Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Legends Academy ❯ Markarov ( Chapter 2 )

Begin Chapter Two…

 

Trying to assess this situation, I took a deep breath. Okay, he's back. Now let's try to be rational about this. Look at all the points and try to determine what he's going to do.

 

Point one: He's back. That's bad.

Point two: He sounds angry. That's also bad.

Point three: I beat him last time. That's good, I think.

Point four: But after that, he beat me. That's bad.

Point five: He might have something important to say. But what is it?

Point six: I'm making too many points, but I'll make one more. I could probably scare him enough to leave him shocked for a few seconds and run for it, or at the very least I could talk my way out of this…I think…

 

Alright, and the points come together to form my current situation, which is: I'm in deep trouble. He's mad at me for beating him and he'll just be even madder if I beat him again. And if I don't try to beat him again he'll beat me up! Again! My only option is to avoid fighting and talk my way out. And with this hothead? I sighed. Wish me luck…

 

I heard him speak behind me, accent heavy on the air itself. “What are you sighing about? I haven't hurt you yet. And I still might not if you're a good little girl.” I sighed again, shaking my head.

 

I looked out at the scenery, noticing some movement. There was what seemed to be a-no-it couldn't be! A dragon?

 

But it looked distorted somehow. Either way, the figure gave me an unexpected burst of confidence. “I think not,” I countered, sitting up strait. I took a deep breath, composing a mini-speech for the Russian “bully”. Yeah, right. Prepare to be scared.

 

“If you so much as ever speak to me without my consent I will personally rip you to shreds. And if that doesn't do it, I'll have to get nasty. Do you understand?” I smirked, knowing that he was freaked out. After a moment he said, “Yeah, sure, you can just keep telling yourself that when I pummel you, alright?” I knew from his voice that I had done my job right. He was just about frozen on the spot.

 

I closed my sketch pad, reaching for my bag. As soon as I grabbed it, the bag was replaced by the Russian jerk. He grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. I growled, straining to regain dominance over him.

 

“Let go of me before I make you.” I said with such force that I surprised myself. He only pulled on my arm, successfully rattling me to the bone. I expected him to stop when my arm couldn't stretch any further but when my arm reached the extent of its stretching ability, he pulled me strait off of the stone. He lifted me right off the ground!

 

He dragged me a few feet over and I looked over the edge. It's amazing that I didn't notice that fifty-foot drop a few minutes ago. Oh, crap. I'm dead. Dead, dead, dead! If he doesn't kill me the fall will!

 

I squirmed and struggled but I couldn't break free! I don't believe it. I'm going to die. There is NO WAY I could survive that. He grabbed my other hand too, holding them together so that it looked like I was in the middle of a jumping-jack. I kicked at him but that jerk's arms were too long for me to be able to reach him. And he was enjoying this too! If I make it out of here, I'll kill him, I swear it!

 

I stopped squirming, realizing that it wouldn't do me any good. I looked down, letting my hair fall over my face and forcing a tear out of my eye.

 

“Alright. I give up.” I said in a helpless sounding voice. He let his hand fall but still held his grip firm.

 

“What?” He asked, bewildered.

 

“I said I give up. I'm sorry, I'm just so-so-so scared!” I said, starting to “cry”. He lifted me back on to the edge, smiling.

 

“Fine, have it your way. Whatever you choose, you're going to be in a lot of pain.” He let go of my arms, letting me fall to the ground. I feigned weakness by shaking my arms as I pushed myself up off the stone.

 

I stayed in that position only long enough to cry the words: “That's what you think!” I reached out my leg and swung, pulling his legs out from under him. He slipped and fell onto the stone, hitting his head.

 

He cried out. Not in pain, but in anger. He made a grab for me and pulled me at him. He head-butted me and the day started to fade. I still fought, but it was in vain. But then, suddenly, he let go and I felt a whooshing sensation surround me, as if there was an oversized bird trying to land next to me.

 

Before I could glimpse who of what it was, though, I passed out, not making a sound.

 

Some time later….

 

 

I sat strait up and instantly regretted it. Opening my eyes I clutched my head, wondering what happened.

 

Then I heard a girl's voice say, “I wouldn't sit up yet if I were you. You were hit pretty hard, you know.” I turned to the source of the voice and saw a girl, about my age, sitting by a fire and looking at the sunset.

 

“Who-Who are you?” I managed to say, wondering why my voice seemed so shy.

 

The girl looked at me, smiling and revealing perfect white teeth, just like mine.

 

“My name is Angel, and you are-?” She replied and asked, reaching behind her and out of my view. She seemed to pull a sketchbook from thin air, a sketchbook that looked eerily familiar.

 

Then it hit me like, well, like a Russian bully.

 

“Hey that's mine! Where did you get it? HOW did you get it?” I questioned her in one breath, not realizing that my bag had been out in the open. She ignored my questions, opening my visual diary quickly but carefully. After flipping through the pages for a few minutes, finally stopping at the picture of the Russian I had drew recently. Eventually she spoke.

 

“These are very good, but there is one thing I don't get. Why did you draw the boy who attacked you? Unless you were planning to use this as a dart board, I hardly see why you would willingly draw someone who nearly killed you.” I thought for a second, wondering myself why I drew him.

 

Then I was hit again, but luckily, it was by a point, and not a Russian teenager.

 

“I don't really know.” I started slowly, picking my words carefully “How did you know I was attacked? And how did you know it was him?”

 

I didn't know how this girl knew about the fight, and I don't think I really wanted to.

 

She just laughed and said, “Who do you think saved you from him? And you know you still haven't given me your name. I'd quite like to know.” I had realized the same thing too, so I decided I would just answer her.

 

“My name is Artemis Haun.” I said simply.

 

“Well, Artemis,” She started, getting up. She walked over to me, sidestepping the fire that she had inevitably built. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I suppose Markarov started the fight? You don't seem to be the war type.” Angel said, shaking my hand. I shook her back, smiling.

 

“So, Markarov, eh? That figures. With a name like that, I'm surprised I'm alive. I suppose I should be happy you intervened when you did. Another minute or two and I would be dead. And my mother would be-ahhh! Oh my god, my mom! She must be worried sick! I-“ I was cut off when Angel put her hand over my mouth, silencing my rant.

 

“Don't worry. I already talked to her. She thinks we're having a sleepover. She knows you're okay, so calm down.” Angel said, removing her hand.

 

I just said, “Oh. Well, thanks. I suppose I owe you one for that too.” She shook her head when I said that, smiling.

 

“Nah, it's okay. I've wanted to beat that spazteck up for a very, very long time. Consider us even.” I stared at her, jaw still dropping.

 

“Spazteck? Where did THAT come from?” She just laughed, grabbing an orange packet from a bag that looked like mine, but it wasn't. I assumed it was hers, considering there were about seven angel sighs on it. She handed me the packet, opening one that was similar. I looked at the packet, realizing that it was Ramen. I opened it and ate it dry after sating a quick “Thanks!” to Angel.

I have a feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…

 

End Chapter two…

 

 

(A/N: Markarov is Russian for "danger" and sometimes "security", but in this case I'd say it's the first one...)