On The Scale Of

Chapter 14

If there was one ultimate truth, it's that the universe doesn't want me to get actual sleep.

A series of infuriating buzzes were numbing my brain as I stared at the illuminated ceiling above me, thinking back to all the bad choices I made in the past that brought me to this very moment.

"Pup," The caller said once I ceased the ringing. "Go to the Org's forums, and click on the post titled, 'Cock Fight'. Someone's calling you out."

"What the hell?" I barked. "Do you know what time it is?"

"And? Just do what I tell you."

Girlie, who I soon realized was the one calling, hung up. I unceremoniously buried my phone under my pillow and braced my arms against it, as if I was suffocating the life out of it. I let out a rather pitiful groan as I felt another round of vibrations.

"You're reading the post now, right?"

"Wait, I just... I was peeing," I slurred, rubbing the sleep off my eyes.

"Stop making excuses and read the damn post already."

I detached myself from my cozy bed to search for my laptop in the dark, still heavily dazed from the lack of sleep. A piercing type of pain electrified my brain when my shin collided with the most solid part of the chair in front of me. "SONOFABITCH!"

"Are you drunk? You better not be drunk," Girlie shouted through the phone. I clutched my leg from the otherworldly pain and curled my body in a fetal position. Now I understand what they mean by a millenial's thirst for death 'cause I would love to RIP right about now.

I can still hear Girlie's incessant death threats because for some fucking reason I put her call on speaker mode.

"Jesus Christ, are you crying?"

I sniffed a couple of times. "I'm not crying. You're crying."

"You better get your shit together or else I'm gonna give you something to really cry about."

I cursed her silently and crawled to where my bag pack is. I shuffled through my things and retrieved my Android phone. Ring ring. Hello, I would like to unsubscribe to this monthly subscription of Satan's bloody waterfall of despair. I lied back down on the floor and logged in the website, tears still streaming down my face. Not gonna lie but my life is looking like it's in shambles.

Stupid Girlie. Making me search for a stupid post from a stupid website made by the stupid Org. I navigated the forum with thoughts of murder in my mind and eventually arrived at the thread Girlie's dying for me to read.

Greetings, lovely killers!, it read.

Due to popular demand, I have finally decided to call out Girlie on a one-on-one match. But since it's already clear that I'm far more superior, I propose her so-called student to step up and take on my protégé Klep to see who has the better mentor. And since it wouldn't be fair to Girlie, I will give myself a handicap. She gets to choose the challenge. Whoever loses shall pay the winner a sum of ten thousand dollars and the winner gets to pick one gun from the loser's collection. 

"That bitch wants my limited edition 1928 golden-plated AWM that I snatched from the Yakuza. There's only like what? Five of them in the world?" Girlie hissed through the speaker.

I only caught on the words golden and five. "What does this have to do with me? "

"Use your head, girl. You're gonna face that tramp's dog, and you're gonna win."

My brain lagged for a moment before finally processing the info. My reflexes forced me to quickly sit up from my position to stop myself from choking on my own saliva.