Black lightning patterns crawled underneath Stitches skin. He lifted his arms and turned to examine the rest of his body. The number of burns had nearly doubled aside from his hands which were still a dark purplish color. The insignia of his family had been covered and muddled by a new one branching from his heart.
“Shit…” he muttered, “and after all the BS to get it.”
He left the restroom, tugging on a light shirt, before opening the fridge for something to drink. Saul mixed together a shake nearby, a half empty duffel hanging from his shoulder. His eyes looked tired. The entire atmosphere of the living room was a tense quiet.
“Where ya goin?”
“Huh?” Saul looked up from his shake, “Oh… I feel a bit better today, I think I’ll try the weight room they got here,” he quickly chugged the shake and set the glass on the counter, “Maybe it’ll take the edge off…”
The groups faces were downtrodden and still recovering from the ordeal two days ago. They’d more than satisfied their work quota for the week but found themselves weighed down by their recovering wounds as well as their recovering minds.
Witch slumped about the couch, occasionally polishing her new sword or attempting to strengthen her resistance to dark recoil. She’d let out a frustrated groan before storming back to her bed holding her stomach. Her antennae were allowed to flow freely from her hood but she still revealed nothing else.
Angel silently read some books she’d brought from home. They looked well-worn and were quickly through before she tired from the monotony to play solitaire or bug someone to play a card game with her. Witch coldly ignored her, Saul had been bedridden since he walked through the door, but Stitches would sometimes take a break from cleaning ash from his gear to entertain her for a while.
His pistol set taken apart on the table next to some spray oil, a used tube of grease and dirty cleaning tools. The ash managed to penetrate very far into the guns more intricate parts and cleaning it with slow moving, numb fingers became quite an ordeal. As his temper built up Stitches would eventually break the silence with a wide spectrum of curse words before leaving the room to cool off.
Stitches scratched some ash off of his head; even after 3 showers, the particles clung to his scalp firmly. His growing hair began to frizz and tangle making it even harder to remove.
“Hey we haven’t celebrated our first outing yet have we?” Stitches put on a friendly grin.
“Celebrated?” Saul rubbed his neck confused.
Angel perked up from a game of solitaire to listen.
“You know. We completed our first assignment as a group, so we should celebrate, right?”
“Yes!” Angel chimed in with a smile.
“So what are we doing?” Saul asked.
“Let’s hit a bar!” Stitches exclaimed.
“That’s illegal!” Angel deadpanned.
Witch said nothing but observed silently.
“Not like they care here right?” Stitches shrugged.
“I’ve never drank before…” Saul scratched some ash out of his hair.
Saul put an arm over his shoulder, “Seems we gotta introduce ya, huh?” he waved to Witch, “Us more experienced with the underground gotta fulfil our role as your bad influence, aint that right Witchy?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Witch coldly replied, “What do we have to celebrate from that mess?”
Stitches sighed and leaned onto the counter, a serious look in his eyes, “Seems like you owe me, breaking my nose and all…”
Witch crossed her arms, “I thought I was being carried off, you can’t blame me for being disoriented.”
Stitches said nothing and raised an eyebrow.
“Ugh! Fine!” Witch turned away, “But don’t call me ‘Witchy’ ever again.”
“Deal!” Stitches grinned.
The sun began to set on the dimming horizon. Light threaded its way through the bits of dust and sand that whipped through the air. In the distance, the sounds of power tools worked tirelessly against the ransacked compound.
The JKL section was almost devoid of people; the buildings that still functioned nailed up tarps and cardboard to the windows and doorways to keep the looming storm away. L16 was a messy looking clothing store. Old mannequins stared out from behind large windows that had long since shattered. The door between, draped over with a canvas, seeped the silenced notes of a bittersweet country song.
The gang passed through the curtain removing their ash caked robes and tossing them to a meager pile by the entrance. The bar was mostly empty save for a couple older looking metamorphs who kept to themselves. They sat in silence staring away towards nothing in particular, occasionally they would mumble something to each other or sip the straw-colored whisky sitting in front of them.
