Remember the guy in high school that everyone wanted to be? He was usually the quarterback of the football team and had more friends than anyone else. He was dating the hottest girl in school, drove the nicest car, and got good grades because he convinced the smart kid to do his homework for him. That guy totally wasn't me.
No, I was the smart kid doing the quarterback's homework. I was the kid no one wanted to hang out with because I was into weird stuff like role playing games and comic books. Girls wouldn't give me the time of day and my family was too poor to afford a second car so I was stuck taking the bus. I had one best friend and a couple of people whom I considered good buddies, but to everyone else I might as well have been invisible.
Except for the bullies, of course. I got picked on mercilessly, made fun of, and called every name in the book. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, though, right? If I just put my time in, studied hard, and ignored all the assholes, I would get accepted to a prestigious college, earn my degree, and land an awesome job. Then I could go to the local burger joint and make the quarterback ask me if I wanted fries with that.
As it turns out, I survived high school. I was accepted into a private university, had my degree after four years, and got hired at a pretty decent job right out of school. The only problem was that nothing else had changed. The few friends I had moved away and I spent my free time playing computer games online and watching anime. Women still wanted nothing to do with me and I drove a mid-sized sedan because I couldn't afford the maintenance on anything better. At work, I would pick up the slack for the office superstar because he had too much else going on in his life. By my late twenties, I had fallen into a nice, comfortable rut.
I came home from work on a Friday night and tossed my briefcase on the couch. My tie was choking me, so I pulled it off. After sloughing off my loafers and draping my jacket on the back of a dining room chair, I made my way to the fridge. A microbrew sounded wonderful. I sank my teeth into a slice of cold pepperoni pizza and then booted up my computer. My guild was going to be running a raid tonight and I wasn't about to miss it. As soon as I had logged on, my cell phone buzzed.
“Getting out of your dungeon tonight, little brother?” the screen flashed at me. That would be my sister, Audrey.
My thumbs flew over the virtual keyboard. “Shut it, sis.”
Several seconds later, my phone buzzed again. “You're never going to get laid with that attitude.”
“I'd rather not discuss my sex life with my sister.”
“LOL. What sex life? :P”
I chucked my phone down on my desk in disgust. What did she know? Hell, I'd had sex before. Although…shit. When was the last time I'd actually had sex with a woman? I thought about it for a moment and realized the first and last time was at a party in college my “friends” had dragged me to. Most of the night was a blur and I’m pretty sure I had a minor case of whiskey dick, but I had still managed to get lucky.
Anyway, there was a raid on. A couple of mouse clicks and my dwarven berserker began slaughtering orcs with extreme prejudice.
“Ding!” I typed as I gained a level.
My guildmates responded in a chorus of “Grats!”
Nearly two hours later, we'd ganked the boss orc and divvied up his loot. I rolled on a pair of enchanted boots and completed my armor set. After one last round of congratulations, I logged off and shut down my computer. My phone was still where I had left it, the black screen mocking me.
Never getting laid, huh?
I slipped my loafers back on and grabbed my jacket as I headed out the door. There was a bar nearby that some of my coworkers had talked about. What's the worst that could happen?
As soon as I walked in, my senses were assaulted. Bass thudded into my chest, the acrid stench of sweat mixed with flowery bodyspray filled my nose, I could barely see, and the warmth from accumulated body heat was enough for beads of sweat to spring from my forehead. I managed to make my way to the bar without stumbling into anyone. The bartender was flirting with a twenty-something blonde, but eventually I caught his attention.
“What can I get you?” he shouted over the house music as he laid a drink napkin down in front of me. He had an eyebrow piercing and was wearing a T-shirt with skulls and roses on it.
I leaned forward so I didn’t have to yell as loudly. “Whatever amber ale you have on tap is fine.”
“Sure thing.” He filled a pint glass and set it down on the napkin before going back to chat up the blonde.
Beer in hand, I surveyed the room. The dance floor took up most of the space, but there were several standing tables off to the right. Most of the tables had groups of women at them, but I knew better than to try and pull a mob when it had backup. Eventually I found a bored looking brunette all by herself, so I walked over as cool and casual as I could.
“Hi, I’m Kyle. Can I buy you another?” I gestured to her half-empty drink.
She looked me up and down. “Sure. Rum and diet cola.”
I smiled and nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
The pounding beats of the house music was starting to make me sick to my stomach, but I couldn’t wimp out now. I yelled at the bartender again before returning with the lady’s drink. She had been joined by a broad-shouldered guy in a leather bomber jacket.
“Am I interrupting?” My smile was unassuming as I set the drink down.
The new guy turned towards me. He was at least half a head taller and probably fifty pounds heavier. “I was just about to ask the lady to dance, so yeah, you are.”
The brunette shrugged as if to say, “Sorry,” so I nodded and walked away.
What the hell was I thinking? This was a stupid idea. Stupid Audrey. I couldn’t believe I took her bait. After leaving my unfinished beer at the bar, I headed outside. What had made me think I could just go to a bar and pick up a girl for a one night stand? That guy wasn’t me. That guy wasn’t me at all.
I was pulling out of the parking lot when I heard a heavy thud and my head bounced off the steering wheel.
“Son of a bitch!” I whipped around and saw the muscle car that had just hit me. After throwing the car into park and putting on my flashers, I stepped out to survey the damage.
The other driver was furious. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole?” He was literally foaming at the mouth and a cloud of booze-breath hit me square in the face.
“I was just trying to leave, man. I think you backed into me.” The damage wasn’t too bad. He’d put out his taillight on my bumper, which was a little dented, and we had swapped some paint. It was nothing that insurance wouldn’t pay for.
“Are you saying this was my fault?” He was screeching now, and flailing his arms at me.
