The Watcher: Adaptability Of A Bounty Hunter

Chapter 15) Reflections

The collection of crystals glimmered with even the slightest bit of light. An obvious side effect, created as a direct result of Travis’s unorthodox catalyst design. Roman wanted to punch himself for not asking Elizabeth for more information about the weapon she designed for him. But for the time being, Roman was in charge of this situation. If Travis stepped forward, Roman would take one back, digging the handgun into his young son’s skull. This was enough to keep him at arms length, for now, as a rogue mage there was a high chance that Travis was working out his own plan. Roman just needed to outsmart the man before he could clear his mind of parental worry.

Aaron was belligerent, “I trusted you! W-Why are you doing this mister, why!”

“That was your first mistake,” Roman said, never once taking his eyes off his father, “You’ll learn soon enough, everyone’s just looking out for themselves.”

“You’re a fat liar! My dad, he’d never lie to me!”

“That so? Let me ask you this then. Has your dad ever told you that everything would be okay? That he’d keep you safe, that he would fight just so you could see another day!” Roman’s voice came apart at the seams by the sentence’s end. He could hardly believe it honestly, outbursts like this were far from normal. Roman took a deep breath, exhaled, and… laughed, “My old man said the same thing. It’s all bullshit.”

Travis walked around the table, “Put. My. Son. Down.”

“If you don’t stop moving,” Roman didn’t take his usual backstep. Instead applied a slight amount of pressure on the gun’s trigger, “I’ll put him six feet under.”

That seemed to catch Travis’s attention, stopping him dead in his tracks,

“You’d kill a child, all for some damn cash!”

Aaron was shaking in Roman’s hold.

The kid must have run out of tears, only being able to muster up small sniffles under his breath. Roman longed for his mask, it made him feel safe, helped him shield himself from the world. More importantly, It was the only thing that separated Roman from the Watcher, a normal man and a ruthless killer. But he didn’t have that distinction any longer, no more could he hide behind the persona. He was just himself, traumatizing a family to further his own agenda.

And it made his stomach turn.

“The Toymaker doesn’t forget debts,” Roman said without any hint of the moral battle raging inside his mind, “Provide what’s owed, plus a small interest and all will be forgiven. You and Aaron can go back to your normal life.”

“Go back--” Travis let out a shaky breath, “You think I’m dumb? I know your type, even if I pay up. You’d come for me, try and use my damn son against me!”

“According to your son you aren’t a stranger to starting over in a new place. Why stress over it, disappear again.”

“What…?”

Aaron’s eyes were about as wide as the moon in the sky, “He’s lying! I didn't tell him that! No, No, No!”

“First a small apartment in the ACG’s capital, then a secluded cabin on the frontier, and now a duplex in Tafabid's western district. You sure do like to jump around don’t you. Typical movements for someone on the run.”

Aaron’s betrayal must have worn off, or been replaced by childish anger! Whilst still in Roman’s grasp, he started to kick, thrash around as much as humanly possible. All while screaming at the top of his lungs, “Let me go! You stupid, lying jerk! My dad is a good guy, you’re the bad one! YOU!”

Travis lowered his blade, “Aaron… Aaron! Calm down… it’s alright.”

“Dad...?”

He hung his head, shoulders softened, “ Look… I keep the money in the top cupboard. Drop my son, and I’ll give you it all.”

Roman glanced at the cupboard, “You have the key on you?”

“Key? Why would I need one?”

“Because the others are empty.”

Travis paused, shoulders tensing up, his fingers were squeezing the sword’s handle so tightly the blood in his hands pushed right up against his skin. Painting the tips of his fingers beet red. Funny, Roman thought, as someone who was also constantly switching in and out of fake facades throughout his career. Watching someone fail so spectacularly at something he’d long since mastered gave credence to Roman’s reputation. The Watcher was unreadable, and unknowable, a monster in the dark whose name alone would bring the most hardened of thugs to their knees. Too bad the man behind the infamous bounty hunter was far less infallible. And the man behind the infamy, Roman, was little more than another thug when compared to his second half.

