In life, people are frequently reminded to be careful what they wish for. For each misguided wish they make in hopes that magic will grant that wish to turn their lives for the better, there is a negative consequence that they never could have foreseen. They wish for things to be less boring, for things to leave them alone, for everything to please change because the direction of their life is displeasing at the moment. The realisation only comes after the words have been spoken. Your wish can very much be turned against you.
Mox had heard the cliche before. So many times it had been repeated; by his parents, his teachers, random passersby who had heard a wish being professed. However, it had never really occurred to him that they'd be proven right. Idly, he pressed his palms against the glass of the shop window and looked at the item that his friend was pointing at excitedly, the musings over the cliche and how true it really was slowly drifting away from him as he tried to figure out just what he was looking at.
"Nero..."
"Mox, Mox come on. Please?" Nero pouted at him imploringly, an expression he still didn't seem to realise would have no effect on Mox's decision whatsoever. Still, with a sigh, Mox fished into the pocket of his worn army-issue camoflauge pants for their money stash. Nero's thin face immediately lit up in joy and he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "Yay Mox! I knew you weren't so hardhearted that you wouldn't let me have it."
"Oh I'll let you have it alright," Mox muttered under his breath, extracting a ten dollar bill from the mass of wrinkled paper. "This is all the money you get to spend this week. Are you sure you want to spend it on th- Nero!"
The other boy had snatched the bill from his hand and immediately escaped into the shop; rolling his eyes, Mox followed in his footsteps, glancing up at the bell above the door as he entered the building. It was brighter inside than out, as it was getting on in the evening and everything had started fading. All along the walls, bright colours leapt out at him, each attempting to capture his attention with a strange swirly pattern or something of the like. Bright bundles of objects arranged attractively in baskets on countertops, a glass case containing pastel treats... He'd apparently stepped off the street and into Hell's Technicolour Rainbow Store.
Or a candy shoppe. Of course Nero would find one.
"Nero." He wasn't at the counter, nor at the window through which they'd been staring only a moment ago. He'd wanted whatever it was that was in the window, so where had he disappeared to? It should be easy to spot the small, black-clothed man against the ridiculously bright colour of the sweets, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Nero. If you don't show yourself immediately, I'll leave you here."
An empty threat, but Nero never seemed to realise that, as Mox had uttered those very words before many times. The boy stuck his head out from one of the aisles, a very, very sad expression on his face. Visibly annoyed at his friend, he stuck his tongue out and made a rude noise in Mox's direction. Mox immediately started toward him; the woman who was keeping the counter looked very worried for some reason.
"Mox, that's not very nice," Nero muttered petulantly, shuffling backwards into the aisle as Mox got closer. The sad little pout on his face would have made anyone else feel sorry for upsetting him. "You know you can't leave me alone."
There was a bit of a whine in his voice; the woman behind the counter shifted to her left, to get a better view into the aisle. The look she was giving him made it clear that she thought he was going to hurt the smaller boy, or something equally heinous. Mox glanced over his shoulder at her, sighed, and looked back to Nero. This was just... embarrassing. What were they doing in here to begin with? Nero should've known that chocolate, and candy in general, was useless to them.
Silently, Mox pointed at the window, where the object Nero had desired was still nestled amongst fluffy bits of tissue paper used as decoration. They had other things to do. He couldn't stand around while Nero ran amok like... well like a kid in a candy store. Another cliche Mox had never considered the truth behind. Nero's bottom lip jutted out dangerously as he brushed past his friend and headed for whatever it had been, leaving him to muse over the verity of various other cliches before he turned and followed slowly.
"They're chocolate puppies!" he explained earnestly, picking one up and holding it out to show Mox. It was about the same size as Nero's hand, and probably solid chocolate all the way through, Mox thought, eying the thing disinterestedly. It looked more like a rat to him, but if Nero saw a puppy, then Nero saw a puppy, and most other people probably did as well. There probably wasn't much of a market for rat-shaped chocolates, after all. He didn't even bother to point out that the shape of the candy shouldn't matter, as it was all going to ostensibly be eaten anyway... the other man would just look rather scandalised and probably be unhappy for the rest of the night, an emotion Mox wasn't inclined to have to deal with.
"Right. Lovely. Please go buy the thing, if you're going to, so we can go." He looked pointedly at his friend. "We've got to get to Burnout by sundown."
Which totally was not going to happen now, as the sun was already sinking fast behind the horizon, bathing the city in a blanket of darkness. Winter was slowly coming, and with it was coming the ever-irksome shortening of days. Last year the accompanying cold had been a real issue for the pair, but this year Mox was determined that days would not end with them huddled up together to battle it. They would have proper places to stay; planning had ensured this. Burnout had its share of motels on its fringe; they were dirty, but warm.
Apparently lack of appreciation for the puppy shape was just as bad as lack of appreciation for shaped chocolates in general, because Nero frowned deeply, the very expression Mox had been attempting to avoid drawing out, and quietly headed for the counter. The damage was already done, it seemed, so Mox ran a hand through his longish dark hair and headed for the door. He could feel the shopgirl's eyes on his back, following him out. It was almost as if she believed he was going to suddenly turn and run back in to assault her or something, the way she was watching him so intently.
It took Nero another five minutes to buy the chocolate dog. He chatted animatedly with the cashier, smiling brightly and suggesting lord only knew what to her. In the end, he had somehow earned himself a discount, and he exited the shop with nine dollars and two chocolate dogs in his hands. Chocolate dogs that were meant to cost three dollars each. Mox shook his head as his friend bounced in his direction, silently making a note to never pass this area again. Nero would insist on going into that candy shoppe now. Every. Single. Time. He'd make friends with the staff there and get free candy and spend hours helping them move stock. A free and helpful source of labour.
