Firstborn of the Frontier

Book Three - Chapter 137


"This your work? What's your game here?"

Despite the red-hot rage surging through my veins, I can't help but admire Jinfeng's calm and collected demeanor as I loom over her slender frame, seated cross-legged on the floor of the shack with hands folded in her lap in apparent meditation. What I don't admire is her duplicitous nature, because she got senses sharp enough to look me in the eyes with a blindfold on, so she ain't fooling no one by pretending she didn't hear me coming. To say nothing of the horde of angry Abby screeching up a storm all around the mesa, which would make anyone nervous no matter what sort of training they got. Instead of making ready for my arrival though, she chose to stay seated and make it look like I done disturbed her meditation in a ploy to appeal to my well-mannered nature. Wants me to feel bad for coming in all heated, which lets her take the upper hand in our conversations, a tactic I seen Aunty Ray use often enough to know how it works, though I still don't know how to get around it.

Unfortunately for Jinfeng, I got no qualms about not living up to her expectations, so I draw my Model 10 and cock the hammer for extra effect. Been doing it too often of late without following through, so it comes as no surprise when the girl don't even blink much less glance at my gun. Just gives me a cool look with unwavering eye contact that makes me uncomfortable to match, though I do it all the same. Jinfeng has got a pair of gorgeous brown eyes, big and round and double lidded which sit so well above her high cheekbones that sorta melts into the rest of her rounded face. Too pretty by far, until you factor in her steely and foreboding expression, like she staring at something particularly unpleasant and don't care much to hide it.

Irks me to no end it does, not because I care about what she thinks about me, but because her stony exterior reminds me too much of my daddy's micro-expressions, all the subtle ways he'd smile, frown, or otherwise show emotion that most people don't pick up on. Jinfeng is the same way, which ain't to say all Qin are like that since Who Sheng and his big sister Who Dieh both wore their emotions on their sleeves, and the same could be said of sword boy whose name I done forgot. Fact is, Jinfeng the only one like that, and it burns me that I didn't notice beforehand and figure out it was her in disguise.

Kept telling myself it was strange for the kid to go from fiery red hot to ice cold with little more than a word from his commanding officer, but I figured it was just ingrained discipline and blind obedience, not some Qinese secret body-modification technique that borders on the magical without actually being real magic. Magic adjacent at most, which is interesting to be sure, but my daddy told me that Qin Battle Monks dedicate their whole lives to mastering their body, and I never found that all too appealing. So what if you got skin like bronze and bones like jade? Soft metal and brittle rocks will still break when hit by a Bolt, so it seems like a whole lot of work just to die a little bit harder.

Much as I'd like to prove the futility of her training methods, shooting a helpless girl dead for no real reason is too much even for me, though I'll do it without batting an eye if I find out she got something to do with all this. Last I saw her cadre they was all headed south for home, but it ain't like it would've been all that difficult for them to double back around and trail us to the mesa, or even up to the top of the ramp leading out of the Divide. They'd have to take a wide loop and do their damnedest to avoid Abby after riling them all up, but short of a military incursion dropping nearby, I don't see what could have them Feral Bugs all riled up like this. The cacophony of chittering screeches echo off the steep walls and make it sound like there are thousands just waiting outside the mesa, but they're mostly passing by on their way up to ground level. Ain't a single one of the Alarm Wards gone off just yet, and even if they do, it don't mean Abby making their way towards us. It's nerve wracking to behold though, as there ain't nothing natural about the sounds they make, all clittering clacks, sibilant squeals, and howling hisses that cut to the quick no matter how many times you hear it.

Been awake all of five minutes to do a quick check of our defenses, and I'm ready to tear my hair out with both hands, yet Jinfeng here looks all unbothered as she sits in quiet meditation like she's in some Zen garden with water fountains and birdsongs for ambiance instead of sitting in a shabby shack surrounded by hostile Abby and people on all sides. Seeing it infuriates me all the more, because either she was expecting shit to go down like this or she got nerves of steel to which I can't compare, and I don't much like either option for reasons that should be obvious.

And as if to irk me by going with the more frustrating option, the girlie hits me with a subtly scornful look and asks, "How might I benefit by isolating myself here with you while yao guai rampage all around us?"

