Gilbert awoke to the sound of gunshots and shattering of glass. He quickly shot up, frantically looking around for the source of the sound. The ringing of the gunshots echoed throughout the car. Pieces of glass and bullet shells scattered all over the ground. Gilbert, panicked, attempted back away to the edge of his seat. Palms clammy, shallow breathing, Gilbert had to bite his tongue to keep himself from screaming. A thousand thoughts circled in his brain, his chest began to tighten up, and beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. He desperately pressed his hands against his ears to mute out the sound. This couldn't be happening.
The man had heard of mob fights taking place in his neighborhood in the news but in a parking lot? That was just unheard of. Bullets showered down on his last remaining window, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces. A piece of glass flew through the air, barely grazing his cheek. Gilbert felt the blood dripping down his face from his stinging wound. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled up into a fetal position. He was terrified.
'I can't die here,' he internally cried. There were too many things he had yet to do, too many places he'd yet to see, people that he wanted to meet, and most importantly he had promised Ludwig that they would meet again. He couldn't go like this, he couldn't just die!
Breathe
Gilbert's whole train of thought came to a screeching halt.
Come on Gilbert, just like did before, a warm silky voice echoed through his head. In for four…
The voice was so familiar. He remembered a young woman rubbing circles on his back. A young boy curled up into a ball, whimpering. That was years ago, but he could remember that voice clearly. Gilbert couldn't help but hesitantly compiled. Attempting to steady his breath, Gilbert blew out all the air in his lungs. He took a deep breath in for four seconds.
Hold it in for seven seconds.
He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat overpowering the firing of gunshots.
Breathe out for eight…
A steady stream of warm air escaped from his lips. He could hear the thumping of his heart start to steady. His mind continued to be a whirlwind of chaos, but it started to calm ever so slightly.
Repeat
Gilbert repeated the process several times as the fighting and possible murder was happening all around him. His mind became more clear as the oxygen flowed more calmly into in brain. The panicked voices in his head began to settle down, being replaced by much more calmer thoughts. He slowly opened his eyes and uncurled himself. Gilbert's breath hitched when another bullet fired through his broken window. He tried to block out the sounds while grabbing his duffle bag.
The duffle bag easily slipped down the car floor. Gilbert dusted off the pieces of glass, cutting his fingers in the process. He winced but continued. Holding his breath, Gilbert slowly opened unzipped his bag silently. Much to his relief the zipper barely made a sound. He began to remove items from his bag. First, he discarded a few articles of clothing he didn't need. He left maybe just one shirt, a pair of pants, and a black hoodie. He could just wash the clothes that he was wearing and switch between the sets. Then he took out all the food. He could just buy some more, those will slow him down. He continued to remove item after item from his duffle bag, carefully putting them next to the bag. Once he finished, all that was left was a toothbrush, one set of clothing, and a wallet. He was just about to zip it up when he noticed his stuffed bird lying on the ground. He looked from his bag to the bird.
'I need to prioritize,' he thought, attempting to tear his eyes away from the bird.
He needed to give it up one day. It was just a stuffed bird, nothing special. He was an adult, he couldn't just carry it around with him everywhere...but,
He remembered that woman again, the one with a voice that could make a grown man melt. The woman who helped him out in his times of panic. The woman who took pity on him. The woman who took him in. He could picture those delicate blue eyes, not looking down on him but leveled, staring directly into his eyes. Her laugh that could liven up the house.
Mom
Gilbert gritted his teeth. He snatched up the bird and stuffed it in his bag. He would let go of it eventually, just not today. He zipped up his bag and quietly unlocked the car door. He was going to make a run for it. He saw most of the bullets enter in from the left side of his car. If he was lucky, he could outrun the people on the right side of his car and escape this battleground. He pressed his back against the door, ducking so he wouldn't be seen through the shattered window. Waiting for the opportunity to escape, Gilbert froze. Two hushed voices were exchanging whispers right in front of his car.
"Are you sure this is it?" Gilbert could just barely hear the voice. It was a very masculine voice. He could also detect a hint of an accent. French maybe, Gilbert couldn't tell from this distance.
"Yes I'm sure," another voice snapped. A female, Gilbert noted. "I've checked the license plate twice already."
The man let out a sigh. "I'm not sure about this mon cheri," he started, "he's just so young."
"What are you talking about? You registered when you were fifteen, and don't call me your dear!"
"I knew exactly what I was getting myself into," he protested, "this guy, he just got kicked out, does the chairman have no soul."