"She gave me two. Want one?" Nero held out his spare chocolate dog as he bit the head off the other. Mox eyed the bit of candy in his friend's hand before turning away and starting back down the street in the direction they'd been heading. The sun was all but down now. They weren't in Burnout yet. He'd wanted to be there before dark, but Nero had... stopped them several times. "Mox? Mooooox come on, it's really good. Try it!"
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
Burn Out - Chapter 1, Part 2
"No thank you, Nero." He glanced back to make sure he was following; indeed he was. He was right behind Mox, his large brown eyes looking rather desperate. He really wanted Mox to eat the dog. He sighed. "We're late now, you realise. We've got to get to Burnout soon or we won't be able to see to find a place to sleep."
Regardless, he took the dog from the other's hand as they walked, just so he'd stop making that face. That... face. It didn't bother him particularly, but it made it appear to others like he'd done something horrible to Nero. Which, in Nero's opinion, he had, but to everyone else he hadn't. He didn't bother eating the thing, choosing instead to carry it. The foil crinkled in his hand as he shifted it around.
It took them nearly half an hour to reach Burnout, something Nero didn't notice, which was fine for Mox. He didn't particularly need his friend rubbing it in that the candy shoppe venture hadn't been the only thing to make them late. It was dark as anything when they'd arrived, which made finding a building that wasn't falling apart particularly difficult.
Burnout was a part of the same city they'd just spent the day walking through, but somehow a whole separate world. It had been ravaged by a violent fire some six years before, a fire that had ripped through the better part of ten square blocks and had killed its share of people in the process. The fire had been put down to a gas pipe explosion, facilitated by the high winds and several well-placed cars that had immediately spun down the street into buildings all down the way. The fact that it had started by destroying the only fire station in the area, coupled with the wide-spread area that had been engulfed in flames quickly following the initial explosion, had led to the other fire companies declaring it a total loss fire. They'd stayed on the perimeter, spraying the flames down as they reached it to prevent it spreading to the surrounding areas, but doing nothing to stop the burning core. The gas lines being shut off stopped it from crippling the entire city, but in the end, a rather large area had ended up being destroyed.
With the economy the way it had been then, most had been discouraged from rebuilding, and those who had had hopes for it had quickly given them up and moved away to a different area. Long after the fires had been extinguished, the skeletal reminders of it were left behind in the form of burnt out cinderblock buildings and the half-destroyed dwellings of families unfortunate enough to have been in the radius. The mayor had referred to it as 'the burned out area' in a speech soon after the incident, and the locals had latched onto the term for use in reference to it. Burnout soon became the center for many of the city's homeless to flock to, and a hotspot for runaway children and teenagers to hide away in. The police simply wouldn't venture into the area; it became a lawless zone, a place for those who wanted to disappear or who wanted to make other disappear to thrive in.
It was a place Mox and Nero had been to only once, and a place they had since never returned to.
"Mox..." Nero's voice had gone soft and small as they'd reached the edge of Burnout; the area was easy enough to recognise upon reaching it. A few buildings along the edge had mostly survived the flames, and these abandoned places had already mostly been claimed as homes for those who had no other place to go. There were no cars in front of them, no kept lawns in front. Mox eyed a building disinterestedly as the torn curtains stirred in the window. "Mox, I just remembered. I don't like it here."
Of course he didn't like it here.
"I know. I wouldn't either, Nero." Mox continued forward anyway, ears concentrated on Nero's footsteps behind him. The other man faltered and stopped once, but when Mox didn't pause to wait for him, the footsteps picked up in earnest. "We had to come back though. You know why. I didn't expect you would enjoy it here, but... you know it's unavoidable."
Their reason for being here was simple. It wasn't revenge, per say. They were simply looking for someone who had taken something from them. They weren't out to kill him, or anything like that. Right? Mox nodded his head to his own thoughts as they passed the dismal remains of a family home that hadn't been so lucky as its neighbour. The siding was melted all over, the interior of the house gutted and black. He found himself wondering if the family had survived. Had they come home to discover they didn't have a home anymore? Or had they been in the home when the disaster had struck?
He was thinking too much. Mox rubbed his eyes as he continued down the sidewalk, toward the commercial area that had once thrived. Many of the old buildings down that way had been completely destroyed. Only those that had been knocked down and rebuilt prior to Burnout had remained behind, and even those hadn't fought the flames well. Half-walls towered over the streets next to charred black ground from which no plants seemed able to grow yet, the bricks prone to coming loose over the years and falling toward the unsuspecting who happened to be walking below. Mox kept diligent for this, however much it was impossible for them to hurt him.
"Nero, we're almost there."
He tried not to think about the last time they had been here, for Nero's sake. If Nero managed to get close enough, and carelessly touched anywhere he had a patch of bare skin... He would see it all again. And while Mox couldn't feel that fear that he had felt back then, Nero definitely would feel it. He didn't want his friend to go through that again. It was bad enough the first time around, without him remembering exactly what had happened. His eyes searched down the dark street for any indication that they were near the building he was looking for.
These streets hadn't been lit at night for over six years. Mox would've done well to bring a flashlight with him. It was one of those silly little things he should have thought about before dragging Nero back to this place. The moon in the sky above was only at its half, leaving the area below severely lacking for light. Stars provided little in the way of this as well... Mox reached for Nero's arm automatically, feeling for the leather sleeve of his jacket.
