Septiplier One Shots

I'll Always Protect You

(Mark's P.O.V.)

When you're a criminal, the last thing you want to do is attract attention. However, sometimes it can't be helped. So, you know, one minute you'll be walking along the beach front. The next you're hiding behind a crate on the pier getting shot at and returning said shots. So a normal day.

Today is not a normal day however. I'm making my runs, wearing my standard outfit. Black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up. White suspenders, normally covered up by my dirty red and black flannel though I'm not wearing it today. Dirty jeans, black shoes. Pretty basic, if I do say so myself. Oh yeah, and the weapons I have stashed on me.

I have a gun in the waistband of my pants. A pocket knife in, well, my pocket. A knife in my hand. And I'm able to use almost anything else I see as a weapon. It comes in handy, especially if I lost my previous weapon in a fight and needed something to help kill all those pesky officers. I mean, what are they just busting into my life like that? I guess it's their job but whatever...

Right now it's a pretty average day of sneaking in back alleys and trying to get to my house without being noticed. I had to go and buy some more weapons (or steal), and so I'm trying to get to my house without the cops noticing. I'm doing pretty good, with only two blocks to go. When suddenly...

A crate starts moving. I freeze, staring at the wooden box in the corner. It moves again and I swear I hear whimpering coming from it. "What the fuck..?" I whisper, walking over to it. I try opening it, only to be unsuccessful, so I look for something to use to get it open. I find a bent piece of metal and quickly pick it up.

Using all my strength, I manage to break the seal and get the crate open. I slowly open it, a loud creak emitting from it. I wince from the noise, happy when it stops after it's open. And then I look inside the crate. I gasp, staring at what I find inside. Or more accurately, who.

It's a man, who looks to be about my age. He wears dirty and tattered clothing, way to big for him. His form is thin, and he looks fragile as chinaware. His blue eyes are filled with hope, sadness, and the ocean. His complexion is pale. His hair is messy, the brown cut short but the green on top of his head long and untamed.

I back up a bit and he slowly crawls closer to the exit of the crate. He stops once he's sitting on the lid, staring at me with wide and curious eyes.

"Can you talk?" I ask. I receive no reply. "My name's Mark. What's your name?" He whimpers a bit, looking down. And that's when I realize he has a dog tag on. I kneel down, frowning. I take the tag, looking at the words. "Seán... 109-312-5643... O Positive..." That's all that's written on it. Well, on the front. On the back is his birthday. "2/7/90". He's twenty-seven now, a year younger than me.

I drop the dog tag, letting it hang from his neck once again. He still stares up at me, with those gorgeous blue eyes. I stand up again, holding out my hand to help him up. His eyes travel down my body till he starts staring at my hand. He doesn't take it, just sits there, staring.

"Well come on. I'm taking you home." I say, getting slightly irritated. He hesitantly lifts his hand, until finally his hand rests in my palm. I pull him up roughly, maybe to roughly, seeing as he immediately stumbles forward and falls onto me. I grab him, keeping him upright as his hands go to my chest trying to balance himself. Eventually he does.

I stare at him for a minute, watching as he slowly steps back, staring at the ground. His shirt is just a little to loose, his pants just a little to baggy, his shoes just a little to big. It's obvious he's underfed, and broken. I don't know who this man is. I don't care. I just know I can't bear to see pain in those beautiful blue eyes.

"Let's go home Seán."

***

I'm broken from my thoughts by a soft whimpering, almost begging sound. I look up from my food to see Seán staring at me, a pleading look in his eyes. He seems hungry. But I put food in front of him, gave him the same thing I'm eating.