A Dangerous Walk Home -- Midnight Rendezvous With A Specter of the Past

“Well, this is actually kind of relaxing…” Char yawned as he plugged ahead with his job’s escort trailing closely behind. It was a late, late night in Talonia, several hours after the time that was on the listing, but Char didn’t really mind outside of being a little groggy for it. “Don’t really see why you needed to kick back that many, though.” He made a little drinking motion with his thumb and pinky finger.
       The client was a woman, more than twice his age. The look in her pea green eyes gave her a sense of constant fatigue, though—as Char had found out the hard way—that was only a thin façade. She had posted for a “mage to walk me home,” but it had turned out to be more of a “I need someone to drink with” sort of thing. One thing was for sure: she definitely had a hollow leg.
       “Don’t judge me on my tab, dear. Besides, you kept up. A party boy, are we?” Her gruff voice managed to make it past a summer cicada that was clearly in a tree nearby. She preened, for some reason. Char turned back to face her while continuing to walk backwards.
       He gave a shrug. “Yeah, but I’m 20 and you’re… what? Like, 45—50?”
       She laughed uproariously. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! I’m 35!”
       “It say that on your license?”
       “Please.” She waved her hand dismissively. Char swiveled back to his
previous position.
       “Whatever.” He swallowed a little. “I meant to bring this up back at the bar, but I didn’t want to interrupt our previous conversation… I saw when this job was posted. Three days in advance.”
       “Excuse me?” She cocked one of her eyebrows up.
       “Are you expecting us to run into anybody?”
       “A-are you asking me if this was like a set-up or something?”
       “Listen, I took the job. I’m here.” He looked intently over his shoulder at her. Char knew his only outstanding warrant for arrest was several unpaid loitering fines. He had either dealt with or paid the rest. “I have nothing to worry about. You, on the other hand, I suspect of having hired me for a reason. Crazy—I know. So,” he stopped for a moment, “if there’s anything I should know about so that I can complete this job the best I can, you should make that known now.” He rolled his eyes condescendingly at the woman shaking her head. “Like, say—I don’t know; just putting this out there—someone who promised to attack you at some point today…”
       “I’ve just been uneasy lately… you know?”
       "And you knew you were going to be ‘uneasy’ right here, right now,” he pointed at the ground, “three days ago?” She went quiet as he crossed his arms. “You’d have more luck selling a pyramid scheme to me. At least that gig would fit your age group.”
       “Well…” She sighed, “I am worried about a certain someone…”
       “No way! Alright, well hopefully you can walk and talk—what are we talking?” He started up again.
       “Well—” Just then, the clanging of metal against wall rang out from a nearby alleyway.

---

TWC: 520/500

“Well, well, well… If it isn’t… Char?” A stout man with several rings on each finger hobbled out from the shadows between buildings. He had a long face and was clad in a white suit. “Long time, no see, pal.” He took a drag from his three cigars, all lit in between the fingers of his right hand.
      “Aw, godammit. You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Char eyed the lady for a second out of the corner of his eye.  She looked scared witless. “Fuck. Talonia is your turf, now, isn’t it, Don Igbo?”
      “Yer damn right, little man.”
      “Okay, so where’s the—” Two men stepped out from the dark, both holding machetes. One of them was holding a briefcase. “—Goon squad… just great.” Char deflated a little. “You on business for me or the woman?” He slowly moved his hand to the clip for his staff while keeping it behind his back.
      “Ah, good question.” Don took another puff. “Dis chick owes me around 5000 jewel, give or take… So, me, being the legend I am—” Another puff. “—decided to beat the shit outta her when she didn’t pay me back in time, which was yesterday, if I heard my accountant right.”
      Holy shit, I cannot believe I used to work with this guy. On the other hand, did that woman default on her payment to this guy to instead hire me…? What’s up with that? Char thought. “Any chance I could convince you to not do that?”
      “Me and forgivin’ debt aren’t exactly synonymous with each other—you understand. But!” He hocked a sick loogie. “But, good memory and me is. Like how I remember you testified in court against me running that pyramid scheme.”
      “Did you even go to prison for that?”
      “Fuck no, but it did cost me beaucoup bucks in legal fees.”
      “Hey, man; It’s gangster code, dude. I walked because of that deal.”
      “You tell ‘em that when you get to hell.”
      “Ah, LADY, GET OUT OF HERE!” Char whipped out his staff, quick drawing it like a cowboy, and pointed its end at one of the Don’s goons, “and you! Please, extend!” The stave answered his command by surging forward in length. The tip slammed into the stomach of goon #1, causing him to drop the briefcase as he flew backward into the alleyway. Straining, Char swung the extended pole into goon #2 faster than he could react. However, Igbo, having clearly been around the block more than his underlings, thoughtlessly ducked the attack.
     Char was torn on whether to cover his employer or focus on the Don, who was the only one left. Meanwhile, Igbo himself undid the locks on the ornate briefcase. Finally, Char made a decision, recalling the staff as he realized that the two goons were down for the count.

