Two weeks. It’s been two weeks, and Liv still hasn’t heard a thing from the Initiative on how she did. Did she expect results right away, especially after how long it took her to get from South America to North America? No, of course not. But two weeks? Was there no way to transport it any faster? It was, to her, an inane amount of time to spend just waiting. Luckily, Liv didn’t have to just wait.

  “Checkmate.” Charlotte says resolutely, a small grin spreading across her face as her queen slides in, pinning Liv’s king in the corner.

  “Now that just ain’t fair.” Liv says, plucking her king off the board, examining the wooden piece. It’s of a nicer material, a smooth wood finely oiled and polished. Liv turns it round and round between her gauntleted fingers before setting it down with all her other captured pieces. She was trying to hide her frustration at losing for the hundredth time this week. Charlotte’s skill at the game apparent, and Liv's skill wasn't growing in proportion with hers. It didn’t help that Liv had a backseater in her ear the entire time.

  “We would have had victory if you had listened to me instead of going for risky, foolish moves.” Her boss’ voice rings through her head, chastising her for the umpteenth time this game. “You sacrificed your Knight for a Pawn.”

  “They left it right in the open! How was I s'posed to know their queen could do allat!?” Liv says, gesturing wildly to the board.

  “I was telling you it was a trap, and you didn’t listen. If you had, again, listened to me, we would have had a chance at victory.” Her boss says, mentally gesturing to the board as well.

  “Well whoop-dee-doo! Ain't you s'posed to claim pieces in this game?” Liv nearly shouts, her left hand banging on the table, causing the remaining chess pieces to clatter to the floor.

  “An argument with your Weapon?” Charlotte asks, barely hiding a smile under her hand covering her mouth.

  “Uh huh.” Liv mutters, her arms crossed. She groans, getting to her feet. She drags her feet to the cupboard, looking around for the biggest one she could find. Most of the cups were wood, about the size of her hand, though some larger ones at the end were glass, able to store about a quart of water. She snatches one of the glass cups, nearly shattering it with the force of her grip. She walks to the tap, filling her glass all the way to the brim before putting the rim to her lips, chugging the contents in one fell swoop, then again, then again. After the fourth full cup of water, she allows the cup to fall to the sink, the anger of the game fading from her mind.

  “I’ve never seen a Wielder as in touch with their weapon as you, let alone have such heated debates with them.” Charlotte muses, resting her head on a hand, rearranging the chess board. Every day they played and, like clockwork, Liv would lose every time. It was a bit of a mark on her pride, especially when her boss would chime in with its back seating and eventual chastisement upon her loss.

  ”If you coulda heard what this ol' bastard's been sayin’, you’d be arguin’ too.” Liv says, reclaiming her seat by falling into it, leaning back with a sigh. “How come you ain’t talk to yours?”

  “We mentally communicate.” Charlotte says, sipping the cup at her side. Liv had learned it was something called “Oolong tea". She had tried it, then she spit it out. It had a dirt like taste, one Liv was not too fond of. An acquired taste, one she never had the chance to get. She just stuck with the water.

  "Huh?" Liv questions as she turns to Charlotte, a look of confusion washing across her face.

  "I mentally communicate with my weapon." She repeats, elegantly placing her tea cup down as if she didn't say anything out of the ordinary. For Charlotte, it wasn't. For Liv? Crazy speech from the mind of a deranged lunatic.

  “That's somethin' ya can do that?” Liv says, looking between Charlotte and her blade, Pierre. The metal gleams in the light, catching the beams in just the right way to make it shine like a beacon.

  “Of course.” Charlotte says, thumbing the pommel of her blade fondly, a clear spark of affection in her eye as she looks down at her prized blade.

  Liv looks down at her gauntlets, her thumb coming up to graze her left one, running along the ridges of the metal. Maybe if she was affectionate with it, she could-.

  "Do not do that." Her boss asserts, stopping Liv dead in her tracks. She coughs, embarrassed at the failed attempt. She steals a glance at Charlotte, still looking down at her blade fondly.

  "Uh... How do I do that?" Liv asks sheepishly, her fingers intertwining as she clasps her hands together.

  Charlotte turns her gaze to her, her head cocking to the side. She hums, tapping her cheek as she thinks. Eventually, she responds with, "I do not know, actually. When I picked up the weapon, it spoke to me in my mind, and I spoke to it in kind. Have you not been able to do that at all?"

  Liv looks at Charlotte blankly before turning her attention to her boss, her voice cold. "Has that been on the table this whole time?"

  "Yes." Her boss answers. If it felt any guilt or shame, it didn't show in its voice.

  "Why ain't we been doin' that?" Liv asks incredulously as she looks over to her gauntlets, her eyes full of indignation. She can almost feel them looking back with ethereal, nonexistent eyes.