"Nero, do you have a flashlight or something in your pack? I can't see where it is..." He glanced at his strangely silent friend; though his face was difficult to make out in the dark, it wasn't that hard to tell that his jaw was clenched tight under his rapidly paling skin. He was afraid, almost ridiculously so. Mox could feel the fear coming off him. The waves of it rubbed against his skin, making him twitch slightly as his stomach churned. "Don't... look like that. He's not going to be here tonight, I'm sure of it."
After all, what reason could that person have for hiding in the darkened remains so late at night, when victims would be few and far between? He had preyed on two high-schoolers, did he also prey on the older homeless population? The manner of his thievery left Mox inclined to say no to that. This man, this monster, most likely only went after those like Nero and himself. Young, energetic, full-of-life people. Those who had the most to lose.
"I've... got one," Nero finally replied, sliding the pack off his shoulder and pulling the drawstring to open it up. He seemed to be relaxing a bit; Mox took his hand off his sleeve and focused his eyes in the pack. The strange collections that Nero had started were all jammed in there, poised to overflow. A few coins clinked against the sidewalk as he shifted aside a balled-up teeshirt. "It's in here, I swear it is. I know I didn't throw it out, because I use it to read after you go to sleep sometimes..."
He set the pack down on the ground and squatted next to it, one hand feeling around on the sidewalk for the wayward coins as the other dug about through the contents of his bag. It obviously... wasn't a big flashlight, if he couldn't find it easily. Mox sighed and squatted next to him, giving Nero's arm a gentle nudge with his elbow as his hands dipped into the contents as well. He would find it faster than Nero would, most likely.
"You need to keep this organised. You'd have a lot more room in here if you folded your clothes, you know." The old army-issue bag was about three feet deep, and mostly stuffed with the mass of clothing that he had accumulated over the last two years. He hadn't grown at all since the incident, and the only thing he'd ever bothered to get rid of were his pajama pants. The battle over that had been rather huge on their usual battle scale, but in the end Mox had relented. Fighting with Nero simply wasn't worth the trouble. "And some of your shirts have huge holes in them, we should get you new ones. You should tell me when that stuff happens, instead of shoving them to the bottom of your pack."
"They do not!" Nero protested, his bottom lip jutting out as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Some have little holes in them, but they're still wearable!"
Mox pulled a white tee shirt from the pack just then and held it up; one of the sleeves was nearly separated from the rest of the shirt by a large hole that had probably originated in the armpit. There was also a rather large across the stomach of it, just below the logo of some old bowling alley Nero had never been to. The smaller man blushed furiously and almost opened his mouth to protest as Mox tossed the thing at him.
"That's a washing rag now. As is this one." He tossed another shirt, a light blue one which was stained rather badly down the front. "And this one." A red tee shirt landed on Nero's head; the side was ripped open, most likely from him climbing over a fence or something similar. "We'll find a shop and get you some more clothes tomorrow."
The flashlight was stuck in the poorly-sewn inside pocket, Mox discovered moments later. It was a small plastic thing, barely noticeable, but the small beam made it possible for him to at least see. He tucked the remainder of Nero's clothes back in the bag and handed it back silently. He would take it back later tonight, after they'd found a suitable building to sleep in, and fold all the clothing that was left after he tossed out anything that wasn't wearable by human standards. They were homeless, yes, but he wouldn't allow Nero to look the part.
The soft flickering of the flashlight over the buildings led them down the street, Nero keeping himself as close to Mox as he dared. It had been two years. Two years to the day, Mox realised as they walked down the empty street. Nero had been several steps ahead of him, as always. Mox's eyes had been locked on the back of that empty, shaggy head; the memories of that day were returning unbidden in the familiar surroundings.
"Nero, slow down." The same words, spoken in quite a different tone. Nero wasn't ahead of him this time, however, rather he was behind him, and thus confused by Mox's sudden, strange words... but he was in the memory now and wasn't thinking. Nero had been in front of him. And he'd turned around, that goofy grin that always crossed his face plastered on like a mask... and then it had happened.
Mox stopped abruptly on the cracked sidewalk and touched one hand to his throat, the flashlight beam shooting to illuminate the front of the building they were standing next to. The person had appeared from nowhere, bursting into existence during a moment of awkward relief. One second, Mox had been looking at his friend, whose mouth was poised to say something that was mostly likely very smartass-like, and the next... he was rolling across the floor of the building they'd been walking past, shattered glass flying around him as he spun helplessly into the crumbling opposite wall. Whatever had thrown him had hit him very hard in the throat, rendering him unable to breathe when he finally came to a stop face-down against the bare cement floor.
Then the real pain hit. The lungs so devoid of oxygen struggled to let out even the slightest indication that yes, he was hurt and the world should know it. The glass had shredded his left arm especially; one flimsy layer of cloth had not been enough to protect it from the sharp shards that had left deep gouges in his skin. Little slashes marked his face, hands, and chest, glass still embedded in them. A shard had managed to leave a rather loud wound across one side of his face, an inch-and-a half-long crevass that started just below his ear and ended close to his nose.
It took him a minute to finally draw some semblance of a breath. He moved automatically, rolling himself over onto his back, not caring if there were little pebbles of glass beneath him. His thin frame shook as a cough ripped through him, one hand rising to his throat anxiously. At that moment, Mox hadn't realised that it had been a person who had thrown him so easily, as if he were a child's doll rather than a fairly sturdy human. Not even when the man stepped through the broken window, boots crunching over broken glass, one hand clenched around Nero's arm, did it dawn on him. His blurred eyes fixed onto the man, not knowing.