---

TWC: 991/500

“See ya, Igbo!” The lad thrust two fingers up into the sky and widened his stance. The wellspring of power that was the ethernano pulsed through his veins and crashed up against the confines of his being. As he listened to the quick footsteps of the woman pitter-patter down the road, her subsequent cries for help, the rage within his body began to calcify into power. His brow furrowed out of concentration. The beginnings of sweat formed on his forehead.
       He slashed his fingers down straight towards the ground, causing three bright motes of light to take form. They floated in the air like scattering embers, keeping their place in time with the wind and only deviating slightly from their original positions.
       “Taste my…” Two of the three balls of light collapsed in on themselves and shot white beams straight at the Don! “… Photon Rage!” They cut through the night like firecrackers as they made their way to their target. First, it’s whatever is in the case. I made it out to be the finisher, but we’ll see if my sussing this out is necessary with this attack.
      There was a sharp click noise. A blast of red energy erupted out from the Don, sliding Char back slightly with its wind pressure alone. The windows of nearby buildings rattled as his beams ricocheted off of the gale’s source. Igbo cackled heartily.
       “Kid…” Char’s eyes widened as the Don stood up from his crouch, fancy gold-encrusted wand in hand. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” He spun it like a revolver before pointing it at his prey. Igbo braced himself with his spare hand just as another burst of energy emerged. His still-lit cigars dropped to the floor and, for a second, everything went silent.
       The dust that had whipped up around him parted to let a ginormous crimson laser cut through. The alleyway itself almost seemed to split in half as it tore through the air, leaving scorched earth in its wake. It was so hot it melted the pavement. Those same windows from before shattered.
       Shit! Char slammed his staff into the ground, screaming: “Please extend, now!” The staff did as it was told, catapulting him straight up, just barely dodging the laser as it snapped back; having completed its mission. Char was airborne for a moment and surveyed the situation. It looked like Igbo thought him erased. He’s a mage, too? Since when? Char’s frown turned upside-down when his gaze caught the one remaining mote of light from his earlier Photon Rage—it was still just floating there. A Witch Flash would work temporarily, but nothings going to stop him from just firing from the hip. I need to beat him in one decisive blow… And I think I know just how to do it!
       Char gently sheathed his staff and smiled worriedly. He was about two stories up, so he understood just how risky his next move was going to be. He drew his broadsword, Groot Rand. It had been a while since he had messed with it—even if it didn’t possess the same magical properties as his staff. An explicitly lethal weapon wasn’t really his style, but there were times like this one that he felt necessitated its presence.
       He used one hand to direct its hilt beside his head, in a sort of coiled position, and the other he put outstretched behind him. I have to time this exactly right… Well, here’s hoping… A loud crackling and popping noise filled the night sky as Char’s palm lit up with fireworks. His spell propelled him straight at Igbo and, once he had his momentum, he grasped the handle of his blade tightly with both hands. His faced scrunched up from hitting such a high velocity. “MASTER EDGE!!!” He screeched with veracity.
      “What!?” Igbo raised his wand to blast Char once again, and it gave off another one of those shockwaves as it rared up.
        Right there! Char let the last of his Photon Rage fly free. The beam of light from the miniature star reamed into the head of the wand, knocking it from Igbo’s hands right as it was about to fire. Char flew right at a newly disarmed Igbo, ending the fight in one solid sword slash straight across his chest.
    The crime lord’s blood splattered across the concrete as Char nearly slammed into it himself, instead managing to smoothly break into a slide using his magic, Glide Raid, in order to barely redirect his speed. He messily slid across the ground, only stopped by a pile of garbage bags that had been laying helplessly against one of the walls of the alleyway. His face was scraped and he was tired, but he was alive. He panted heavily as he surveyed the results of his actions from his throne of tin cans and last night’s dinner.