Cuts the legs right out from under my accusation, which annoys me to no end and proves that she's just built different. If I was in her shoes and a prisoner in this situation, I'd be sweating bullets worrying about whether I'm gonna be used as bait to distract Abby so my captors can get away. Or yao guai as she puts it, which is pretty much a rose by any other name, though it's a name that extends beyond Abby. It's also what they call their monsters of folklore, which I always thought had to be Abby too, but in the Qinese stories, some non-Abby Yao Guai were plants or animals that learned to take on human form and join hands with us against Abby.

Which sounds ridiculous, except for the fact that the Qin Immortal Monarch was supposedly taught by one such Yao Guai, a humanoid fox spirit descended from Su Da Ji, the fox-empress who was the alleged calamity of the Shang Dynasty back around 1100 BC. No idea how true that is or if it's just men blaming women for their woes, but old Tian Zi released an autobiography that claimed his teacher was one such inhuman, and I've no idea why he would lie about something like that. Having a Yao Guai for a Mentor wouldn't exactly endear him to the masses, though I suppose he could've made it up to make himself seem like more mysterious and otherworldly. Can't have the world knowing that the Son of Heaven was taught by a mere mortal, or even a plain old Immortal Monarch, so I suppose a shape-shifting fox spirit that took human form would do nicely.

Which is another eye-opening experience I don't much like. Always thought that sort of shapeshifting was just the Second Order Transmutation Spell Alter Self, which I can work around and understand, but apparently they got other ways of transforming. Mysterious, stomach-churning, quasi-magical ways that gets their bones all to popping and cracking when they go from scrawny 13-year-old boy to a less scrawny almost 18-year-old woman without the need for Vocal, Somatic, or Material components, and no Concentration whatsoever. Makes me wonder if she even looks like this natural, or if she cheats to make herself look more fetching. All that bullshit about being willing to 'pay whatever price' to keep her life, something which I'd never ask of a prisoner or this deceitful bitch even if we'd've met under different circumstances, but ever since Aunty Ray brung it up, I just can't stop thinking about Jinfeng in that sort of way.

She ain't even my type. Not emotionally, and most certainly not physically. Let's just say that her transformation was all in height and width, with little to nothing in terms of… depth. You know what I mean? Plus, who wants a pugilistic boxer as their lady love? Women are irrational enough as is, so dating one who can literally box your ears is just asking for trouble.

"I don't know how you might stand to gain," I say, furious to the point of trembling as I clamp down on my Model 10 with a white knuckled grip. "I know this though. If this is your doing, or the doing of your people, then you gonna die long and slow. Believe that girlie, because even if it's the last thing I ever do, I'll put a Bolt in your gut and let you bleed out slow if I find out you done double-crossed me." Scowling up a storm, I lean in close and lower my voice to a low snarl. "And don't you even think about driving a wedge between me and mine by playing the part of pitiful damsel in distress. I'd sooner snuggle up to a Razorscythe than bring you to bed, telescoping meat-straw tongue and all. Would probably be safer too, because them slashing arms ain't got nothin' on your tree trunk legs."

That gets her right heated, with them soft brown eyes going hard and fiery as she matches me glare for glare. "You!" She begins, sputtering as she points at me like she's picking me out of a crowd. "You are to blame for my misunderstanding! You and how you… you…" She spits something out in Qinese, which my ears pick up as, "Wan nu ren," and my brain translates as, "Play (with) women," I guess. Takes a moment to figure out the context, and it leaves me wondering how the Qin knew about me, Josie, and Noora, and how in depth Jinfeng studied the materials before coming out here.

Not enough, else she'd have given herself some more ample curves, or any curves at all besides the ones around her thighs.

"Even a womanizer has got standards," I reply, giving her my best scornful look as I stalk backwards out the door, remembering good and well how much of a menace this round-eyed girl can be. "And you fall far short. If that was your game, you should've sent the other girl, but I suppose we all got our blind spots, now don't we?" That really strikes a nerve, even worse than calling her legs thick, and I can't help be smirk to see it as I close the door to the shed. For a brief moment, I stand there and wonder if she gonna come barrelling out to smack me upside the head, which makes my decision to stay in front of the door a terrible one, but the glaring girlie inside stays frosty aside from the faintest bit of grumbling in barely audible Qinese.

