I woke up and stretched. I checked my clock. 5:15 AM. I had plenty of time to do my morning routine before the rest of my eight siblings and my parents woke up. You’re probably asking why I wake up this early during the summer since I was only seventeen and had no job other than a part time job as a prep cook at a local restaurant.
I woke up early to train. Ever since I could remember weapons had fascinated me. Not just their use in battles that had shaped history. Not even the diverse shapes and forms weapons could take. I trained because in training myself I found peace. I longed for battle to test my mettle. But given the modern world that was unlikely to happen since most battles were fought with words by otherwise useless politicians or guns held by soldiers and mercenaries.
Because of this I had, ever since I was ten, been forging bladed weapons. Making bows and arrows. And training with them twice a day for an hour each time. Once in the morning before my family woke up. And once in the evening before I went to bed. My parents didn’t approve. But I had long ago giving up caring what they thought. I was who I was, and my training was a part of me. They could never take it away.
Almost an hour later found me at the end of my training holding a co2 airsoft pistol and aiming at a lightbulb swinging from a pole. I squeezed the trigger and the gun gave a slight kick in my hands. I watched as the lightbulb shattered. It’d been a while since I’d done this because we went through so few lightbulbs and I didn’t have the money to waste on buying ones just to shoot.
I put away the two dozen or so weapons I had taken out. Locking a bow and the airsoft pistol in a metal cabinet with a few other bows and a half dozen airsoft guns. Some of which were only a few fps short of being a firearm.
I looked around the shed my parents had let me convert into an armoury. Lining the walls were all kinds of bladed weapons. Hanging from the peaked roof was a weapon that had probably never even been thought of as a feasible weapon even though I’d gotten the concept of it from Star Wars and then had practiced with it until I could use it perfectly.
I left the shed. Locking the door behind me. After lunch had passed and I was debating whether or not to go on BRYZ my phone started ringing.
I fished it out of my pocket and answered.
"Hello?" (I don't have caller I.D. so it's always a mystery as to who calls.)
"Hey Tim, What's up?"
"Not too much, Matt," I said as I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. My friend, Matthew Hebert. Pronounced He-Bear, if you say Herbert he would talk you to death about it. I'd done that once just to fall asleep.
"You good to come into town?" asked Matt. "There's something going on that I need to tell you and Seb about."
"I'm good," I said. "Meet at the mall?"
"Yep," said Matt. "And bring your N-Life."
"Ok," I replied. "I'll see you soon."
"Ok," said Matt and hung up.
I headed upstairs to my room and grabbed my slightly battered N-Life off its spot on my shelf which it shared with various figurines and books ranging from Manga to adventure novels to books on how to survive the economic collapse.
I threw the N-Life, my laptop, and my vape into the backpack. Then I changed out of my training clothes into jeans, a t-shirt and a black hoodie. Then I headed downstairs and back outside to where my car was sitting the driveway.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
