Blackout Part 1

Vas woke up to the smell of smoke, his body hurting in places he couldn’t immediately name. Every muscle stiff and hurting as if he’d spent the night fighting. Maybe he had. His head throbbed, and felt like it was filled with soggy cotton.

It took a second for him to put it all together before he jerked up. Not sure where that came from, just, something told him to wake the fuck up. He blinked, rubbing his throbbing head as he looked around. Vas made a face wobbling to his feet.

His hand automatically patted himself down. King or auto pilot. His brain took a second to catch up. Right. Asses. And inventory. That was it. Was he hurt? What did he have on him?

“I thought you were dead,” a girl’s voice said, matter of fact. She sat on the ground, holding one of his boots.

Vas quickly spun to face the voice. Hand reaching for his holster. He had the gun drawn before he realized it.

Serena gripped the boot like a security blanket, freezing at the sight of the gun, shrinking back.

Vas looked at the girl. Then the boot. Then his bootless foot. “Is that my boot.” He accused.

Serena shook her head no, her pigtails flailing with the action. “No,” she said quickly.

“You have my boot.” Vas said in a firm flat voice.

“You have my boot,” she countered, this time shaking her head yes as she pointed to his foot..

“It’s on my damn foot. That’s my boot on my foot and my boot you got.” Vas said, eyes narrowing. “Give. It. Back.”

“Or,” she rationalized, “you put your damn foot in my boot.” She told him. “On account of this one is is in my arms. An’ one boot is not of use to you, so maybe you should give that one to me.”

Vas pulled the hammer back on his gun. “One. My boot. Give it. Two. If you think I would have problem shooting you over a boot … consider that I might not.”

“You’re a Jagg,” she reminded him. “And Jagg’s aren’t supposed to shoot without possible cause.”

“Do I look like a Jagg.” Vas stated. Though … no .. he wasn't. He had this instant gut reaction of wanting to throw something at the kid's head for even insinuating that.

“Yes, on account of this is literally a Jackboot,” she said, “An’ that’s mostly why you get called Jaggs. I never seen one of you with black eyes though, I mean, ‘cept for the ones that come after Mathias punches you in one, or once, both. Are you…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “meta? Jagg’s don’t like metas. Don’t worry I won’t tell no one.”

“That is not a Jackboot it's my boot and I ain't a Jagg not gimi my damn boot already!” Vas sapped. “And no I aint a meta … “ Though he paused, not entirely sure. He felt like there should be an asterisk next to his statement.

“You’re dressed like a jagg, an’ you look like a meta,” she told him. “Is that how you’re hiding from them? It’s okay. I won’t tell. But you should use these…” She rummaged through the backpack beside her, and pulled a pair of mirrored sunglasses with the tag still attached. “You can have ‘em,” she offered.

Vas paused the gun, lowering a fraction. “I rather my boot … “ Though he was considering the sunglasses. His eyes were normal to him but … the kid unfortunately was making a good point.

Serena looked to him, then back to the boot one more time, and reluctantly held the prized boot out to him. “Okay, but if you do die, I have dibs.” she told him.

The gun lowered. “Deal.” He agreed, finally holstering the gun. Vas held out his hand to be given the boot.