"You will never understand the love of family, or any love for that matter."
-Heard by a wizened old man on number 822.
Green walked out of the Hollow with around three-hundred men. Many were injured—Green included—but some came out unscathed. A rare few hadn't come out at all. Not unless there was one or two men carrying a lifeless body.
The man Green had killed was being carried by six. You didn't kill him, Green told himself, he caused his own death. But just as before, the rationale felt hollow.
Yes, he hadn't fired a bullet or swung a blade. But he did frighten the man, he did kick him mid fall. Could I have saved him, Green wondered, hand still gripping the pistol he was given. If I had used my powers without restraint, could I have saved him?
Green's jaw tightened. He had made a vow two years before, a vow that he would forget who he was. A vow to never touch the power he'd been cursed with. I touched it before, Green thought, when I saved Carrie's life. Green stopped walking, forcing others to step aside. Most gave him a wide berth; others simply ignored him.
He looked up at the grey sky. It wasn't raining, but the clouds had gathered with clear intention. Why did I break my vow for her? Green questioned. Why would I risk everything for her? I do not know nor care about her. Green felt a pain in his chest when the thought occurred.
"Ah flames," Green whispered to himself. He knew the emotion better than any, "I'm getting attached, what is wrong with me?"
He knew the repercussions, he knew the result in caring for someone. Green reached around his belt for his knife, his hand only grabbed empty air however. So he squatted down—sitting on his heels—then began to gnaw at his arm.
The few men who saw turned away in disgust. Green didn't care. He continued his work until blood flowed continuously from his arm. When finished, he stood up, spit out whatever he collected in his mouth, then continued his walk.
Green turned in his pouch of stones, two-hundred exactly. With the red team the victor, Green had managed to pass on his own.
"Excuse me."
Green looked up to the old man who called, he was the same one that spoke before the competition.
Green had to admit the man was impressive. Despite his white hair and the few wrinkles on his face, the old man was tall and muscular. He kept a straight back and a firm poster.
They locked eyes, though he was a good half foot taller than Green. His glasses hid his eyes, but his emotions wouldn't have been read anyway. Though now was not the time for a conversation. Every time he found himself in this particular mood, he tended to say things that many would see as a threat.
"Yes," Green replied, trying to keep his words short.
"One of our scouts saw you and another man fall from the fourth floor." The old man said, his voice deep and commanding. "Some claimed you survived by kicking off the man, assuring his death in order to save your own life. Tell me, is this true?"
Green was going to speak, but decided against it. This man was an officer of the law. If Green made any claims, he'd be thrown in jail at the very least.
So Green didn't speak, he simply held the officers' gaze. The old man's grip tightened, but otherwise he kept his composure. He's angry, Green thought, he knew the man that I… that fell with me?
"Here is your advancement card sir." Green and the old man looked at the employee that spoke.
He had set a card on the desk for Green to take. Green looked at the card, then back at the officer. The old man sighed.
"Sorry to bother you sir," the old man finally said, stepping away.
Green's shoulders relaxed, and he stepped away only to find Mark, Grace, and Carrie waving to him. Carrie's wave was particularly enthusiastic and she put her hands around her mouth to shout something.
"Take care!" Carrie shouted. "Keep an eye out and remember to win this thing ok!?"
Green gave them a short wave of the hand and continued on his way to the next competition—Carrie's voice echoing in his mind. Her voice was sweet, as it had been on the first day they'd met.
It had only been nine weeks since then, but it felt like so much longer. Nevertheless her enthusiasm was infectious and Green felt a string pulling him towards her. He shook his head.
He would cut it.
"Take care!" Carrie shouted. "Keep an eye out and remember to win this thing ok!?"
Mark, Grace, and Carrie had all waved when they spotted Green stepping away from an old man. So Green had entered the competition. That was good. The boy was stiffer than any Mark had ever seen.
Mark smiled when he noticed how enthusiastic Carrie's wave was towards Green. That smile felt like a slight betrayal to Green however.
Mark knew how Green felt about attachments, but a part of him thought it would be better to let him experience a connection. Though more like a parent and a child than an actual partnership, Green would benefit from it.
He looked down at Grace and his smile widened. A connection as valuable as the one he had with Grace would surely help the man ground himself—instead of relying on a vow that could break more easily.
He'd already broken it, hadn't he? Mark wondered. Carrie had told them about how amazing Green was in the forest. How he fought and killed the Septaroth, how he'd saved them from the Pteranodons, and how he'd brought back Vicky's husband from the forest. How kind and considerate he was.
Carrie had seemed excited to praise Green, and Grace had chalked all that up to the idea that Carrie was taking pride in falling for him. But Mark's mind had been elsewhere.
Green had killed a Septaroth on his own, and outran Pteranodons. Feats not obtainable by any regular human being.
Elves were naturally gifted in movement, even without the arts—but Green would have needed them regardless. How is he now that a vow was broken? Mark questioned. Has he broken his second? Has he grown attached to Carrie?
Those questions however, didn't worry Mark as much as one simple fact: If he is using his powers again.How hard will the world shake?
