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lillaxtrigger · 5 years ago

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Young Hope: Chapter 21

The salty starch of a curly french fry is dipped into a small cup of delicious ketchup; the spicy delight soon chomped in half by Kingsley’s teeth. “Mmmh...” After swallowing the piece, he goes on to compliment the flavorsome fries with: “This restaurant always makes some of the best fries. The salt and spices in each piece just burst flavor. You really outta try them Damian.” From the opposing side of the table does a tan brown hand pinch one of the longer curly fries before him; lifting it near the head of a hooded teenage boy with curly black hair drooping out from underneath. Before him, the boy watches as the long strand of potato simply droop down until it rips under its own weight; a depressing sigh escaping from his mouth as he turns away. “Hey, what’s the matter? Afraid you might burn your tongue? They’re not that hot.” Kingsley question. “I’m just not that hungry is all.” Damian moans.

Right after saying such, a small toddler smacks into his chair; Damian disappearing upon the sudden bump. The toddler looks back, staring curiously towards the seat he’d just ran into; Kingsley watching as the little kid slowly starts to approach. Right when he was near, both hear the cry of a woman; demanding the toddler to: “Get over here, Jimmy! Quit bothering them!” On those orders does the little kid retreat from the table; the boy genius looking back towards the seemingly empty seat. “You wanna talk about what’s been eating you up? You been acting more withdrawn then usual this past week or two.” Before Kingsley does the boy reappear back in his seat as a disheartened groan leaves his lungs; answering him with: “I don’t know. I...I just haven’t been the same since that whole Circe episode. Going through that whole kidnapping and life threatening drama’s just been a little hard for me.” “I ain’t really seeing anything wrong with ya.”

Beside the two, Cayenne sat woofing down the burgers and fries before her like a savage animal; bits of fries and meat spilling back onto the table as she scarfs her food down. “Ya still lookin like the same overly dramatic try hard emo pansy you’ve always been.” she mentions, her mouth stuffed with overly greasy burger pieces. “I don’t think that’s the case. I haven’t heard him speak a single poetic line the whole time he’s been around.” Kingsley denies. “I still ain’t getting what’s eating your ass. Ya got outta that circus of horrors and lesbian magic without losing a single speck of your powers. So what the big deal?” “Cayenne! He’s probably still scared about being kidnapped and nearly getting killed. I’d know I’d be.” “You did, and so did most of my cousins too. Most of the kids that went through that shit storm turned out just fine in the end.” Hearing the spice queen recall such causes Damian to let out a disheartening moan; the boy hanging his head over the batch of spicy fries. “Uh, Cayenne. Maybe it’d be best if you sit this one out.” the boy genius suggests. “Whatev.” Rising from her seat, she takes whatever food was left in front of her before taking her leave; bidding her adieu with: “Still thinking he should just get over it.”

Watching the Spice queen depart, a defeated groan leaves Damian’s lips; hesitantly agreeing with her crass judgment with: “Saying it hurts, but…she right. A lot of the kids that witch had snatched up bounced back from it all without so much as a hiccup. Like the mighty grizzly, the chilling winter of her icy grip had lulled them into a long slumber. But the comforting spring of your warming rescue had awoken them once more; springing back from the brink with more vigor than before. Alas, the cruel winter shows little mercy for me. Like the graceful gazelle, unfit slumbering through the harsh bitter ice; growing ever more frightened and frail than ever.” “Quit thinking like that. You’re not as weak as you make yourself out to be. Everyone just goes through trauma differently, that’s all. That doesn’t make yours any less valid.” The boy genius’s encouraging statement unfortunately fails to perk Damian’s spirits, remaining ever drowning in his woes.

Kingsley slapping the table baits the ghost boy’s attention; Damian hearing him offer: “Tell ya what, how about you and I go out on day through Townsville together. It’s been a while since we done something with just the two of us. We can go wherever your ghostly heart desires. Whadya say?” “I-I don’t know Kingsley. The only thing I’m really wanting to do now is just go home and cry my eyes out.” “Did I mention that the underground cafe downtown is having a poetry evening?” “...Alright, you win.” Rising from his seat, Kingsley rejoices from the agreement by concluding: “Fantastic! Just need to pay the bill and we can hit the road.” Picking up the bill, the boy genius’s chipper demeanor is swiftly cut upon viewing the cost; finding several meals that he knows neither of them had ordered. Over a hundred bucks worth of burgers, fries, sides; Jesus! Only one person was with them that could stuff themselves that much. “Ugh, Cayenne.”

Through the streets of Townsville, the duo walk together among the countless urbanites going about their day; the boy genius asking Damien: “So, you still listen to stuff like Hip Hop and Rap?” “Nn, yeah. I’ve also been branching out more towards the tranquil melancholy that Lofi has to offer.” “Glad to hear your music tastes are still intact. I’ve been seeking out stuff through techno and synth wave myself. Guess our first stop on this cheer up trip’ll be something that both of us will be into.” “Where exactly are you taking us?”

Stepping through a shop door, the specter’s question is answered then and there; beholding a vast cavalcade of music in a slew of forms. Cassettes, records, CD’s, all hailing a multitude of countless genres for all to enjoy. “A music shop? Why is our first stop here of all places.” Damian wonders as both he and his host enter. “I figured since both of us are exploring new genres, I figure we’d stop here to look through some of the new and retro stuff they’ve got stocked.” “Can’t we just do that online?” “Well, yeah. But I find there’s this oddly comforting novelty of having physical media as opposed to just pure data. Just nice to have something displayed on the shelf I guess.” Grabbing hold of the specter’s shoulder, Kingsley guides his guest towards the collection of music as he urges him to: “Come on. I bet we’ll find a ton of amazing stuff sitting in these racks.”

Along the racks of tracks, the duo search the surprisingly vast collection of synthwave music; one of which was a CD labeled “Mitch Murder”. “Think that this might be good, Kingsley?” “Mitch Murder? Oh yeah. My dad used to listen to him a lot while he’d be making gadgets and bots. I remember when I was little, I’d here the soothing synth echoing through is lab and just lull me to sleep. Really relaxing stuff there. Thinking about taking it home?” “Me? Hmm, maybe. It be rather a curious to listen to what music others might enjoy and find out what got them hooked to it.” “Really?” “Venturing out in such unexplored territory can offer a window into the souls of others. Even if it’s completely subjective, you can tell a lot about a person from the sounds that best resonate with them.” “Sounds like you know more about this stuff then I do.” “The souls of others are a very curious endeavor to explore, Kingsley. Every single life in existence is a completely unique being.”

Their search through the shop send them leaning towards the newest lofi hits; Damien trailing his finger across the cases until coming to a particular album. Pulling out the track makes the ghost boy lets out a small sigh, followed by mentioning: “The first Lofi artist I’ve discovered, a hidden diamond sparkling out in the rough that would spark a love for the secluding melody that such a genre offers.” Popping the CD out form its case, Damian flips it into the drive of a nearby music player; grabbing hold of both the headphones attached. “Care to drift along in the sea of melancholy with me, my friend?” the specter asks; offering the extra set of headphones to Kingsley. “Uh...Sure.” Grabbing hold of the pair of headphone, the boy genius dons them right over his ears; first notes and beats he listens to sound...depressing, like really depressing. Slow beats, low droning reverb, soothing piano and guitar; really sounds like something you’d listen to when wondering of the pointlessness of life and contemplating the futility of our own existence, wondering if anything that we strive to achieve will simply just waste away in the march of time until it corrodes into something far less than memory… Depressing stuff, honestly. Not really the kind of music anyone going through those thoughts should be listening to. Best to switch to a much more joyously relaxing experience.

While Kingsley moves over and flips through the countless other lofi tracks, Damian takes in the idyllic desolation playing in his ears. The depressing strums the guitar mixing with the low key strikes of the piano truly a create a comforting misery that eases the pain; as if the musician sympathizes with the woes of trauma and depression.

Such a symphony of gloom is swiftly silenced; the specter opening his eyes as he snaps back to reality. His gaze shifts over towards the player; a new CD being inserted into the slot. Looking to who changed the track, he found Kingsley holding onto the music he was listening to with a caring smile; a new piece swiftly playing for them. This time, a more upbeat, relaxing melody fills Damian ears. A piano, playing higher, more uplifting strikes sings alongside a similarly slow beat much like the previous melody. A complete contrast of the last lofi track, this one envelopes more of a chilling beat, a far more comforting rhythm. Like a friend saying: “Let’s just kick back, relax, and listen to some sweet, sweet sound.” A relaxing breath leaves the specter as a faint smile cracks between his cheeks.

After that change of tune, their journey through the genres continues unabated; both Kingsley and Damian scanning through the seeming endless walls and racks of music track. It’s in this moment that an all too familiar tune reaches the boy genius’s ears; gazing up towards the intercom to find it playing: “You used to call me on my...” Is that… “You used to, you used to” Is that really… “Yeah...You used to call me on my cellphone.” Oh my god, it’s playing Hotline Bling. It’s one of Damian’s favorites. Does he even knows its on? “Late night when you needed my love.”

Turning back to the ghost boy, he found not a single inch of his body dancing to the rhythm of the bass. “Call me on my cellphone.” Guess Damian hasn’t caught on yet. Probably too preoccupied with his woes to even notice. Perhaps a little push in the right direction might break him out of his shell. “Late night when you needed my love.”

Vaulting right over the racks between him and the specter, Kingsley slowly encroaches over to Damian’s side. “And I know when that hotline bling.” The boy genius’s head next to Damian’s, Kingsley starts to serenade along side the songs hot bassline; following the rhythm as the intercom continues with: “That can only mean one thing. I know when that Hotline Bling. That can only mean one thing.” Though not strong at first, Kingsley starts to see the specter’s body moving with the music; Damian foot stomping to the rhythm. “Ever since I left the city, you...Got a reputation for yourself now.” The further he hears Kingsley repeat the songs lyrics, the more Damian starts to break from his shy and apathetic standstill, beating his hands in tune to the bass. “Everybody knows and I feel left out. Girl, you got me down, you got me stressed out.” In the midst of harmonizing with the song, Kingsley begins to hear a low hum from the side; turning to the ghost boy to find him humming to the words. “Cause Ever since I left the city, you...” In tandem with his humming, the ghost boy starts to bop his head to the beat; slapping the racks with more vigorously. “Started wearing less and goin’ out more.” Damian’s whole body begins to move with the rhythm; Kingsley backing away from the dancing boy with a smile. “Glasses of champagne out on the dance floor.” The specter backs away from the rack of music tracks; his hood lowering to uplift his curly black hair. “Hangin’ with some girls I’ve never seen before.”

