The Debtor Rehabilitation System is the backbone of the Solar economy. Much of the labor in the light industry and service sectors come from the so called ‘Dets’. A person can become a Det in several ways, through sentencing, failure to serve, or medical expenses. Most people become dets through normal human vises, such as gambling, alcoholism, or bankruptcy. The system allows those less fortunate to get back on their feet while being provided with a guaranteed job and housing. Overall, it is a very good system and has many success stories year after year. Unfortunately, most of the other islands don’t follow this practice. Instead, these other islands try to ‘fix’ their less fortunate by overfunding social systems that inevitably bloat and fail.


    -A History of the Great Islands, Fourth Edition. Chapter 6, The Solar Empire


    Finric awoke to the sound of coughing. He felt a familiar arm around his chest, holding him down. Sanson was curled up next to him under their blanket. He really didn’t want to wake her, so he just laid where he was, ignoring his need to stretch. Eventually, he would have to get up. His status as the barrack’s resident doctor demanded it. Sanson woke up soon afterwards however. He sighed, and began running his fingers across the scales on her head. Sleepily, she smiled and whispered “How long have you been up?”


    Finric shrugged.  “Long enough to really need to go to the bathroom” He signed.


    She giggled and clutched him closer.


    “Do you have work today?” Finric asked her, his fingers began scratching at the base of her neck. She was ticklish there, and she giggled again and swatted his hand away.


    “No, just a training match with Dolgra.”


    “Go easy on her. I''m growing tired of patching her bruises.”


    She smiled into his neck. “I will.”


    Sanson was his best friend in the entire world, and more than that, she was someone Finric could trust implicitly. He reminded himself of that. She trusted him. She would understand. He figured now was as good a time as any to tell her. Just as he gathered his courage, he heard Sanson sigh.


    “I have something to tell you.” She said, still buried in his neck. The tiny scales pressed against his face were smooth and cool.


    He made a questioning grunt, and she shook her head.


    “Not right now. It''s too perfect.”


    He pushed on her slightly, and she drew her head back, enough to read his hand.


    “How important is it?”


    She thought about it for a moment. “Important enough”


    “You don’t have to”


    “No, you deserve to know.” She said, burying herself in his neck again.


    Finric waited for her to gather her thoughts. She tensed, and Finric felt the sharp points of her claws dig into his back.


    He tried not to react. Whenever she was running high on some sort of emotion, her claws tended to come out. He wasn’t really supposed to talk about it. She got incredibly uncomfortable whenever someone commented on one of her more exotic features.


    “I''m sorry” She whispered. Removing her hands from his back and moving away from him. She sat up on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms and hunching over slightly.


    He reached out, but felt her cringe back. He sighed. Moving over next to her, he brought his hand up to her chin, and lifted it until her white eyes were staring into his green one.


    “It''s alright. Don’t tell me today, it''s obviously not something you want to talk about.” He signed deliberately, making sure she could see it.


    He could practically see her light up.


    “Okay” She said, voice still small, but more happy than before.


    She hugged him quickly, and he had to force himself not to jump. She didn’t notice, and they collapsed backwards onto the bed. He ended up on his side, her massive arms hugging him close like a damn teddybear.


    He sighed, and went back to scratching the scales on her back. Luckily, they had their own room. She could afford to be affectionate. Sanson had earned it about a year ago after winning the First spot. They had grown used to the privacy and security it offered.  Their room was tiny, barely big enough for a bed and a small wardrobe. It was lit with a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a thin wire. The metal walls were decorated with intricate carvings, courtesy of Sanson’s claws. The carvings were often random shapes or patterns, but sometimes wove themselves into an image. His favorite carving depicted a ship emerging from the swirling mists. He caught himself sometimes staring at the bold lines of the magnificent craft.


    His eyes drifted down below to the ship to the oldest carving in the room. It depicted a house on a hill somewhere, surrounded by trees. The hill itself was just the barest hint of an outline, with what might have been a tree arching protectively over the house. In contrast, the house itself had been done in breathtaking detail, swooping arches and open windows. The barest hint of color had been rubbed into the metal, shallow greens and blues. Sanson’s name had been carved above the house, and Firnic had put his name next to hers in shaky handwriting. A promise made, a shared dream to be together, regardless of what may happen. Because as long as they had eachother, nothing could truly hurt.


