Rebel Red Hope

4

     Looking out the window once again with a stolen blanket from downstairs draped around my shoulders, my mind wanders a bit. Something feels different. Almost. Hopeful. A small smile plays on my lips while running my thumb over the FPE sip in my hand, almost in an attempt to remind myself that it's real, the yellow bandana still securely on my arm. A reminder that the Banditos are coming back eventually. About a week has passed since breaking from the transmissions of Dema and the Bishops once again, but in the time I had been back under the bishop's control, I had lost almost the entire year, or at least 8 months, but close enough. 

     The view outside the window wasn't as brightly dull as it was in the summer months. Now, there was snow as it is now winter and is much darker and somehow even more deathly silent than any other season. The grey of the city was still such a sickeningly dull shade of grey, but the snow made it worse.

     having had enough of it, I pull the curtains down over the window and turn back into my room while dropping the blanket and grabbing the green jacket from my bed, and putting it on, but pause. It was colder now, so layers would help, so, turning to the dresser and pulling out a grey hoody and an extra pair of pants that felt acceptable to dress in before putting my jacket back on, fixing the bandana under my sleeve so the tail of the knot falls into my palm, and grabbing my things started to feel normal again. Until something in my doorway makes me jump. The shadow was back. It stared at me as my vision warped and my mind becomes overwhelmed, flooding with thoughts of the Ceremonies of the Glorified I've seen years prior, its glowing grin pressing itself behind my eyes. My mind flooded and started to spill, so I grabbed onto the bandana, pushing up my sleeve to get to it, and looked at it, and the thoughts and memories and that grin fade from my mind. Collapsing to the ground to catch my breath, it speaks to me for the first time,

     "That will be you soon" it snarls with a rather pleased tone dripping from its tongue before it fizzes out of existence, leaving me to gather myself on the floor of my cold cinderblock and cement room clutching onto the bandana.

~~~

     Finally able to stand again, yet still mentally fucked, the first thought to cross my mind was the memory of the smoke plums from summer I managed to catch a glimpse of just over the perimeter wall. They would be more visible now that it's cold outside. 

     With a smile on my face, my excitement and curiosity put a bit of pep I'm my step while grabbing my bag and jacket, only pausing to pin my FPE slip- no, badge- onto my jacket before walking out my room door. A sigh of relief escapes my lips stepping out of that room while slipping on my gloves. They may be fingerless, but what else are pockets for except to carry small things and keep your hands warm and out of sight?

     Stepping outside, the air was a lot colder than any other time of the year, and much darker too. The cold hurt my lungs with every breath and my face was almost numb already. The dark, ash-like snow crunches under my feet while walking to the rooftop to see the smoke again. It takes me a bit to find the right building while avoiding everyone, but upon arriving, I sprint to the top and swing open the door.

     To my surprise, there was someone else on the ledge of the roof with two vultures just visible in the dim lighting of winter. Trying not to disturb the person or the vultures, I try to walk quietly over the snow, hoping it would do its job to cover the sound, but the person turns around and my feet freeze as my eyes adjust and quickly realize who it is. It's him. The familiar man. 

     He turns his head to meet my gaze before turning back to see the landscape beyond the neon. Frozen in place, my legs only move once he pats the snow on the ledge next to him, gesturing for me to join him, and I do. Upon approaching him, I start to realize some things. His jacket and yellow tape are gone and replaced with a black button-down shirt. I knew what it meant. But pinned to his shirt was an FPE badge like mine. Brushing the almost warm snow off the ledge and sitting, it takes everything in me not to talk about the banditos around the vultures. We both sat there in silence for a bit before I break it,