  “It’s a simple waste of energy.” Her boss says, “Why should I waste my energy establishing a true connection when you speaking out loud will yield a similar result without me spending an ounce of my energy on a two way connection?”

  “So I ain’t embarrassing myself?” Liv mutters, throwing a glance to Charlotte. Charlotte seems to be watching her, amused confusion in her eyes. Liv can't help feel embarrassed by her lack of knowledge, though she knew it was silly in nature. Still, it's just another thing everyone but her was privy to.

  “Hm… I suppose it would be better for our talks to be unheard if you are to go to this Initiative.” Her boss says, disappointment heavy in its voice as it says “Initiative”. “So I suppose I can spare the energy if our sanctity is upheld. Try to keep your mind open while I do this.”

  As her boss says that, Liv feels a searing, almost drilling-esque pain in her head. She cries, falling to a knee as she grips her head, trying in vain to stop the pain. It continues on, tears springing to Liv’s eyes as she grips her head. It felt like someone was trying to break into her very essence, every nerve alit in a symphony of agony. She can feel arms grabbing her hands, but she continues to grip her head, easily shrugging the hands off her. After what feels like hours, but in reality is more like a minute, the pain finally stops as a voice rings through her head, far clearer than before.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Can you hear me? Her boss says, their voice feeling as if its bouncing around her skull.

  Liv groans, slowly opening her eyes as tears run down her cheeks. Her head felt like it was thrown around before being reattached haphazardly to her body, each of her senses dulled dramatically.

  “If you can hear me, imagine you’re having a conversation with me.” Her boss says louder within her mind, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through Liv's pain addled head.

  “I imagine I wanna strangle yer ass.” Liv groans mentally, trying to move her arms. She notices, however, that a hand is wrapped around each of her wrists, cold metal seeping frost right into her skin. She turns, seeing Charlotte’s gaze looking down at her, clear concern on her face.

  “Are you quite alright? You just started screaming bloody murder.” Charlotte asks, the taller woman pulling her to her feet.

  “Yeah, I reckon I got that mental speakin’ thing you was talkin’ bout. Lemme check.” Liv says, furrowing her brow in concentration. “I got it?”

  “Yes.” Her boss replies curtly.

  “I got it.” Liv says groggily, nodding with a hint of pride in her tone, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

  "I see." Charlotte says, giving Liv an appraising eye. "I didn't know that was even a possibility. It's strange that it would take so long for a weapon and Wielder with such a long history to not have a mental connection with its Welder."

  “Somethin’ about energy conservation. My boss' ain't like to expend it, I 'spose." Liv says, her gauntleted pointer clanging against her similarly gauntleted palm.

  “Energy? I've also never heard of a weapon being worried about draining its energy through mental communication. You and them are full of surprises.” Charlotte says, reaching her hand out, running her armored finger across the metal of Liv’s gauntlet.

  "She's quite rude. She has no place speaking on how I spend my energy." Her boss says mentally, its chastising aimed at Charlotte

  "She ain't wrong." Liv shoots back, her eyebrow twitching.

  "The way I spend my energy is none of your-." Her boss starts, Liv tuning them out halfway through. She got her point across, and she didn't feel the need to speak on it further. She would, of course, have to speak on it later. Her boss didn't enjoy unresolved topics.

  "Well... Chess?" Charlotte asks, gesturing to the reset chess board. Liv looks back to it, her eyebrows furrowing.

  “I 'spose so.” Liv mutters, considering her strategy. She would have to be more cautious, but it would just be her this time. Without her boss, she wouldn't second guess herself. A trickle of hope enters her mind as she retakes her seat, watching as Charlotte resets the board. She could win, even if its just once.

  The sun shines down on the pleasant earth as the greasy man walks through, a smile on his face. These little moments before good news always have him giddy, a pep in his step as he walks down the trodden, dirt paths. Sadly, he doesn’t get a lot of good news. The Initiative isn’t exactly accepting when it comes to agents, only accepting those with exceptional talent. Luckily, the two people in his little outposts care have a swathe of talent. A knight with a good grade on the Physical and an outstanding grade on the mental examination alongside a girl who, while an underachiever on the mental, dominated the physical. Looking down in his hand, two small envelopes lay, pristine in his sweaty hands. Acceptance letters. He smiles, imagining the smiles that would spread across their faces, the same smiles that spread across all accepted peoples. Every time he gets to do this, he’s reminded why this is the career he went into.

  After a short, brisk walk, he arrives at the small cabin. It’s cozy, on the smaller side within the outpost. It has privacy, and that was simply the tradeoff one had to make. He ascends the stairs, the wood creaking as he arrives at the door, grabbing the handle.

  The door creaks open as he peers his head inside. He opens his mouth, preparing to speak before he’s cut off, a strange scene before him.

