Chapter 54:

Blackjack Brimstone, The G.O.A.T.

(Outdated) Simular Beings


Coach’s funeral went smoothly. Val didn’t know if that was a good thing. From what little money she could scrape up selling that rare century bracelet she had stolen, she used it all on restoring the gym and buying the casket.

Then they held a private funeral. Just the two of them—her and Bread.

She never expected to officiate a funeral so soon. Actually, she never expected it even once. It always felt like she was the one most in danger—out in the open thieving around rich neighborhoods. She thought she was going to leave this earth first before anybody else had a say in the matter. But that prediction obviously hadn’t come to pass.

After having dug out a large enough hole in their gym’s backyard, she had—as gently as possible—set the casket down beneath the surface of all that rough, arid soil. And before she completely covered it back up, she dropped a few pieces of beef jerky over the casket. It felt fitting. Bread, on the other hand, delicately dropped a single stem of a common flower—a dried dandelion the size of his palm.

A few shovels of grunt work, and she was done. She used one of his favorite, and most prized possessions as the headstone—a beautifully crafted and modified cybernetic torso piece that was still leftover from his personal collection. Parts of the exterior were covered in soot, but most of it was still clean and intact.

In the center of the piece, she engraved a short, little epitaph—Jack Brimstone. A fire that burned brighter than lightning.

They didn’t talk for days—her and Bread. Was it because they had nothing to talk about? Or was it just because of what had happened these past few days?

Everything felt empty. Nothing was fun. Nothing was ever interesting like before. Bread did his own thing, adventuring out into the unknowns of who knows where. But for her, nothing felt the same. Life felt more like a shell of its former self.

She had always boxed in the morning. It was her routine. Just a way to reset the day and start fresh. But today, she didn’t feel like doing anything. Plus, all the boxing equipment was either broken or burnt to a crisp. She didn’t really have an option. At least, that was her excuse she kept telling herself.

Running was still an option. And yet, she still didn’t run.

What did it matter anyways? She was partly fighting for Coach. Without him, there was no more reason for her to keep going. Family? Her old family was gone. Her brother? She didn’t even know if he was still alive. All that was left was just her and Coach. And now, just Bread…

But one day, Bread brought in a sand bag. He had stitched it back together all by himself. “It's a present,” he’d said. Patched leather held taut in a more traditional, junkyard fashion. It was singed at the ends from the fire, but it kept together surprisingly well. He definitely had a knack for doing things he’d never done before. But geez, what was he thinking?

“I want you to have it.” He beamed this satisfied grin like he’d done something absolutely amazing. And really, he did. It was amazing. 

“Wow…” She smiled for the first time in a while. “I don’t even have gloves for this.”

“I’ll get you one!”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I’ll find you some soon!”

She hooked the bag up to the ceiling and got to work. She’d have to get back into the rhythm of things if she were to fight in the ring again. Because she wasn’t a thief. Bread knew. And Coach had always known too.

She was a boxer. Through and through.

One, three, one, one…

She crushed the half-charred punching bag with her bare fists. Her original boxing gloves and hand wraps were gone. Already burnt up during the fire.

Two, three, slip, three…

At this point, any eye would’ve done the trick. She shouldn’t have tried to save all that money just to get an equivalent replacement for her broken Prototype Razen. She still had one left. It wasn’t like she needed two high-tech eyes to compete. All she really needed was sight on both sides. Just one eye for the complicated calculations and another one for basic eye shit. And honestly, she was kind of getting used to her single eye. It was disorienting at first, but the more time had passed, the more it felt natural for her.

Maybe Bread was right. She could still fight.

She had also stopped with the thieving altogether. They were only managing on leftovers, but Bread wasn’t cut out for that kind of career. She had to adapt. Throw away that ego and live the way she had always dreamed of living. Back to boxing. Back to square one. She’d make it work. She always did. 

Two!

The punching bag exploded. Burst into bits of leather and sand. Shit. That was the only one left. If only she had someone… to hold the mitts…

“Val?”

Bread. She held the thoughts back.

“Here.” He handed her a glass of water.

“Thanks.” She washed it all down—her sorrows, all her ordeals… “I think we need another one.”

“Yup.”

“Bread…” She felt bad. Hadn’t she promised him she’d take him to the beach? “I’m sorry.” She hadn’t really given him a life worth living for. Not yet at least. Bread wasn’t some kind of convenient tool she could use whenever she wanted. He was alive and kicking with a nasty ass attitude, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She didn’t want to hold him back any longer.

He needed to find his own life.

“Why?”

“If you have something you want to do, do it.” She wouldn’t lead him down the same path she’d taken. Coach wouldn’t have wanted that. “I won’t stop you.”

“Something I want?”

“Whatever you want.” She smirked. Watching his eyes twinkle with hope reminded her of her own childhood. “I’m done stealing. You don’t have to keep forcing yourself to come along.” Unlike her parents, she’d support Bread with all she’d got.

After a long silence, he finally nodded.

There was a spark in his eyes. Just like before. Maybe Coach really was right. Maybe he’d make a better boxer than her…

Coach. She peered out the window up towards the halcyon, morning sky. I hope you’re still watching. I’ll make it work. We’ll make it work. For sure. And someday, she’d meet him. Someday far into the future.

Hopefully by then, she could be proud of what she had achieved.