14 Frik, Frak & Frank

I woke, groggily, to the muffled sounds of Mum's radio set downstairs in the kitchen.

I turned my head to look at the clock on the bedside table, it read 6:57, the red lights that made up the numbers blinking at me mockingly.

I let out a groan, my shoulder twinging as I moved to get out of bed. I'd honestly almost forgotten about the events of the last night. By the time I'd gotten home it had almost been three in the morning, I'd barely gotten four hours of sleep.

Well, I probably hadn't gotten four hours of sleep. A lot of that time had been wasted trying to fix up my gauntlet.

Being a crafter was hard. There was an insatiable itch at the back of my mind all the time telling me to craft, to build things. Even when I'd been battered to within an inch of my life by one of the scariest Powered in the community my ability wouldn't let me pass out.

Despite my aching muscles and bones protests, I pulled myself out of bed.

If I broke my usual routine now I'd only end up alerting my mum to the fact that something was wrong, and I didn't want to do that.

Instead, I shuffled over to my cupboard and pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a shirt and my tracksuit top. With that all on, I stretched as best I could, shivering slightly as certain back muscles and sections of my spine crackled and popped back into place, before I made my way down the stairs.

Our house was modest by the standards of the community, and it couldn't really be called a house.

After Gold Dawn, the collapse of society, the community had been built up in any way that was possible. Crafters did what they could, and that essentially amounted to building small shanty towns wherever they found the space.

My mum and I lived in what likely used to be four shipping containers that had been converted into a single unit with a downstairs and upstairs. There were two bedrooms and a small toilet and shower room upstairs, with a kitchen and a living room downstairs. It was small, but for the two of us it was enough and it kept us happy.

My mum was already in the small kitchen preparing breakfast, bacon sandwiches with meat and bread sourced from one of the farms in the southern quarter of the community.

"How're you doing sweetheart?" She said as I walked down the stairs.

"M'okay," I all but grunted in response, unable to keep the yawn out of my voice.

She poked her head out of the kitchen and into the living room, where I was already pulling on a pair of trainers, "You don't sound it, sure you're okay?"

"Really mum, m'fine," I said, "Just a little tired, really didn't sleep that well last night."

She ducked her head back into the kitchen and went back to fixing up breakfast. "You could just head back upstairs to sleep, you know," She called out, "It's not like you have to go on your run before school. I thought people were meant to take rest days anyway!"

I rolled my eyes at that. Her concern was sweet, I couldn't deny that, but it was sort of kind of annoying as well.

The truth of the matter was my mum didn't really like me going out for my runs. She was worried about my safety and considering she had lived through the tumultuous times after Gold Dawn I couldn't blame her.

"Rest days are for people like bodybuilders, who really push their bodies, mum," I said with a sigh, an old and tired argument but one that hadn't lost its truth over time. "All I'm doing is going for a jog, you don't need rest days for that."

There was a moment of silence as she thought up a counterpoint, but really there wasn't one.

"Just make sure you stick to the Main Quarter, okay?" She said. "The radio claims there was a big Powered punch up in the old abandoned theatres, apparently Phet was taken down if you can believe that."

"Oh really?" I said, trying to force some surprise into my voice while trying to ignore the guilt I felt over misleading my mum.

"Yeah, apparently that Quasar brought him in late last night, the Coventry Mob will probably be spoiling for a fight over the next few days," She said, the clattering of plates in the kitchen implied she was serving up the meal she had cooked.

"That's uh… I'll keep it in mind while I'm out today," I said, keeping my face serious and composed as she walked in with two plates, each containing a BLT.

"Do you remember Frank?" she asked as she sat down.

I shook my head, that was a pretty random question.

"He used to work at one of the butchers, always gave me a bit of extra bacon on the side," she said, before taking a bite of her sandwich. "Turns out he got fired a while ago, only recently found work again… but guess who it was with."

I took a bite of my own, "Who?"

"Believe it or not, he's going to be one of Frik and Frak's goons!"

I almost choked on my sandwich at that. Frik and Frak weren't exactly the most well known, or most dangerous, villains in the community. If anything, they were thought of as a bit of a joke. They stylised themselves in heavy fantasy gear, and that went down to their henchmen as well. Also, Frik and Frak and Frank just sounded funny to me.

"From butcher to medieval knight, some would consider that an upgrade," I chuckled.

We continued our sandwiches in silence for a couple of minutes.

"So, I heard you open the door at around three last night," she said.

And there was me thinking I'd been so sneaky.