#i rose from my grave to coin this on a whim

[astralburned]

Drabble? {On the Arcade}

[A short drabble about Ace and Arrow’s life, or rather, a part of it; the time they spent in the Arcade.]

“Aaaaaaah!”

Their lazy pace down the street came to an abrupt halt, as one of two twins, attached by hands, suddenly became an immovable stone. Angelos lurched forwards, but her grip- and her stance- held firm. He was forced to follow his twin’s gaze into an adjacent store. “Look at him, he’s so cute! Annie Annie I waaaant him!” She expressed, nearly jumping with joy. Angelos sighed, but she tugged him across the street anyways, and squished her face into the glass.

With his sister distracted by the claw machine, it was up to Angelos to keep his eyes out for trouble, but that wasn’t really different from the norm. She was prone to her own whims, and he was the most level-headed of the two. Still, he didn’t like standing in one place. Luckily, or maybe unluckily for him, Arrow had had enough of just watching from outside and dragged them into the building. At half past one, the place wasn’t all that busy. The machines around them hummed, played music, or even spoke enticing words to get people to put their hard earned cash in them. The quiet seemed safe enough for him to let go of his sister’s hand and, much like when they came across those capsule machines or candy dispensers, Angelos wandered about, poking coin return slots and looking under machines for dropped money. His little fingers made it easy for him to pull the long-forgotten change out from underneath the machines, and he busied himself with that until….

“Ahem.”

Like a deer in headlights, the child rose quickly, a large shadow looming over him. “Shouldn’t you children be in school?” the old man asked. Angelos blinked once, twice, but before he could answer, he saw a brilliant flicker of reds, teals and violets. “Hey, back off!” Arrow shouted. Angelos mentally facepalmed. Why was she like this? Did she know the headaches she caused him? He began hastily searching for the bright red sign of salvation, the exit. The man turned to look at her, fire in her eyes and in her hand, and though Angelos couldn’t see his expression anymore, he noticed a lack of… Well, the typical tension and shudders of disgust that most normal people would display when faced with Arrow’s sparking flame. “You kids are Burnish?” The word slipped off of his tongue without the expected contempt. Arrow noticed it too, and her flame flickered momentarily before she let it go entirely. Arrow noticed something. Wow. Angelos would mark that day down on his calendar, if he had one. “My granddaughter is a Burnish, too,” the man said quietly. He gazed around the empty room, then knelt down to the children’s height. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to sell you out. Where are your parents?” “Likely in a shallow grave somewhere. Who knows,” Arrow replied bitterly. Before she could say anything else that might break the precarious peace they had going on here, Angelos scurried over to his sister’s side, in proper nudging distance. Just in case. “Here,” he said, changing the subject, and pulled out a handful of loose change, “I found these under your machines. I’m sorry.” The man ruffled his hair and, with a bit of difficulty, pushed himself back up. “Keep it. Consider it a finder’s fee. I’m too old to push the machines and get the change out from under them, anyways. Better they be used by kids who need them than hide under the machines for all eternity.” Angelos looked at the handful of coins. It wasn’t much, but he was sure he could find more underneath the machines.

This became a ritual.

The dark building held many corners, and the machines ran hot. It was hard to find a couple of Burnish kids in the midst of the maze of arcade games, and so they found a safe haven here. Arrow liked to sit and watch people play that crane game, ever determined to figure out how it worked and to get that adorable little sheep. Angelos liked to collect the coins from underneath the machines, and he proudly purchased candy and pop for him and his sister with what he found. A lot of the regulars would recognize the children, but they thought little to the ‘why’ they were here. His favorites were a couple of rowdy teens who often hogged the big machine with the fake motorcycles. “Ah, fuck,” hissed one of the teens. Angelos turned, looking over to where the redhead had dismounted and was looking beneath the machine. “Did you drop the quarter?” the other asked. He was shot a glare from where the teen was trying, and failing, to fit his fingers in the small gap. So Angelos swooped in and pulled the coin out with ease. The redhead gave him a grin and ruffled his hair. “You’re a lifesaver, yo-” he paused, blinked, and then ruffled his hair some more. “Wow, your hair’s really soft. Like a lil’ cloud! Look, man. Soft!” He pulled his companion’s hand over, and Angelos giggled. “You shouldn’t go patting little kid’s hair like that, man,” he chastised but, seeing that it made Angelos happy, he obliged anyways. The redhead stuck out his tongue and settled himself back on the fake bike. While he did that, his companion turned to the child beside them. “Hey, do you have a name? Just so we know who to call next time this idiot drops another quarter?” “Hey,” the other grumbled, and nudged him with his elbow. He nudged back. They went on like this. “I’m Angelos.” “Angelos? Angelos the arcade Angel. Cute!” they said. He was surprised they’d been paying attention with their little play fight.

He left them to it.

He’d been making his rounds one day when a little fluffy thing was thrust into his face. Behind it glimmered excited blue eyes, bouncing up and down. “Look! Your friends won him for me!” Arrow said excitedly. She pulled the little sheep plush to her chest and squeezed. “Friends?” asked Angelos, confused. “Yeah, the two guys always hogging MegaRacer X? The ones who call you Angel? The-” “Yes, “ he cut her off, “I know which ones you’re talking about.” “I’m going to name him… Arrow junior? Or Firegoat? No, he’s not a goat… Um… Let’s see… Ashes the sheep? The shoop? Is sheep plural or singular?” She continued on like this, even as a patron called out for ‘Angel!’. He passed the two rowdy teens and gave them a look that said look what you’ve started’, but they were too engrossed in beating the other to notice. “Hey lil’ Angel, can you get me a pop?” asked the person who’d called for him. He’d taken to doing this for most of the patrons, and they tipped him with extra quarters, so he was happy to do it. He’d just opened the fridge when a loud noise deafened the rings and the music from the games. A few of the teens yelled curses, ran to the exit, and though the redhead stopped to look for Angelos and his sister, he was dragged off by his friend and others. Out the back. Angelos and Arrow barely heard their names over the din, but he grabbed her and ran towards the old man. With a panicked, wild gaze, he grabbed the two children and stuffed them into a cabinet. The two children held one another close, crossing their fingers. Loud footsteps. Clicking guns. A booming voice. Angelos’ hand bruised from how hard his sister held it. They didn’t need to speak, but they both knew. They weren’t afraid for each other. They were afraid for the old man who’d shown them such kindness.

“I don’t screen every teenager that comes in here. I don’t even know how you would go about doing that,” he replied calmly. That seemed to be satisfactory. The footsteps faded. The sounds returned, but this time it was obvious that they were leaving rather than coming. Angelos pulled his sister out of the cabinet and carefully through the back door. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Anywhere,” Angelos replied with a sigh, “I’m not risking getting him in trouble for our sake.”

Years later, they met those teens again. A spark of recognition flared in their eyes, and they fondly patted the still fluffy hair. “Little arcade Angel! I remember you,” said the one. “Ace,” he replied softly, “My name is Ace.”