"M-Mox?" Nero stuttered, voice riddled with horror.
"What happened?" Mox managed to wheeze, and in that moment, a hand touched his back and he jerked forward, out of the reverie he'd been trapped in.
His breath was coming in gasps even now, just remembering. The empty frame of the window mocked him, showing that this was the place they'd been, and the person who had been there was just as long gone as the glass pane it had held years before. Nero was standing a few steps away, looking rather shaky as his friend tried to regain his normal breathing patterns. Even though Mox couldn't feel the shock and pain of the memory... his body remembered. It knew the panic and horrors that it had held that day, and it would not forget them even if his mind didn't know how to feel them any longer.
"Are you alright?"
Mox took a breath and adjusted the pack on his shoulder. They were in this place again, after so long, because they needed to get back what was gone. He was closer now than he had been yesterday to recovery. Why wouldn't he be anything but okay?
"I'm fine, Nero. It just... I remembered a bit when I saw the building, is all." He couldn't say that it had shocked him, really. "It's fine."
All he had wanted for the day was to examine the building, but... well it was far too dark to have a proper inspection of it. The flashlight didn't provide nearly enough light, either. So, Mox turned the light to Nero, pointing it near his face. The man winced and covered his eyes with a hand immediately, a slow whine of protest creeping up his throat.
"Let's find a place for the night. We'll come back tomorrow."
They slept in a fall-down that night, on an air mattress inflated by Mox with a bicycle tire pump. Both items had been stored in his own pack, as well as the tarp that Nero had spent twenty minutes unfurling and setting up as a makeshift wall and ceiling. The mattress was pushed into the corner of the two lonely walls that still stood, cinderblock barriers stretching ten feet above the cracked concrete foundation of the home they once were a part of. It wasn't a particularly big mattress, but the pair had shared it more times than they remembered, through two summers and winters. Both men had learned quickly that fleece blankets were the lightest they could find that still provided warmth, and so each had two in their own packs. These were wrapped tightly around the two thin bodies as they attempted to find their own comfortable spots on the mattress. It didn't take long before they drifted off into sleep; their quiet breathing made no disturbance in the first dark night in Burnout.
Regardless, he took the dog from the other's hand as they walked, just so he'd stop making that face. That... face. It didn't bother him particularly, but it made it appear to others like he'd done something horrible to Nero. Which, in Nero's opinion, he had, but to everyone else he hadn't. He didn't bother eating the thing, choosing instead to carry it. The foil crinkled in his hand as he shifted it around.
It took them nearly half an hour to reach Burnout, something Nero didn't notice, which was fine for Mox. He didn't particularly need his friend rubbing it in that the candy shoppe venture hadn't been the only thing to make them late. It was dark as anything when they'd arrived, which made finding a building that wasn't falling apart particularly difficult.
Burnout was a part of the same city they'd just spent the day walking through, but somehow a whole separate world. It had been ravaged by a violent fire some six years before, a fire that had ripped through the better part of ten square blocks and had killed its share of people in the process. The fire had been put down to a gas pipe explosion, facilitated by the high winds and several well-placed cars that had immediately spun down the street into buildings all down the way. The fact that it had started by destroying the only fire station in the area, coupled with the wide-spread area that had been engulfed in flames quickly following the initial explosion, had led to the other fire companies declaring it a total loss fire. They'd stayed on the perimeter, spraying the flames down as they reached it to prevent it spreading to the surrounding areas, but doing nothing to stop the burning core. The gas lines being shut off stopped it from crippling the entire city, but in the end, a rather large area had ended up being destroyed.
With the economy the way it had been then, most had been discouraged from rebuilding, and those who had had hopes for it had quickly given them up and moved away to a different area. Long after the fires had been extinguished, the skeletal reminders of it were left behind in the form of burnt out cinderblock buildings and the half-destroyed dwellings of families unfortunate enough to have been in the radius. The mayor had referred to it as 'the burned out area' in a speech soon after the incident, and the locals had latched onto the term for use in reference to it. Burnout soon became the center for many of the city's homeless to flock to, and a hotspot for runaway children and teenagers to hide away in. The police simply wouldn't venture into the area; it became a lawless zone, a place for those who wanted to disappear or who wanted to make other disappear to thrive in.
It was a place Mox and Nero had been to only once, and a place they had since never returned to.
"Mox..." Nero's voice had gone soft and small as they'd reached the edge of Burnout; the area was easy enough to recognise upon reaching it. A few buildings along the edge had mostly survived the flames, and these abandoned places had already mostly been claimed as homes for those who had no other place to go. There were no cars in front of them, no kept lawns in front. Mox eyed a building disinterestedly as the torn curtains stirred in the window. "Mox, I just remembered. I don't like it here."
Of course he didn't like it here.
"I know. I wouldn't either, Nero." Mox continued forward anyway, ears concentrated on Nero's footsteps behind him. The other man faltered and stopped once, but when Mox didn't pause to wait for him, the footsteps picked up in earnest. "We had to come back though. You know why. I didn't expect you would enjoy it here, but... you know it's unavoidable."
Their reason for being here was simple. It wasn't revenge, per say. They were simply looking for someone who had taken something from them. They weren't out to kill him, or anything like that. Right? Mox nodded his head to his own thoughts as they passed the dismal remains of a family home that hadn't been so lucky as its neighbour. The siding was melted all over, the interior of the house gutted and black. He found himself wondering if the family had survived. Had they come home to discover they didn't have a home anymore? Or had they been in the home when the disaster had struck?