Finally, Damian turns away from the rack, dancing in full as he joins the boy genius on his chorus; singing out: “You used to call me on my cellphone.” Kingsley soon joins the phantom in his rhythmic bop; dancing side by side with Damian to the beat. “Late night when you need my love.” Both boy spin with one another, soon catching the attention of everybody in the music shop. “Call me on my cellphone.” Both boy then halt their twirl close to the carpet, slowly rising as they stay back to back to each other. “Late night when you need my love.” Once having fully risen, Damian jumps in the air and starts leisurely floating across the CD racks. “I know when that Hotline Bling.” All of the shops patrons watches the ghost boy glide through the store; the cashier even can’t help but gaze upon Damian as he moves to the rhythm of the music. “That can only mean one thing.” One of the shoppers joins in the phantoms serenade; her hips swaying with the beat. “I know when the Hotline bling.” Alongside her, the other shop patrons are gradually pulled into the rhythm; shaking their hips and bopping their heads to the music. “That can only mean one thing.” From the back of the store does a man with a shirt labeled “Manager” burst from the door; joining his patrons in their rapping chorus. “Ever since I left the city, you, you, you.” Gliding through the store; Damian twirls through the air as the other shop goers dancer. “You and be we just don’t get along.” Kingsley looks towards the ghost boy; happy to see a bright smile across his face as he sings with all his heart. “You make me feel like I did you wrong.” Damian lands back upon the carpeted floor with a dazzling flip; spreading his arms out in both directions. “Going places where you don’t belong.” The specter soon leaps back in the air; the people beneath him throwing CD cases in the air all at once. “Ever since I left the city, you-”

From the phantom’s carelessly joyous flight, Damian smacks himself into a whole wall full of tracks; the wall careening down upon another set of tracks beside it. That wall soon knocks over another wall of CD’s, spiraling an entire domino effect of collapsing sets of music tracks. The other patrons scatter away from the chaos, fleeing out the exit in panicking packs. Kingsley rolls away from the falling walls of music track, soon finding an entire rack threatening to topple upon him. Before the collection of songs could slam down upon the boy genius, somebody push him away from the descending rack; Kingsley finding himself thrust out from danger by his phantom friend. The boy genius can do little but witness the CD display tumble down upon his savor in a thunderous bang; soon seeing him buried under more dropping walls and racks.

The collapsing mayhem soon settles into a calming close; leaving the shops vast collection of music in ruin. Though the destroyed merchandise be the furthest worry from the boy geniuses mind; screaming out for his fallen friend. “Damian!” Kingsley lunges towards his buried friend without so much as a hint of hesitance; lifting up one of the falling rack as he assures him that: “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll getcha outta there soon! Just hang on!” Just as he ready to lift away the next piece of debris, the boy genius soon sees the translucent head of his friend; the ghost boy insisting that: “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Like an intangible spirit free from the physical plain of this world, Damian phases right through the toppled collection of tracks; turning corporeal once more as he lands back in front of the boy genius. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” A hearty sigh slips out from between Kingsley lips, the boy genius admitting: “Thank goodness. I really though you were done for a second there. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” “Trust me Kingsley, I’ve made out out of worse.” “I meant like...Are you feeling any better?” “Um...Kind of, but not a lot. Thanks for trying Kingsley.” “Hey, don’t quit just yet. This is just the first stop on the encouragement express; the next surprise in store might just fix your spirits yet.”

“You think so, huh?” a third voice questions. In that moment, a wayward fist breaches out from the rubble of the racks behind the boy genius; the emerging arm soon erupting out to show it belonging to the music shops managers. “You figure out how you’ll do the same with my store?” the manager growls. Presenting the resulting destruction to the two, he points towards the wrecked racks of broken CD’s and cracked case; reinforcing how: “The walls of records ruined, the racks of CD’s reduced to rubble, the tracks that I’ve stocked in shards. My entire music shop’s been completely destroyed! You got a way to fix all that!?” With a worrying groan, Kingsley pulls his wallet out from the depths of his pocket; slipping out from one of its folds his credit card.

Strolling through the concrete streets, the boy genius can’t help but notice Damian’s troubled glare; a gloomy moan leaving his lungs as the phantom stares out into space. “Hey, don’t look so down. I guarantee that the next stop were gonna visit will turn that frown upside down.” Kingsley promises. “You think so?” “I know so. It’s been someplace I’ve been wanting to take ya for quite awhile now. I guarantee your ghostly spirits will soar when you see it.” “Mind I ask where exactly are you planning to take us?”

Guided to his next stop, the ghost boy’s question is answered right then and there; Damian caught off guard by Kingsley surprise. Witnessing the astonishment in his eyes, a smile stretches across the boy genius’s face. “So, what do ya think? Your mood lightening up?” he asks. “I- I can’t believe it.” Standing before them be a brightly colored shop; the phantom beholding the assortment of exotic, almost otherworldly flowers displayed beyond the windows. “I’m guessing that’s a yes. Come on, I want to show ya the inside.” Taking the ghost boy’s hand, Kingsley gently leads Damian through the bright blue doorway; the wind chimes attached to the door ringing through their ears as they enter.

From within the shop, the duo beheld the quaint collection of blooming bunches surrounding them; a rainbow of flora encircling the pair. “All this is simply beautiful. The colors and fragrances all just blending harmoniously together in a symphony of natural beauty. How did you know?” the specter questions. “You kidding? With the whole array of flowers I see all over your house, it’s just a matter of putting two and two together. But all this, it simply pales in comparison to what they got set up in the back. Amazed me the first time I saw it all. It’s what got me thinking it bring you here.”

Stepping out the stores backdoor, both beholding a majestically expansive site spread before them; flora from every corner of the world and beyond gathered within a single enclosed garden, free from the influence of the outside world. The numerously vast collection of foliage leaves the phantom utterly speechless; left at awe of the overwhelming beauty of nature his eyes lay upon. Noticing the amazement in Damian's eyes, Kingsley lets out a little chuckle alongside mentioning: “Yep, that’s pretty much the same face I made when I first saw all this. Ain’t it neat?” “Neat? Neat simply isn’t enough to describe a site such as this. A wondrous union of flora from every corner of the world. The enchanting allure of such an earthly gathering simply draws forth the soul of nature within.” Having poetically described his feelings of wonderment and awe; Damian glides further into the wide collection of flowers before him.

The first set of flora to bait the ghost boys site be the seemingly dangerous cacti; planted upon patches of dry earth surrounded by brick. Drifting closer towards the green desert plants; Damian can’t help but let out an admiring sigh. “The mighty cactus, flourishing among the scorching desert sands. And yet, despite their unwelcoming appearance, they hide beauty among their prickly spines.” Glazing across the barbed patches, the specter soon finds a disturbance to the green; a bright pink flower, blooming right on the surface of a single cactus. “A single beauty; radiating among the harsh shells of the countless cacti.” Gliding his fingers across the flowers petals, Damian feels the gentle, almost silky texture of its petals. “Such a truly remarkable site bares with it a striking statement. How even the seemingly deadliest among us can show truly tender beauty.”

Breaking his site from the cacti underneath him; Damian is soon drawn towards another gorgeous site. “Ah! A deceptive contrast.” The ghost boy floats right over the prickly spines of the cacti and soon faces a glorious set of bell shaped flowers; a glass cage standing between him and the pure white flora. “The duplicitous brugmansia. The Angels trumpet. Truly a name none more deserving to represent the diabolical side of nature.” Phasing his arm through the glass, the specter delicately lifts one of the bells; continuing his description by adding: “Though their bell like bulbs may show themselves to be delectable and tempting, their petals hide an insidiously toxic poison. Even a single bite of this bell may very well send one on a terrifyingly painful trip towards the gates of heaven.” Taking his arm out from beyond the glass cage; Damian concludes is poetic statement with: “An example none more fitting for deceptive beauty. For what we may find as graceful and innocent may well be far more deadly and toxic than we perceive.”

Away from the lethal bells, the specter continues to drift through the glorious garden. Swiftly are his eyes taken towards a small bush sporting white flora all throughout its branches. “Quite the rare site. Never in my life would I imagine laying eyes upon the delicate hawthrons.” Nearing the bush of white, Damian gently brushes his palm along the white flora; adding how: “A flower seemingly so bland and uninteresting; blending in alongside the other beauties of nature. Alas, these tiny, fragile flowers hold within their stems an extremely potent healing property; the perfect ingredient to create powerful herbal medicine.” Pulling his hand away from the delicate flora, the phantom finishes his poetic dialect with: “A bold statement on how the small and blandest in our lives can have the biggest impacts.”

Out from the side; the ghost boy hears the call of his friend; Damian turning towards the source of his voice: “Hey Damian, come check this out.” Quickly, he glides towards the boy genius; gazing up to the majestic site right behind him. Witnessing the look of amazing upon his ghostly friend, Kingsley questions him with: “Ever seen something like this before.” “Only in myth.” Standing tall above them was the grand centerpiece of the entire exotic garden; a glamorous emerald tree enveloping a regal fountain. “An emerald evergreen. I’d never thought I would lay eyes upon such a wondrous site.”

The dazzled specter begins to ascend towards the top; the emeralds shine glimmering across his body as he rises. Near the trees crest, Damian plucks a piece of emerald hanging from one of the crystal branches; holding the piece of naturally grown jewelry towards the sun. Through the glass dome, the sun shine beams through the emerald; shining green upon the phantoms face. Dancing whimsically with the piece of rock in hand, Damian recites how: “This beautiful tree of shining jade truly brings the entire garden together; standing alongside the majestic flora to create a stunning symphony to represent the earth as a whole. A magical union of natures wonder.”

Finishing his dance, the ghost boy casually tosses the emerald leaf in his hand aside; soon descending back down towards Kingsley. The piece of rock ends up lodging itself into the sprinkler set at the top; the rock blocking the fountains water flow.

Landing right beside the boy genius, Damian lets loose a blissful sigh; Kingsley questioning if: “Guessing your spirits are soaring high now, aren’t they?” “As high as the stars themselves, Kingsley. My soul has soared beyond the atmosphere and has drifted through the planets themselves.” “Great to hear. You uh...You still hung up about you know who?” “As a matter of fact, I-” Right before the specter could give his say, both hear a violent shaking of metal and rock behind them. Turning back towards the tree, the duo witness the emerald evergreen swiftly start to furiously tremble; the loose bits of jade shaking off the crystal branches.