  “I’m not sayin’ im smarter than all the people who made chess, I just reckon it ain’t fair a lil’ pawn can turn into that big ol’ queen 'cause it took a gander cross the stupid board!” Liv says, shaking the table as she speaks. Her side of the board is completely ransacked, a sparse amount of her pieces remaining on the board. She’s clearly frustrated, nearly red in the face.

  “That’s simply how it works. What would you learn if I went easy on you?” Charlotte asks, casually sipping her tea. From Liv’s vantage, it would seem she’s being dead serious; however, he can see the clear, smug grin on her face.

  “I ain’t learnin’ when I'm losin’ so quick like! Yer pulling some bullcrap “Ein Pissant” and sayin’ I gotta take it!” She growls, the wood of the table creaking under her grip.

  “En Passant, you mean.” Charlotte says, her smug grin growing by the second. She was clearly enjoying the anger of Liv, even if she didn’t care to admit it. “And yes, you do have to take it.”

  Liv’s teeth audibly grind together, the muscles in her neck popping as she speaks, “Whatever fancy name you wanna put on it, it just ain’t fair. I should be able to-.”

  “Ahem.” The greasy man clears his throat, Liv’s head whipping to look at him. Charlotte is far more composed, slowly turning her head, a practiced smile growing across her face as she acknowledges him with a small nod.

  “Oh, uh. Howdy!” Liv says, her anger slowly draining from her face as she waves. Her head pounds as she tries to remember his name. Did she ask for a name? She can't seem to remember it if she ever asked, so she goes with a safe, sheepish response. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Fabio, it is wonderful to see you again.” Charlotte says, standing to give a quick curtsy, causing the greasy man known as “Fabio” to rub the back of his head as he chuckles awkwardly. Liv turns to Charlotte, her eyes wide as Charlotte looks to her, a false look of innocence on her face.

  “Your letters came in. Congratulations to both of you.” He smiles as he hands them the envelopes, the logo of the Initiative emblazoned on the stamps. Charlotte walks up, grabbing both of them, handing the one with the name “Liv Boss” to Liv.

  “Thank you, Fabio. You’ve been an amazing host to us, and I hope to speak to you again soon.” Charlotte says, doing another curtsy. Liv looks on before imitating the gesture poorly, having to stabilize herself by throwing her arms out to the side.

  “Thank ya kindly, Fabio.” She says, her head hung low as another sting of defeat burns into her heart.

  “It’s nothing. I wish you two luck on your journeys.” Fabio says, a smile on his face as he closes the door, descending the stairs, a smile on his face. It was nice to see the pair of them a bit more open, not as awkward or closed off as when they came in. He just hopes the two can continue like that down the line.

  Charlotte laughs as Liv glares at her, both red in the face for different reasons. Tears of mirth trail down Charlotte's face as she grips her stomach, wiping away said tears gleefully. Liv, on the other hand, is clenching her teeth, her face red with embarrassment.

  “It ain’t funny.” Liv says bashfully, crossing her arms.

  This causes Charlotte to erupt further in laughter, earning her a queen straight to the dome. This cycle repeats for an entire hour, every comment from Liv causing more peels of laughter to escape Charlotte's mouth. When she finally calms down, her eyes red from tears of joy, they finally get to packing. Of course, Liv only had the clothes on her back, but she learned Charlotte had a lot more. Clothes, cutlery, an entire tapestry, and polish for her armor, all stuffed into a box the size of Liv’s torso. The two trail out of the outpost, headed toward the exit, Liv frowning a bit as they approached the exit. Unfortunately, Alexis and his crew had left before she had the chance to say a true, proper goodbye. Despite their awkward interactions, she truly enjoyed all their company. She would have to catch up if she ever saw them again. One of those letters they talked about? Maybe.

  Exiting the gate, a large bus awaits. It's a chrome grey, designed for use over comfort, the logo of the Hellfire Initiative emblazoned on its hull. The doors squeak open as Liv and Charlotte approach, a young man in the driver's seat, no older than nineteen. He sports a leather jacket, a white shirt, and jeans filthy with various stains from dirt and grass. A cigar sits between his lips, passing between either corner of his lips, smoke billowing up and out the open window at his side, ash caking his lap as it snows down like the first signs of winter.

  “Get in.” He demands raggedly, his thumb jutting out toward the seats. His voice is rough, almost a croak, his cigar caught between his teeth. Charlotte and Liv oblige the request, taking the furthest seat to the back, away from everyone else as the bus screeches forward, taking off through the terrain. The bus has few occupants, but certainly not none. The seats are rough, sparsely cushioned, though the windows were clean enough to look out of. Liv takes the inner most seat, Charlotte sandwiching her in as Liv looks out the window. The bus lurches forward, Liv watching the small outpost fade slowly. The first place to give her a taste of outside life, the one with so many of her new friends, vanishing behind her. She pushes her hand up against the window, a mix of excitement and despair bubbling in her. She could only hope that wherever they were headed was even half as nice as the outpost.