Empty: Book 2

39 : Rotten

Content Warning: R-18

PANA

For the longest time, and another, these two male bodies had lost their senses to pride to be scattering like poisonous fractions of their fragility worthy of my laughter. They're a perfect match in hell, mercy, the day isn't about their long to die in each other's hateful arms. But it teaches me to find a different way as a mediator.

I cocked my gun ready and it was cathartic, but still didn't hook these non-sensical beings inhabited by their silent warfare to have me problematic. Behind the grass is what my attention pulled, a hidden movement wanting my annoyance, and the awfulness is hinted at; an organism the world called a dog while eating its same species but dead, decaying, unburied, and thoroughly wounded in a mishap of being a defenseless corpse.

Not long when the greedy caught my eye who caught its act, the animal aggressed with a bark but eventually cowardly ran after sensing my heavily approaching revenge, a hand armed with the punishment of a gun. The beast runs fast, yet I'm evenly wrathful to catch its escape and ignite its little head exploded with a bang, bloody but still attached as it splats. It reminds me of one thing I only loathed― a dead being eaten by an alive.

My cavalrys' footsteps arrive in haste, followed by a boastful hand crawling on my back where it ruthlessly stays to remind me of one thing I only fear― an abusive creature who couldn't be killed, my brother whom I can't call my blood, but he is. He's a prison, everything in his air is my chain where I can do no defense, but keep my words behind my teeth.

The loudest clap from a pistol got my senses open to actuality in a single boom sending spark to my brain, shown in my eyes spontaneously closed by a bullet certainly sputtered from a concerned watcher, certainly of mine. He's not sorry, but I like how he despises me for that. Traumatized ears only reclaimed their ability after hearing the doer's voice, "Bring us to the woman, now," his coldest tone pronounced the command.

Stress in my eyes carefully recovering like the bullet will be followed by another, the first view I behold is Joas on his back treading out the clutter to be now in a credible bloodshed when Titus steps out for a secret attack from behind, in a tide of swelling offense through a lifting fist where I can only think of one thing to continue the job as a peacemaker.

"No! Let me go! Let me go!" my hostage, the old human, screaming for his life in the hand of my gun on his head, choked by my warm hand nuzzling his neck.

The two instantly turn to witness the scene proving the usefulness of this strategic threat. Even more when Titus cast a stare of surrendering dignity as my notice was suspiciously interpreted by him. He hated it, a death mostly of an innocent beyond his sentimental matter as it was― remindful at all ―the reason he was dead. Glory to my lone mechanism to force him temporarily kill his eternal silliness around Wolf's son mainly today, he's disciplined.

• • •

"Ride on everything I do and everything I'll say, then the world could be better. But one man must venture a secret investigation at the back of the house while the suspect is being distracted by two." masterfully, Joas advised, eye on the finally found place of interest in this gloomy avenue of the devoid homes and unknown faces, "...guess it's your moment now, mister investigator. Have it," he bragged the bothered Titus. The tease works purposely where my brother exited himself after leaving a supplementary earpiece to have this man's movement rely on as he had on mine.