(Reverence 5, 59 / 1:02AM)

  A bck van’s tires stopped on the cobblestone pavement.

  Letting out a low screech, the rubber within the wheels scraped off against the stone. Two doors swayed open, a tall man with silver hair and a woman with gsses got out from the van, closing the doors shut while wearing tuxedo suits and church shoes.

  Walking to the back doors of the van, the tall agent put in the code to the door, and a mechanism shingled that led the doors to sway open. The woman, who barged into the back, began pushing out sinner after sinner who sat or y on the floor.

  Stan, Fred, Gary, Diego, Lorraine, Jenny, and Jumbo all rolled out of the van, nding on the cobblestone ground that squeezed the air out of their lungs. Most of their ribs were dented by the fall, Stan tilted his head up to see a rge train tinted with turquoise gold.

  (Stan’s thoughts) There it is…

  (Agent Ada) Get up, all of you!

  With a kick to the chest, Stan smmed both of his teeth shut before standing himself up with the soles of his feet. Being in front of everyone that had their wrists handcuffed, Stan started walking to the rge train that opened its metallic door for them.

  Agents lined up near the metallic doors, all wielding carbine rifles and handguns that glowed under the two waning crescent moons above. Their eyes analyzed every boot, finger, muscle, twitch, or trail of sweat that made up Stan and everybody else, Stan kept his face down while feeling the air harden. As if the air began freezing up every minuscule ounce of his skin, the hairs from his arms, legs, and back spiked up like a cat-human when it got jump-scared.

  His lungs froze from the imaginary cold, his face paled as soon as he reached the front of the prisoner compartment of the Zirardge train. Both of his feet trembling, the tranquil night couldn’t paint a dent to relieve his anxiety, leading Ada to kick the area between his right calf and right hamstring.

  (Agent Ada) I didn’t tell you to stop!

  His right knee smming onto the ground, he quickly pulled himself up, pcing both of his palms onto the metallic container that led up. The others followed suit, the darkness of the pitch-bck container began to shudder Stan’s nerves, trickling them and stinging them over and over again.

  As if he was being frozen against the darkened air, it didn’t, only because the others were too dead spiritually to feel the dampened walls cloud them.

  Slumping down onto a metal wall, his ears perked up to the hoarse groans of men and women waking up. One of those voices, a man with a warm voice that resembled that of an elder brother, spoke to him.

  (Miles) What’s going on?

  (Stan) Wait … Miles…?

  (Miles) Stan…? What the hell are you doing here?

  (Stan) I could say the same thing to you…

  Keeping his eyes down on the floor, Stan tucked both of his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs to hold them in. Hearing rustling noises to his left, sweaty palms that stuck and cmped onto the metal can be heard, but Stan didn’t budge.

  The crawling ceased, the person that did it sat down next to the elf, the man being two years older than him. His burly hands clutching themselves together, he put the bottom of his wrists onto the top of his knees, watching the early night-morning moonlight glow.

  (Miles) I see Jenny and Loraine with you guys, also Jumbo too. Was … was the adobe attacked?

  (Stan) They didn’t destroy it nor damage it … They only came to capture us, and they picked the worst time when most of the soldiers were out in town, drinking.

  (Miles) Damnit…

  Resting the back of his head onto the wall, Miles gazed up at the roof of the dark ceiling that he began to feel accustomed to. Welcoming the darkness like an old friend, the strands of his hair began to cover the top eyelids of his eyes, but he didn’t sway them away.

  Instead, he turned his eyes to the elf that curled up like a ball.

  His face pushed down, and a soft exhale of air blew out of his nostrils, drying his upper lip with his CO2.

  (Miles) How did things turn this way … what did we do that caused us to end up in the back of a train … miles from home?

  Gncing to his left, Miles noticed many eyes staring at him from afar, all of them being the Dark Angels that woke up with soulless stares. One woman, a tanned beauty with botches of pink ruining her leather jacket, had her eyes down while curling herself up like Stan.

