Author's Note:

Originally written: September 7, 2016.

Revised and edited: January 13, 2017.

Revised and edited for grammar: February 23, 2018

I don't have to ask for the artist of the cover art this time. I made the art with my cruddy photoshop skills!

Their Orphanage

Nervousness.

What was nervousness again? Some kind of... Some kind of state of mind perhaps. He would have gone to find a dictionary to quench his curiosity, but he was stricken. Paralyzed. Still as water that sat in the cold. It did not matter whether he found out what nervousness truly meant, he would come to discover. There were far bigger fish to fry.

He looked around the bridge. Everyone was carrying along somewhat normally, acting as though nothing had happened. Had they seen what he had seen? Or was he going crazy? Or did he get a glimpse into the future? Either way, he was not tickled to bare witness to any of it.

"Hey!" he shouted, mindful to keep his tone deep. People would not listen to him unless he shouted in the manliest tone he could muster. It was thanks to that pitch they all looked up from whatever they did, eyeing him with their deadly gaze. He felt fury wash over him. They seemed as though they were wondering why he had his little outburst. It should be more than obvious. "Are you all just going to sit there? Do something!"

"Lieutenant Dominic," called a voice from above. A simple whip around would show him the Captain's seat. Upon it, there was the face of Jurgens. His expression alone summed up the majority of his attitude: annoyed. "Is there a problem?"

"Don't you give me that look when you're asking that question!" he growled back, raising his shoulders. "theEND was just shot out of the sky and has crash landed in the midst of the battlefield. So far, it is completely without response. Ask me that question again, Captain! Why isn't anyone doing anything? We should be retrieving theEND before it accumulates any more damage!"

As the two exchanged dirty looks, the rest of the crew turned back around, continuing with their own little thing. Just outside the window came the intimidating sounds of war. Creatures, strange creatures, swirled around the air. Most were shot down before they drew too close to the ship. As those cries of fire raged on, the two kept their angry gazes locked.

"So. Are we going to have a replay of the incident at the Coralian, Lieutenant?"

"We will if I deem it necessary."

"Watch your mouth. This is not your ship. We'll do as I say, not you. I see that it is the utmost priority to make sure the Izumo does not sustain heavy damage. It is important that all eighty-eight of my crew is alive and well by the time this wave passes. Accomplishing this task and retrieving theEND cannot be simultaneous, Lieutenant. This is no different than before."

Dominic felt the bridge of his nose wrinkle. Stiffly, he straightened the collar of his uniform, white as snow, as he worked his way up the stairs to the head of the bridge. There, he arrived at the captain's side, furrowing his brows down at the man in his seat. Unintimidated, Jurgens stared back. If anything, his eyes appeared to challenge him.

"Eighty-eight," Dominic repeated. "I know that I am technically not a crew member of your ship, but I'm confident you count me as human. Allow me to ask: what exactly do you think Anemone is?"

Jurgens' frown steepened.

"The identity of the pilot of theEND does not concern me. All I know is that she can be a bit of an irritating brat."

"That means you at least don't think of her as a replaceable thing." He leaned down, sure to intersect the man's personal space. "Don't tell me you don't feel guilty about that. Leaving a comrade down there to die."

"My order is final. Did I say we weren't getting Anemone at all? No. I told you that we are going to ride out the Coralian storm, then pick it up."

Silence rose between the two of them. When Jurgens turned back to Dominic, he found a livid expression that fought to contain a barrage of swears.

"It?" he repeated. "You do see Anemone as a thing!" His hat met the ground, a furious growl sounding from the prison of his teeth. "Whether you see her that way or not, Captain, I want you to think of how furious the Colonel will be if he finds out either Anemone or theEND were damaged under your watch. If you know what's best for yourself, you'll go down there and retrieve her."

"Second Lieutenant." Maria Schneider, the second in command, emerged from behind the captain's seat. She glared at him steadily. "The Captain has made his decision. Enough arguing."

Feeling outnumbered, the man took a step back.

"At least lure the wave away from her, dammit!" he replied. "Fly away from the battle zone. If the Coralian follow, you can jettison me to the ground. I'll relocate Anemone to an area of sanctuary while the threat is gone."