Right in front of them does a jet of water breach out from the hard emerald; Damian turning intangible before the gushing stream could hit him. The water jet phases right through the ghost boys body, soon striking the boy genius right behind him. “Kingsley!” Damian screams; watching as his host careens across the garden. Soon, the boy genius is smacked against the shops back wall; dropping down upon the grass with a thud. Witnessing Kingsley rise from the wayward flight, a relieved moan escapes from the phantoms lips. That same relief is swiftly withdrawn when he turns back towards the evergreen; geysers of fountain water breaking out from every side of the emerald tree; the sharp shards of which scatter all across the garden. As he gazes upon the disaster acting out before him, panicking cries reach Damian’s ear; glancing to his side to find the people fleeing from the ensuing chaos. One of these passerby’s lags behind the absconding crowd as he trip right onto the tiled walkway; looking above to witness a shower of sharp emerald pieces raining down towards him. The man braces for his inescapable demise; curling up as he awaits for the shards to impale his backside. But he feels not a single sting to his back, soon curling out from his brace to notice an emerald green glow shining right behind him; gazing back to discover the specter shielding him from the lethal shower with a translucence green plasma shield. “Get out of here!” he hears his savor demand. Not hesitating for a single second, the man scampers away from the ghost boy; Damian’s shield dissipating from the palm if his hand once the emerald rain ceases.

Back upon his feet, Kingsley beholds the escalating pandemonium ensuing before him; whole chunks of the evergreen now spraying out from around the fountain. Oh god. This is getting bad, really, really fast. They got have a water pressure control around her somewhere that can shut all this down. Hoping to find such, Kingsley swiftly scans through the garden for something that fails to blend in with the scenery; an element that clashes with the background as a whole. Out from the other side, his eyes soon lay upon a gray box nestled among a bed of gorgeous lilies. Jackpot!

The control box in his site, the boy genius sprints through the tiled walkway; passing through the retreating garden patrons. Kingsley glances up to witnesses his ghostly pal surveying through the sky; Damian’s attention soon baited by the boy genius when he calls. “Damian!” Gazing down to Kingsley below, the phantom listens as the boy genius orders that: “I’m going for the water control box! Get everyone outta here!” Hearing these demands, Damian descends down to the tiled pathway towards a couple of fleeing people. Hugging both by their wastes, the phantom sweeps the two out of the enclosed garden; phasing both him and the couple right through the glass dome.

Witnessing his phantom friend working on rescuing duty, Kingsley continues his race towards the control box up ahead. Out from the evergreen does another chunk of emerald come blasting out from the tree’s surface; the large jade rock careening towards the sprinting boy genius. Rolling along the tile, he slides right under the careening jewel as it passes right over him; the rocks rugged shards just inches away from his back. Once the emerald flies by, Kingsley leaps right back on his feet and continues towards the control box.

From there, the boy genius hurries towards the patch of lilies; green shadows sliding across the pathway baiting his attention up. Above, Kingsley witnesses several large shards descending right towards his path; refusing to halt for their landing. Continuing through, he sidesteps out from emeralds piercing crash down; witnessing the sizable shards digging straight through the tile. Finding another ready to crash before him, he jumps out from the jade jewelry’s landing; pieces of tile scattering upon impact. One more jagged jade digs right into tile pathway in front of him; Kingsley moving right by the broken piece of emerald.

Within the shop itself, two scruffy looking fellows calmly browse through the selection of flora along the shelves. One of them puts his nose up to a set of blue flowers and takes in the present aroma they emit. “I’m telling ya man. These hydrangeas will really make the place pop. Be a nice site among all those moldy hallways.” one of the suggests. “Hmm. Not to sure if blue really is the color we should go for.” the other doubts as they withdraw their nose from the flower. “Well, what kind are you thinkin about?” “I don’t know, man. Something like looks more natural. Maybe something green?” “Man, don’t fuckin joke about that. You remember the last disaster that happened when green came into our lives?” Before the other gent could answer, a crowd of fleeing patrons passes right behind them; the two turning their sites to the absconding shopper. “The hell’s got them so worked up?” one of them wonder. Glancing out through the window, the other answers with: “I think I might know what.” Both gazing out into the enclosed garden, the two scruffs stare out as they watch the specter and gifted scientist zoom through the scenery; their sites specifically locked towards the racing Kingsley. “Oh ho… ain’t that a familiar motherfucker.”

The boy genius lethal race through the garden seems to begin reaching its finish; Kingsley making out the piping hooked to the water control box among the lilies. Threatening to halt his progress however be another jet of water erupting from the tree. Though none of the shards tempt to fly in Kingsley’s direction, the speeding stream of water shoots right for him. Right on the mark, the geyser of fountain water strikes him aside; the technician sent flying through the garden. Kingsley’s forceful flight starts to take a turn for the worse, soon finding himself rocketing right towards the desert dwelling cacti. Kingsley closes his eyes, knowing there’s little he can do to to stop his careen towards the sandy pin traps but brace for the spiny impact.

Just before he could feel the sting of their sharp needles, he’s is snatched out of harms way. Failing to feel any of the cacti’s deadly pins pierce his skin; Kingsley opens his eyes and gazes up to find himself held in the air by his ghostly friend. “You okay?” Damian wonders. “I’m fine. Just fly me to the control box.”

At his friends request, the phantom teen glides across the garden to deliver his friend towards the lilies. Right when nearing the control box, Damian hears his passenger then order him to: “Now, drop me down!” “What!? But where nowhere near close to the ground! You’ll get hurt!” “There’s no time to land, Damian! Other peoples lives are at stake!” Although reluctant, the ghost boy heeds to his friends request and releases his grip on Kingsley’s arms; the super genius plummeting down towards the lily patch. While Kingsley’s descent proves trouble free, his landing shows to be anything but; breaking his ankle upon the solid concrete. The rough landing makes him tumble back; the gifted technician grabbing hold of his foot as he cries out; “Ah! My ankle!” “Kingsley!” his phantom friend concerns as he starts to descend. “Don’t worry about me! Just keep getting people out of here!” With that order, the ghostly teen flies away; leaving Kingsley to limp towards the control box.

Zooming back into the fray, Damian witness a huge chunk of the evergreen burst from the tree; the emeralds trajectory sent straight towards a fleeing elderly couple. With all his might, the specter jets straight towards the couple; coming neck and neck with the careening piece of crystal. Outracing the chunk of jade by only several inches, he reaches his arms out towards the two; grabbing hold of both senior citizens. The hunk of shining rock however slams down upon all three; the tiled pathway around the crashed emerald fracturing on all sides. Thankfully, all of them remain completely unharmed; Damian intangibly leading them out of the chunk of jewelry.

Finally making it to the control box, Kingsley leans over and begins digging through his pockets; soon pulling out his beloved screwdriver. With but a single stroke, he jams the tip of his tool right between the box and its cover; soon starting to wedge the lid off. It takes only several motions before he finally pries off the lid, revealing the valves and button controls held within; immediately beginning to turn the valve clockwise. The fountain set around the broken evergreen begins to finally calm; the water spurting out from the shattered walls of emerald soon dying down as a shimmering rainbow is left in its wake.

Finished leading the elderly couple out of the garden, Damian zooms back towards his technically gifted host. Kingsley himself sits relieved; a peaceful sigh escapes him as he knows the destruction is at an end. Seeing his phantom friend approaching, he rises from the patches of dirt to complement the ghost boy with: “Thanks Damian. You’re a big help. Your bravery and swift thinking here saved everyone's lives.” “Are you kidding. You’re the real hero here. I just simply kept people out of harms away. You...Your the one that actually stopped this whole mess.” Tempting to rise from the dirt, the boy genius stands on his feet; his ankles soaring horribly upon standing. Watching Kingsley fumble back down, Damian approaches worried; asking him if: “Oh my god! Are you alright!?” “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just my ankle. I’ll walk it off.” Rising to his knees, another question pops into Kingsley head; making him wonder aloud: “Still, kinda curious to know what screwed the fountain up so bad. Piping just doesn’t burst outta nowhere like that.”

Wondering such himself, Damien glides over towards the fractured fountain; taking a curious glance at its crown. Looking within the warped pipe at the top, the phantom teen spots something green clogging the inside. Phasing said object out with an intangible hand revealed to be a solid emerald leaf, a very familiar emerald leaf actually. Upon wondering why it seemed to recognize the jade crystal foliage; the answer suddenly hits him. “Oh...Oh my...” “What’s the matter, Damian!? Find something up there!?” he hears his host shout from below. Reluctant to show him; the phantom teen slowly descends to the base of the fountain where Kingsley stands. Without a word, Damian shyly presents the jade leaf to the boy genius; Kingsley surprised how: “That little thing caused the fountain to burst? That’s nuts. How did it even get up there?” “It’s because of me...” the specter shamefully admits. “What?” “I was the one who carelessly tossed this beautiful crystal leaf into the fountain’s crown. It’s because of me that the pipes burst and caused so much trouble.” “So it’s you’re fault, is it?” a third voice blames.

Gazing towards the source of the raspy intrusion, the duo are joined by an approaching old lady pointing her finger at the phantom as she continues with: “You’re the reason the piping went haywire!?” “Huh?” Damian wonders. “Look at the mess you made out of my precious garden!” Gazing upon the destruction that the owner presented, the two see before them the countless chunks of emerald having destroyed the tiled walkway, but the various flora as well. The rhododendrons ripped to shreds, the carnations crushed, the anemones annihilated, the peonies pulverized; almost every single flower in the garden pierced by jade shards. “All the work that I’ve put into this glorious garden, now reduced to nothing but a bejeweled catastrophe! But the worse of it all is the centerpiece.” Pointing towards the crystal tree; all three of them behold the result of the fountains clog; the emerald evergreen fractured by the burst piping. “My beautiful evergreen, shattered and destroyed beyond recognition and repair. Never to be beheld in its former glory again.” Contemplating the destruction of this once gorgeous garden that he had caused, despair ridden feelings begins to well within Damian. “Look, we’re sorry, okay. We didn’t mean to cause any of this.” Kingsley attempts to defend. “You think saying that’s gonna fix my garden? You know how much I’ll have to spend to restore all this; to track down another emerald evergreen!? How do you think your gonna compensate for the destruction you’ve caused!?”

With a guilty conscience weighing him down; the ghostly teen digs through his pockets to pull out his wallet. “I can-” Getting his wallet out, Kingsley lowers his phantom friends while he insists that: “Relax, I got it.” “But Kingsley, I can’t let you pay for what I did.” “You really think that you or your parents can afford to pay for all this? I got this covered.” A weak moan leaving his lips, the ghost boy puts his wallet away.

Limping through the twilight streets, Kingsley can’t help but hear his ghostly pal beside him berate himself on how: “It’s all my fault. All the wonder and beauty held within that glorious garden, all the CD’s and records that the music shop had gathered; all squandered and ruined because of my carelessness. The very pleasantries that deliver me joy and happiness, all come to ruin by my thoughtless actions. Truly, the universe wishes for me to weep; to wallow in the sorrows of my own doing.” “Step beating yourself up so much. You managed to save a whole bunch of people today; twice myself included. Swooping in and flying people out of the face of danger. You should be proud.” “Danger that I’ve caused. None of them would even have to be saved if it weren’t for me.” “It ain’t even remotely your fault. It’s how those places were constructed that was the problem. What made that flower shop keeper think that growing an emerald tree around a fountain wouldn’t lead to a disaster.”