---

TWC: 1720/500

Char Lig, battered and bruised, sat hunched over the bar top. He was on his second beer of the night, the first bottle of which stood next his current. He tugged at the bandages that wrapped his left bicep and thought about how the doctor had told him he’d be lucky not to get an infection. Antibiotics were too expensive, though, and Char was pretty sure that was a risk he was ready to take a long time ago. The dressing was still stained a little red from a couple of days ago. Luckily, his spill hadn’t done any serious damage to anywhere but there.
       She calls me here and stands me up—just great.
       The door of the bar creaked open, and Char looked up from his drink. The lady from his most recent job sauntered in, electing to greet the bartender as she did. She plunked her ass down next to the lad.
       “So,” she said, smiling, “I really wanted to apologize for being dishonest.”
       Char rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you kind of totally fucked me over.” He put his hand on his forehead and slicked his hair back a little. “Like, seriously.”
       “How bad has it been?”
       “Well, I’m getting arraigned tomorrow here—looks like I’m going to be called to the courts in Era to answer for my crimes.” He sighed dramatically as she put one hand on her hip. “Not just for murder charges, either. The state wants me to answer for dodging a lot of their formal requests for funds…”
       She leaned in but didn’t lower her voice. “You’re guilty of tax evasion? That’s—”
       “Hey—hey!” Char put his hands up. “Keep it down, Rhum; you dumb bitch! Last thing I need is those bastards getting verbal confirmation.” He paused for a moment. “…You’re not wired, right?”
       Rhum looked apologetic. “Oh, no. Sorry.”
       “Good… So, yeah, it’s looking like you’re putting me through quite a lot of trouble.”
       “I’m…” She leaned back for a second before almost tearing up. “… I’m really sorry about all this. I don’t have the money to reimburse you just yet, but—”
      “Instead of just paying the piper, you decided to hire someone in the hopes of taking him out, yeah?” He was matter-of-fact.
       “Y-yes. That’s right…”
       He looked to the side. “Then don’t worry too much about paying me more for it. You didn’t know he was a mage and neither did I.”
       She perked up and her eyes widened. “What!? You really mean that!?”
        “Yup.”
       “But you’re… facing murder charges.”
       “Sure am, you motherfucker.” There was a vindictive flash in his eyes before he regained his dignity. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find a way through it.” He turned his whole body on the stool to face her. “You really had no other option, right?”
      “That’s right. I couldn’t really go to the police because I was dealing with the Don. Even if they wanted him off the streets—”
      “There’s not jack they could’ve done about it with the kinda cash he was packing.”
       “Exactly. Char…”
       “What?”
       “You’re a really good person, you know that?”
      “Hah! No. I think a good person stays away from messes like this. And just because a good person would take it on the chin too does not mean we’re the same type of animal. I’m a different beast entirely.”
       She chuckled. “You knew something was off from the start, didn’t you? Was it something like sympathy that kept you?”
       He smiled a little. “Yeah, something like that. I’ve seen and ripped off a lot of sorry shmucks like you, you know. I don’t regret what I did those few days ago for a second.”
       “Thank you.” Rhum’s old eyes began to leak as they both processed the situation for the first time in the last couple of days. She wiped them, clearly tired.
       “Like I said, don’t mention it.” Char retreated back into himself.
       “Do you have a lawyer?”
       “Heh, hell no.” He crossed his arms onto the counter once again, leaning on it. “I’m just gonna represent myself. They probably wanted Igbo dead and, frankly, it was legitimate self-defense. The tax evasion and some of the other stuff they’re putting me on for is a separate matter, but they’ve yet to corner me on it anyway. I’m not planning on letting them bringing me into court stop me.”
       She stared at him, visibly wistful. “Do… Do you want one?”
       He looked up at her and met her gaze, clearly confused. “You’ve got a recommendation?”
      “More like a pledge.” She gave a gutsy smile. “There was a time when I practiced...”
       “Oooohhh, no, no, no. Sorry—not interested in taking a plus-one with me to fucking court.”
       “I’m serious, okay? You just saved my life in something like five different ways, you dick!”
       “I don’t do companions, you—you weirdo!” He massaged his temples. “There’s matters of board and food and, like—I don’t know—fucking tons of logistical problems. I don’t have the money to take on hobos like you! Besides, you’ve got a life here.”
      “No, I really don’t! I lost all my money gambling—that’s why I took the money from Igbo, too!”
       “Oh, real fucking convincing—She’s a deadbeat!”
       “Listen, you’re the first person to give me hope in however-many-years.” There was a burning passion that permeated her countenance. “I want to start again, even this late.”
      “I’m not a fucking hand-out, you moron. You got a new lease on life—great! Don’t force that on me, though!”
      “It doesn’t have to be a permanent thing—but I still want to help you in court, at the very least.”
      “No deal. Talk to the hand.” He put his hand up.
      “I had zero losses for two decades.”
       Char practically did a backflip. “Excuse me!? Why the fuck did you quit!?”
      “I did criminal defense for people that were innocent, which were less rare than you’d think. There was one case in which I trusted the client like usual… right up until the moment I found out they did it.“ A sad grin crossed her face. “This person was a complete sociopath, I found out. They had spent their whole life playing people… with zero remorse.”
      “And by the time you had figured that out you had already committed?”
      "More than just committed—we were mid-trial. They caused me a lot of stress because they would constantly taunt me about it. They knew I was trying to be headstrong in the face of it. Jokes on them, though, I lost. They’re in jail now.”
      “So, it was either lose and ruin your perfect record or win and live with the shame of having represented someone who didn’t deserve it?”
       “Uh-huh.”
       “Shit…” Char recoiled.
      “I’m off the horse now—for sure. That was a long time ago, but I really think I can at least help you! I did a lot of accounting and I’ve kept renewing my license for officiating documents! I can be like your secretary—I can also pick up work along the way to help pay for things. I don’t want to just mooch.”
       “And what about your bar license?”
       “Well… No, I don’t have that anymore. I haven’t kept up with it.” Rhum looked up, that same passion from before burning from within. “But that doesn’t matter so long as you consent to my representing you. I know I haven’t done a good job of selling you on it… But I really want to care again! I’m tired of running away from feeling things like sadness or anger over it.”

