I Am A Flyer

Resolve

So easy.

So easy to kill. Anyone could do it, given the right conditions. Even I, myself,. . .my hands, dripping with blood. . .my hands, which had taken the life of another. . .

I, who had been so determined not to harm another human being, had taken a life. What am I now? Nothing. Nothing but a worthless monster who killed. . .

. . .nothing. . .

...

It was mid-afternoon, and the heat was awful. Suil couldn't believe the fact that the flyers – in those heavy, dark suits – seemed to not be affected. It wasn't fair. He was soaked in sweat – even his hair was wet, plastered to his head like a second skin.

He lifted his chin, and squinted up at the brightness of the sky, searching. Searching for a glimpse, a sign. And like all other times he had looked, there was nothing. What was happening, he wondered, wherever his friend was. . .

All but two of the flyers from the other base had taken off and left, heading back. The two that remained quietly talked with the masters – the flyers who were in charge of training the teens. Suil held back an irritated scowl.

The whole purpose of this visit from the flyers of the other base was simply to see how fast the masters could turn out flyers. The war they were fighting was heating up, and they were getting worried about their dwindling numbers. Thus they wanted each teen to be trained up as quickly as possible. By talking with each of the masters, they figured out each kid's strength's and weaknesses, and suggested possible training regiments that lasted no longer than six months.

From what Suil heard and understood, it sounded like most of those six months would be spent learning to fly. He furrowed his brow as he thought over it now. Why was it so important to fly? Didn't the flyers just use the skill to get from place to place?

There were vehicles around – cars, trucks, and planes, too. With those faster and more logical modes of transportation – at least for the bigger cities – it was kind of useless for a flyer to fly. Wasn't it?

Irritated and confused, Suil fixed his gaze on the two Main base flyers. These two were older men, with hard, chiseled features, and eyes grim from experience. Just looking at them sent shivers down Suil's spine. These men were survivors – they had seen countless battles, countless bloodshed, and yet they remained, still alive. Like stone beings that weathered hundreds of ferocious storms.

Suil flopped onto his back, and stared up at the sky. Seconds later, his gaze caught sight of a dark spot, growing larger as it drew near. At once, he bolted up, getting to his feet in a mere second.

Was it - ?

He stood rigidly, heart beating fast. His gaze didn't move, straining to make out a human figure floating on great black wings lined with purple. Second passed, stretching out into long moments, before he could see that it was Raven. Raven, carrying a still, small figure beneath him.

Jett!

...

I am just like them now, wasn't he? A criminal – a murderer, thief, killer, all those awful things. . .

But. . .it had been an accident. It wasn't like I had stabbed the man on purpose, right?

The man was still dead, though.

And at that moment, that brief moment of time – I had seen it. The man had been afraid. The man hadn't wanted to die. He had been just like any other person, then. Everyone, in some small way or other, truly didn't want to give up life.