Chapter 43: A Cough (Patreon)

Ash stared at Jason with a mild mix of anger and confusion.

“What the hell did you just say?” she asked.

The entire team was at her place except Zed, knackered from the stress of the day. They’d just returned from a particularly nasty monster hunt and had taken a break to shower and get the muck off themselves. Then they met back at her place where Jason dropped the bombshell of inhumanity.

“I said…” Jason began only to have her cut him off.

“I heard what you said,” she spat, “I just wanted to know if you had the conscience to repeat it.”

“It’s not a totally horrible idea,” Jason returned. “Give me a little support over here, Chris.”

“Nope,” Chris said. She was seated on the long couch, her feet pushing against Oliver’s shoulder. “Not ready to get into that.”

Oliver sat on the other end of the couch, swaying with each shove of her leg. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it.

“It’s a good plan, Ash,” Jason said.

“I don’t think it isn’t,” Ash said. “I just think it’s inhumane. If you haven’t noticed, we haven’t been the nicest people to Zed and I’ve said nothing about it because I felt it was important to allow you learn what you wanted to learn but this is not about learning anything, it’s about using another human being. Zed isn’t some expendable tool you get to use and discard whenever you please.”

“I didn’t propose the plan.”

“But you didn’t oppose it when Heimdall told you, did you?”

Jason rubbed an exasperated hand down his face.

“He wasn’t bunny hopping for my opinion,” he said. “He was giving me an order.”

“A stupid order,” Ash shot back. “And as a reasonable person you should’ve said no. You could’ve at least hesitated.”

“And who said I didn’t hesi—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You took your orders like a good little boy and skedaddled out of there. No one in this room believes anything but that happened.”

“Really?” Jason asked with a frown, throwing the question to the room. “You all think I’m that low?”

“No,” Oliver said. “Personally, I think you’re an amazing guy. But you’re kind of intentionally mute when it comes to Heimdall. It’s like you’ll die to save the world but just as easily turn around and burn it to the core if Heimdall asked. I think he’s a bad influence on you.”

“For fuck’s sake, guys,” Jason frowned. “He’s our boss.”

Chris raised a delicate hand up. “Not mine,” she said. “I just hang out here for the food and water.”

Oliver quirked a brow at her. “And the housing?”

She shrugged. “I’ve slept in far worse places. It’s not as bad as you might think.”

A moment of quiet followed after that.

“What?” she asked. “Sleeping out in the open isn’t that bad. At least there’s the breeze and the flies don’t bother you. It’s really not that bad.”

“Moving on,” Ash said, drawing their attention from Chris’ ludicrous statement. “Did you even ask yourself what Zed might think?”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked. “He has no problem fighting monsters. He’ll be glad to face them.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Oliver said, somber.

“What do you mean?” Jason asked him.

“You haven’t seen him much since our run in with the Olympian.”

“I don’t get it.”

“He almost died, Jason.”

“We,” Jason said, gesturing between them, “almost died.”

“Not really,” Chris disagreed. “Zed and Ash almost died. The rest of us just got our asses handed to us.”

“I did alright,” Ash said.

“See.” Jason pointed at Ash. “She did alright. Everyone knows how strong Olympians are. Zed’s fine.”

“He’s really not,” Ash said.

“And why do you say that?”

“He has nightmares.”

“Good old comedian, Bloodbath, has nightmares?” Chris asked, surprised. “I thought he only dreamt of drunk clowns and funny videos. And why would he be that bothered by being beaten by an Olympian? Everyone knows they aren’t the kind of people you can win against easily. Next thing you’ll tell me is that he thinks he should be able to stand against a Renegade.”

“But you’re getting something wrong,” Oliver said.

“And what’s that?”

“Zed doesn’t have much memories of his life after the second awakening. I’ll wager he has none. Haven’t you noticed the only bits of memory he displays ever getting are from before the apocalypse? I’m ready to bet we ask him how long ago its been since the second Awakening or where he was after it, or anything at all, and he flunks it.”

“So he feels like he lost horribly against some random robot when he was supposed to win?”

“Yes,” Oliver said. “I’m ready to bet Jason’s the strongest person he knows and he hasn’t even seen Jason go all out. Imagine almost dying from just being pushed. That might be the reason for the nightmares: the fact that he could die without knowing.”

Jason sighed.

“He’s still got to do it,” he said.

“So, what?” Ash scowled. “He’s opinion doesn’t count?”

“We’re talking about mana stones here, Ash,” Jason said, wondering why she was refusing to understand. “Mana stones. And maybe a chance at ranked weapons, if you’re right.”

“He’s not a fucking gumball machine. You don’t get to just push a button whenever you want and get gifts.”

“I never said he was.”

“Then get his opinion first before you send him off to see what he can get from killing a Rukh monster.”

