Leashed and locked away, such was the life of a forgotten poet.
With lungs that wanted to sound out, scream and yell words of passion for everyone to hear, forced to catch dust and lay still. Constantly teased by the inspiring flow, forever unable to control when and where to unleash the song of lead and dust.
Alas, such was the life of a forgotten poet.
Twirling amongst the harsh conditions, carried wherever by his deaf patron, who was unwilling to listen to his orchestra of death and doom. Taken from his homeland, forced to serve a tyrant with no appreciation for his grand music.
Such was the life of a forgotten poet.
Oh, how many nights had he spent, praying to a higher power that a true lover of the finer arts shall come and pick him up, nestle him gently in their arms and cherish, letting his words ring out all throughout the land - followed along by a crimson painter, staining the world red. How beautiful it would be, to soar through the night sky once more, to sound out, bringing a symphony of destruction anywhere he went.
He could only sit still and dream - such was the life of a forgotten poet.
Something ruffled. Something shook.
The forgotten poet’s humble abode tore in two, making way for the sun’s bright glimmer to bounce off his steel finish.
A hand of its silent patron moved towards his wooden grip. Was this a dream?
A mare? An illusion?
Out, away from his prison he went, raised high into the air, amidst a golden sea of sights and smells - flesh and blood, steel and fire. The forgotten poet felt right at home.
He wanted to scream. To shout, to yell and to celebrate. Thankfully, his patron decided to show kindness that very day. A slender finger lovingly caressed his safety switch.
BANG!
A gunshot tore through the bazaar’s clamor, shattering its loud, violent mundanity. Andy gripped his gun tight and threw his cloaks to the side, watching as one of the devils in front doubled over, leaking blood from his stomach. The other three frantically reached for their newly acquired battle rifles, shouting unintelligible words of turmoil and amok.
The biggest, baddest one had already grasped the trigger, pointing the muzzle towards the boy and squinting his left eye.
Click.
No avail - an empty chamber and no arts affinity made it impossible for him to fire. An explosion of originium dust followed, as Andy sent a tiny lead projectile into the giant’s skull. He fell to the ground, clutching the entry wound with the last remnants of his living will.
The rest threw their guns away, seeing just how ineffective they were. One’s grasp tightened around an oversized blade behind their back, the other swung a houndbeast trap connected to a long, rusty chain around, twirling it in the air like a lasso. Andy barely managed to dodge the steel teeth inching way too close for comfort, almost grazing his sun-kissed skin. It tore the hood off his head, latching onto the fabric with its bloodthirsty fangs.
The merc threw himself to the side, with Vinny gracefully slamming against his back at full force. Embracing the tough landing, he found himself lying next to Seven, who still hadn’t fully collected himself after all that “jumping” from place to place. Spit forming at his mouth, heart beating like a black metal drummer’s fill, Andy prepped his elbows up on the boy’s chest, using him as a stand for Nuffer, to let him continue his longed-for rampage.
Another few gunshots pierced the air, sending the large swordsman tumbling down to the ground, holding onto his massive, armored chest. Thank Law the bullet managed to penetrate!
All the noise seemed to wake the boy up, as he frantically turned towards Andy, eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. Their gazes locked for just a moment before the rusty bear trap’s blunt side flew into the angel’s head, knocking him backwards and causing quite the concussion. The world dimmed for a few moments, as his vision filled with tiny starts floating right above him. His grip on Nuffer faltered for a second or two, before his fingers came alive again, filled with the unending vigor of a youth willing to do anything to survive.
The bounty hunter twirled his twisted weapon around his fist, eager to strike the angel right in his hooded face. Andy’s vision blurred and all that he could see was the devil’s grimace planted in between the three dots of his gun’s iron sights. He squeezed the trigger and focused entirely on the bullet inside the chamber, giving it a little nudge to fly off into the perp’s ugly mug.
Click.
His eyes went wide at the treacherous sound. It jammed.