He was thinking too much. Mox rubbed his eyes as he continued down the sidewalk, toward the commercial area that had once thrived. Many of the old buildings down that way had been completely destroyed. Only those that had been knocked down and rebuilt prior to Burnout had remained behind, and even those hadn't fought the flames well. Half-walls towered over the streets next to charred black ground from which no plants seemed able to grow yet, the bricks prone to coming loose over the years and falling toward the unsuspecting who happened to be walking below. Mox kept diligent for this, however much it was impossible for them to hurt him.
"Nero, we're almost there."
He tried not to think about the last time they had been here, for Nero's sake. If Nero managed to get close enough, and carelessly touched anywhere he had a patch of bare skin... He would see it all again. And while Mox couldn't feel that fear that he had felt back then, Nero definitely would feel it. He didn't want his friend to go through that again. It was bad enough the first time around, without him remembering exactly what had happened. His eyes searched down the dark street for any indication that they were near the building he was looking for.
These streets hadn't been lit at night for over six years. Mox would've done well to bring a flashlight with him. It was one of those silly little things he should have thought about before dragging Nero back to this place. The moon in the sky above was only at its half, leaving the area below severely lacking for light. Stars provided little in the way of this as well... Mox reached for Nero's arm automatically, feeling for the leather sleeve of his jacket.
"Nero, do you have a flashlight or something in your pack? I can't see where it is..." He glanced at his strangely silent friend; though his face was difficult to make out in the dark, it wasn't that hard to tell that his jaw was clenched tight under his rapidly paling skin. He was afraid, almost ridiculously so. Mox could feel the fear coming off him. The waves of it rubbed against his skin, making him twitch slightly as his stomach churned. "Don't... look like that. He's not going to be here tonight, I'm sure of it."
After all, what reason could that person have for hiding in the darkened remains so late at night, when victims would be few and far between? He had preyed on two high-schoolers, did he also prey on the older homeless population? The manner of his thievery left Mox inclined to say no to that. This man, this monster, most likely only went after those like Nero and himself. Young, energetic, full-of-life people. Those who had the most to lose.
"I've... got one," Nero finally replied, sliding the pack off his shoulder and pulling the drawstring to open it up. He seemed to be relaxing a bit; Mox took his hand off his sleeve and focused his eyes in the pack. The strange collections that Nero had started were all jammed in there, poised to overflow. A few coins clinked against the sidewalk as he shifted aside a balled-up teeshirt. "It's in here, I swear it is. I know I didn't throw it out, because I use it to read after you go to sleep sometimes..."
He set the pack down on the ground and squatted next to it, one hand feeling around on the sidewalk for the wayward coins as the other dug about through the contents of his bag. It obviously... wasn't a big flashlight, if he couldn't find it easily. Mox sighed and squatted next to him, giving Nero's arm a gentle nudge with his elbow as his hands dipped into the contents as well. He would find it faster than Nero would, most likely.
"You need to keep this organised. You'd have a lot more room in here if you folded your clothes, you know." The old army-issue bag was about three feet deep, and mostly stuffed with the mass of clothing that he had accumulated over the last two years. He hadn't grown at all since the incident, and the only thing he'd ever bothered to get rid of were his pajama pants. The battle over that had been rather huge on their usual battle scale, but in the end Mox had relented. Fighting with Nero simply wasn't worth the trouble. "And some of your shirts have huge holes in them, we should get you new ones. You should tell me when that stuff happens, instead of shoving them to the bottom of your pack."
"They do not!" Nero protested, his bottom lip jutting out as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Some have little holes in them, but they're still wearable!"
Mox pulled a white tee shirt from the pack just then and held it up; one of the sleeves was nearly separated from the rest of the shirt by a large hole that had probably originated in the armpit. There was also a rather large across the stomach of it, just below the logo of some old bowling alley Nero had never been to. The smaller man blushed furiously and almost opened his mouth to protest as Mox tossed the thing at him.
"That's a washing rag now. As is this one." He tossed another shirt, a light blue one which was stained rather badly down the front. "And this one." A red tee shirt landed on Nero's head; the side was ripped open, most likely from him climbing over a fence or something similar. "We'll find a shop and get you some more clothes tomorrow."
The flashlight was stuck in the poorly-sewn inside pocket, Mox discovered moments later. It was a small plastic thing, barely noticeable, but the small beam made it possible for him to at least see. He tucked the remainder of Nero's clothes back in the bag and handed it back silently. He would take it back later tonight, after they'd found a suitable building to sleep in, and fold all the clothing that was left after he tossed out anything that wasn't wearable by human standards. They were homeless, yes, but he wouldn't allow Nero to look the part.
The soft flickering of the flashlight over the buildings led them down the street, Nero keeping himself as close to Mox as he dared. It had been two years. Two years to the day, Mox realised as they walked down the empty street. Nero had been several steps ahead of him, as always. Mox's eyes had been locked on the back of that empty, shaggy head; the memories of that day were returning unbidden in the familiar surroundings.
"Nero, slow down." The same words, spoken in quite a different tone. Nero wasn't ahead of him this time, however, rather he was behind him, and thus confused by Mox's sudden, strange words... but he was in the memory now and wasn't thinking. Nero had been in front of him. And he'd turned around, that goofy grin that always crossed his face plastered on like a mask... and then it had happened.
