Five months or so following forty-one, Robin was returned to civilization, and currently was, once again, introducing himself to the new world. The road he used to live on- or, he supposed, lived on still was now unfamiliar. For six months exactly he had accepted that his life was now chains, blood, and then temporary forgiveness- and where he was after Discipline, this world, his old life, it had been renewed for him.

Certain things he recognized, like the markets, sand, and sun. Those were all obvious things, large parts of his life beforehand- the real things that excited him were the little things that triggered a string of memories connected with them. He noticed the little wired, almost completely robotic toys spread among almost every market stand’s back shelf, and he noticed too the tattered magazines from usually at least eight years prior- those were occasional.

He picked up the first issue he saw and skimmed the pages until something colourful caught his eye, and when that thing came, he quietly ripped the image out of the magazine painfully slow. He then shoved it in his “Farewell” supply bag he got from the Discipline surveyors for being an especially good boy. He grabbed the toy elephant with a key for a trunk and nails for eyes from the neighbouring stand, shoving that into his bag also, and soon did it again. He did that a total ten times, and not a single market-tender, not even the ones with rifles at the ready, batted an eye. That sort of thing wasn’t miraculous for Robin, but still lucky; he was skilled with his fingers, at least more than your average passerby, but an amateur thief. God knows how many times his peers had made off with four litres of water least- while he would be held at gunpoint for attempting a sock.

Robin continued his morning stroll down the street, content with the now heavy weight of his bag, and discontent with the fact that he just couldn’t find his home. He checked the address slip the surveyors had given him as well as the street many times; two and two connected together every time he compared them.

He checked the house numbers also, and he followed the ones leading to his own: forty-two. He arrived at that house, and a woman had answered the door, friendly at first, but shooed him with a, “F off,” after he claimed she was on his property.

He sat on house forty-two’s doorsteps, baffled, angry, and above all lonely. He missed his home, and he missed his family, both dearly. He had hung for six months, which added up to one hundred and seventy-one hours, all spent for them, and after that time was done, they weren’t even there. The farthest thing from family was there instead, and seeing that, it brought a sharp and heavy pain that rooted itself in his chest, slowly blossoming. It begged the thought: What if he would never find them again? The big, big, far too big wasteland was always changing in Piedro with their current leader; he always promised some sort of drastic adjustment as long as it meant stronger community and or civilization-or whatever else they lacked. It would have been likely for them to have been moved over those six months, possibly tens of miles from where he was now.

Robin stood himself up and forced himself to search around, asking any familiar faces if they happened to even just catch a glance of them and if so, where and when did they. The answer was no each time, except for an occasional few, but it had been so long ago since they had that they couldn’t remember the where. Nevertheless, it was that or nothing, so Robin took that with many thanks.

Two hours after when he had first started, he had worn himself out wandering the market streets all day, and the sudden kick of fatigue brought realization that no home meant no place to sleep in security. In Piedro, sleeping exposed, without any sort of protection was an open invitation to be branded. If he slept, left himself up for the grabs of whoever was thriving in those streets at dark, he had no doubts that he’d wake up all pretty, shiny and brand new with an even prettier, newer, and shinier dog-tag tattooed wherever the vender thought the customers (or sometimes themself) would enjoy the most.

The safe thing to do was to stay awake for the remainder of the night, that way he could fight off nasty venders the best he could with the multi-tool the surveyors granted him. It was ironic, he thought, how he was using the tool to harm those threatening him rather than opening the can goods. Those who punished violence by stringing up men until they learned what was ethical in their view were almost prompting him now to shed blood.

That arose a conflict within himself: whether or not he could when the time came. He flicked the knife out of the tool and twirled it until the moon’s light reflected, contemplating. He decided that if necessary, he would, but he would get them in the rib. He was squeamish, and then he felt that the side of a chest wouldn’t bleed as much or expose any type of meat, hopefully just bone. That he knew how to deal with.

Robin settled himself near house forty-two, that way if he were to be attacked he could run in and explain his situation to that same woman. Surely she would understand being a resident and all, and even if she didn’t, he still had the multi-tool. He wrapped himself tightly in two blankets, the multi-tool and small snacks snuggly tucked in within them, and waited for the vendors. None of them came, and realizing that, Robin supposed he had simply gotten himself lucky again. He saw one or two men lurking about, but it seemed they were more interested in busting locks securing market goods than him. Seemed. Robin thought it was peculiar how they had supposedly given up on the locks, now just standing there and nothing more.

The men had been standing there for ten minutes with their eyes locked now on him only, and that was Robin’s cue to grab his supplies and run- or just speed walk as the other option would likely get him killed.

Robin walked, one step at a time, each feeling as though it was one of life or death. His fear ignited and blade now out as he saw them on his tail, which made him walk a little faster and as they got closer, full on sprint. He hoped that much could save him.

It wasn’t enough. His pace was brought to an abrupt stop when the arms of two men tangled around him, dragging him back.

He aimed the blade at the man’s lower arm, the part that hadn’t already attached itself onto him, but in a panicked hurry, missed and shoved it right in his wrist. It was well off target, and for good reason too. Robin gagged when he saw all the blood.

The man screamed and obviously let go, which allowed Robin to jerk one shoulder free, but another man tugged him back by the wrist. Robin aimed and struck his only defence at the new threat again. This time it was caught.

Robin was pinned against the ground quick. He certainly squirmed- he gave them a hell of a squirm- but he knew it was mostly senseless. While one man locked his shoulder to the ground, the other pressed a boot on his head as if he were some sort of hunted animal, a prize, and Robin didn’t like that one bit. He said something to Robin not long after, rubbing the sole of his shoe into his hair, but he couldn’t catch it. The man was far too above him to hear.

Robin expected death and waited impatiently for it, for one of them to place the barrel of their rifle on his head and blow his g-damn brains out. Instead, they bound his wrists and started emptying his supply bag. Robin watched solemnly as all the toys, magazines, and food fell to the ground.

One of them grunted, “Seems like the surveyors have been rather generous this season.”

“You’re getting the food covered in sand.” Robin grunted back.

It took him a few seconds to realize they shouldn’t have known that he had surveyors nor that he was ever in Discipline.

“What good does it do you by stealing all this junk?”

Robin, in truth, simply didn’t feel like answering that question honestly. “I didn’t steal.”

“Huh, no wonder,” he flipped through one of the magazines, “you know how to read?”

“Mhm.”

The other man let out a loud, single laugh, his wrist now bandaged tightly, “Gabe here told me youse criminals was stupid.”

It took less time for Robin to realize he shouldn’t have known he was a criminal either.

Robin decided it’d be better for him to not question them on that yet. Instead, he asked, “Criminal?” incredulously.

“Tarro and I are looking for some good reading material.” Gabe answered- sort of.

“Gabe, you’re pissing yourself on that one, I can’t even try one of the kid ones.”

“I’ll teach you when we bring him back.”

Robin’s stomach stirred. He didn’t like the word ‘back’. “Where’s back?” he asked.

Neither of the men even thought about answering that. Instead, Tarro replied, “I’d like that.”

Gabe smiled as he began dragging Robin by the ropes binding him, “Good, we’ll start with that, and maybe by the end of the year, we’ll get to writing full sentences.”

“I’m not that smart.”

“Not reading don’t mean you’re not smart- smart’s the skill to pick up things quick- and I’ve seen you learn how to full-on shoot a rifle in less than a day.”

Robin tuned out the conversation as he was dragged and dug his heels into the sand. He knew it wouldn’t do him much good, it was more just to delay.  

Tarro, who was pulling most of Robin’s dead weight, eventually grew tired of it and hoisted him over his back with ease, and it occurred to him that he was in this man’s hands, and by the current feel of it, he had little doubt that he could snap him in half if he wanted- not entirely, perhaps just his spine. He could even imagine the feeling of it, his back aching sharply in the center, where the bone bent, and it would grow sharper and sharper until it finally gave. It would snap then, and he wouldn’t feel a gdamn thing; he’d be paralyzed.

Robin didn’t know why he was thinking about these things.  

He breathed in and out deeply, but quietly to calm himself; he may have been frightened, but at least he was level-headed enough to recognize it. He clenched a fist, then released it, and he did that a few times as he began to wonder where they might be taking him- logistically this time.

He guessed they were taking him to Discipline. It made sense. They could’ve easily read his release date wrong, or they could’ve traced him back to some other crime. Both were very possible.

He flinched at the thought of going back.

They had stopped then, and Robin had been dropped to the ground, landing flat on his back. He felt the suddenness of the wind being knocked out of him harshly, and for that he scowled at them.

Tarro smiled right back at him. “This is back.”

It wasn’t Discipline Robin was brought to- instead, it was their leader’s place, but a part of it he hadn’t seen before. It was shabby for someone of his level, with its walls peeling, floors cracking, etcetera, and Robin thought that was strange for his leader especially. He had met him before, many times, and even if those encounters were brief, it was enough for him to recognize the kind of man he was.

“A trustworthy, hardworking one,” he thought, “but has one hell of a lust for honour.”

There were people there, too, lots of them, but none looking like they had any sort of qualifications to be in the leader’s place to begin with. What he saw were dirty and somber faces, not the usual pampered ones. They were varying also, people of all kinds. It was strange. Robin turned back to Gabe, who was guiding him around the room, “Why am I here?”

“Reirdro said it was because you were a convict.”

Robin responded with a questioning look before saying, “Then why am I here?”

That angered Gabe; Robin could tell by the harshness of him grabbing his shoulders and the forcing them to walk together forward, “You think I know?”