Once again lost in thought, Roman’s hold on the child’s neck loosened just enough for Aaron to force his chin down, and bite down on Roman’s forearm. Aaron’s teeth sunk deep into Roman’s flesh, drawing blood, he screamed in pain, but no matter how hard he pulled, Aaron refused to let go. Whether or not Travis’s son meant to or not, Roman was preoccupied for no longer than five seconds. But those single digits were all his father needed. Travis charged forward, scooping up the tall glass cup once he ran past the table. Three steps in, Travis hurled the hefty mug at Roman. Out of options, with one pissed off mage sprinting towards him and a scorned child stabbing his teeth into arm, Roman followed his panicked instincts without the luxury of careful thought. Three distinct threats needed to be taken care of within a very short, and rapidly shrinking timeframe. He solved the easiest issue first, the inanimate object flying towards him burst into a spray of sharp glass fragments after colliding with a shot from his pistol mid-flight. Travis slowed in order to protect his face from the splatter. There was no time for Roman to catch his breath, when it came to the kid all it took was a single knock to the head with the underside of the pistol to take him out of the picture. Unconscious, Aaron’s bite lacked the strength needed to stay latched onto Roman’s meaty arm. The man flicked his arm back, haphazardly dropping the boy to the floor.

“Aaron!” Travis had blown a gasket, his hateful roar reached a volume and bass so ear splittingly loud it made Roman winch. Any father would turn irrationally violent watching their offspring’s limp body hit the floor, and Travis was no exception. Fueled with righteous anger, mana funneled down into his legs, which took on a bright sea color for the shortest of moments. Roman instantly knew what Travis was doing, still there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it in time. The last bits of exploded glass had yet to hit the floor when Travis played his card. He dashed forward with unnatural speed, blade pulled back, ready to carve into Roman’s flesh the second he came within striking range.

Speed boost! And a very potent one at that, Roman went toe to toe with many magic users who made use of this spell. Including his very own companions, but when Mari or even Cliff enhanced their movement, he was still able to track them with the naked eye. You can make predictions based on a speedy blur, take away any visual indication however and the task drifts into the realm of impossibility. On a whim, Roman threw himself backwards-- and a not a millisecond too soon, as the sparkling crystal sword reappeared right where he was previously standing. Roman slammed into the floor with the grace of a sack filled with bricks. But he was still quick on the draw, four shots rang out, and each one failed to hit their target. Travis put his enhanced reflexes to good use, blocking the projectiles with minimal effort. Precisely what Roman was hoping to see, whilst his opponent was expecting another bullet shot in the same general area, he shifted the gun barrel down towards Travis’s unguarded legs and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty. The magazine was empty. Opportunity wasted, Roman rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding what would have been a fatal downward slice. Cracking his skull against the drywall in the process, physical trauma aside it seemed that fate itself was dead set on digging Roman an early grave. Luckily, Roman disregarded the whole concept behind a predetermined destiny from an early age. He picked up on the sound of the course blade being dislodged from the ground and responded accordingly. Roman threw the empty firearm in Travis’s direction and leapt to his feet. Obviously the mage sliced the pistol into two mangled halves, but gave Roman the chance he needed to get in close. He’d have trouble swinging his sword from this distance, but those magical augmented reflexes couldn’t be disregarded. He needed to be fast, and his blows needed to be powerful enough to disorient. Roman wasn’t gifted the ability to wield magic when he was born, but he didn’t need magic to knock his opponent on his ass. Travis tried to jump back, but Roman’s fist connected with Travis’s pretty boy face quicker than he anticipated.

Travis reeled back, only to be met with a second punch to the gut. The man hunched forward, struggling to recapture the oxygen that was knocked out of his lungs. This was Roman’s chance! He moved faster than he ever had up till this moment and hammered his balled fist right on top of his opponent's wrist. The impact released an unpleasant, meaty crunch and an equally appalling screech from the mage. But all Roman heard was the victorious rattle and thud from the beefy bladed weapon as it smashed into the floor. A short lived victory, as not a second later Roman felt several, painful, collisions land on various parts of his body. It felt like being jabbed with the flat end of a hammer repeatedly. These short, but mighty blows carried on, culminating in a strike dead center on his face. Blood spurted out from his nose, and the force sent him spiraling backwards until his back crashed up against the farthest most wall.

Pitifully, he slowly slid down the wall, falling flat on his ass. Face dotted with lumps, and his body wasn’t in much better shape either. Giant, fist sized bruises could be found on his chest, stomach, and it burned with a throbbing pain that absolutely refused to go away. It was only after being pummeled did Roman piece together what had transpired. And in layman's terms, he got too far ahead of himself. Underestimating someone with superhuman strength and speed was such an idiotic move he didn’t want to accept it as reality, but there was no hiding from the facts. Failing to effectively analyze a situation, disregarding an enemy mage after disarming them, maybe those two Dulvians were right.