    Finric extracted himself from Sanson’s arms. She rolled over and mumbled something. Finric pressed his lips to her muscled arm momentarily, and then got out of the small bed. She was adorable, all snuggled up in the covers. Most people would not call the 2 meter tall demigen with titanium claws and a deadlift of nine hundred kilograms adorable. But then again, Finric was not most people.


    Sanson was a Hybrid, specifically of the draconic variety. Very little of the hybrid race still lived, many had been lost after the fall of Cassiopea, their old home island. Hybrids, while sharing many characterizes of the animal that their sub-species was named after, resembled more human than animal. As such, Sanson’s tilted eyes, black scales, and tiny horns were her most distinguishing features that set her apart from most humans. Sanson was unique, even among hybrids, as she was a Demigen, which in of itself, was even rarer than even a hybrid.


    Finric stood up. Sanson was snoring happily again, and would probably not notice if he went to the bathroom for a moment.


    Finric grabbed the walking stick from where it was set along the wall. Groaning, he used it to lever himself up. As usual, his right leg refused to cooperate. Rubbing sleep from his eye, he shuffled off to the bathroom. While inside, he scratched under the metal band that went around his left ankle. Marked on it was stylized image of a rose, curled around a gallon coin, thorns dripping with blood. After relieving himself, he made his way back into the bedroom. Sanson sat up as he entered. Her scaled head almost touched the damn ceiling.


    “Thought you had left” She said


    “And leave you in bed? Never.”


    Finric got into the bed, sitting down next to her.


    “I have to get to work now.”


    She frowned.


    Finric felt the bed lurch as she got out.


    “Me too. I''ll guide you?”


    “If you want to”


    They spent a few minutes getting ready. Finric put on his steel toed boots and grabbed his bag. He made sure his pendant was still around his neck and leaned on his walking stick. Sanson was taking him, but he liked to take walks occasionally through the hallways. He would need the stick to go anywhere without her.  Once Sanson was ready she started helping him walk down the hallway. He could make the way on his own, and he would have preferred to. He reminded himself that she liked to do it, and he liked it when she was happy.


    They passed through the barracks. The walls were all metal. Splotches of rust grew in the corners and in spots on the wall where the wire brushes couldn’t get to. The bare hallways were lit with electric lights strung along the ceiling as if in afterthought. Sanson waved greetings to the people they encountered, and some responded. Their house held around 50 people. Most were cluttered inside the barracks, but a few lucky ones, like Sanson, got their own rooms. The barracks were almost empty. Everyone was out working on getting the arena prepared.


    They reached an intersection of the drab metal corridors. Finric stopped walking when he saw an older man scrubbing the floor with a wire brush. Sanson pulled at his arm, but as soon as she saw what he was doing, she stopped with a small sigh. Finric knelt down and tapped Krist on the shoulder. His long white hair was stringy and falling out in several places. Stained pink bandages decorated his bare arms and legs. Krist looked up and swiveled his head around, it was a reflex. The man’s eyes were gone, Finric had taken them out himself along with a large portion of the man’s face and throat after the MetalPlauge had gotten its vile hooks in. Finric’s fingers danced along the man’s shoulder in a sequence of long and short taps.


    “Any new growths?”


    What was left of the man’s mouth curled up into a pained smile. He shook his head and blindly reached out his hand to Finric, who guided it to land on his own shoulder. The old sailor tapped his fingers in sequence on Finric’s shoulder. Though his hands were slow, the message still came across.


    “Nothing, today, Thank, friend.”


    Finric nodded, though he blushed afterwards. It wasn’t as if the man could see it.


    “Let me know if any show up”


    Krist nodded his own head and bent back down to the floor. He continued running his fingers along it, feeling out for rusted spots.


    Finric remained kneeling for a moment. Just a few short months ago, the man had been the picture of health. Unfortunately, the metalplauge did not discriminate based on immune system status. After he had taken the Krist’s sight and voice, Finric had been at a loss as how to communicate with the man. Luckily, Krist had been a sailor in a past life, and the old blind suit codes provided a solution.