  Her fight with Kenichi, her encounters with Kenichi, her very spirit and soul were driven back to how she acted as a pushover in her teenage years.

  (Luna) We didn’t do anything, we were just accused as sinners and we’re now unfreed.

  (Miles) I thought you would be asleep.

  (Luna) I’m too tired to argue … I’m gone… far gone … I’m a shell…

  Her fingers jabbed themselves into her shins, and her strength dwindled and weakened the more she pushed her nails inward. Letting the corners of her eyes snt into the top of her nose, her gre only bestowed onto the metal that caged her in like a wild animal; an animal that lost its feral nature.

  On the verge of tears, a soft hand was pced on her knee.

  Her entire body loosened from her touch, she looked toward a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Loosening her fingers, her palms remained on her legs while she looked at the woman tearfully.

  (Hope) We all are shells…

  Luna moved her knee away from her hand, causing Hope’s hand to softly drop onto the metal floor that shriveled her skin. Her voice calm and silent as a mouse, she rubbed her fingers against one another while looking up at the ceiling.

  The same as Miles, she tried to push up a smile, but her cheeks loosened shortly.

  (Hope) I don’t know what happened to Luke… or Christian and his siblings. I just … I just hope that Chris isn’t—

  (Jack) You can’t make it far with a javelin wound to your stomach.

  Sitting in a dark corner away from everyone, Jack spread both of his legs and feet wide, along with his hands resting themselves on the floor. His eyes got the attention of Hope, the Dark Angels, and Stan and the sinners that followed, his voice was the only thing that people could tell he was there.

  Not a speck of light was shone on his face, making him seem invisible in the shadows. Clutching his hands tightly, his bones began colliding against one another, leading him to tap his right foot.

  (Jack) I’ve seen wounds like those. I don’t want to believe it, but there’s no way that Chris is surviving that…

  (Hope) But we could—

  (Benn) Jack’s right.

  In front of Hope, the withdrawn shark-human finally spoke out in a meek voice, his throat quivering and shaking his vocals.

  His knees tucked in, he pced his elbows onto the sharp edges of his kneecaps, his fingers drooping down low while his body shook repeatedly. Purple bruises pstered onto his face, it looked as if he was struck by a wooden baseball bat, repeatedly and cruelly.

  His cheeks swollen and goopy, everyone turned their eyes away from the pungent dispy that awaited Benn, a dispy of true punishment amongst true discrimination.

  (Benn) Chris is already dead.

  A pair of boots pushed out from the metallic floor.

  Tilting his head up to the elf with ginger hair, the elf’s boots stomped the floor, shaking the dusted metal off its fresh hinges. Hovering over the shark-human, Benn had his eyes pushed down amidst the red-strained eyes that chained Sean.

  Despite his face red, his hands were rexed, the tips of his fingers tapping his thigh softly like following the melody of a song.

  (Sean) How do you know he died huh…?

  (Benn) The tip of it came through the other end of his body.

  (Sean) You didn’t see it—

  (Hope) It's ok Sean…

  Like a defted balloon, Sean scrunched up his eyes, raising his hands to pce the bottom of his palms directly onto his lower eyelids. Keeping them in pce, Sean loosened his shoulders, allowing a good chunk of air to plow through both his dried mouth and nostrils.

  Unwilling to look at Hope, she clenched up her hand that tried to nurture Luna.

  (Hope) But please don’t fight, not another brawl…

  His throat quivering, his lower body trembling, Sean turned his body towards where he sat, letting his butt crash onto the metallic floor.

  Tears barely held onto the edges of his eyelids, both of his palms rested against the cold metal floor, while his way hair swayed down to his right temple. Unable to look at anybody, especially at Hope, he looked to the open metallic container that bestowed them the soft moonlight.

  Until the metal door slowly began to close.

  Their heads stared at the door that began closing at a snail’s pce, all of them didn’t have the strength to run or stand. Every second that the door closed off the outside, the more their spirit scraped off against their soul.

