[Event 2] Brotherhood [Arthur, Vash, Mihai]

[Deleted]

659

Tags:Arthur W. Kirkland, Vash Zwingli, Mihai C. Eliade

He had finally gone insane.

That had to be the only explanation. Here he was, who knew how far away from Weeds of Tomorrow, alone and cold and terrified. He didn't even know the geography of the city properly, and he was horribly lost. Peter wasn't wearing his coat, either, having discarded it in fear that people would notice the small crest on the corner and its status as part of the uniform. His only not-blatantly-a-mutant top was a short sleeved grey top, one that was intended for fights. He had taken it from his roommate, who had recently started some training.

He was such a horrible person.

He kneaded the rim of his hat in his hands and shivered. Peter was crying, but he had to stop- he had to stop! It had been his decision, albeit an impulsive, spur of the moment thing. There had been something or other, malfunctioning Underground, something or other that had come over the guards' radios. Then suddenly, there were barely any guards at all. Peter had noticed. Recently, he'd realized that he was horribly, horribly lonely. Maybe that's why he'd done it. He felt strangely abandoned and alone, despite being surrounded by people nearly constantly. So he had decided, spur of the moment, stolen his roommate's shirt, and ditched everything except for his hat, stuffing those few items under his mattress. It was a little obvious, but it ought to stop them from recognizing what was happening immediately.

Peter might not know Archadian geography well, but if anything, he knew Weeds like the back of his hand. He had been there since he was three, after all. It hadn't taken much for him to figure out where the now spread-thin guards weren't, and when they wouldn't be. He'd essentially walked out the gates after that. He ignored the fact that the cameras had probably caught him. Hopefully people would be distracted enough that they wouldn't notice?

Looking at the buildings around him and the trees nearby, though, was when he realized that his spur of the moment to find his brother and Alfred and see a beach with them was full of holes, left him wandering alone, and generally was stupid in general. What was he doing? Part of him- maybe most of him- wanted to go home. He was tired and hungry. But he couldn't figure out which direction he should go, so he sniffled and just keep going. He had to find someone eventually, right? Someone who'd help him, right?

Except, well, when he saw someone even remotely guard-like, he found himself out of sight, pretending to draw in the dirt.

"Kid?"

Peter jumped.

"Go home, kid. Didn't your parents tell you? There's been an emergency. It's dangerous right now." Peter shook his head, thought, and then nodded.

"U- um, yes sir. I will," said Peter. The man frowned.

"Can you get there on your own? I can escort you," said the guard.

Peter frowned. That would be bad. He couldn't have that happen. So he put on his most innocent face and said "But shouldn't you be out fighting bad guys? I hear that they're really bad! They sure make the reward look like that, at least?" The guard visibly struggled with a response, though his chest did puff up just a little. He finally smiled and ruffled Peter's hair.

"I guess I should," he said, and Peter had to stop himself from sighing in relief. "Go straight home, okay?"

"I will," said Peter, and he ran off, pretending he wasn't just getting himself more and more lost. His mouth felt dirty. He felt dirty. He was a thief and a liar and a traitor, and he was horrible.

He started to cry once more, as soon as he knew he was alone, near the edge of the woods. Would nothing go right?

Notes: Well, this will end well.

