Scars Ch. 7
#7 of Scars
Lucan was raised in a guild as an assassin at a young age along with his brother, Drake. After breaking one of the guild's laws, Lucan ran away and sought out by the guild's leader, Conway. After being saved from homelessness by a friendly Dingo named Chris. He tries to protect his new-found friends against his former family.
Patrick is at a local bar drinking a beer. His eyes looking in each and every direction. His right hand grasping the glass of cold liquor and downs the drink in one gulp. He sets the beer down and looks to the small t.v. set on the corner of the bar. The reporter talks about another robbery done by the gang, Scarface, this time a much smaller bank. Patrick sighs and takes and stares at the empty glass, Patrick then turns to the bartender. "Bartender, get me another cold one," Patrick says.
"Sure think Pat," the bartender says, fixing up another glass.
I dodge another slice from Victor's sword. Victor steps back and then returns with another blow. I block with my sword and he pins me to the wall. I force all my strength and shove him off me. Victor swings his sword vertically, I roll to the left and swing my sword. We swing and block continually as Chris ducks behind the couch, a look of terror in his eyes.
I block another attack, but Victor uses one of his legs to kick me in the belly, sending me flying to the wall. I stand up groggily as Victor just looks at me with feigned pity. "So this is the end to the great Lucan Gates," Victor mocks. "What happened to that mercenary I once thought as family?"
"You...family....I don't think so," I huff with exhaustion. I charge at him and he blocks my attack. We stand there, me pushes as hard I can, as he stands there, a single hand holding off my attack. His emotionless look gazes upon my angry, hateful eyes. With a sudden swing of his arm, I fall to my back, my sword crashing to the ground in front of me. Victor steps forward and with his free hand takes my sword.
"Hmm, 19th century, light sliver blade, and with a draconic emblem on the grip," Victor chuckles a bit. "You sure do have a weird sense of taste." Victor sheathes his own sword and grips my blade from the grip to the end of the blade. With a sudden crack, Victor breaks my sword in half. My eyes grow wide with shock and anger at the sight of my sword broken, and destroyed.
"You've made it less fun now," I said, standing to my knee. "You always enjoying the fight more than the killings."
"I've had a shit ton of fun with you," Victor said. "It's just..." Chris out nowhere flies over and plunges a kitchen knife through Victor's foot. The surprise by Chris gives me time to bolt up and tackle Victor to the ground, my hands around his throat.
"You lose the ability to talk shit to your opponent when you put your weapon away. My grip becomes more strong as Victor gasps, his hands flailing around. Victor uses his arms and legs and force me to tumble off of him. Victor jumps up as I do and I high kick him out into the balcony.
Victor slowly gets up and with one final kick I send him falling off the balcony. I breath heavily, I lean my head out to see the street. Victor's body is lying on the cement sidewalk, I'm too high to see any breathing, he may only be unconscious. A crowd of people come and see the body.
I catch a man on the phone, possibly calling police. I quickly back away from the balcony and close the balcony door. Chris is sitting, his back against the wall. I give out a sigh as I walk toward the frightened dingo.
"Did he hurt you?" I ask, extending my hand toward him.
"No," he says getting my hand, I lift him to his feet. "Just a little shaken up"
"I'm sorry," is all that comes out of my mouth. Chris doesn't say anything else, he just walks past me and picks up the kitchen knife, stained with Victor's blood. He holds the knife, his hand trembling with no sign of stopping.
Chris then bolts to the kitchen and throws the knife in the sink and turns on the water, washing the blood off the knife.
Patrick walks out of the bar, visibly drunk. He fumbles around in his pockets to get his phone. He dials a number and waits for an answer.
"Hello?" the voice on the line asks.
"R.J. it's me," Patrick says. "C...can you pick me up, I'm at the bar right now?"
R.J. laughs on the other line. "Sure thing man," R.J. says. "Hey, I got Eddie with me, we'll come over." After 10 minutes of waiting, R.J. pulls over the car, Eddie sitting in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette. Patrick stumbles over to the car and gets in.
As the car drives away, Eddie turns around and faces Patrick. "Yo Pat, ever thought about coming back?" Eddie asks.
"Fuck off Ed," Patrick says. "I'm drunk, but not enough to come back."
"Sit your ass down Eddie!" R.J. snaps.
"Oh right oh right," Eddie says, sitting back in his seat.
"Look Pat, I accept your decision to not com back to the gang," R.J. begins. "After what happened, I understand, but our guys are missing you man."
"Yeah, yesterday, Greg was yappin away at how much he missed ya man," Eddie says.
"Look guys, it's over. Done with, I'm done with," Patrick says.
