by B.J. Keeton
***
The smile on Ceril’s face didn’t last long, though. Ethan Triggs saw to that.
After all the other students had gone, Ceril still stood there and stared out the window. The swirl of colors created by hyperspace was mesmerizing, so when Ceril’s nose slammed into the window, it took him a minute to even register what happened.
And when he did, he registered the three things:
First, pain. Second, he was lying on the ground. Third, a large boy a few years older than Ceril was standing over him, laughing.
“Welcome to the Sigil, noob,” the boy said. His voice was meaty, but he enunciated his words. Which to Ceril, meant the boy wasn’t stupid.
“What the hell, man? Why did you do that?”
The boy shrugged. “Why not?”
“Why not?” Ceril almost shrieked. “You almost broke my nose.”
“It’s not broken, though. You’d be bleeding if it were.” The boy put out his hand, like he was offering to help Ceril to his feet.
Ceril accepted, and when he was upright, he said, “I’m Ceril Bain.”
“Lame,” the boy said. “I’m Ethan Triggs.”
“Lame?” Ceril asked.
Ethan nodded. “Your name. You’re just all-around terrible for a Recruit, aren’t you, Ceril?”
“What’s your problem, Ethan?” Ceril said. “I was just standing here, and you come in and start insulting me. What gives?”
Ethan shrugged. “Don’t really like Recruits, I guess. Most of you guys are idiots, most of you fail, and if you’re not enough of an idiot to fail, you get in my way and screw up my training or my missions.”
Ceril cocked his head to the side. “What does that have to do with me?”
Ethan shrugged again. “Who knows? You were here, so let’s just say this is my way of telling you to stay the hell out of my way.”
Before Ceril could say anything, Ethan placed both his meaty hands on Ceril’s shoulders and pushed again. This time, the back of Ceril’s head slammed into the window, and his vision flashed. He felt himself fall to the floor again. And he heard Ethan Triggs chuckle and start to walk away.
“Welcome to the Sigil, Recruit.”