“No, I didn’t say that. We can let the insurance companies sort all that out.” I reached for my wallet so I could dig out my insurance card. “If I can just get your information-“
I felt the shot before I heard it. Pain exploded in my left bicep and radiated throughout the rest of my body like a shockwave. Bright red blood blossomed on my white shirt.
“You...you shot...” I stammered. My mind felt cloudy. Iron bands were wrapped around my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. Blackness started to creep into the edges of my vision.
Something in me snapped. Deep scarlet flooded my sight, and I roared like a wounded bear. I launched myself over the cars at my attacker, raining fists down on him as hard and fast as I could.
The next thing I remember was waking up in a small room with concrete walls. Wire springs dug into my back through a thin mattress, my knuckles felt like they had been replaced with gravel, and my left arm screamed at me every time my heart beat. I groaned, and the cot above me creaked with the weight of its occupant.
“Wakey wakey.” A bald, chocolate head popped over the edge of the top bunk and smiled at me. “We got a badass over here.”
“Who are you? Where am I? What the hell happened?”
“Oh, that's rich. Little man don't remember beating somebody to death.”
That got my attention. “What? Me?”
His laugh was like rolling thunder. “Such an innocent flower. You crushed some dumb bastard’s skull, white boy.”
I tried to think back, to remember. But it was gone, blank, like there was a hole in my memory. “I don't remember that.” It was then that I noticed my orange jumpsuit. “Am I in jail?”
“Damn straight. The man don't take kindly to murderers.”
There was commotion from outside the bars of my cell. The rest of the prisoners were getting restless. Something was going on.
I swung my legs over the side of the cot and got up. My arm was strapped to my chest in a sling, but it still hurt just thinking about it.
“Recreation time, ladies! Get up and get moving!” The guards were walking down the corridor. A loud buzzing sound preceded the cell doors sliding open.
My cellmate leapt down from his bunk. He was twice my size and almost knocked me to the ground when he clapped me on the back. “Come on, little man. Yard time!”
Dumbstruck, I followed him out to the yard. As the sunlight warmed my face, every prison movie and television show I'd ever seen ran through my head. I really didn’t want to have to join the skinheads for protection. Maybe my cellmate could help me out, I could be the token white guy? The vatos locos were an option; I grew up in SoCal so yo hablo un pequeno espanol. As long as I didn't have to hold on to anyone's pocket or be anybody’s bitch, I'd be ok.
With one arm, I couldn’t lift weights and doing any sort of strenuous activity sounded incredibly painful. Walking around the yard probably wouldn’t hurt too badly. It would give me a good opportunity to look around, get my bearings, and try to figure out whom to ally myself with.
I had just started walking when a beachball of a man with a swastika tattooed on his forehead blocked my path.
“Where you going, boy?”
“Oh, just out for a stroll.” I gave him my best smile.
He stepped forward and bumped me with his gut. “We own this yard. If you wanna use it, you gotta pay the toll.”
“That seems fair. What’s the toll?” I took a half-step back but ran up against another skinhead. I looked left and right and saw more skinheads surrounding me.
“Just your ass. And maybe that pretty mouth. Gotta do something about all those teeth, though, first.”
My right arm was suddenly wrenched behind my back, followed by my sling being torn off. As they yanked my left arm back, the agony nearly made me vomit. The fat nazi grabbed my cheeks in his sausage fingers and squeezed. “Pucker up, sweetheart!”
I screwed my eyes shut. This shouldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. I’d wake up in bed, drenched in sweat, and swear I’d never watch late night cable TV again.
But I wasn’t dreaming. This was a nightmare I wouldn’t be able to wake from. This memory wouldn’t fade with the light of day. They unzipped my jumpsuit and yanked it down. The sun was warm.
My eyes popped open. I’d be damned if I was going to be an easy target. I was tired of being the whipping boy. Everyone always thought they could do or say whatever they wanted to me and I would just have to take it. Well I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
Crimson crept into the edges of vision. My skin, already warmed by the sun, started to heat up. My heart pounded, pumping faster and faster, deafening me with the sound of rushing blood. The pain in my arm vanished and I felt like I could rip a phone book in half. I burst free from the full nelson and wrapped my hands around the fat racist’s face in front of me. As I literally saw red, his eyes darted back and forth as if looking for help. His skin turned bright red around my hands. He screamed like a hog getting slaughtered as thin tendrils of acrid, black smoke curled around my fingers.
My hands burst into flame and I watched with a sick grin as my would-be rapist’s flesh bubbled and cooked. The fat melted first, causing his skin to sag. White-hot flame licked his eyeballs, which sizzled and popped like bacon on a griddle. I pushed him down to the ground and watched the fire dance on his corpse for a few seconds, his mouth open in an eternal wail.
The skinheads had begun backing away, their faces frozen in sheer terror. They weren’t getting off that easy. My fingernails dug into my palms as I balled my hands into tight fists. Fury washed over me and the flame on my hands spread quickly up my arms, engulfing my entire body. Wreathed in crackling fire, I lifted my arms up and bellowed. My primal scream was matched by a roaring wall of flame that spread out from my body. As the heat blasted into the skinheads, their flesh flayed off their bones, leaving nothing more than charred and scattered viscera.
I stood in the center of the pile of smoking human wreckage. As my rage subsided, so did the fire. I watched in wonderment as the flames winked out, ending at my hands, leaving my fingernails trailing smoke.
The yard was quiet. Even the guards were stationary, seemingly wary of getting too close to me. After an eternity, my cellmate stepped out of the crowd and came over to me.
“Feel better?”
I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. “Much. But the rest of these pieces of shit had better not piss me off again.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Boss.” He grinned and laughed his thunderous chuckle again.
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