With that, I leave the door unbarred since I don't see no point in securing it. Tina and Aunty Ray will just undo the bindings to chat with the girlie and make a mess of covering it up after the fact, and if things get bad, I don't want no one wasting time freeing Jinfeng when we should be getting gone instead. Plus, if I'm being real honest, she ain't the worst sort to have around in a pinch, so long as I keep her standing between me and Abby. Stupid as it is to fight with your bare fists, I seen enough to know she can handle herself well enough. Better than good really, as I'd hate to go toe to toe with her in any sort of confrontation where I ain't ready and waiting with hand on my gun, because them thick thighs are for more than just show.

…Good god man, stop thinking about her thighs. What in the hell is wrong with you? You don't even like her. Why you keep thinking about her like that?

Easy enough to understand the issue once I really think about it, as I been reeling from loss these last few months and inundated with physical affection this last week. Familial, platonic, and not at all carnal affection, which is great and all, but my stupid caveman brain has trouble telling the difference. Add in the fact that it's been a while since I been with Noora and how much I miss her knowing I won't ever lay with her again, and I've had sex on the brain for a while now, urges which my head is now funnelling towards the only 'appropriate' outlet available. Stupid is what that is, because Jinfeng is so cold my rod and tackle would probably freeze soon as it gets near her, and even if it didn't she'd probably clench at an inopportune time and rip it clean off or something.

…Why does that make her seem more appealing? There definitely something wrong with me, but I'd sooner die than talk to anyone about these sorts of urges.

To distract myself from salacious thoughts of powerful women dominating me in the bedroom, I pour myself into work as per usual, going over all the defenses again to make sure all the Wards and traps are armed and ready to alert and defend us should the worst come to pass. I ain't all that worried though, because if we are attacked, then we can easily get away using Gaseous Form to cross over the gap between the mesa and the cliffs on the north or south side. Long as the defenses keep Abby occupied, then we'll have a good head start to leg it on out of here as best we can. Would mean leaving the horses behind, alongside the wagon, most of our supplies, the Aetheric Condenser, and pretty much everything else to boot, but I'd call that a small price to pay for the lives of me and my family.

Would be real tricky getting Cowie across though. Ain't ever taught him to use potions, and the gap over to the cliffs is much too far to jump even with the Spell on hand. Even a Razorscythe couldn't clear that gap without growing wings first, which is what makes the mesa such a defensible location. It'd be pretty pointless to guard the one path up if Abby could just hop over a slight gap and get at us on top. Still, things ain't come to that just yet, so ain't no reason to fret or go poring through the stupid Spellbook written in Qinese while looking for the Fly Spell and hoping I can learn to prep it in the little time I got to me.

Time which could be better spent getting ready to get gone, which is exactly what I do. Once I'm done checking the defenses, I set to prepping go-bags for all of us, including the unwanted guest in the toolshed. Food, water, and ammo, that's all I pack, because if we gotta use them, then we gonna hafta carry them on our persons while hoofing it out of the badlands. Best to travel light, but that's easier said than done considering how much water a body needs, and doubly so when walking long hours all day. Can reduce that intake with liberal use of Floating Disc, letting 2 people walk while the other three rest, and tree-trunk legs in the shed can probably go all day without needing a break, so there's that. Gotta give myself some reason to keep her around after all, and using her as muscle sounds a whole lot better than emergency bait.

Because when you get right down to it, you don't always have to outrun Abby. Sometimes, all you gotta do is outrun the person beside you, giving Abby something to munch on while you get yourself away.

Ain't a pleasant thought to linger on, but it's the way of the world, and I would bet my entire fortune that more than 75% of the First Wave have done something to that effect in order to make it this far. Abby is a manageable threat when you got stone walls, steel gates, and Aetherarms and ammo aplenty to see them off, but wasn't much of any of that around during the early years on the Frontier. Me and my daddy came across many a battle site in which humanity did not win out against Abby, and it was never a pretty sight, but the stories from the survivors were always more horrific yet. You'd be surprised what folks will confess to in moments of shock, because they done some terrible things and need to get it off of their chests. That sort of guilt will eat away at you from inside, the way it's been eating away at me all year over how I done let Marcus down and killed Conner in cold blood.

Don't ever think much about Wayne though. He deserved to die, but Conner? Him, I still ain't entirely sure. Got no doubt in my mind that he would've turned me in for killing Wayne though, so while it wasn't me or Conner, it's close enough to let me sleep most nights, assuming I can get over letting Marcus down too.

