A Work of Art

Meet Your Heroes

"Welcome back."

Reikas' stomach churned. There's no way he wasn't hallucinating. He killed her. He watched her bleed out and looted her body like a nameless, emotionless highway bandit. She was gone.

And yet, there Seraphim stood, with a hateful scorn.

"Empty your pockets. Now."

He obliged, quickly emptying his pockets and throwing his hoodie off, revealing a plain blue t-shirt. The already cracked smartphone and lion mask fell to the ground. Reikas' eyes refused to leave the woman, fixed at her abdomen, morbidly curious at how she was still breathing, much less able to walk. Seraphim's gaze met his, smirking. "System-Agnostic Failsafe Engine. Zombie wires. Whatever you wanna call it. Hell of a lot to install, but God I'm glad I sprung for it," she said, answering the unspoken question. "And before I bash your fucking brains in, you're gonna help pay for a replacement. Let's see what you got to your name."

Seraphim reached down, grabbing Reikas' phone. A small current from her index finger was enough to jolt it to life, bypassing the lock screen. Reikas began to walk towards the dealer to grab it, but a rough yank backwards by Carmine was enough to get the message across. On the phone was an old text message exchange between Reikas and Eden. Seraphim exhaled through her nose as she scrolled through the two's messages. "You two lovers or somethin'?"

Forcing himself to focus, Reikas took a deep breath. "Uh... n-no? Maybe... I don't know. It depends on-" He cut himself off when he saw Seraphim's expression shift. Her eyes grew wide, the cocky smile disappeared in exchange for a look of disbelief.

"You're fucking joking. There's no way. Are you... Reikas? The Reikas?"

He gulped. Now was probably not the time to showboat and act like his usual, borderline narcissistic self. But on the other hand, she clearly knew him. Maybe Seraphim knew his work too? Besides, he's already screwed. Adding more onto the pile wasn't gonna hurt.

"The uh, the one and only."

"Holy shit." Her face contorted, shifting between a wide smile and an attempt to maintain her stone cold appearance. "I'm a huge fan, you have no idea," Seraphim gushed.

"Thank... you? I mean, w-who isn't?" Reikas mumbled, running his right hand through his sweat drenched hair. He let out a small gasp as it was forced into an enthusiastic handshake.

"You've been such an inspiration. I mean, I wanted to be a singer, but I gave up on that. But then you come along and... you do what I wished I could do. Just do what you want. And that graffiti with the stick figures, ugh, so good. A stellar critique on the art world praising meaningless but "well drawn" pieces compared to one's with soul, the whole point of..."

As she ranted, Reikas gave his fan a quick inspection. The styled pink hair must've taken hours to perfect, or at least cost a fortune to get done. It was a stark contrast to the punk aesthetic the leather jacket and combat boots gave off. Her dark skin made her blue eyes that much more vibrant, full of life as she spoke. Honestly, she had the charisma for the limelight. Which left Reikas with a question.

"Why don't you try singing professionally then?"

Seraphim stopped mid-rant. She stared blankly at Reikas, a suffocating silence filling the air. Her grip tightened painfully, not letting her idol's hand escape. "Because it's expensive. And you just set me back in the hole God knows how much. And you know the worst part? It wasn't the shooting. It wasn't the stealing. It's not even you leaving me for dead. ...It was the comment about my design."

"The... the redesign comment? I'm sorry, I-"

"Shut the FUCK up." Reikas' bones felt like they were being crushed. "You know how long I worked on this? I went through so many ideas before this one, and I was so fucking proud of it. And then my inspiration, my god damn HERO, tells me I need a redesign. And that electricity was a necessity rather than a style choice, so- y'know what, I don't need to explain shit to you."

The sounds of electricity and Reikas' screams of agony almost drowned out the cracking of bones in his hand. Desperately, he tried to pull away, but Seraphim didn't budge an inch. Her eyes were laser focused on his contortions of agony. "I don't need a redesign. I don't! I... you don't know shit about me!" Seraphim's voice rose, only barely able to contain her rage.

Reikas barely managed to breathe in between sobs and cries. The excruciating pain of every little part of his hand breaking and burning was unbearable. And yet, the only words bawled out between each agonizing breath was "I'm sorry". He couldn't ask for her to stop. Even if she would listen, he knew he didn't deserve it. This was his just desserts. His comeuppance. He shot her and left her for dead. Surely, he deserved no better.

After an eternity of hell, Seraphim released her grip. Reikas took a deep breath, only just managing to stay awake. His grip on consciousness was almost released when he felt the metallic implants in her fists collide with his already weak arm bones, shattering them. He fell to his knees with shallow, shaky breaths. Seraphim reeled back for another punch, but stopped herself. Her eyes were full of tears, only seconds away from bursting.

"I wanna kill you. I really do. But I just... can't. Fuck, why did you have to be Reikas and make this hard for me? Why did you have to do any of this? I looked up to you! And now I... I..." Seraphim stared at the bloody mess of an artist, both quivering with tears. Without another word, she sprinted past the pathetic sight on the ground, weeping openly. The last thing Reikas experienced before unconsciousness took hold was Carmine spitting at him, and the bell ringing.

"...there's your redesign, asshole."