifically and pressed her ID against a scanner. The door snapped open with a hiss. "Come on, let's go."
The training hall was rectangular in shape. A window ran along the length of the room, with a double door on either side. Franka and Liskarm walked to the far side of the room. They picked up a sword and shield respectively.
"Are those your weapons?" He shouted across the room.
"Mhm!" Franka nodded with a smile. Liskarm was markedly more reserved.
"More or less." She replied with a shrug.
Luke gestured toward his partner. "How about Grani?" he asked. "She doesn't have a weapon." Grani smirked, then grabbed the pole hanging from her shoulder and brandished it with a twirl.
"I have this! My pike-rifle!"
"So that's what it is..." Luke thought out loud. "Must have been hard carrying that around all day." He unsheathed one of his swords.
Grani's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh! Is that the famed katana?" she asked excitedly.
Luke gave the blade an experimental twirl. He shook his head. "No, it's a tsurugi. It predates the Katana by about 400 years. This one was made by folding gem-steel 63 times. Each fold created another swirl." he explained, tracing a finger along the series of blue and silver folds.
Grani tilted her visor with a wink. "Bet it can't handle the pride of the Victorian Mounted Police!" she teased.
"We'll see." Luke shifted into a shoulder-forward stance. Forced to turn his head to maintain visual contact, he gripped his sword with both hands, and held the blade vertical at eye level. He couldn't help but feel like a space knight from one of Septimus' old-timey films.
Grani bent her knees and slightly lowered the tip of her pike, challenging him to attack.
Luke hummed. He slid his left foot back and lowered his blade; he released with his left hand and held it flat against his chest.
From the sidelines, Franka muttered her approval; Liskarm, surprised, queried Franka's knowledge of eastern swordsmanship.
"How does his stance give him the advantage? It seems like he's on the defensive," Liskarm muttered.
Franka shook her head. "By holding his sword at chest level, he can maintain a similar area of influence to his opponent, while improving his response time to attacks aimed at his legs."
Liskarm hummed thoughtfully. "Swordsmanship is needlessly complex.."
"Its complexity magnifies my charm," Franka replied.
"Yeah, sure it does," Liskarm said.
Satisfied, the pair returned their attention back to Grani and Luke.
Liskarm raised her arm and shouted, "This will be a simple one-on-one duel. The first to land a lethal strike wins. Forfeits are allowed. No killing or maiming. Period. Ready?"
Luke adjusted his fingers in a ripple, each digit rising, then falling back into place on his sword's hilt, one after the other.
Liskarm dropped her arm. "Begin!"
Instantly, Grani burst into motion. Luke stepped back. Pointing his sword downwards, he twisted his body to counter Grani's thrust. Supported by his left hand, the flat side of the blade smashed into her pike.
Her eyes widened; she was caught flat-footed by the speed and strength behind his parry. She stopped suddenly. Mid-strike and off balance, she rolled left and landed in a low stance.
"What did they feed you in that temple?!" Grani growled from her crouched position.
Luke smirked and returned his sword to a medium-stance. "When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs every morning to help me get large," he sang. Grani growled, knowing she was being mocked.
"What I lack in strength, I make up for with speed!" True to her words, the Kuranta charged forward in a blinding serpentine.
Franka smiled. "It seems our little pony is quite talented."
"It'll be hard to discern where she's striking from," Liskarm said.
The voices faded into the background as Luke sharpened his focus. One by one, the faux buildings surrounding them faded into the background. He placed his left palm against the flat of his blade and raised the sword over his shoulder. Pointing it directly behind him, he waited.
Leaning on her leading foot, Grani thrust forward. Inertia guided her body and pike towards Luke's exposed left flank. She grinned. "Gotcha!"
In the blink of an eye, he brought down his blade in a diagonal strike. The sword grazed the tip of Grani's pike, knocking it aside just enough to miss his body. "That was close," he sighed.
Grani immediately pulled back and thrust towards his right. She smirked.
You think you caught me off guard? Luke sidestepped her second strike, gripped his sword with both hands, and swung to the right. Think again. Its vibrant swirls arced toward Grani. She gasped. Luke hadn't been surprised. Not in the slightest. She raised her pike hastily, just in time to block.
"And now that I'm grown I eat five dozen eggs. So I'm roughly the size of a barge!" he sang, as his blow made contact.
The edge of his sword bit into her pike. The force of the blow knocked her weapon from her grasp. It clattered across the mock asphalt, then collided with the curb and came to a stop.
"No one hits like Gaston, matches wits like Gaston!" he bragged, gloating at his unexpected success. Grani's leg shot out in response, aiming high. Her foot slammed into the flat side of his blade, hard, knocking his sword aside. She followed up with a roundhouse kick to his chest, knocking the breath out of him.
Luke stumbled backwards. Clutching his chest, he winced. A stinging pain was stifling crushing his ability to breathe. Instinctively, he arched his back, and gasped with relief when his sternum popped back into place. Instantly, the pain subsided. "Eyes forward, big guy!"
He groaned. Grani had used the brief lull in combat to retrieve her pike and was headed straight at him. Luke raised his sword. "Bring it, short stack! I can take you any day!"
Grani's smirk unnerved him. He supposed she still had an ace up her sleeve. "We'll see about that." she said, as she leapt into the air. Luke raised his sword overhead, bracing the blade with his left palm. She brought the head of her pike crashing downward. Luke grunted as the force of the impact vibrated through his bones. His knees buckled under the sudden weight. Falling to his knees, he shoved upwards and threw Grani to the side with a roar.