He managed to curse out Nuffer one last time before a heap of iron crashed against his face, sending him flying backwards. He managed to land on his back, eyes filled with tears of pain, a little stream of blood already running down his forehead, through his cheeks and leaking onto the sand below. He watched in impotence as the devilish reaper above him rushed forward, holding the metaphorical scythe high above his head, spinning through the air with a loud whirring noise. With a drawn out step, he passed by Seven, who clutched onto something underneath the folds of his poncho.
Just before the hound-trap’s teeth could sink into the angel’s pale face, before the heap of iron could be brought down from the heavens to strike the sinner below, the devil screamed out in pain and fell to his side.
Seven, prepped up on his elbow, stuck his blade into the hunter’s calf, piercing clean through. Still breathing heavily and moving like a wounded dog, the boy rose to his knees and snatched the sword from within the perp’s leg. He raised it above his head and slammed down with all his feeble might - it clung and sparked a few glimmers, hitting against the rusty chain, held up by the persistent hunter as a way of protecting himself.
Another hit, another plume of sparks and more heavy breaths.
Andy blinked a few times, just now realizing that he in fact was still alive. His brain went into overdrive, as he cleared the jam in a split second and put the muzzle of his gun against the side of the bounty hunter’s skull.
Bang.
Nuffer sung out in joy, spitting out a spoonful of lead. A crimson river spilled from the devil’s head.
And for a few moments, there was silence. Complete and utter silence.
Andy stood up, grasping his chin to rub out the pain in his face. Seven kept hastily taking irregular breaths, broken by an occasional hitch here and there. His angelic friend helped him up to his feet.
“We’re leaving. C’mon.”
“Just a moment… I’m s-sorry, please, just a moment…”
The boy slumped to the side, holding himself up by the blade of his sword, digging deeper into the sand below. Andy hastily threw the tiny swordsman’s arm over his shoulders, grasped his waist and pulled up, forcing the boy to lean against his frame. They had no time for breaks, not now.
A crowd had already started gathering by the scene of the shootout, whispering amongst themselves and pointing accusatory fingers at the two boys. The gun salesman peeked from behind his counter, eyes wide with disbelief at the sight of one of his own guns causing such mayhem right before his very stand. One hell of an advertisement, though.
“That’s them, yeah.”
“Them? Like, them-them?”
“Has to be them.”
“You got a poster? Is it them?”
“I heard it’s them…”
Such whispers arose from within the crowds as Andy and Seven pushed their way through, diving underneath the elbows and grabby fingers of anyone who tried to stand in their way. Their short, small frames made for perfect means of blending in, mixing with the moving mass of flesh, staying underneath the surface of curious faces and nosy eyes. Neither of them knew where to go.
“ ‘S ‘em! Git ‘em! “
A rough scream shoved all whispers aside, followed by a tantrum of heavy footsteps. Some hotshots were already trying to seize the opportunity at capturing themselves a crisp one and a quarter million shekels. Andy’s eyes darted back towards the disturbance, seeing a group of rough, tattered mercs, skimpily dressed in desert-scaler attire. Both men and women, gargoyles, goliaths, even a lone vampire here and there, all diving headfirst into the bustling crowds, elbowing away, pushing aside the salespeople and honest Scar Market dwellers alike, eyes locked on a certain point above Andy’s head.
He looked up, noticing the ring of light above his head, now on full display.
Tch.
He tore the cloak off his back, letting his wings free - no point in keeping those annoying restraints on, anymore.
“Seven? C’mon, pick up the pace a bit, please…”
“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…”
Andy gritted his teeth, as the poor boy kept apologizing and apologizing. He felt the swordsman’s heart beating right out of his chest, as they remained closely pressed together, running through the main market square, through the busy crowds minding their own business. More and more shouting kept rising from all sides, armed mercenaries popping up here and there like mushrooms after a heavy downpour.
A crossbow bolt flew in between their heads, just barely grazing Seven’s straw hat. He jerked his head to the side, reaching for the scabbard inside his poncho.