Might well let down the family too, which I doubt I'll ever be able to live down. I don't think I can ever make my peace with what Mr. Ramirez did, taking the easy way out when he still had Josie to look out for, but if I lose my family here, then I won't have no one left to me, so what's to stop me from doing the same? The fear of never seeing any of them up in Heaven I suppose, but with each passing day, I find my already shaky faith receding all the more, because if there is a God, he ain't a kind one to inflict this sort of torment on us all.

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Ain't this just the best birthday ever? Wake up to a chorus of screaming Abby and entertain thoughts of ending it all should the worst come to pass. Honestly? Far as birthdays go, this is only a little worse than previous years which I spent all by my lonesome up here.

Even though it's still early yet, I finish my prep to get gone in a jiffy as there ain't all that much to pack. Then its just a matter of checking all the guns and giving them some tender loving care while I can, which again, don't take much time. With nothing else for it, and not feeling ready for bed, I head on over to my parents' graves to spend some time with them like I do every year. Usually, I wait until after dinner on the day of, because I was born closer to nightfall seeing how that's round about the time when my daddy would've been coming home to find my mama all bloodied and exhausted. I ought to go wake Aunty Ray for her turn at watch too, as I done sent Tina to sleep once I knew I'd be up prepping all the same, but I ain't ready to sleep just yet. Or if I'm being honest, I want to take this time to have a moment alone with my parents, because every year I come up here alone to reminisce. If I'm being real honest, I come here to cry, because this here is the time in which I'm reminded of just how alone and isolated I am.

A fact which has never been more true than today. I still got Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray, but that's it. The Marshal done washed his hands of me, and Tim's busy up in Meadowbrook dealing with the mess I done left him with. Probably ain't none too happy to be stuck up there, because before I went and got Marcus killed, Tim was living easy breezy far as Ranger Captains go. Now he stuck in one of the busiest postings, what with the racial tensions and shared borders with the Métis and Independents up in Meadowbrook. Even though it was supposed to be a temporary thing until they found someone better for the job, Tim's been doing well enough to avoid being replaced, which in army terms means he won't be, because if it ain't broke, won't no one come to fix it. If he don't resent me for Marcus' death, or the whole kerfuffle with the Mafia, then Tim most certainly ain't happy that I got him stuck in a shitty job, which is probably why he turned me down when I asked if he could help bring Tina out to the mesa.

Or he's just a busy Ranger Captain with a lot on his plate, too much to take a holiday and ride out to the mesa with a persona-non-grata like myself. Say what you will about his lackadaisical nature and unruly temperament; Tim Hayes is a military man to the core, and he stands with the Rangers over all else.

Same goes for Uncle Rigsby, who done wrote me off so much that he don't even want me in the Templars no more. He'll 'put in a good word' if I want to work shit jobs for shit pay, but he don't believe I deserve to wear the red cross of martyrdom that they all bear. He didn't say it, but that's what he believes, and that there is the harsh truth that ain't no one can deny. As for Uncle Art? I already done broke his heart with what I done in Brightpick, so won't nothing change if I go away for good. Josie's gone too, and our baby with her, and now Noora's leaving for greener pastures because I can't offer her nothing in the way of happiness, only more doom and gloom to drag her down when she yearns to be free and happy.

Can't really blame her for leaving. I'd want to get away from my gloomy self too, but ain't nowhere I can run.

So aside from Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray, I got nothing and no one, a fact which hits hard as I stand before my parents' graves on this day of my birth. Yesterday was the anniversary of my daddy's death, and today is the anniversary of my mama's, so it's hardly a joyous occasion, but that ain't nothing new really. The loneliness and misery hits harder than normal though, because I been through so much since last I was here, and I don't know how I would face either one of them if I were to meet them in Heaven right now. I done made so many mistakes, forgotten so much of what my daddy taught me, and strayed so far from the path they both dreamed of for me, I don't think I could look either one in the eyes even if they came back to life in the here and now, because I'm terrified that all I'll see is hurt and disappointment.

Because I ain't the Firstborn no more, just a Yellow Devil who done squandered everything my parents sacrificed for me.

Maybe it's the overwhelming fear of disappointing my daddy, or maybe it's all the pressure from the last year compounded by the chorus of Abby singing for death throughout the Divide. Don't know what it is that's gotten over me, but rather than sit in silence like I always do, I can't help but open my mouth to speak. "Hi Daddy," I say, running my fingers over the crudely carved characters of his name chiselled into his headstone. Ah Ming, 阿明, and even as I look upon my handiwork, I hate myself for doing such a piss poor job of it. This is my daddy's gravestone, and I couldn't even get his name on it straight, as the characters are written one over top the other in the style of the Qin, read top to bottom but with an obvious slant where I done fucked it up.