Gilbert couldn't hear her response and frankly, at this point, he didn't want to. Were they just talking him? That couldn't be it. Gilbert frantically shook his head, as if he were trying to shake away the thoughts. He had to get out of here.
He gripped the door handle, hand trembling. One mistake could cost him his life, this was it. Then suddenly Another round of gunshots were heard and then they stopped. Through cracked windows of his car, he saw smoke rise into the car. 'They didn't bomb them did they?' Gilbert questioned, but he mentally kicked himself.
There was no explosion. This was the perfect time to get out. The smoke should mask his presence. He grabbed his bag and opened the car door as quietly as he could. Unfortunately, he wasn't quiet enough.
"Well, at least we didn't have to break in."
Gilbert stood face to face with two masked figured.
The woman hit the man upside his head. "Is that what's most important here?" she hissed.
The man flinched. "Ow, what was that for, you barbaric woman!" he whined.
"For not prioritizing."
Unbeknownst to the bickering couple, Gilbert stood there in front of them, paler than he thought was possible. He stepped a few steps back as if hiding back inside the car would do anything. A loud bang snapped the two out of their arguing. The woman cursed under her breath. Gilbert felt a jolt as she grabbed his wrist. He quickly pulled his arm to his chest making the woman lose her grip.
"What….what do you want with me?" He stammered, finally getting a word out.
The woman growled in annoyance. "Are you kidding me?"
"Mon Cheri, please," the man snapped, reeling the woman in, he shot Gilbert an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about my partner, she is...always like this." He admitted. "But, I do believe you might want to come with us."
"No-"
Gilbert heard a crash behind him and the man cursed.
"If you want to live, come with us!" the woman yelled, "The smoke screen is starting to fade."
The woman was right. The smoke screen started to lift up. Gilbert could see the silhouettes of people on the other side of his car. Mindless shooting surrounded their area, bullets lodged themselves into cars, and the noise was deafening. He needed to make a decision. Gilbert's eyes darted from the two people and the other side of the car. If he stayed he would die, if he left with the two strangers he didn't know what would happen to him. He didn't know, he just didn't know. He felt the panic start to rise back up. He shut his eyes tightly.
Breathe, Breathe
"Oh for goodness sakes!"
The woman grabbed his wrist once more. Gilbert didn't even have time to shake it off. She started running at inhuman speeds, dragging Gilbert behind her. Gilbert struggled to keep up. His body was moving faster than his feet. He constantly felt as if his legs were going to give up on him, but they continued to move. His chest tightened with every gulp of air. He flinched at every gunshot. His heartbeat was ringing in his ears. The wind stung his eyes, but he didn't care. The only thing going through his head was, 'I need to survive.'
The man was right beside him, constantly looking over his shoulder. Bullets were still being fired from a distance. Gilbert managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind him. The smoke, that managed to keep them safe, had already been lifted. A group of figures was already hot on their trail. The man let out a string of curses. Slowing down, he pulled out a handgun.
"Go on ahead!" he yelled in between breaths, "I'll hold them off." His words were followed by a yelp. Gilbert turned around to see that man nursing a bloody shoulder.
The woman, for the first time, looked back. Her pace slowed down, enough for Gilbert to catch a quick breath. The woman tightened her grip, causing Gilbert to wince. "No need," She called back, taking something out of her belt.
Gilbert noticed, in her palm, rested a tiny circular item. She halted to a stop, her breathing labored. She took one look at figures then threw the circular object. Gilbert quickly brought his arm up to his face in an attempt to shield it, however, the woman looked unfazed. The second the ball hit the ground, the woman started running. From the corner of his eye, he could see a sea of smoke erupt from the ball. The man had shot a couple of rounds before limping after them.
Gilbert's legs felt like they were lead, but adrenaline pumped through his veins, keeping him from collapsing. The woman turned to a corner, where two tall building loomed over them. She continued to sprint until the reached a dead end. She let go of Gilbert and leaned up against one of the concrete walls, breathing heavily. The man followed in suit, pressing his hand against his shoulder. Gilbert doubled over, coughing. His legs his buckling, his lungs were on fire, and his head was pounding.
"You alright there, Paris?" The woman asked. Her voice raspy from exhaustion.
The man, Paris looked at his shoulder. A dark liquid had seeped through his clothing and made its way on to his hand. "I'll survive," he simply replied. He turned to Gilbert and asked, "what about you?"
