It were the months after.
Of all the Low Lives, only three of us remained -August, Shan and myself. Our ranks had not budged an inch. We still had carried out most of the dirty work for the Seniors, laboring in the shadows behind them, treated worse and seen worst by them.
But then something else became noticeably clear when it had only been us in the group.
Nuker personally began to teach us things besides what was in the program.
We were learning information that even I had been surprised about, discovering how much of a late bloomer we were and that we had a knack of sponging up a lot of knowledge, more than the other members could.
Shantee, for example, became proficient at hand battles, able to disarm anybody who cared to step in her way, now capable of tossing Seniors older than herself over the ring when it was time for combat training.
She had lost her bullies and earned admirers, the Strong Girl of the Low Lives they called her now. Everyone was noticing how she had grown.
She was more woman now than anything and had a grace about her, able to turn heads, far from the lanky and awkward girl she had been when we first came here.
Augustus became an excellent technologist. He was better than the older guys at fashioning weapons and boosting them, at one point roping me and Shan into creating a prototype of a Rail Gun to post on a high tower of the armory.
Imagine the look on the Seniors' faces. They could not believe we had made it out of spares and junk, the parts they tossed from the tech plants. Usually the higher engineers were the only ones who could achieve such a feat.
They hadn't expected a Low Life. They were seething.
As for myself, I became dedicated to the propulsion arts, my aim having not missed too many of a target since the day Nuker gave me a gun to fire.
I also memorized the specifics of all the known weapons in the Gunnery Arms Bible, able to ascertain the type, capacity and make of any weapon at a glance, to dismantle it and assemble it repeatedly.
Nuker had taken me to hunts. We took down game during certain assignments to keep the peace.
The Basics, Intermediate and Advanced teachings to level up no longer mattered to us, no need for going through the material like an infesting swarm but more attuned to finishing stuff hands on in a day, myself surprised that I could do so much when I had drowned in learning before.
Nuker screamed less at us now. He trusted that we knew what to do.
Although Low Lives still, we felt like we had gotten educated more of the world than the other members of our Faction.
We three had stopped going to lessons altogether, after finishing our chores, looking out into the horizon from the rooftops.
When had it been wider, I wondered?
I do not remember, but I liked the feeling.
---
Dragon Season.
The usual migration patterns bring the most esoteric of the species to the Faction Isles area and somewhat this becomes a typical affair, that is, to watch the beasts drift or limber by in such massive numbers, in tow and following them, a Monster Base member or two acting like impressive herders caring for these creatures many times larger the size of any sheep or cattle.
We usually see them from afar, the Bossers or Ranchers making their records and keeping the rowdy younglings of the flock in line.
The Faction I had wanted to be a part of in the beginning. Not that I was not satisfied where I eventually ended up within the Gunnery now. It was just that watching them at that moment somewhat pinned in me a sense of nostalgia.
Those days when I was still confused and very much lost. I'd have laughed at myself in the past. Hadn't I an ulterior motive as to why I was here?
Reflecting on it, being honest about it personally, I did, didn't I? A useless brat just trailing after something superficial. The sum of my goals and aspirations.
Maybe it had been shallow of me, now that I was scrutinizing my own misgivings. I started on this road with the most inappropriate of reasons, and now those...t h a t reason appeared to no longer be my aim.
At least I believed I had found something far bigger than that here. In the company of my friends, my newfound resilience and a vision only us Low Lives could grasp.
"Whoa-whoa! Look at the size of that thing!!"
"Look at its mouth, you mean? That can swallow the whole classroom with the Shells in it for dinner!"
We cackled.
Then there was a deafening roar that made us cover our ears, the booming loudness like a cannon being shot from the distance. After that however, we still cracked up some more, finding that occurrence to be such an amusing coincidence.
"Sorry big fella!" Shantee grinned, hollering towards the dragons as if they could hear and understand her all the way from where we are. "We ain't talking about you, y'know?"
We had the best seat for the Dragon Viewing this year, sneaking up here to this tower no obedient Shell dared go to. We claimed it as our own, often scheming here, dreaming here, seen wider possibilities of the world right here.
Though for now, before us, not that far off, was another moment of recollection for me.
The Dragon Horde advancing to their Nesting Grounds reminded me of that time. This strange mix of amazement and dread I somehow still felt seeing these scaly behemoths traversing so close to our Faction lands.
I've been having bouts of recollection regarding them since the Migration started. It seemed that I couldn't help but dream.
I knew the face my comrades made was nothing short than horrified when I pointed out, chuckling at the fact as the ever-unpredictable monsters thundered past us, its Alpha and Betas moving swiftly like the deadly pack of teeth, claws, hide and muscles that they are: "Something like that almost killed me when I was little…"
Shan and August immediately: "-WHAT!?"