Even with these statements, Kingsley finds his words showing little in lifting his friends mood; Damian simply staring down onto the concrete streets. “But uh, hey! Don’t be too down. We still got one more stop left on this encouragement express, and I guarantee that this final stop will really make the day. Trust me.” Upon those words does the boy genius lead Damian down a small flight of stone steps; soon opening the door at the bottom to reveal a small bar. The specter’s eyes are set alight on beholding the small stage behind the crowd; hearing the woman on stage sound off a haiku. “The wind is blowing. With it carries the glow of spring. The lily orchid blooms.” The end of her poetic haiku is met with a slew of snapping fingers; Damian's mouth open in astonishment. “The underground theater bar. I was so busy wallowing that I’d forgotten.” “I knew this would brighten you’re mood, even if it is kinda smokey. Think your up to get on there and perform.” Kingsley asks, waving away the puffs of cigarette smoke. “Are you kidding? I can’t wait.”

Brimming with excitement, the ghost rushes to the nearest empty table; soon pulling out a notebook and pencil as Kingsley sits next to him. Teething upon the neck of his pencil, a pondering groan escape from Damian’s lungs. “Nnn, I just can’t decide. What do you think I should write about?” he asks his host. “Whatever you want to write about, Damian. Poetry is a beautiful free form art with only the limits of your imagination.” “Kingsley, that not an answer. I need inspiration, dammit.”

The chime of the mic cuts in between their conversation, both looking out towards the stage to witness a woodland dressed gentleman tapping upon the tip. Drawing the entire bars attention, the gent clears his throat and begins his poetic anecdote with: “Few have never had the pleasure to experience an enchanting encounter with the heart of Asian nature such as I; beholding the unfiltered majesty of the Thailand jungles. The sunlight shinning through the bamboo thickets revealed the beauty reflecting within our precious earth. The elephants marching through the tall foliage as they guide their young showed to me the parental bonds we humans take for granted. Witnessing firsthand the symbolic relationship between the flock of oxpecker birds and pack of hippopotami proved to be a heartwarming example of the harmonious relationship between different creatures. All stunning examples of what we as a species should be striving for.” The woodland gents description of his trip through the Asian jungle lends him a mild snapping applause from the audience.

Fresh off hearing this performance does the distinct sound of rumbling hit Kingsley’s ears; the boy genius glancing down to see his stomach in an uproar. “Esh, guess those fries ain’t sitting too well. I’ll be in the bathroom if you need me.” he mentions as he rises from his seat. “Don’t take too long in there, Kingsley. Once I’m done, it’ll be my turn on the stage.” Damian insists without looking up from his notebook. With the boy genius strolling into the bathroom, he fails to witness the next poet come on stage; a woman in gothic attire standing within the spotlight.

Grabbing hold of the mic with her nail polished hands, the goth girl begins to recount the her tale by starting with. “The waxing moon shines down upon the decrepit remains of a Norwegian castle; the midnight lunar glow illuminating the rustic and dust ridden ruins of its halls revealing a haunting beauty one of which can only behold to believe. Traversing through the keeps darkest corridors, I had witnessed a magical site before me; fractured vision of the abodes glory days flash through the hallways. Passing through these sparks of nostalgia, the very air itself felt out of time; the furnishings and decors feeling new down to the very touch. But alas, these visions fade all too soon; the battered and decayed remains of the castle returning to shambles once more. Never have a seen anything more decadent such as that Norwegian keep, as if whatever haunts its halls is attempting to recollect memories lost to the unforgiving ages. Perhaps the day shall arrive when those that linger within the castle release themselves from the grip of their troubled memories and finally rest once and for all.” Having finished retelling her trips throughout the haunted castle, the gothic woman sets the mic back onto its pedestal; the audience lending her story a much stronger set of snaps. This haunting experience also sparks inspiration within the ghost boys own thoughts, Damian rapidly scribbling down words within his notebook.

Fresh from leaving one of the bathroom stalls, Kingsley draws in as much of the ocean breeze air fresheners captivating scent as he can; a refreshed breath leaving his lips. Ahh! That smells so much better. Certainly beats the puffs of smoke wafting outside. Don’t really know how anybody can live in that nicotine fueled air.

His shadow trailing behind the streetlights out the window, the technician strolls to the sink as he takes in more of the bathrooms pleasant incense. As he turns the sinks nobs, he wonders where exactly the refreshing smell originates; pressing the soap dispenser to find the scent coming from it alone. Whoa, that is some strong smelling soap; the scent itself leaking out from the dispenser just to grace everyone with its majestic scent. Almost as if the air of the very tropics themselves boarded a plane to town just to forcefully jam themselves straight into the noses of others. Wonder who sells this stuff?

Beside him does another stall open, a shadow trailing along the tiled floor as it approaches the boy genius’s backside.. All the while Kingsley himself remains distracted by his personal hygiene. Lathering his hands with the strong smelling soap, he finally rinses his palms; washing away every last bit of the suds. Taking in the smell of his palms, a relaxed sigh escapes from Kingsley lungs; the ocean breeze soon replaced with the scent of chloroform as a rag is forced over his mouth. Struggling against his assailants grasp, the boy genius looks within the mirror to find somebody holding him tightly, unable to make out any distinct details as his vision slowly fades. Kingsley soon falls into a deep slumber, the red swirling goggles once strapped to his neck slipping off onto the bathroom tile.

Upon the bars stage, the Damian’s chance in the spotlight finally arrives; the specter shyly putting his mouth to the mic as he announces: “Thank...Thank you all for giving me the chance to tell all of you my own tale. Truth be told, I’ve had this chronicle on the back of my mind for quite a long time now, and am happy to finally share with all of you one of my stories.” Sharing such earns the phantom teenager a small set of snaps from the audience before him; Damain looking down onto the paper of his notebook.

“Through a man made portal of swirling green, my entire body was cast into the emerald afterlife. Beyond the gates of the dead, I float through a seemingly endless void of tormented spirits and haunting beings; wailing in never ending agony over the mortality they’ve lost. Among the countless lost souls, creatures beyond words drift alongside them; praying upon their despair and sorrows like emotional predators. Floating along the swirling madness, a countless cavalcade of doors rest to my sides; each one unique to the next. Living behind their wood lie the countless memories of the departed, some being little more than single lit rooms, other massive expanses as far as the eye can see; though they all attempt to keep what little shards of memory their mortal lives once held. Soon, my journey led me faced with exotic islands beyond the reaches of the living; struggling against weathers of blistering heat and freezing winds. Venturing through the beautiful paradises of lost roman cities, to the unkempt hellscapes of torturous ruined prisons; I’ve ventured out through the most alien and imaginative worlds that human imagination has yet to comprehend. But at long last, my search for home came at an end; led to the very portal I was thrust into. Without a single moment of hesitance, I bolted through the swirling gate, soon met with my loving parents arms once more.”

Upon finishing his daring story through the dimension of the dead, Damian steps away from the mic and gives the audience a graceful bow. The silence is then shattered by a wave of snapping fingers, everyone in the bar applauding the ghostly teen’s haunting tale. Hearing himself receive such an ovation brings a bright smile to his face, the phantom casting away his dark hood to reveal his long sleeved dark yellow garbs underneath. That smile however starts to dissolve upon staring back towards his table; realizing his friends failed return from the bathroom.

Entering the men’s washroom, Damian sees not a single soul beyond the door; not even a sign of his host. “Kingsley? You in here?” he calls out. Alas, he fails to bait even a remote response, hearing only the acoustics of the tile repeating his call. His sites soon turns to the stalls, checking underneath to find not a single pair of feet. Opening all three of them yield nothing either, each one completely vacant. Quite peculiar to be honest. He definitely said he was going to the restrooms, certain that he was. It’s not like him to just depart without so much as warning, especially during a day out such as this.

Upon pondering this does Damian feel something crack below his feet, glancing down and lifting his foot to find a familiar set of goggles, one of the lenses shattered by the specters foot. Picking them off the floor, he knew right away who they belonged to. This-these are Kingsley’s favorite pair! He’s almost always has them around his neck. Something must have happened. He wouldn’t just leave them on the floor so carelessly like this. Betting he was kidnapped, this is a job for the cops.

With this in mind, Damian feverishly pulls out his phone; his finger resting on the police dial. Right when he was ready to make the call, a worrying thought perks up and causes him to hesitate. Hang on! If he was kidnapped, it’s almost a safe bet they plan to hold him hostage; having him at gunpoint and could cap him at any sign of the heat. Might wanna call in somebody that can make things go smoothly. Thinking this, the phantom teen scrolls up to the “C” list; his finger hovering over Cayenne’s number. Eh, maybe not. She might wind up making things worse.

Putting his phone back, the ghostly teen lets out disheartened groan. It’s no use. It doesn’t matter who can help out, they’ll just draw attention and put Kingsley in danger. Guess its more of a solo rescue mission then. Still, there is one thing that can track him down. Something that Dad talked about a couple years back. Might be kinda rusty at it, hadn’t really had much need to practice. Oh well, guess now’s a good a time as any.

Taking in a deep breath, Damian lets out calming sigh; shutting his eyes as he holds the pair of broken goggles before him. An emerald green aura begins to emit from the ghost boys palms, soon enveloping Kingsley’s swirling goggles in their glow. From the aura do the pair of goggles start to ascend from his hands; the phantom focusing upon the eye wear until nothing else remains in his mind. With enough concentration, the aura surrounding the goggles transforms into a violet hue; soon trailing away from the pair of eye wear and drifting towards the left. Opening his eyes, Damian witnesses the aura trial phasing through the bathroom window. Walking to the small window, the specter lightly taps the glass; the window falling over onto the concrete street. From there, Damian phases out from the bathroom and in to the alley; swiftly following the aura of his friend out into the streets.

Trapped within the dim confines of a ruined room, two thugs finish tying the gifted technician from neck to toe tightly to a wooden chair; remaining oddly calm to the daring situation at hand. “Sooo...why did you guys kidnap me again?” he nonchalantly asks his captors. “For real, you saying don’t remember a thing about us?” the one to his front wonders. “Mmm...Nah.” “Not even the time we kidnapped ya a few months back?” the goon wonder, hurt by the boy genius’s lack of memory. “Eh, ain’t ringing any bells.” “Seriously, how often does ya sorry ass get ganked that you don’t recognize us?” the other behind him wonders as he walks to Kingsley’s front. “Happens more times then you’d think, honestly. Ya mind being a bit more specific?” “The Raw Shuck gang?” Mentioning their identities leaves their captive ever clueless; Kingsley simply starring at them with a confused gaze. “Those three brats you had with ya tore up our sweet hideout the last time we took ya.” “Nnn...sounds familiar, but...You sure that was you guys?” Upon this absence of memory, the two crooks are left speechless; one of their eyes beginning to well up with tears. Wiping the tear off his face, the goon pulls his partner aside to talk in private.