His words appeared to grasp the interest of the two. Maria and Jurgens exchanged glances. Neither of them said a word for a good while until the former finally cleared her throat.

"Well? Captain?" she whispered. "What do you think of his proposal?"

"It would be nice to have some peace and quiet without his yap here..." he responded lowly, burrowing his face in a palm. It wasn't long before he returned his gaze upon he who stood before his chair, kneeling down to retrieve his cap. "Lieutenant. Whether we lure the wave away or not, I am positive a few will stray. They'll be down there. Just one is enough to kill you, regardless of whether or not you're armed."

"I don't care," Dominic shot back. "It is my duty to make Anemone my top priority. Likewise, it is my responsibility to keep her from harm's way. She's too important for the Colonel's plan and perhaps one of the only anti-Coralian resolves we have."

Jurgens rolled his eyes.

"Clearly theEND isn't that effective if it's already been brought down." He lifted his head. "Alright then, Lieutenant. I'm going to order the ship departs from the battlefield. Once you're down there, you're on your own. If trouble rears its head at you, we aren't coming back to help until the wave is gone. Don't call us."

Thus, Dominic's boots kissed the earth. Well, before that happened, it would seem that it was first his motorbike that touched the ground. It was a rough impact, ramming down onto the dust covered road, but he was quick to fix his eyes and mind forth. Before he could take the moment to observe his surroundings, he leaned forward and revved the engine. The former battle zone, a city now laying in ruins, seemed to have prospered once. Just moments ago, the place was buzzing with life, but now it bore nothing. Not a single soul in sight. He had little time to linger, nor shiver, at such a thing to behold. He sped down the streets, followed by a linear cloud whichever way he turned. It was simple to figure out where he should go. The mammoth heap of black metal, theEND, peaked over many of the buildings, all with their shattered windows. The only problem standing in Dominic's way was navigation; the town was nothing short of a maze.

With persistence, he found himself growing ever closer, turning down street after street, corner after corner. When he began to consider planning a different approach, he finally spotted theEND's legs, both sprawled out and broken. Fearsome, he sped closer, running along the mech's sides until he reached the front. It had landed not too far from the outside of town, in the midst of a highway. On either of its sides, sparkling street lamps were bent out of shape, some even leaning against its frame. Dust coated what was once glossy metal, black as night. Certain parts had sustained scratches, even penetrations. The sight made him scowl.

Before his bike stopped, Dominic hopped off, rushing to the heap as he shed his helmet and goggles.

"Damn Coralians," he growled to himself, sprinting to the machine's face. There, he called out, "theEND!" It responded tiredly; its eyes eased open, pupils boggling about before finally steadying. They fixed themselves upon him, emotionless and cold. Naturally, Dominic approached closer, proceeding to climb his way to its back. "Open the cockpit." By the time he had reached the top, he found that it had already been opened. The sight was not a sight he could stand to behold. As expected, Anemone was there, hanging out from the control sockets, zonked out with a stream of drool running down her bottom lip. Releasing a hiss, he rushed toward her, patting her cheek upon arrival.

No response, so he pat harder. That seemed to get something, even though it was rather small. She budged just a smidgen, releasing a steady moan. He sighed then, shoulders sinking.

"theEND," he called again. An eye opened on the wall of the cockpit, leering over at him. Without a moment to spare, he began working to pull the girl from what had her confined. Each movement from him was gentle. "Contact the Izumo. Tell them I have located Anemone. She's alive, but in poor condition. More than anything, I need the Coralians away from here."

It was no lie, Anemone did not look good at all. The foremost thing he noticed was the nasty bump on her head, coated by a patch of redness. Parts of her bodysuit had torn. Beneath each slash was a gaping wound, each spilling red. Her face, most importantly, had been spared from anything serious, baring nothing but a handful of minor nicks. He quickly slid his way back down theEND's body, his boots kicking up a cloud upon beating the solid ground. Beneath the shade of its head, Dominic leaned her against the frame. Kneeling before her, he ran a hand down her cheek.