A world of difference from the tender and loving care my daddy put into carving my mama's headstone, with them elegant characters etched into the stone so softly it looks like he done written it out in ink. Zhu Li Na, 朱李娜, with Zhu (朱) being the same character I use for my surname. Ain't normal, taking the name of your mama's family, not even among the Qinese, but it's the only surname my parents had for me, and I think my daddy was happy to have me take after my mama's family. He loved her that much, and was happy she still had a family to hold onto, unlike him who'd thrown it all away because the Republic done told him it was worthless.

And even though I already done greeted my daddy out loud, there's a lump in my throat that keeps me from saying the words I been holding back in my heart, words I ain't ever said for no one, not even Aunty Ray who done raised me like her own. Even with all she done though, I could never give her her due, which makes it all the more difficult to say it in the here and now. Takes me some doing, but eventually, I manage to get the words out in a whisper, one so quiet I barely hear them myself. "Hi Mama."

That right there is enough to get me crying, the simple acknowledgement of the woman who died so that I could live. She's always been my mama, but I ain't ever said it out loud, not even when asking my daddy about her. That's all I ever said, 'her' or 'she', not 'mama', 'mother', or anything else. What was 'her' favourite colour, or what was 'she' like, stuff like that because it never felt real to me. How do I call a woman I ain't never met mama? A woman I killed mind you, as my very first act in this world no less, one I didn't mean to do but bear responsibility for all the same.

Which is why the next words out of my mouth are, "I'm sorry Mama."

It's a good long while before I'm ready to speak again, so I'm glad I'm out here all alone while everyone else is fast asleep. When I finally got the tears under control, I take a deep breath and figure I might as well keep going. I done already gotten over the initial awkward hurdle of greeting my dead parents, so I don't see why I shouldn't say any more. "Sorry it's taken me this long to say something," I whisper, feeling so lost and helpless that I can't help but look away. "Never figured you were listening, and even if you are, it ain't like I got anythin' to say that you won't already know. Unless I dunno, you just hanging around here as ghosts or something, and can only see me when I come visit. Now that I think about it though, that'd be a terrible way to spend eternity, just as bystanders by your grave until your loved ones stop showing up, with no power to do much of anything at all."

Glancing over at the bundle of corpses all strung out on their poles over by the shed, I can't help but purse my lips in muted acceptance. "Can see why they'd be all gung-ho about getting their people buried proper then. Our people I guess, though I ain't ever seen myself as Qin. Probably disappoints the both of you to hear as much, though it can't be much worse than anything else I done since you passed, Daddy." Heaving a sigh, I take off my glove to look at my prosthetic, one I'm so very proud of having made and yet resent all the same, because I shouldn't have need of it. I never should've let myself get into that position, no matter what threats Wayne might well have made or promises he followed through on. I was free and clear of them dead merchants, and wasn't nothing Wayne could've said to change the facts none.

Should've told him to stuff it, or better yet, forced his hand and gunned him down where he stood. Might've cost a few folks their lives if Ron's people were really ready and waiting to take out the Rangers, but in hindsight, I doubt he would've wanted that sort of heat. Man was gearing up to sell chemical explosives to every willing buyer west of the Divide, from national governments to criminal organization or even companies looking to tunnel through the mountain ranges walling us off from the rest of the continent. He wouldn't want the Feds breathing down his neck about a bunch of dead Rangers and boots, not when he was so close to making money hand over fist.

Stupid on my part to go along with things, to tell myself I was protecting the others when they wasn't my responsibility to begin with. Didn't no one thank me for it either, so what the fuck was I doing trying to play the hero?

Then there was the Puglianos. With only the one hand to me, I was too scared to go at them head on, worried I couldn't hack it as I was. And I couldn't, not until I got help from Carter with the Wildshape Ritual for my hand and figured out how to scale the Mage Hand Cantrip to boot. That lack of confidence led to an over-reliance on the government, one I knew good and well had a terrible track record of looking out for their own. Just look at Carter. A Shaper and Spirit Caller, that's what he called himself, and I done found out since that means he's a heavy hitter by any metric you measure by. It ain't the same as calling him a bonafide Conjuror, because the Métis don't really follow the general standards that go by the 7 Schools of Magic and whatnot. What it do mean is that he got the Spellslinging chops and training on par with a Special Forces operator, a Ranger or Pathfinder without the military rank and training.