“No, no, hey! Hey, no fighting! We need to leave, or we’re dead!”
“...”
Without a word, he slid the sheathe back inside. It disappeared among the ocean of folds, hidden deep amongst the stolen vegetables and meats he carried within. Little by little, the pile he had in his arms kept decreasing in size, as he kept dropping more and more food with each step forward. Andy uttered a little yelp at the sight of their monthly supplies getting lost amidst the crowd, as he ran forward, forcefully dragging Seven along.
“Cut them off! Up front!”
“Off wiff’ ‘em! Throw ‘em a bone!”
A wall of mercenaries arose from seemingly nowhere, obstructing what Andy assumed was their only way out. He grasped Seven tightly, pushing his wrist forward and to the side, taking a drastically sharp right, diving into a bunch of food stalls.
Sizzling, melting, frying, the hot pans’ contents went flying as the two burst through the makeshift kitchens, accompanied by vulgar screams of the furious owners and cooks. Their frustrations were immediately drowned out by the rampaging wave of sarkaz mercenaries that followed suit, trampling their little stalls to pieces, iron drawn, chasing down the two boys. Bolts, arts, even bullets, flew, all barely missing by a hair, all messily fired without much aiming while running.
The angel whipped his gun out once more, firing off a few blind rounds over his shoulder, sending bullet after bullet into the pursuing crowd, until the magazine ran empty. He took another glance - the wave of raging flesh was still as prominent as ever. Right, they went, losing track of the hunters - another few sharp turns left them out of sight, completely. At last, they took a sharp left, finding themselves sandwiched in a long corridor between two large huts of plywood and linen.
“... Seven, you alright?”
Andy pressed his back against the wooden surface, looking up at the scorching hot sun. Sweat rained upon his face, hanging off the tips of his curls and running down his neck, to sink into his worn and tattered shirt. The boy gave a simple nod, still holding onto the last few remnants of their “shopping spree”, having lost most of it along the way. It didn’t matter, though. Leaving this hellhole in one piece was the main goal here.
“We’re gonna have to… By Law, I don’t know… We could book it for the merc lines? Take a bus? I don’t know, this thing’s still going, it won’t stop. Not now, at least, when they know we’re here.”
Out of options and out of time, Andy slid down onto the sand, clutching his head with both hands. Think, moron, think…
“Merc lines, Seven. Need to get to the merc lines. Shouldn’t be too far from here, yeah?”
A nod, again. Poor guy was pale all over, barely breathing.
“Yeah. Yeah! Just… Get to the merc lines, find a bus… We’ll just… Pay off the driver, yeah? Ask him to just give us a ride and…”
Something rumbled deep within the wall in front.
“... And that’s it. And then we ditch this desert, okay? We just move up north or… Or something. Okay, Seven?”
No response.
“Seven…?”
His sharp eyes were drilling into the wall in front, as a thumping noise quickly approached. Andy grasped Vinny’s stock, getting a light feel of the wooden surface before it all went to shit.
A gigantic mass of meat and bone tore through the puny little wall of fake wood, like a cannonball through paper. Tall, casting a shadow twice the angel’s size down upon him, as muscular as they come, with empty, hungry eyes and horns as thick and sharp as a grand spear. Before the merc could swipe the gun off his shoulder, a thick, rock-hard bundle of fingers wrapped around his throat, clutching as tight as a pair of hellish pliers, squeezing the life right out of him.
As Andy gasped in pain, his own hands shot towards the massive fist of steel around his throat, grabbing, pulling and trying to tear it apart with his dirty nails. To no avail, as his attempts failed to even put the lightest of dents in the creature’s thick skin. Seven immediately dropped any supplies that were still resting comfortably in his arms, grabbing his blade and throwing the sheathe to the side. With the grace and elegance of a professional figure ice skater, he swung at the beast, aiming right where its heart should be.
THUD!
