Chapter 2: Pigs Might Fly
It was a blessing and a curse for the young boy out on the fields. He didn't like the feel of sweat trickling down his skin, having gotten used to the obsessive cleanliness from the institute but it also made the work harder than it should have been to the young boy. The wind might have been a soft tickling on the skin if it were not the accompanying harsh microscopic blades biting into the thin material of his clothes. A few days had passed by, but the young boy knew that the children and infants with him were of no general use, and being the oldest, slightly larger framed, he got to work. The weather had turned from the pleasant cool temperature they had stumbled onto to the cloudy sky with sprinting winds. It was the thought of the others needing him that motivated the boy enough to escape from the barrier and into the white wilderness around the cottage.
The boy heaved, hastily adjusting his stance and with all the strength he could muster he slammed forward. Small barks splintered and shot towards his face, the axe flew from the clumsy hand and he shot sideways to avoid the collision. The child laid still on the snow, vivid green watched the flakes dance in the air, twirling, jumping, and the sound of cheerful laughter echoing in the surroundings. The boy could imagine a large ballroom filled with people in formal clothing, conversing with each other and people dancing at the centre, their smiles infectious to the audience. He could have laid on the snow for a while just to let his imagination run wild conjuring far-off dreams of happiness of ones he scarcely remembered if it were not a growl that made the small frame shot up.
The vivid green narrowed, flickering from hiding place to hiding place, the body tensed ready to run or fight. Cracked lips frowned, furrowed brows appeared and he peered closer to the large bundle. It had a mix of soft and harsh grey fur, ink-black identical, crescent moon shapes on each base of the ears, startling crystal-blue eyes peered under a thick tuft of white fur and the lips pulled back to a snarl to reveal a very large and very menacing canines pointed to the boy's direction.
He took a step closer.
Either the young child's self-perseverance had took a hiding or perhaps it was the equally large, deep gash across the torso that had caught his attention, a hefty bark ingrained inside the animal did not help relieve the situation. The child disregarded the screaming of his instincts and took the few hesitant steps towards the large animal, ignoring the menacing growls his way. When the injured animal tried to move the boy stilled mid-crouch, he cast his eyes over the body, stood and left the area.
Small hands swept inside the tiny compartment he had found, patting the base and cheered quietly when he found the solid object. There was no need to wake the children.
After only a few miss-turns the boy found his way back, the area under the animal was tainted an alarming red, seeping into the white snow and with a careful yet hurried pace he made his way towards the injured. Opening the lid he took out the needed tools to extract the imbedded bark and the familiar white bandages out of the box. He showed the materials to the animal, hoping that the animal had some sense inside. Crawling closer, he kept one critical eye on the procedure, the other to the animal with his instincts on full, screaming alert.
The young boy had only the guidance of the lab-coats to help him through the procedure and bit his lip nervously. He wrapped an absorbent sponge around the bark, making sure that he did not move the bark in the process, gripped the bark gently and pulled, harshly. The child quickly scrambled back, vivid green warily watching the animal jerk, its large snout swung towards him. The icy blue eyes stared at his own vivid green, the nose twitched and the head laid back down on the red snow, the head not turning away. Shakily, the child forced himself to get closer, grabbing a bottle of disinfectant, the child openly winced at the reaction it would get. Throwing aside the red cloth, he grabbed a new cloth and poured some liquid of the disinfectant into it. Quick as he could manage he pressed the material onto the wound, wincing at the sudden closeness of the bared canines. He made the mistake of moving the cloth and cried out in pain and shock from the piercing of his flesh. He stared, terrified at the attached canine on his free limb. The child threw the material aside and sat still. He did not know how to take his arm back.
By the time his arm was set free, his face poured out rivers of tears, the restrained sobs not escaping his tight hold. He dare not move from his position, but he did slowly reach for the cloth, letting the animal watch his movements. With a shaking hand he rubbed away at his bloodied arm with the disinfectant cloth and winced at the harsh sting. More tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. Once done, he reached for the other tools, a sharp, thin, silver needle and a string attached. He pierced his skin and made the arduous procedure of stitching his freshly made wound up, all the while aware of the icy eyes watching, the growls when he let out an involuntary cry and the snarls of his ever present tears. Vivid green glanced over his finished wound, his hand grabbing the disinfectant, a new cloth on hand and realised that he had taken his eyes off the animal. Glancing up, he saw the animal had tried to stand, but had collapsed, its icy eyes watching him as he cleaned and wrapped the bandage around his arm.