"Anemone," he called gently. "Can you hear me?" A groan was his response as she budged. This drew his tired eyes, now alert, watching as she slowly opened the eyes of her own. As if he were the sun, she shut them again, releasing a howl. The noise alarmed him, and he rushed to catch her as she began to fall to her side. Simply laying a hand on her earned him a smack to the nose. He tumbled back. Anemone landed on the ground, bellowing as her hands hid her face. Her legs curled as though she were a dying insect.

"It hurts!" she roared. "It hurts it hurts it hurts! Do something, Dominic!" Though shaken (and dealing with a red stream traveling from his nose), Dominic nodded, scrambling to his feet so he could deliver himself to the motorbike. From the passenger cart, he fished out a bag uncharacteristically tattooed by patches... Patches one normally would not expect from the military. Upon arriving back to Anemone's side, who hollered the entire time, he made attempts to soothe her as he dug around the bag's interior. At last, he fished out a case that contained a needle. All he had to do was attach a vile and he was good to go. Anemone was not too wooed to see that good ol' friend of hers; the moment she saw him with it, she gave way to an even louder cry, swiping at him when he drew too close.

"Get that thing away from me! No!"

Right on cue.

"H-Hold still, Anemone!" he grunted, lightly tackling her when he found an opening. Despite her pain, she continued to oppose him.

"No!" she urged. "I don't want it! I don't-" She stilled the moment the point violated her receptor, easing deeper inside. The vile drained itself of its redness, leaving behind an empty glass. He relaxed as she halted her struggling and steadily climbed off of her. He looked down at her face, the length of her tresses sprawled out on the dusty ground. Her eyes were dull. They stared back up at him.

"There," he breathed, adjusting his collar. "Feel better?"

"Of course not," she hissed. "I failed. I failed. Dewey's never going to forgive me for this."

"Worry about that later." He eased closer, running a careful finger over one of her many wounds. "Are you still hurting? The medicine should have helped at least a little to ease it."

Her breath deepened as she, once again, shielded her face. Slowly, she rolled back onto her side, turning her back from him.

"I'm starting to feel cold," she whispered. "Freezing."

Dominic felt a brow anchor, more so as he slid a glove off to run a hand over the sandy asphalt. Even beneath the shade of theEND, it was scorching. His eyes narrowed then, looking up at the sky thoughtfully. Blood loss. She was already entering a state of hypovolemia. Should he idle, she would more than likely slip into shock. And if that happened...

No. He would not let it happen. After yanking off the rifle strapped to his back, he shed the top of his uniform. He brought it to his teeth and began ripping it to shreds. The strips were thin, but he was more than certain they would suffice. She remained still as he began snaking it around her, covering her many wounds.

"These will hold you over for now," he breathed. "Just not for long. I need to head out into town and look for anything I can use to properly stop the bleeding, ideally some sort of gauze. Tell me if you can last for a little bit on your own. If you can't, I'll do what I can while we're here."

She shivered.

"Where's that ship at?" she growled. "Aren't they coming to pick us up?"

"Not for a while. They've lured the Coralians away from here, and they won't be back until they're gone. Until then, it's just us. We need to focus on keeping you well."

Her curl tightened upon receiving the news, breath laboring.

"Do whatever you need. Just... Just make it quick. I'm getting... dizzy."

He rose to his feet then, looking down at her form with hardened eyes.