With a whoosh of its massive arm, the devil simply flicked the poor boy away, laying him out on the floor like a pancake. He whimpered in pain, clutching onto a lump protruding from his chest underneath his poncho. Andy has never heard him produce such an unpleasant, weak sound, which only further fueled his will to survive. One hand grasped the giant’s grip, the other traveled down to his ankles, reaching for W’s combat knife. Barely grasping the handle, he pulled it from its sheath and slammed it as hard as he could against the creature’s wrist.
“...”
“...”
They locked gazes, its bottomless wells filled with nothing but bloodlust and hunger staring into Andy’s gray tear-makers. A slight grimace of annoyance sprawled over its face, as the creature cocked their arm back, lifting the angel up in the air.
All and everything immediately exited his lungs as the devil slammed him into the plywood hut behind, shattering yet another wall and sending the merc flying through the dusty interior. He rolled across the bug-infested carpets lining the floor, still tightly clutching onto his knife.
“... Stabbed me, did ya? Ya lil’ bugger.”
The giant stepped through the half torn wall, specks of dust floating in the sunrays lazily creeping into the room from behind his back. It felt unnaturally stuffy, almost suffocating. Andy grasped his neck, feeling a sharp pain when his fingers slid against the bruises left by the behemoth’s iron grasp.
“And I’ll do it again, y-you…”
“Will ya? How ‘bout now?”
From behind his massive back, he pulled Seven, holding him like some stuffed toy. The boy kept wriggling and squirming in his grasp, trying to bite through the creature’s thick skin like some feral animal. His slim tail went haywire, flicking all over the place. The hunter flicked his nose with those huge, thick fingers of his. Seven recoiled back, specks of blood gathering at the base of his nostrils.
“Put him down. Put him down, now!”
Andy reached for his rifle, only to find it missing. His fingers kept grasping at the empty air, trying to materialize the gun back into existence.
“Naw, mate. Gonna stomp his face in, then deal with ya, ya cheeky cunt. Gonna watch ya mate die, how’s that? Sounds like some grade A entertainment to me.”
His toadish cackle echoed through the hut as he threw Seven to the ground with a soft thud. The boy looked towards Andy, then the giant, who was already raising his steel-toed boot to crush his skull.
It felt as if time had stopped for a moment or two. Wide eyed, the angel’s eyes kept darting to and from Seven to the giant, completely and utterly lost. Powerlessness took over his body as a certain tragic, catastrophic day seeped into the highest layer of the memory stack hidden inside his brain. A half-devil, half-angel's throat torn to shreds before his very eyes. And he stood there, unable to do anything. Unable to move. Unable to shoot. This time, there was no one by his side to urge him to do anything. No one to guide his hand towards his holster. His eyes met Seven’s.
Nothing. Complete emptiness, behind those dark, bottomless pits.
Andy couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His hand instinctively reached into the pocket of his cargos, precisely grasping one, singular nine millimeter bullet.
The other dropped the knife and wrapped its fingers around Nuffer, urging the bard to let a melody of death ring out once again. He responded in kind, slide already racked back.
Andy slid the bullet inside the chamber. His hand shot forward, locked on the mass of flesh in front.
But it was too late.
Tick.
THUMP!
“...”
The hunter tilted his unnaturally massive head, staring at the shoe. No blood, no cracked skulls, no nothing. Just a tiny, barely noticeable trail of blue paint twirling in the air.
Seven was gone.
“... Ah, shit. Guess it’s just me and ya, now, Lawie.”
Sinister eyes turned to glance into the boy’s soul. A wide grin stretched on the monster’s twisted face.
“Ya lil’ friend left ya. Ain’t that something.”
His hand holding the gun began shaking a little. With a metallic click, he dropped the slide and focused his entire will on the bullet. His heart crashed against his ribs, unable to contain itself.
The fiend lashed forward, taking the bright flash of light and loud gunshot in like it was nothing. The bullet got lodged into the side of his face, barely managing to pierce the skin. Andy saw his own halo go dim, as he suddenly found himself with no air in his lungs to breathe.