Once again, his eyes found itself locked with the wound on the animal and a deep guilt welled inside his chest. He had caused the injury to the animal.
Ever more terrified than before, the young boy shuffled closer, keeping an eye on the animal and proceeded to finish his job. Perhaps, because it had watched him patch up his wound that the large animal let him patch the wound with nothing more than a warning growl and a whine. Once done, he reached from his back and let the cloak blanket over the animal. He left the area, with a promise to come back.
Four weeks, and the young, reckless child kept his promise to the animal. He nurtured, he cared and cleaned the wound regularly, making a makeshift shelter from the harsh winds to the animal. During all of this, he had not made it out unscathed, he was covered in bruises, bite marks and had earned himself a sprained ankle, not from the animal but from a fall he had taken. It had taken longer to reach the animal then and the large predator had kept the child from venturing back home with a growl and a menacing glare. He had stayed with the animal as long as he could, but had made his way back, knowing that the canine would not be able to follow. He had gotten a large bruise and a soft bite the next day.
By the end of the third week the animal was able to move efficiently, not without the occasional whine or growl. During the time the animal was reacquainting itself with movement, the onyx-haired child had created a large distance between the animal and he. When the animal moved towards his direction, with the intention to go to him, the young child edged as far as he could and ignored the growls.
The fourth week had brought the young child once again to the wolf, knowing even then that the animal was healthy but still worried. Hyper-alert, tensed and wary, he made his way to the familiar trek to the area, the snow was gratefully devoid of red. Vivid green had searched the area, having found the surroundings empty, he had checked more than he would admit, but the child had resigned himself that the animal was gone. He turned to walk away when something bumped onto his chest, the breath knocked away from him.
Frozen stiff, his eyes found itself a target to the familiar icy-blue gazing down on him, a growl on its throat. He did not move even when the snout, hiding the very large canines, sniffed at his pulsating vein, the situation had lost to him as the child accepted his death.
The young boy did not know how, but the animal seemed to have sensed his thoughts and glared daggers at his vivid green, the growl erupting from the throat.
Since then, the whole fourth week was spent in the same manner, the animal seemingly made itself responsible to discipline him, at least that was what the child thought not wanting to venture into a morbid trail of a predator waiting for its prey. The last three days had terrified the child, barely stepping a foot into the area even with the encouraging barks of the animal…because the animal had brought a companion, a very large, larger than the animal he knew, animal. The two had similarities, the smaller one, the once he knew was slim but the same size as its companion. The other, though a smidgen taller, had a wider frame and bulkier muscles, the two together had made intimidated thechild, even if they were separate, the animals still exuded dangerous auras.
It took a couple of growls, a few bruises, lots of biting and barking and the two became three. The small child with overly large animals as his companions. It was into their second week as a three that the child knew he was being followed, the auras had given them away, and the softer growls didn't help any. It was like the slighter framed animal was warning to the larger one to be silent and it had made the child want to cry or laugh or both.
The boy made an effort in losing them. It had worked for a month, the soft bites and bruises was given to him every day and he knew that the two animals were affectionally angry at him for leading them to a wild goose chase. Throughout the period, the young child had worked himself to nurture the other children, curing them of their sickness and entertaining them as much as he could. It was because of this that a lack of sleep was a given and the decrease of food consumption followed suit. The child did not seem to notice, too busy in trying to lose the animals and taking care of the children. It had accumulated to the point where the child had collapsed from gathering food and wood.
The young child awoke in a blurred haze, the aching bones ignored he shot up from his position to gather the food and wood and left, not glancing at his surroundings. It was late, and the children-
It was too late to lose them. He was already at the door, heat boiling inside him, hazed vision and a harsh breathing preoccupied any danger he would bring. He opened the door, shut it as quickly as he could and did the same routine he had done every day albeit drowsier, clumsier and slower, but it was done. He collapsed in a heap in front of the fire.
The child woke, knowing he had rested too long and went about his morning with the same robotic movements he had every other day. It was when setting the table he had found himself targeted to two sets of familiar eyes, one icy blue and the other an eerily glowing gold. He stumbled back in shock, feet tripping over themselves, and watched in slow motion as his vision caught sight of the ceiling.