Mox stopped abruptly on the cracked sidewalk and touched one hand to his throat, the flashlight beam shooting to illuminate the front of the building they were standing next to. The person had appeared from nowhere, bursting into existence during a moment of awkward relief. One second, Mox had been looking at his friend, whose mouth was poised to say something that was mostly likely very smartass-like, and the next... he was rolling across the floor of the building they'd been walking past, shattered glass flying around him as he spun helplessly into the crumbling opposite wall. Whatever had thrown him had hit him very hard in the throat, rendering him unable to breathe when he finally came to a stop face-down against the bare cement floor.
Then the real pain hit. The lungs so devoid of oxygen struggled to let out even the slightest indication that yes, he was hurt and the world should know it. The glass had shredded his left arm especially; one flimsy layer of cloth had not been enough to protect it from the sharp shards that had left deep gouges in his skin. Little slashes marked his face, hands, and chest, glass still embedded in them. A shard had managed to leave a rather loud wound across one side of his face, an inch-and-a half-long crevass that started just below his ear and ended close to his nose.
It took him a minute to finally draw some semblance of a breath. He moved automatically, rolling himself over onto his back, not caring if there were little pebbles of glass beneath him. His thin frame shook as a cough ripped through him, one hand rising to his throat anxiously. At that moment, Mox hadn't realised that it had been a person who had thrown him so easily, as if he were a child's doll rather than a fairly sturdy human. Not even when the man stepped through the broken window, boots crunching over broken glass, one hand clenched around Nero's arm, did it dawn on him. His blurred eyes fixed onto the man, not knowing.
"M-Mox?" Nero stuttered, voice riddled with horror.
"What happened?" Mox managed to wheeze, and in that moment, a hand touched his back and he jerked forward, out of the reverie he'd been trapped in.
His breath was coming in gasps even now, just remembering. The empty frame of the window mocked him, showing that this was the place they'd been, and the person who had been there was just as long gone as the glass pane it had held years before. Nero was standing a few steps away, looking rather shaky as his friend tried to regain his normal breathing patterns. Even though Mox couldn't feel the shock and pain of the memory... his body remembered. It knew the panic and horrors that it had held that day, and it would not forget them even if his mind didn't know how to feel them any longer.
"Are you alright?"
Mox took a breath and adjusted the pack on his shoulder. They were in this place again, after so long, because they needed to get back what was gone. He was closer now than he had been yesterday to recovery. Why wouldn't he be anything but okay?
"I'm fine, Nero. It just... I remembered a bit when I saw the building, is all." He couldn't say that it had shocked him, really. "It's fine."
All he had wanted for the day was to examine the building, but... well it was far too dark to have a proper inspection of it. The flashlight didn't provide nearly enough light, either. So, Mox turned the light to Nero, pointing it near his face. The man winced and covered his eyes with a hand immediately, a slow whine of protest creeping up his throat.
"Let's find a place for the night. We'll come back tomorrow."
They slept in a fall-down that night, on an air mattress inflated by Mox with a bicycle tire pump. Both items had been stored in his own pack, as well as the tarp that Nero had spent twenty minutes unfurling and setting up as a makeshift wall and ceiling. The mattress was pushed into the corner of the two lonely walls that still stood, cinderblock barriers stretching ten feet above the cracked concrete foundation of the home they once were a part of. It wasn't a particularly big mattress, but the pair had shared it more times than they remembered, through two summers and winters. Both men had learned quickly that fleece blankets were the lightest they could find that still provided warmth, and so each had two in their own packs. These were wrapped tightly around the two thin bodies as they attempted to find their own comfortable spots on the mattress. It didn't take long before they drifted off into sleep; their quiet breathing made no disturbance in the first dark night in Burnout.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Chapter ?
"You're an odd person, Mox," the man taunted, his feet carrying him in a close circle around the stationary figure. The muscles in Mox's jaw tensed, his teeth pressing together in his mouth until it was almost painful; the emotions from those in the room were so palpable that he'd begun picking them up, stealing them without meaning to. His fingertips twitched, as if he longed to lunge at the annoyance and strangle the life out of him. "You know that stealing emotions from someone means that you get to feel... but you won't do it, because you know the dangers of taking too much. Did you know that if you take all their emotions from them, you get to keep them for a short while? Did you, Mox?"
He could see Nero standing in the doorway, visibly confused. Layney and Jude were stuck standing just behind him, barely visible from where Mox stood. Snitch, standing next to Nero, her thin mouth set in an angry scowl. The man passed into Mox's line of sight once more and paused, bending slightly to put himself where Snitch's face had just been. A grin crept slowly across his mouth, and Mox flinched ever so slightly at the grotesquely maniacal expression. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to destroy him, to kill this monstrous creature that masqueraded as a man, and get away from this place.
"You did know that, didn't you. But you wouldn't do it, because then you'd be a murderous beast or something like that." The man threw his head back and let out a barking laugh. "So chivalrous, to sacrifice like that. How wonderfully noble of you." He reached out a hand and hovered it just over the smaller boy's cheek for a moment before touching his skin, a caress almost gentle enough to be that of a loved one. "Do you know why you're here, Mox?"
"Don't touch him!"
Someone near the door was shouting; common sense would tell him that the voice belonged to Nero, and that Nero was the only one capable of seeing what was happening that would care and could scream, but Mox had lost all thought and sense the second the man had touched him. Through those fingertips, warmth was running into him, digging into his skin with such a pointed urgency that it was clear the man was forcing it into him. Planting his own emotions into Mox's head, to make him turn against Nero and Snitch, Jude and Layney, those who had stood allied with him up until this very moment. A whimper crept up his throat; he couldn't pull away from that flood.
"S-stop," he whispered, swaying on the spot. The man's hand stayed fast against his cheek, his predator's eyes gleaming excitedly. "Let go."