"You know, every girl has the same mindset." The man said, chewing on a piece of jerky. "My wife tells me that's foolish, but every time I hear the guys having trouble with their ladies, it's the same story. The guys are all just trying to live their lives and support their women, but the ladies always think they can do better. That's the problem nowadays, the women think that each and every one of them can find this hunk of a man somewhere else."
Green didn't reply, instead focusing on getting some alcohol on his knife wound preparing it for stitching. The bleeding had mostly stopped, and now that he had a moment, he would do what he could.
The stitching wasn't perfect, but the wound was mostly closed. He could work with that.
As the jerky man continued talking however, Green couldn't help but disagree. Voicing the untruths in the man's words would be pointless however. From what he'd seen from Grace alone—he found that women would fall for a man despite their flaws.
True, there could be women like that out there, Green hadn't met all of them. But judging every single one of them based on a few examples seemed illogical.
Green, the man who spoke, and sixty or so other men sat on a large set of bleachers. They waited for the next competition to start.
Apparently, every year the second round was chosen at random based on votes by the people, then set up, and finally explained to the contestants.
The man who spoke to Green had a yellow armband on and a rifle resting across his lap. And he talked as if he was either constantly tired, or constantly drunk.
He'd tried to start a conversation with multiple others surrounding Green, but they'd all been repelled by the rancid smell of the jerky. Green, however, stuck around. The man's presence gave him more solitude from the others.
"Alright everyone!" A man shouted. "Once again, this year's second competition will be team-based! All those who scored a hundred and sixty points or more will be on team red! From a hundred to a hundred and fifty-nine will be on team yellow! And from fifty to ninety-nine will be on team blue! Please separate now!"
The men sorted themselves into their respective teams, adjusting their armbands to match their new colors. The competition itself was a tactical battle set deep in the forest. Not Septaroth Forest, but an adjacent one—one several miles from the city.
Contestants would engage in combat using non-lethal bullets. Though the padded clothing they wore offered some protection, bruises were inevitable.
Green received the pendant that marked his participation. He would be disqualified if it was taken and would achieve the same outcome if it was hidden.
Green gathered his gear and acquainted himself with the red team, a good number of whom were glad to have him. The others however, glared at him with dissatisfaction.
More friends of the dead man, Green thought.
"Hey, we're on the same team," a man said.
Green turned to find the jerky man walking up to him and putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. Green's skin immediately felt out of place. Like the man's touch was shifting the skin in ways it shouldn't.
Green jerked away the moment he felt it, and the man stepped back.
"Sorry," Green said, "I don't like to be touched." Green rubbed his shoulder, as if trying to settle his skin back into place.
The man nodded, then began talking about this or that problem about the political structure nowadays. He certainly likes to talk, Green thought, not that he minded. Considering they started walking and the forest was several miles out, it was nice to hear someone talk so freely.
The jovial attitude of the man made Green think of the days when Pertalie and Nebabem would talk. While most were somber, those two had often confided in Green about their hopes of what their people could be.
Though Green had never really had friends, those two were the closest thing—that included his sister.
Of course, Green thought, Death caught up with them before anything could be official. That was when I started working alone.
"Listen here everybody," someone said, Green and the jerky man turned. The man who spoke was part of the red team, and had apparently been trying to gather everyone. "Everyone needs to stay in groups of two or three, any more and we'll become a target. Any less and they'll see us as easy pickings."
Green didn't respond, but frowned when he spotted the man's pendant around his neck. Green's own was around his wrist—a lot easier to move away in case someone tried to take it.
Green opened his mouth to say something but caught himself. He did not need another reason for scowles to head his way. Though it would probably be better for them as a team.
"Say's the man who's pendant is around his neck," said the jerky man as he spat on the ground. The others looked at him and Green—the first man scowled. "What? It's what we're all thinking, don't give me the stink eye just cause I was the one who said it."
The first man turned back to speaking, "well then, I suppose you and your buddy will be fine working alone right?"
Jerky man smiled, "yup, the rest of you losers can bunch up with people you don't know." The man's smile turned to a grin when the others looked at him with pure befuddlement. "But me and my buddy here's gonna win the whole thing for ya."
With that, the man gestured for Green to follow and walked ahead of the rest. Green followed—not wanting to show any hesitation—then looked up at the man. Well, the term "looking up" was a stretch.
The man seemed to be in his early thirties, but he was barely taller than Green himself. Though he did seem to have a perpetual hunch that took at least a few inches from his height.
Green squinted his eyes, he had learned not to judge based on appearance, but the man seemed to want people to underestimate him. Green knew better—if the man had been on the yellow team before, he would have had to win alone.
Jerky man suddenly started laughing, "what do you think?" The man asked.
Green almost smiled, he had been caught observing him.
"You look and sound like a lazy perpetual drunk," Green said flatly. "Your demeanor along with that hunch makes one think you to be just an arrogant doof."
The man smiled, "awfully blunt aren't ya?"
Green nodded, "But you couldn't have gotten in the red team without skill in play." Green looked at him suspiciously, "makes me wonder how sharp you really are. And how long you've been playing the fool in order to mess with others' perception of you."
"Hm," the man replied, "it seems I can't get anything past you. You're a sharp one that's for sure. Well good, I hate boring teammates. And I especially hate cocky liars, good thing I got you ay?"
Green looked back up at him, but the man just smiled then stopped himself from patting Green's back.