The School of Knocked Out

Since John had nothing after Chemistry today, he spent a few hours learning how to play guitar with Jenny. By the end, he could competently strum it, but failed at playing something as simple as “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Still, learning all he did in a few hours was impressive nonetheless, and his skill had shot up to level seven. When John failed to play “Love Me Do,” Jenny sighed in frustration.

“With how quickly you learn spells, I thought this wouldn’t take as long.” Jenny mumbled, absentmindedly playing with his hair. The last bell rang, and John set the guitar down. “Well, maybe Keith can help.” Jenny said putting her bass in its case and sliding it around her shoulders.

“We’re going to see him again?” John asked, wondering if he should take the guitar into his inventory. He decided to leave it there for now. He could probably buy one for cheap anyways, and it technically belonged to the school. Despite the unused state of the classroom, someone would probably notice it was missing sooner or later.

“That’s right. He’s going to teach you how to fight!” Jenny said, punching him in the shoulder. “He’s good at telling people what they’d be good at.” John shrugged, deciding it couldn’t hurt. How wrong he was.

Walking out of the barrier that let out near Keith’s apartment building, John asked “So is Keith going to teach me spells or is he going to teach me how to fight?" He also realized that he had forgotten his bag at school. Oh well.

“Yes, and yes. The plan was to get you super good at guitar playing so he could try to teach you some music magic, but that failed… anyways, I’ve got to talk to my dad about the whole ‘necromancer spreading across the city and trying to kill me twice’ thing, and he’s expecting you, so get up there.” Jenny finished, and pushed him toward the building with a pat on the butt.

“I don’t know him that well yet!” John called behind him as Jenny quickly sprinted away, her laughs fading away before cutting off as she re-entered the fast-travel barrier.

Alright, this is fine. He’s a cool guy. A little threatening, and could easily kill me, but he’s a cool guy. John thought as he ascended the stairs of Keith’s apartment building, having already been buzzed in. He equipped his gun belt and robe before entering Keith’s residential barrier.

You have entered Keith Rutherford’s residential barrier! If you’re not Jenny, Kimberly, or a customer, get out!

Other than the bouquet of disorienting smells which hit him once again, he immediately noticed it was empty, and dark. He looked around, and all he saw was a note. It read “turn around.”

John entered Reflex Mode instantly, and caught Keith just about to slug him in the back of the head. John tilted his head slightly and drew a gun from the gun belt, training it suspiciously on the bearded man. The aforementioned alchemist teetered on his foot, outstretched as he was because he was sure his attack would hit, before falling on his face.

“Relax lad I was just testing you,” Keith said, slapping the gun out of his face. “With reflexes like that, you’d be best with that afterimage spellbook I have…” Keith rubbed his chin for a few moments, “not like I’m fast enough to use it, and Jenny can’t use it. Her music would destroy her own afterimages.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” John said, holstering his gun again. Keith gave him a shifty look before going into the shelves next to one of the many alchemy tables lining the walls. He stuffed a tiny book into his inner jacket pocket before turning back to John.

“Come with me to the roof.” Keith ordered, strolling over to the window and subsequently the fire escape used to exit the barrier. John followed him, and noticed that when he climbed out the window, he automatically left the barrier.

“What’s on the roof?” John asked, following the man up the fire escape. John noticed that Keith had several vial holding bandoliers and belts criss-crossing his jacket and the upper part of his pants. All firmly held in place somehow, all full of vials of different kinds. Some were full of runny liquids which bubbled and condensed, before turning back into a liquid, like a self sustained ecosystem. Another was full of what looked like dry oatmeal, but a shiny, dark red. There was one that looked like it was filled with black, misty sand but John knew better.

“Just enter the barrier up here,” Keith said, disappearing onto the roof. John noticed that a barrier seemed to encompass the entire top, but he couldn’t be sure. He entered the barrier, and noticed it was an exact replica of the roof, same concrete ground. The only notable difference of the roof itself seemed to be a giant weapon rack next to a couch. The rack had everything from medieval looking swords to modern pistols. It even had a pair of gauntlets of some kind. The biggest difference had to have been the sky, which turned into a dry thunderstorm the second he entered.

“Alright. Here’s how this is going to go. We fight normally. Go all out. Guns, swords, magic, whatever you’ve got.” Keith explained, taking a potion from his belt and uncorking it. John took a gun in each hand, and Keith downed the potion. John immediately noticed hairline cracks spanning the surface of his skin. They quickly deepened, and Keith looked like a flesh-colored version of Ben Grimm. He walked over to the weapons rack, and took a pistol that looked like a bigger version of John’s from it. Spy confirmed it to be another Sig Sauer P320, but whereas John had the compact model, his was full size.