"I'll be back, then," he said, tucking his exposed undershirt into his pants. "No matter what, I need you to stay awake. If we're lucky, I'll be back with some supplies and food." With that, he turned around, prepared to make his way back over to the motorbike... But instead he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widened with terror. A giant creature hovered before them, gazing with its single, but large, eye. Small tentacles sprouted from its round body, wiggling freely in the air. As it swam closer to them, its magenta pupil shrunk. "Dammit!" he hissed, scrambling to the ground to snatch the rifle he had thrown to the side. Armed, he dug into his pocket until he yanked out a shiny bullet. He knew it would be useless, but he loaded the gun anyway, prepared to take aim. A simple, but trembling, pull of the trigger gave way to a bang, a small cloud of smoke rising from the mouth of his rifle. Left behind, though, was that same Coralian, completely unscathed. He stumbled back, muttering a few swears more as his fingers returned to his pocket for another bullet. By the time he loaded a second shot, though, he stopped, lowering his aim. theEND's massive hand reached out, heading for the beast. The monster was crushed like a grape, and it became nothing but parts oozing on the ground. Dominic, quivering, heaved a sigh, threatening to collapse. With his mouth gaping open, he breathed, feeling beads of sweat slip down the front of his mouth, dripping to the ground. Both the heat and fear were worthy suspects for making his head so dreadfully wet. When he ran a palm over his forehead, he would find it covered in stickiness. Slowly, with his face as stern as always, he turned around, looking up at the face of theEND. It looked down at him with its emotionless, eerie eyes as it returned its hand to the ground. Dominic said little, motioning only with a subtle nod as he made his way to his motorbike. He climbed aboard, fixing his helmet and goggles. "Watch over her for now." He revved the engine, prepared to speed off into the heatwaves that led to the city.

As expected, the city was just as empty as he left it. His first interest was finding some sort of settlement he could raid. A house or an apartment would most certainly do, but when it came to big cities, Dominic was utterly clueless. Never had he lived in a city, and he seldom visited any. Even when he was a child, he recalled, he lived in a small, self sustaining suburb. It was nowhere close to the size of a city, and he had no idea as to what certain buildings were. Any signs that would indicate otherwise had been destroyed or masked by dust. This, unfortunately, left him with no choice but to speed around and hope he was lucky when he chose a random building. He decided the superior place to embark his search would be inside one of the countless buildings he came across. Though it stood nowhere close to decent shape, it was not nearly as dilapidated as the rest of the city. His entrance would be gained by the butt of his rifle, which he rammed against the lock. It posed as no challenge, giving way just a few beats in. Upon intruding, completely uninvited, he held his weapon protectively, scouting the room and all its nooks and crannies before finally beginning to rummage.

The building was the wrong choice. It was an office of some sort, as testified the room full of desks. Papers lay scattered across the floor, likely thrown there in the midst of panic. He lingered little on it, but he could only imagine the terror of those who rushed in or out of such a place, chased by creatures that were bound by no physical law. His mind was fixed on far more important things. After all, like always, he had far bigger fish to fry. To be specific, he'd say he was dealing with a rather lofty bass... maybe salmon if he wasn't in the mood for bass... No. Anemone wasn't a fish. An anemone was a type of flower. In that case, Dominic should instead consider his duties as "far bigger flowers to pick".

Dominic departed from the office empty-handed, and he returned to his bike. Hurried, he drove down a few streets more, his cold attentive gaze scanning for buildings he assumed would not collapse under him. The deeper he drew into the city, the less he found success. However, as he worked his way toward the outskirts, nearing the other end, he began finding buildings that catered more to his liking. Small houses, crafted from fresh brick, stood in rows, lining the streets for what seemed like miles, carrying on into the horizon plagued in heatwaves. He chose the first one that was not covered in holes, pulling up in the drive way. The same process as earlier allowed him inside.

The home, for the most part, was still intact, with only a few things turned over such as a vase or a chair here and there. It was small, but it sufficed... save for the awful stench that grew stronger as he crawled deeper into its walls. Dominic knew that scent: it was death. He did not know if he would run into any bodies, but he knew for a fact that he, being rather weak in the stomach, was in no mood to go out of his way so he could. Instead, he reared his head where the scent was the least in the kitchen. He violated the pantry there, pulling out a few things that would be worthy of eating and a canister he filled with water. Mindfulness reminded him to grab something with sugar such as the box of cubes he discovered in a cupboard. A simple trip outside had him deliver his goods to the passenger cart on his bike. While outside, he took a whiff of the sweet, sweet air that was clean, not plagued by death. When he returned inside, this time heading for the bedrooms, he would be dismayed to find that dreaded scent strengthened. Each time he opened a door, he was prejudice, sure to stick his nose inside first. The foremost room he entered favored him, for it was empty, save for the furniture strewn across the room. With no time to spare, he yanked a quilt off of a bed, stole a pillow, and then proceeded to dig inside a cabinet, hoping to find medical supplies. No luck in there, so he moved on to the next room. In there, the scent was the worst. He knew of what he might find. He walked inside, keeping the field of his vision narrow. There lay something against the wall. He knew what it was, and he was not interested in seeing if he was mistaken. Instead, he went for what he came for: another cabinet he pried open. In there, to his fortune, he found exactly what he needed: a lightly used first-aid kit. He snatched if without a second thought and, after a brief inventory, retrieved the rest of his collection. Swiftly, he made his way back out of the dwelling.

