Ryzz's Journal

I woke up staring at the sky. Problem was, there used to be a roof between me and it.

The last thing I remember is the ice cold grip of that giant's hand around my throat and then a lot of noise that did not sound like it came from outside my head.

I must have flown a good hundred feet before gravity remembered its job. I don’t know how long I was out. Definitely long enough for most of my wounds to have already seared themselves shut. It took me a good half hour to stand. That’s when the wave of pain hit me. Only head trauma and rib damage remained. Who would have thought I used to walk off falls like this as if they were nothing more than a small bruise?

I picked up whatever was left of my mask as I limped into the tunnels. Everything now seemed quiet, an oddity for such a bustling city. I must have been blasted so far I ended up somewhere toward the outskirts.

Every step echoed like the streets were mocking me. I don’t know how I managed to remember my way into the complex, but I knew I was on the right track the moment the air began to stink of oil and rust. The underbelly of civilization is as romantic as ever. I found the hatch by memory, though I nearly passed out opening it.

Gilda nearly took my head off. Same dusty bar, same bad lighting, same look of disapproval that could curdle milk. She looked the same, although a little grayer maybe.

She just said, "You again?" and tossed me a rag. So much for hospitality. She didn’t ask questions, just grabbed the medkit and poured me something strong. I think she patched me up between shots. I did not stay awake long enough to care.

Ha. I wonder if she had to drag my body to bed.

I’m in one of the inn rooms. Gilda must’ve felt generous enough to lend it to me. Not made for someone my size, but I’m not turning down a free bed. Surprised the journal’s still in one piece. The pain’s dulling, though it still tugs at my ribs if I move too fast. I wish it had lasted until I fell asleep. Keeps my brain from chewing over a failed contract.

Tomorrow, I’ll head back out. Try again, maybe. Or not. Depends on how long Gilda’s patience lasts. She says I owe for the bandages and the bottle. Fair enough.

For now, I’ll let the world spin without me. Maybe rest a little, see if I can wrangle another chance with the lion.

⠀

...Or if I need to beg for another night.