Chapter 11: Ergophobia
I hate work. I hate training. I hate doing anything at all. I hate being here. I hate existing.
But eh. Whatever makes that bank.
I pant, my body slumped over in the boxing ring as I wipe off a drop of sweat crawling down from my forehead to my cheek. "Are we done yet?" My chest lifts and falls in a slow pace as I glare at Lola who didn't seem too tired.
"Almost! Something just doesn't feel too right..." Her words trail off in her answer.
Looking over at the clock on the wall behind me, the hands look a bit blurry because of the sweat traveling around my eyes. Is the hour one on the 3? Or wait, is that 4? Either or I'm pretty sure we've been here for a while. Fuck I wish I was better at keeping track of time. All of my limbs felt like they were about to give out. I lean back on the ropes of the boxing ring as I sigh in annoyance.
"The fuck you mean something doesn't feel right? I know what doesn't feel right! The fact that I'm probably going to be sore as fuck tomorrow with all of this! Ever thought of that?" My right hand reaches over and grabs a white towel that was already fairly drenched in sweat and places it behind my neck.
"Oh!" Lola blurted. "That's it!" Her face lights up.
"What? Have you finally realized this is stupid?"
"Huh? Of course not, Miss Grumpy Pants! I just realized what was wrong with how you fight." She rolls her shoulder and grabs a plastic water bottle before walking over to my side of the ring.
"So, in short, you're... not too great at it." She gives me a supportive smile as she underhand throws the bottle to me.
"Tell me something I don't know." I catch the bottle, that weird cold dampness surrounding it almost soothing me. Almost.
"Well, to be more specific, you just can't land hits. And even if you do, they don't have that huge of an impact. You're amazing at redirects and counters though! Using your elbows to counter my kicks is really smart! Really hurts too." One of her hands come up to her face and lifts the bangs from her forehead.
"I'm not good with my fists cuz guns exist, genius." Unscrewing the cap off the bottle, I let out an exhale before taking a long drink from it.
"Yeah, but you're not too great at shooting them, are you?"
"Fuck. Got me there." I cap up the bottle again and put it down at my feet. "So what are you getting at?"
"Well, why not use your guns as your fists? Since you're already good at dodging and countering, add some of that lethality you spoke of into it. They can sting pretty hard if you hit someone with the barrel too. I think it's a nice finishing touch to how you should fight! Who knows? Maybe you can add that weird gun spinning thing you do all the time into it." She explains quickly yet clearly. Y'know this girl always manages to confuse me more and more I talk to her. I guess everyone has some sort of odd hyper-fixation.
"That's stupid." I say blatantly. "Now if you excuse me, I'm gonna go take a nice cold shower and bed rot for the rest of the day. I'm way too exhausted for this shit right now." Lifting the edge of the towel over my neck, I wipe my left cheek drenched in sweat and begin to make my way off the boxing ring.
"Well, good luck with your mission tomorrow! At least consider what I said, okay?" I hear Lola behind me, unable to see her face yet able to listen to her obvious smile as she talked.
The automatic doors leading out of the training center opens before me. The thing is, they opened a little bit more earlier than expected. I lock eyes with the person in front of me before letting out a long groan. Like long long.
"Uuuuuuuuuughhhhh." I wince and tilt my head back. "Uuuuuuuuuughhhhh!" I close my eyes and face the floor.
"No whining. Come with for mission brief." Pavul grumbles before stepping to the side to give me room to walk out into the hallway.
"I don't wanna!" Lifting my head to the ceiling, I stomp my foot on the ground. You're kidding me, right?! I just got done breaking and destroying and brutalizing every single sweat I have and now I have to listen in on a mission debrief? I wanted to spend my day relaxing, not worrying about something important!
"Come now, Wulf. Is important." See what I mean?! It's like he's in my head or something!
"Fuck no! Nada! No way, José! Absolutely not, you big bastard! I'm going back to my room, and I'm gonna take a nice cold fucking shower!" I yell at my boss then turn away from the direction he pointed in.
He sighs. "I knew things would come to this... You leave no choice for me." Suddenly, I feel him grab my my hood and tug at it, pulling me off balance and slumped back. The hell?! Then this freak has the audacity to drag me with only my feet on the ground!
"LET ME GO!" I swat at his arm but instantly wince in pain. Fuck! I always forget how hard his skin is!
"If this is only way to force you, then so be it!" Pavul yells, his voice echoing through the hall as I try to pry his fingers off but having no luck at all.