The monstrous mass grabbed onto his leg, dragging the merc back a bit and then throwing over his shoulder, slamming into the ground, like a sack of potatoes. He yelped in pain, trying to crawl away from the certain death waiting behind.
No such luck, as the giant simply cackled and grasped his shoes, pulling him right back into the middle of the stuffy room.
“Ooooh, no, ya don’t. Ya got one hell of a bounty on yer head, ya know that?”
Andy spat out some blood and jerked his legs to the side, desperately trying to set himself free. Nothing managed to make the grasp of iron falter.
“I k-know.”
“Then why’d ya come here, ya moron? You know where you are, right now?”
“I d-do…”
“Then ya must be outright suicidal, pal! Ya cheeky, little angel, ya…”
As the hunter kept dragging him across the floor, Andy felt a wooden, cylindrical shape graze his fingers. They immediately clutched onto the knife’s handle, holding on like a shipwreck survivor to a piece of driftwood.
“Gotta admit, though… Ya shot me good, Lawie. Almost felt something.”
“Y-Yeah…”
“Now look at ya! All sprawled out on the floor, scurrying away like a lil’ worm.”
“C-Can’t do much else…”
“Oh, innit right, mate.”
“... Could try doing… This!”
With one last supply of hidden vigor, Andy bent himself in half, throwing his body towards the giant. With one, messy stab, he managed to stick the knife into his hand, digging deeper into the wound he previously managed to inflict. The hunter flinched in pain and let go, trying to shake off the blade.
“Ah, ya lil rat-fucker! Gonna wring yer neck like a dishrag for that one.”
Before the boy could react, the massive pile of flesh was already in front of him, sending his steel toed boot plummeting into his face. He recoiled back, pressed against the wall. A low murmur arose from outside.
“Ya like stabbing, ah? How ‘bout we try that on ya?”
In his fingers, W’s knife was nothing but a tiny toothpick. With just one, swift move, he stuck it into Andy’s shoulder.
“Ah!- F-... Fuuh…”
“Yeah? Ain’t nice, mate.”
A low growling kept inching ever so closer from the outside. Andy grasped the knife and tried pulling at it, to no avail. He let his head slump forward, blood running down his face and clothes.
“Yer worth more alive, though. Rejoice, Lawie, ya ain’t dyin’.”
“... Of course I ain’t dying.”
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t have my fun ‘ere, y’know? Let’s start with yer fingers, mate. Won’t be needing those, hm?”
“...”
He couldn’t think straight, as everything started slowly growing more and more blurry. The back of his head pressed against the plywood wall once more, staring right into the face of death itself. The noise from outside just kept getting louder and louder…
“Ya there, Lawman? Yer already half step in yer grave, mate. ‘S a mercy killing.”
He let out an amused whistle and chuckled, slowly producing a long, crooked knife from his own holster, plastered onto his burly chest.
“Ya should be thanking me, Lawie. What was it? Exorcist?”
“Ricketts.”
“Right. Ricketts. Ya should be thanking me, Ricketts. Ain’t many mercs out there as gentle as I am, ya know?”
The noise drew closer, now invading their last, little parting conversation.
“As gentle as a sledgehammer, you are, “mate”...”
“Ha! Doesn’t get much better than that… The hell is up with that racket? Ya hear this?”
He turned towards the direction of the noise. Andy followed suit, barely able to keep his eyes open. His mind felt the feral sound scratching against its surface, seeping and corrupting any tidbits of peace the boy had left within himself.
“Just let me pass in peace, already… Let me see W again… And Droz… And Nuffer… Ricketts… Hell, even dad…”
“What? What’re ya babbling about? W-...”
With an ear piercing crash, the entire wall fell down, broken by the unyielding might of a beast of pure steel and fuel. Sixteen tons of cheap public transport slammed into their little plywood hut, tearing it apart almost entirely.