Without the armor, I really am nothing.

While Roman was reduced to a cripple across the slim kitchen, Travis was standing, left fist still pushed outward. His eyes were wide, beady almost, he was breathing heavily, even through blurry vision, Roman recognized the look of a cornered beast. Made him wonder how that encounter would have differed if Roman’s genetics were shuffled around a bit. Aside from moving his eyes to and fro, he lacked control of his own body. The pain was too much for him to handle without any extra body armor. Nothing was broken, as far as he could tell anyway, but any attempt to force a movement only caused him immense pain. Using what fading strength he had left, Roman followed his target's actions. He walked with a slight, sloppiness to his motions. He was clenching his right fist as tightly as he could, muttering obscenities in a pained hiss. Travis knelt down next to Aaron, checked his pulse, and sighed. Familial bounds were enough to, at least momentarily, sooth his pained body. He turned his head and saw that Roman was still alive, and all the unpleasant emotions seemed to surge back into his consciousness. Travis took his time, moving slowly to give his aching body a moment of reprieve, but eventually he made it back to the spot where he lost his sword, and re-equipped himself.

“All this for money,” Travis muttered in tired bursts as he carried himself to the other side of the room, “What was the plan huh? Ransom my son for the cash I owe? Torture him till I coughed up the credits?”

An outraged father was certainly something to behold. Roman wasn’t proud of himself for bringing the kid into this whole mess, but he couldn’t deny that in terms of strategy, it made sense to exploit the love between them for his own gain. Relationships made you weak, but if this job taught him anything it was that the polar opposite was just as valid. As soon as Aaron was stuck, it sent the guy into a wild frenzy that made him more difficult to deal with. In all honesty, the fear that his son would die if he didn’t win might have been the fuel he needed to power the violent barrage that ultimately ended the altercation. Surely Agma’s lap dogs would be laughing it up if they saw him now. They did try to warn him, convince the man that this foolish gambit was a bad idea, but Roman was nothing if not stubborn. Cliff and Mari could carry on a conversation forever if they really wanted, perhaps they would have a better reply for Travis’s question. He wouldn’t believe the truth, that Roman wasn’t even aware of the kid’s existence, and rightly so. Put into the same situation, Roman wouldn’t buy that either. Without an answer, he stayed silent until the man stood above him.

“It doesn’t matter now. Tell the Toymaker, you don’t f**k with my son.” Travis flipped the hilt around, all those jagged, beautifully shimmering crystals staring back at Roman. There were certainly worse sights to see before death. Lacking any hesitation, Travis plunged the blade down, splashing red liquid onto the ground, “What the hell?”

Roman’s entire being hurt so damn much that he didn’t even feel the sharp edged carve up his fingers. The apex of the sparkling material was suspended a mere inch away from the bridge of his nose. He sacrificed the appearance of his fingers for his own life, gripping the painful sword tight, “No….No…Not yet…”

“Come on… Ngh… just give up!”

Try as hard as he might. Roman could never accept defeat. Even if he was fighting against the inevitable, he rejected this fate! Travis pushed down on the handle, and Roman pushed back. Copious amounts of crimson liquid was dripping out from every possible crevice on his fingers. Most of which dripped right onto his own face, like the gentle pitter patter of rainfall. Once again, Travis put more weight onto the handle, Roman fought against the increasing pressure as best he could but it was a battle he couldn’t win. And the blade was gaining more ground with every passing second. Grabbing hold of the sword was no easy feat-- one he knew was impossible to recreate. The result of a sudden adrenaline rush coursing through his veins after being directly confronted with your own mortality. A well of energy that was being drained faster and faster. The sharpened edge hovering a mere centimeter away from piercing into Roman’s eye…

Muffled taps sounded off just above the grappling men. Travis looked up at the window behind Roman, “A blinker bo-- AUGH!”

One torrent of blinding light burned directly into Travis’s eyes. Swearing, he let go of the handle in a fumble. Desperately trying to save his vision from the ungodly flash from outside. The empty well refilled for Roman as the weight behind the deadly blade disappeared. He pulled the sword away from his face, breathed a sigh of relief, and finally pried his curled digits off the uncomfortable amalgamation. They resembled a shredded piece of meat prepared by a blind cook, bare flesh exposed and more blood oozed out the many cuts and gashes. His current lack of touch served him well in this moment. He took hold of the heavy weapon by its handle. While unlike any tool he’d ever seen before, there were still a few fundamentals of magecraft this catalyst should abide by. When separated from the mage, the catalyst typically fizzles out of existence. That is unless you are dealing with an exceptionally trained magus, who supplied the weapon with an abundance of mana beforehand. Although even with this precaution taken, the magic energy drains rapidly. Meaning that Roman had at most thirty seconds to turn the tables.