Robin had no hesitancy in saying, “I do.”

“I don’t.” he spat back, made them stop, and pushed Robin forward where another man sat, “There, you’re his. Maybe he’ll know.”

Robin stumbled toward him, and he asked, “Name?”

Robin stared at him and said nothing.

The man gave a small, quick look to the gun near him and raised his eyebrows; they begged for him to try again.

“Robin Corcess.”

“Robin, ah, Robin.” His eyes wandered down the list in front of him, and once they stopped, he pressed an abrupt finger against Robin’s name. “Robin Corcess, of course. Welcome to the Piedro Confinement Centre, or PCC for quickies.” He smiled at Robin who just pursed his lips back: no smiles here.

The man caught on quickly and stopped smiling. “Alright. You’re going to the sixth branch, the one with the big black six on it. Can’t miss it. That’s where the tamer convicts are, mostly thieves; you should be glad.”

Oh, Robin was gdamn thrilled. “Can you tell me why I’m here?” he asked.

“It’s a new law.”

Those weren’t uncommon coming from their leader, but this sort of treatment to his own people was. “What kind of law?”

“That’s all I’m entitled to tell you.”

“But why?”

“Citizens’ vote was for privacy.”

That was new for Piedro. It had been long since established that following the Burning, civilians were no longer fit to contribute to decisions, so they abandoned their democracy and assembled a much more fitting monarchy. No one protested when it was announced nor when Reirdro came into power; it wasn’t a pleasant transition for anybody, but nevertheless, they all knew that it was necessary. Robin knew this also.

Clearly, all of that had somehow changed. “Citizens’ vote?”

He bobbed a nod, “Citizens’ vote.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t wanna give you a second warning, Robin. I really don’t.” Robin could tell he meant it, so he told himself that he would be silent from there on out, “It’d probably be best if you held back all your questions for now- God knows it’ll be hard for you- and it’d also be good if you went to your section. I know it’s confusing and a big transition, but you’ll get used to it in no time, I promise.” He gave a large smile once again, and Robin wanted to scream bullshit right at it. But he didn’t, he just nodded anyway, and the man pointed a thumb directing to an area behind him, “See the door back there? Big Six I was talking about? That’s where you’re headed. You’ll be fine, Robin. And what did I tell you?”

Robin answered, “Hold back all my questions.”

“For now.” he finished reassuringly. Smiling too.

Robin still didn’t smile back, but he didn’t frown that time either.

Robin began walking at relatively normal pace at first, but as he passed person after person, or rather criminal after criminal, it quickened. For all he knew, they could have been eyeing him to beg (as they looked rather beaten), or at worst, plan to harm him in some sense. This room- entire place was thieves, gunman, and axe murderers galore, and Robin was strolling right through it.

He shivered his fears down and proceeded walking, this time with his head down.

And when he reached the door, he sighed in relief for a brief moment, but once again filled with dread as he realized he now had to open it. It took a few long seconds of staring, but Robin mustered enough courage to finally creek it open- reluctantly still, of course.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. There were people talking and most did so solemnly, but others were smiling and laughing, which made him hopeful. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as the other room. Seeing that much relieved most of his tension, though it was only for a brief moment; not long after, the people were staring at him curiously, now silenced. He stood, doing and saying nothing. He hadn’t had the slightest idea what they were all staring for. He shouldn’t have been anything new.

But all of these thoughts were dissolved when a voice yelled, “Robin!”

Robin recognized the voice, his chest swelling with an overwhelming mixture of relief and the most pure happiness once he did. “Idie!” he yelled for him and saw him running from the back of the room, charging straight toward him. He charged at him right back, until they collided into a hug.

“Oh,” Idie sighed into his shirt, “I’m not letting you go. I’m not letting you go.”

Robin said nothing and squeezed. He realized then that it had been six months, six full months since he had last seen him. Thinking that only made him squeeze tighter.

“You look awful.” Idie said, and Robin nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve been hanging for six months- I’m not sure what you expected.” Robin pulled out of the hug and looked Idie directly in the eye, “Where’d you put the kid?”

“She’s in this little mini-house I built in the back of the room, safe and sound and everything.”

Robin stopped and took a minute to simply smile and stare at him. He hadn’t noticed he was doing such until Idie smiled back sheepishly. Robin broke the silence by prompting the two of them to walk to said mini-house and asking, “So what have you two been up to?”

“Usual stuff, confinement thing aside.”

That begged yet another question from Robin, “Idie?”

“Hm?”

“What is this confinement thing?”

Idie raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

Robin shook his head no. “Am I supposed to?”

“No, I guess not. I haven’t a fantastic idea either, since they’re not ‘entitled’ enough to tell us, but I think I have a better understanding than you at least,” Robin could tell he was reluctant to go on, “it’s like- hm. Somebody here explained to all us that it was a ‘democratic’ type thing- whatever the hell- and it was voted against criminal inclusion, ex-ones’ too.” he finished.

That struck Robin deeply when he realized what it meant, “Democracy is when everyone has a say in decisions.”

Idie furrowed his eyebrows as it struck him also, “Clearly.”

As they reached that mini-house, which was nothing more than a blanket and what Robin could tell was a make-do crib, Judy lay, sleeping. Robin smiled at that, her small rising chest with every even smaller breath. That was his daughter. And he longed to pick her up after all that time, cradle her like he used to always do; the fact that they were so emotionally distant now made it all the harder not to reclaim what was. Idie saw the temptation in him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let her sleep. We’ve both had a long week.”

“A week?”

“Yeah a week. About, at least.” Idie smiled, “I was actually beginning to worry they might have let you go.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I suppose no, but believe it or not, I like having you around.” Idie told him, “I didn’t need you though- I missed you like hell, but I managed a lot better than last time you went off and got yourself chained. Now come on, the other guys have been having a fire these past nights and I’ve been alone for every one of them.”

Idie and Robin sat next to the person who looked the least intimidating, of whom was a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties to early-fifties. She bounced a toddler on her right thigh, ruffling her hair while she was at it. They both could tell she was exhausted, hence her almost less than audible cursing and bagged eyes. Idie snickered at that.

They sat in mostly silence, whispering whatever they needed to say to one another on occasion, until the woman next to them eventually spoke up, “What are you two whispering ‘bout over there?”

Idie was miffed by her sudden curiosity, and Robin knew when he did become that, he became real defensive also. It was only a part of his package. “What’s it to you?” he spat back, and Robin nudged him in the rib. At that, he let out a quick grunt and shut up.

“It’s hard to believe I have more social etiquette than you- and all things considered, I haven’t had a real conversation in six months.” Robin scolded him, “We were talking about last week’s events.” he finally answered her.

Her chuckle was nasally, as was her voice, “Were you? Not sure why you’d want to.” She remained smiling for a brief moment and then nodded to Idie, “Him especially.”

Robin looked to Idie, but Idie didn’t him. “Mostly the good things.” Idie said in an attempt to correct his behaviour.

“Oh my God, like the dinners?” she sighed out, reminiscing, “I hadn’t eaten anything that good since Discipline, and gdamn, they even had fruit there.”

It was weirdly funny, Robin thought, how passionate this woman was.

“Fresh, too. You missed it.” she added as if it was absolutely crucial.

Idie twirled a finger at his noggin, smiling, which made Robin smile when he saw Idie smiling the way he was smiling, and then Idie smiled more at Robin’s smiling. The woman looked curiously again, and Robin stopped most of the smiling to continue on the conversation, “What’s her name?”

The woman looked proudly down on her, “River, and her mama’s name is Borris.”

“Yeah, her and Judy have been hanging loads these past nights.” Idie said.

Robin glanced to River curiously. “Have they?”

“Mhm. River and Judy are about the only kids here, so we paired two and two together. Already thick as thieves.”

“Judy’s a real cutie- hardly talks, but makes a hell of an impression, you know.” She gazed at her, “She’s a good match for River here, she’s a real cute too.”

“Judy’s been surprisingly talkative.” Idie told Robin.

Robin furrowed his eyebrows. “Like words talkative?”

“No- not yet, at least,” Idie shook his head, “she’s just been making an odd amount coos and grunts. Screamed once.”

Robin shrugged and smiled. “It’s a step forward.”

And they went on, talking about lots of different things to all of their heart’s content. They learned many things that night, like how the each of them were managing, various ways to continue doing such, and tips for raising kids in what Robin now knew wasn’t exactly a nurturing space. It was a rather giddy conversation for the most part, until Idie pointed out a man eyeing River. It was hard to tell whether he was doing it in admiration or just creepily, so Borris thought it would be best to simply hide her away for now.

Idie nudged Robin, “Can’t forget where we are, not even for a gdamn second.” he said under his breath.

Robin nodded at that, and as they walked back to their spot, he recalled something, “Idie?”

“Yeah?”

“What did Borris mean by you especially?”

Idie looked irked. “Why would you care?” he mumbled.

Robin gave him a skeptical look.

Idie quickly understood it. “What’s with the look?”

“You know why I would care.”

“I wouldn’t for something this gdamn stupid though.” Idie snapped back, hoping that would finish the conversation. Robin’s expression said otherwise.

Robin saw this discomfort in his words and decided he would stop bothering him on it. Instead, he simply open his arms and welcomed a hug. Idie reluctantly accepted, but eventually sunk into it. Idie remembered then, he remembered why he had stayed with Robin for five years of his life and why he had missed him so for six months of them. Idie smiled against Robin’s chest and remained that way for a while, until Robin mumbled something he didn’t catch against his hair.