Facing away from their captive, the one goon goes on to mention: “Told ya our reputation’s been plummeting the past couple months. Gotten so bad that this mofo we ganked a while back can’t even remember us.” “Maybe it wouldn’t have took a nose dive down to the earths core and out the other side if we had more than one hideout. The damage that assholes kids caused took out half our gang.” “Hey, it ain’t my fault that some new brats in town are muscling in on our turfs and beaten the shit outta us.” “Who’s even stompin us out anyway? Didn’t even hear a single name.” “I don’t fuckin know. Bunch of young ass mofo’s going around callin themselves the “Yellow Jacket”. Some shit like that.” “You fuckin playin with me here? What kind of twink ass freaks just strutten through the streets like tough shit name themselves after a bunch of damn wasps?” “Well, who names their gang after a psychological test?” Kingsley interjects. From behind their back, the two goon look back towards the boy genius; glancing to each other to realize their captive listening their private conversation. Fulling turning back to their tied up hostage, the two gaze upon Kingsley with intimidating glares; one of them putting their face to the boy genius’s and threatening with: “Ain’t nobody gonna bust you outta here this time.” Both make their exit out; the other goon leaving Kingsley with a departing promise. “You gonna pay for make fools outta the Raw Shuck.”

With these parting words to the two thugs leave the boy genius tied up; Kingsley himself left apathetic to their warning. “Oh no. I, Kingsley Spicer, have been captured once again by a menacing gang of thugs and entrapped under their ropes. If only I had come prepared for this inevitable situation. Oh wait...” he claims with droning sarcasm. Loosening his wrist from the tight hold of his restraints, the boy reveals a watch from under the ropes. Pressing a button to its side causes the watches face to open; a small mechanical appendage soon firing a small laser. “I did.” the boy genius sarcastically recounts as the laser cuts through the rope holding him down. Once the last of his binds has been severed, Kingsley rises from the wooden chair, brushing off the loose strands of rope. “And people wonder why I wear a watch with smartphones around.”

Outside, Damian stares onward as a nervous gulp passes through his through; beholding the run down hospital blending into the night. “Get it together, Damian. It’s an abandoned hospital...filled to the brim with murderous thugs ready to unload their guns towards an intruder at a moments notice. No big deal, nothing to fear.” Glancing down to the pair of broken goggles in his hands, the phantom teen witnesses the voilet aura trail winding through the front door. “If I play my cards just right, I can swoop in and get Kingsley right out. All with no one else the wiser.” This strategy cemented in his head, Damian makes himself invisible to the naked eye and glides right through the front door.

Set deep within the dark corridors of the hospital, two goons stroll past an open desk sitting right in the middle of a big intersection. “So they asked you how you want your pork cooked?”. “Yeah, it was really weird. You told me that pork has to be cooked in a specific way right?” “It has to be cooked thoroughly so that all the bacteria in it get burned off. Kinda shocking that they even asked in the first place.” “Yeah, probably won’t be long before they catch the heat of the FDA. That steakhouse is a lawsuit waiting to happen, just wait.” Once the two turn the corner, their thought to be captive peeks out over the counter; glancing in both directions before sneaking away in the opposite direction.

Prowling through the molding hospital halls, stealthy technician gazes up towards the ceiling; the exit signs hanging over head beaten in. Beyond it however laid another sign, pointing where the fire escape is located. Seems like the perfect getaway at first, doesn’t it? Just slip through the emergency exit and book it as fast as ya can. But with the tempting bait lies an insidious trap. Judging by the dim lights, this place is still holding the power together. The alarm to the fire escape probably hasn’t been cut. Try and walk out through there and the blaring alarm will get the whole hospitals attention. Still, there’s gotta be another way out. Somewhere nobody will even notice anybody making their getaway. Upon wondering such does Kingsley witness a shadow creeping out from the corner; soon frantically looking around for a place to hide.

Out from beyond the corner, disgruntled goon walk through the empty hallway with a mop and bucket in hand. “Man, why the fuck do I always get stuck with janitor duty. Ain’t like anybody else is going through this moldy ass shit hole. Only got me on this one man clean up crew with just fucking mop and bucket; don’t know what makes em think that anybody can clean this whole crap dump with just these thing.” Caught up in his aggravated rantings, the janitorial grunt fails to discover Kingsley hiding within one of the open patient rooms; the door broken from its hinges. Once the angry cleaner was clear from the halls, the sneaking genius slinks away from the janitor; sadly unaware of his invisible ghostly pal searching for him on the other side of the hall.

Passing the pissed grunt overhead, Damian continues to trail through the dim hospital halls; following the violet aura emanating from his friends broken goggles. His trailing search soon takes him to a split in the middle; Kingsley’s energy venturing off in both directions of an intersecting hallway. The phantom ponders why his trail would fracture so distinctly like this; only two explanations at the top of his head. Either these thugs couldn’t decide where to stow him, or...he must have broke free! If the latter is true, then Kingsley would be attempting to sneak out towards the exit. Best track him down post haste, lest these brutish thugs catch him in the midst of his escape. Judging from where the entrance is located, Kingsley would likely be going...right. Having thought this, Damian takes a right on the 4 way hallway; resuming his rescue as he continue to follow his friend’s aura.

His invisible pursuits soon lead him to an alarming predicament. Standing before him be a whole cavalcade of thugs, crooks and grunts, mingling to one another of their criminal escapades within what looked to be a small lobby. Oh...oh boy...Okay, this gonna be tight. Just gotta not make a single sound and this’ll go as silky smooth as melting butter on top of toasted bread.

Carefully does Damian start to fly over the pack of thugs without so much as a peep; as getting close to the ceiling as he possibly can without touching it. Only a few feet of space stand between their countless heads and his body; the specter quieting his breath so not to draw any attention. As the phantom teen carefully floats over the murmuring crowd, he regrets not making enough time to practice his other ghostly abilities with his father; maintaining intangibility alongside invisibility being a skill that would have come in handy in situations such as this. Perhaps once this is all over, the father could explain how to do so without contracting overwhelming migraines.

A trouble that bares its fangs when Damian’s clothes are caught on the ceiling, the unexpected jerk making the mineral fiber tile over him tremble. Glancing back, the phantom had found the bottom back of his shirt caught along a loose wire. Hearing the murmuring cease underneath, Damian gazes down to find the crooks below him staring up towards him. “Anyone else see that?” “Yeah, part of the ceiling moved.” “I saw it too!” “Probably just rats! This place is crawling with them.” “I don’t know, I ain’t hearing any scuttling.” With the crowd under him growing curious, Damian slowly attempts to pick out his shirt from the wiring; his endeavors causing the tile over him to shake. “There! It’s moving! I knew it!” “Da faq’s goin on up there!” “Someone got a stick or somethin?” “We could just stack on each other and reach up there.” “Hell, no. I ain’t havin someones dirty ass dick on the back of my neck.” “Found a broken IV pole. Will that work?” The crowd beneath him gathering ever closer, Damian hurries to unhook his shirt from the loose wire; someone from the band of crook drawing forth with a long metal pole. Right as the goon with the broken IV pole was under him, the phantom manages to free himself from the wires grasp. The crook below begins to thrust the pole upward; Damian slipping right past its metal neck just in the nick of time. Floating away from the mineral fiber tile, the lackey instead pokes at the loose bit of ceiling; lifting the tile to reveal simply the loose cables underneath. “Huh, maybe it was just some rats.” “Well, what else do you expect from an abandoned hospital?” “Don’t know. Fuckin ghost.” “Josique, shut yo damn mouth.” Finally putting the curious crowd behind him, Damian lets loose a quiet sigh; glancing back to find not a single one of them the wiser.

The phantom then attempts takes off from the gang of goons, hoping to gain as much distance from them as possible; his getaway immediately interrupted when slamming into a wayward henchman. Both the invisible ghost and goon fall right on their asses on impact; the entire crowd behind them drawn by the unexpected fall. “You okay there, man?” one of them worries. “Ah! Anybody see what the hell happened?” the crook on the cracked marble wonders. “Think you might have tripped?” “No, felt like I ran into somebody.” The crowd of criminals behind him approaching the two, Damian wastes not one more moment to escape while he’s still remains relatively undetected; zipping right past the baddie before those behind him could realize his presence.

Peeking out from the other side of a thick metal door; Kingsley finds himself having reached the roof of the hospital; the full moon illuminating the entire top of the building to reveal not a soul wandering outside. With nobody in site, the wonderous genius steps out into the night; the cool fall winds brushing past as he shuts the door behind him. Although a little shivering, the freezing night air is welcoming none the less; taking in a breath free from the foul stench of aging mold and dried blood. It never really crosses the mind the kind of horrible odors that can originate from a hospital with cleanup being a constant need. With barely anybody around to keep up maintenance, all the fowl smelling bacteria comes out to play. Kinda surprising then that no one down there has contracted any diseases yet.

Putting these thoughts behind him though, Kingsley opts to take a glance out from the side; staring down below to spot an armed thug patrolling the face of the hospital. Pretty obvious that they’d have the front of their hideout covered, but what about the sides? Looking down to the left shows a couple of crooks creeping along their HQ’s first half. Okay, maybe the right might prove more lax. But alas, walking across the rooftop revealed the hospitals right side to be just as secure as its left. Right, they probably have the back covered as well. And just as predicted, the back shows to be just as covered as the rest of the outside. They’re not really being lazy with security, are they? There isn’t a single blind spot to climb down to and sneak off. With every corner of this place covered, there’s really only one option left to take. Digging through his pockets, the boy genius pulls out his smart phone; unlocking his screen and brings up his contacts. Hard to believe they didn’t think of taking this away.

Scrolling through his friends number, he ponders who exactly to call in this time of need; knowing all too well that calling in someone like Cayenne would risk causing one heck of a commotion and could end extremely poorly. No...a situation such as this calls for someone with a far more careful hand. Somebody who can easily slip into the shadows and go by undetected; as if turning invisible to the naked eye. But who exactly can fulfill such an insanely careful and incredibly crafty roll... Eh, Damian could fit the bill.

Finally making his decisions, Kingsley taps on his ghostly pals number; putting his phone to his ear to hear the dial tone sound off. Come on, please pick up…

On the floors below, Damian himself floats through the dim halls of the hospital in pursuing his friends aura. The phantoms search soon leads him to a run down patients room, opening the door to find before him a peculiar site. Behind the destroyed equipment at the end of the room be a lone wooden chair with a set of rope surrounding its bottom. Picking the rope off the old marble floor shows the binds having been cut in half at the back; sporting scorch marks around the severed end. Touching these marks felt hot to the touch; the smell of burnt cloth still fresh.