"Maybe if you weren't such a shit leader, I'd comply every once in a while! But NO! And maybe if you weren't such a shit leader, your other squad members would be here so I wouldn't have to be!" I feel my body swing to the side before my back makes contact with the wall.
"Fuck! What's your deal?!" I yell. Staring him down, as he holds my hoodie by the collar, I get that feeling again. Bloodlust. Maybe it's because I've already felt it once, but this didn't feel as strong as when I felt it with Lola. But even so, it was a little different? It felt... unsure?
Looking past the blurry vision and smell of ash, I get a good look on Pavul's face. His grip tightened as his teeth gnashed together and lips curved down to form a frown.
"Oh, what? You're gonna kill me? Do it, pussy! Do it like you said you would if I got out of line! I bet that's what happened to all of those sorry fucks that had the misfortune of working under your ass!" My balled up hands strike his arms as my legs kicked back and forth, my shoes creating grey marks on his vest.
Pavul raises his other fist and aims it directly at me. I can't believe I have to deal with this guy's shit! After I die, I'll have to find some way to avoid him!
He punches and I close my eyes. This should be quick... Um. The fuck? Why is this shit taking so long? And why haven't I been hurt yet?
I open one eye to find myself perfectly fine, Pavul's arm was extended as well. My head turns to where his punch made contact, his fist buried in the wall like a pencil stabbing through paper. As I was looking over, the grasp on my hood gets release, allowing my feet to touch the ground.
Huh?
I raise an eyebrow at him. That feeling of bloodlust was completely gone. Adding to that, he didn't look angry but he was still frowning.
"Vivian. Please." He says with a sigh as he shakes his head. The guy has never used my name before. Does he seriously think saying it will make me magically follow him? Hell nah!
"What must I give you so you can comply?" Pavul pulls his hand back, a few pieces of rubble falling out of the wall and landing on the floor. His fingers slowly release, not surprisingly showing no signs of injury.
I think for a second. What do I want? I guess I never really considered that before. Now that I think about it, have I ever wanted anything? Okay guys, sorry about all of this, I'm actually like, really oddly taken aback by this.
What do I want? It feels like such a simple question, but I just don't have an answer for it. Everyone that I've known have just, well, given me stuff for the proper occasion like a birthday or whatever. But I don't think I've ever asked for anything.
I never knew what I wanted, but you know who did? Ellie. Y'know, Ellie! My friend that died all that time ago in that shooting that brought me here in the first place.
...
I guess that's what I want. Or, who I want back at least. I know that's impossible though. Believe me, I tried. I tried going back, but I just, couldn't. I couldn't. That's all that mattered though, right? I tried.
But I couldn't.
In the end, what's the difference between "I tried" and "I couldn't?" That's some optimist versus pessimist shit, huh? Guess I'm the pessimist.
Anyways, putting that whole mess aside, what can I get from this? Money? Eh. Uh. What else is on my plate? Shit! I really can't think of anything else! This is actually getting me fucking pissed now! FUCK! Why can't I think of anything?! I'm fucking fuming! Oh wait.
Holy shit! You know those moments when a cartoon character gets a lightbulb above their head? That's me right now, but like, imagine the light bulb is on steroids and my brain is continuously expanding.
"Let me kill him." I say with a straight face looking up at him.
He blinks and raises an eyebrow, more confused at my answer than relieved that I did. "Who?"
"That piece of shit who's making me attend this brief or whatever!"
He points at himself.
"The fuck? No! That skinny ass, basement dwelling, patient zero virgin, source of all things degenerate, homunculus shrimp, Cyrus Li! I'm putting a bullet in his head the first moment I get! And this isn't something I want! This is something that I have to fucking do for some reason so I can actually get a day of rest from this shit show circus, because god forbid me and strike me down with every single lightning bolt stored up in those clouds I get to sit around on my bed, fuck off, and do absolutely nothing at all, because I have been worked down to the very bone, every single fucking day ever since I got hired to kill people for a living, but the one fuckstick excuse of a human being that I truly want dead is stroking his shit, giggling while playing some gooner ass dating sim, and waiting for us to find him, and I cannot wait for that guy to give my pistol a blowjob just for it to explode and shoot its fat load of lead inside his mouth and blow his brains out from the back!"
I gulp then pant, trying to catch my breath. We both stare at each other, an uncomfortable amount of silence taking over the corridor like a calm after the storm.
"You have my word."
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