“What?” Idie asked.

Robin pulled himself out of the hug and repeated, “I just remembered something.” He reached into his supply bag and pulled out a few cutouts as well as entire magazines he had snatched earlier, “These are for you. As an apology for getting caught again.”

Idie stared at Robin incredulously. “No need,” he said, and then added, “but-but thank you.” He meant that genuinely, and he smiled widely at Robin to show it.

Robin nodded and smiled back at him.

They slept next to each other that night with a still out-like-a-light Judy between them. Robin thought that the carpet they laid on was exceptionally uncomfortable, so he tossed and he turned, but eventually succumbed to slumber. That lack of being able to sleep had bothered him, certainly, but it wasn’t near as bad as the alarms that had greeted his ears sharply at precisely four in the morning. That jolted all of them right awake.

Idie was brought to confinement in a truck, a uncomfortably small one at that, and was a part of the small few to be transported that way. It was the first attempt at bringing the criminals to the centre, but Idie had a hunch this method wouldn’t be used following whatever that was. It was dark, confined, and reeked strongly of sweat and piss. Most babies had began crying and or squealing in the first hour. Judy was no exception, but Idie tucked her away in his coat and rocked her back and forth, singing whatever first came to mind, which happened to be this old nursery rhyme he couldn’t recall the name of. He just knew how it went, and the melody spilled from his whispering lips from there, choppily. His voice was broken, and his throat ached from where one of the leader’s pawns had socked it hard. The man had had a ring for each knuckle, each great in size and often complimented with a metallic thorn or something near it. He nearly suffocated when they had punched him, and that was from all the choking alone. Idie decided that it was, without doubt, the most painful part, but he didn’t appreciate the lasting marks and aches they left either. He had covered each cut with duct tape first and finished it off with his scarf to conceal them all.

The crying and screaming wasn’t limited to infants; it quickly spread to children, then teenagers, and finally a few adults. Idie thought it was like a domino effect; one kid would start crying while leaning on a parent, the parent would slowly realize why their kid were upset, and it’d become a reason for them to be both frightened and angry, which would only lead to frustrated tears. Idie used to mock those sort of people, the incompetent parents who somehow got their hands full with a kid, but it dawned on him that maybe these were just people try to manage in a hard situation who also happened to be raising a kid. It also dawned on him that he was likely one of those people to their eyes, and maybe he just didn’t realize it because it was himself he would have to judge. You would’ve thought you would know everything about yourself, inside out and all, when living with them your entire life, but Idie knew that wasn’t how it played out, it never did. He thought that was odd, yet funny.

His mind was trailing off and he wasn’t going to realize that at any point, but what finally brought him back to his senses was Judy vomiting on him. He used the edge of his scarf to wipe all the chunks off himself and her, mumbling, “Yeah, me too.”

He smiled at the infant’s now clean face and ruffled her hair for his own comfort. He was scared more than anything, but he wouldn’t let himself cry any tears out of frustration, sadness, or otherwise. With Robin gone, he promised himself he would maintain everything he had when he was with him: his diligence, his observant nature, and above all his ability to raise a gdamn kid. He would have to keep that last one in check, especially if he was in it alone.

“I miss him,” he told Judy, “now more than ever.”

Judy unsurprisingly said nothing. She only looked at Idie with her shimmering dark brown eyes, and she did that often, but Idie interpreted this particular one as a condolence.

He smiled sadly at her and cuddled Judy. He continued this through the truck furiously shaking, kids and parents alike reaching their breaking points, and the terrible, terrible stench of contained and absolute chaos.

The two of them persevered, and eventually, as if it were award for good behaviour, the door opened and sweet daylight enclosed the truck. A silhouette formed and began approaching them rather choppily, as if he were limping, and Idie stared as the shadow formed to a full image of their leader. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes wander on the variety of people that were resting in the car, and they stopped on Judy. Before he could fix a gaze on her, Idie tucked her deep into his coat and glared. The leader noticed this and glared back, then proceeded to survey the car before saying, “Good morning. I’m Adrian, Adrian D’Reirdro, and more publicly, I’m just Reirdro. Granted this opportunity, I’d like to welcome to you to Piedro’s newest confinement centre. I understand a lot of you are scared and or frustrated, perhaps worried for a loved one,” he paused to make eye-contact with Idie, “but you need not be. I’ve assured every one of you here are in well trusted and protective hands. Now proceeding onward, you are to go to one many desks in the entrance to your left. You will also give them your name and you will be further directed from there. It is rather simple, and I trust that you have no questions on it, but even so, if you do happen to have one, I request you ask it now.”

He waited for a long ten seconds for anyone to raise their hand, and eventually, someone did. The leader glanced toward him and bobbed a nod.

“Where might we find the shitter?”

Idie scoffed, “Classy.”

“No, excellent question,” he snarled and squatted to the man’s level, “I’m not sure you were listening- you seem like the type who wouldn’t, so I’ll repeat myself one more time. Once you give them your name, you will be further directed from there. Does that make enough sense to you to carry on?”

Idie took one look at the man and could tell it didn’t, but he nodded and said it did anyway. Reirdro grew a small smile, though bits a pieces of his snarl were still lost in there. “Awesome. Proud of you. Hope you don’t get lost on the way.” He stood back up, “Now, does anybody have a question I haven’t explained already?”

Nobody dared to move a muscle, much less raise their hand.

Reirdro looked around once more, and once he saw there were no hands, he grinned. “Great, let’s move onward then.”

Everyone did exactly as he said, making their way toward the entrance to the left, as did Idie, until Reirdro pulled him back. “Hello, Idie. I’m Reirdro.” Idie didn’t have a clue as to why he knew his name nor why he introduced himself once again, “I happened to catch you putting away a baby in your coat earlier, and with all kindness, I would ask that you let me borrow her for an hour or two.”

“Borrow?” he frowned.

“To check if she’s had all her immunizations.”

It didn’t take Idie long to find the fault with that logic. He furrowed his eyebrows and made the most menacing expression he could, which wasn’t all that menacing all things considered- he didn’t exactly have a staggering height nor any sort of brawn on him, “Then do the entire damn car, why don’t you?”

“Anyone three or above would have already faced criminal charges if they hadn’t had theirs. I wasn’t informed of any charges of the sort, but your kid is clearly under that age group; ergo, me and my doctors just need to give a quick read over of her medical history just to make absolute sure she hasn’t missed any.” he explained that with what Idie thought was a creepy amount of clarity. “I don’t need Polio running around my house like a gdamn race horse. I hope you can at least comprehend that much.”

“She’s had all of her immunizations.” Idie said that with confidence to show Reirdro he really meant it, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure if that was true. He had never paid much attention to that sort of stuff; it was more Robin’s job than his. Robin was precise when it came to the important things, life or death matters, but he couldn’t have dealt with it while in Discipline. It would’ve been up to Idie.

“It’s great you think that, Idie, and I believe you, but I’d honestly rather be sure.”

They were contradictory statements, but Idie didn’t protest.

“Give me the kid.”

Idie was tired of it all; he was tired from all the running, tired from the constant driving, and most of all tired from arguing. But this, Idie felt, was important, very important, important enough to muster all the energy left in him to protest once more. He shook his head no.

And that’s when Reirdro exploded, lost the cool he had been protecting for quite some time now. He stopped trying to talk it out with him, grabbed Judy by the arm, and snatched her out of Idie’s grasp.

Judy screamed, cried, and snotted loudly in Reirdro’s ear, but he continued on as though those dreadful noises weren’t even there, what concerned him most in that moment was getting her out of Idie’s sight. He was almost out of there, he told himself, a few short metres away from the medical office, but Idie went for him. He reached for Reirdro’s jacket and dug his nails in it, eyes begging, but grip insistent; he refused to let him just walk off.

It wasn’t a smart move, and that became clear to Idie once he felt Reirdro hit his mouth in one massive impact. He fell, stopped himself from hitting his head on the ground, and heaved loudly. He wanted to make sure he could still breath; he felt like he was choking on something- he didn’t know what- though it soon became clear what that something was when blood slowly stained his teeth, then leaking out of his mouth.

Idie remembered the priority and went to push himself back up onto his feet, but as he was about to, he felt Reirdro grab him by his hair and slowly lift his head up, only to slam it right back into the ground.

Reirdro gazed at Idie’s still twitching, almost completely motionless form on the ground. He was more than sure Idie wasn’t getting back up nor protesting after that impact, especially since it was in the head, so he let himself crack a smile at the mess below him and proceed with his walk to the medical office.

Idie felt small, so small when he realized he couldn’t stand himself up, much less chase after Reirdro. It took him a few long minutes to regain his full consciousness, but he eventually managed, and when he did, he felt even worse. He could’ve gotten up then like he had just done now, perhaps if he had tried only a little harder, maybe if he had a little more muscle on him, he could have ran after him once more, or he could have at least done something to prevent it.

Idie stopped himself there. It was a bullshit situation, he knew, and he couldn’t have done a gdamn thing about it. He stopped torturing himself with all the “could haves” and “ifs”; he now thought it would be best if he only hoped for Judy’s wellbeing and safety.

Idie carried on to the entrance to his left with every ounce of energy left in him, hoping greatly.

Late at night, four hours after Judy had been taken from him, Idie laid entirely still and silent in spite of all the noise and motion around him. He was hardly comfortable resting on his still vomit-stained scarf, but he endured it; he found himself caring little for those type of things that night.