Gilbert looked up at them, wide-eyed and terrified, not being able to find any words. He didn't understand, no he couldn't fathom to understand what was going on. He couldn't trust these two. They could be leading him to a slaughterhouse for all he knew, but what could he do? It wasn't like he could just run out of there. At the end of that alleyway were people who wanted him dead. He didn't even know why. A sinking feeling of despair and paranoia began to enlarge within.
"What- what is going on," He managed to spit out. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, due to the exhaustion and fear that laced his word. "Who… the hell are you?"
Paris began to approach him, almost sympathetically. He reached out his arm toward Gilbert, attempting to clasp it on his shoulder. "Mon ami, we are-"
Gilbert slapped his hand away instantly. He began to back away, helplessly, until his back was pressed against the wall. He was paler than he thought possible. "Don't touch me," He hissed.
He had to get, he had to get back. He promised.
Pulling back his hand, Paris almost looked hurt. "I'm...sorry," He muttered, glancing over at the woman. The woman merely sighed.
"We don't have time to explain much," the woman simply replied, albeit softer. "I... we're not here to hurt you, if we were we would've left you to them." The woman gestured to the end of the alley. "We're just asking you to trust us right now after this is finished," she hesitated. "you can go back home."
Gilbert stared at her, dumbfounded. Was she telling him, after all of this was over he could just walk home? He knew that he shouldn't trust her. Every part of his body was telling him no, but… that sense of hope, hope that he'll be able to go back to his brother. He'll be able to see him again. "Dammit" he muttered, "fine."
Paris seemed to have brightened significantly, offering the albino a week smile. The woman nodded. She pulled out a tiny laser pointer from her belt and tossed it to Paris. The man fumbled, barely catching the item with his one unoccupied hand. The woman received a sharp glare for that. Paris turned on the laser pointer, aiming the green light directly in one of the open windows. Gilbert watched as the man turned the light off and on, creating a series of patterns.
Short, long, short short
'Was that….Morse?' he thought.
"A-D-D-E-R N-O-W "
Upon receiving the message, there was a crash heard from the window. Paris winced, while the woman shook her head. The trio waited for about a minute or so when a ladder dropped from the window.
The woman looked directly at Gilbert "Go ahead," she said, motioning towards the ladder.
He looked up at the ladder. The window couldn't have been more than thirty feet above the ground. Gilbert looked back over to the woman, then began to climb. It was when he started climbing, he realized how badly his muscles ached. His legs were starting to tremble and his hands could barely keep their grip. He couldn't count how many times, he nearly lost his grip. Luckily, he had got to the window sill before anything could happen.
With his last remaining strength, Gilbert pushed himself through the window. He collapsed on the floor, his legs throbbing with pain. He could hear light footsteps walking to him. A tiny pale hand came into view. Gilbert forced his head up to see whose hand it was. Upon seeing the person, Gilbert's eyes widened in horror. Two long twin braids draped themselves onto the person's shoulder. Doe-eyed and a wide genuine smile was painted on her face. A small build and small frame.
A child. She couldn't have been any older than Ludwig. They had brought a small child with him. Suddenly he couldn't help but notice Paris' wounds. The man was applying pressure to the wound, the blood staining his hand. The woman was by his side, bandage in hand. Paris bit his lip as a pair of tweezers neared his wound.
"This is going to sting," she murmured.
Paris let out a sigh. "Just do it," he snapped.
Gilbert couldn't bare to look at the scene. He could hear the man sucking the air through his teeth, barely containing a scream. Gilbert cringed at the sound. The blood, the guns, this child could die. Paris was shot... what could happen to her then? What was she doing here with them?
"Um?"
The girl awkwardly shifty her feet, still extending her arm.
Gilbert realized the girl was still there. He reluctantly took her hand and was promptly pulled up. "Hi," she chirped, shaking Gilbert's hand, "I'm Sicily, it's nice to see you made it here safely."
"More or less," he managed to choke out.
"We can't our guard down yet," The woman cut in. The bandage that was in her hand, was now securely wrapped around Paris' shoulder. A bloody bullet was discarded on the floor.
It took him a second to realize what was different. Next to the bullet was two masks. Gilbert stared at the two people, mouth agape. Behind that mask, the woman owned a beautiful set of forest green eyes. She had blond hair tied into a tight bun and shockingly large eyebrows. The man, on the other hand, had blonde hair that dropped down to his neck. He had dull violet eye. A barely noticeable stubble grew on his chin. Bewildered, Gilbert realized that they were only a couple of years older than him.
Paris weakly laughed. "Mon ami, you'll catch flies."
A/N Hey, I actually posted a chapter in a reasonable time. I swear Paris and Sicily are not OCs. Just wait .