A quick scan of his surroundings of the outside would tell him he was still alone. It was a good thing, for any moment now, he was always fearing, he could run into another stray Coralian. Or, rather, another stray Coralian could run into him. Such a fear was all the reason he needed to throw the rest of his gatherings in the cart and climb back on his bike, both quicker than normal. He sped off, hastily rushing back to theEND's fallen body. Even on the opposite side of the desolate city, he could see the tip of its cockpit penetrating the clear blue sky. Like the first time he made his way back to where he intended, navigation would prove enemy to him, this time in a relatively worse fashion. As he rode down the streets, making his way into the dense heart, he saw an edifice in the distance start to crumble, shaking the ground in its glorious fall. Dominic's face hardened. Not good. The culprit was either the wind or someone else. Being familiar with patterns, he could best assume the latter.

Upon arriving to the crash site, a tad later than he would have liked, he found everything exactly as he left it. theEND remained on its front, holding its head over a resting Anemone. She was still on the ground, curled up. Why... It almost looked as though she had not budged an inch.

"Anemone." He leapt off his bike the moment it came to a halt. Kneeling at her side, he took her shoulders into his arms, gently pulling her up. She was loose, submissive in response to his motions. Her eyes were shut, mouth gaping open a crack. Only subtle breaths left her mouth. He shook her briefly, beginning to quake. "Anemone, I need you to wake up. Didn't I tell you not to fall asleep? Come on... Please open your eyes."

"Easier said than done," she rasped, her gaze parting slightly. "You took too long."

Mildly relieved, his shoulders sunk, and he heaved a breath.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Houses were on the other side of town. Let me get you what I brought." After setting her down, he quickly returned to the bike, this time returning with his loot. There, on the ground, he constructed a crude pallet. He set her limp body upon the quilt, running his finger over the makeshift bandages over her wounds. The material from his uniform was a terribly bad absorber; her blood already seeped through it and began to travel other places.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't want to answer that."

Dominic sat still, awkwardly gazing at her with a subtle frown. He eyed away to the side and removed a loaf of bread from a bag, which he proceeded to pull apart. A taste test told him that it hadn't gone stale. Not yet. It was edible, so he handed a chunk to his patient, who took it weakly with her hand. While she was occupied, nibbling quietly on her meal, he proceeded to remove the worn bandages, sure to be gentle.

"And while I was gone? Did anything happen?" With no voice, Anemone simply shook her head. "I suppose nothing's better than something bad. That's reassuring."

"That ship called," Anemone murmured suddenly, chewing on the last bit of her bread. "They said they were having difficulties. Guess that means we're stuck here."

Dominic frowned, opening the box of sugar cubes, one of which he handed to her. Though prejudice at first, she took it.

"I think we'll be okay for now, but I can only sustain you for so long. What you need most is the attention of a professional."

"I don't care about what happens to me." She curled tighter again. "Why don't you do me a favor and leave me to die."

"Stop talking like that." He handed her the full canister. "Don't you realize what you're saying? You're acting like you'd have nobody you'd leave behind."

"I wouldn't."

"Yes you would."

"Name someone."

He paused, easing his gaze up to the sky. A cloud observed from a distance. It was a humble cloud, small and white, mingling with the blue of the sky. It seemed to be the source of a breeze the kicked its way past them, ruffling the tips of their hair. Before he became too engrossed in the sight, he averted his eyes, heaving a sigh.

"Gulliver, for one. He wouldn't know what to do without you."

"Someone else."

