An Unbearable Life

It wasn't the first time that an argument had broken out at the casino table on Propano Street, a street known for its games of chance. Mr. Kael Druid had been beaten in the last dozen rounds this morning by a boy who had suddenly appeared in those parts.

"It's the fourteenth time this morning alone!" he yelled at the table. "If that goes on and you don't prove you're playing fair, we'll have to send you away!

The boy tried to explain himself once more.

''As I've said countless times, you guys are just bad. I'm used to playing with people much better than you, besides, math is my strong point." The boy said, patting the top of his head.

"Do I look like an idiot?" growled Mr. Kael, mug full of beer in hand. "I know cheaters when I see one, and well, I think you know what's going to happen to you now."

He exchanged glances with the men surrounding the table as the Dealer walked away from the spot along with the other players.

''Last chance, return what you took.''

''You're not going to do that, are you old man? This is C-H-E-A-T-I-N-G." The boy scoffed at the face of the man and his henchmen, as if they posed no threat.

A young employee who appeared to know the boy tried to argue, hoping to avert a catastrophe, but her words were drowned out by a loud, prolonged burp from the middle-aged man.

''Nonsense, kid! I never lost while playing here and suddenly you try to ruin me?'' said Mr. Druid, jumping up from his chair, veins throbbing in his temples.

''GET THAT BASTARD!'' Just as the middle-aged man yelled this, the clerk gasped, falling to the floor with a thud. The man's henchmen let out screams that resembled the roar of animals and raised their hands as they advanced on the boy. And Mr. Druid flew towards the boy, with a knife in hand.

''Well, do what it takes, right?'' The boy said, dodging sideways an attack that one of the henchmen directed and, soon after, pulling the man by the same attack hand and kneeling him in the face, making a crack that filled the air in the area.

Then the two men who were still standing rushed toward him in unison, an effort in vain. For the boy easily incapacitated them, kicking the knee of the henchman closest to him, who let out a groan and fell helplessly to the ground. And right after, giving a spinning kick in the face of the other idiot who was running voraciously towards him.

The boy then pulled the man who was incapacitated to the ground due to a broken knee and threw him towards Mr. Druid, who had a knife in his hand. Using this as a distraction, he quickly advanced on the man whose vision was blocked, putting his hands around the knife and taking it from the middle-aged man with ease.

"What the fuKUGH" Mr. Druid exclaimed in surprise and terror, however, he was unable to complete his sentence, when the young man brought him down with a well-aimed kick to his neck, instantly passing out.

"This was easier than I expected" The boy said, as he looted the money that was in the bag carried by Mr. Druid, and looked into his pockets for more money.

Having finished his 'work', he went towards the employee who was still on the ground, trembling, and extended his arm towards the young woman.

"Get up there, Rose."

''Why is it that every time I see you, you get into trouble? Quagmire now means troublesome?'' The employee with black hair and red eyes that matched Quagmire's, grabbed his hand and started to get up.

The boy didn't respond as he counted the money he'd won during his gambling at the casino and, well, by some other means as well.

''14 thousand… 15 thousand… 17 thousand… 17 thousand fucking crowns.'' He soon looked at his friend Rosa's reddened face, and at the mess he'd caused during the brawl where the men were still unconscious.

''That should cover the damage.'' He handed over a large wad of bills, making the woman's eyes sparkle. But before she could say anything, the boy was gone.

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Near Propano Street, a figure completely dressed in black with his face covered by a hood, laughing to himself in the middle of the night.

''With the money that's left, I'll definitely be able to pay my debts.'' Underneath his hood, Quagmire grinned deviously ''And with the rest of the money, I can continue the experiments. ''

Quagmire was a scientist — a scientist who had been relieved of his position and all his inventions. He worked for several years for the noble government, creating and improving various technologies, all so that in the end, he would simply be stripped of everything and completely abandoned with no memories on the outskirts of the lower city.

Since being abandoned without any explanation, he has been trying to survive at any cost, living in a small apartment near the less dangerous part of the periphery on Proton Street, while being treated like a bomb that could explode at any time without knowing why. He wouldn't admit it, but he missed researching and creating things so much, it was like he had a permanent stomachache. He missed the facilities, with their assistants and their restricted passages, which only he and a handful of other people had access to, the influential professors and researchers, the refined technology, the good food, and above all, the feeling of being able to have freedom and ability to create what you want.

However, all his equipment that allowed him such a feat, such as his modulator (a small golden device that allowed him to administer radioactive reagents and energy sources), his toolbox, his clothes, his computer, of the last type, built and improved by himself, in short, Quagmire's belongings had been almost completely confiscated and used by the government and its institutions. What did the Council of Nobles care if Quagmire starved to death because it had no way to develop devices to sustain itself? What did it mean to the Council of Nobles that Quagmire lost all integrity and loyalty to them? The Council were what Quagmire called hopeless idiots, completely arrogant and drunk on their undeniably great power.

