AN: Well look at this, I'm not dead yet. I think I've just signed my name in Death's book, though, 'cause I stared another story. Same update day as last time, I suppose.
Also, listening to the song Radioactive by Imagine Dragons might just enhance your experiance just a bit. Just a tiny bit.
Enjoy~
A thick cloud of dust trailed behind a bus covered in rattling metal plates and grating. A head of dark hair rested against a clouded window that drooped on one side, the thick air swirling over curly hair. Dull green eyes stared listlessly at the patched seat in front of him. The body was jarred by a bump on the old road causing his cuffed wrists to bounce against his lap. The body next to him sat in a similar fashion; wrists cuffed, eyes glazed over in a highly drugged stupor, body slumped into the rough seat.
Gusting wind broke through the tilted window, stirring the curls atop the boy's head. At the disturbance, his eyes shifted. They grew wide and the dark ring around them glowed, the pulsing light gliding through his entire iris. Without blinking, his eyes swiveled around in complete circles and undulated in every direction. They twitched nervously, scanning his surroundings while his body was still, if not slightly tense.
The boy next to him started from his narcosis, jolting rigid in his seat. A few rough seeming men turned from their chairs, light glinting from their tinted gas masks, hiding black eyes and weathered faces. They murmured quite words to each other, the one on the inside flipping a switch on the ceiling. An opaque gas hissed through rusted vents resting just above the windows. The green eyed boy tried to hold his breath, to block his lungs from the rude, gaseous substance trying to rot his body from the inside.
He failed, lungs dragging in a loud breath of the toxic air, searing the tender flesh of his throat. His eyes clouded, head lolling about from side to side, lips drooping. The gas dissipated and the bus came to a jagged stop, the inertia of the boy's body slamming him mercilessly against the dark red and orange seat before him. The boy sitting adjacent to him was grabbed unceremoniously by the arm and dragged up, the dark haired boy treated in the same way.
They were prodded by the barrels on long guns, lifeless bodies walking slowly towards the exit of the bus. Their each step made the struggling bus shake and quiver as if it was to collapse on its wheels and never roll again. As the dark haired boy stepped from the high stairs of the bus and onto the sand covered ground, he took in a deep, silent breath of clear air. His eyes cleared for a moment and he seized his chance.
He walked by a guard, slamming his right elbow into the man's stomach with an animalistic cry. The loud noise woke the others around him, each body scrambling over the other. Some fought against their captors; others who were free of the guards' grasps ran to the dunes rolling in the distance. The green eyed boy fisted his hands together and swung them like a mallet into the guard's temple, the masked man spinning on his heal and dropping like a stone.
"Trash," snarled the guard donning the mask. Green eyes glared at him and the boy spat on the man's fallen body. He turned and followed the others in suit towards the dunes while struggling against the metal links of the cuffs. They dug deep into his flesh then snapped, his right arm flying out to the side. His left wrist stained red and dripped into the sand while his right glinted in the glaring sun with a metallic shine. He lifted his feet high out of the sand, running blindly towards any mirage that shriveled in the dry heat.
"Hey, Lovino, what's that thing over there," asked Feliciano, pulling his rusted binoculars from his eyes to look up at his brother, Lovino, resting atop of the sand covered building. Lovino lifted the scope of his beloved rifle to his eye, quickly scanning the horizon and locking onto the dark speck in the distance. He could make out a black shirt and beige pants that almost blended into the hot sand. He lowered the scope and shook his head.
"Probably some poor Integral bastard whose car crashed off the road back that way," said Lovino as he jabbed his finger over his shoulder. Feliciano let the looking glasses dangle around his neck as he climbed the ladder to join his brother on the roof. He lifted the high powered lenses to his eyes once again, the figure a bit closer than before. He studied it meticulously, watching the way its body swayed in the stark heat. A queer flash of light caught his eye and he zoomed in as much as the ancient looking glasses could on the stumbling being.
"Lovino," Feliciano gasped, "Oh! Lovino!" He dropped the binoculars and took his startled brother by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth.
"What? What is it," Lovino yelled, jerking from his brother's grasp. Feliciano smiled wide and pointed at the slowly approaching figure.