  Hope, Jack, Luna, Benn, Sean, Miles, Stan, Gary, Fred, Diego, Loraine, Jenny, and even the starry-eyed Jumbo; all watched as a man stood in front of the closing door—no…

  Two men.

  A chubby man wearing a thin jacket, and a below-average-height man wearing a tuxedo, both stared at every one of them. The chubby man saw them off with a grin, the other had cold eyes that put most of them deep into the dark shadow that avoided his stare.

  (Hope’s thoughts) Save us … Luke …

  Finally, the door to the outside closed in front of them, leaving them in the darkest pitch of bck that even nothing couldn’t compare.

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  (Reverence 5, 59 / 9:32AM)

  A man wearing a cowboy hat looked up at the ceiling.

  The hat covering his face, and his bck leather jacket bnketed him while he slept. Both of his hands rested on the cushions that he sat on, his head tilted up while spreading his feet and legs apart.

  Laying near his side, a dark purple-haired woman id her back on the couch, her breathing softening under each inhale she swept into her lungs. Her eyes closed, and her tranquil sleep silenced the old living room, with only the sound of a grandfather clock ticking down.

  But the swaying of the backyard door slowly opened their eyes.

  Ceasing his silent snoring, David raised his hand to take off the hat that covered his face, turning his head in the direction of a man and woman casting their eyes downward. While Iris continued to sleep, David softly pushed himself off the couch, the cushion returning to its original form.

  Walking to the two of them, David put his hands restful to his sides, his thumbs resting on his knuckles.

  (David) You two ok?

  (Christian) Yeah…

  David began rubbing his own knuckles with his thumbs, cleaving off patches of dry skin that stuck to him like glue. Letting it fall down onto the wooden floor, it looked like small tiny droplets of snowfkes gzing in the morning sun.

  Keeping his eyes on Christian, David’s eyes pushed down, followed by a long exhale of air drawn out of his mouth.

  (David) Things happen fast. That’s how most battles or wars are.

  (Christian) Is it?

  (David) Take it from me. You meet a nice soldier you could rely on and the next day half his brains would be shot out.

  Christian turned to look at the backyard, seeing a corpse covered by a body bag sketched in bck.

  Unable to see the inside of the bag, Christian’s eyes were still reddened from hours prior, leading him to use his sleeve to sy away tears that built up from his lower eyelids. Tainting his outdoor brown jacket, he cleared his throat, straightening his back while turning his attention back to David.

  While Pacifica stared at the ground, her eyes clouded in dark eyebags that swelled and swallowed her skin. Her scleras were painted to just pure white, not a strand of red popped out.

  (Christian) But he wasn’t shot. It wasn’t a gunshot … that Zirardge girl stabbed him through the stomach.

  By just muttering ‘Zirardge girl,’ all of her nails stabbed themselves straight into her palm, blood streaming out like a rapid river. Her hands and arms shook, and her eyes widened everymore while staring deep into the wooden crack along the living room floor.

  An anger so putrid, that even David took a step back from the dark-complected woman.

  As Christian’s fingers began to twitch, he found himself clenching both of his teeth, groaning in a low pitch while averting his eyes away.

  (Christian) It’s just like what happened to Manny…

  (David) That wasn’t your fault son—

  (Christian) Then whose fault is it!?

  But frustration so pungent jumped out of his own slim body.

  Blowing away the anger that radiated from Pacifica, her body twitched and looked up at her brother with tear-filled eyes. Releasing her curled-up fingers, she let them drop to her thighs, as the blood that escaped from her palms trailed to the tip of her nails.

  Yet his frustration was unable to shock David, his body still standing firm.

  (Christian) Tell me who's at fault!? Who's responsible for these hellish past couple of days!? Is it Sean!? Luke!? Me!? It always …

  Christian scrunched up his eyes, his nose wrinkling up as the water that he tried controlling only released one or two teardrops, releasing them from his lower eyelids. Like a dam overflowing, Christian couldn’t look up to David’s cold eyes that watched him weep.