A warm golden light filled the bars wooden interior. The scrap chairs and tables sat underneath odd metal equipment hung as trophies. The jukebox in the corner began to stutter and a lanky barkeeper kicked it to get it back on track.
He was a metamorph with silky red threads growing from his skin and head. They flowed expressively in the air as he busied himself with empty glasses. He turned to give a welcoming smile full of red tinted teeth.
They found a table made of twisted bits of rebar welded together with metal trays. A round of bottles were brought to them by the barkeeper who thanked them for their patronage before returning to his work.
Stitches smiled and cracked the cap open on the edge of the table. The others followed his lead except Angel who was having a bit of trouble. While Stitches instructed her on how to do it, Witch and Saul had a taste of the beer. Saul coughed a bit at the sour taste of the ale while Witch held her twitching eyes still to save face.
Angel was delighted as the cap finally gave way. She wiped the foam from her hands and took a sip, “Bleh… Its so bitter!” her lip wiggled.
Stitches laughed, “You get used to the taste eventually,” he took a swig then sucked his teeth, “Wow that’s actually pretty rough, they must brew their own booze.”
Saul eager to show some spirit, took a hearty gulp, “A connoisseur would call that rustic!”
Witch pulled her handkerchief down a tad and took another swig before pulling it back up, “Acting tough, you almost choked on it 10 seconds ago.”
“The more you drink the better it tastes,” Stitches held his bottle up towards the center.
“Cheers!” the group clacked the bottles together before tipping the bottoms up.
The sun that painted the sky soon dove under the horizon. The stars and moon tried their hardest to shine through the ash storm but failed. The wind picked up and slowed as time passed, never stopping its assault on the compound’s streets.
Inside, the bottles on the table multiplied and the gang’s jovial laughter had overpowered the stuttering jukebox.
Saul finished a dull bottle and slammed it to the table with a satisfied “Ahh!” he belched and tapped his chest with his knuckles, “Man I haven’t had good times with friends in such a long time,” he sighed, his eyes watering, “I’m so happy to have met you all.”
Witch scoffed annoyed and placed a finger to his shoulder leaning over the table, “You annoy me with your constant posturing, I’ve seen how you shake.”
Saul patted her head unphased, “You’re so scary but I can tell you just want a friend too,” his lower hands wrapped her palm, “Thank you for having my back,” he gave a heartfelt smile.
“Geh…” Witch taken aback by his sentimentality, pulled away and tugged her hood down, “Y-you… going to cry again?” she looked away.
Stitches snickered at the odd scene in front of him, “Guess we know you’re an ‘I love you’ drunk,” he sneered at Witch, “and you’re not normally this mean spirited.”
Witch crossed her arms, “What about you then? You cried too.”
“Guess I hold my alcohol better,” he had swig keeping his eyes on her, “That face you gave me was pretty ferocious…”
Witch looked down and rubbed her hands, “…I’m sorry.”
“Huh? About busting my nose or the ear?”
“Well…” she quickly snapped back to her attitude, “I thought we lost, you should thank me for still fighting back at deaths door,” she pointed to Angel, “she fixed you anyway so what does it matter?”
Angel quietly observing was snapped back to reality, “Oh! I was impressed by how much damage you did; a lesser surgeon would’ve never been able to repair such destruction!” she took an elegant sip from the bottle, her half smile quite unlike her normal emotive spirit.
“Are you even effected by alcohol?” Stitches asked, perplexed by her neutral look.
Angel tapped the side of her cheek, “I think so. I’m sure the ethanol is circulating in my blood at the moment.”
“When did you start talking so smart Angel?” Saul asked leaning onto the table.
“Hmm? Have I been talking differently?” she held her hands together, “I suppose my parents taught me proper diction as well as many other things.”
“Are they the ones who taught you medicine and stuff?” Saul patted his shoulders, “I can’t believe you were able to heal me so quickly!”
“Well, chipped bones and contusions are quite easy to mend I assure you,” she smiled coolly.
Stitches gave him a friendly slug to the arm, “You’re a tough one, no kidding.”
Saul smiled, blushing slightly, “Thanks.”
