Trail Trail 57: Growing Frustrations

--- Jon ---

“So what’re you working on today?” Miss Edna asked, twisting her head a bit to see what he was writing. An action Hoots mimicked from her shoulder.

“One of my contracts, Wolf, asked me to help them with one of her spells.” He answered, continuing to chip away at a new spell circuit that built upon his previous [Moonlit Double] spell by mixing it with Pix’s [Mischief]. Something that would hopefully let him change the clone’s shape to something more lupine.

“Uh-huh,” Miss Edna nodded, taking a sip of her coffee before tapping a piece of the circuit connecting the two affinities. “Just so you know this connection is wrong.”

He narrowed his eyes at the connection that looked right to him. “What’s wrong with it?”

“The way you have it written the two Concepts won’t merge properly when you trigger the spell, instead you’ve written a redundancy that’ll trigger the whole circuit twice casting the spell twice once with the concept of [Moonlight] and once with [Mischief].” His mystical mentor explained. “From there while the [Moonlight] part should work depending on the time of the month -if I’m reading this right- the [Mischief] section will probably fizzle out after draining the magic necessary to cast it.”

“Meaning all I’ve really done is double the spell’s magic cost.” He frowned, running a hand down his face. “While also making it so that I need Pix to make it work since its affinity reliant.”

The little fairy looked up from where she sat on top of depressed Brutus watching TV and let out a curious chirp.

He ran a hand over both of their heads.

Miss Edna pulled his failed circuit over for a closer inspection. “Hmm, what exactly is the spell you’re helping -Wolf, you said?- with?”

He tapped his pen against the table as he tried to think it out. “She’s got this thing where she can make duplicates of herself and have them do simple commands. I’m trying to help her upgrade it since -from what I can tell- all she can really do with her current version is increase how much magic she puts in to create more duplicates. I figured out how to make a duplicate myself as a starting point, but it’s bound to the phase of the moon so that’s a dud.”

“Right… and given how you’re using [Moonlight] have you tried just… regular [Light] yet? That should solve the moon issue, with an overcharge giving it more weight.” Miss Edna pointed out.

He blinked before pinching the bridge of his nose, because, “No… I haven’t tried just regular Light… which obviously wouldn’t have the moon restriction.”

“Eh, sometimes the obvious answer slips past us.” Miss Edna shrugged. “That said, this spell you’re working on is a fair bit beyond what most beginners could pull off.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

Miss Edna scratched her head a bit. “Well… your theory work here is pretty solid, given how you were able to make a double at all. The thing is… there’s this series of spells that most [Light] users are always taught, with the first couple being in any beginner spell book given how common a [Light] affinity is. What you’re trying to do is like the third or fourth spell in the series, which is around when people start mixing affinities.”

“So… this is a… common spell?” He summarized, feeling a little frustrated.

Miss Edna made a so-so gesture. “Eh, a fully functioning duplicate is a lot rarer than a five second clone. But the foundation of what you want is pretty well known, it’s just that concept mixing bit that usually throws people. Of which you’ve got a solid theory going, and could probably crack once you know the initial spellwork.”

“Yeah, the most basic spell is basically bending light to create an illusion, like what Pix does.” Miss Edna told him as she took his pen and piece of paper to start drawing. “The second is then giving the illusion mass, while the third is animating it. From there further tiers of the series split based on the number of simultaneous constructs as well as programming complexity and detail work. I’d say what you’ve already got is based on the fourth tier skipping a lot of detail and complexity by just doing a quick copy and past of yourself. What you want is probably going to be fifth tier with a focus on detail work for now.”

Once she finished the circuit she was drawing Miss Edna triggered it, causing a small motionless owl to rise out of the paper. Something that Hoots took an immediate interest in as the little owl hopped off of her shoulder and began inspecting his static copy.

“Now since Script Craft isn’t really my thing I can’t teach you all of that, but I can at least show you the foundational stuff you skipped.” His second parent assured him, offering back the pen with a spin.

Scene Consequences

-Gained [Hard Light Construct] and [Hard Light Double] spells.

--Hard Light Construct: When cast, create a Hard Light Construct with stats and complexity based on [Spell Craft + Occult] Lv. (I.E. Construct has [X] HP, and/or deals [X] damage as a weapon.)

--Flash Double: Create a single short lived duplicate that performs an exact duplicate of the user’s physical actions for [Spell Craft + Occult] AP before fading. (Note: Stats are the same as the user, but deal [Light] damage in place of [Physical] damage.)

-Thanks to Miss Edna’s help gained 3XP to Script Craft.

--*Skill Level Up* Script Crafting Lv. 5 (0/12)

---Due to reaching Lv. 5, Jon can now use 2 Concepts when crafting a Spell Script.

---

There was a knocking on the door, at first he was planning to just ignore it but as the knocking grew more insistent he found himself opening the door just to stop the noise. At which point he found himself face to face with Mr. Bunson, a mildly overweight man with black hair currently wearing an open button up shirt and more importantly currently the manager of their building.

Mr. Bunson glared at him for a moment, before asking, “Your Minerva Whitaker’s son, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded, figuring that was who he was looking for. “But my Ma isn’t… available at the moment…” He found himself explaining. “What do you uh, what do you need?”

The man looked around him, as if trying to see if he was lying about his mother being absent.

“Well Whitaker, your rent’s a week late.” Mr. Bunson told him.