His eyelids protested, but he felt he needed to stay awake for Judy’s return. He was so drained from it all; his throat still ached as did his head, and his stomach was sick with fright. Idie thought he couldn’t have felt more terrible.

He stopped pitying himself and told himself that others must have had it much worse, Judy especially. She had been gone for two more hours than Reirdro had initially promised, and Idie wondered what they were doing in this added time. He didn’t want to imagine.

Idie decided it was pointless to fight it off and let himself close his eyes, and almost as soon as he did, there was a light tap on his cheek that fluttered them back open. It was Reirdro. He was leaning down to Idie’s level with Judy, easing her into his arms. “She didn’t have her Tetanus shot.”

Idie didn’t care that she hadn’t had her Tetanus shot, not even a small bit- no, Idie had never given this less of a gdamn f'ing shit in his entire twenty-three years of living. It hadn’t even come close to shaking his still burning fury in the slightest. Idie gave him a glare, digging his nails into his palm painfully. They stared at each other for a few long moments, and Reirdro smiled at him, “You’re welcome.”

You’re welcome. Idie scoffed at that, that Reirdro was expecting any sort of gratitude for stealing his child and damn near killing him because he didn’t like that. Reirdro would have to choke it out of Idie before he got it.

“Up, up on your feet,” Reirdro grabbed Idie’s clenched fist and hoisted him up, “we’re gonna take a field-trip.”

Idie looked back to Judy lying on the ground. “What about my kid?”

Reirdro let go of him and looked worryingly toward the infant, “Oh yeah, can’t forget Jud’ers. Let me grab her real quick.” Idie scowled at that, the way he had pet-named her and how he was the one to pick her up.

Judy rested against Reirdro’s chest, whereas Idie followed behind, “Where we headed?”

“My office. You’re rather lucky, all things considered. I rarely bring anyone in there.”

The three of them walked in complete silence the rest of the way, and as he was walking up the stairs leading to it, a scalding mix of fear stirred and bubbled in his stomach, each step upward intensifying it. It was enough to make him want to bolt back down or perhaps sneak his way out. Idie knew Reirdro had no clear direction; he had little to no idea whether that man would give him a pep-talk or bash his gdamn skull in once they got there.

But then again, he didn’t know what Reirdro would do if Idie had ran away then, so he would force himself up there, no matter how much his legs and stomach protested.

Idie let his eyes wander around the room, unknowing of what to feel. It was classy for Piedro, with the room having a great amount of actual electrical lighting and what looked to be like a working water cooler, a large bucket of more water lying next to it. Idie looked toward it, and the thirst in him passionately awoke; he hadn’t had water of any sort in a whole three days.

Reirdro smiled, “Thirsty?”

Idie, before he had time to hesitate, nodded.

Reirdro began pouring a glass, and Idie’s chest fluttered as he listened to the sweet sound of water dribbling into the cup, making a soft sploosh as it hit the bottom of it. He handed it to him, and Idie took a small sip out of it; he didn’t want to drink it all in one gulp.

“I brought you in here to apologize.” Reirdro told him. “I didn’t want to hurt you, you know. Makes me feel icky. We both got violent, and it went badly.”

That was a lie, and Idie knew it. Reirdro did, in some sick sense, want to hurt him. Perhaps there was something, something small prompting him to spare, begging him to stick to his morals, but a bigger something easily overpowered it, and when it did, it did it strongly. There were a million different ways he could have dealt with him that were more merciful than bashing his head in. He could tell by the passion in his movement, how hard he hit that the sonuvabitch loved every second of it.

Reirdro looked at him in silence, waiting for Idie to return an apology.

There would be none.

“I can’t have health here in limbo. If I hadn’t taken your kid for immunizations, everyone would have locked jaws by next Tuesday.”

“Bullsh-“

Reirdro snapped at him, “Idie.” He waited for Idie’s hanging mouth to come to a shut before speaking again, “I brought you in here to talk, and I don’t need your complaints on how this talking is gonna go. You got any of those, you talk to one of my guys later, yeah?”

Idie bit his tongue, afraid of what it may do to him, and reluctantly nodded, “Yeah.”

“Awesome. You think you can go on?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Anyway, my point being, I can’t have you fighting against me every gdamn second while I protect my people, and I need you to understand that I know what I’m doing. Everything I do, whether it includes violence or otherwise, is to protect you and the people of Piedro, those we care about. Does that make enough sense?”

Idie thought, and then said, “You brought me in here to apologize you said.”

“I said talk.”

“Before, I mean. You said you brought me and Judy in here to apologize.” Idie furrowed his eyebrows in realization, “What happened to that?”

“Well, Idie, I’ll be honest with you; you haven’t done much to show me you can handle an apology.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means that you can’t handle admitting that you were in the wrong also.”

Idie grimaced, “Don’t say that like you can- for Christ’s sake, as soon as you finished your sorries you went on explaining why-“

“Idie.” he interrupted, “Come with me for a second.”

Idie looked at him curiously, but eventually did. Reirdro walked him over to the water bucket, “This is my spare water, only used for droughts, cleaning wounds, etcetera- you get the just.”

Idie quickly peeked at Reirdro, only for a split-second, to catch an image of his expression: a smile, still widening.

“We hardly ever have any of those though, last time we had any sort of drought was summer two years ago; I’d say we got it pretty good.”

Idie stirred.

“I don’t get to use it much, but I’ve had this idea ever since we made Vordes a confinement centre.” he told Idie, “I was thinking since I’m running an entire camp full of criminals, figure shit’s eventually gonna fly, and when it does, that could be when I finally use it. Like as some sort of discipline or something, for the ones who let that shit soar.” He paused, gazing at his reflection in the murky, black water,  “Been ten years since you were in Discipline, yeah?”

Idie’s knees near buckled as they shook; a hot sweat came over him in an intense wave. He gave a quick nod.

“It’s been too long, I think, Idie, too long. I think you need some correction.” Reirdro began wandering over to Idie, “You’ve forgotten what it feels like.”

Idie swung a frantic punch in self-defence, but it was caught by Reirdro as soon as he did. Reirdro held a strong grip around Idie’s wrist, spun him around, and pushed him head-first into the water by the nape of his neck.

It was freezing. That was the first thing Idie thought of as his head submerged. He hadn’t the time to take a last gasping breath, and his lungs screamed desperately because of it. His chest began to ache terribly, it slowly intensifying with every slow second that passed by, and he felt it constricting at a scarily quick rate. Idie shrieked; he was terrified most of water. Drowning.

Reirdro pulled Idie’s head out, “Feel it now? You’re back in Discipline, Boy, my own Discipline.”

Idie sputtered out the water plaguing his mouth and heaved sobs out. This was the first time he cried in three years.

His head dunked once again, only this time, he rebelled. He fought hard against the hand holding him down with everything he had. Idie felt a spark of hope in him as he felt the hand shake, beginning to be pushed back against his resisting head.

Idie escaped the water for the smallest moment, gasping for even the smallest breath during it. He caught water instead, choking, and back in he went.

This, Idie thought, was without a doubt his breaking point. Idie’s chest was on fire now, and he thrashed around to free himself of it. He coughed violently and screamed once again, this time words: Stop stop stop, please stop!

Idie reached fresh air, shivering, his skin pale and lips blue. He felt near frozen, though a small bit of it was washed away by the ribbons of hot streaming down his face.

Idie cried, and he couldn’t remember a time it had hurt this much.

“Blankets. You need blankets, don’t you?” Reirdro trailed off as he walked to his cabinets. He carried a great variety of the comforters tightly in his arms, then laying them gently next to Idie’s quivering side, “These are for Judy and you.”

Idie couldn’t say anything- he didn’t know what to.

“So you give the magazine a quick flip-through and pick the first thing that catches your eye. Then you rip it out and place it wherever, and that’s your starting point, you start building around it. The picture should make itself from there.” Idie told Robin, “Now you try; I have this really pretty National Geographic one just for you; it’s about the ocean, sea creatures and shit.”

Robin struggled to take it all in. “Whatever catches my eye?”

Idie nodded, cracking a small smile. “Whatever catches your eye, you got it.” he confirmed.

So Robin gave the magazine a flip-through, and the image that happened to catch his interest first was one of a plant, seaweed specifically, although he wasn’t aware as to what that was then. He pointed to it. “This one.”

Idie looked and scrunched his nose at it. “You have a funny taste, Robin.”

“What do I add now?”

“I don't know- maybe something else green, or plants or-”

A speaker interrupted, Reirdro’s voice flowing through it.  “Security in Branch Six, please report to Branch One as soon as possible, thank you.”

His words were softer than Idie remembered. Nevertheless, he tensed at them.

“What do you think that is?” Robin said.

Idie felt a pit of worry grow as he recalled. “If I’m not wrong, that’s the murder room kinda- like a high-degree criminal area.”

“I’m surprised they weren’t too unentitled to tell you.”

“Borris did.”

“How did she know?”

“Her brother got sent there.”

“Well how come you’re not there?”

Idie paled. “F'ing- Jesus, Robin.”

“Didn’t you tell me-”

“I was thirteen- bloody thirteen, Robin.” Idie reminded him sternly, “It was a long ten years ago. I’ve hardly touched anyone or- or anything since.”

That was mostly true, Robin knew, that Idie had never really been of the violent sort, and he greatly suffered because of it. The only time he had ever seen Idie get violent was in some sort of self-defence, and even then, he was very cautious and gentle about what he was doing.