    Sanson coughed slightly, and Finric started to stand, using his cane to lever himself up. Sanson quickly grabbed his arm and helped him up. She started leading him away from the man on the floor. She didn’t say anything, though he could tell she was annoyed. Finric tapped her on the shoulder and signed question. She blew a breath out of her nostrils.


    “I just don’t know why you spend time on him. He’s used up much of your bandages and painkillers. Those all could have gone to people that are expected to survive the year.”


    Finric frowned. “There will always be more bandages and painkillers.”


    Sanson snorted. “yeah, but the more will be coming out of your pay which you could be using to pay off your Debt.”


    Finric let the conversation drop. He didn’t want to argue with her this early in the morning. He didn’t want to argue with her at all.


    Eventually they were through the barracks and into the working areas of the complex. He could perceive sounds and smells that mixed to an almost overwhelming degree. Sanson directed him to the cafeteria, saying to him quietly. “Common we need to eat something.” Finric normally ate in the quiet of his office, but he learned long ago that when Sanson got her mind set on something, she wouldn’t let it go easily.


    The cafeteria had provably looked decent when it had been constructed, well over forty years ago, but now it was a horrid mess of rusty metal and squeaky tables. The floor was greasy, and stained in several places by unidentifiable liquids. Each table was different, and most looked like they had been taken from a scrapyard after being thrown away for being too dangerous to be around normal people.


    They sat down at one of the metal tables. It was eggs, porridge and some unidentifiable meat today. He had taken only a bowl, while Sanson had filled her tray with enough for a small family. It cost her a decent chunk of money to eat like she did, but she could definitely afford it. Halfway through their breakfast, Victor and Cameron sat at the table across from them.


    Victor was also Demigen, but he was less muscular than Sanson. More wiry and quick than strong and overpowering. His Home Island was Altiar, how he had ended up all the way in Solar, Finric had no idea. His uncommon heritage made his skin extremely dark, and his eyes light colored, with barely a hint of a pupil. He had a trimmed full beard with slicked back hair and a suit that made him look like he was dining in a fancy banquet hall, not a Detter cafeteria. The boy was a sharp contrast to the man beside him, much shorter, he had shaggy blonde hair that went down to his shoulders. His pale face was youthful, but his eyes were always searching.  Victor was a relatively new arrival. He had been brought to the House about three years ago, and in that time had built up a substantial reputation as a fighter who rarely lost.


    “How did you sleep Finric?”


    Victor was looking at him over the rim of his cup, probably noticing his red rimmed eyes and crow’s feet.


    “I got woken up to treat Violet. A client of hers got rough and she needed stitches.” He signed.


    Victor’s normally pleasant face turned to a scowl faster than an ice cube melting in Highscar.


    “Violet got Hurt?” He said, setting his cup to the table and doing up his coat, as if he was planning to get up and leave.


    Finric raised a placating hand. “She is going to be fine, the cut was on her arm, not her face thank the progin. She can still work as soon as it heals.”


    Victor still looked angry, but he sat down and started angrily shoveling down eggs.


    “Shes still goanna get a week deeper into the hole. Who’s the fucker that did it?” He asked


    Finric grimaced. “Some blooded of house Jupiter, a cousin, I think. He has had problems in the past. Luckily Summers was there to pull him off of her before he could do anything really nasty”


    His eyes widened. “Summers acted against a nephew of house Jupiter?”The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Finric nodded.


    Victor blew out his cheeks and sat back in his chair. Sanson was staring into her oatmeal with a look of disgust on her face, but if it was for his story of the food he could not tell.


    “Bet the master wasn’t happy. One of his own guards actin against a house blood, he musta gotten punished or somthin.”


    “The blooded was heavily drunk, and probably didn’t notice. In any case, Summers brought her directly to me and hightailed it out of there.”


    Victor laughed. “How much do you think he likes her?”


    Finric shook his head and shrugged. “No idea, but him helping her out of a bad situation for any reason is a good in my book.”


    Not much else was said over the course of the breakfast. They each had fights to prepare for, and Finric had their injuries to ready his clinic for. Sanson and Finric finished first, and they got up to leave. Victor gave them a parting wave and said with a grin. “Im sure ill see you at some point today Doc.”


