i. The Limit Does Not Exist

Go to Japan they said. I just know you'll love it they said. Yeah whatever. This place was as dull as the upper east side while sober. Nightlife? Nonexistent to a fault. Not like the daytime scene was much of anything to make an effort at either. It was almost as if the natives thought of going out to eat as a past-time. Where was the excitement? Where was the energy? Staying in your lane is cool and all but once the thin veil of docile acceptance fades, what's left but an unfulfilled shell of a person? Pretty boring as far as James was concerned. So what's a bored American fish out of water to do? A casual stroll through the local prefecture was about as lively as it got in the wee hours of 3am. Cigarette in hand, earphones at full blast, James was in a world all his own and damn the fool to try to set him off tilt. James managed to sneak onto the humongous roof that overlooked one of the larger courts and their sports field. A tall gate blocked any wouldbe jumpers; yet another barrier to some spice in this country. Inhale. "Lame ass country I swear." Exhale.

A flick of the wrist and ashes danced whismsically along the dull breeze. Inhale. "...What the hell was that?" Exhale. A sensation like death creeping up your spine made James' hairs stand. An instant shift from the bored-out-of-my-skull James. His eyes darted about through his box-frame glasses attempting to suss out the source of the disturbance.

Oh that's just grand. A small collective of no-name hollow were scurrying about in the quad area below. Had a whiff of James' lovely aroma perhaps? No matter. Small fry none the less. James hopped from his seated position to his feet and pivoted queerly graceful on his heel. A delicate reach up to his glasses and a resounding snap motion away from his face; the matter of Harrier At Play eroded into vapor as his trusted sniper rifle materialized in his arms.

"Four meters out. 43 degree downward angle. Approximately 3 feet between them each.
Easiest shots of my life." James nimbly adjusted the stock of the rifle to his shoulder and peeked through the scope. I count six shots.

1. A resounding boom pierced the silent night. A screeching howl rang vibrantly. A howl on deaf ears but music to James. 2. A click of the trigger signaled the next resonant bang. 3. Wow has James even blinked yet? 4. The tension he felt in his shoulder as the recoil gave him repeated love taps made his heart flutter. No lover could compare.
5. Oh, so he does blink! 6. Another forceful groan hovered about the gentle draft. An ultimately disappointed sigh erupted from the fullbringer. Even James wasn't quite so sure if he was upset at the disturbance of peace itself or the weak nuisance that caused it. He just knew he didn't have enough stoges left in his pack to get it through the longing and insomnia that drove him on his late night walk in the first place.

Another shiver. This one more intense. Like a sort of paralyzing cringe that lasted a second and simultaneously an eternity. James swung his rifle dramatically with his left hand and rested it casually over his right shoulder as he reached in his pocket for the glorious little box that held his cigs. Light another one up. Cancer's all the rage these days! Inhale. He still couldn't shake that feeling. Exhale. Several drags of the white cancer stick later and he still felt on edge.

A couple minutes passed and a silence in his headphones forced the eerie vibe to set in. As James went to reach for his cell phone pocket it hit again. Stunning. His eyes saw another group of scrub hollowkin below but this group was. . .were they running? To or from something? James grew slightly pissed at the lack of an apparent source of what petrified him. Fear had a vicegrip on James without any indication as to what was to blame. Then he saw it.
Unlike anything he'd ever imagined in existence. And he'd seen some pretty messed up stuff in his short lifespan.
A hollow with a nose like Pinocchio. Taller than any skyscraper in the city. More ominous than any hollow he'd slain without so much of a drop of sweat on his brow.

"What the hell is that?! Move damn it! Why can't I aim, or run. . .or ANYTHING?!??!
What the fuck is this?!"

David? Yeah. Meet your Goliath. Have fun! The weight of his rifle that normally felt like an extension of himself now felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders. The comforting smoke rising from his cigarette turned to a blinding haze. Not to mention that as he stood there facing down death itself, the cigarette continued to burn.
Yikes. Petrified AND he felt the skin on his fingers getting singed away. Sorry Mr. Brightside, not quite your lucky day. It took a step. Boom. A low rumbling growl escaped its white lips. Boom. Another step.
James was in its sights and it crept ever closer. Tears welled up in those big hazel pools. A red light appeared in the monster's mouth. Almost beautiful how the red orb contrasted against the glossy hazel of his eyes. Oh wait he might die. Oops.

"Move. Not like this. Ain't my time to go. Move.

. . .

Dad didn't die for me to lose to this monster. Move.

. . .

I STILL HAVE TO KILL HIM!!! NO F*CKIN' WAY I DIE HERE. NOW MOVE!!!"

The mental pep talk must've done the trick. The red orb in the hollow's mouth disappeared for a second and in a blink a massive beam blasted down at James. Thankfully for David in this situation, he was able to dive to the side and avoid the brunt of the blast. A bit of a banged up shoulder and his hand was still burnt but hey! He was alive.
Mentally tortured, but alive nonetheless! He stumbled to his feet and ran down the stairs away from the roof that the hollow was blasting at. Hand still burning. But screw that! Adrenaline was carrying him. Once he made it to the ground level he finally examined his hand. It was. . .it was glowing!? And a small red orb of his own had been formed??? This night just got weirder and weirder. The burning sensation he felt wasn't on his fingers but dead center in the palm of his hand. The adrenaline he felt? Nothing of the humane sort that pumped through his blood. No. This felt more. . .powerful. Like something dormant had sublimed to the surface and empowered him down to his core. In a fit of frightful rage, James threw the feeble little pebble looking orb at the massive beast. A few meters out as the tears that found residence in his eyes rolled down the curvature of his cheeks, he saw the small red orb explode and splinter off into countless red shards that impaled the beast. James mustered up enough composure to aim Harrier At Play and fired several shots dead center of the hollow's mask. Not like he really needed good accuracy to drill into a target this size anyways. The recoil jostled more tears free from their reservoirs.

Congratulations David! That Goliath wasn't so scary now was he? As the massive beast toppled over simultaneously fading with the wind into gray specks of dust. James sunk to his knees. No sound. Nothing but the heaven trap mix blaring through his headphones. No moaning or sobbing. Just silent tears raining down on the concrete.

Congratulations David. You've realized that the limit does not exist.