They definitely tried to keep him held up in here; but knowing Kingsley, he swiftly figured out a way to escape. The goons outside don’t really seemed particularly alarmed; they must not realize that he’s free yet. Gahh! Should’ve took the left instead of the right back at the split. Guess there’s not much else that can be done but backtrack and hope that Kingsley can stay outta site long enough.

Right as he ready to trudge back through the halls, the phantom’s phone blares out Drakes “In my feelings”; Damian scrambling through his pockets to pull out the source of the echoing ringing. From the side, the phantom feverishly puts his call on hold and shuts down his phone entirely; regrets of not doing so sooner flaring in his mind. Though there’s little time for self deprecation, as the specter soon hears the sound of approaching footsteps. “Who the hell’s playing Drake in here?”

Three thugs soon storm through the doorway; gazing within the seemingly empty patient room as one of them assures that: “Swear I heard it come from in here.” “Think some dumbass might’ve left their phone in lyin around?” the other wonders. “Maybe. Let’s look around. See if someone’s hiding in here.” the last suggests. All three of them start to look deeper within the ruins of the patients room, unaware of the source of the noise standing right beside them. Damian remains completely quiet as the crooks search through the broken hospital furnishings; inching closer towards the rooms open exit.

One of the lackeys soon comes across the chair surrounded by freshly cut rope. “Hey, guys. We kidnapped anybody recently?” he wonders. “Yeah, somebody finally knocked that Spicer brat and brung him back. Have him stowed up somewhere. Why?” one of them questions. “Uh, think they might have got out.” “What!?” From the other side of the room, the goon rushes to her comrades side and beholds the very same site as he. Picking the rope up, she ran through its string to come upon its severed end. “Dammit! How the hell, he get out so fuckin fast!?” “We gotta go tell the others. Who know’s how long he’s been sneakin around here?”

With the crooks alarm does Damian finally leave through the doorway; soon meeting with the blunt force of a wayward baseball bat. The impact causes the phantom to fall to the marble floor; soon becoming visible to the world once again. All within the patient room stares down onto him; surprised of his sudden appearance. “The fuck! Where the hell’d he come from!” “Swear, this town is full of freaks!” “Didn’t even see him at all. Who punched his lights out?” “That be me, mofo’s.” someone speaks up. Coming out from the hall, a forth crook wearing an odd pair of goggles comes in wielding a baseball bat. “Josique!?” “Ya’ll callin me fuckin stupid for blowin my cash on inferred goggles! Bet all ya’ll asshole kickin yoselves for constantly given me shit! “God dammit, Josique. You wastin yo greens on stupid shit stead of crack or hoes? The fucks wrong with ya?” Well, that look like a waste a greens, mofo’s!?” he gloats, points to the groaning ghost boy. Writhing on the floor; Damian’s consciousness begins to elude him; the last words he hears before blacking out be: “Just shut up and get the cuffs.”

Anxiously awaiting atop the roof, Kingsley stands by as he attempts to call for his phantom friends; the droning ring sounding out in his ear sweat drips down his forehead. A disheartened sigh leaves his lungs when the tone goes straight to voicemail; spurring the chance to leave a message and jumping back to his contacts. Guess there really isn’t much options left to take now, is there? Things might get kinda messy with Cayenne charging straight in, but what else can be done at this point. Just hope she doesn’t go overboard this time.

The boy genius scrolling back up towards the C’s in his contacts, his finger hovers over Cayenne’s number. Just when he was ready to make the call, his phone picks up an incoming call; the oncoming number soon turning to Damian’s name. Seeing his ghostly pal calling, Kingsley waits not one more moment to take the call; putting the phone up to his ear and pleading: “Damian! Thank goodness I finally caught you. Listen, I’m trapped up here at the top of an abandoned hospital. I need you come get me before the goons down below find out I’m-” “Hello, dear friend.” a deep voice greets. Kingsley nerves wind right back up when hearing the unfamiliar tone on the other end. “Mind staying on the line as you come back down, buddy? I have a guest down here that I think you be interested to reunite with.”

Held within the dim confines of a central office, Damian struggles to free himself from a set of neon green handcuff. Turning intangible fails to release his hands from their grip; a painful shock delivered to his whole body that forces him back to the physical plane. As he recovers from the sudden shock, a voice to his side warns that: “Slipping outta those cuffs ain’t gonna be that easy for ya, pal.” The specter gazes over towards a slim man donning a pale business suit; his face sporting black markings around his eyes. “I know. These are standard phantom containment cuffs. Only official phantom patrol officials are allowed access to these. How did someone like you get your hands on a pair?” Damian demands. “Kinda hate to admit it, but nabbing a pair of those puppies wasn’t easy. Had to go through a ton of black market channels just to try and find the damn things. Course since last time, we knew that it had to be a necessary investment. A little precaution just in case. And judging from the way your struggling in those cuff; I’d say it was all worth it.” Turning away from his ghostly captive, the man puts his feet up over his desks and lays back on his chair.

Right after he gloats does his office door creaks open, the boy genius himself being led in by a crook with a gun pointed to his back. “Ah, speaking of which, glad to see you back. Allow me to formally welcome you into the depth of the Raw Shucks den.” Damian steps out from the shadows, fervently asking: “Kingsley! Are you okay!? Did they hurt you!? I- Hang on second.” The phantom then turns his sites back towards the man behind the desk, wondering: “The Raw Shucks? Really? What kind of crime boss would name their gang after some psychological test?” “I was asking the exact same thing.” Kingsley adds. Slamming his fist against the desk, the boss rises from his seat; insisting that: “It’s meant to be a bad ass name! It’s supposed to tell others that we’ll psychologically ruin them. Get inside their mind. The trauma we cause’ll fuck them up. Ya get it? Come on.” Everyone in the office stands in the office in silence; perplexed of the boss’s naming reasons. Glancing to the goon holding Kingsley at gunpoint; Damian watches as she simply just shrugs. The lack of a response makes the boss pinch his nose as an irritated groan escapes his lungs. “Where the hell was I?” Snapping his finger; he reminds himself that he cut off at: “Right. Right. Threats.”

Sitting back down, the boss picks up where he left off; promising Kingsley that: “We’re gonna make you pay for crashing our party last time, Spice boy. Those brat you sicked on us ain’t here to help you out this time. Not to mention having your ghostly pal here on his leash. The bust up since then set us back big time. Rival gangs have been coming in and muscling in on our turfs, drug trafficking ring’s been shafted, heists and robberies have been dwindling to a crawl; it’s all been just a really shitty month to be honest. But ya know something?” The boss then vaults right over his desk; finishing his statement as he lands with: “All that’s gonna change real soon once we cash in on the pretty pennies both your ransoms will make. The investments we made in our hour of need will pay themselves back tenfold. With all those greens fueling are return, we’ll take back Townsville’s underbelly and conquer what lies beyond!”

His painted gaze aimed towards the boy genius, boss commands him with: “Now, hands up, phone down.” Feeling the cold steel of the iron barrel on his back, Kingsley calmly complies with the bosses orders; dropping his phone and raising both hands over his head. After picking up the mobile device, the boss glances right above his hostage’s head to find the boys hands balled tightly; immediately ordering his guest to: “Fist...Open.” With those words does Kingsley look towards his ghostly friend; Damian staring back as his eyes squint. Following the bosses words does the boy genius open his palms; releasing a small black ball that drops towards the ground. Both the boss and phantom watch as the featureless ball rolls along the marble crack; Damian’s eyes widening as he realizes his friends plan. The little ball finally explodes; Kingsley giving his phantom friend a determined smile as the entire office is swiftly enveloped in a shroud of white. Coughing up the smoke bombs discharge, the crime boss flails about to try and clear out the clouds; several gunshots sounding off in the chaos. The smoke eventually dissipates, the boss and his armed lackey finding their guest having vanished. Glancing back to his desk’s side, they saw that the phantom has disappeared as well. A small growl coming from between his teeth soon morphs into a full blown scream; the boss crushing the boy genius’s phone with his bare hands. He swiftly turns towards his goon; demanding that she: “Don’t just stand there, go after them!” Once the crook sprints out into the hall, her boss vaults back on the other side of his desk; grabbing hold of the intercom and announcing to the entire hideout. “Attention, my lovable pack of marauders. We got a couple escapees scuttling in our halls! Get yourselves armed and scramble towards the west wing, on the double!”

His announcment echoing across the entire hospital, Kingsley and Damian sprint as fast as their legs can carry them. “You really can’t phase us outta here?” the boy genius question. “Unfortunately, no. As long as these accursed cuffs cover my hands, nearly all of my powers are locked under its steel. Curse the bounding achievements of paranormal technology!’” “Damian, relax. I can get them off. We just have to find someplace to hide so I can pick the lock.”

Winding and weaving themselves through the molding halls, the duo attempt to break down every door they can in hopes of finding a place to hide; most of the doors they encounter either locked or stuck shut. Those few with no doors fail to be effective hiding places; rooms they come across either being cluttered messes or small closets.

Their escapades are eventually come to a dead end, Damian stopping in his tracks when turning the corner. Kingsley unintentionally tackles him down, both boys falling upon the dirty marble floor. “Ah, why’d you stop?” the boy genius wonders; soon looking along his side to find the answer. Rising from the floor, the duo are faced with a squad of armed goons and crook; all their firearms aimed right at the two. “Oh, wow. They gathered faster then I anticipated. That’s...quite impressive actually.” the technician admits. “Yeah, bitch. The Raw Shucks don’t slouch around. Now, you two piss ant’s scramble back your rooms before we cap yo asses.” one of them warns.

To the specters side, Kingsley whispers that: “I only packed the one smoke bomb. I don’t got anything else up my sleeves.” Gazing out to the group of armed thugs set before him, the phantom puts on his bravest face and counter that: “You might not...but I do. Stay behind me and plug your ears.” With that answer, Damian start to approach the front of the crowd; Kingsley frantically whispering: “What are you doing!?” “Something that my dad said that I should only do in emergencies.”

The phantom teen stepping to the front of the pack of lethal crooks; one of them warns the boy to: “Come on, kid, don’t be a hero. Just back away and play nice.” Breaking his determined glare, Damian takes in a mighty breath of air; the crowd before him perplexed why the boy was holding his breath. Their answer is soon given in the form of a bellowing screech; Damian letting loose powerful emerald waves from his mouth. Kingsley backs away towards the wall, covering his ears upon the horrifying screech. The intense wail starts pushing the thugs before the phantom back; the emerald waves causing them to careen into the walls. While some try to block out the unholy shrieking, others attempt to fire upon the bellowing phantom; their bullets failing to travel far as the emerald waves push them back. The constant blast of booming screams starts to make the entire hospital tremble; the walls before him beginning to give way. Soon, Damian’s tormenting wails breaking through the facilities structure, entire chunks of the hospital being blown away by his green screech.

