Ultima Ratio

Chapter 33: Sergeant Jivan Gupta

Jivan Gupta was born in Leicester, England, in 2178.

For as long as they've known, they've always been smaller than most, a characteristic that initially led to trouble. They were frequently the target of neighborhood bullies, most notably at the local playground. But the playground was the hottest venue for anyone under the age of thirteen, and Jivan wasn't going to give it up because of some pre-pubescent villains. Instead, they were going to use the one thing their bullies didn't have: brains.

On one particularly humid summer day, Jivan and the other victimized children had their playtime cut short when six criminals-in-the-making rudely interrupted as they always did.

"Why don't you run along now?" one said as they towered over Jivan, having just thrown them off the climbing frame—literally. "Or rather, swim along, Baby Guppy."

Jivan ignored the taste of iron and dirt in their mouth as they pushed themselves upright on the ground. "If you're going to insult me, at least pronounce my name right. Or is that asking too much of you and your pea-sized brain?"

The bully didn't say Jivan was wrong; instead, they made Jivan eat a bit more dirt for good measure.

By the time Jivan relented, the pre-teen gang seemed extra entitled, and they smirked as they watched Jivan and the other children scamper away. They were too thick to notice their victims circling back, hiding in the trees to watch the bullies test out the "new and improved" equipment.

One kid triumphantly swooped down the bright red slide, only to find their trousers smeared with a fresh coat of paint. Another latched onto the climbing frame, then immediately slipped off of the oil-lathered bars. While the seesaw was fully functional, there was dog poop strategically placed where the user's feet would push off, courtesy of another victim's family's Labrador Retriever. The roundabout was rigged to halt abruptly at every half turn, and each of the swing seats were coated with a generous serving of dried fizzy drinks.

According to Jivan's state-of-the-art dinosaur watch, where the T-Rex watchface would wiggle their limbs at the top of every hour, it took the bullies four minutes and twenty-two seconds to vacate the premises.

"Did you see that one brute's face when they stepped in this?" one child exclaimed as they picked up the squished excrement; their voice was nasally from the tissues stuffed in their nostrils. "I thought it was brilliant when they heard that squelching sound, but when they smelled it? That was amazing!"

Jivan grinned in agreement as they wiped away the paint from the slide; they didn't want to speak more than necessary with the odor lingering like a heavy cloud in the summer heat.

"That'll teach them not to mess with us!" another said as they helped take away the rubbish. "Jivan, how'd you even think of this?"

"Well..." A lot of vengeful brainstorming and detailed crayon sketches. "I have my ways."

"Whatever your secret, it's brilliant! We never would've gotten rid of them on our own."

With that unexpected compliment, Jivan felt their chest swell with pride.

While the group spent the next ten minutes cleaning up the devastation that remained, they emerged victorious from the day's battle. Not only that, Jivan became a hero for the neighborhood underdogs—all twelve of them.

Of course, this new status didn't come without repercussions, and the bullies' disdain for Jivan became stronger than ever. But Jivan could handle them; or rather, not handle them with their newfound talent: running away. As it turned out, they were exceptionally quick. That, combined with a knack for locating escape routes only they could squeeze through, made Jivan's infamy rather bearable.