    Finric waved back and responded, “If its anything like that fight with the Ravager, im afraid ill have to charge you double.”


    Victor waved his hand, unconcerned. “Nothing like that, just a barred fight with a uppity kid from down south. Ill make sure not to break my sword in the first five minutes this time.”


    Finric laughed, and let Sanson drag him off.


    Twenty minutes later and they reached his office. With hands that were only slightly shaking, Finric unlocked the door with a key he drew from his pocket. They went inside. The office was located right next to the entrance to the Cage. Finric could smell the acidic cleaning solution they used on the floor. It always made his stomach turn, and his head fill with thoughts of blood and violence. As the smell filled his nostrils, a memory flashed through his head.


    “I lunge forward, the hammer held softly in my hand, the crowd roaring. The man in front of me is scared, and that makes him weak. He tries to block, but turns his body the wrong way. instead of his arm, the point slides right into his-“


    “Finric?”


    Sanson was asking him something. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the memory. It took a moment to get his hands to stop shaking, and when they finally did, he signed “Im sorry, I didn’t hear you.”


    “I was just asking if you needed anything before I left?”


    Finric shook his head. As she was leaving, her hand brushed across his shoulder affectionately.


    He jolted, but she was already outside the door.


    He waited until she was down the hallway before he shut it.


    His medical textbooks called it shell shock. Finric had never been in a war, but he imagined some of the same symptoms applies.


    Either way, it was not something he could afford right now. Work took precedence. It wasn’t like he could talk about it to Sanson. He would hate to burden her with more than she already had.


    He thoroughly cleaned his hands, and started his inventory process. In order for him to work properly, everything had to be exactly where it should be. Sometimes people broke in here, looking for narcotics and the like. Finric couldn’t afford anything like that. They still tried anyway.  The room was relatively large. Enough room for a decently sized counter that ran along the outside of the room with an operating table in the center. The metal that made up the room was meticulously cleaned. Finric spent a large majority of his time ensuring that.


    Everything seemed to be in order. Finric nodded, and went to the door. He turned a dial on the inside all the way to the right, and felt a click. He knew, in the hallway outside, a green light had just flickered to life.


    Finric sat down, and pulled out one of his newer medical textbooks. They were of high quality, and that usually cost a lot of money, much more than a Det could normally afford, but he had a deal with a bookseller in the market. Her kid was sick with a very benign form of the metalplague. Finric cut pieces out of the kid once a month and in exchange the bookseller got him some textbooks on the cheap. After opening it to the correct page, he sat down and started reading. He dreaded when his door would open next.


    He passed the time reading his books, and cleaning everywhere he could reach. He paid special attention to his operating table and the equipment there. His process was efficient and practiced. After an hour or so he heard the muffled talking of the crowd overhead. He sighed, and started getting ready. The crowd began shouting. The master wouldn’t open the night with an extremely bloody match, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. The announcer called the start of the match, and the crowd screamed its delight. Each match could last anywhere from a minute to hours. Every time a match ended, Finric waited for the inevitable knocking. The fourth match opened normally enough. It was Victor against someone from another city. Finric heard the crowd scream and clap. The newcomer seemed sure of himself. The announcer introduced him as ‘undefeated’. The match began. The crowd was quiet. He could vaguely hear the taunts coming from the new fighter. As always, Victor was silent. The crowd didn’t watch him for his silence however, they watched him for the blood he left along the ground. Finric heard the ring of swords. Once, Twice, and then a third time. The newcomer had stopped talking. There was a sharp ring, and the sound of a sword clattering against the metal floor. Finric immediately grabbed his suture kit. The crowd was silent for a moment, as if in disbelief, but then they went ballistic. They liked the fight. Victor was good at giving them what they wanted.


    A few moments later, the door slammed open and the newcomer was ushered into Finric’s office. He was incredibly tall and lanky. A Centauri then. His reach would normally serve him well in a fight, but Victor had some of his own advantages. The man was groaning in pain as his companion carried him to the operating table. He had a shorter build, with long red hair that cascaded down his back. He set the injured Centauri on the table and turned to Finric. “Please save him. I don’t have any money but-“ He cut off as Finric pointed at the back left corner of the room. The man looked at the foot shaped outlines that were painted on the floor.