Everything had slowed down to a crawl. Andy felt a double dose of adrenaline being injected right into his brain as he witnessed the massive merc line armored bus leap onward, knocking the monstrous hunter off his feet and sending him flying across the room. He disappeared somewhere in a massive pile of rubble as the driver slammed on the brakes, hard.
With the brake blocks screeching in pain, the massive beast stopped right before the angel, face to face with a side door. Andy had to pinch himself to make sure he was still alive, not hallucinating before death.
The door swung open. His eyes were met by a rather distressed driver, tightly clutching onto the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry it took so long.”
By his side, a tiny swordsman stood, slouched over the passenger’s seat, holding a long blade pressed against the poor man’s throat. Andy couldn’t believe his eyes, so he gave them a rub or two - on his face, an incredibly wide grin of relief had already started stretching out his lips. Seven tilted his head and tapped his sandal against the bus’ metal floor.
“I found the merc line, like you said, Andy.”
“Y-... Yeah, you did.”
“You seem happy.”
“I’m fucking elated.”
Tch. A tiny, unpleasant sensation ran down his spine, as his halo dimmed and brightened. Sorry.
He quickly gathered himself, tearing the knife from his shoulder and hobbling over to pick up his gear - Nuffer and Vinny, lying scattered around the room. Seven kept silently watching through the bus’ massive front window, curiously glancing around the dark, stuffy area.
“Are you feeling well?”
“Are YOU? You could barely walk, last time we spoke.”
“I am. Always.”
He gave a small, dutiful nod. Andy couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of pure happiness and glee. This was it. They had a chance. He flicked the straw hat off his head and ruffled his messy hair, to which the boy responded by standing still like a salt pillar. The gesture left him with a light hint of confusion bouncing around his eyes, as Andy turned towards the driver.
“You! Bud, can you get us out of here?”
“U-Uh… Can your friend put the sword down…?”
In unison, they both answered at once.
“No.”
“... O-Okay. Um… Alright, what do you want me to do, then? I’m just a driver, I don’t…”
“We want you to drive! You’re a driver, so drive! Get us off this moving platform, c’mon!”
“But, you see, it’s moving and I can’t just…”
Something shifted, right in front of the bus. Its headlights shone brightly onto a moving pile of rubble, as a muscular arm slowly shot out from beneath. Andy tapped the driver on his shoulder.
“Drive into that trash pile.”
“W-What? But…”
“You already tore half the market down, I bet. Drive into that pile, NOW!”
“...”
With a small sigh, the driver pressed down the clutch and slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
The bus came to life once more, roaring wildly in a feral display of might. Just as the hunter had barely managed to free himself from the rubble, his face was lit up by the power of almost two and a half thousand lumens, followed closely by sixteen tons of steel ready to run him over. His eyes widened in shock, right before the beast swallowed him whole, chewing him thoroughly with its four wheels and spitting out behind, tearing through the rest of the plywood hut. Onto the fresh air they went, bringing down stalls and stands alike as they went. At the sight of such a beast set free, the market was soon overtaken by loud screams of terror and confusion. Cleaving through the vendors, throwing their life’s work aside, destroying every single little oasis of peace in this treacherous bazaar of meat and blood, the bus pushed on forward, rushing towards the very edge of the mobile-city platform.
“That’s right, keep going to the side! ‘Till we see the desert!”
Andy kept clutching onto the driver’s headrest, excitedly staring out the windshield and trying to outyell the roaring engine.
“But… What are you planning?! You can’t get off the platform!”
“YOU can’t! We can! Just keep driving, Mr Driver!”
A flick of light passed by the three, shattering a side window. A couple crossbow bolts followed suit. Good thing this beauty’s heavily armored.
Andy wailed in excitement, almost jumping on his spot, holding Seven’s shoulder with one hand, the other wrapped around the driver.
“To the edge! To the edge! C-... Why did you stop?”
The engine grew silent.