  (Christian) … Always takes two to tango … That’s what Gabriel used to say to you … right?

  Bringing his hand up to the top of his hat, David let his fingers jab into the khaki-colored leather. Taking his hat off of his head, some strands of his hair grazed the top of his long eyeshes, nudging his head back to let the hair be drawn to his temples.

  Lowering the hand that held his hat down to his thigh, he used his other hand to pce it on Christian’s shoulder. His fingers loose, the ends of his fingers didn’t put enough pressure for Christian to yelp or gulp, but …

  He did look up at the pushed-down face.

  (David) Yes … I remember all those old sayings. Every quote came out of his mouth as if he tried to be the next Tremblearrow.

  (Iris) Gabriel…

  A middle-aged woman poked her head out of the couch, her eyes low and circled with dark eye bags.

  Both of her hands barely held her upper body, her throat reddened with a tint of purple that had been inflicted by her a day prior. Gazing up at David, she softly bit her lower lip, her throat quivering relentlessly while pushing whatever words bounded by her vocals.

  (Iris) Oh, how much simpler times were… back in those days…

  (David) Yeah … and now look at us… unable to even defend against a couple of agents.

  Despite her legs feeling like a colony of fire ants biting rapidly on the inside of her calves and feet, she pced the bottoms of her heels onto the floor, before standing herself up. Her whole body lunging forward, she steadied herself, walking to the cowboy hat-wearing man who had his hands motionless to his sides.

  Seeing her standing in front of him, David turned his eyes solely onto the middle-aged woman, her dark purple hair glowing from the windows next to them. While Christian and Pacifica tilted their heads straight at Iris, they both hovered their hands over their crotches, formally clutching their hands.

  (Iris) Why would Gabriel ditch us… leave us to be some government dog. What did he see…?

  (David) That’s what I want to find out … but that’s second to what happened to Kenichi…

  Iris began to remember all the fond memories of both Kenichi and Gabriel, remembering those young faces that caused frustration, anger, and a slight bastion of happiness. Warmly looking down at the ground, she remembered Kenichi’s wry smile, Gabriel’s obnoxious ugh…

  From when she kicked Gabriel in the nuts, the day before he went off to fight in the demi-human skirmishes.

  From when she st sparred with Kenichi, the st time that she ever saw him.

  And when she witnessed her sister’s childish love for the man she saw a future in.

  (Iris’s thoughts) I wasn’t honest with myself … I wasn’t honest with him…

  Letting her hand hover over her wounded stomach, her fingers barely grazed the tip of the white cloth. Wanting to clutch her stomach, wanting to scratch and cleave off whatever skin off of her wounded region, she couldn’t…

  Her fingers trembling violently, she only gred down at the wooden floor.

  (Iris’s thoughts) But Jenny was…

  A single knock shook the wooden door.

  The same as before, the four of them pulled out their weapons from their holsters. David wielding his pistol, Christian wielding his Thompson, Iris showcasing her spiked rolling pin, and Pacifica dispying her balled fists; all of them glued their feet to the floor.

  Using his right hand to wield his pistol, David silently trailed the wood with his mouse-like footsteps, his boots not letting a single-digit decibel form emit.

  Reaching the handle of the wooden door, he let his left hand grab the metal, his fingers wrapping themselves tightly without staining it in water. Pushing his thumb down, the handle lowered, churning the door to sway open to reveal the person…

  (David) No way…

  In unison, everyone lowered their hands down to their sides, with Christian and Pacifica letting their jaws drop. Still gripping their weapons, their fingers vastly loosened themselves with the metal, as a young man with purple eye bags around his eyes only stared at the cowboy hat man in front of him.

  The man, being young, had light brown hair and red eyes.

  (Luke) I need … I need to speak to the Pacithiest Boss sir…