---

TWC: 3068/500

Char breathed in for a second. He leaned further onto the bar, resting his chin on it. There was a deep sorrow that swam in the depths of his eyes and he looked at his reflection on the bottle in front of him. His vision focused on his heterochromia. He felt anger build up inside of him, with undertones of dejection.
      “I’m not… used to having people to travel with.” He sniffled a little.
      “You’re a good person. I promise I can be one too if you give me a shot.”
      He closed his eyes. “I’m so used to being alone…”
      She slammed the side of her fist against the countertop, causing Char to break from his reverie. “Dammit—you have to trust somebody at some point! We’d just be two grifters, man! If my past doesn’t bug you, then yours won’t screw with me, either! Let’s at least be miserable together!”
      He put his face against the bar. “What is it with me and old ladies…?”
      “I’m serious!!!”
      “You know what—fine!” He got up and yelled. “But, if we do this, there’s no more lying between us, okay? I fucking mean that! If you pull anymore shit like what you did with registering that job—I swear to god I will—”
      She waved her hands in an ‘X’ motion. “No more lies. I’m an open book from here on out.” Char turned around and cried, so she waited for a second for him to stop shuddering. Then, she extended an arm. “So, we have a deal?”
      Char slowly turned back to facing her. To him, this offer meant ending a type of suffering he had grown accustomed to over the years. He was so, so tired of subjecting himself to the torture of pre-rejection. So much so that the emotional magnitude of Rhum’s plead struck him much harder than he thought it would. To him, they both seemed very similar—both resigned from society because they didn’t think they were good enough to be a part of it. Both outlaws. She was old, yes, but Rhum clearly still had some life to live. He, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure of his readiness to end the cold war he was fighting against himself.
      Yet, he stirred from his position in his pause and took her hand. He shook.
      “I still have some reservations—”
      “But you’re ready to try.”
      “Y-yeah.”
      “I won’t let you down, boss.” She smiled a warm smile. She was practically beaming.
      Char bawled for a moment. “D-don’t call me that, you bitch.” His cheeks flared up, beet red.
      “I insist. I owe it to you.”
      “I’ve never gotten the chance to order people around. Are you sure?”
      “Absolutely. Let’s both make the most of this.”
      “O-okay. Then…”
      They both spoke at the same time: “Onward to Era!”

---

TWC: 3537/500