Panicked, the young boy scanned around the room and watched terrified and awed at the picture.
The animals were inside. Check.
The animals were picking up the children with their teeth. Check.
The animals were feeding the children. Check.
The animals was playing with the babies. Check
He was about to pass out? Incoming.
His vision turned dark. Check.
It was with these turn of events that the seven escapees was made into twelve, if the animals were counted as escapees. Despite himself, the young boy and the rest of the children with their resulted twisted sanity had come to see the animals as parental figures, though the child was more inclined to believe the three of them were some sort of partners, with the two taking care of him. The boy's makeshift family had become safe enough for him to leave, to look for more money and food. He could not rely on the wilderness forever, even when the animals took home their hunts.
With that thought in mind, he made himself explain to the animals of the situation and vaguely wondered the intelligence of the animals when after a few barks to each other, they seemed to nod and pushed him out of the door.
The child had come to realise that he had a 'saving people or animals' behaviour. Whether it was impulsive or not, the young boy did not have time to think about it as he jumped out of a window and gunshots followed. Cradled tightly on his arms was the previous owner's last wish.
"Keep it safe." A trembled voice whispered to his ear, it was old and waning and the child felt pity. " Andare a Venezia. All'interno di un bar, la terza strada che si incontra quando si entra, sarà un uomo di nome Codice, dare a lui e dire Leo ha scelto." The wrinkled hands shakily gave the item on his arms. He had apparently saved the old man, not wanting to see a group of suit wearing people ganging up to a frail man only a foot to the grave. "Go! Vai ora!" the man yelled.
He had hesitated, but the man with surprising strength had pushed him into a warehouse and the sounds of fighting was heard, a disjointed conversation and laughter as a shot went off. The young boy had scrambled up the stairs then.
The journey to Venice was terrifying to the young boy. He had already seen the darker side of humanity, but to stumble to another aspect was another experience entirely. Always alert, always ready to run, his whole conscience was focused on escape routes, no matter what it took. If he was cornered, he did everything to escape: throwing dirt, throwing anything, yelling, screaming to the police and even murder.
He had killed on the second week on the run. The man had found him in a farmer's shed, alone and shivering from the previous day's rain. The man had grinned darkly at him, had went into a tirade of what he would do, can do and will do to him, the glory and the box. He had been terrified, though it didn't last long when the man had started to describe the old man's death and with a burst of anger and indignation he attacked. The man died with an axe to the brain. He slept less since then.
Second time he killed, it wasn't one but a group, to made it worse for his conscience it was a family with full grown children and the parents. He hesitated to attack, knowing of the importance of family, it had resulted into a village massacre. He killed them with a dead man's gun.
The massacre, his murders had scarred him deep, their deaths weighed heavily in his heart. He barely slept through nights, from nightmares or from the chase, he didn't care anymore. All he wanted was to get the damn item to the receiver.
The third time, he didn't hesitate. It was a different situation, one where he wasn't cornered or found, instead, he went to look for them. With experience of silence, of using the shadows, balancing and the unwelcomed training from the institute he had hunted the group.
Night had fallen in the city of Scandiano, the full moon had risen and whispers of the wind whistled through the air. It was an eerie night, but the young boy did not care. Hidden in the shadows, vivid green that seemed to glow in the dark watched from his position the gathering before him. Maps and papers were strewn on the tables, some making its way to the floors, red, blue and green pins decorated the largest map whilst the others had red, blue and green pen markers on them.
The lights had abruptly turned off, shouts of exclamation making its way to the group and vivid green faded into the black abyss. One of the mechanics had managed to turn on one light bulb, the light dangling above the largest map casting the room a haunting glow.
It was a gurgled shout that brought the group's attention away from the maps to stare frozen at their colleague's neck half off its body. They rushed into formation, the tense silence picking on their nerves. Some watched as the blood from their colleague trickled not on the floor but on barely visible wire, trailing towards them and eyes grew with dawning horror at the room.
A small dark figure landed on the wires, the glinting sword seen in the light.
The next day newspapers were strewn about as a curious teenager had stumbled onto the situation. The headlines read:
Nemico o Santo (Enemy or Saint)?