“He won’t be fighting it alone, Ash.”

“Really?” she asked with a flat stare. “Or did you miss out on the part where he has to kill it for his spellform to work.”

“Killing it isn’t the same as fighting it,” Jason said. “We could weaken it and let him deal the last blow. It might work.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

Jason was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” he said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll just have to find another way.”

Ash opened her mouth, another argument on her lips when the sound of the door opening silenced her.

“That’s Zed,” Oliver said. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Zed walked into view with a downtrodden face and slumped shoulders. He looked worse than they had been on their worst monster hunt when they’d all had their asses handed to them and had had to flee the monsters.

“You good, dude?” Oliver asked.

Zed’s response was an illegible groan. He stood in front of them, his clothes of a simple brown shirt and blue pants stained in spots of dirt and a few bits of splintered wood. His red hair usually held up in a hobo’s bun or a ponytail, depending on his level of laziness, fell messily about his face.

“What the hell is Ivan teaching you?” Chris asked, laughing.

Zed shot her a baleful glare that did nothing. He couldn’t hold it for long and it fell away in record time.

“I’ll be in your room,” he told Oliver instead. “If anybody needs me… don’t.”

He headed towards the stairs when Jason stopped him.

“Zed,” Jason called.

The only sign that Zed knew what was happening was that he turned to look at Jason. His eyes looked empty but he remained standing, waiting.

“What do you say we find sometime and go hunt a Rukh monster?” Jason said slowly.

Zed stared emptily for a few seconds then shrugged. He turned back to the stairs with a zombie’s efficiency then paused. He seemed to sharpen for a moment, staring at nothing for a while before he groaned loudly.

“For fuck sake!” he complained. “How is that even justified?!”

He turned around, vigor restored like a burst of adrenaline, and pointed an accusing finger at Jason.

“This is all your fault!” he snapped. “You just had to open your big mouth! Arrrrgh!!!”

He heaved slowly, calmness returning like winter’s cold, then he slumped, resigned, as if suddenly giving up again.

“I’ll be in Oliver’s room,” he muttered, dragging himself up the stairs.

Jason turned to Ash.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“No idea,” she said.

Jason shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s settled then.”

“Did you guys see that, though?” Chris asked.

“Yea,” Jason said. “Ivan’s really putting him to work.”

“Yes,” Chris said. “But not that. I’m talking about the thing he did at the end where he was just staring at nothing.”

“He does that a lot,” Oliver said. “He used to do that at the end of our runs when we first started, without the groaning, obviously. Not anymore, though.”

“And you don’t find it odd?”

“You’re a cute five-foot-ten-inch girl who looks nice but is actually mean,” Oliver said. “And you carry a club like a medieval cave man. I don’t think you get to talk about odd.”

“He’s got a point there,” Jason said. “But how do you explain his fingers?”

“What about them?” Oliver asked.

“They were shaking.”

“They were, weren’t they,” Oliver said. “Not entirely sure why, but it happens when he’s not paying attention. Usually when his mind is somewhere else.”

Ash thought about Zed’s fingers and remembered something she’d seen a couple of times. It wasn’t that his fingers were shaking, instead, trembling was a better word. And it was just the two; the index finger on both hands.

“I think I can explain that one,” she said.

Oliver turned to her, surprised. “You can?”

“Yea. Every now and then, when I see him, he’s always practicing runes. Or at least I think they are runes. He’s always drawing them in the air or on the ground or on his pants. There’s nothing there, really, just empty gestures with no actual casting. He’s pretty much always making shapes with his fingers.”

“That’s some level of dedication,” Jason mused. “Festus must be impressed. Anyway, I’ve asked him and he agreed. Is that humane enough for you now, Ash?”

Ash grumbled but didn’t say anything. All she needed to do was wait. Something told her giving Zed the last hit wouldn’t work. After all, this wasn’t one of those video games Oliver used to play where killing a monster gave experience points.

…………………………………..

Zed’s smile was wide enough to be considered mischievous. He stretched confidently, a hand over an elbow, pulling and reaching like a runner or a gymnast. He wasn’t sure if gymnasts stretched. His memories had no stretching gymnast in them. But everyone stretched, right? He was a mana powered mage and he still enjoyed a good stretch every now and then.

“What’s got you smiling?” Ivan asked.

“Well,” Zed dragged the word out menacingly. “Today’s the day I finally get to counter attack.”

“I never said you were supposed to counter attack,” Ivan pointed out. “Only that you were supposed to learn how to fall.”

“I’d say I’ve learnt it well enough,” Zed said. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Would I?”

Zed sighed, held out both arms to his side and fell back. His body hit the ground, and despite how uneven it was, the sound of his body falling was even and singular. He was already on his feet, faster than it took the sound to finish its journey through the building and back to them.