"I think he be one of us, I think he be!" Lovino quirked a brow at his enthusiastic brother but lifted the scope back up to his dark olive eye, closing the glowing orange one. He locked on the form bumbling through the sand and scanned his body for any metal bits shining in the sun. As the boy lifted his arm above his head in a vain attempt to shield his eyes from the cruel sun, Lovino spotted the dull glare of well used metal.
Lovino dropped his gun and leapt off of the roof, calling shot gun in the Runner, tossing his brother the keys while in the air. Feliciano hopped into the driver's seat and made the beautiful engine roar like the great lioness it was. Simultaneously, the brothers lowered metal goggles over their eyes; one glass disk in Lovino's held a crack that distorted his vision in his orange eye. Lovino stood in the side seat, upper body sticking above the naked metal cage of the Runner.
Feliciano released the brake and they took off at a break neck speed. Dust was kicked up behind them in a great maelstrom. They came up quickly on the stumbling boy, Feliciano with a horrendously huge grin and Lovino with an armed shotgun resting over his shoulder.
The green eyed boy stared with wide, burning eyes at the vehicle approaching him from afar. He wrapped his fingers around his neck and he squinted the pulsating hues in his head. The four wheeled monster circled around him and stopped abruptly, tilting on two of its side wheels then slamming back down onto the ground. The driver lifted himself up to stand above the caging of the large vehicle, leaning on the hot metal. A boy with dusted brown hair swung out of the passenger seat and landed with the grace of an angel on the rough ground, haphazardly thrusting a worn gun barrel towards the green eyed boy.
"Name," barked the sandy boy with the gun as he used his free hand to lift his goggles. The boy with the green eyes pulled his hands from his neck and used them to hide his face. He stumbled nervously over the syllables of his name like a fool. The dusty haired boy narrowed his dyadic colored eyes.
"Name, now," repeated the boy with the gun, raising the barrel and pressing the butt of it to his shoulder to aim it properly. At the end of the barrel, the boy was rigid, the green of his eyes throbbing in fear. He shook his head and patted his cheeks, earning him a perplexed stare.
"Antonio," yelled the boy, head still shaking, "I'm Antonio! Please, don't shoot me!" He then pressed his palms into his cheeks and put his head down, staring with quivering eyes at the ground.
"Oi, Antonio," Antonio lifted his head, "You a Scrappy?" Antonio looked at him with his brows drawn together. The gunner sighed, tapping his finger under his bright orange eye.
"Are you Scrap Metal?" Antonio flinched, the words stabbing him in a familiar wound. He nodded while worrying his lower lip with his teeth. He lifted his right arm and used the fingers of his left to grasp the flap of skin dangling from the top of his wrist. Pulling the stretchy covering down, he slowly revealed the grinding metal gears that his arm was comprised of.
Antonio flexed the metal fingers then curled them into a fist. He looked back to the boy with the gun that now rested at his side and aimed towards the ground. The boy slung the gun over his shoulder and rested his other hand on his waist. The heel of his boot dug into the ground and he jerked his head back towards the vehicle. Antonio walked cautiously up to the purring machine and pulled him self up with ease.
"Name's Lovino," said the gun wielder, pulling himself into the seat. He turned in the chair, the cushioning spewing from deep lacerations in the covering. Lovino stared at Antonio for a moment, eyes narrowed and calculating. Antonio gave him a grateful smile which caused Lovino to scoff and turn back around in his seat, lowering his goggles and yelling for the driver to go.
Antonio sat on an old couch that smelt of urine and old woman's perfume, waiting obediently on Lovino to return with a change of clothing and, Antonio hoped, a drink of water. He watched the few other people in the room amble about and chat quietly with each other. Some of them shot him wary glances over their shoulders while others ignored him completely. Again, he gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes darting around in their sockets trying to examine and store every detail of the room in his mind.
Antonio's fleshy fingers plucked at the strings that splayed from the seams of the cushions. A pang stabbed between his eyes, making a grunt escape his lips. He pushed his fingers into his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. Lights flashed behind his eyes, each brilliant burst accompanied by pain that dug deep into his Medulla and travelled through his spine. His back arched at the intrusive pain, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent gasp.
