Ma Tsawke

Chapter one

In the midst of the bustling intersection, Jake Sully's gaze fixates vacantly on the shifting traffic lights. With each change in hue, he propels his wheelchair forward, a solitary figure navigating through the ebb and flow of a teeming crowd that engulfs him from all directions. The weight of awareness presses upon him, an acknowledgment of the sea of humanity swirling around his journey.

When I was lying in the VA hospital with a big hole blown through my life. I started having these dreams where I was flying...I was free. Sooner or later though...you always have to wake up.

As the evening shadows envelop his cramped apartment, he begins removing his jacket. The flicker of the broadcast TV casts a dim glow, creating an ambiance of solitude within the confines of his small flat. Nestling into the worn mattress, a reflection of his own sense of diminution in the vast world, he continues with an assertive tug, his trousers surrender to gravity and he delicately raises his legs, gently placing them upon the bed.

His gaze descends numbly, detached from the physical act as the background hum of the television announces the come back of a creature long extinct. The echoes of this reanimation permeate the silence, resonating with the unspoken emotions that linger within the four walls of his intimate space.

Huh. Never thought I'd live to see that.

He observes the baby cubs on the TV with interest as they paw and nuzzle at each other's faces, the parents in the back keeping an eye on them.

I became a marine for the hardships. To be hammered on the angle of life, told myself I can pass any test a man can pass.

Now looking down at his legs in silence, his racing thoughts come to a halt.

Jesus, I need a shot.

On the cold, unforgiving ground, Jake lies sprawled, his gaze fixed upon the remnants of the sky that peek through the aftermath of his violent expulsion. The wheelchair, an unexpected weapon turned against him during the fervour of giving a piece of shit the beating he deserved, lies nearby.

A halo of discarded trash surrounds his head, a stark contrast to the indifference etched across his features. The aftermath of the confrontation has left him beaten and battered but the clutter of discarded debris seems inconsequential compared to the heaviness that rests upon his weary frame. Too beaten to be bothered, he remains motionless.

"I hope you know you just lost yourself a customer!...candy ass bitch." A metro-train passes above his head while he lets his thoughts wander, still panting from the adrenaline from the previous scuffle inside the bar.

All I wanted in my life was a single thing worth fighting for.

The reverberations of approaching footsteps and the subtle splash of water disrupting his stillness reach Jake's senses. Temporarily setting aside the cocoon of his despondent thoughts, he lifts his gaze to meet the sight of two impeccably dressed men looming above him, their presence shrouded in an air of suspicion.

Geez what could these bastards possibly want from me right now.

"Jake Sully?" The taller one questions, his voice cutting through the air, while the other remains engrossed in a screen, nodding in silent confirmation.

"Looks like him." The taller one acknowledges, a subtle tilt of his head as he regards Jake with thoughtful scrutiny.

"You folks here for more tax money? Won't find much on the likes of me." Jake quips, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. The two men exchange glances, a silent look of understanding as the weight of the situation lingers in the air.