The blinding light slowly dissipated, and Roman launched forward, sword held high above his head. Travis was still fighting off the burning sensation attacking his blue orbs. Whether by blurry sight or sound, he was able to duck away from the overhead s***h-- not unscathed however. His own magical blade cut a neat gash into his left shoulder. He cried out in agony, only overshadowed by the thunderous crash of splintering wood as he fell into the dinning table. Another miserable shout bounced off the walls, at first Roman was unable to determine the cause, but when Travis rolled onto his back amid the shattered wood, the source became evident right away. Clusters of needle sized splinters were sticking out of the man’s chest. His clothing was torn, resembling tattered rags more than anything presentable by now. Roman approached carefully, not wanting a repeat of the last incident, Travis did nothing but track his movements. He seemed to be disabled for the time being, unfortunately the possibility of him springing back to prolong the fight was too high to leave him be. Roman stabbed the blade into Travis’s right thigh, twisting the unsteady sword while it was burrowed deep inside his leg, churning up the muscle with a disgusting wet sloshing noise. Time was up, and the crystalized amalgamation that made up this strange weapon crumbled away into large wisps of white smoke. Roman tossed the now deactivated hilt into the living room.

Roman grabbed what remained of Travis’s shirt collar and pulled him up to eye level, “The money… where is it…”

“Go… To… Hell…-”

Roman wasn’t in the mood for this. He slammed his fist into Travis’s face. And he did it again, and again, and again, only pausing once his nose was completely shattered, blood running out his nostrils like two red rivers. The battered mage sputtered out an unintelligible sentence, probably an insult, Roman grit his teeth and pulled his arm back for another strike when a voice he did not expect to hear protested, “Stop!”

Roman looked over his shoulder and saw Aaron, looking back at him with watery eyes and a frightened expression, “Stop it! Just stop!”

“Stop…” Roman turned his attention back to Travis. And what he saw frightened him. Travis’s face was a bloody mess, swollen eyes and riddled with bumps and cuts. He was barely recognizable from the model on the Holo-pic display. Shocked, Roman dropped the man’s limp body back onto the fractured table, Aaron rushed to his father’s side, not paying Roman any mind. He gripped his small hands around the unmoving hand of his father, and looked like he might fall apart at the seams at any second. Roman backed away from them, eyes unwilling to look at anything other than his own bloodstained hands. He felt disoriented, as if all the gravity on the planet was pushing down on him all at once.

Why… Why… Why the hell am I afraid. I’ve done far worse to people, so why is this getting to me…

From the ocean of spattered, horrified cries, one particular plea struck a cord deep inside of Roman. Something he wanted to remain buried for as long as he lived. “Dad! Dad! Please, no, no, no! Daaad!”

Travis coughed, “I…I’m okay…”

“DAD!” Aaron hugged his fathers arm. He said nothing more after that, the largest of his fears had been quelled, his father was still alive.

Travis smiled weakly, and turned to face Roman, “The key… It's in my bedroom upstairs. Take the money…”

Roman heard him speak, but he didn’t process the words. He could hardly stop the shaking in his arms, let alone formulate a proper response. His skin turned pale, and his eyes were stuck staring out into space. Trapped within the deepest, darkest pits inside his very own mind. He said nothing, didn’t even look his victims in the eyes as he left the small house.

The world outside was still caked in darkness. There was a strange stillness to the environment around that reflected his own mental state. Unlike any other point of the day or night, there was not a single soul around, just himself, standing alone. He wasn’t aware of exactly how much time had past since he entered the residence, and truthfully he didn’t care. Out from the corner of his eye however, came a small Blinker bot, wearing an awfully rushed red and white paint job coating it’s cubed body. Unlike most of these annoying droids, this one had two pincer-like claws hanging off of thin metal arms. The small machine waved at him, Roman didn’t bother to return the favor.

“So I owe the Toymaker my life again huh?” He sighed and looked at the robot’s lens straight on, “I’m paying for Talon's debt. No debate.”

He didn’t stay around long enough to see how Elizabeth’s machine reacted. As soon as his sentence wrapped up, Roman started down the opposite road, with only his regrets to keep him company as he made his way back to the Trashed Whale.