made by MISSO on IoF

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

I WILL HOLD ON HOPE AND I WON'T LET YOU CHOKE ON THE NOOSE AROUND YOUR NECK

The adrenaline was pulsing so deliciously through his body—mixed with the fear and the pain and the exhilaration of something happening outside the confines of monotony that encompassed Underground living. Like any other night, Arthur was in his cell, attempting to preserve warmth, so sleep hadn’t found him that easily. It was then, in the deafening silence that he started to hear the water. At first he paid it little heed, focusing instead on keeping his mind carefully disassociated from the reality that still threatened to swallow him until there was nothing left. Of course, it had yet to accomplish that and Arthur knew that there would be only a shell of a person left if he ever allowed that to happen. His attention was brought to reality much quicker when he realised how the water began to rise despite the fact that there were drains in the cement floor. Life stirred in those sullen green eyes and he flinched back onto the edge of his bed like a frightened animal, his eyes wide and confused as they trailed along the rising water. He noticed how his door seemed ajar and his heart began to pound, so thick and wonderfully alive with the strange sight. In that moment, the fight, flight, and freeze reflex in the primal part of his brain concerned only with survival began to shift somewhere between fight and flight. Arthur stood, soaking the lower half of his trousers as he pried his cell door open. Glancing up and down the corridor, mutants who’d just discovered their unexpected freedom were escaping their cells, the severely understaffed guards for the night were nowhere to be seen, probably called to some other crisis connected to whatever had caused this mess. Either way, Arthur didn’t really care where they were. The fact of the matter was, they were gone and he was no longer trapped like the animal they believed him to be. And like any animal, he would run. He didn’t look back at his forlorn cell, he didn’t look back at the other mutants escaping their confines, he didn’t look back when one of the braver guards attempted to stop the escape, his weapon drawn. As Arthur passed him, invisible, dead fingers grasped the man’s weapon and it was thrown hard across the corridor. The rest was a blur, Arthur’s mind now in complete survival mode as he made his way past he arena, past the blissfully empty administration and out in the open—the fresh, cold, empty, dark, free air. The stars—the stars were bright and lovely, but the beauty was lost in that moment. He could only feel the pressure of his feet against the ground as he ran—ran—ran. The rhythm was intoxicating and the fact that he was running anywhere almost made him want to cry from the relief of it. He hadn’t felt this in a long, long time. The fact that no one was touching him, no one was pawing at him as if he were theirs, forcing him to do anything, and the fact that he was running and free for that brief and blissful moment felt powerful. He ran, not seeing anyone or anything for a long while, at least until he reached the edge of the city. He saw the buildings and he recognised some of them during that small stretch of time when Mihai showed him part of the city. The flash of memory brought such a strong sense of longing and warmth, that it was just enough to bring him back to reality, to force his mind to start rationalising just what the hell he was going to do next. Arthur found himself in an alleyway and just up ahead there was a guard who seemed to be patrolling the area. He caught himself, his body jerked out of that flight mode as he sank into the shadows of the building, his heart pounding so viciously against his chest that it felt like it might give him away with the sheer energy that he was giving off. He could see the flickers of shadows in the corners of his eyes. The spirits could certainly feel the energy and they were more restless than usual. It would be so easy… so easy to kill this man in front of him. It wouldn’t take much… God knows, the dead surrounding him were more than willing. Arthur’s palms began to sweat and he could feel the intensity of the indecision, weighing the price of his freedom with the price of this man’s life… and he just couldn’t. Dammit. Coward. Idiot. Rubbish mutant. His thoughts were interrupted when the man was distracted by someone else further down the street. Arthur was inching forward, prepared to slip away from the scene before the guard could investigate further until he caught sight of the ever familiar head of blond hair belonging to the boy that the guard was speaking to. His stomach dropped. This time, the decision to take out this man was weighed with Peter’s freedom attached to it, which made the choice just a touch easier, but he felt filthy considering the prospect. He felt the weight for the consideration—a filthy horrible decision—no better than the humans who tormented them and took their lives without a moment of conflicted indecision. Still, in his mind, it was Peter and him or the guard. He knew what his choice would be. Just as he was about to make his move, the guard ruffled Peter’s hair and left as quickly as he had appeared. Peter took off. Arthur waited until the silence was once more settling over the area before he started following Peter, who seemed to be running without any real destination in mind. After a few minutes, it became evident that he was heading for the edge of the woods. Arthur took a different route, knowing the city just enough to intercept him at the tree line. The end result was nearly running into the boy, a near collision against him from the opposite direction. Arthur nearly stumbled over Peter and into the dirt. Breathless and his heart still beating like a small wild creature trying to escape, he attempted to tightly clutched at Peter and bring him close, trying to avoid the possibility of flailing limbs or being attacked. ”Peter! …Peter, it’s me,” his words were loud enough to be heard, but still hushed to avoid drawing attention. And it was in that moment, with his grasp upon Peter that his mind began to slow, he was still in survival mode, but now he had to start rationalising, he needed to make important decisions about where their next destination would be and how they could possibly preserve this taste of freedom a little longer if not permanently.

LAIKA OF GS!