I could only laugh at their reaction.
I think...I had already forgotten the man.
Chalice Averque, the Trinity Gunner, was no longer my reason for being in this Faction.
I had my own dreams now.
---
Nuker asked us to his office for something and as per usual we were trailed by the other students' stares.
A mix of emotions behind those gazes: stun, amusement, even jealousy which was common. As Shantee, Augustus and myself cajoled our way to where we were to deliver this Gun Unit we'd cleaned and polished earlier.
Picked out from a strong box in storage. It was an old thing actually, but still reliable. It still fires as if it was brand new.
I knew. I did test it out myself earlier.
"Wonder why Nuker wants this," Shantee was musing, counting her steps and skipping on a few.
She was ecstatic today as August was jolly. Unusually so, this trip to our superior's office seemed to fire us up. Like something good was going to happen.
"Who knows?" I shrugged, shifting the case of the Gun Unit to my other hand, feeling a strain building that I had to flex my arm. "This thing is more commemoratory than functional.
"Who uses a weapon no one can even carry anyway?"
The Gun Unit was a dead weight. I even needed help raising it to fire -it was that heavy! Then, when it did discharge, it blew us three away. Literally a few feet away. It was that strong! I think it knocked my socks off.
"Well well...if it isn't the maggots."
We hadn't been called out like that in a while. No one dared to anymore against what some secret following of ours now calls as Nuker's Three. But recently some unsatisfied Shells, mostly failing Seniors and their Underlings, were looking to pick a bone with us.
Luckily enough, we did way better than that, ignoring the insults as we always had or, if we got fed up, turning a smirk towards that direction and returning an equivalent fire.
We, after all, had nothing to lose. We were at the bottom of the ladder, remember? These damned 'aristobrats' however do.
"Oh hey Danny. It seems your aim is not the only thing in need of some fine-tuning," I smirked, Shant and August cackling. "Call on me for a fist-fight if you can hit at least three successive targets with a Lariat all right-?"
"Assuming he can even lift one properly," snickered August.
"I'll dance with you any time!" I winked at him for show, watching the color as it rose to his face. Any more than that and he'd have a vein burst it looked like.
Him and his groupies bristled like cats as we passed them by. Anger. But then that was all it ever amounted to. There's not a soul in the Academy that wanted to challenge us. Not for the reason that we were under Nuker's guidance personally, but because somehow everyone saw that we were prepared to stake our own lives on the line for each other.
They've seen us fight. They knew what we could do. I would not even put past it that some believed that we might become part of the Rogues one day...
"Did you see his face? He was about to explode!"
More laughter as we passed through the halls and the corridors, headed towards the private section reserved for the higher-ups of the Academy.
There was nothing that could dampen the mood, us three moving on from that episode to discussing our respective concerns. We all were almost done with our Railgun Project. Now if only Nuker would lend us the missing pieces. He was suddenly being stingy this week.
"Fer cryin' out loud, you danged saps are takin' too long to get here! What'd you do? Flushed yer heads down the toilets?"
Nuker and his usual.
We laughed some more at the greeting, glad to see that at least he seems to be in a good mood today too. He had his favourite brand of whiskey out.
"We took our time cleaning the Unit, Boss. The polishing needed more work than we expected," Shantee explained as I slid the case onto his desk with one heavy thud, our merry troop of three proceeding to stand before him, awaiting further instructions.
He didn't bother to open it.
Our superior instead merely gave us the verbal equivalent of a middle finger. "Damned excuses. You coulda been done earlier if yer not pickin' them arguments with the Shells."
Then again he knew who was truly picking, smirking at us and then laughing as he stood up and patted the case of the Gun Unit. "Hopefully this pleases yer…
"...Captain."
The word struck us unprepared and, for a while, we all seemed to grimace. 'Captain'? Who was he-
"I'd like to introduce yer sorry lot to someone important to the Faction. Be damned grateful you shitty saps," we all followed the Rogue's motion and were all surprised at who had been observing our exchange this whole time, us three not even noticing until his tall frame had left the spot where he was leaning it against and walked fully into the room.
It was...him!
"Your language is still more colorful than your life, Nuke," said the Trinity, casting us a very piercing glance with his gem eyes.
I have not seen him in a while. How? How could he still have this effect?
My heart all of the sudden skipped a beat at his presence. It hasn't done this in quite a while that I unconsciously clasped a hand over my chest.
Him being here was still...drawing such an effect. I was at a loss. August and Shantee were both speechless. Nuker seemed to understand our situation and merely shrugged.
"These are them Low Lives I told you 'bout," he proceeded with introductions as the Trinity stood beside him, combing a gloved hand through his hair.
I suddenly could not take my eyes off him. "Yer maggots, listen 'ere. This 'ere is Captain Chalice Averque, Head of our Gunnery Faction."