Perhaps that was why Robin was so easily agitated all the time in Discipline, because he feared for Idie’s being that way. You couldn’t survive being that way in Piedro- easily, at least, but Idie was managing. That’s what scared Robin the most, that he was doing that still. Robin had felt it couldn’t last, especially with him being chained away and Idie being alone with a child, the most vulnerable living thing in Piedro.

Peace is something Robin could admire, something everyone in Piedro could admire, but that didn’t mean it was justified.

“Hey, Idie?”

Idie looked to him.

“Sorry.”

Idie quirked a small smile and rested a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “It’s fine- just hell of a thing to say, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but now I feel b-”

“Robin.” Idie said.

“Hm?”

“Wanna see what I made this morning?”

Robin reluctantly nodded and Idie guided him to it. It was array of magnificent colours and images in the magazine itself, tiny and separate pieces somehow all joining to make one united picture. The colour scheme had been a blue one, but Robin couldn’t put together any sort of recognizable thing, it just looked correct.

“You made this just this morning?”

Idie pondered on that. “Actually, I’m not sure it was morning. I just woke up and it was still dark out, but I felt pretty rested, so I assumed.”

“What does this one represent?”

“What?”

“Like your internal sadness and how it varies, your longing to free yourself of it- or maybe it means finding your true peace and calm, like the ocean at perfect wind levels-”

Idie cracked a smile, widening, “Oh, f off,” he laughed, “sometimes I make pictures just because I like how pictures look.”

“How’d you see in the dark?”

“With my soul, obviously,” he joked along, and then explained, “the fire usually goes until like five in the morning and I woke up sometime before then.”

“Does the fire represent your endless burning passion for art that blazes and thrives when ignited?”

Idie gave a small punch to Robin’s side, “Robin, I swear to God I’ll...”

A woman overlooked the two, and Idie slowly quieted down because of it. She handled a rifle, a particularly large one at that, but what caught the attention of both most was her thumb resting impatiently on the trigger. Idie could’ve sworn he saw it twitching.

She bobbed a nod toward the other workers, “Work’s over there.” Her expression was lacking any sort of emotion- boredom, if any. “The f are you pansies doing?”

“Talking- figured it’s appropriate, since there’s already like eighty people doing it,” Robin answered, blunt as ever, but eventually grew a smile “But we’ll go back now. Sorry.”

Idie hesitantly followed, and once they were out of earshot, he nudged Robin and whispered, “I hate these people as much as you do, probably, but these guys love their respect. You gotta talk them up real good, like ‘I’m so sorry, Madam, it won’t happen again, I’ll work extra hard to assure it.’ They love that, especially when you use big words like ‘assure’.”

Robin smirked. “I’ll take notes.”

Idie picked up a hammer and swung it around as though he were testing it. “Heavy.”

Robin spun his around, feeling the weight of it. “No shit.”

“Shall we get to it then?”

“Gladly.”

They clinked hammers and went to whacking.

Robin thought this task was particularly grueling- not because it was tiring, far from it, but because of how easy it was to mess up. He had missed the nail for the third time now and had hit his thumb instead, which was now a purple colour bordering with yellow. He pursed his lips around it to relieve the pain.

“Jesus.” he scoffed as he twirled it around; it was an ugly shade from all angles,  “Idie, you got ice by chance?”

Idie squinted at him, and Robin understood the look: the Are You Stupid? one. Robin showed Idie his thumb in response and Idie grimaced at it. “Careful with that thing, alright? You worry me.”

“No need, Idie. I have some. ” Reirdro said behind him and Idie went stiff as soon as he did, wholeheartedly petrified. Reirdro, seeing the look on Idie’s face, gave a polite little wave, “Yeah, hiya. And as I was saying, I promise I’ll give it to your friend here sometime soon, but you’ll have to wait; I have a speech to give.”

Reirdro did as he said he would, he walked up the stairs leading to a balcony overlooking Branch Six, and once he got there, he first prepared himself, rolling his neck right and left, and then yelled, “Citizens of Branch Six.” He stopped there, waiting for them to gather.

A cluster of Branch Six began walking toward and forming a group in front of the preaching man, Idie at the back of it, his heart anxious and hands straining. Robin laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing. It hadn’t helped.

“There’s been minor disturbance in Branch One that has raised some concerns among security. As a part of the Piedro family, I believe you all have a right to know why the amount of surveillance will soon be increasing- never out of lack of trust, but full protection for our loved ones; our kids, family, lovers, so on.” he paused, observing some of his audience’s now frightened expressions contrasted with some other happy ones in there. “Sickos.” he thought, then continued, “As your protectors, we will do everything in our power to prevent any potential threat that may be arising. Know you all are very willing and experienced hands- now, for the time being, we ask you stay in your branch and close to those you love, and take solace in knowing they are in Piedro Confinement Centre, guarded and undisputably safe. Thank you.”

There was applause and heckle, evenly split, and in the midst of it, Idie leaned in, whispering to Robin, “Get Judy.”

He gave a quick nod and ran off, Idie watching him go for only moment before turning back to the man on the balcony, waiting.

It was too vague, Idie decided. It was too damn hard to take solace in knowing anything, and he was smart enough to realize that it was because Reirdro hadn’t given them anything to know. It was obvious he hadn’t had any sort of trust in them- they were all convicts of some ugly sort- and that made him wonder why he had even told of this harm to begin with.

“Perhaps to give the illusion of a trusted leader...”

Maybe that wasn’t true, but it was what made most sense to Idie then, so he took it.

Idie eyed Reirdro as he left, as though he knew everything about him. Reirdro caught his gaze and locked it into a stare, one of a passionate hate, yet understanding for the other.

The eye-contact was broken once Reirdro had fully left the room, but Idie’s eyes lingered there, like he still had something to exchange the look with.

Robin returned with a drowsy Judy on his back and said, “What do you suppose this ‘potential threat’ is?”

“No clue. Didn’t give us much of anything to go off of.” Idie answered bitterly.

“At least he told us something was up.”

That, Idie couldn’t argue.

Idie and Robin sat at the back of Branch Six on a blanket, Judy sleeping in Robin’s arms and Idie leaning on one of them. “What do you think is going on?” Idie asked.

“We talked about this already, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but I just wanna know what you would guess.”

Robin stopped him there. “You’re paranoid.”

“No, no, just genuinely curious.”

Robin removed one of the arms holding the baby and wrapped it around Idie, mumbling gently, “Genuinely curious my ass.”

Idie was too worried to argue nor yell nor be any kind of angry. “I’m not scared, you know.” His voice was lacking any sort of real emotion; if anything, it was a small whisper.

Robin chuckled at it. “Clearly.”

“I just wanna hear what you guess.” Idie repeated.

Robin caught Idie’s glance for a moment, though he took it back as soon as Robin did. Robin tapped him, and when that didn’t work, he did it again and again until he got it, their eyes finally connected, “Look at me.”

Idie looked at him.

“You’ll be fine, and I’ll be fine, and Judy will be fine.” he promised him, “You’ve done amazing getting her here so far. You keeping doing that good and we’ll be better than fine, you hear?”

There was a pause. “I know.”

Robin smiled insincerely. He knew he didn’t. “Glad you think that.”

Idie heard it, the skepticism, and he was about to prove himself, heaven knows he would’ve come right out and said that he did not think, he knew. Reirdro’s return is what once again silenced him.

Reirdro handed Robin a black bag, wet and dripping. Robin looked at him and it funny.

“It’s the ice I promised.” Reirdro clarified.

Robin reluctantly accepted and gripped it, his palm soaked once he did. “Well, thank you.” He pressed it hard against the swelling tip of his thumb and gave a small nod of gratitude.

Reirdro returned the same gesture, only his had a meaningful grin added to it also, “You’re absolutely welcome, Robin.”

A large set of doors creaked opened, drawing almost everyone’s eyes and ears to it.

“F me…” mumbled Reirdro, reaching for his handgun.

Branch Six’s eyes trembled at the sight of the group of eight men, all equipped with a rifle of some size; you wouldn’t have expected them to, but they differed. Reirdro knew why; they were his own guns- motherf'ers had somehow managed stealing them from his soldiers.

They emerged non-violently, and as they did, Robin realized he was familiar with two. Jonah, Murphy, side by side now, big-ass guns in their hands. He knew where they came from, but he hadn’t expected them to; neither came off as the murderous-type, more like the one that would get arrested for wandering out drunk past curfew, vandalizing perhaps.

“Guns up, Boys. Safety off, please and thank you.” Jonah said, a smug smile spreading on his face. His eyes wandered the room, excited whenever they saw a particularly terrified face. They stopped when they saw Reirdro, “Adrian. We want out.”

Reirdro raised his gun higher until it pointed at his head, a gentle reminder of where Jonah stood. “Ah,” Jonah gasped as he realized, “You know what, for some reason, I’m not surprised. You threatening murder to one of your own- seems awfully like you.”

Reirdro fired three warning shots at his feet. Jonah laughed quietly at the marks they left, “Case in point.” He took a frightening pause; almost the entire room’s heart ached as he did, bloody terrified, “You’re real goddamn stupid, you know.”

Jonah raised his middle finger up, signalling the men behind him. They all raised their rifles, higher, a stray middle finger with it, screaming in unison, “F you, Adrian Pissbag-Stringer-Upper D’Reirdro!” It was hardly audible, but there was reluctance in their yells.

Reirdro thought it was funny, how staged that was. He almost cracked a smile. At least it was creative. Regardless, the humor of the situation wasn’t enough to overshadow the fear slowly coming over him. “You’re overpowered.” he said, sparing a quick glance to the shaking citizens behind him. The safety of his gun popped off. “I ask that you leave us alone now.”

