Never Forever

Chapter Twenty-Five

((Dedicated to No One, because I have No One to dedicate it to. You rock, No One!))

Chapter Twenty-Five

We silently walk the streets of New York City, our shoes barely making a sound against the cement sidewalks. I made sure to teleport us away from the yellow paint covered area as soon as we had exited the San Remo hotel. Now, we're at the edge of Central Park, 5th Avenue at our feet, and possible death as our fate.

How are we going to survive this?

Beats me, Baxter replied to my thought, glancing around to see if there's any movement. We're just gonna have to do our best.

Yeah, I agree solemnly, a feeling of foreboding spreading through my chest and darkening my mood. I contiue to trudge across the pavement slowly, my mood low and unable to be brightened. Why am I so upset at the moment? I think to myself. It's gotta be everything that's been happening in this past week.

Um... why are you asking me? Baxter's voice ripples through my thoughts, confused. Oh... I completely forgot that all my thoughts could be read by him, not just the one's that aren't private. I better keep my thoughts to myself...

Nevermind, I wasn't asking you, I continue, and before Baxter is able to reply I hear a gun go off. A paintball wizzes past my arm, barely centimeters away, and hits a telephone pole, the blue pellet separating into a splatter of color that drips down onto the sidewalk.

Baxter and I only have a seconds worth of eye contact before we duck behind a parked taxi, peeking over the window to see two people stalking towards us. Another paintball zips right over Baxter's head this time, finding it's mark on the wall of a nearby building. Red paint speckles the brickwork, with an appearance hauntingly similar to blood.

That's not creepy at all, Baxter's voice speaks into my head again.

Yeah, well guess what? We've got two people coming at us with no escape. Let's try and shoot them before they shoot us.

Or, Baxter replies, a smirk rising to his lips. We could just teleport out of here.

I roll my eyes at him. You know you won't personally have that virtue during an actual battle. Plus, my teleportation is wearing down a bit after using it so much. We might as well just try to fight our way out of this.

Whatever you say, Mope, Baxter sighs, rolling his eyes and grabbing a grenade and taking out the pin. The two figures are getting closer, and they're almost upon us when suddenly even more shots ring through the air, three paintballs splashing to the ground near the wheels of the taxi in front of us. The two figures turn around, and that was their mistake. I stand up and shoot them without a moment of hesitation.

The green paintball hits the woman in front of me square in the back, and she yelps in surprise. Her companion jumps to the side when another paintball from my gun nearly hits his leg, turning around too late. Before he can raise his gun up to me I shoot him in the chest, directly over his heart. He clutches his shirt desperately, the purple liquid oozing between his fingers and dribbling down to the black pavement in various drops. My heart suddenly dropped down to my stomach when I see the look on his face.

It's absolute despair.

I, for one, would know what that feels like. My parents. The memory hits me right in the gut, more powerful than any paintball that might be shot at me. More honed than the sharpest blade. Suddenly, I'm seeing myself looking through flames and smoke, rising above dark treetops. A dilapidated house. A dead family.