3.9

A page out of Malcolm Burgess’s life

The pub today was crowded and stuffed with people. It was always like this every noon, when the workers could finally have a bit of time for themselves. And so, they squeezed into the old pub in the damp alley, trying to forget their miserable life.

In the far back, however, was an empty table where no one dares to go near. It was for a special customer and his guests. The door swung open and so he walked in to his familiar spot. Behind him were muscle bound thugs and lowlifes, trying so not to bump into each other in this cramped space.

They blended in with the crowd while still keeping an eye out for the boss, the special customer. But made no mistakes, while their gazes were watchful they are of vultures than a protective kind.

The youth made his way through the crowd and sat in his small corner, his humble throne.

The owner here was a friend of his, a chubby man with a kind streak called Pete. The man immediately brought out a cup of milk as usual for the boss man.

But something was strange about Pete today, he looked so nervous, so twitchy. The youth wondered why, was it because of what happened yesterday. When he caught Pete with a woman under his protection, his mother.

Pete came to the table, carefully holding the cup of milk.

“Here you go Malcolm”

“Thanks” The youth replied as the man scuttled away “Wait, come, sit here with me for a bit”

“Sorry, we are quite busy, I should get back”

“No, your little Bobby can handle this much, a speed demon Bobby is. Come, sit here with me Pete, my friend”

The man started to sweat as he sat down in front the youth. Oh Pete, was he that worried. Malcolm called out.

“Bobby, comes here and gives your ward something to wet his beak”

In an instant, Booby was already here with a cup of water. A speed demon, that little guy. The youth called the boy up closed and shoved some bonus in his small grubby hand. Bobby lit up “Thank you Mr. Burgess”, and then disappeared back into the crowd.

Pete was still sitting there, still so nervous.

“Your drink is here, why don’t you take a sip”

“Oh of course I will, Malcolm”

It was true that the youth was very protective of his mother, that frail woman, so used to being used. But still, he wouldn’t mind ol’ Pete.

After barely drinking any, the man put his cup down, clutching it tightly “What about you, why don’t you take a sip as well Malcolm”

So that was how it is. The youth leaned back against the soft fabric.

“Oh, Pete, do you remember when we first met. That day is still so vivid in my mind”

“Of course I do, but why are you bringing that up now!”

“It was raining so heavily, and you found me half dead at your doorstep. I still remembered how brought me in and fed me and gave me a bed to sleep in”

“What are you on about, Malcolm?”

“A little orphan, I was a nobody when you took me in, Pete. And for that I am very grateful”

“Please, what do you want to say?”

“Pete oh my dear Pete, how long we have been acquainted now”

“Malc…”

“HOW LONG PETE, ANSWER ME”

The youth slammed his cane against the wooden floor. The entire bar turned silent and looked to the table. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity, of horror, of amusement.

“1…13 years”

“That’s right, I’ve known you longer than my own mother, than anyone”

The youth lifted up his cane and pushed the glass of milk toward Pete. A look of shock appeared on the man’s face.

“Drink it, Pete”

“Malcolm, please, don’t do this to me!”

“Drink. The. Milk”

Poor old Pete hunkered down and started to sob. He tried to hold back his tears and snots, but they keep on pouring out. His whole body loosened and slumped down in acceptance. Or was it, Malcolm could see something glimmer in the old pal crutch.

With all of his strength, Pete leapt at the youth with a knife in his hand. Malcolm simply sighed and kicked the table straight into Pete’s stomach.

Then with the agility of a wild cat, the youth pounced on the man. His cane dug deep into Pete’s chubby arm. The man screamed out like a castrated pig and dropped his knife to the floor.

“Why, Pete, why”

Malcolm asked politely, with a smile on his face, always with a smile. To his surprise, Pete yelled with all his might.

“WHY, YOU ASKED ME WHY! I KNOW YOU WILL KILL ME! I KNOW YOU WOULD DO! SO DO IT, DO IT!”

In all their 13 years, the youth had never seen this gentle man raised his voice once. But here he was, filled with bitterness and hatred. Teared streams out obscuring all of Pete’s vision but he still screamed.

“DO IT! DO IT!”

With his free arm, Malcolm reached into his pocket. The entire room grasped as the youth brought out… a handkerchief. With great care, he wiped the tears and snot and saliva of Pete’s face. Even the man was stunted by the gesture.

And with a smile, Malcolm replied gently.

“Very well”

Letting go of the cane, the youth punched his old friend square in the face. A dry crack could be heard as blood spews out of Pete’s mouth. Malcolm was always ready with a pair of brass knuckles in his gloves. He fractured the man’s jaw.

Another blow, this time a left punch, follow by a right then a left then a right then a left then a right then a left then a right then a left then a right then a left then a right then a left then a right then a left and it kept on going on and on.