“Ugh! Why are you so lovey dovey with each other, its gross,” Witch sunk in her chair.
Stitches snickered, “You’re pretty mean despite being so shy,” he teased.
“I’m not-!” Witch cooled her tone and tugged at her hood, “I’m not shy.”
Stitches sneered, “Prove it then, show us your face.”
Saul held the bottle rocking it in his hands, his curious eyes affixed to Witch.
Angel quickly leaned over to get a better look, an excited grin spreading across her lips.
“Fine,” Witch looked about the bar and tapped her fingers together, “It’s not that big a deal…” she took a breath and pulled away her coverings with a defiant look, “S-see?
Witch’s grey cheeks already red with the alcohol turned even redder as her messy hair tumbled over her ears. Her antennae flicked at the air and slowed as she forced them still. Dark colored mandibles sat affixed from the sides of her jaw, their points resting at the corners of her black lips. Segmented palps anchored underneath her cheekbones and jaw, folded neatly towards her lips as well. Her green eyes avoiding their gazes shined an even brighter shade of emerald in the lights above them. Her thick eyebrows quivered slightly at the attention she was getting.
“C-cute…” Saul muttered.
Angel, ecstatic at the chance to get a clear look, leaned even closer, “Ah, I was so excited to see if you had pedipalps or not,” her eyes shined with scientific intrigue, “Say Witch… I can touch them, can’t I?”
She meekly stuttered a “No,” her hand drifted upward to pull at her handkerchief nervously.
“What’re… peddypals?” Stitches found himself leaning in as well, curious.
Angel turned to answer, “Finger tongues!”
“F-finger? Tongues?” Saul stammered, “You can taste with those?” an awed expression developed on his face.
Witch squirmed a bit, “I guess so…” she grabbed her bottle and took a sip holding the bottle at her lips.
Angel scooted her chair closer to Witch, “So, we’re friends…” she attempted to stifle her eccentric expression, “would you mind much if I…” she leaned a bit closer, “looked inside? Could you eat something in front of me? Maybe I could have you bite something so I can analyze your dentition?”
Witch slowly slid away overwhelmed by her quick requests, “Wh-Wha? N-no… What’s with you c-creeping on me lately?”
Angel nervously tapped her fingers together, “Creeping? Maybe you’re just shy of the public setting? We could find some place alone, where it’s just you and me?”
“W-why do you make it sound so…” Witch pulled her hood over her head, “Alright, I think that’s enough…”
Angel couldn’t hide her disappointment.
Stitches covered a laugh.
Angel scoffed and turned her head away crossing her arms, “I will never understand such behavior. Such magnificent biological findings lay so close and you all simply acknowledge it with a grunt and continue about your existence.”
“Uh, sorry?” Saul muttered bringing a bottle to his lips.
Stitches raised an eyebrow, “Is it really that important?”
Angel stood up her hands slamming against the table, her face became serious, “Of course! How could you say that?!” she presented her hand, “These bodies, these powers, they’re miracles in modern times! We’ve been blessed with something incredible! It’s completely ridiculous we just accept them as fact and don’t bother with inquiry!” she slumped back into her seat eyes downcast, “It seems this world just doesn’t care…”
“Angel…” Stitches swished around the flat beer in his bottle, taken off guard by her sudden outburst, “Uh, where did you get so interested?” he asked, hoping to fix the awkward mood.
She smiled slightly, “My parents were scientists before research was restricted, they were so patient with me when I would badger them with questions,” she giggled, “I’d be so excited about learning from them I never noticed…” her smile faded into a frown.
She sighed sitting up, “I suppose curiosity runs in the family.”
Stitches twitched a bit, the awkward tone becoming even awkwarder, “Uh, my family was pretty cool… this one time…” he gritted his teeth a bit in thought until his eyes lit up, “We were celebrating just like this and we ended up stealing one of the bars decorations,” he laughed, “It was this big mounted elk head that Mikey just couldn’t stop messing with. He was a big guy so he got it in his head that if he held it at an angle where the staff couldn’t see it behind him, he could just walk right out with it.”
Saul let out a chuckle and Angel began to smile again.
