6. P R O D I G A L : Redemption

CHAPTER III

DAY THIRTY-ONE

Tián poked her head into the bedroom to find Addison shirtless and doing pushups on the floor. His hair was still styled in the bun she'd given him during his unconscious spell, but his body was no longer weak and nigh-atrophied. His muscles had grown rapidly (thanks to the Phoenix, no doubt) and he was now borderline buff. Probably thanks to my workout routine, too, Tián added to herself, admiring her "handiwork".

Addison paused at the top of a pushup and shot her a look. "I'm sorry—can I help you?"

"No, no. Carry on," Tián told him, waving her hand dismissively.

"Too late. You broke my rhythm." Addison sat down at the foot of the bed, breathing heavily. "What's up?"

"I had a feeling you were getting... oh, what do you call it... 'cabin fever'." Tián looked around the room, which was now beyond cluttered with books. "It appears I was right. This place is a mess."

"Zhè shì ni de cuò. You gave me all these books."

Tián ignored the quip. "If you're looking for something productive, why don't you head out to the Huo District? There's plenty to do out there."

"Oh, yeah. And plenty of people." Addison stood up and grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from his arms with it. "You know I'm trying to keep a low profile."

"Then you're just going to stay here?"

Addison paused, looking up and staring at the wall vacantly. "You know... there is one thing I've wanted to do," he confessed.

"What's that?"

Addison turned to Tián, his gaze becoming intense. "I want to fight."

-

Addison stared at the tattoos and then at the artist. "Is that really necessary?" he whimpered.

He, Tián, and Xiao Lang stood in a tattoo parlor in the Huo District. The latter two had taken Addison there to get him a dragon, which they claimed was necessary to affiliate him with the Xishuangbanna Protectors. Tián had just shown him the dragon and gryphon tattoos that wrapped around her arms, and Addison was suddenly feeling less enthusiastic about joining them.

"You vant to fight?" rumbled the tattoo artist, a Russian-Chinese man nicknamed "Izo"—which, Addison had learned, was short for "Izobrazitel'noye Iskusstvo", meaning "art" in Russian.

"Well... I mean... yeah."

"Then get tattoo." Izo held up his pen. "Both arms, or from chest to wrist?"

"What kind of choice is that?!" Addison cried.

-

Tián and Xiao Lang sat next to Addison as he sat in the chair, sweating profusely while Izo tattooed his right pectoral muscle. "Relax," Izo ordered. "Shaking is no good for tattoo."

"Right. Sorry. It just—AH!—it hurts, okay?"

"Try talking," Xiao Lang suggested. "It distracts you from the pain."

"Okay... talk about what?"

Xiao Lang leaned toward him. "Why do you want to fight?"

Addison's expression gradually became solemn at that. "I took a lot of lives through my actions as Vision," he answered, his voice thick with shame and regret. "I want to go back to saving them."