"Do you understand now, Mox? That you're not here because you want to be? You're here because Nero wants you to be." He pointed toward the door with his free hand, where Nero stood frozen, fists clenched by his sides. The order to remain there still stood, it seemed, as he couldn't force himself forward a single step. "You're here because he wants you to be here. Nothing you've done since I changed you has been by your own will, do you see that? Everything has been influenced by his emotions."
Nero was screaming. The sound was so strange to Mox's ears that he wasn't sure what it was at first, so full of anger and rage that it sounded almost feral. Still, his body seemed to be set against obeying his own orders. His friend's gaze flickered from the man's face, so full of twisted pleasure over the pain he was causing, to Nero's. The emotions in his head were forming like a tsunami; happiness, sadness, fear, pleasure, hatred, love... all were flashing past and mixing together and presenting themselves as one, leaving Mox utterly unable to separate them.
"You don't know anything about Mox at all," he cried, pushing Snitch's hand off his arm as she tried to grab him. "You don't know how he's lived his life, what his personality is... you don't know who he is. Everything that you're saying is just to make him think that I don't care about him, isn't it? Isn't it?! If I didn't care about him, if I were using him like you're claiming, then why would I have offered you that deal?"
The first hard flicker of anger flashed in the man's eyes, for only a second before he managed to cover it up. Still, Mox could feel it, pulsating through the fingertips that were keeping him a constant prisoner. It had been two years since he'd had his own emotions robbed from him, and since then he hadn't felt anything like this. Any other time he stole, his body wanted it, craved it so much that to wait a moment longer would result in him losing control and killing someone. This overflow was unlike anything else he'd felt. It overwhelmed him, and left his body shaking.
"Stay here, Mox."
The fingers were removed far too easily from his face. A moment ago, Mox could have sworn that they'd become a part of him, inseparable from his own skin, because release from them didn't seem like an option. A spasm shuddered up his thin body, and he dropped to his knees, his left arm the only thing keeping him from falling face-first against the concrete. Even now, after being let go, the feelings that had been forced upon him were a tempest. He couldn't have moved from that spot, even if the order hadn't been issued. Shuddering breaths wracked him as he tried to reign in control, but it was all too much for his broken self to handle.
The man approached Nero slowly, taking his time and measuring his steps. He stopped a few feet away from the small group, their faces all decorated with defiance, and tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared. He had faced them all before, of course, but never had he seen them all standing together, those that he had stolen from and destroyed. The only one missing was the single man he'd left curled on the floor.
"I've come to realise a few things about you over the past week or so, Nero Watase." He took another step closer, his hand waving through the air lazily as if he were conducting an orchestra. "You're extremely outspoken. That in itself is a rather irksome trait. However, you're also rather stupid." His hand ceased its meandering movements and he took another step forward. "Those two traits work horribly together. Makes you unbearable to be around. I've also realised... that you're superfluous."
"Jude. Jude," Snitch whispered, reaching for the boy. He twitched away from her fingertips and shook his head. "Jude please. I need you."
The whispers seemed to bother him even more, as he quickly closed the space between himself and the group, face markedly blank. A mask of composure. Nero found himself leaning back slightly, pulling away from the hand that was now reaching toward him. His feet were stuck where they were, unable to step back as the influence of the command still held over him.
"Superfluous?"
The man smiled and nodded, his hand wrapping gently around Nero's throat; a soft grunt issued from the boy's mouth as the his body automatically started drawing in whatever the guy would give. He didn't want this man's memories, though. Mox's frequently repeated words echoed in his mind: one should not take memories or emotions from trash, because that would just make them trash as well. They were better than that, as twisted as they were.
"You're useless to me, yes. Anything that you could obtain from a person could easily be obtained by Snitch as well, and she's much more pleasant to be around. Or so I believe, from what I've been told. She can do everything you can, and she can do it better. Thus... superfluous. And those whose existence is useless to me... don't get to live." His hand tightened around Nero's throat, adding pressure to sensitive spots. The palm of the hand was pressing down on his adam's apple. "So... Di-"
His voice stopped awkwardly, the last syllable of the word trapped in his throat; slightly surprised, he looked past Nero, to where Layney was standing. The girl's small hand had snuck over Nero's shoulder and wrapped around his wrist, fingers clenching tightly down. The expression of surprise slowly reformed itself into a derisive smile, and he raised his other hand in mock defeat. With that girl touching him, he would be unable to use his own voice. It belonged to her at the moment.
Nero had gone positively white, as had Snitch next to him. Her left arm was entwined around his in a futile attempt to move him, her right arm stretched behind her and reaching for Jude's hand. Jude was shaking his head fervently, adamant that he would not touch her. Snitch's hand searched vainly for any connection with him that could be found; she needed his eyes. She couldn't use Nero's right now, after all.
He could see Nero standing in the doorway, visibly confused. Layney and Jude were stuck standing just behind him, barely visible from where Mox stood. Snitch, standing next to Nero, her thin mouth set in an angry scowl. The man passed into Mox's line of sight once more and paused, bending slightly to put himself where Snitch's face had just been. A grin crept slowly across his mouth, and Mox flinched ever so slightly at the grotesquely maniacal expression. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to destroy him, to kill this monstrous creature that masqueraded as a man, and get away from this place.
"You did know that, didn't you. But you wouldn't do it, because then you'd be a murderous beast or something like that." The man threw his head back and let out a barking laugh. "So chivalrous, to sacrifice like that. How wonderfully noble of you." He reached out a hand and hovered it just over the smaller boy's cheek for a moment before touching his skin, a caress almost gentle enough to be that of a loved one. "Do you know why you're here, Mox?"