“So, Mikey gets stopped by the bouncer after the barkeeper starts screaming at him to stop because obviously. I’m nervously trying to think of a way out of the situation seeing Mikey is never the guy to let go of a dumb plan after he’s already set on it and police attention at the moment was the last thing we needed.”
Witch leaned her head on her hand, “and yet you did something that stupid?”
Stitches shrugged, “We were wasted, I thought it was pretty funny at first. Jere must’ve thought it was hilarious; the whole time he’s crawling around the floor trying to reel his laughter in. Mikey looks the bouncer dead in the eye and says ‘What’s wrong? We paid the tab…’ the bouncer, not dirt stupid tells him to drop the head.”
Angel let out a giggle, “Your friends sound silly.”
“Mikey is, but only when he’s pretty loaded. Anyways, Mikey thinks for a moment and then runs past the bouncer and out the door. Me and Jere look at the door, the bouncer, then each other before breaking into a full sprint after him. The barkeeper kept after us for about 3 blocks before he gave up. Good thing too, my makeup came right off with the sweat.”
“What about the head?” Witch asked bored.
“We used it to fight off a pack of dogs on the way back and it ended up mounted on our hangout wall. In my personal opinion it didn’t really fit the décor but Mikey wouldn’t take it down for the world.”
Saul laughed, “I don’t think I ever had any crazy times like that but my parents had my back no matter what. When I got super into bodybuilding, they fought tooth and nail to try to get me into the local lifting events. Funny thing was I didn’t even really want to compete, I just wanted to impress my dad.”
Stitches had swig of his beer, “Was he as jacked as you?”
Saul’s eyes lit up, “Oh man he was even bigger in his prime! He had lats like batwings its crazy!” he smiled, “He showed me everything about weightlifting; form, diet, everything. It started with him training me when I was a kid to make sure my back could support the extra weight of my arms. He was so happy when I followed in his footsteps. Mom was too, she was a competitive cyclist.”
“That’s sweet,” Angel smiled, “it seems we both follow our parents’ footsteps.”
Saul stared off at some nostalgic memories for a moment then turned to Witch, “What about you? What’s your family like?”
“Dead,” her expression didn’t change.
“Oh uh, I’m sorry…” Saul shifted in his seat.
“Don’t be, they weren’t good people,” Witch leaned onto the table with crossed arms and tipped her bottle to her lips.
Stitches scratched at an ash stain, “You got any stories from back home?”
She sighed and leaned back furrowing her brow in thought, “None of them decent,” she stuck her thumbnail under her mandible, her lip peeled up revealing the sharp points of her teeth, “Oh, once I got sick of eating dogs and tried to go after a dumpster full of leftovers from a bakery.”
“You know they spread poison on those right?” Stitches grimaced.
“They do?” Witch pondered for a moment, “Well I ate two boxes of doughnuts, and then threw them back up an hour later,” she gave a short laugh and a smile broke through, “I did a lot of silly things when I was little.”
Saul nervously smiled, “Kinda hard to imagine you as a kid.”
She rolled her eyes, “Well I was,” she grinned stifling another laugh, “Ok, so when I was six I met these kids that said I could only be their friend if I had a bike so I found some cash and went to the new store that was selling them.”
Angel looked perplexed, “You found that much money?”
“Well…” Witch tugged at her hood, “I stole it, but I needed it you know? I was lonely and life owed me for being such a bitch,” she crossed her arms and let out an annoyed sigh, “Anyways, they wouldn’t let me in the store even though I had the money so I…” she caught her tongue and nervously combed at her hair, “Huh, I guess that memory isn’t so cute after all.”
Stitches raised an eyebrow, “What did you do?”
“Umm… so… I didn’t mean…” she took a breath, “I didn’t know fire spread that quick…”
“You committed arson?!” Saul’s eyes went wide in disbelief.
“I was a little kid! On all the television shows, fire was never that big a deal; I thought it would be funny,” she rubbed her shoulder, “seems like it’s his fault for buying such a flammable building…”
Angel tapped her bottle intrigued, “You manifested your powers that early?”