“We’re getting off track.” Jonah recalled, “Remember, I and my other friends behind me want out. I nearly forgot myself if I’m being frank with you. You’re real good at conversation, you know.” he giggled, which built up to a genuine, yet shaky laugh, “Shit, I’m doing it again!” he yelled, his laughs so hard he nearly choked on them. He began spinning around, targeting a number of people, “Us and every other branch gdamn out, outside, Adrian. I’ll shoot all these goody f'ers all dead, I swear to God.”

Reirdro, for a moment, considered doing what the man said. It certainly begged the idea when he saw each man’s thumb quiver excitedly on the trigger.

He didn’t- he couldn’t. At that second, he was scarily consumed with the idea being a protector, too consumed to drop his gun nor empty his pockets.

Jonah shrugged at that, ready to pull.

He was interrupted by a shot to the hand, delivered by Reirdro himself. And once he hit one man, he hit another one that he thought looked like they were ready to shoot, and another, and another, until only three remained. Each shot was fatal, and a small number of three remained alive at the end of it all. Reirdro had only stopped because of one of them screaming over another’s unmoving body; it had managed to string his attention away from the mindless shooting to something real, even if it was just for a moment.

Just for a second, he wondered just what their story was: the why and how they met, why they had decided to participate in the murder game, and why they felt so strongly about one another.

This wondering frightened him, it was beginning to lead him somewhere uncharted, and somehow that was enough to convince himself that being the protector of Piedro was the absolute only way to abandon his fear.

So began shooting them, one at a time, spending a great while on each; he would keep doing this until there wasn’t something as little as a twitch among them.

Red blanketed the floor in splatters, but it hadn’t done so much as phase him. He walked through it simply, his handgun tight in his grip, high, and directed at the last two running for the doors. He had five bullets left, and he would use two of them to hit their heads, and the last three for the back-up he was so sure they already sent.

Something lunged for him- Reirdro hadn’t processed what yet, all he knew was that they were why he was currently on the floor, empty-handed. He felt them place the cold metal of a barrel harshly on his forehead, digging it into his skin. His eyes adjusted. It was Idie, and he wasn’t surprised.

Idie held the gun against his head strong, like nothing anyone could say or do could ever make him even consider removing it. He told himself this man needed killing, urgently, that he was relentless and cruel, and that he himself was the only one that could do it.

Robin watched from a distance and saw Idie’s hesitance, the only thing holding him back from running to help him was Borris who grabbed him harshly by the arm and tugged back.

The gun shook violently in his grip and his index finger was beginning to ease off the trigger. He stopped himself from doing so; this man had murdered six, this needed to happen.

And he couldn’t make it. He could never.

Reirdro ripped the gun out of his grip. Idie was shot in the gut. Robin screamed for him.

Idie clutched his spurting wound and grinded his teeth, trying to ignore the pain blossoming in his side. He continued trudging forward, swinging his arm weakly in an attempt to grab Reirdro’s gun from him once again.

Reirdro fired at him again in the same spot and was content.

Idie was overwhelmed when three different sets of hands were instantly on him, pressing harshly on his stomach’s side. He didn’t understand why they were all so anxious to get there, so shaky too, until he felt something warm dribble down it. He stared at Robin’s concentrated, yet concerned face. He recognized it.

He already realized and accepted that he had been shot, twice, but for a reason he didn’t know, he hadn’t expected it to be worthy of this sort of attention, or even potentially fatal. He understood now that they were all over him for pressure on his wounds, and that he was, indeed, at risk.

And when realization came, as did the pain of it, how much his side burned, how heavy the blood dripping down it was,  how little supplies there were, how he may actually die there.

“Idie’s scarf, get his scarf,” Robin commanded Borris, “it’s way back where me and Idie usually are, black.”

Borris nodded once she took it all in and ran to do such, and Idie slowly turned his head in the direction she ran, watching her go. Robin rested a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention. “Idie, you hear me right?”

Idie didn’t feel like he had the capacity to say yes, so he gave a small nod.

Robin went on once he saw that, “We’re gonna add some pressure to the wound, alright? It’s gonna hurt and you’re gonna wanna move, but you can’t- not right now, you hear?”

Idie did. He nodded again.

“Alright,” Robin nodded with him, and Borris handed him the scarf. “I’m gonna remove the bullet first.”

“By pinching in there and ripping it right out of you.” Robin forgot to add.

Robin eased Idie’s shirt up until he saw the first drips of blood. He froze then, but eventually forced himself to pull the rest of the cloth up. It was a bloody mess he saw, and he couldn’t help but gag at it. The fluid was a murky red, thick and spilling gallons as each second passed by. What made it all the worse was who it was coming out of.

“Here goes- you ready down there?” Robin asked Idie.

“Sure.” he grunted the word out.

His fingers dug into him almost as soon as Idie did do such, and Idie realized Robin was right, it did hurt, greatly so. He stirred, almost jolting up once he felt the agony of it, but he forced himself not to.

Idie made several pained grunts in an attempt to replace his movements, but as the fingers went on pulling out the bullet ever slowly, he had squirmed and thrashed a great deal. Eventually, someone came with a roll of duct tape as well as a bucket of water. Robin looked a great deal relieved to see that much.

“Idie, you’re doing absolutely great, okay?” he assured him, “We’re gonna add pressure and clean the blood off now, is that alright with you?”

Idie looked to him. Robin knew the answer.

“Okay, okay.” Robin sighed those words out as he carefully edged the bucket to his side.

He wasn’t sure he could go on.

“I’m- I’m gonna clean the wound.” he repeated to himself, sternly. “I will.”

He tilted it gently, water slowly spilling out onto Idie’s side. It tinted red as soon as it landed there, beginning to wash away the thicker clumps of blood.

Robin moved his hands around the wound gingerly, wiping away what was left of it. “Done.” he choked, relieved that it finally was.

“Cloth, wrap it around him.” a man said, holding Idie’s scarf tight in his grip. He urged Robin to take it.

He did and laid it gently on him, whereas others handed him strips of tape to hold it down with. There were eight placed in total, two on each side of the rectangle. Robin looked at it, what he had done. That was the end result. His fingers were stained red when he went to touch it, damp. Still, Robin nodded to the others, telling them Idie was okay and that they could go off now.

And once they were gone, Robin sat next to him and said, “You’re amazing, you know.”

Idie’s eyes fluttered back open, his voice dead.“How come?”

“You were so quiet and so still, made me concentrate better.” he smiled at him. “That’s a hard thing to do.”

Idie smiled back, his eyes sad, “Thank you. For the bandaging and all that.” he said, and reluctantly, with a pause before, told Robin, “I’m still bleeding.”

It struck Robin deep. He knew Idie was, somehow he knew he was, but to actually hear it was a painful weight he wasn’t near ready for. “I know.” His voice shook as he brushed hair out of Idie’s eyes, “I’m sorry. It’s really all I can do.” He sounded frustrated with himself.

Idie sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

The two stopped, staring at one another, unsure of what to say then. It hadn’t been a tense moment, more natural.

Idie, eventually, said something, “Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember yesterday, when I wouldn’t tell you why it was me especially?” he asked and explained before Robin could answer, “He tried to drown me. Three times. And it was the first time I was...that afraid of something.” He went on, his voice beginning to shake from the pain of his wounds. “I cried so hard for so long, and I couldn’t take care of myself- much less the kid. Borris helped me get back together. That’s when we met.”

Robin’s throat squeezed. “Why are you telling me this now?” he asked, a part of him knowing, a part of him not.

“I wanna tell you everything.”

“But why now?”

“Robin,” he said, “Judy vomited on me for the first time, about a week ago. I feel like a real parent now.”

Robin laughed shakily and sadly, but also happily; sad because that was when he understood why he was doing this, happy because after five long years, this was when he decided to finally do it. Feeling such, he decided it was best not to question him on it. “Did she?”

Idie laughed with him. “Yeah, she did. Bread, I think.”

Their smiles faded with time, and Robin’s expression had gone solemn all to quick. “Idie,” he decided it was his turn now. “I’m afraid. For you.” he admitted, no hesitancy in saying such.

“No, but you know what you are?”

“Hm?”

“Killing the mood.”

Robin cracked a smile, gripping his hand. “It’s just the truth.”

“I know. I know it is,” Idie frowned, squeezing back, “I just… I don’t want it to-”

Robin stopped him, “Idie.”

Idie’s breathing began to struggle. Heaves began overpowering his words. “I don’t want you to be sad about it.”

Robin had no response. His eyes were on fire now, his throat caving itself in at a staggering force. He wouldn’t let himself, by God he swore to himself he wouldn’t. He would never.

Tears were shed, and Idie looked at them upset as they fell. “Robin.”

He began frantically trying to wipe away his tears. “God, I’m sorry.”

“Robin,” he repeated, softer this time, “I love you, you know that? I love you a whole lot.”

Robin stared at him, his cheeks wet and burning.

“I just don’t say it enough.”

“We don’t say it enough.”

Idie smiled weakly at him, gripping his hand tighter. His grasp was shaking now, his entire body begging him to release it. He felt it creeping up on him, slowly, but absolutely. His eyes protested vision, his body movement, his throat speaking. Nevertheless he reached with everything in him and touched Robin’s neck, then his cheek, then his tears.

Robin watched as the hand fell and landed limply on his lap. Idie’s body laid motionless, eyes wide open, still staring at Robin. Robin gently closed them and placed Idie’s arm back by his side.