"You're pretty heavy, aren't you?" His chest heaved from the physical exertion.
"What—are you calling me fat?!" Grani lunged forward. Luke batted her thrust aside.
Thrust.
Parry.
Riposte!
Her pike sailed overhead, landing tip-first and toppling over a few feet behind her. It didn't matter. She was unarmed, and at a significant disadvantage. Luke felt confident in his victory. He aimed a swipe towards her legs, hoping to force her on the defensive.
Grani leapt over his attack, catching him by surprise with a vicious upward kick to the chin. His head snapped back. Landing on her feet, she wasted no time in pressing the advantage and sent a spinning hook kick sailing towards his sword hand. There was a sickening crunch and a surge of pain as her heel crushed his fingers. Luke yelped in agony as his sword fell from his hand. He reeled, nursing his rapidly swelling hand.
Grani rushed towards him. She aimed a punch at his injured side. Luke moved to block, and watched helplessly as slapped his sloppy effort aside. He shut his eyes, braced for a second punch, but none came.
Instead, Grani grabbed his defending arm and flipped him over her shoulders. She crouched on his back, pressing a knife to his throat. "Yield!" she demanded, breathlessly.
Luke stopped struggling. Pinned down and unarmed, he knew he was beaten. He groaned with great effort. "Alright! Get off before you break something!"
Grani released her knife and rolled off his back, panting. Luke flipped onto his back with a groan. "Damn. You're pretty good, Grani," he admitted between rasping gasps of air.
"You're not so bad yourself." They heard footsteps, but both were too exhausted to move. It was Liskarm and Franka.
"So, Little Grani?" Franka asked, "What's the verdict?"
"Overall, he's an excellent swordfighter with strong form and solid technique, but he won't last long in a real fight."
Luke took offense. In his mind, he thought he'd performed well against her. "What do you mean? I think I did pretty good for a newbie. Pretty sure I almost won."
"That's true," Liskarm admitted, but her stern tone signaled an incoming lecture. "But in a real fight, almost winning isn't enough. You either win or you lose. You either live, or you die."
"It's only training," Luke protested. He felt like he was being unfairly judged.
"It doesn't matter!" she snapped, more forcefully than he'd anticipated. "This isn't a game! This is the real world. If you want to die, then that's fine. But by being foolish and careless, you'll endanger the lives of your teammates." Luke laid on the ground, silent. Each word was another blow to his ego, and weighed on his mind. Liskarm continued without mercy.
"Your unusual strength and speed saved you, but so what? Without them, you would have lost within the first minute. There's always someone who's faster and stronger.
"Also, Grani had you on the defensive the whole time. You could only react to her attacks. I would hardly call that winning." Those words stung most. Especially coming from Liskarm. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. He knew she was right.
"Okay." he said.
Franka's tone of voice was more sympathetic. "You are indeed talented with the sword, and your technique is strong, but rough and unrefined. You lack experience and discipline.
"Your first mistake was underestimating your opponent. Take every fight seriously. Even if your opponent is someone as adorable as Grani.
"Secondly, stay calm. Don't let your emotions control you." Luke remained silent as he let everything they had said sink in.
Franka smiled gently. "Don't let it get to you. We all had to start from somewhere. However, I think some CQC training is in order." He grunted in response.
Liskarm shot Luke in the face.
"You fucking bitch!" he cried, wiping away the red paint from his mask. "I can't believe you shot my mask! Do you know how much this costs?!"
"You can find a replacement." His flippant attitude and ridiculous obsession with his mask would only hinder his abilities as an operator.
Luke silently glared at her from across the mock-up street. Liskarm sighed. At first, she thought they had a lot in common: socially clumsy, quiet, at the mercy of Franka, but after their first day of training, she knew they had irresolvable differences that she could not accept.
"Did you really think you could catch me? The only thing 'fast' about you is how quickly you lose your temper."
Arrogant.
"You couldn't hit the side of a fucking barn if it walked up to you."
Vulgar.
"What? Getting tired? I expected more from a seasoned mercenary."
Churlish.
And most of all a painful reminder of the mercenaries that disgraced and tore her homeland asunder: The type of people she sought to overcome. The type of people she despised.
Liskarm scoffed as Luke raised his sword above his head. Fool. With a deep scowl, she stepped around his clumsy attack and elbowed him in the back, her leg sweeping his feet from under him. He fell face first onto the metal floor with a groan. Undeterred, she spun around, whipped out her side arm, and shot him twice in the back of the head. Let this be a lesson. She thought.
Luke yelped as paintballs smashed into his skull, hurling purple and yellow paint in every direction. Franka and Grani, who had been observing the bout, flinched as Liskarm pulled and recocked her gun. "You're okay," she stated plainly. "Get up."
She watched impassively as Luke pushed himself to a seated position. "My head," he whined. "Would it kill you to go easy on me?"
"Your enemy will not afford you such luxuries."
"No duh, but if you haven't noticed." Luke motioned around himself in an exaggerated manner. "This is the Training Hall!"
"Insufferable buffoon," Liskarm muttered to herself. She leveled a scathing glare down at him. Halo be damned, this man was a menace—Sin incarnate. "You're acting even more of a fool than when we first fought. Is this a game to you?"
Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "It's only a game if you find it fun. With a piece of work like you, it's anything but fun."
Liskarm clenched her jaw in an attempt to reign in her anger and failed. She shot him in the face again, painting his mask Orange.
He sputtered, spitting up orange paint. "Bitch!"