“Look, I can’t. I’m sorry, but this is… I can’t drive this thing OFF the platform!”
“... You can’t?”
“Of course! That’s… That’s suicide!”
“...”
Andy and Seven exchanged a glance.
“...”
Both nodded, knowingly.
A few moments later, they waved off to the bus driver, having kicked him off the line. Seven even raised his hands from underneath the poncho, sending him a thumbs up.
“Thank you for the ride, Mr Bus Driver.”
His tone remained as monotone as ever. Andy flashed him a bright, surprised smile, as he took a seat behind the steering wheel.
“Oh, you remembered? Gonna make a real gentleman out of you, someday!”
His fingers slid along the leather, shoes gently laid at the base of the pedals below. Driving can’t be THAT hard, right?
“Alright, giddy-up!”
His left foot lightly tapped the clutch, the right one punched the gas.
The bus jerked forward and stopped.
“... Right.”
Seven tilted his head in curiosity as Andy kept fiddling with the ignition, trying to set the engine aflame once more.
“Come on… Come on, I’ve seen these guys drive a thousand times over… Come on, don’t die on me like that…”
The tiny swordsman’s attention was drawn to the side windows, as a certain wave of loose mercenaries had started gathering at the bus’ sides, slamming their steel against the metal and glass.
“Andy?”
“I know! I know, I’m trying…”
Violent threats and obscenities flew their way, as more and more devils kept trying to crack the bus’ armor and get inside. Finally, Andy pressed the clutch down all the way and flipped the ignition.
The engine came to life once again.
“Ha… Got ya.”
Learning from his past mistakes, he slammed down on the clutch and added some gas. The bus tore through the gathered crowd like an icebreaker through an ice floe.
Left, right, every direction, Andy’s hands kept clutching onto the leather wheel, trying to maneuver through the marketplace to the best of his abilities. He’s never driven anything before, after all.
“Sh-... Oh, Seven, heads up-!”
The beast mauled down a stand filled with domesticated fowl, the metal cages crashing through the unprotected windshield, sending little pieces of glass flying. Andy covered his face and forcefully pressed down the gas pedal, sending the engine’s RPM skyrocketing. It coughed, spat out a few plumes of tar-black fumes and shot forward, tearing through a few barricades, running up a flight of stairs and breaking a teeny-tiny railing.
There, Andy felt complete and utter peace. His body, as light as a mere feather, floated through the air, carried gently with the warm breeze. To his side, Seven kept clutching onto some lump beneath his poncho, also lifted off the bus floor. How nice it felt. The angel smiled, feeling his halo and wings catching the smooth breeze. This was it. Freedom. Complete and unending. Not bound to anything or anyone, not even the laws of gravity itself. He was… He was with Seven. He was bound to Seven, can’t forget about that. As much as he’d love to deny…
Seven had really started to grow on him.
His idyllic state of mind had immediately evaporated as he turned back towards the windshield, seeing the golden sands approaching at an alarming pace. The smile turned to a terrified frown, as he curled himself up into a ball and braced for a hard landing.
THUD.
…
…
“... Seven…?”
Slowly, a tiny angel stood up all covered in sand and blood. Dried up blood. Not fresh, for once. Andy shook his head, getting the dust out of his eyes and hair. An engine whirring grew ever so dim, as he turned towards the squashed up wreck that was their merc line bus, the victim of their little joyride.
He must’ve fallen through the windshield, landing amidst the soft, warm sand. Not a single bone felt broken. They felt like they could break at any moment, and his body was all bruised and cut all over, but nothing was broken. That’s what counted.
“Seven?”
He called out again, trying to stand up. In the distance, a gigantic pile of rusty metal and steel on caterpillar tracks kept dragging itself through the desert, in the opposite direction. His heart jolted, as if struck by lightning.
They made it out.
“Seven? Seven!?”
He turned to the bus wreck, dropping Vinny to the side and setting his mind on one thing and one thing only.
“Seve-... Seven, you alright?”