Idie hadn’t done so much as move a muscle as Robin did this. He remained so still and so quiet the entire time, not saying anything in protest nor annoyance- he hadn’t said a gdamn word. This was only expected, of course, but this realization came as one painful strike to Robin.

Robin cried, and he couldn’t remember a time it had hurt this much.

Reirdro returned to Branch Six early that morning, drowsy. Regardless, he had yet another speech to deliver- he certainly tired of those- so it was an absolute must to remain fully awake. He had a full eight hours of sleep that night, but the situation he had dealt with that night had been especially tiresome. He rubbed his eyes and made his way up to the balcony, combing his hair back during such. He had brought the bucket from his office this time, a hammer too. He whacked them together, over and over, as hard as he could, until almost everyone had woken up. Most simply stared, and only a small few had actually crowded around him.

“Citizens of Branch Six,” he yelled, “I kindly request you listen intently as to what I have to say, as it may benefit you and those you love.”

Another few had gotten up to join his crowd. Nevertheless, most had remained seated.

“Citizens,” he repeated, frustration clear in his tone, “I request you listen intently as to what I have to say.”

Only one had gone up and joined the listeners. Reirdro waited patiently for the rest to do the same, until Borris shouted, “If you’re waiting for us, you might as well go on. I imagine a lot of us are well comfortable here.” And once she saw the look on Reirdro’s face, she added, “We’re listening. Real intently, too.”

Reirdro grimaced at her first, continued after, “As I was saying, I’d like to apologize for last night’s events, how I failed to prevent Branch One’s attack. It was extremely reckless of myself and Piedro’s soldiers to not reinforce our security in Branch One and allow this vicious attack to occur. This incident is sincerely ours and ours only fault. The past aside, Branch One has been dealt with and highly secured, so rest assured nothing of the sort will happen again. All of us here should be most grateful no one of Branch Six was killed in this incident-”

Not a word had been said, yet an ugly note echoed. Reirdro felt as though he had been interrupted.

He paused, and then proceeded,  “There will be no work as of today. It is in my best hopes that each and every of you are able to carry on with a peace of mind, and that we can continue supporting one another to get through this. Thank you for your time, Branch Six.”

Reirdro finished and made his way back down the stairs. He strolled through Branch Six as he usually did, checked in on various citizens as he usually did, the only real difference was the fear he noticed. It resonated within everyone’s voices, within that entire room. This wasn’t unusual, that Reirdro knew, but this sort of fear hit a certain beat that was.

He disregarded everyone and thing that brought this feeling; he kept walking.

But something caught his eye.

A body laid at the side of the room, Robin sitting close to it. Its face was concealed with a jacket.

“Who’s that?” he asked, stupidly.

There was no answer, just a pained stare.

Reirdro crouched down and went to remove the concealing cloth. A hand slapped his wrist away before he could.

“Don’t touch him.” Robin faltered, and then he got angry, “You know gdamn well who that is- if you didn’t, you’d be all Discipline on my ass for first-degree murder.”

Reirdro hadn’t expected the gunshots to be fatal. It took him by great shock in fact, and there was an odd pleasure mixed in it he wouldn’t ever admit was, not to anyone, and especially not to himself. He hadn’t ever taken any sort of liking for Idie: his constant and whiny protests, yet lack of ballsiness. It felt like he had simply pulled out a weed.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Robin gritted his teeth. “Then what about Idie?”

“What about him?”

“Does that mean you’re sorry for killing him?”

“No.” Reirdro said, firmly and bluntly, as though it was a fact, “He held a gun to my head, Robin.”

“So you just fired at him in the stomach?” he asked, incredulous of what he was hearing, “Twice?” he added.

“Is that terrible of me?”

“You killed another six, too.”

“Who threatened a massacre on my Branch Six.” he finished, “I don’t kill with my gun, Robin, I right with it. There’s near a hundred of you here, so forgive me if I kill a few to save that much.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

Robin struggled any answer; what made it feel that way to begin with was something of sheer

gut feeling. There was never any way to explain that.

“They were your own.” It was only a guess, in truth he had little idea of what exactly it was. It was something near, he knew, but not absolutely that.

“They stopped being one of my own when they pointed eight rifles at me.”

Robin stared. Contempt.

“I have to go now, Robin, and whether you take it or not, I am sorry for you. Really, I am. I assume you two were close.” he told him, then asked, “By the way, how’s your thumb feeling?”

Again, no answer. Reirdro left him alone after that.

“Did they? Did they really? That sudden?” Robin wondered.

He needed to get away from this man and his madhouse, far away. He had decided this long ago now, that he and Branch Six undisputably had to make distance from the confinement centre tomorrow’s early morning. He had it planned out, the weapons they could get their hands on and how they would use them, an escape route, how to handle the kids. He’d discussed it with plenty, and he was confident he had followers to back him up if any single thing went wrong.

After extensive, heavy debating, it was concluded that there would be a homemade sling and a make-do bat.

Robin wore one large cloth entwined with others. It was tied loosely, but sturdy around his neck, and was arranged way to carry two, Judy and River. There hadn’t seemed to be any sort of apparent issue with the design yet, though Robin felt it was very likely one of the girls would slip out at any given moment. They had tested it out, walked and then ran. Neither of the infants had slipped out at any point, it hadn’t even come close; nevertheless, Robin was uneasy about it.

“Can you check for loose bits?” Robin asked Borris.

She nodded and felt around the sling, “You’re tight and ready.”

“Are the girls?”

She secured it once again, just for Robin’s comfort, “Yeah.” she said, and then pointed, “Hand me the bat.”

Robin did, and she held it gently in her grasp. She tapped it lightly twice on her palm, admiring the feel of it, and gave it a swing. A smile creeped on her face.

“Are the others ready?”

“I let a few have a quick piss-break before- since it might be a long walk to Artrer and all- but yeah, mostly. They’ll be back soon I imagine.”

“Sounds good,” he bobbed a nod, “and everyone knows what we we’re doing and where we’re going?”

She shook her head, placing River, then Judy in the sling. “No, but I think they’ll catch on.”

He frowned. “I don’t want anything to be a shock.”

“It’s a simple plan. I don’t see how any of it could be any sort of shocking.”

“It’s also a mix of people.”

“A mix of criminals, who’ve all probably dealt with a lot more shocking shit prior to.”

Robin couldn’t counter that.

“Robin, hey, listen. I’ll round everyone up while you get everything we need.” she said, about to make her way and do as she said she would. She stopped before she did, adding, “And whatever you need. Especially.”

Robin watched as she ran off, and after took a quick look around, anything that could come to any use at any point. He had grabbed one of many magazines he and Idie had left a mess at the back, empty bottles once filled with hardly clean juices- mostly water with small hints of mint, and scraps of wood scattered around the fire pit.

He stood and inhaled, looked at those who had chosen to stay, wondering what would come for them after their escape. They had protested it, saying once he realized they were long gone, Reirdro would do the same to them as he did to the Branch One madmen, that he would think they assisted. Robin assured them that was exactly why they had to leave, and that he would kill him before he could.

He waved his goodbyes to a few, and proceeded walking to where Idie’s body still laid. He crouched down to its level and gazed at it. He lifted a wrist, wrapping his palm around its, firm and assured, with strength. It was a goodbye, to both Idie and the confinement centre.

Robin removed the jacket blanketing his face and put it on himself. It was Idie’s, now his, but instead serving as a memory.

He left after that.

Borris got up from her lean on the wall once she saw Robin returning. “Biding time?” she commented.

Robin shook his head no. A small smile crawled on his lips.

It took her a second, but Borris eventually recognized the jacket. She smiled at that also. “Hope not. Everyone’s ready ‘cept you.”

Robin followed behind as the crowd gently walked their way out of Branch Six. Eight of them were on the garage door, greatly struggling with lifting the heavy weight while still remaining silent. The steel squeaked, chattering as it rose.

A sleeping soldier guarding Branch Six awoke to it, and as his eyes adjusted to see a crowd of fifty least, almost all struggling to lift up the garage door containing them. Frantically, he stumbled to reach his gun. Once he finally had, he fired twice on the ground, a terrified warning. It had caught everyone’s attention quickly.

“The f is this?” he asked, his voice cracking a few pitches as it trailed off, incredulous to the extreme. “The ever loving f is this?”

Borris held her club close and approached.

She tilted her head toward the door. “Can you open this?”

He couldn’t; the crank was placed on the other side of that door for precisely this scenario.

He hadn't dared told them this though. “Put the wood down.”

“No.” she said, blunt and assertive. “No.” she repeated.

He pulled a gun.

She looked at the crowd behind her, and then back to him. “There’s more than a good sixty of us here, I can promise you that.” she told him, “And they’re all behind me, soldier, they’re all behind me.”

Faintly, he nodded.

She nodded back, lowering her bat, “Alright, good nodding. Is this electric?”

He shook his head.

“Alright, alright. Is there any way to open it from this side?”

Again, no.

“He can help all the same.” Robin added, walking up to Borris and standing next to her. “I’ll find a prop, you get him on the door.”

So Borris did, and not long after Robin came back with one of many bottle carts that laid around the fire. “This should do.”

He rolled it towards the door and queued the others, “Lift.”

With great grunts and heaves, they lifted.

“Just a little more and you’re there.”

And they lifted higher, some actually going beneath the door to get a better angle to push at.

Once Robin saw the perfect height, he rolled the cart underneath, backing away from his slowly, as if not to disturb the structure of it. It began bending underneath the door’s weight, and that was when Robin began rushing them.

“Now, everybody under now.”