“A unique fall with evenly distributed points of contact,” he explained. “I believe those were your descriptions of falling just right during a free fall. Or would you like to hear what how a fall from a throw soun—”

Ivan was already throwing Zed before his sentence was complete.

Zed’s body aligned itself in the air, adjusting and taking into account how he fell. When he hit the ground, the sound was less even but the pain was far below what Zed had felt in their earlier days. His body distributed his landing, his equilibrium attribute keeping his body balanced so that it distributed the damage from the fall for minimum impact.

Zed rolled out of reach and slipped back onto his feet.

“Okay, that was uncalled f—”

Ivan threw him again and he hit the ground, his body coming up quickly and jerkily.

“For fuck sake—”

Ivan threw him again.

“Will you stop that!” Zed snapped.

Ivan was already in front of him.

Zed hit the ground again and remained there, quiet.

Ivan stood above him, staring down at him in confusion.

“Did your attribute fail?” he asked.

Zed shook his head. “Nope.”

“Then why didn’t you get up?”

Zed shrugged. “I figured it’s better for me down here. You can’t throw what’s already been thrown. I think I’ll just stay here and meditate on what it means to fall while you catch your breath and deal with your current anger issues. I swear this town needs an anger management therapist.”

“I can’t throw what’s already been thrown?” Ivan asked in his easy baritone.

“No,” Zed said, looking at him suspiciously. “I don’t like the tone in your voice.”

“What tone?” Ivan smirked.

“It’s the tone people get when they think they’ve been issued a challenge,” Zed panicked. “Ivan, you haven’t been issued a challenge, nobody issues Chuck Norris a challenge. If anything, challenges are issued Chuck Norrises.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not Chuck Norris.”

“No,” Zed pleaded as Ivan bent down and grabbed him by the shirt. “Please don’t.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ivan said. “You regenerate.”

Then he picked Zed off the floor and threw him.

“That justifies NOTHING!” Zed screamed as he flew into the bleachers.

He went through the wooden chairs like a main character from a western comic during a fight against a powerful adversary. Each bench succumbed under the weight of him and he shattered them like a bowling ball through brittle wood.

He came to a stop against the wall, his back bashing into it rather forcefully and he heard a sharp and deep crack. Zed could only hope it wasn’t his.

In front of him, Ivan shrugged his way through the rubble of broken bleachers.

“What did you say when you were flying?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Zed coughed.

“You sure?” Ivan asked, testily. “It sounded like you thought I needed some kind of justification.”

Zed shook his head warily as his injuries healed slowly. “I assure you it was nothing.”

“But I heard a sound.”

“Just a cough,” Zed assured him. “I was just coughing.”

Ivan was smiling now, and he took another step forward. “Sounded like you were saying something to me.”

“Nope,” Zed shook his head. “Just a cough, I assure you. Sometimes my cough sounds like a conversation.”

Ivan stopped, surprised. Then he laughed. It was a hearty one that came from his stomach, unadulterated and full.

It was the first time Zed was ever hearing the man laugh. It gave him the tiniest bit of satisfaction to know he could make the stoic disciplinarian laugh.

Zed’s mana was filling his body, healing his injuries where he sat against the wall. He could feel his mana reserves slowly dwindling. The attribute was a good one but its consumption of mana without permission was annoying. Then again, he had already learnt how to actively stop it, so that was a good thing.

“Alright, kiddo,” Ivan said, squatting in front of him. “I’ll give you that one. You officially hold the title for the stupidest shit I’ve heard. Funniest, too.”

“Thank you,” Zed groaned.

“That’s not the take away,” Ivan said, reaching for Zed’s leg. “Pay more attention to the stupidest part.”

Zed looked down at his leg and found a metal rod protruding from his thigh. He looked back up at Ivan as the man’s hand wrapped around the rod.

“You have got to be—FUCKING HELL!” he roared as the rod came free with a geyser of blood.

Zed glared at a smirking Ivan.

“You couldn’t go one, two, three or something?” he asked balefully.

“Wouldn’t have made a difference.” Ivan shrugged, getting back up.

He stared at Zed thoughtfully, his eyes running up to stare at the wall. His face took on a characteristic frown and Zed wondered what he was looking at.

“We’re going to need to get that fixed,” Ivan said.

Zed pushed himself away from the wall. He would’ve liked to stand but his leg would need some time to heal, it would be a few minutes before he could do that. So he shuffled away from the wall and stared at it still seated on the ground. The sight reminded him of a comic book’s superhero fight scene.

The wall had a crater where he’d been thrown into it, and spider web cracks spread out from it to reach all over the wall.

Zed looked up at Ivan.

“Have something to say?” Ivan asked.

“Not at all,” he answered.

“You sure?” Ivan asked. “You look like you’ve got something stuck in your throat that you really have to let out.”

Zed shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “I think it’s just a cough.”