The Mistakes of Youth [Closed]

It was a damn shame that Xinrui had never been much of a sportsman in his school years - if only he had been, he may well have found an earlier, healthier outlet for his contentious streak.

But at least he found it here: in a residential area with a name he could neither remember nor pronounce properly, on a cool late-summer evening. He had not been out drinking that night but he did have a taste of Scotch (a very modest measure of Talisker) before leaving his flat; while wine made him sluggish, whisky sharpened his senses and hastened his movements without making him jittery. It also kept his excitement in check.

This excitement, while mildly perverse, was only to be expected: the path decided for him at birth was as mundane as it was linear and while problems encountered in the boardroom were often substantial, they were all illusory, ersatz - existing only on a screen or a balance sheet. There was no immediacy or any tangible threat like loss of limb. They were issues that would be dealt with in good time and by the capable people beneath him.

But here, acting as a Quincy, the stakes actually meant something. They were immediate. It was life or death, victory or oblivion. It engaged all of Xinrui’s senses and, indeed, he partook in these hunts with a sensual pleasure and an ever-curious hunger for more. Here, he could inhale the scent of blood after a kill, savour the acid reflux after a particularly intense burst of activity, and hear the guttural screams of creatures after his life. It was perfume. Nectar. Music.

Xinrui did not identify as a full-time hedonist but the world was often a playground to him and he made sure to play in it with nerve and surety. Fortune favours the bold, and good fortune in this case was progress -- although any boldness in question had somehow (and perhaps unfortunately) translated itself into a reckless abandon. He had previously demonstrated some restraint for his first foray into Hollow Bait but that was several weeks ago and with diligent practice and accumulated experience, his inhibitions naturally shrank. Supplementing his hunts with the bait had put him on a fast-track to the growth he so yearned for and, given his own perceived successes, there was no reason not to continue.

On the other hand, his decision to make a routine of holding his Sunday hunts was hardly one of genuine care for the community -- rather, it was motivated almost solely by convenience. While a quiet evening did mean no collateral damage as far as others lives were concerned, Xinrui saw this less as keeping the community out of harm's way and more the local populace not getting in his way and interrupting his training.

His choice of Sundays also did nothing to prevent the damage to nearby buildings and other miscellaneous infrastructure. He did, however, leave cheques for the business-owners to cover the cost of repairs and also a little extra for any inconvenience caused; Xinrui was not always a pleasant young man but he held these sorts of gestures in high regard. It was only fair that he took some responsibility for his actions even if his general view of the world had more than its fair share of selfish quirks.

Existing in harmony with his egocentric thrill-seeking was -and this came as a surprise even to himself- a degree of seriousness and studious vigour when it came to testing his limits as a Quincy. He took meticulous notes on anything worthy of further thought though his observations on Hollow Bait and Seele Schneider held the most depth. On the former, Xinrui had noted his selection of bait to be comprised of varying dosages and strengths. He had initially tried the disc-shaped baits and they had proven to be the most potent thus far - prompting the most frenzied response from Hollows and even attracting a long-nosed behemoth on one occasion. The 'sugar cubes' from last week had been less impressive, attracting only the small-fry: reptilian creatures more vermin and pest than genuine threat.

A wasted evening. Xinrui thought, grimacing.

His grandmother's journals were scattered, incomplete, and cryptic, meaning much of his study into Hollow Bait had been an unguided affair. He had high hopes for the rest of this menu-of-sorts, however, and he presently held a marble-like pellet between a thumb and index finger. He inspected it with a look of bemusement, willing it to not be another letdown.

But before he could activate it, he sensed a nearby flicker of anger and disapproval. It was a restrained, tempered blip in his extrasensory radar but it was sharp enough to intrigue him even if he could not yet see this new arrival. A simple observer? Or a competitor?

Reaching into his coat for a flat metallic tin that read Barkley's Tastefully Intense Mints - CINNAMON, Xinrui promptly removed one additional pellet of Hollow bait and crushed it along with the other, making a white-knuckled fist.

And what are you going to do about it?

Xinrui grinned in silent provocation, fighting the urge to immediately form his spirit weapon lest the stranger learn too much about his abilities too quickly. Besides, it would take a little while until the hordes would arrive in all their unholy glory even if he could already hear their distant roars. It was a sound much louder than he was expecting and, shrugging to no-one in particular, he briefly wondered whether his decision to use two servings of bait -of an unknown dosage, no less- was really a wise one.

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