Scars of Conflagration

The seconds after Bread had zapped the girl, the mom bit her in the hand. Loud screams and grunts immediately followed, sounding the dormant alarms she had always feared. And Val had to make a difficult decision—to escape.

She ran. Out the window with Bread in her arms.

The heist had failed. Utterly. Never even had the time to find the book she had planned. After all that work, the once-in-a-lifetime chance went down the drain. And it was all because Bread didn’t stay outside! Why couldn’t he do one thing right?

“Bread,” she started. But then she stopped herself. “No, nevermind.” It wasn’t his fault. He was just… young. That was it. He had done as he was told—unlocked the gates and zapped the girl unconscious. Slowly but surely, they made their way back to the gym with nothing but a few disheartened thoughts in hand.

And that was fine. Because there was always a next time.

…

Is that… smoke?

It smelled like ash the closer they got. Dark clouds billowed into the air, shadowing the already gloomy local slums of their neighborhood. It wasn’t industrial smoke; there was no chemical aftertaste. Her steps quickened. The location was worrying. That was way too close to home.

What happened? Was there a fire?

She shuffled through the sparse darkness of her city alleyways, still lugging Bread around her waist like some grocery bag. The dry heat ate at her throat. And when she finally got to a clearing—

A conflagration.

“What the hell?” The gym was burning. Everything was on fire. “Coach?!” she called out.

A lone figure sat on the front steps of the gym, smoking antique cigars out of his mouth. Who’s that? And were those… tears?

“Val?” Bread squeaked out.

This wasn’t the time to speculate. She dropped Bread and all her belongings at the entrance of the alley. Then she knelt down and looked him in the eyes—

“Keep these safe. Don’t. Come out.”

Bread wasn’t watching. His eyes drifted to the inferno.

“Don’t.” She shifted his face back over. “Stay here. Everything’ll be fine.” Then she slowly made her way to the front. To the place she had called home for the last few years…

“Ah, Valerie Briarwood. Here at last.” The man on the steps took off his hat. “Rictor Thorns at your service.”

“Rictor…?” She knew that name from somewhere. That face too. And the hole in his cheek… Shit, the merc! She remembered that face from Gambit Greg’s. It was unmistakable. Shit, shit, shit. What did he want?

“Believed you could get away?”

“I don’t believe in jack shit.” Was he here because of… No, that shouldn’t have been the case. She had left no traces behind. Right?

“I knew I saw that face somewhere. You’ve escaped me two times already.” He brushed off his pants free of soot and grunted his way up to his feet. “Won’t happen again.”

“Did you light the place?” Coach wouldn’t have just let this happen. “Where’s Coach?”

The merc ignored her. “Where’s the mask?”

“Fuck you.” Shit. It was because of that.

“I’m sure he can die any moment now.” He gestured towards the burning gym. “Carbon monoxide poisoning is no joking matter.”

“You bitch.” He was kidding, right? Coach wouldn’t just stay put. Unless… “What did you do?”

“So you became a boxer.” He smoked his cigars one final time before spitting them out on the ashen dirt. “Well, let’s see if that’s true.” He pulled up his hands.

“What did you do to him?!”

“Like I’d really answer that.”

“Move.” She took a step towards the gym, but he mirrored her.

“Make me.” He motioned for her to attack. “C’mon. A pro boxer can’t even take on a bounty hunter?” He smirked. “No guns, no knives. Just these raw, cyber-enhanced fists. Then we’ll see if you’re really any better.”

“Bitch…”

…

It was a slogfest.

She should’ve gotten her eye fixed already. The moment he realized her left eye was completely inoperable, he started to attack through her blind spots. She couldn’t dodge anything. She couldn’t even see where it was coming from.

Fuck!

It was so frustrating! He was small fry! If she had her eye fixed by now, he wouldn’t even have time to react. He’d be on the floor, knocked out cold! She swore if he’d done anything to Coach… No, don’t think about that now.

Ego. She had to rid herself of her ego. Just like what Coach had told her before. She took a deep breath. Calm down, shake it off. One eye or two, it didn’t matter. She had to win. Fight until her dying breath. Small fry or not, everything was a threat. Be cautious but not nervous…

The merc rushed in again. He ducked to her left.

This time, she predicted his moves. She swung without hesitation. Imagined his face at the level of her chest. And with a hard thwack—

“Ah!” The merc came back into view. “Motherfucker!” His nose was bleeding profusely.

A wide grin spread across the face. Coach, I did it. Just like how you taught me. She swiftly backed up and positioned for the next barrage of punches.

“You’re dead.” The merc suddenly pulled out a gun. Then as if time had slowed, his arms slowly shifted up.

Shit. Her eye grew wide. She could tell what he was going to do. Just like before… But she couldn’t move. She was exhausted. She could see it coming, but she couldn’t move.

Move.

Her joints locked. Her legs didn’t listen. Just like before…

Fuck. Move!

Suddenly, her body jolted forward. As if her limbs had finally stirred from their slumber. He was just a few feet away. She’d hit the gun away before he shot it. She’d make it in time!

Just a little further… Her arms reached out; her muscles strained. Just a bit more… The gun was there, still climbing with his hand. But it was getting closer to her head. It passed her stomach, now it was just below her heart…

No, was she not going to make it?

Her hand was still out of reach. A smile started to spread across the merc’s face. The gun was almost to her neck; it was still ascending, inching ever so closer. No… She wasn’t going to make it. She saw his finger on the trigger, the pressure pulling the metal piece back. It was aimed at her forehead. It was going to fire. It was—

“No!”