Yet even with all his strength, he was willing to bow his head and pinch his pennies to pay the Pugliano's their protection money. Not because he couldn't fight them, or wasn't brave enough to do it, but because he didn't think he could protect his family from them. Ain't a lack of confidence that done it, as it's a hard thing to do, playing defense all the livelong day against a threat that can rear its ugly head at any given time. I didn't even bother doing that much, just passed the buck over onto the Marshal who got his plate full guarding the entire Eastern Front, then buried my head in the sand until the Puglianos came calling to collect.

I got them back in the end, all except Mia Pugliano who I'll get to eventually, but it was far too little much too late, because Josie was already dead and gone.

Alongside our baby, and it makes me wonder what sort of grand-daddy my daddy would've been. Would he have pushed my kid as hard as he pushed me, or would he have eased off after mellowing with age? What a sight it would've been, to see him holding my son, to get a glimpse of how he might've looked at me when I was just a baby. For so many years, I thought he hated me because I done killed my mama, figured he only looked after me because that's what fathers were supposed to do, but resented me all the same. That's why he left me with the neighbours most of the time while out and about fighting Abby. I figured he'd rather go delving under dark and risk his neck time and time again than spend his days with me, which is silly because looking back on those days now, I realize just how much he loved me.

All of which I tell them, while pouring out so much more, about 18-years worth of things I wish I had said or could say to either one of them. "I don't know what to do about your brother, Mama," I confess, heaving a sigh and pulling out the Arcane Grimoire Jinfeng handed over as payment for bringing her up here to collect her dead. I ain't no fool though. She said this book was prepared years ago, when my mother's brother learned about my existence, and I believe it. Though it's almost as thin as my notebook, there are countless pages packed inside, all magically condensed to keep the magical tome slim enough to fit in my breast pocket and chock full of Spell Formulas with in depth notation that couldn't have been filled out all that quickly. Even ignoring the magical properties of the Arcane Grimoire, the handwritten notes alone are proof positive that he's been thinking about me for years, and given how I done burned almost every other bridge I got, I can't help but wonder what it might be like to acknowledge my maternal uncle as family.

Can't say it appeals, because I don't understand much about the Qin. All of Jinfeng's statements about being the Dragon and leading my peers sounds similar to what my daddy and the Marshal wanted for me, but in her eyes, it's just how it should be. Got nothing to do with who my blood relations are, and everything to do with my age and skills, because those who can do more, take on more, and those who can't, take on whatever they can. That is her mindset, one engrained into her from birth, that everything is for the good of the Republic, whereas I'm more free-thinking and independent in that I gotta look out for me and mine, because ain't no government gonna do it for me.

Besides, I ain't in no mood to take on more responsibility, or join up with the man who might well be responsible for my daddy's death. Won't ever know for sure either, because it ain't like I can just ask him. How can I believe any answer he gives either, with or without my gun to his head? I can't, not for certain, and I don't know what to do about it. What if he's only indirectly responsible? Like if them 3 Vanguard thought they was doing their General a favour by taking my daddy out. Don't matter if everyone involved has been punished already, the deed was done and my daddy's dead, so ain't nowhere to lay that blame besides at the General's feet.

But more to the point? I miss having a father figure to look out for me. Lost my daddy, and lost Marcus so many years ago when he got shipped up to Meadowbrook, then lost him again in Pleasant Dunes, and now I don't even have Uncle Teddy to fall back on. It's just me out here on my own, because it ain't like I can turn to Tina, Chrissy, or Aunty Ray for any of this. It's my job to watch out for them, so what sort of job would I be doing if I asked them for help? Ain't no different from telling them to watch out for themselves, so what the fuck would I be good for then?

Ain't the Firstborn, can't be no husband or father, and now, I'm coming to terms with how I ain't even good enough to care for what family I still have left.

