▼Skillet → Hero
It's just another war
Just another family torn
"Art is a blast, un." Were the only words that fluttered through the cold night air just before the buildings and homes nestled in a small, unimportant village were blown into fragments.
With a smirk, the bomber watched the scene until all that was left were a few flames, licking at the air. With a self appreciating laugh, he surveyed the scene, not quite ready to leave his newest masterpiece.
The aftereffect of the bombs was almost as beautiful as the explosion itself. The flames that licked the houses, the smoke and debris falling, crashing, drifting. It was a rush of action, one that no human, not even a ninja, could create so perfectly without help.
The lone figure patted the bag on his hip. Help, in the form of clay, was all he really needed.
There had been no screams, no cries for help. Because no one could live through that.
I've gotta fight today
To live another day
In the midst of the burning buildings, a single figure crawled from the rubble. He pulled himself just clear of the flames, out of the danger zone, and collapsed. He was sweating from that simple exertion. He willed himself not to sleep, knowing no one would wake him.
He rolled on his side and watched his home burn. As he watched every memory he had, everyone he knew, everything he was use to burn to the ground. Not a single tear left his eyes.
His lungs felt like they, too, were on fire. He struggled to suck in air, choking and coughing on the smoke and dust.
I am just a man
Not superhuman
Fire danced in his eyes, burning this memory into his mind. He could feel the smoke closing in on him. He knew that he was still too close. That his luck was running thin. He knew he would lose everything here. Everything, including his life.
It's just another kill
The countdown begins to destroy ourselves
The artist saw the man crawl out of the building. "Impossible." He whispered, throwing clay into the air. Whispered words and a soft swoosh of air, and he was flying on a white bird, easily landing next to the man.
With a smile, he drew out a kunai. Killing this struggling human would be so easy. Too easy.
He crouched down, studying the figure like a scientist in a laboratory. Muddy brown eyes returned the look with disinterest before falling shut. His chest rose and fell slowly, with no pattern. His mouth was parted in small gasps, and he clutched at his shirt, as though the clothing was the reason he couldn't breath.
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
The dieing man was fighting to suck in air. His body was seized in pain. He knew he would die here, die a failure.
We're in the fight of our lives
And we're not ready to die
He turned, found himself staring up into crazed blue eyes. He had never seen this person before. Who was he? Was he here to kill him? Or was he already dead; was this his guide to the other side? No. He wasn't ready to die. He willed himself to speak, but no words escaped him.
A hero will save me just in time
The bomber watched the man in front of him, something telling him not to kill the other male. With a sigh, he lifted the man, settling him on the white bird. "Don't try to talk, un." He commanded, jumping on behind him. With quick motions, they flew into the air, flying steadily south. Without another word, the destroyer deposited the male in a nearby town, where he was sure to be found and helped.
Without another thought, he jumped back onto the bird. "I hope we never meet again, un. Next time, I will kill you." He disappeared into the night while the dieing man felt his eyes shut.
He knew he was safe, he knew he would live.