"You're not done with," R.J. says, sympathetic. "All that alcohol is getting to your head." Patrick mumbles something then starts looking out the window, seeing all the people pass by.
I'm sitting on the couch, holding the remains of my broken sword. Chris hasn't left the kitchen, I can't hear a single thing. I can't go in there, seeing me would just send him over the edge. I gotta say though, that stab through the foot was a fucking brave thing to do. It was also the most idiotic thing he could of done.
Chris suddenly walks out of the kitchen, I turn my head toward him. Chris rubs his forehead and looks at me. "Is he gone?" Chris asks.
"Yeah," I say. "We're safe."
"For now," Chris says. I quickly stand up from the couch and go to him and place both of my hands on his shoulders.
"Victor is gone!" I said. "We won the fight!"
"What about your sword?" Chris asks. "That guy broke it like it was a piece of wood.
"I'll find a way to get a new one," I said. "Until then, let's hope we aren't attacked again."
R.J.'s car drives up to the apartment, a police cruiser is parked at the front, surrounded by civilians. "What the fuck?!" R.J. says.
"Did someone get mugged?" Patrick asks.
"The cops wouldn't of been called if that's the case," R.J. says.
"Hey Pat, why don't ya stay at my place tonight?" Eddie asks.
"Nah, I'm good Ed," Patrick says, opening the door to get out. "See you two tomorrow."
Patrick gets out and waves goodbye as the car drives away. Patrick turns to the apartment and walks to where the group of people are.
I dump the remnants of my sword in the trash. Chris is in the living room watching T.V. Victor better be dead, if not then we're both in deep trouble. I could tell he was holding back, maybe Conway told him to bring me back alive.
We both hear a knock at the door and I open it to see Patrick. "Hey man," Patrick says to me.
"Hey," I said back. "I'm guessing you saw the crowd outside?"
"Yeah," Patrick answers. "Hey Chris, let's go up to the roof."
Chris mutes the T.V. "I don't really feel that up to it right now," Chris replies.
"I insist, it'll help your mood," Patrick says. "Lucan can come too."
Chris sighs. "Fine," he says.
"So we're going to the roof?" I ask.
"I'll explain on the way come on," Patrick says.
We walk up multiple flights of stairs until we're met by a door. Patrick opens it up and a gust of air blasts us. After my eyes adjust, I'm met by a pretty open area, two vents occupy the corner of the roof, but besides that it's clear.
We walk all the way to the railings and I see the entire city. The large buildings and streets, the mountains in the distance, all of it beautiful. I hold onto the railings and look down to the ground. The police and crowd have now dispersed and now leave an empty sidewalk, not a single body.
"Even though the town is a cesspool of gangs and trash, it still somehow is able to be beautiful up here," Patrick says.
"It's magnificent," I said.
"This roof always was my way of cheering up," Chris says. "The first day here I was beyond depressed over my parents kicking me out. Patrick and I came up here and saw the view of the city and all my sadness just melted away."
"Melted away huh," I said, intrigued. Somehow, looking at the view myself, I don't doubt it, the effects coming onto me as well. All my regrets and and sorrow are taking a backseat as I'm overcome with bliss. Chris notices this and gives a small chuckle.
"This helped," Chris said. "I think I'm gonna head in for the night."
"Sure thing," Patrick says.
"I'll keep the door unlocked for you Lucan," Chris says, walking back to the door.
"Thanks," I waved goodbye. I turn back to the city view and notice the sun going down, making the city even more glorious. Patrick takes out a cigarette and lights it.
"I didn't want to say this in front of Chris since he already looks pretty overwhelmed. I was in that crowd of people at the front of the building."
"And?" I ask, my focus gone from the city and toward Patrick.
"I asked a guy what happened and he said some guy was on the ground. He thought the man was dead," Patrick says.
"Was he?" I ask.
"The guy says he saw the man stand up and walk away like nothing happened," Patrick says. I freeze, I turn to the city, not allowing Patrick to notice my petrified face.
"That guy attacked you didn't he?" Patrick asks, breathing out a stream of smoke.
"Y...yeah," I said.
"And Chris witnessed it," Patrick says.
"Yeah," I said. Patrick leans against the railings. He takes another hit of the cigarette and then flings it to the ground below. He then walks to the door, stepping in, he cocks his head to me.
"What ever the fuck is going on with you," Patrick says. "Chris better not get harmed because of it." Patrick then leaves, closing the door behind him. I tighten my hands into a fist, looking out to the city, the bliss I felt before has now been replaced by worry and stress.
Victor is still alive. And I have no weapon to protect myself and Chris. I have to figure out something fast, or this new life I've made is going to be short lived.