“Oh… yeah…” With his Ma in the hospital, he hadn’t really… taken care of that, especially given how his Ma’s check would’ve been in on the day rent was due. Three days after she’d been hospitalized. “That’s um, that’s going to be uh, we’re going to need another week or two.”

His Ma was bound to be up by then. (Right?)

Mr. Bunson scoffed. “Yeah, no, that’s going to be a problem for me. Your lease clearly states that if the rent isn’t paid within a week I can file for eviction. Meaning if you don’t pay it, plus late fees within thirty days of today you will be evicted.”

To underline this the property manager handed him a paper with several signatures on it, with roughly the same message if with more legalese.

“I don’t… All we need is a bit more time.” He tried to explain. “We’ll, we’ll have the rent, just…” He needed his Ma to wake up.

“Look kid, we’ve all got problems, but you can’t just not pay your rent because of whatever’s going wrong in your life.” The manager continued, uncaring for his words. “I’m filing eviction, if you want me to stop, pay up.”

“But my Ma is…”

“I don’t care what your mom’s problem is.” Mr. Bunson interrupted him. “All I care about is keeping this place nice and quiet, and for people to pay the rent I’m owed.”

“That’s, I understand, but… just listen…” He tried to speak. “My Ma is in…”

“Like I said, I don’t care.” (The parasite) interrupted him again. “Pay your rent or you and your mom are out of here.”

A tenseness tore through him as he fought down his instinctive response.

Instead he inhaled slowly, and exhaled just as slowly as the beast in his head let the man stay in control.

He checked the paper in his hand for the amount they owed, as well as the fact that they had to pay an additional ten percent in late fees. “Wait right here.”

Part of him was aware that he could ask Miss Edna for help paying the rent, but at the same time he was also aware that while she owned both Camp Bet and her shop, between the two she was just barely breaking even given their small town location.

Whatsmore he also was aware of the fact that his Ma’s hospital bills would be… extensive after such a prolonged period, even with whatever insurance plan the station set her up with. Something he had no desire to make more complicated than he had to, given how stressed she was likely to be once she woke up.

So instead he dug through his stashed cash from Blackwell and withdrew the amount requested by his landlord, before making his way back to the… man and handing over the stack of bills. “This should be everything.”

“You’re supposed to give me a money or-”

His knife stabbed into the doorframe with an audible crack.

“Let’s get this straight, Bunson. My mother is currently in the hospital after a Creep attack on Halloween. I violently killed the Creep in question. Due to this hospitalization, our rent was late. I’ve now paid that rent in full.” He leaned toward the increasingly pale man. “Don’t push me.”

He leaned back, exhaled and smiled. “Now have a nice day.” Before calmly closing the door.

Scene Consequences

-Jon has paid this month’s rent.

--Weekly income reduced by $40, current funds: $264 + (25 per week).

---

He was growing sick of it.

Unable to restrain himself any longer he stood from his seat and began pacing back and forth in his Ma’s hospital room.

The sitting. The waiting. The beeping of his Ma’s heart monitor.

He was just so sick of all of it.

That didn’t mean he’d stop visiting. That didn’t mean he’d stop waiting. That did not mean he’d give up on his Ma.

She was the strongest person he knew, maybe not in raw power, but definitely in determination and spirit. The woman having done several military tours at the dawn of Deviant military units, a completely unpowered woman going head to head and keeping up with Deviant threats around the world for years before coming home and being the single parent to a (broken) child.

At no point did she give up on herself or him.

He forced himself back into his chair, because he’d sit. He’d wait. And he’d listen to every beep that reminded him that she hadn’t given up yet.

Because just like her at no point would he give up on himself or her.

Scene Consequences

-Ma Whitaker is still comatose.

---

Between everything involving his family, the landlord, and his Ma’s hospitalization, he found himself growing increasingly antsy. Enough so that after not even five minutes of trying to sit down and help Pix learn the spell scripts Miss Edna had taught him, he found that he just… couldn’t.

Inhaling and exhaling he tried to stay calm, something he’d found himself struggling with all day. Enough so that he’d cut school in order to keep from lashing out at the day to day dealings he usually put up with in favor of visiting his Ma, something that hadn’t calmed him down like the way he’d been hoping. (If anything it made it all worse.)

Finally throwing down his pen in frustration, he came to the realization, (I need to hurt something.)

This was not a realization he liked, because as much as he enjoyed fighting, he did not enjoy hurting people.

(Violence is a tool, not a tonic.) He reminded himself of a lesson all of his more… volatile mentors agreed with, (though I might just make an exception today…)

He ran his hand through his head, briefly considering calling Ying or summoning Wolf for a spar, before dismissing the idea when he forced himself to admit that in his current state he’d likely take things too far. (But I really want -no need- to hit something…)

Shaking his head, and admitting this was a lost cause he grabbed his magic supplies and started moving to put them away, something that was ultimately pointless given his Ma’s state, but was enough habit to-

“Gah!” He bit back a curse as he knocked over a vial of his spell ink, spilling it all over the place.

In the process of trying to clean up the mess he’d made, he found a flier he could vaguely remember acquiring, one for the infamous, ‘Tru Grit’s Fight Pits.’

While the front of the flier didn’t give away too much information beyond the names of a handful of fighters, he found that someone -(probably Tru)- had written an address with a number of times on the back.

One of which would be beginning that afternoon.

“Hey, Pix… want to go beat some people up?”