ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴀʟ

Chapter 28: Absolution

"It's your lucky day!" You called out, trotting down the basement stairs. "Guess who's getting out of the basement."

Marlon jolted up on his mattress, a beam adorning his face, "Are you for real?"

"Yep." You replied, dangling his bow and quiver from your fingers, "We'll move your stuff to the dorms later, for today, you're coming on an adventure with me." You frowned and looked away, "I say adventure: it's not. We're going to scout the old train station for some food. Aasim is coming too."

"Is that why you've got my bow?" Marlon nodded towards his beloved weapon.

"No, I was going to play the fiddle with it." You answered sarcastically. "Yes, that's why I've got your bow."

Flinging off his blanket, Marlon arose, eagerly marching up to you and retrieving the items. He oggled at them: awe-struck: gazing at them as if they had the power to save the world. His ice-blue irises slowly trailed the bow's structure, scrutinising every minute detail. His jaw hung slightly open, lips parted. His thumb delicately grazed the arch of the bow, "Thank you."

Yanking the weapon away, you glared, "If I see any of these arrowed aimed at me or anyone else here, I will kill you." You threatened, Marlon's expression fading.

"I wouldn't do that." His defence was instant, "You guys are giving me a second chance - I'm not going to betray you again."

"Better not." Extending your arms, you handed him his weapon which he immediately snatched, slinging the quiver over his shoulder and fastening the strap. "We're heading out in a minute, do you want some extra target practice or are you set?"

Examining the bow, Marlon concluded, "I'll have a few practice shots with this old thing, it's been a week since I last shot an arrow. Better safe than sorry."

Deadpanned, you agreed, "Yeah."

 Likewise to a disgruntled bodyguard, you escorted him out of the basement. The sun harshly pierced his vision, the beam of good permeating his sins, glistening viciously against his ponds of azure. Distant eyes squinted to a steely pinprick as he emerged, lasers of fury tracking each step like a tiger stalking its prey. 

Guilt swallowed Marlon into its abyss of sorrow, gaze forced to the ground. His heartstrings tugged and yearned for forgiveness, perhaps even a kind stare. But no. The damage was done, and he was facing the fallout. 

"Fuck's sake." A displeased Mitch groaned from across the courtyard, glowering at the former leader. Shoving past Ruby he claimed, "Can't believe we just let him walk free after what he did." 

"Mitch!" Ruby desperately called after him, concerned for his intentions. 

"Yeah!" Filled with admiration, Willy scurried after him, backing his every action. "That asshole doesn't deserve freedom after what he did."

The commotion attracted your attention, snapping your head towards the trio. Mitch trudged furiously, fists balled tightly and teeth grindly unhealthily. As he drew closer, he growled, "He barely took a beating from Minnie, he doesn't deserve teeth after-"

Barricading the space between him and Marlon, you firmly said, "Not today, Mitch." He was in one of those states where red shrouded his vision in a furious haze, voilence plaguing his thoughts.

"Oh, fuck you, (Y/N), why you always gotta play the hero all the time?" He peered down at you, resentment burning in his irises.

You retorted. "I wouldn't have to if people made life easy for me." 

Mitch scoffed. "Life isn't easy," he mocked, "deal with it." Over your shoulder, Marlon stood defenceless, vulnerable to Mitch's vengant wrath. Stepping to the side, he endeavoured to encroach, instantaneously halted by you.

"Not today." You sternly repeated. "I won't tell you again; you need to drop it." You commanded. 

Mitch sneered, ignoring Ruby's pleas to remain civil, "You think just because you're a leader now means you can boss everyone around like we're your pets?"

Frowning, you blinked, "Well, yeah, no shit, that's kind of the point." You added, "But no one here's my 'pet'." Enraged, Mitch shoved you, barging past and eliciting a gasp from Ruby who immediately checked on your well-being. Swiftly pivoting, you grabbed Mitch's shoulder, yanking him around. 

You saw it coming from a mile away. Mitch wasn't above punching girls, or anyone, for that matter (especially not in this state). His right fist curled into a hook, propelling towards your cheek. With an open palm, you stopped the attack, clasping his fist tightly and diverting it outward. His stance was wonky: easy to topple. Experience had taught you to fight back at any given chance; so you did. With a force, you kicked his right leg which, as a result, swung under his left, sending him to the ground with a painful thud, all air gushing from his lungs. 

Back splattered in dirt, he hissed, "You bitch."

"Dude, I told you to drop it." You shrugged, annoyed. Turning to Ruby, you said, "Please try and help him cool off, I've got enough to deal with right now." She nodded assuringly as you made your way over to Marlon who was practicing against a tree near the wall. 

His actions were monotonous, his arms repeating the same motion for the umpteenth time, each shot nearly identical. Clocking your approach, he lowered the weapon, "Thanks for that." He said. "I'm sorry, I know this is gonna be a royal pain in the ass, y'know, trying to keep people from attacking me but I hope you know I appreciate it. All I want is for you all to forgive me but... I know it won't be easy, but it'd be nice for us to just live happily ever after, I guess."

"Don't mention it." Blankly, you ignored his monologue. "I'm doing what I have to."

"You're a good person, (Y/N), a much better one than me," he claimed. "And I know I sound like a broken record but I really am so, so sorry for what I did to you. I always knew that trading you was something we couldn't come back from - that I couldn't come back from - but I still did it anyway because I thought..." he breathed, "you hadn't been with us too long, you would've been easier to let go."

You raised a brow. "Are you trying to butter me up or make me angrier?"

Marlon stammered, "I- neither, I don't think. I just wish things were easier."

His words were sincere: heartfelt. He gazed at you with a guilt-ridden countenance, eyes shamelessly begging for forgiveness. "Me too. But they're not."

After a pause, he asked, "How's Louis holding up?"

You thought. "He's... coping."

"I can't imagine how he's feeling," a furrow pressed on Marlon's brow, "he was so disappointed when he came to talk to me. He's always been there for me; trusted me, helped me, made me laugh, and this is how I repay him... I know he said he understood but I think he was just telling himself that."

"Maybe," you hummed, "but you can talk to him about that once you've been properly resettled."

Marlon nodded. "Once again, (Y/N), you're a good person. I'm glad it's you who's taken charge, I trust you with my life."

Isn't that ironic?