The people in the room spared him no more than a glance from the corner of their eyes, all to desensitized to physical suffering. As Antonio tried desperately to drag air into his lungs, Lovino strode back into the room with clothes draped over his shoulder and a canteen of water dangling from his wrist. He clucked his tongue at the sight of Antonio writhing on the couch and sat next to the boy.
"You got major drugged, didn't you," asked Lovino as he pushed the canteen against Antonio's lips. The water invaded Antonio's gaping mouth, causing him to sputter and splash the liquid down his chin and onto his shirt. Lovino made a displeased grunting noise, grabbing the choking boy by the hair at the nape of his neck to keep his head still.
"Drink the damn water, you'll feel better," growled Lovino, pushing the canteen back to the curly haired boy's lips. Antonio tried to get the water down his throat, hoping to get rid of the terrible pain. His lips trembled and his cheeks swelled with the liquid. He gulped it down loudly and coughed, turning to Lovino and showing him a large smile.
Lovino looked at the boy whose eyes watered and chest heaved while he smiled like an idiot. Antonio thumped his chest, grin still stretching his lips. Lovino shook his head at the strange boy but was all too aware of the small twitch upwards the corners of his mouth made. He then fell back into the aged couch which produced a large could of dust. With his arms resting on the back of the couch and ankle resting on his opposite knee, Lovino gave Antonio a hard look.
"So, you got caught by some Integrals?" Antonio nodded while a hand rubbed at the back of his head. He took another sip of water then recapped the canteen, handing the container back to Lovino. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
"Keep it. We all have one of our own. Don't want to pass any bugs 'round," said Lovino as he shook sand from his hair. Antonio shrugged, sitting the canteen next to him.
"So, Mr. Antonio," began Lovino, head cocked back against the seat, "Where'd that beaut come from?" Antonio pointed to his metal arm, and Lovino nodded. The green eyed boy rasised his shoulders in thought.
"When I was working at Factory a fe-" Lovino jerked upright in his seat and every chatting voice in the room died. Antonio furrowed his brows together.
"You worked in Factory," asked Lovino slowly. Antonio bobbed his head nervously. Lovino stood from the dingy couch and began to pace while murmuring curses that made the confused Antonio blush. A man with blonde hair from the other side of the room marched over to the pair and stood with an imposing shadow over Antonio.
"Do you know where they put your chip," asked the tall man, icy blue eyes hard and authoritive. Antonio lifted his left arm and bent his hand back, exposing the faint square bulging slightly from his caramel skin.
"It was in the right one before the accident. They had to put a new one in."
"Shit," whispered the blonde man, "Lovino, either get this boy out of here, or get that thing out of his arm!" Antonio jumped up from his seat, the sudden action startling the two standing people. Lovino grabbed Antonio's wrist and dragged him through a door, all the while cursing the boy's name and his mother's as well.
"You're making things so difficult for me, you tall ass bastard. You best count yourself lucky that I'm so nice," Lovino fumed, grabbing a rusted knife from a counter against the wall. He whipped it against khaki shorts, ignoring the rapid protests spewing from Antonio's mouth.
Lovino dug the tip of the knife just under the bottom of the chip, then forced it under the piece of technology. A sharp cry escaped Antonio's lips, which sent an unfamiliar pang to Lovino's chest. He pulled the knife quickly from the whining boy's wrist, the little square popping out from the small slit. It landed on the floor and made sincere friends with the bottom of Lovino's boot.
"Why," Antonio panted, grabbing his bleeding wrist to arrest the blood, "Why did you have… Have to do that?" Lovino shifted his eyes around the room and, although the room was completely devoid of people, he leaned in closer to Antonio, who did the same.
"We're planning a revolution, ersatz boy, and if we get caught, we all die." Lovino grabbed Antonio's arm while ripping a strip of fabric from the boy's black shirt. He tied it around the weeping wound and pulled the knot roughly tight, to which Antonio grunted.
"Even you."