Among the thugs, the lowlifes there were signs of amusement as first. But even they couldn’t stomach this level of ultraviolence.

The youth delivered blows after blows, all with the same deadly force, all with a smile on his face. When he was finally done, all was left of poor Pete’s head was a red mess. There was no trace of the gentle man, no trace of a living human being.

Malcolm stood up again, hair had fallen all over his eyes. The youth raised his hair back up with his bloodied hand. His face was smeared with red blood.

The youth went back and sat on his usual spot.

“Bobby, I’m thirsty, get me a cup of milk will you, this one I’m afraid was contaminated”

The boy looked at his dead ward in horror, his body shakened with fear. He soon snapped out of it though and poured a new cup of milk for the boss. His delivery was quick as usual but the drink was all spilled.

Malcolm help the cup into his hand and took a deep sip. Nothing was more refreshing than a cup of milk after some intense exercise.

The youth casted his eyes at the mess on the floor. 13 years they had known each other, now reduced to nothing. Malcolm couldn’t help but feel bad for the man, a good guy he was. The only one who was willing to help out the poor orphan, oh how he must had regretted being generous that day.

But still, plastered on Malcolm’s face was still a smile, a smirk more like. This bar, no this street, this city was filled with vultures. And they would come and tear him apart at the first sign of weakness, of empathy.

His age was an insult but no one brave enough to voice it and no one would dare say it now.

Malcolm looked at the cup, milk spilled all over his bloodied hand. Inside of him was a strange feeling he couldn’t explain.

For a kind soul like Pete to resort to this tactic, the man must have been terrified. Fear muddled with his mind, he wanted to live and looked where he was now.

The ironic thing was that the thought of harming Pete never thought Malcolm’s mind. True, he was strict on who could be near his ailing mother. But still, she was the woman who abandoned him at birth. He only found out who she was some years prior.

Compared to Pete, who had been with him for more than a decade, before the name Malcolm was something to be feared. Compared to Pete, the youth couldn’t care less for that woman.

And yet, after 13 years people should know more about one another, that’s how things work right? And yet, poor Pete was so scared. But there was something the youth cannot deny. There was something so satisfying about bashing someone head in with your own hands.

Malcolm looked into the cup. He could see a faint reflection of a face smeared with blood, still with a grin.

___

Only when Willow finished with her training did she notice her audiences. How long had they been there even, how long had the Herald stood in this cold morning watching her!

“What… when…”

“Calm down”

Momo-chan tried to reach out and pat the girl but he couldn’t muster the courage to do it.

“It is so cold now, I hope you don’t have to wait for too long!”

“No, I wasn’t waiting for anything, I was just looking at you training”

“Eh, but there wasn’t much really…”

Before Momo-chan could say anything, Malcolm interjected.

“Nah, it was entertaining to see you flailing around. It’s been a while since I have seen such a train wreck, thanks for that, princess”

The words dug at her but Willow try to ignore them. She tried to focus on…

“Still, for you to be like this. I wonder what kind of terribleness these ‘Divines’ can display” Malcolm tipped his bowler head, his voice filled with mockery.

“What…”

“I heard it was your father who trained you right? The Divine Gottfried, the leader of the Divines, the best swordsman of the continent”

“Stop, just stop it…” Willow could feel her blood rushing.

“I am dying to meet him, maybe he could teach me how to flail like a dead fish as well”

“STOP IT!”

Willow’s blade found it way straight in front of Malcolm’s throat. The youth leaned forward, his skin touching the cold steel.

“What are you doing, princess. Are you going to cut me down, princess?”

“You… I can’t forgive you… you mocked the Divines, you mocked my father…”

“And? Even if you cut me down, it doesn’t change the fact that you are all just a bunch of incompetent twats. You could command magic power and yet still had to call for help from a bunch of outsiders like us”

“That…”

“Just stop it” Momo-chan jumped in and pushed the blade away.

“No, don’t stop” Malcolm tripped him to the ground “Let the princess does what she wants. What do you want then?”

“I… I…”

“If you want to prove me wrong, I am ready”

“I won’t… Ugh, ready your weapon!”

Willow stepped back and ready her sword. Malcolm simply pulled out a knife on his right hand, his left hand still holding onto the cane. The youth didn’t even remove his coat.

“Don’t be too heated, or else you will just collapse again, princess. That would be too boring”

Momo-chan stood up and watches as the two readied to clash with one another. Next to him was Conrad, watching silently while clicking his fingers.

Malcolm looked at his opponent. The youth could feel something swelling inside him. How long had it been since he last fought someone? That Roman didn’t really count. It didn’t matter. The youth was more excited than he thought. At this rate he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

He could feel a strange hunger, a thirst for the good ol’ ultraviolent.

Malcolm bowed to his opponent with a smile, always with a smile.