Golden Hour | Cole Stewart AU

The Fire's Out Still It Burns

COLE

The first thing they taught us at the Children’s League was how to think through panic. You couldn’t let fear get a hold of you or you could kiss all chances of survival goodbye. They ran us through simulation after simulation until our minds and bodies became numb to panic.

But no amount of training can prepare you for the moment when you’re staring down the ugly end of a gun.

I've never been as afraid as I was when the bullets blazed towards Liam and me, five months ago.

Hell, I nearly stopped breathing.

But it was fear that made me act. They just didn't teach us that fear was our enemy but that we could control it, even master it. We had to control it. There was just no other way out.

When all odds are against you and fear wraps around you like a coil, you have to fight back. Because there is no other choice. And I fought back with every last nerve until I survived.

The man sitting across me might be watching me with absolute hatred but I know that I would find layers of fear underneath that loathing.

His hands are bound by handcuffs, the glare hasn't left his face since I walked in here. My gun is safely tucked underneath my shirt, the cold metal presses against my skin. I am not allowed to use it unless I absolutely have to but the presence brings me a familiar kind of comfort. I was amazed that they even gave one to me.  Even if they hadn’t, I would’ve swiped one from somewhere. Old habits die hard.

His beady eyes narrow at me and for the first time he opens his mouth.

“You're not going to live,” He spits out, struggling against the handcuffs. The glass partition separating us must make him feel really safe if he felt bold enough to spit threats.

He was pulled in after he tried to attack a kid with a knife in public. Thank god the situation didn't escalate as the kid’s mom was nearby.

When he was brought in, he confessed that he'd mistaken that kid as a red. That he wouldn't have tried to hurt that kid if he'd known his color. Out of all the colors, people were least intimidated by greens. I was pretty sure that one day these kids were going to prove them wrong.

“I'll take my chances, Beady.” I say, barely shaken by his words. I am not even supposed to be here. They never let us come close to the bastards who threaten us. Better protect the terrorists from the monsters.

The glass partition is probably the only reason Jessica, the division supervisor, hasn’t stormed in here and banished me to some shitty corner of the building. She does that a lot. Not that I stay there for a long time.

This jerk’s hair is long and he keeps tipping his head back to stop it from falling in his face. “You are not going to live,” He repeats, staring at me through strands of unkempt hair.

“And how are you going to kill me, beady?” I ask, leaning back and watching him with detached interest. “Come on, humor me.”

Beady’s eyes are intense with emotion. That is the look of someone who is convinced that they are on the right path. I can just imagine what he sees when he looks at me. When he looks at us.  Monsters who can burn every inch of this world and turn it into his personal hell without moving an inch.

I cock my head towards him wordlessly and let his imagination run wild. 

Maybe he would be scared enough to not to put his sick plans into motion the next time he ran into a red kid.

His name is George Ladder. 45 years old, born and raised in Washington. He used to work at a gas station before he was fired. One kid.. dead. His wife left him soon afterwards and now he found his new calling. This was not the first time he tried something though. He was seen trying to give a speech against reds a few weeks ago.