Eventually, the boy genius hears the ear piercing screams die down; Kingsley opens his eyes to find an astonishing site. Before his ghostly friend, the entire side of the hospital had been completely destroyed; a funneling hole left remaining in the aftermath. He finally breaks his stare out into the open night sky when he witnesses Damian fall to his knees; the specter coughing up blood onto the broken marble floor. “Damian!” the boy genius shouts; rushing to his phantom friends side. Kneeling to Damian, Kingsley worries if: “Are you okay!?” Ignoring the boy genius’s question, the ghostly teen puts his entrapped hands before Kingsley. “Get these cuffs off. They’ll be here any minute.” he wheezes out. Upon this request, Kingsley frantically digs through his pockets, soon pulling out his trusted screwdriver and jamming its tip straight into the cuffs lock. As he shifts his tool through Damian’s binds, both begins to hear the echo of constant footstep approaching; the ghost boy urging his friend to: “Hurry...” Kingsley looks back to see shadows he begin to creep out from the corner, making him haste his lock picking. Finally, the specter’s cuffs come undone, the technological metal binds falling to the floor.

Damian witnesses a pack of crooks turn the corner, witnessing their barrels aimed right towards the two. Before a single one of them could open fire; the phantom bounces on the boy genius. Kingsley hears the sound of gunfire echo through the hall; looking beyond his phantom friend to find the goons behind them unleashing their salvo atop the two. Though dozens of bullets pass right through them, not one does any harm to them. The teenage genius looks down to find Damian hugging him as tight as he possibly can, the phantom turning them both intangible against the led shower. With whatever strength he bares left; the specter jumps away from the small cavalcade of armed of criminals and rockets out from the very hole that he’s created. The thugs behind them attempt to shoot the escaping duo right out of the sky, none of them coming close to land a single bullet on either of them.

In his flight, Kingsley looks back towards the hospital disappearing in the distance; admitting that: “I can’t believe we actually made it outta there in one piece. Damian, your-” Just before the boy could speak any further, his friends strength finally fades; both boy soon begin to plummet down towards the buildings below. Both soon land right on top of an apartment building; the duo rolling across the rooftop before stopping right near the edge.

Slowly rising from their rough landing, Kingsley looks on towards the direction of their escape; claiming that: “I don’t think they’re gonna pursue us this close to the city.” Turning back to his savor, he begins to conclude that: “I think we should be safe to-” Silencing his statement, Kingsley witnesses his phantom friend kneeling on his knees; the sound of sniveling sounding out across the rooftop. “What...What the matter? Are you still hurt?” the boy genius wonders, nearing Damian’s side. “I’m...so...worthless...” Taken aback by his self loathing statement, Kingsley looks to his phantom friends face to find tears trickling down his cheeks. “What?” “I screwed practically everything over. I couldn’t keep you from getting kidnapped, I broke your favorite pair of goggles, and when I tried rescuing you, I just wound up getting caught myself.” he reviews, presenting Kingsley shattered lens to him. Taking the eye wear from his ghostly pals palms, the boy genius hears him continue with: “All day, things how been taking a turn for the worse and its all cause of me. I’m nothing but trouble. Cayenne was right. I’m nothing but a melodramatic coward.” Kingsley throws his broken set of goggles aside; patting his self loathing friend on the shoulder as he denies that: “Damian, that ain’t true in the slightest. Far from it. I probably would have wound up becoming a led filled organ pinata if you hadn’t came in and got me out of that nest of crooks.” “But...you still had to come and save my spectral hide after I got locked in ghost proof cuffs.” “And you still went and blew a ton of them away. Even with those things on; you not only took them out, but blew up a whole half of a hospital, all just by screaming. We would have been caught dead if you couldn’t do that.”

Wiping away the snot from his nose; Damian adds with his retort with: “No one’s gonna believe any of this coming out of our mouths though. People like Cayenne’ll still see me as nothing more then a spineless poet.” A melancholy sigh escaping from his lungs, the teenage specter, continues with: “Much like natures mighty lifeline, the graceful honeybee. Keeping their world beautiful and full of life. But alas, those that benefit from them the most see them as nothing but a nuisance, much like I.” “Stop thinking like that. You shouldn’t care what the vast majority of people think of you anyway. Doing that’s just gonna make you get all kinds of unnecessary stress. You know who’s opinion you should really be concerned with?” “Who’s?” Pointing his finger right to his ghostly pals nose; Kingsley simply answers: “Yours.” Kingsley sees that this statement fails to waver Damian’s self doubt; swiftly thinking what he should add to cheer up his phantom friend. “But…even if you still aren’t too sure about yourself. Just know that...you’ll always be a hero in my eyes.” This final guarantee makes a smile crack between the spectral teens cheeks; a laugh soon escaping through his teeth. “Thanks Kingsley.”

Rising from the course roof, Damian stands tall by Kingsley’s side; both boys starring out up to the full moon as it shines its lunar glow down upon the town. “The full moon. Shining its brightest when facing the earth and its struggles. Much like how all of us can shine when we face our existence.” “Glad your feeling better, buddy.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Might’ve given credit about Damian earlier, but just in case:

Damian belongs to: @princesscallyie

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope

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swimyghost · 6 years ago

Text

He Won’t Cause Trouble- An OW Fanfic

Hey guys! This is based on @overdrugs-mayhem ‘s Overwatch Shapeshifter AU! This fanfic was based on this picture. I hope you like it.

**UNEDITED**

Ranakye worked hard to maintain his position in the Deadlock Pack and he wouldn’t lose it just because some dumb mutt made some puppy eyes at him.

Since it was the hottest summer the Pack had experienced in years, the leader of the Pack ordered that multiple hunters went out in order to scavenge for food. Most of the Pack grumbled but obeyed the leader. Ranakye and the others knew he’d be killed soon, just like all the leaders before him. But Ranakye also knew that if they just ignored him, they’d be killed just like Mthunzi was.

Ranakye shivered, remembering how the young Beta’s stomach was shredded like a piece of spoiled fruit. His blood staining the once pure yellow sand.

Bhekumbuso, the dark-furred lion, and a notably weak Alpha had let out a roar and kicked his body across the camp. Blood was quickly scattered across the crowded camp, meaning a few members were hit with the red liquid. A few shifters just looked away from the young wolf’s ruined body, others just laughed at how foolish he was, and even fewer were mourning his death,

“MOIRA!” Bhekumbuso screeched, shifting out of his thick-furred lion form and into his black haired human form. He wore an elegant black and navy robe over his plain sandy-white tunic and long pants. He bitterly kicked some blood-drenched sand away from his gazelle hide shoes and scanned the crowd for the infamous Deadlock healer.

A red-haired figure had emerged from the crowd. Many members scurried back, letting out frightened whimpers. The figure’s mouth had curled into a cruel smile, making Ranakye and many others’ stomachs sick.

“Yes, your Excellency?” the mature woman said, her voice as smooth as milk and as sour as if it was spoiled.

Bhekumbuso jerked his head over at Mthunzi’s body, which had caused many members to scatter away from him,

“This fool ignored my order and for that, he lays dead Moria. Just… Give him a cheap burial. Have some members help you.”

In a gust of wind, the pale-skinned woman transformed into a long-legged dark red furred maned wolf. Her long black snout turned into a devilish smile as she said, “Gladly, my Alpha!”

Bhekumbuso just snorted and retreated back to his den, his whorish mate probably waiting for him.

Moria’s grin turned into a snarl that pierced the hearts of all that heard it as the maned wolf faced the crowd.

“Well?! Someone join me or else!” she threatened, raising her tail and growling like a rabid beast.

Members quickly rushed (or had been pushed forward) towards the female and awaited her next order.

Moria quickly lowered her tail and her physically threats stopped. She nuzzled a tan mountain lion, who Ranakye remembered reeked of fear-scent.

“Thank you, my dears. Now… You will follow me now!” Moria explained cheerfully.

Ranakye had watched the small band of Deadlock members fearfully follow the healer as she lazily dragged Mthunzi’s body out of the camp, leaving silence in her path.

After Moria was gone, the Pack swiftly continued their duties like nothing had ever happened. That display of power Ranakye (and many others who refused to admit it) sick, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. So, he just followed orders and obeyed commands like a good little Beta, just so his hide wouldn’t be used as bedding.

Which was exactly what he had been doing this entire hunting trip; ignoring that worthless brown mutt.

Ranakye grunted as he felt a swift kick aimed directly at his left side. The light brown wolf stumbled but refused to show weakness. Instead, he just took it and growled at his attacker.

“Ranakye! Don’t growl at me and pay attention!” snarled a light gray wolf, his neck fur raised.

Ranakye lowered his tail and head. He glanced at the wolf’s white underbelly as he murmured, “I’m sorry Amaziah. It won’t happen again.”

The Alpha barked, “It better won’t! Now, continue dragging that gazelle or I’ll make sure you’ll be dragging back that gazelle and your flayed hide!”

The Beta nodded and latched his strong jaws around the bloodied neck of the dead gazelle. Ranakye’s mouth watered at the taste of the fresh blood. He controlled his urge to tear into the creature’s sand-covered flesh and padded alongside his higher-up, the Alpha Amaziah.

Ranakye flattened his fluffy ears against his head when he heard shrill laughter behind him.

“Awww! I wanted to see a fight! I guess pwoor baby Ranakye is too scwared to fwight his Awlphaaaaa~!”

Ranakye let out a loud growl before dropping his kill. He whipped around to pressed his face into his taunter. It was a dark gray wolf with black stripes racing down his back and legs. He had mitch-matched eyes and a smug smile on his long and ugly face.

“Do you really want to fight me, ass-licker?” Ranakye hissed, baring his yellowing teeth, “You know what happened last time.”

The wolf let out another shrill laugh before narrowing his eyes, “So I got a few bruises, it made up for the fact I got to watch Biiflee kick your sorry ass before making you lick his feet!”

Ranakye was about to leap at his pack-mate when Amaziah yelled over both of them.

“ENOUGH! Both of you can’t go more than two minutes before trying to tear out each other’s throats!”

The Alpha dropped his kills, a gazelle, an antelope, and two rabbits, and shoved the two pack-mates away from each other.

“Mwitu!” Amaziah scolded, facing the gray wolf, “For once, shut your fucking mouth or I’ll personally tear out your tongue!”

Mwitu lowered his entire body to the ground. He pressed his head on the ground right next to his kills both yelping, “Yes Amaziah! Sorry, Amaziah! I beg for forgiveness!”