    “But I want to-“


    Finric moved his hand up, and pointed to the sign on the wall.


    It read in big bold letters ,


    ONLY ONE VISITOR ALLOWED AT A TIME. THE VISITOR MUST STAND IN THE DESIGNATED SPOT AND NOT DISTURB THE SURGEON.


    DISTURBING THE SURGEON WILL RESULT IN REMOVAL FROM THE OFFICE.


    The redhead sighed, and moved to the corner.


    Finric got to work. The Centauri wasn’t in his house, but he would do his best to save him. His leg pained him, so he used his cane to get to the table. First, he placed a biteguard into the man’s mouth. Then he began to run his hands over the man’s injuries. He noted the placement of the wound, and its depth. A picture started to form in his mind’s eye. He could see the path the sword took when it entered the man’s abdomen. See what it cut along the way. Feeling around the man’s back, the picture was completed with the exit wound. Both sides were still dribbling out blood, but its flow had slowed. Nodding, he began to disinfect and clean the wound on the man’s chest. He used pure alcohol, and when he placed it against the wound, the Centauri spasmed and cried out in pain. The person in the corner of the room started to move, and Finric pointed at the sign again viciously. The redhead moved back to the painted foot shaped outlines. Grimly, Finric got the suture kit out and started sewing the wound shut. In his mind he could see the placement of the stitches, and the correct location where he should place the needle. The decade of practice he had at this helped guide his hand.  His hands never shook when he was saving someone’s life.


    After about ten minutes, he was finished. The man in the corner was silent for the entire process, only moving jerkily when the injured one made a particularly violent sound of pain. Finric stepped back and dropped his needle in a vat of cleaning solution. After that, he reached into a cabinet and pulled out a sign. He placed it on the table.


    Is the patient Demigen? The sign read.


    The man in the corner read it and shook his head.. “No, he’s Human.”


    Finric nodded, and put the sign back.


    “I don’t know how to thank you” He said, rushing to the Centauri on the table. Finric remained silent as he inspected the stitches.


    “This is excellent work. Where did you learn to do this?”


    Finric shrugged, and opened a cabinet, pulling out yet another sign. He placed it on the table, and the man laughed.


    This one read, COURTESY OF HOUSE VENUS, OUTSIDER FIGHTER HEALING IS FREE. THE ONLY ADDITIONAL PRICE THE SURGON DEMANDS IS TO CLEAN THE FLOOR.


    “If that is the price, then very well.”


    The man began cleaning the floor with the provided mop, and Finric went to his friend who was sitting up on the table. The tall man was shaking his head, obviously still in pain.


    “Never thought I’d lose a fight that badly”


    The man with the mop grunted.


    “That was their champion, you''re lucky you have all your appendages still attached.”


    Finric grunted in laughter.


    Both men looked at him, confused.


    Quickly Finric grabbed a wax pen from his shirt pocket and wrote onto the counter in his scratchy handwriting.


    ‘Not the Champion’


    Both men read the message and then exchanged looks of amazement.


    “If that wasn’t the champion” One of them said quietly. “Who is?”


    A deep laugh sounded behind them, and both men turned suddenly to see Sanson standing in the hallway, bending down slightly to allow her ridiculous frame through the door.


    “That would be me,” She said, grinning wildly. Her sharpened fangs gleamed in the light of the solitary bulb.


    The blood drained from both of their faces as they both looked the draconic woman up and down. They exchanged looks with each other, and then looked away quickly. The redheaded one picked up his pace in cleaning the floor, while the Centauri suddenly grew very interested in his sutures.


    Sanson walked over to Finric. He smiled up at her and began to put his things away.


    “How is it going in here?” She asked, leaning up against the counter. Something was wrong. He could tell it in the way her voice sounded and the way her claws gleamed in the light. He shrugged.


    “Only one so far, Victor went easy on the man. It should heal up within a week.”


    “That’s good. Uh. Did you do anything fun besides work?” She was fidgeting with something. Probably one of his tools. He turned around. The two outsiders were still in his office, though the short one was still cleaning. They were not so obviously listening.


    “What do you need?”


    She looked down at her knees, embarrassed.


    “I ran out of pills again.”