In the twilight hours of the full moon a disaster had befallen, whether it be good or bad is up to your opinions. I have found from one of many anonymous sources, one I guarantee tells the truth as you have read before, that the individuals were recognised as one of the many members of the Pianto Corone that had numerously terrorised many other countries and had gained a significant bounty to their heads. It is with some confusion as to why this group was found in Italy, as they do not target cultured nations. During the investigations, one of the officers was able to give me an inside preview of the area. It seems, they have found maps and plans strewn about tainted by the bloods spilled during the night. The group seemed to have been planning something, seeing as one of the red markings on the map had the village that was massacred only a week prior. It seems, my fellow citizens, Pianto Corone is targeting our nation. Their objective, unknown but the police and government officials had taken upon themselves to see through this investigation and it is with a relieved heart that we may go about our day with the extra protection provided. Until next issue.
H.G. Douglas.
The events of that particular night had made the young boy shy from everything and had become an insomniac. He did not know what had possessed him to go through with it, but now he had more guilt added to his already heavy heart.
He was found and cornered again, no matter what he did he was always found and he did not know why. He had run, creating as much as a distraction as he could, he did not want to kill anymore and it was with an anguished heart, tears streaking down his face, he laid down a wreathe of white tulips and chrysanthemums onto the ashen floor.
There was no turning back.
When had finally delivered the package to Codice and the message, he made to leave and never come back but was grabbed from the shoulder and was forced to face the lean man.
"Non so Milost za Krila?"
The man was saddened at the loss of his dear friend and estranged mentor, but he was happy once he learned of the message that was included. He looked at the young, frail frame of the boy before him, the vivid green eyes glowing under the inky-black of his messed hair. There was a haunting expression carefully hidden, and it tore at the man's heart. He had found the elusive Milost za Krila. Loved and hated by the populace, a mystery everyone was trying to solve and catch, no one had any inkling the infamous figure was just a small child and it froze the man's blood to the bone.
He had to take careful steps to insure his mentor's plan. "A giudicare dall'aspetto, si sono una fuga (Judging by your appearance you are a runaway)." He began, ushering the boy to his corner.
Vivid green glanced at him irritably. "Che cosa (What of it)?" the boy almost snarled.
"A giudicare dall'aspetto, si sono una fuga (If I were to give you a job, how much do you want it)?" He asked genially and quickly hurried on. "So cosa avete fatto, siete Milost za Krila (I know what you did, you are Milost za Krila)."
The boy tensed, ready to bolt, harm if he had to.
"Vi prenderò in ogni modo possibile (I will take you in anyway)." He assured, a small smile on the man's face. If he let this opportunity slip away, his mentor would skin him alive.
"Perché (Why)?" Voice small and timid.
"Diciamo che è un rimborso per i guai che questo ti abbia causato (Let's say, it's a repayment this trouble has cost you)." He answered half-honestly.
The boy hesitated, an internal conflict obvious in the eyes. "Se accetto, si può fare qualcosa per me (If I accept, can you do something for me)?"
He nodded, noting the boy's reaction.
The young child brightened up considerably and with some admiring restraint held himself from jumping. "Accetto!"
The man pursed his lips, half of him angry at his suggestion to drag a child into the mess, the other sighing but lightly scolding as well. "Non ci sarà nessun punto di ritorno (There'll be no point of return)." He warned seriously.
Inky-hair nodded back just as seriously. "Lo so (I know)."
The man lifted a surprised brow. "Qual era la tua condizione (What was your condition)?" He changed the subject.
Vivid green lit up, a joyous aura surrounding the two and leaned forward as the boy smiled at him, all childish innocence. "Voglio settantadue per cento ha mandato a (I want seventy-two percent sent over to)…"
The man wanted to pray for forgiveness, but knew that it was no use. The child agreed and there was no turning back. He almost committed suicide because of this and swore at his mentor's grave to be a grateful old man and thank everything that he was already six foot under.
The two left the bar, together.
"Es tu perdu, garçon (are you lost, boy)?"
The onyx-haired child glanced up from the map on his hands. "Non, monsieur (no, sir)." He softly replied and folded his map to turn to look outside the window. Sceneries blurred past, people glanced at him, but he ignored them, the memories of the past having made itself nostalgic to him.
A/N: So, this all the chapters I've written. Well, chapter three is actually a summary for me to get Percy into canon. But, the entire story is so convoluted...