Self Destructing Messenger

#22 - The Cutest Terrorist

Back at Pyro's apartment there was chaos but not over the obvious. The body of the man who had suffered from the worst headache ever was gone. No gore. No waiting police. Nothing. The group didn't question this out loud, attributing it to government cover up much like what had gone down months ago in Broken Hill.

For the moment it made life easier but it was assumed that at some point, the FBI or whatever they called themselves would get tired of their men being killed and/or beat.

A problem for tomorrow. Azalea leaned back on the couch watching the Man in Black cross back and forth. He would carry in a box or crate, bin or trash bag full of miscellaneous items, drop it off in the living area and then head back out the door to retrieve more things.

Pyro was doing his best to stay calm but he was clearly at his tipping point. He strode over and sat on the edge of the couch a ways from Azalea, elbows on his knees, hands wringing. "I want to help you, really I do," Pyro began.

Azalea interrupted. "And I appreciate that. Especially in light of me waving a sword in your face."

"Already forgiven but I don't know if I can handle that guy staying in my apartment." The crimson crusader hesitated before adding quietly, "He's a whack job, Azalea."

"No kidding," she laughed. "He won't hurt you. I won't let him. He's pretty innocent for the most part. Like a child..."

"A child with a chainsaw," Pyro added. "And lots of other stuff too. I don't know that my apartment can hold it all."

She smiled, the expression mischievous. "He doesn't have stuff. I've been watching him, wondering where he's getting these things. You might have some angry neighbors come by later."

He looked at her, waiting for the punchline to the joke but there was none. "Really?" He jumped up, blocking the Man in Black's path as he returned with another load. "No," he said shortly as if chastising a small child or dog. "No, you take that back where you found it."

Gia stood nearby, fussing with the TV remote. Every channel was static and yet she continued hitting the buttons about twenty channels longer than was needed to realize the obvious. The cable was out. She threw down the remote, deciding the bickering between Pyro and the Man in Black was far more interesting anyway.

"So he just now figured it out," Gia said.

"Yep," Azalea replied.

"It's been like... a half hour."

"Yep."

"Cayce is taking forever."

Azalea turned on the couch to gaze at the door Cayce had disappeared behind earlier. "He is," she said. "I don't know. Maybe he's trying to piece himself together. I mean, how many times have you been killed this year? Its probably traumatizing."

Concern lit up the teen's face. "He'll be okay, right?"

It hadn't been her intention to exacerbate Gia's natural state of anxiety but Azalea had done it. The blonde reached over and pulled the young girl down on the seat next to her and gave her a quick, awkward, sideways hug. "He will most definitely be okay. Assuming s@#$ keeps piling up like it has been, we'll all be broken and Cayce will still be there, holding us together."

Gia sorted through the statement. Comforting and horrifying in equal measure so she settled somewhere in between. "You are really horrible at giving pep talks."

"Duh," Azalea said. "That's why we have Cayce." She pushed off the couch. "I'll check on him, if it makes you feel any better."

The teen nodded and Azalea crossed the apartment to the narrow hallway that led to Pyro's room and the only bath. She thought about how dumb the layout was as she knocked on the door. "Cayce, does it really take that long to wash off the stench of death?" Really, guests would have to go through the person's bedroom to access the toilet. Invasion of privacy, much? At least it wasn't her privacy.