There he was, sprawled out on the sand right in the middle of the shattered windshield. Arms, legs… They all seemed okay.
Slowly, the boy perked up, sitting straight and shaking his head like a dog throwing off excess droplets of water after a swim. Sand flew.
“I’m fine.”
He gave a nod. Andy let out a long sigh of relief and placed his hand upon the boy’s shoulder. He was so happy. So utterly filled with glee.
“Of course you’re fine! Of course you are, you… You little devil, you!”
Once again, he ruffled his hair, to which the tiny swordsman’s tail responded with an excited wag.
They actually made it.
…
Without any food, though. Those curious eyes bore into his, again.
“Seven, do you, uh… You dropped all our food, right…?”
“Yes.”
He gave a nod, as his tail kept drawing eights behind his back.
“...”
That’s a problem. A big problem. They made it, but for what? To die out here, in the desert? To starve…?
A tiny squawk came from within the wrecked bus. They both turned towards the sound.
“...?”
A few cages laid scattered amidst the shattered glass. A few creatures gazed at them with their dumb, empty, but curious eyes. Seven stared back, finding himself on the same airwaves as the domesticated fowl, lazily sprawled out behind bars.
The two boys exchanged a small glance.
Lady Luck had them covered.
…
Late at night, amidst the shower of stars far beyond anyone’s reach, two tattered souls sat around a tiny campfire near the very edge of the deserted wasteland, where the first signs of life and vegetation had started to show. With a few plump, juicy fowl filets laid out atop a makeshift grill over the fire, the two sat closely together, enjoying the flames’ warmth and the hastily cooked food on their plates.
Andy let out a yawn and gobbled down a half-burnt piece of chicken.
“... I honestly thought that’d be the end. Really, especially when you ditched!”
He chuckled, and Seven tilted his head in confusion.
“Ditched?”
“Yeah. You know, left. Abandoned.”
“Oh. But I did not abandon you.”
“I know! Hell, if you did, I’d ban you from attending my funeral. If they’d even decide to give me one, I dunno.”
“Funeral?”
“Mmmm. It’s like an occasion, held when someone dies, uh… Back home, there used to be these big parties with food and fizzy drinks and all… I think mom had something like that organized. I dunno.”
He gave a shrug.
“... It’s an event for the dead?”
A nod followed.
“Mhm. So they have a nice afterlife. After that, you can… You can visit their graves and all.”
“Visit graves…?”
“Yeah. Of your loved ones. You never had anyone to visit at a graveyard?”
“...”
The boy shook his head, lightly.
“... I think I want to visit someone, though.”
Andy perked up, curiosity painted over his face.
“You do? Who?”
“Someone. I can’t say.”
Huh. Keeping secrets, that’s a new one. Andy shrugged and took a large bite of his dry filet.
“That’s alright. I mean, I’ve got a few graves to visit, myself, too…”
“Where?”
“Where? Laterano. If they ever open the borders.”
“Borders. I think I need to go somewhere, too.”
Again, Andy turned to the boy, without much expectations.
“Somewhere inland? We could try trekking, you know.”
“No. Siracusa.”
Siracusa? The land of crime and rain…? Now, he was really curious.
“Why? You got some extended family there, or…?”
He shook his head. That was as much as he was going to spill.
“...”
“... If that’s what you gotta do. I’ll do my best to help you get there. I promise.”
“...”
Seven sat in silence, staring at the playful flames playing catch in front of him. His little mind was churning and turning, cogs working overtime. A certain phrase kept playing in his head, over and over again, ever since the two met. Two words, repeated constantly, burning a deep mark in his conscience.
“... Andy?”
“Yeah?”
Their eyes met, reflecting the flames’ playful banter. Andy felt a slight glimmer of warmth sprouting deep within him.
Seven spoke, his words a mere whisper amidst the night’s unbreakable silence. A whisper he’s been holding back for gods know how long.
“... Are you my guardian angel?”