3. Light

Boomer was always a little unsettled in the sun.

Oh, he liked it fine; it was bright and shiny and warm, but it was like a giant eye, staring right at him. There were things he'd rather not have anyone see, things he wanted to keep hidden, especially from his brothers. In his half-asleep nuttiness he often imagined that the sun could see right through him and told what it found to Brick and Butch for the sole purpose of tormenting him. So what if he went out of his way to save a kitten stranded in the middle of traffic? He didn't want to see the poor thing bleed and die, is all. And he'd crunched a few cars in the process; didn't that count for something?

Whatever. There were times when being evil was too much work. He wasn't even sure if he was evil anymore; sure, he liked a bit of mayhem and vandalism as much as the next guy, but was it too much to ask to not torture small animals?

The sun beat down on him as he sat in the park, casually licking at an ice cream cone the ice cream vendor girl had generously given him (seriously, just given it to him—though the wink he gave her beforehand probably helped, and he had her number written on his palm, not that it would still be there once his ice cream started melting). It was the kind of day that was nice with a breeze, but unbearable without one. When he touched the top of his head, his hair practically burned him. He gave his ice cream another resolute lick as he glared up in the sun's general direction. Stupid sun. Why wouldn't it just leave him alone?

While in the service (and joint custody) of Him, Boomer'd done some pretty unspeakable things in his lifetime. He'd picked teeth out of bits of pulpy gore spread over his face and shirt, he'd twisted necks so violently the head detached like a chicken's, he'd done all kinds of things, some things even Butch hadn't done (but, then, Butch hadn't gone on all of his missions, either). Yeah, he'd killed before, killed actual people. It made him sick to his stomach every time, but he did it because…where else was he going to go, if he didn't? He didn't have a family outside of his brothers and their fem-dad. Nowhere to go, no one to see. Actually, that was an intriguing thought, but the lazy kid in him figured it was easier to stay where he didn't have to forage for a meal.

He also didn't want anyone finding out about his not-so-evil side, especially not his brothers. The beatings would never end if they learned about where he went every Saturday night (the park, to feed the ducks), or what really happened to the birdhouse he made in Shop (in the forest to house a nice little family of robins), or where the assorted sports balls Butch kept destroying wound up (patched up and at the animal shelter for the cats and dogs to play with). See, that's what was great about animals. They didn't judge, they just took him as he was. That was one of his special gifts, but Brick didn't know about it. It couldn't help him in a battle situation, so why would he bother? Boomer's wisecracks didn't help much, either, but Brick tolerated his jokes and wrote them off as part of his weirdness.

So what if it cost him some evil points? Everybody had a light side, didn't they? Boomer's was just bigger than either of his brothers'. So long as it stayed out of sight, he could keep it.


A/N: Ah, Boomer. The snips. :D Seriously, the meandering should stop as soon as I get more into the groove of these characters. I quite like how Boomer turned out, actually. It's a fine line trying to balance his nearly-niceness with his mostly-evilness, but I think I drew a pretty good one here. Like I keep saying, this isn't perfect, but it's practice, and you know what they say...

I likes reviews, yesh I do...:D