Amaziah nodded and faced Ranakye, who was slightly shivering with fear. Amaziah’s icy blue eyes flared with annoyance, “For once, Ranakye, control your damn temper or else I’ll crush your shit-eating face!”

Ranakye nodded profusely, dropping to the ground like Mwitu did, “Yes Amaziah! Sorry, Amaziah! I promise to better control my actions. I beg you to not harm me!”

Amaziah’s face curled into a scowl, “Get up, bitch-boys, and start walking towards the canyon walls. It’s hot and I need to take a shit, tear some flesh off these creatures, and rest!”

Ranakye and Mwitu stood up and picked up their kills without a word. They followed Amaziah across the sandhills towards the orange and red canyon walls. The burning sun beamed down on the group making them pant heavily. Sweat dripped from their coats and onto the itchy ground. Ranakye couldn’t wait to relax but knew a job had to be done or else Amaziah might really kill him.

Once they reached the shady canyon walls, Amaziah allowed them to take a break while he “took a nasty shit”.

While waiting, Ranakye looked up at the sky. It was cloudless and a calm blue. A fresh breeze had found its way towards the two, making them both sign in relief.

“Man, I think we’ve found the best spot in aaaaaall of the desert!” Mwitu said lazily, his tongue hanging loosely from the side of his mouth.

Ranakye rolled his eyes, “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ll have to leave pretty soon and go back to the overheated camp.”

Mwitu narrowed his eyes lazily and spoke in a playfully angered tone, “Man, why you gotta ruin my fun? Do you always have that stick up your ass or so you just shove it up there for kicks?”

Ranakye shrugged and laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, a large object that smelled of sweat and blood was dropped in front of his nose. Ranakye scrambled into a sitting position where he saw Amaziah standing in front of him, licking his black lips.

“We need to eat before we continue. Here, eat his smaller gazelle.”

Ranakye glanced down. An orange short-furred gazelle with a ripped out throat and bloodied stomach laid before him. It was smaller than the gazelles the group previously caught but still useful.

“But won’t Bhekumbuso get mad if he finds out we ate a meal before him?” Ranakye asked, tilting his head.

Mwitu let out a cheer, “Who cares bro?! Just dig in!”

Mwitu shoved past Ranakye and sank his teeth into the creature’s back. Tearing out a piece of flesh, the wolf laid down and began eating. Amaziah pressed his nose against Ranakye, a gesture meant to calm him.

“Relax, I’m sure Alpha will understand. If not, I’ll explain that we had to go farther away from camp due to the heat.”

The light brown wolf with the brownish-white underbelly accepted Amaziah’s words of encouragement and began to rip out meat from the throat with his sharp fangs. Amaziah did the same but from the gazelle’s stomach.

While Ranakye and Amaziah ate their meal like proper wolves, Mwitu shredded the back while sloppily chewing and eat. Blood dripped from his chin and unto the ground. The wild look in his blue and green eyes made Mwitu seem wild and insane.

Amaziah grimaced, “Can you can more hyena-like or what?”

Mwitu swallowed and grinned, revealing his bloodied teeth, “Hey! My mother was a hyena! Where do you think I got my good looks?”

Ranakye was about to insult him when a noise made his ears shoot up. He stood up and to face where he had heard the noise, where he learned it was a whimper coming from a young brown wolf pup. The same pup that had been following the group around all day.

“Amaziah,” Ranakye murmured, “it’s that kid again.”

“Don’t mind him Ranakye,” Amaziah answered, merely glancing up to look at the scrawny wolf.

“We don’t need another hungry stray pup in the Pack!” Mwitu yelled, standing up with his tail held high and his yellow teeth bared.

The pup didn’t move. Instead, he just licked his lips and gave them the puppy eyes. While Ranakye knew Amaziah and Mwitu were emotionally moved by the pup, Ranakye was.

Although Ranakye was a Beta, his father had cursed him with one thing before ditching his mother and siblings inside Deadlock Pack territory. Having the traits of an Omega.

Omegas were considered weak in the Deadlock Pack due to them having higher emotions and them being smaller. They were also seen as having not as many muscles, which equaled strength in the Deadlock Pack. The only Omega who wasn’t treated like a slave was Moria, due to her Alpha mindset and her knowledge of lifesaving herbs and life taking poisons.

In conclusion, to the members of the Deadlock Pack, Omegas were nothing more the slaves or easy-fucks for the more crude members. While Ranakye was a Beta physically, his mindset made him more Omega like. Though he was better at controlling it then his siblings (not all were Betas, some were Omegas which he watched be abused every day but not stepping forward), he still had periods of over-thinking and emotion-overload (as he dubbed it).

Now, seeing this waste of flesh beg for food like that made his body shake with anger but his heart and mind filled with grief. Before Ranakye could do anything, crazy Mwitu stepped forward with an evil grin on his face.

“Do worry guys, I’ll deal with the kid!” Mwitu shouted with glee, licking his lips hungrily.

The pup’s eyes widened with fear as he tried to back away from Mwitu, whimpering at every step.

Amaziah stood up and slammed his paw down on Mwitu’s head. Mwitu gasped in pain and crashed to the ground like a pile of rocks. Ranakye just watched as Amaziah glared at the kid and snarled,

“Get out of here! Scram! Run before I wear your intestines as a necklace!”

The pup yelped and scrambled up the sandhill before disappearing from sight.

“There,” Amaziah nodded, “now he’s gone.”

“Ow….”

“Quit your whining and continue your meal!”

“Yes, Amaziah…”

Ranakye let out a tiny sigh of relief before continuing. His peace was not long, forever, since the pup crawled back to his spot only heartbeats once they started again. This time, making even more sad faces.

Ranakye shook with anger, which Amaziah mistook for Ranakye wanting a fight.

“If you chase that pup I swear I’ll kick you in the balls so hard that the Pack will think you’re some kind of deformed female!”

Ranakye nodded and lowered his gaze. Throughout the meal, the pup’s gaze dug needles into his skin. He hated every moment and just wanted to tear that pup’s throat out so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Instead, the Beta in him just acted like emotions were pointless and focused more on his meal and the fact the Mwitu was still whining after being hit.

An hour that felt like a year later, Amaziah nudged his packmate.

“C’mon,” he stated, picking up his kills, “we need to get back before Bhekumbuso kills another wolf in anger.”

“Agreed!” Mwitu said, rolling his eyes, “Seriously! Why did the last leader think letting a lion in was a good idea?”

“Beats me,” Amaziah shrugged, “now we just gotta live with the consequences. Now, get your kills and let's go!”

Ranakye scrambled to his feet and picked up his kills, which were a gazelle, two antelopes, and a crane. He glanced over at the pup, who was now eyeing the remains with delight and licking his lips with anticipation. Ranakye knew he’d pounce on the gazelle once the group disappeared from sight.

So, stealthy, he lowered his head and grabbed a piece of flesh with his teeth and hid it in his mouth.

While Mwitu and Amaziah muttered loudly ahead, Ranakye just followed slowly behind, watching the pup’s every move.

The brown pup had his head lowered in the sand, refusing to meet any of their gazes. Ranakye saw fleas racing around through his fur, meaning he hadn’t taken care of himself in a while. He had a few scrape marks and missing patches of fur, which Ranakye thought that meant this hadn’t been his first attempt at food. His tail was tucked between his legs, showing a sign of Ranakye would have accepted, except for the fact the pup had a weird scent to him.

A scent that meant nothing but power and authority. A scent that Amaziah and Bhekumbuso both shared. The scent of an Alpha.

Although the pup was barely six years old and clearly hadn’t developed any traits or showed any signs of an Alpha, Ranakye could smell it and feel it.

‘This random pup is going to be an Alpha… And a fucking good one at that!’ Ranakye thought with surprise.

Ranakye had no idea how he knew, but he knew it was true. Maybe it was his Omega side or maybe he was just insane. Whatever the case, Ranakye had a newfound respect for the pup.

While most Alpha’s acted all high and mighty, it was nice to see one beg and grovel. And the scent of true power that floated off him made Ranakye feel like this was a true leader, one who deserved power.

Once Mwitu and Amaziah disappeared over the hill, Ranakye dropped his kills next to the pup, causing him to leap back. They both stared at each other, one filled with fear and one blanketing his emotions.

Ranakye spit out the lump of meat. At first, the pup stared at it with shock, too scared to move. He looked up at Ranakye with both fear and confusion. The Deadlock member didn’t move. Instead, he just calmly blinked and narrowed his eyes.

“You will be treated like this forever unless you do something, you worthless hunk of meat,” Ranakye explained, flicking his tail from side to side, “kindness out here is a weakness. If you want to do anything, you need to be bold and show no mercy.”

The pup didn’t say anything at first, choosing to look at the meat instead. For a few heartbeats, silence had blanketed the two. Ranakye just thought the pup would snatch the meat like the greedy buzzard he was but he was surprised when he spoke.

“If kindniss is weaknuss,” the pup said, his voice thick with an innocent and southern accent, “dan why are you helpin’ me?”

Ranakye was taken aback by his question. He looked away for a few seconds before replying, “Because I’m weak, I just know how to appear strong. You need to learn that tactic if you’re gonna follow us.”

With that, Ranakye picked up his kills and raced after his packmates. Amaziah and Mwitu were far ahead but had stopped to wait for Ranakye.

“You idiot! Why did you stop!” Amaziah scolded Ranakye while hitting him over the head with his paw.

Ranakye ignored Mwitu’s hyena-like laughter and lied, “The pup tried to grab one of my kills, so I chased him away. I’m sorry if I upset you, Alpha.”

Amaziah, both smug that Ranakye had been submissive due to his rank and angered that a worthless pup tried to steal from the Deadlock Pack, yelled, “WHAT!? Where is that little bastard!? I swear, I’ll shred him!”

Ranakye nosed Amaziah’s shoulder, “Relax, he ran off and I was able to stop him. Besides, didn’t you hit Mwitu for trying to chase him?”

Amaziah let out an annoyed sigh, “You’re right… C’mon now! Let’s just go home and forget about that pup, alright!?”

Ranakye nodded and followed the two while Mwitu whined.

“I was really hoping for a fight, Amaziah!” Mwitu complained through a mouthful of fur, “Are you really just going to chicken out now when you could easily find him?!”

Ranakye rested his tail on Mwitu’s back in the hopes of calming him down, “Relax, Mwitu. You’re just getting worked up for almost nothing. You don’t want Amaziah to hit you gonna, do you?”

Mwitu grumbled and complained to himself, but agreed with Ranakye and continued on without fighting.

“Besides,” Ranakye continued with a tiny smug grin, “he won’t cause any trouble. Honest.”

#Overwatch #fanfic #ow shapeshifter au #jesse mccree #puppy mccree #fan character #african names #idk what to tag this as #please read #moria o'deorain #moria overwatch #mcree overwatch

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