(All of this conversation occurs in Spanish, translated for convenience of course)

Julio was sent to Miami after talking with The Contractor, and accepting his Gift. April had still multiple hours before coming back home from school. Before entering his house, Julio sneaked around the back, and he pulled out Filo, the fountain pen, marked and surrounded in silver engravings. He'd take a deep sigh before twirling it three times. 

From the tip of the pen, a blast of ink shot out, but instead of falling, orbited around the pen, creating a new form as it formed a black mass, changing color and durability, as it transformed into a bastard sword. Using one hand, he'd hold the sword up right. Julio looked at the blade in awe and amazement, before regaining focus once more.

-Look, name's Julio, I know yours. The Contractor told me already, thought you heard-" Julio was interrupted by the raspy, rusty voice of Filo that barked at him. 

-Of course I heard him! Couldn't get over his grating voice!- The sword sighed deeply. -This is my inmost cave moment! Oh, but he would not understand!- Julio chuckled slightly at this, as Filo stopped sighing, responding: 

-Oh? You understand Filo, yes? Writer?- Filo said with an excited voice.

Julio silently nodded, closely looking at the engravings near the blade. -Something like that. Haven't written in a while, and don't think I will soon.- Filo now took an euphoric, dramatic tone.

-But the talent remains! With that attitude you won't write a single word, of course. Say, Julio. You need maybe something else to focus on while you wait for inspiration. This is your call to action!- Filo said, almost as if he recited a song. If he had hands he would've moved them wildly while saying this. 

-What are you even saying, Filo?- Julio asked, now holding the sword up to his face with one hand. 

-You have to practice with the blade, why of course. And I'm it! You have a lot to learn, but don't fret! I'll teach you as we go.- Julio nodded to this, reaching his hand for his electronic cigarette. 

-We'll begin with- Please give me some of that. Please. Please Julio.- Said Filo, interrupted by the smoke that emerged. Julio would blow a cloud straight at the sword, as Filo sighed in relief. -Julio, keep giving me smokes and you'll be a sword master in no time.-

And now, Julio began to use Filo, practicing proper form, posture and techniques. He'll hide it later on his jacket, when April comes, every day, every time available, until his next Contract.

Miami, May 28th.

Man, second mission. I can't go into specifics about it, signed a non disclosure agreement after all. What I can say is that I met two other contractors, a knight and a woman. Both did their part greatly. In fact, they saved me from a tight spot near the end. Seemed more like the knight's idea, and now I owe a favor. But it's better than having to fight for who knows how long. 

Sir Seymor Alonso invited me to his "Court of Knights". He may be crazy, but he's a sword fighter like no other I've seen. Not even in the YouTube tutorials. And he seems honorable, especially considering our line of work. I accepted this invitation, with the possibility of having this Quixote-like knight train me. I hope any other members that join him in the future are not as crazy as this. 

But I'm still alive. And that means I still have lots more to train. Especially with the new gifts I have been given. Just gotta keep practicing, keep taking more contracts. Keep staying alive, just as before, and even if it takes time, I'll get strong enough to protect the closest ones to me.

My family's starting to wonder why I've been getting stronger recently. They say my eyes look even more motivated than before. I threw the bullshit excuse that I began to attend the gym. My sister April has been wondering about the jobs I take, but I've been saying they're all under NDAs, so might as well keep this act. 

(Once again, all of this is in Spanish!)

I was in my backyard once more, holding my sword with one hand, as with the other I gave some puffs to Filo, as he sighed with relief of feeling the nicotine pass his body. I had a question for the last couple of days, that I wanted to know about. 

-Question, Filo. How do you breathe the smoke?- 

The talking sword let out a small cough, as he instantly replied, the flat side of his blade meeting with my forehead: 

-You don't have to worry about that.- I could've sworn his voice pitched down for a moment. I stood in silence for a couple of seconds, then shrugged. It's still a sword. Filo now asked about the new gift that was given to me after the mission. I could not hide my smile as I pulled out the black ring, putting it on my left hand, middle finger. 

My lower are felt odd for a moment, feeling my body surge with energy. Shortly after, without any pain, a tentacle rested at my tail bone, acting as a tail. The purple, tentacle suckers faced the ground, with a dark purple body adorning it, giving off an eldritch feel. At the very tip of it, a burly, sharp, almost metal-like part rested.

-Ah! Lovecraftian!- Said the talking sword, in an excited voice.

-I wonder...- As my tail swayed, I targeted an empty plastic table on my backyard. The tail took a minute to respond to my commands, but it smashed down on the table, not only piercing it, but breaking it in half. Filo was even more excited now. 

-And we can use it to fight! Julio, we have no time to waste. You have to train this new ability!- 

And I did. Not because the sword said so, just in case. But I can feel this would come in handy.

Miami, May 31st.

I have to write about this, my hands are trembling from excitement. I had not yet received the Gift from The Talent, and was getting desperate by this point. I was smoking some green with Filo after our sword practice, when I felt one of the books call to me, as it glowed with pulsing light. I could hear the pulsing on the back on my head. Taking the book out, it was Julio Cortázar's "Bestiary" collection, and the pages opened up immediately to "Cefalea". One of my favorite short stories, where Cortázar had made up a species called the mancuspia, which gives multiple head troubles and sicknesses when being tend to. But highly profitable on the market. The story is about two farmers trying to make it through the harsh days in the rural farm they lived in, all while dealing with the cefalea and a myriad of conditions. A critique on our society's need for useless, actually harmful things, while we do not care for the ones who provide this goods. 

At least that's what I think, maybe I'm looking too much into it. Anyways. I could now feel empty paper call to me, at my hand. Grabbing at a sticky note with my free hand, the book in the other, text from Cefalea, tiny in size, was engraved on the small piece of paper. It described to details the names of the made up diseases in the story: Nux Vomica, Aconitum, Camphora monobromata, and a whole other impossible names. It disappeared to dust as soon as the last word was set. 

I don't know what's this yet. I'll have to try it soon, though, and keep practicing my combat.