"Myself as well," he blurted. The words spilled out of his mouth, free from his control like vomit. At first he didn't even know he had said anything, but the more he lingered on it, he flushed, his eyes widening.

Oops. Did he really just say that?

"You'd do fine without me. You wouldn't have to worry about so much. And I wouldn't care what you do with Gulliver. You can keep him or give him up for adoption. Just don't release him in the wild. He'll get eaten."

Dominic sighed. He could tell her some other things, but now was just not the time and here was just not the place. If anything, telling her would be the worst on him. If she got mad as a result of the things he would say, or, even worse, reject them... Well, it would be an awkward while, sitting beneath theEND, waiting for the Izumo to come soaring over them. If he knew what was best for himself, he'd shut up. Luckily, for once, Dominic did know and do what was ultimately best for himself. The two spent their time doing nothing that required too much of exhausting work. Dominic, while watching a resting Anemone, munched on a few pieces of bread. It was bland as cardboard, but it was something. When stranded outside a desolated city, just something held quite the value. theEND did little besides lay where it was, never daring to bother trying to move on its own... not that it looked like it was in any shape to do anything for that matter.

When he did not watch Anemone, Dominic was up and about, constantly surveying for impending danger. Nothing showed its face for a while, but that was where the good things ended. When he began to consider contacting the Izumo again, his eyes met the deep blue of the sky. He slipped into a trance then, enticed by the endlessness of an ocean. He should have been more attentive.

"You soldiers have no respect," muttered a voice. Dominic jumped, scrambling to his feet as he snatched the rifle at his side. He snarled then, holding his weapon threateningly. As he expected, it was not Anemone who had spoken. The voice was too deep to be hers. No, this was the voice of a man.

A man he found behind him, approaching ever so slowly. Ten feet became nine, and nine became eight. The pattern continued until he was deathly near. He stopped only because Dominic finally barked at him.

"Hey!" he motioned with the mouth of his rifle. "You are not permitted to approach here!"

"Who're you, stranger?" the man inquired. His looks alone were enough to unsettle his observer. His pupils, swimming in the light blue of his irises, were miniscule. His clothes, tattered, were on the brink of ruin, covered in soot and dust. Certain places where hair should be were bald. A few open wounds were blackened by clots. His feet, baring no shoes, were covered in cuts.

"I am Second Lieutenant Dominic Sorel of The United Federation of Predgio Towers. By military command, I cannot permit you to draw any closer. If you plan to stay, you are required to surrender any weapons. Any actions that contradict my orders will result in hostility. I don't bluff."

"You're a soulless man," the other wheezed. "You violated the grave of my wife and child. They were all I had, and yet you had the audacity to go inside and take whatever you pleased. I can't let you get away with that."

He felt his frown arch, his neck stiffening.

"I beg your pardon. I was in need of supplies."

"Give them back," the man rasped. "Give them back you thieving rat. If you have a soul in that body of yours, you'll return what you took. Everything that was in that house was theirs. Don't tread on the sacredness of the dead."

Dominic continued to frown, narrowing his eyes. Ever so slowly, without taking his eyes, or aim, from the stranger, he slowly made his way to where Anemone lay. With the inside of his foot, he pushed the first aid kit closed, then kicked it over to him. It glided across the ground, arriving just a little ways away from his toes.

"I'm done with that," Dominic grumbled, "so I won't be needing it anymore."

"That's not all you took. That blanket your fellow soldier is laying on, it was a quilt my mother-in-law made while my wife was pregnant. It belongs to my daughter."

"I'm not giving that back yet. Same for the pillow. We need it more than you do."

"Like you have the right to decide who needs it!" the man howled. "If it isn't yours, it isn't yours! You aren't the one who's lost everything, you bastard. Your kind is the reason why my family is dead! If the military hadn't disrupted those beast, none of this would have happened! You can't just come waltzing down here after that, doing whatever the hell you want, taking whatever the hell you want, going wherever the hell you want!" He started to approach them again. The moment he took another step closer, Dominic's grip on his weapon tightened.

"Sir!" He set a finger on the trigger. "I'm giving you a second warning! Stay back or I'll shoot!"

