The Fall of Power

Wings and Biscuits

"If you keep tightening that stupid thing, you'll break it."

"No, I won't. I smacked it against a tree once. I'm sure it'll be f-"

Snap!

I looked down in silence. I had been doing some small repairs on my set of Cleanser wings, which included tightening the bolts and re-wrapping the main body.

"I think you dropped this." My twin brother said as he handed me the bolt that flew off the joint I was working on.

My twin's name is Confederate. I like to call him confetti just to piss him off. He's a bit shorter than me, but he's also probably not as smart. He can throw a punch though. He's got a problem with his brain or something because he sometimes just doesn't understand anything related to social cues or expressions. Dad says a Tainted got a hold of him when we were younger, Mom just says whatever dad does.

"Thanks." I said sarcastically. I snatched the bolt out of his hand, "can you just, I don't know, leave me be?"

"No." he then draped himself over the arms of my chair, effectively trapping me in place.

I let out a sigh. Placing the bolt in place, I screwed it back on. "If you're so good at judging how tight it is, why not take a look."

He lifted his head up to look and poked the joint. "Looks good to me."

"Hey Con, are you interested in joining the Cleansers? You seem to know a lot about the stuff we do and you're good at fighting."

"Unlike you, I'm not good at long-range shit or strategies."

"So you finally admit I'm better huh?"

He jerked upwards and slammed his head into my chin. The two of us fell out of the chair as I leaned over. Rolling around and tickling each other, we laughed. The project now forgotten, chair discarded to the side, we laid on the floor. Our backs to the wood flooring and out of breath. The only sound was small giggles and wheeze.

"Kids, dinner!" Mom called from downstairs.

The two of us scrambled to our feet. I pushed Con out of the way and threw the door open.

"Hey!" He yelled as I slammed the door in his face.

"Fuck you, I want the first biscuit!" I bolted down the hallway.

Passing another open door, My younger brother Canada poked his head out. However, upon seeing me hurtling down the hallway, he ducked back inside. I threw myself down the stairs, my feet thumping down on every other step. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I grabbed the railing and swung myself towards the dining room entrance.

My mom stood there by the table, in her hands was a basket covered by a small hand towel. The biscuit basket. Score.

"Slow down there hun. Don't hurt yourself." She said, setting down the biscuits.

"No time, biscuits." reaching over the table, I yanked the towel off and grabbed a biscuit.

I stuffed the whole thing in my mouth like a chipmunk. It was nice and warm and buttery.

"Ame you bitch! You said I could have it!"

"Confederacy! Watch your language!"

I let out a muffled giggle as Con frowned. He glared at me for a second. I pulled out the half-chewed biscuit.

"You still want it?" I held it out to him.

He let out an audible gag and shook his hands wildly, "ew ew ew, I don't want it, get it away from me!"