Everyone began ducking under, the soldier being no exception. Robin grabbed by his sleeve and yanked him back before he could.

Robin removed the prop in an instant, and the door smashed against the ground with a stunning volume, echoing throughout the room.

The door had opened to a dark hall, nothing to see.

“Any lighters?” a man whispered.

A long pause, and not a word. They kept walking.

Borris pointed her bat forward, feeling around. It dragged along a wall, until it hit something rather thin. It jingled against the impact, and Borris recognized the sound. Her hands wandered until her grip found it, running her hand down it while she waited for the crank.

Far from the crowd, someone mumbled something, none of the crowd heard what. Borris swung in the voice’s direction, but only hit air. The lights flickered on, revealing the man who had made the noise. He pointed a shotgun in his right hand, a radio held close to his mouth in the other.

Borris swung down hard on his left hand. A bone cracked as the radio flew out of his grip, smashing against the floor. He screamed at his crooked hand and fired his gun straight ahead, which as he squirmed, flew upward. Bullets punctured the ceiling and dust floated down. It hadn’t hit anyone.

The gun dropped, and a man scrambled out of the crowd to get it.

Borris tightened her latch around her bat, readying; she banged it three times against the garage door, making three scarily loud crashes piercing almost everyone’s ears, her eyes demanding. She pointed it at the door, then between his eyes: Open.

He paled, reluctant drawn all over his expression. Borris waited patiently for a full ten seconds before whacking once again. She gave it five slams that time.

His face twisted in sorrow as he went to turn the crank with his one good hand. He had done the cranking slowly, as slow as he possibly could without raising any sort of question out of the mob. He acted as though it were heavy, grunting and shaking his hand, waiting.

Branch Six watched as the door rose, more and more cold breeze drifting gently through, meeting almost everyone at one point. Robin’s body soothed as it travelled through it, and he looked at the moon. It was fogged through black clouds, but he could still see it, he could still see it well, its white hue. It was inviting.

Robin was shoved out of the way by a man, running ahead to get to the outside. Seeing that, a woman had done it too, then another woman with two teens, a man with a young girl hoisted over his shoulder, and this only went on until Robin was the only one inside. He took his own step forward, his boot sinking into the sand; he had missed the feeling.

There were gunshots, ten of them. Robin’s head throbbed in one quick and painful instant as the girls screamed, his foot drawing back in a sudden movement. He covered the children’s ears, one each, knuckles shaking.

Footsteps approached. His vision throbbed in blurs as he looked for anywhere he could avoid the same fate. A staircase was the first thing he could process, empty behind each step. He tucked himself beneath the lower stairs, covering the children’s mouths, and watched through the cracks provided.

Branch Six was pushed back in with rifles on their backs, then sat down by the soldiers. Robin saw that they still kept the same number as usual, but nevertheless, it felt emptier.

Dust sprinkled Robin’s head, thuds making their way down the stairs. Robin looked up to see the soles of someone’s boots, which as it went down, eventually developed to be the full image of Adrian D’Reirdro.

He shooed away his shoulders, and made his way to the center of them all. So they could all see them now.

“Branch Six,” Reirdro circled them, patting his shotgun against his palm, “what happened here?”

No one, as expected, answered.

Reirdro stood there, frustrated with the silence. He furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, as though he were holding back something, until Reirdro extended a single arm and fired once in the air. The crowd yelped.

“How many times do I have to ask you a simple question before you get it!?” he yelled. It was the first time he had done so with such a scary passion, the first time ever even. It rendered everyone there into a complete silence. “How many times do I have to offer you safety before you take it!?”

No answers, of course- in Branch Six, there were never any answers to anything, Reirdro decided, and there was a simple way not to fix it, but get a small burst of something vulnerable out of them. Reirdro first sucked, then grinded his teeth, yanked a woman up by her hair, and fired in the head. Branch Six screamed as her body fell, limp.

Killing. Killing was the way.

“Noise, see!” he grinned, ever wide, and raised his hands triumphantly, “Noise!  Noise! Noise! Look at all the noise you people can make!”

Robin stirred greatly, feeling sick as he watched him.

Reirdro began circling his gun around, point at one citizen, then another, then another. “Scream more. Scream some more.” he threatened.

No one had screamed. Not until he had fired yet another shot dangerously close to a man.

They had all screamed then. And Reirdro conducted them like a choir, pointing his gun at some to increase the intensity of them, and lowering it to meet silence.

He lowered the gun. “Stop. Stop it now.” he commanded, hints of politeness lost in there. “Where’s Robin?” he wondered.

It was a sudden strike, a violent throb at the mere mention of his name.

Reirdro, quickly and frantically, began looking around for him, as though he were right under his nose. “I shot his boy, I shot him twice. I figure he’d be the head of- whatever the hell- where is he?”

He stopped- he had seen something, he had seen something big. He had seen a bat. “Lady,” he referred to Borris, “bat. Bat, please.”

Borris scowled and scooted away from it: By all means.

He picked it up and began dragging it across the floor, listening intently to the scrape of it against the hard cement floor. Look at what he was doing, look at the madness in the justice, look at what he had made.

He was enjoying this, very much so.

“Robin,” he called out, ironically in the exact opposite direction than who he was for. “Robin, you try and escape and I’ll bash everyone’s skulls into this cold f'ing ground. And I mean that.”

Robin reached into his sling for a bottle, hands wandering, and once he found one and got it into his grip, he approached. One took notice, two took notice, three took notice, the entirety of Branch Six noticed, and eventually, as did Reirdro. Their eyes locked, a beat. Robin charged.

The bottle smashed into Reirdro’s cheek before he could shoot, glass shards digging into his flesh, stuck there now. He stumbled, his gun slipping with him, and eventually succumbed to the ground. He held a hand to conceal the wounds and took a shaky breath. It had hurt like hell.

Robin stood above, the sharp edges of the bottle pointed right at him. Robin’s face was drawn with terror, yet confusion through the green hue of the bottle. “The f kind of leader are you?” The question was shaky.

“The one Piedro nee-”

Another smash, the same cheek.

Weaker, he repeated, “The one Piedro needs.” His face softened to something else, something genuine, “This was a f'ing democratic decision, Robin, not my own, because they were ready for it. They knew what they were asking for. I made it happen, because that’s what I’m supposed to do- that’s my job.”

Robin stopped himself from swinging that time.

“They’re doing better. Much. A casualty now is rarer than a crop.” he said, laughing, “That’s an actual statistic.”

Borris handed Reirdro’s gun to Robin and a small nod with it.

Robin raised the gun and dug into the side of his head. His finger quivered on the trigger; he wanted this to happened, he had wanted this for a while, greatly so. He was happy to be doing this.

And at that same time, he also wasn’t. Along with his happiness came sadness, or maybe emptiness. There was something missing, and Robin recognized what it was quicker than he had expected. This wasn’t his role; the one who it belonged to was long dead and gone, and that was why it was Idie’s to begin with. Reirdro had punished him again and again, he had murdered him out of sheer fear, fear entwined with his own hunt for leadership. A citizen had died because of that.

Idie should have been there right then, to see how it all ended. Robin decided this was why he would simply have to end it for him.

He was well ready to shoot. It needed to happen, because this man was crumbling, and it was inevitable he would take Piedro down with him- he almost had already. He needed a bullet, he had damn near begged for one every speech he gave, citizen he made suffer, person he had killed.

Robin didn’t shoot. Instead, he dropped the gun. He had done so for Idie.

Reirdro laughed at that. “Motherf'ing cowards, Piedro’s filled with them.” he said, smiling at Robin’s twisting expression, “Yeah, you understand now. See, this why I’m their leader. I’m the only one who goddamn can.”

“Robin-” Borris looked at him angrily for a moment, until she understood.

“You can shoot him.” he said, kicking the gun her way. “I won’t stop you.”

Borris stared, eventually nodding. She picked up the gun and settled it in her grip. She pulled the trigger.

There were no screams, no cheers either. There would only be a complete and true silence.

The group was beaten down, from both the days of walking and the lasting bruises, scratches, and cuts the confinement centre had given them. Most were rather limp, eyes bloodshot and bagged as they hadn’t much of any rest the past week.

Nevertheless, they persevered. They all had.

On the third day of walking, they had reached Artrer, a smaller section of Piedro. It was quieter than usual, looking from above all you could see were citizens living peacefully. They had been browsing markets, they had been conversing with one another, they had been savouring the delightful little snacks they now had, they had been enjoying eachother’s being there, and above all, they had been appreciating Artrer as a whole.

The group of criminals began approaching it gingerly, but eagerly also.

The citizens of Artrer went on, barely paying any notice to the crowd of wounded just in front of them. So the group felt it was safe to approach a little more, seeing exactly what these citizens had a little closer.

They kept approaching, little by little, step by step, until someone had finally caught it. A man stopped in his place, his eyes fixed on the group in front of him. There were forty or more of them, all damaged in some sense. These weren’t citizens, he knew; citizens weren’t ever this wounded, this sad.

The staring spread amongst citizens, one telling the other of what exactly they were seeing. Almost every one of them now stared at the criminals, and the criminals stared back. The citizens stared long and hard at the pain inside the crowd, this sadness also. They saw bruises, cuts, lashes, solemness, wounds of all kinds- they saw everything. And the citizens realized.

“You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them. You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will find a way to resist. And there are many of us out there, more than you think. People who refuse to stop believing. People who refuse to come to earth. People who love in a world without walls, people who love into hate, into refusal, against hope, and without fear.

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.”

― Lauren Oliver, Delirium

The End