“No I…” she looked confused, “I… bought gasoline and some matches and… they told the police that… and then…” she shuddered slightly, “How did I forget-“ she shook her head and cleared her thoughts, “Never mind, that’s a terrible story.”
She looked up underneath her hood to see their blank stares.
Witch sunk in her seat, “So…” she pulled her handkerchief to her mouth and bit it nervously, thinking of a way to change the conversation topic, “What exactly keeps you all going? Most people would just die already.”
Stitches forced a smile, “There’s a brighter way of asking that.”
“Do you mean our raison d’etre?” Angel flipped the grayish white hair from her face.
“Is that some kind of latin thing?” Saul asked.
“French,” she hid a smirk, “It means ‘reason for being,’ it’s the ultimate purpose to your existence.”
“So, like dream then?” Stitches picked at his teeth.
“No, a dream is more like a hope. That’s something you might fantasize about to relieve your thoughts of your life’s horrid problems,” her expression didn’t convey any coldness or warmth, it was entirely neutral, “A raison d’etre is something you actually intend to achieve. It’s not your brains coping mechanism.”
“Sheesh,” Stitches finished his bottle, “so what’s your raisin detra then wise one?”
Angel proudly smiled, “I will create a new organism, completely original from DNA to body structure,” she crossed her arms her smile becoming smug, “I even have all the notes I need for it to survive in the deserts. I was planning a creature that could float in the air and derive its energy from the carbon in the ash storms.”
“You can program DNA? Isn’t that too small for you?” Saul interjected.
“How would it screw?” Stitches asked.
Angel held her chin, “Well, smaller organic compounds are beyond my powers at the moment, but I could sharpen my abilities or just use chemistry,” she narrowed her eyes at Stitches, “and no, it will reproduce by budding.”
“Isn’t screwing necessary for evolution or something?”
“Nonsense, random mutation and natural selection will be more than enough for the creature to adapt.”
Stitches scratched his ear, “Kinda boring though aint it?”
“Boring?” Angel looked offended, “My creature will thrive in the wastelands, there’s nothing ‘boring’ about that at all,” she put on a playful face and poked him in the chest, “What about your ‘non boring’ organism huh? I bet it would go extinct within a single decade.”
Stitches grinned, “Nah, it’ll fly around and eat all your floaty things.”
“But, you can’t just,” she nervously combed at her hair, “Hmph, my creatures aren’t nutrient rich so yours would all starve.”
“I’ll make em small with a massive appetite.”
“That…” Angel thought for a moment, “that doesn’t make any sense!”
Stitches shrugged, “Probably would if I was smarter.”
Saul laughed, “What’s your reason to live Stitches?”
He picked at his teeth perplexed, “Don’t really have one, I’m just here using oxygen,” his head twitched at a thought, “Maybe… when I was a kid, I dreamed about being an astronomer. How bout ‘I want to see the stars again?’ I’ll bring you chumps too; we’ll make a day out of it.”
“That’s it?” Witch seemed disappointed.
Saul smiled, “What’s yours?”
Witch swung her legs a bit under the table, her eyes pointed down to her twiddling thumbs, “It’s been survival for so long, but I’ve never stopped searched for a place to belong. I just want to find some people to hold me dearly,” she quickly realized she let too much out and turned her head up to see the smiling faces of the table, “I’m kidding,” she crossed her arms, “Like I’d tell people I barely knew.”
Saul smirked, “That blush says otherwise.”
She pulled her handkerchief over her face, “I bet yours is something stupid.”
His face went serious despite the alcohol, “I want to be a strong dependable guy that everyone can look up to,” he raised his fist to his chest, “I want to be a hero whose name is forever sculpted in the annals of history,” his lips displayed a proud grin.
Witch snorted as she broke down laughing while Stitches hid his sneer with his hand and tried to contain his breathing.
“Isn’t that typical for young men?” Angel politely asked.
His pose faltered, “Oy, I didn’t laugh at any of yours…”
“No,” Stitches paused as his voice shook, “That’s pretty admirable man.”
He sighed, “Well it’s just a dream.”
The laughter faded into the night as the ash swept over the moonlight.