"You probably don't have the guts," the man replied. "Go on. Shoot me. What do I have left to live for? I don't care. I won't have to be the one who has to live on, remembering ten years later that I slaughtered an empty man over a blanket I didn't need." Their eyes locked the moment he pressed against the mouth of his rifle, driving it into his chest. The man stood still then, his cold eyes delving into the gray of the other's.

"This is your last chance," Dominic warned, his voice thickening.

"Shoot, son."

What the man did not know was that Dominic hesitated. In a way, the man was right. He did not have the guts to shoot. It
was not just because he was a humane soul. He saw something in that man's eyes. They were the eyes of someone standing in the wake of desolation, alone, having nothing to run to and nothing to fight for. One who had lost everything that was dear, his life shattering before his very eyes, gone in a matter of an instant. Whether he liked to admit it or not, Dominic saw someone that was no different than himself in that man. He saw a reflection of a child standing in the midst of rubble. Black hair. Gray irises. His eyes dull. Wondering.

The stare down did not last long; from behind, a quilt flew in the air, landing at the stranger's side. As though it were the blanket's best friend, the pillow soon followed.

"If it means that much to you, keep the stupid thing," Anemone grumbled, arriving at Dominic side. "Take the fact that you're the only one in the family that's alive as good luck. Be happy your wife and daughter aren't the ones who survived."

The man froze, quivering in his breath. He looked down at the quilt at his feet, crumpled up and covered in dust. He blinked then, but when his eye lids rose, his pupils burned with fury.

"You're saying..." he began slowly, "that I should be happy my family is dead?"

"Pretty much."

The man shook, hiding his face. The more Dominic observed, the more he was sure he knew what was coming. The man quivered with rage. With rage, there was sure to come wrath.

"You brat. You must have... had everything in life given to you. You take everything for granted. I can hear it in the tone of your voice. You... You damned..." His head rose, and he leaned forward, his fist born. He screamed then, homing for the girl, building all the power left in his weakened muscles. He did not get far, though. Before he could do so much as graze Anemone, the gun fired. Crimson leaked from the man shoulder, and he stumbled back, gripping his wound. His hand was covered soon, his shirt completely ruined. He gasped and cringed before finally releasing a shout, shutting his eyes in pain. "You bastard!"

"I gave you a warning!" Dominic roared, stepping in front of the man's target. In the meantime, his fingers darted to his pocket, returning with another bullet. "You have what you want. Leave before I decide to shoot you again, and don't even think about coming back."

The man backed away an inch, hunched over. He heaved, gulping painfully hard. In doing so, he knelt down, retrieving the blanket from the ground with is free hand. He bundled it beneath his arm. Slowly, then, he proceeded to back away, mustering the nastiest glare for Anemone.

"You'll both burn in Hell," he hissed. "I swear on my grave you will." He went his way, turning away and walking into the land of heatwaves. Dominic maintained his aim for a long while, stiff as a board and shivering. When he finally did lower his weapon, he turned around, where he found Anemone was still behind him. Her expression was grim, and it remained that way when he met her.

"I guess that man doesn't know what the military does when they get their hands on war orphans," she mused.

Dominic frowned again, eyeing to the ground.

"Guess not," he agreed.

He watched as she turned away, striding back to theEND. Hesitantly, he decided to follow, listening as she cleared her throat.

"Hey," she called. "It's a lot more comfortable in the cockpit. Pick me up and take me there..." She turned her head to the ground, following with a whisper. "Please..."

As he slung the strap of the rifle around his shoulder again, Dominic nodded subtly.

"Of course," he replied, approaching her. He carried her like a bride, scaling theEND to reach its cockpit. When they did arrive, he set her down gently, watching as the lid slowly closed on them, hiding them from the sun.

They were confined into darkness, listening to the ringing of silence. It was obvious that it was on both of their minds, but neither of them bothered to talk about a certain town. It was a town far away, laying as nothing but rubble. Neither of them remembered exactly what it was called, but they knew that pile of rubble well. They were there. Small. Watching the fire burn. Watching the ashes float to the ground. Watching the aftermath of a bloody war.

And wondering.