"Don't touch him!"
Someone near the door was shouting; common sense would tell him that the voice belonged to Nero, and that Nero was the only one capable of seeing what was happening that would care and could scream, but Mox had lost all thought and sense the second the man had touched him. Through those fingertips, warmth was running into him, digging into his skin with such a pointed urgency that it was clear the man was forcing it into him. Planting his own emotions into Mox's head, to make him turn against Nero and Snitch, Jude and Layney, those who had stood allied with him up until this very moment. A whimper crept up his throat; he couldn't pull away from that flood.
"S-stop," he whispered, swaying on the spot. The man's hand stayed fast against his cheek, his predator's eyes gleaming excitedly. "Let go."
"Do you understand now, Mox? That you're not here because you want to be? You're here because Nero wants you to be." He pointed toward the door with his free hand, where Nero stood frozen, fists clenched by his sides. The order to remain there still stood, it seemed, as he couldn't force himself forward a single step. "You're here because he wants you to be here. Nothing you've done since I changed you has been by your own will, do you see that? Everything has been influenced by his emotions."
Nero was screaming. The sound was so strange to Mox's ears that he wasn't sure what it was at first, so full of anger and rage that it sounded almost feral. Still, his body seemed to be set against obeying his own orders. His friend's gaze flickered from the man's face, so full of twisted pleasure over the pain he was causing, to Nero's. The emotions in his head were forming like a tsunami; happiness, sadness, fear, pleasure, hatred, love... all were flashing past and mixing together and presenting themselves as one, leaving Mox utterly unable to separate them.
"You don't know anything about Mox at all," he cried, pushing Snitch's hand off his arm as she tried to grab him. "You don't know how he's lived his life, what his personality is... you don't know who he is. Everything that you're saying is just to make him think that I don't care about him, isn't it? Isn't it?! If I didn't care about him, if I were using him like you're claiming, then why would I have offered you that deal?"
The first hard flicker of anger flashed in the man's eyes, for only a second before he managed to cover it up. Still, Mox could feel it, pulsating through the fingertips that were keeping him a constant prisoner. It had been two years since he'd had his own emotions robbed from him, and since then he hadn't felt anything like this. Any other time he stole, his body wanted it, craved it so much that to wait a moment longer would result in him losing control and killing someone. This overflow was unlike anything else he'd felt. It overwhelmed him, and left his body shaking.
"Stay here, Mox."
The fingers were removed far too easily from his face. A moment ago, Mox could have sworn that they'd become a part of him, inseparable from his own skin, because release from them didn't seem like an option. A spasm shuddered up his thin body, and he dropped to his knees, his left arm the only thing keeping him from falling face-first against the concrete. Even now, after being let go, the feelings that had been forced upon him were a tempest. He couldn't have moved from that spot, even if the order hadn't been issued. Shuddering breaths wracked him as he tried to reign in control, but it was all too much for his broken self to handle.
The man approached Nero slowly, taking his time and measuring his steps. He stopped a few feet away from the small group, their faces all decorated with defiance, and tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared. He had faced them all before, of course, but never had he seen them all standing together, those that he had stolen from and destroyed. The only one missing was the single man he'd left curled on the floor.
"I've come to realise a few things about you over the past week or so, Nero Watase." He took another step closer, his hand waving through the air lazily as if he were conducting an orchestra. "You're extremely outspoken. That in itself is a rather irksome trait. However, you're also rather stupid." His hand ceased its meandering movements and he took another step forward. "Those two traits work horribly together. Makes you unbearable to be around. I've also realised... that you're superfluous."
"Jude. Jude," Snitch whispered, reaching for the boy. He twitched away from her fingertips and shook his head. "Jude please. I need you."
The whispers seemed to bother him even more, as he quickly closed the space between himself and the group, face markedly blank. A mask of composure. Nero found himself leaning back slightly, pulling away from the hand that was now reaching toward him. His feet were stuck where they were, unable to step back as the influence of the command still held over him.
"Superfluous?"
The man smiled and nodded, his hand wrapping gently around Nero's throat; a soft grunt issued from the boy's mouth as the his body automatically started drawing in whatever the guy would give. He didn't want this man's memories, though. Mox's frequently repeated words echoed in his mind: one should not take memories or emotions from trash, because that would just make them trash as well. They were better than that, as twisted as they were.
"You're useless to me, yes. Anything that you could obtain from a person could easily be obtained by Snitch as well, and she's much more pleasant to be around. Or so I believe, from what I've been told. She can do everything you can, and she can do it better. Thus... superfluous. And those whose existence is useless to me... don't get to live." His hand tightened around Nero's throat, adding pressure to sensitive spots. The palm of the hand was pressing down on his adam's apple. "So... Di-"
His voice stopped awkwardly, the last syllable of the word trapped in his throat; slightly surprised, he looked past Nero, to where Layney was standing. The girl's small hand had snuck over Nero's shoulder and wrapped around his wrist, fingers clenching tightly down. The expression of surprise slowly reformed itself into a derisive smile, and he raised his other hand in mock defeat. With that girl touching him, he would be unable to use his own voice. It belonged to her at the moment.
Nero had gone positively white, as had Snitch next to him. Her left arm was entwined around his in a futile attempt to move him, her right arm stretched behind her and reaching for Jude's hand. Jude was shaking his head fervently, adamant that he would not touch her. Snitch's hand searched vainly for any connection with him that could be found; she needed his eyes. She couldn't use Nero's right now, after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