Alright buddy, you're sitting out this one. I don't want you getting hurt, and I want to work with you a little bit more before you fight, John thought to David, who fidgeted nervously atop John's shoulder, but complied, and decided to sit atop the weapon rack and cheer him on.

“Well? What doya want? An invitation?” Keith said, turning toward him. Apparently, a side effect of the potion was a deeper, gruffer voice. Keith levelled his gun at John, who already had both guns pointing at his opponent. Keith opened fire on him, and John deftly dodged to the side, returning fire. His bullets hit… but they bounced off Keith’s skin uselessly. As a hulking mass, more stone than skin, Keith approached him, still firing. Apparently, he was much slower in this form. It’s just like the brute… except smarter. John thought as he somersaulted over Keith’s head, shooting him in the back in the process. Again, the bullets seemed to have no effect.

That’s not good John thought as he roughly landed behind Keith, who had trouble turning around quickly. Keith levelled his gun at John and opened fire again, this time only shooting a couple times before the chamber collapsed and the gun exploded in his hand from him squeezing it too hard.

Both of John’s guns ran out of ammo at the same time, and he shook his gun belt angrily, why don’t you work! He was snapped out of his thoughts as another potion sailed toward him, and he dodged left… but it turned with him. “How the hell do you make a homing potion" John called over, as Keith was standing still, laughing.

John flipped over the potion, landing on his hands and springing up, but it reversed its course. He thought about firing a Mana Bolt at it, but didn’t want to waste the mana. That’s it! I’ll use Mana Construct! John thought as he activated it and traced his hand with the hand the skill was active in, forming a flexible, protective glove around it. He grabbed the potion, which surprisingly didn’t shatter on impact. It drove itself into his hand, and John hardly had the strength to resist it. Instead of trying to, he worked with its momentum as Keith approached him.

Just as Keith wound up to punch him, John turned with the potion, smashing it and the gauntlet into Keith’s face. Immediately, Keith’s stone skin began to fade. “That’s not s’posed to happen!” Keith exclaimed, backpedaling from John. John, deciding to press his advantage, fired at Keith, hitting him once in the shoulder as the alchemist jumped back, taking another vial from his belt. John recognized it as the one full of black, misty sand. Keith smashed his feet, and everything turned black. Darkness coalesced, and a thick, swirling black mist consumed the area. John equipped the Desperado Mask to avoid **** on it. He fired blindly into the smog, but couldn’t hit anything. A bolt of lightning struck the roof, revealing Keith’s silhouette near the weapon rack again.

John fired at him and heard the sound of metal hitting metal. As quick as the darkness came, it was gone, revealing Keith with two gauntlets on. That reminded John of his wrist guards, and he banged his wrists together, the bone emerging from his skin as if it were liquid.

Keith charged him with a battle cry that was more reminiscent of a scotsman than an irishman, and attempted to punch John right in the torso. John blocked Keith’s punch with a wrist guard, and levelled a gun at Keith’s face, but Keith snatched it out of John’s hand, his other hand on John’s wrist, pressuring the arm guard almost to the point of cracking it. He slammed his fist towards John’s face, and John slipped past the punch, bring his leg up to roundhouse kick Keith. It didn’t budge the alchemist, who retorted by grabbing John by his leg and lifting him up, causing John to drop his other gun.

“Uh oh,” John said as Keith slammed him into the ground, bringing his health halfway down. John fired a Mana Bolt in Keith’s face and dove for his gun, scooping it off the ground and vaulting back toward Keith with his momentum. John pointed a gun right in Keith’s face… just as Keith did the same. The guns held so hard they nearly shook and pressed so close into each other’s faces that they practically touched each other’s noses.

“Go ahead… make my day.” Keith said, and John gasped in shock.

“Hey, I’m the one wearing the cowboy mask! That’s my line!” John retorted, blocking Keith’s free hand, which was about to knock John’s gun away, with his own free hand. Meanwhile, Keith had inched a vial off his shoulder, and caught it just before it dropped. He brought his free hand back up and uncorked the vial, splashing it on John’s hand, causing John to drop his gun.

“That’s snakeworm mucus, so slippery that that hand won’t be able to hold anything for a while. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that it’ll harden any second now. Checkmate boyo,” Keith said, his commandeered gun still in John’s face. Ah fuck it, I already used it once in the apartment. I may as well use it to win the fight. John thought as he entered Reflex Mode, moving his head backwards as Keith fired. Did I see the bullet leave the gun? John thought as he reached down with the hand that wasn’t petrified and picked up his gun. When he turned back, Keith’s fist was inches from his face and John was filled with panic as he realized things were speeding back up, and Reflex Mode was ending.