Accidental Healer

“So… Cassie. You mentioned something about drinking earlier?” Nick sat with his feet on the coffee table again.

“Yes I believe I asked if I could drink.” She laughs and pulls a bottle from her dimensional storage. “Not the twelve year old emo boy.”

“Not fair! I am 19, not twelve.”

“That still seems a few chin hairs short of 21 last time I counted.” She shoves him over and flops down next to him kicking her legs up.

“I don’t see how that matters anymore? I’m pretty sure Layton here is technically making the rules for our faction now.” He looks at me and bats his eyes.

“What do you say, Layton? Pretty please?”

Whether I am technically in charge or not is very debatable. We still have no idea the state of the American Government or if we’re even in the country still. But I really couldn’t care less personally if Nick wants to take a drink. I’m pretty curious how the alcohol will interact with his increased constitution.

Cassie wasn’t a great example as a crafter, plus I got the vibe she wasn’t that high of a level anyway.

“Why are you asking me?" I shrugged. "Go for it. I’m curious how your new body will handle it anyway.” Nick snatches the bottle with lightning quick speed.

Cassie glares before shrugging also. “I guess you have a point. Now that you mention it, I'm curious too.”

Nick reads the label. “Ahhh...Tito’s my favorite.”

Cassie snorts. “Just drink it idiot.”

That’s all the invitation Nick needs. He cocks his head back and takes a swig.

"Ghhha—hhgghkk—pfffkkkttt!"

The vodka barely hits his throat before it erupts back out, misting through his nose in a tragic, burning geyser. He chokes, gags, and wheezes, doubled over as his lungs launch a full rebellion.

The room erupts in laughter.

Nick slaps his chest, his face burned red as he hacks like a dying engine. Tears stream down his face—not from laughter, but from pure, unfiltered regret.

"Maybe the boy needs a healer?" Ellison wheezes, clutching his stomach.

Nick thrusts a hand up, to silence the room. He sniffs hard, still recovering, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then, without hesitation, he steels himself for round two.

Before anyone can stop him, he tilts the bottle back again.

At first, he gags it down in slow, painful swallows. Then, as if unlocking some deep, primal rage, he picks up momentum—chugging in a furious, reckless assault.

The laughter dies.

"Nick, hey big guy, maybe you—"

His hand shoots up again, silencing Cassie. A few more chugs and he slams the Vodka onto the coffee table. Tears running down his cheek from the earlier coughing.

“Well, damn.” Cassie lifts the bottle and shakes the mostly empty contents. Nick admires his handy work and a smirk crawls onto his face.

“Now who’s laughing? I basically made that bottle my b–” His eyes grow wide, hands flying to his mouth as he uses every single point of his agility stats to fly to the kitchen sink.

The three of us shared a look as the contents of the bottle Nick had made his “bitch” began to return the favor in the kitchen.

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Ellison laughs so hard he falls out of his chair.

***

Ten minutes later after we were able to convince Nick to try again, I was sitting on the floor while Nick and Cassie sat on the couch together.

Cassie had procured another bottle from her storage and was already seven shots in and it was showing. She lay back on the couch, eyes out of focus smiling.

“You know…this really is kinda bullshit.” Nick said arms folded glaring at Cassie. “Finally I have the chance to drink and I get all of the crappy parts without the getting drunk part.”

“Yooouuuu knowww, maybeh y'should just... juss drink... uhh… mooooorrrrre?”

From our experience we had learned a few important things. One. Nick’s enhanced stats made it much harder for him to experience noticeable effects from earth's alcohol. And two, I had tried to use my healing magic on Cassie once she became drunk and it had no effect.

At first I was confused why I could wake her up after she had passed out but it sort of made sense to me. The toxins were likely out of her system or working their way out and I was just healing the hangover at that point. Like many things in this world I was just guessing though.

It didn’t take long before Cassie passed out again. Nick gave her the couch and she sprawled out on her side. Once she was asleep Nick decided he wanted to get out and to stretch his legs. He wasn’t quite the stealth pro that Mischief had become but at night he was more than capable.

Ellison pulled a candle from his storage, lit it and placed it on a side table. A book appeared in his hand a second later.

Everyone was moving on to their own thing. I sat on the floor peacefully, it had been a fun night with my friends. Cassie was helpful today but she carried a weight on her shoulders. She was sarcastic and friendly but there was a light missing from her eyes. There was a lot that had gone wrong with this faction.

Jordan was a part of that in a big way. The way he led his faction bothered me. But I still wasn’t sure what I should do about it. Part of me wanted to just tell Jordan off and let his faction know that it didn’t have to be this way. But I couldn’t help but feel like I was still missing something.

“Laaaytooonnn.”

-

The sound of Mischief's voice entering my consciousness made me jump slightly. I looked around but I suspected he wasn’t in the house so I exited the back door and made my way to the alley near the murder room.

I didn’t have to wait long before my friend sauntered into view from behind the adjacent shelter.

His sleek black fur played strange tricks on my eyes in the darkness. Even with him not using his stealth skill I felt like I was watching a shadow. A very big, very scary shadow.

“Hello my friend.” I whispered, leaning and sliding down the wall until I was sitting in the dirt. Mischief sat across from me. “How did the spying go?”

“This place is boring.”

“Says you.” I sigh. “I’m pretty sure something weird is going on here.”

“Why do you say that? Because the people here seem grey and lifeless?

Mischief’s description illustrates my thoughts well. But I can’t blame the people. Not entirely. In some ways it is their fault. I find it hard to believe that I would’ve allowed Jordan to manipulate me the same way he has with his faction.

“Yeah. They are being manipulated by Jordan, the faction leader.”

Not just manipulated anymore though now that I think about it. He already has this place the way he wants it I imagine. But why did he maintain pretense?

“The problem is that I don’t have a lot of evidence that he’s doing anything else.” I plucked a blade of grass and began to peel it apart.

“I’m not sure what to do yet. I don’t agree with what he’s doing but it’s just not my faction. What would you do?”

Mischief's tail flicked and he laid forward. “Why don’t you just kill him? Then you could take over the faction and make it better.”

Mischief’s response doesn’t surprise me. Even worse, I had the same thought. It would be the easiest way. Or on the surface it did.

The truth is always more complicated. If I killed Jordan there would be unexpected fallout. He might be a bad ruler but he had followers. But the real reason I didn’t give the thought much consideration was that I didn’t think just being a horrible leader justified an execution.

The easiest way was rarely the right one. Kill Jordan, take over the faction, fix the mess.

But what then? Would I be the next name someone whispered in the dark? Another leader holding power with a knife behind his back?

That wasn’t the kind of world I wanted to build. No, it wasn’t an option.

“Honestly? It crossed my mind, but you know me well enough now to know I could never do that.”

“I knew you would feel that way. Just let me do it.” His eyes flashed in the night.

“People here are already worried about disappearances. He would just be another name on the list.”

I smiled at my friend. Looking at him gave me an idea though. What I really needed was more information on Jordan. I needed to build a strong case to gain leverage. I didn’t want to kill Jordan but I did want to make sure his people knew they had better options then just his faction.

Mischief watched me, unblinking, waiting for my decision.

I exhaled, shaking my head. "You really live up to your name."

His ears twitched, but he didn’t argue.

"Killing Jordan is the easy way out. But if we really want to break his hold, we need to show people why they deserve better."

That got his attention. I grinned. "We need more information on Jordan. Here’s what I think we need to do."