    He sighed. This wasn’t what she was nervous about, but distracting herself helped sometimes. Finric went to a cabinet and started rummaging around.


    “I swear I run through those so fast.” She muttered.


    Finric grabbed a large case out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. He opened it up, and grabbed the diamond tipped needle from its pouch.


    “Might as well test your levels” He signed.


    She nodded, and meekly held out a arm for him.


    It was quite a picture. The extremely tall, inanely muscular dragonkin woman holding her hand out with a pose of someone who was in the principal’s office about to be yelled at.


    He pushed the needle to a vein, and drew a small amount of blood from her arm. The dark red liquid came out reluctantly, as if it was offended at being required to leave the body. He got enough, and took the needle out. The wound closed up almost instantly. He turned around and moved back to the pouch. From it, he drew a roll of testing strips. Each one was about 2 inches long, and had ten symbols printed along its length. He tore off a strip, and put the needle to the paper. The blood inside it was already turning black. Slowly, he placed a drop of blood on each symbol. After letting the strip set for a moment, he examined it.


    “Low on Titanium, Gold, Silicon, and Tungsten.” He looked up at her. “As usual”


    She shrugged her shoulders.


    “Not my fault your pills are shitty knock offs” She said, grinning.


    He smiled and placed the strip and needle on the counter. A raised middle finger was his only reply.


    Finric reached into the case and pulled out several bottles. Each one contained a differently sized pill. He counted out two of each and handed them over to Sanson.


    Grimacing, she went over to the sink, and started to take them. Each of the pills were filled with a different type of metal coated in carbon dust. The metal was to replenish her levels, but the carbon dust was always required. Sanson was a Demigen. She was stronger, faster, and better than normal humans in almost every single way. The only downside was the enormous amount of metal that they required to function on a regular basis. Finric was glad that she wasn’t still growing. If she was, she would easily require ten times the amount of metal she had just consumed daily.


    The two others finally left, and Finric put the mop back in its spot. When he turned, she was leaning against the counter again, nervously twisting her shirt between her hands.


    He walked up to her and reached out with both arms. Eagerly she released her shirt and drew him into a tight hug.


    “I''ll be going up next.” She said tensely.


    This must be an important fight then. She sometimes got nervous before a fight where there were real stakes involved. Why the gigantic Demigen of all people would be nervous about anything, Finric had no idea.


    “The master said that he wants you in the box during the match.”


    Finric froze in her arms.


    And there was the real reason. If Sanson got nervous before a fight, it was nothing compared to when Finric was with the master.


    He tapped her on the shoulder, and she let him go. Wordlessly, she watched him as he limped his way over to the single chair in the room. With a huff, he sat down.


    “When is it?”


    She signed. “After Victor’s next fight.”


    “Do you know why?”


    She shook her head.


    Finric let himself slump into the chair. He found himself staring at his hands. The scars covering them blurred as tears filled his eyes. He hated the cage. He hated the box even more. Being in there meant that he was forced to watch as one of his friends was mutilated. Not to mention that while in the box, he would be under the constant scrutiny of the master.


    He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. Finric was okay with touch generally. He just preferred to have warning beforehand.


    He looked up. Sanson’s eyes were filled with concern. Her hand squeezed his shoulder. Finric breathed in deeply, and placed his hand over hers. They stayed like that for a moment. Finric could tell the half bent over position was playing hell on her back, so he soon got up. He nodded to her and signed “Good luck. Don’t go soft on my account”


    She grinned, a touch viciously. “You know I never go soft on an opponent.”


    Finric nodded. And she withdrew from the room. Finric went over to the abandoned pill container on the counter. He shook out a pill from all ten bottles and started taking them mechanically. Even though Finric wasn’t Demigen, the master made him take the pills regardless. He would ask, and Finric learned from personal experience to never lie to the Master. An indeterminate amount of time later, the two outsiders left the room. The floor was not entirely clean, and Finric set himself onto cleaning the few spots left.


    After the fifth match, Finric’s door slammed open again. This time, it was Victor himself that had been injured. He limped along, being helped into the room by a Cameron. Victor was in the middle of telling Cam a story about one of his past matches.