Despite that, what could Quagmire do without his accoutrements? He was just a normal human, at least that's what morons in power thought. Whether or not he took away his belongings, Quagmire was still extremely smart and insightful, throwing scams and playing games of chance, with the money he'd earned working as a waiter, surviving on odd jobs he could get here and there.

It took about 20 minutes to walk from Propano Street to the apartment complex that appeared to be an unfinished construction site, in the middle of Átomo Street, the place where Quagmire lived.

"Home, sweet home," The boy said as he entered his apartment, heaving a huge sigh as he closed the door.

The apartment was relatively simple, not very furnished, and the walls were painted white, which contrasted sharply with the filthy walls outside. The boy wasted no time putting the money away in an old wooden drawer and then lying down on his bed, completely exhausted.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. The room gradually darkened until it was just black. Exhausted, with his belly growling, and his muscles a little sore from the countless fights he's been involved in over the past week, Quagmire fell into a restless sleep.

He dreamed that he was being used as a zoo exhibit, with a gold tag attached to the cage that read: FORGOTTEN AND ABANDONED IDIOT GENIUS. Many people watched him from behind the huge bars that held him, still weak, lying on a bed made of leaves. He ended up spotting a pink haired girl who stood out in the crowd, even though he didn't know her, he felt a special feeling when he saw the girl, and screamed desperately for help, but the girl just watched him with eyes that showed pity and soon disappeared. Then the heads of the Great Noble Houses appeared, shaking the cage bars and laughing at his suffering.

"Shut up" The boy muttered as the noise of the bars increased more and more, hammering into his already aching head. More and more people started to laugh, because of the 'show' that the nobles were doing with that freak.

"Just leave me alone… SHUT THE FUCK UP!" And suddenly, there was just a flash.

The sound of knocking on the door could be heard, he opened his eyes in alarm. Moonlight streamed in through the brittle windows. And someone was outside his apartment, who knows what time in the morning, knocking on the door like he was going to break it at any moment.

"I'm going, I'm going!" he said, hurrying to put his shirt back on as he walked towards the door.

"Who's the idiot knocking on someone's door at dawn?" he said, nimbly sliding the door open so they could talk through the safety catch.

Quagmire's jaw nearly dropped from his head as the impact of what he saw finally hit him. It was a man with two lions crest on his shoulders, wearing white clothes with some blue trim, this guy was someone from the branch of the agency, the agency of the noble members who made his life in disgrace.

''All right, Sir Mir?'' Asked the man with a smile.

''What the hell is going on?'' Quagmire was already sneaking his free right hand over to the top of the drawer, where a gun lay in case the man tried to arrest him.

''Well, I came here for a reason.'' The agency envoy said, putting his hand in one of his pants pockets, which was a trigger for Quagmire to become even more cautious of any suspicious move.

''I came to formally invite you to join the Agency's Academy.''

For a few seconds, Quagmire was confused to the point where he almost dropped his weapon completely, staring at the man as he waited for him to say that this was just a joke. It all seemed just a dream, despite hating the nobles, he still wanted to return to the agency someday, hoping to get back to doing his usual research.

"H-Hm, so like I'm part of the agency now again?" He asked confused. "By the way, inviting a Landra to be a pilot? This is crazy, we don't have neural energy''

''You have. I can't give you more information, but we have hard evidence that you're a Landra wielding neural energy, which is extremely impressive.'' The man was still smiling, it was impossible to tell if he was forced or not.

''Anyway, here it is.'' The man took his hand out of his pocket, pocket of which an enveloped letter with some gold trim lay.

''Well thats it, we met on the 18th then. See you there!'' He said, nodding to Quagmire who was still frozen in front of his door, just in his pajamas.

''That's certainly interesting.'' He closed the door just as he opened the letter.

[Dear Mr Quagmire Vortfort. It is with great pleasure that I inform you that you have a place reserved at the pilot academy of the Seed Agency. We will be sending you the necessary books and equipment, as well as the meeting location shortly. The school year starts on March 18th, we will be looking forward to your presence, good luck.]

''They hardly know what awaits them.'' That night, Quagmire couldn't fall asleep anymore, it wasn't clear whether it was out of excitement or some other feeling.

"Finally a new chance." The boy smiled and spent the rest of the night thinking about what he would do. In his mind, the only sure thing was that he shouldn't stand out too much, formulating various plans for the future that awaited him.