A/N: We finished writing the story (YAY) and now updates are going to be about every 3 days!
Angel hated it. Hated himself as his arms involuntarily whipped out guns and started shooting as his friends. Hated the panic in Husk's eyes as he flew away and the sympathy in Cherri's as she ran away with Niffty. The confusion in Sir Pentious' and the angels. But more than anything, the fear in Molly's.
He had seen his sister for the first time in decades and within 2 minutes, he's shooting at her. While a small part of him repeated over and over again that it wasn't his fault, that it was Valentino, watching with a slowly growing smile, who was controlling his every bodily movement, guilt still threatened to drown him.
This had happened before, more times than he could count. Disassociate, he commanded himself, willing himself to just not be in his body anymore. Not have to feel the cannibals' screams as they were brutally slaughtered. Dimly, he watched himself slash and dodge and turn and jump in ways that he didn't even know he could do. Another thing about Val controlling his body was that he was pushed to limits, limits that left him sometimes almost completely immobile later.
His ears began ringing as his body unwillingly approached Molly, raising his guns. Pain shot through his legs as Val made him walk normally on the leg he had injured while jumping off the railing. No, no, no! Not this, not this, anything but this.
At that moment, Angel wished he was stronger. He wished he was strong enough to break from Valentino's hold and not hurt anyone. But even as tears spilled out of his eyes and the battle around him seemed to slow down cartoonically, his fingers still pressed down on the trigger.
Suddenly, the battle seemed to sharpen, and it felt like Angel was thrust back into his body. With a glance at Valentino and the anticipation on his face, he felt sick. He was just a puppet now, having to feel every second as he pulled on the trigger more and more...
"RUN!" Angel screamed, temporarily regaining control of his body, shaking as he fought to keep in place long enough for Molly to run away, break from the frozen shock she was in. But she didn't move fast enough and her screams echoed in Angel's ears. From the corner of his eyesight, he could see her pressing a trembling hand to her side, a hand that came out gold and bloody.
No...
Without him even having to will himself to, his consciousness faded until everything was subtle, barely playing on his senses. It was selfish to stand back and not even try to fight back, but he didn't want to. He was just so tired.
But his mind wouldn't let him rest. Images began popping up in his head and Angel tried to make them go away, but something about the situation made it impossible to.
Being read bedtime stories after being dragged to bed.
Him, Molly and Arackniss staying up until midnight and passing out, surrounded by candy wrappers. The next day, they had stomach aches.
Him holding his mom's hand as she lay on her deathbed, promising her that he'd protect Molly.
Molly doing the same.
Later that day, her last breath had left her lips.
His dad drowning in grief and turning into a different man, crueler.
Him at 7 years, being shown how to load and shoot a gun.
His first time killing someone, a man who was about to attack Arackniss.
Him and Molly sparring as their dad watched from the side, nodding approvingly.
Arackniss snapping for the first time and attacking him with a knife. Their dad said nothing.