    “I don’t know what he meant by that, but he sure didn’t like it when I stabbed him!”


    Finric shook his head. Cameron laughed, but Finric could tell the boy didn’t really get the joke. It wasn’t very funny anyway. Victor often told the story when he was in a lot of pain and trying to sound tough.


    After helping Victor to the table, Cameron went to stand in the corner automatically. Finric grinned. The boy had been here enough times to know that standing anywhere else in the room would just make Finric mess up.


    Finric turned to victor. “In the leg again Victor?”


    The man grinned slightly. “I can''t help it! They really like my legs!”


    “One would assume that they hated your legs because they keep trying to poke holes in them”


    “Bah, just plug the hole you quack”


    Finric quickly got to work. It wasn’t a bad wound, though it happened to be in a particularly annoying place. Victor reached into his pocket and drew something from it. Almost unconsciously, he started petting it with his thumb, his fingers curled around it protectively. Though Finric couldn’t see it, he knew what it was. When Victor had first become a det, he brought his son with him. He tried his best to protect him, but the cage was merciless. The boy had only lasted a few weeks. All Victor had left of his son was the boy’s favorite toy. A very small cloth dog.


    “How many times have you been stabbed Mister Victor?” Cameron asked suddenly.


    Victor half turned around, but stopped with a grunt of surprise as Finric slapped him on the kneecap.


    “Sorry about that.” He faced forward again, but kept talking to the boy.


    “I''d say around thirty or forty?”


    “That’s a lot of times” The boy said, Looking at the scars on Victor’s back.


    “Aye, it is.”


    “What’s it like to be a fighter?” The boy asked, unprompted.


    Victor took a moment before he responded. “It''s not all glory like they talk about. Sure, there’s a rush. Sure you get the crowd yelling for more. And sure, you get money. But all it comes down to in the end is two scared people with a sharp thing trying their best to hurt the other one.” His voice quieted slightly. “And some people get hurt more than others.”


    The boy considered his words for longer than usual. He looked to Finric, eying his scars. “Was Mister Finric a fighter?”


    “He can hear ya lad. He''s mute, not dumb. No use talking about him like he''s not there.”


    “Oh.” The boy paused. “I''m sorry Mister Finric.”


    Finric finished his stitches, and stood up. He nodded to Cameron and flashed a quick series of hand movements.


    “He says that’s alright, and he accepts your apology.”


    Finric turned to begin cleaning off his tools. His cleaning basin was slightly off center from where it should be, so he adjusted it slightly.


    “As for whether or not he was a fighter, That’s not my story to tell. Ask him one day, and he might tell you.”


    The boy seemed satisfied with the answer.


    Finric got out his pill case from the cabinet, but Victor shook his head.


    “I got my own doc”


    Finric nodded, and put the case back. He turned to Victor and carefully signed “Be sure to take more than normal. Your body needs material to replace what was lost.”


    Victor got off of the table with a grunt of pain. Carefully, he put the toy away in his pocket.


    “I will Doc. And lots of water too!”


    Finric smiled, nodding his agreement.


    “I have a brace of Cartus weed for payment. I just have to get it.” Victor said, walking toward the door and doing up his shirt. Finric stopped him.


    “No need. We are even now.”


    Victor stopped doing up his shirt.


    “What did I do again?”


    “Last week when you brought Elliot to me. You sat there the entire time and helped her not be scared. I appreciate it.”


    “Ah, I remember now. For having a spear stuck in her, the lass was remarkably calm the whole time.”


    “I''m pretty sure that was because you kept distracting her with terrible one liners.”


    Victor laughed heartily. ”Thanks again doc. I''ll see you again at some point tonight I’m sure.”


    Finric waved, and they both left the room.


    As they were walking down the hallway, Finric could hear Cameron asking more questions.


    He shut the door, shaking his hand in amusement. Boys and their idols. Finric felt an odd pang of something work its way through his chest. Aside from Sanson, Victor was the only one who had bothered to learn sign language. To everyone else in the house, Finric was just the crippled doctor who stitched you up or gave you pills on the cheap.


    Finric looked toward the door. Outside, up in the VIP box, was the Unknown. Whatever the master had planned for him, it was not going to be easy. It never was. Finric just hoped he came out intact this time.