"It's pathetic really," I say, having cried my heart out and complained so much even I'm getting sick of my gripes. "Here I am, with only hours to go until I turn eighteen, and yet all I can do is come running to daddy for help, or cry about not having one to lean back on." Resisting the urge to throw of fit or even toss a pebble in pique, I heave a long and tired sigh. "How'd you do it Daddy? How'd you go on after losing Mama? How'd you shoulder all your burdens and find strength enough to take on more, to do so much for an ungrateful bunch like the folks of the Frontier? They paid you peanuts compared to your real worth, didn't give you no medals or commendations for what you done, called you all sorts of names with 'Yellow Devil' being the one they settled on for use with polite company. For years, they worked you like a dog without so much as an 'atta boy', and still you went above and beyond all the same."

While me? I'm struggling just to take care of me and mine, drowning beneath the deluge of responsibility and barely able to convince myself to crawl out of bed every morning, or rather the recliner where I've been spending most my nights the last few weeks. If it wasn't for the kiccaws, cattle, and horses, I might well have never left my seat, and I only done what I have because there wasn't no choice but to with this trip up here looming over me.

Seems a far cry from the Firstborn who was supposed to lead the next generation to conquer the Frontier. Thought I long since came to terms with how that ain't me, but it still stings to admit it all the same. "I can't be like you Daddy," I whisper, staring up at the night's sky and seeing nothing through the tears. "I ain't strong enough. Don't know how you did it, got through so much when you was even younger than me, but I haven't even caught up to you at 16, much less gotten on track to where I'm supposed to be. Only thing I got you beat in is height, and only by a single inch, a record that ain't gonna change since I'm pretty sure I'm done growing."

After all that, I done finally run out of things to say, which leaves me sitting there in silence all alone with my thoughts. Ain't no answers to be had, not from my daddy or my mama who're dead and gone, but I can hear what he would've said all the same. "The man who blames others has a long way to go. The man who blames himself is halfway there. The man who blames no one has already arrived."

Or in simpler terms, take responsibility and avoid self pity. Acknowledge your flaws, take ownership of your actions, and work towards personal growth and overcoming challenges instead of focusing on factors outside of your control. The only thing I can control is what I do next, and sitting around here feeling sorry for myself won't fix nothing. Might make me feel a little better having gotten this all off my chest, but it don't change the facts none. I'm out here with the three people I love the most surrounded on all sides by Abby who're all riled up about something or the other, so it's high time I done something about it besides feel sorry for myself.

Ain't much of a pep talk if I'm being honest, but that's how life is. Shit sucks for everyone, but most can keep on keeping on. Why can't I do the same?

"Good talk," I say, getting up from my seat and brushing off my pants before putting my glove back on. "Wish I had better news to share, but it is what it is." Pausing for a moment, I try to think back if my daddy ever met Josie, and even though I assume he must've, I can't come up with any memories of him with her or her parents. "Help me look after Josie and the little one will you?" I ask, even though I know it goes without asking. "Tell her I'll be by to talk soon as I can." Or be there in person to meet them all if things don't work out in the here and now. "Bye Daddy. Bye Mama. Wish I could stay, but there are things to do and Abby to kill, so it is what it is. Love you both."

And I mean it too, because even though I ain't never met my mama, and she only had a little time with me, I know she loved me with all her heart, so much she didn't regret giving up her life for mine. That's what my daddy said, and he wasn't no liar, no matter how ridiculous the truth might sound. Means I can't go squandering what she given me, or at least not squander it any more than I already have. The head start I've gained on my peers is fast evaporating, and missing one hand is slowing me down, but I'm still standing head and shoulders above the rest of the pack, so its high time I started acting like it.

Because don't matter what folks call me. I'm Howie Zhu, Frontier born, Federation educated, and fresh out the school of hard knocks. I been down under dark and made it back in one piece, albeit short one great man who died for my mistakes. I done single-handedly brung down Vanguard National and the Pugliano Family, and I mean that figuratively and literally. I been riding in and out of the badlands solo since I was 14, and made the trip at least once a year with my daddy since I was 8. I got more experience out here than half the Rangers stationed along the border, and I got everything riding on the line here. If anyone can get my people away from the Divide in one piece, it'd be me, and there ain't no two ways about it.

So it's high time I started acting like it and get cracking on a plan to get gone, one that's better than sit tight and wait for things to blow over. Got some inkling of what needs to be done, and I know Aunty Ray won't like it much, but that's just how it's gotta be. I ain't no tactical leader or heavy hitter who can bring us out hot. No, I'm a lone wulf and Scout, one who thrives in the chaos and works best by the seat of my pants, so maybe it's time I play to my strengths and head out to see what's what.

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