Waking himself slowly, his vision still not cleaned, Arson felt something cold on his head. Still believing that he was in the hospital and had been caught and restrained by the doctor, he started thrashing his arms and legs around.
"Bro, bro yer a-fine," Four Way Shot said soothingly. "nobody is a-gonna hurt ye agin!"
Letting his eyes glow as bright as they could go, Arson pulled his head to the side. His brother was sitting beside him on a milk carton, a knife in one of his hands and an apple in another. Smiling warmly his brother reached over and placed a hand that wasn't busy on his shoulder.
"You're late." Arson said, half jokingly.
"Imma sorry," his brother said. "I done got caught up."
"Your dad?" Arson asked fearfully.
"Nah, ding dang humans stoppin' the car an' all." Four Way Shot growled.
Looking at his brother, Arson could tell that he, too, had also had an eventful trip. He wasn't wearing his boots, his pants were muddy and there was a few rips in his shirt, mainly in the top two arms. There was a cut to his arm and it looked like there was a nasty cut to his foot as well. Placing his arms behind him, he pulled himself halfway up.
"I see you fared better than me." Arson said.
"No, not really." Four Way Shot sighed. "some feller done stole all mah money."
Thinking back to a few days before, Four Way Shot remembered waking up to finding a man over top of him, searching his pockets. He had acted fast, fast enough to stop the man from taking his guns and what little ammunition he had left but not fast enough to stop the man from stealing every cent he had on him. The man had jumped the train before he could fire a shot. He had almost fallen out as well, there had been a handle and he had grabbed onto it just in time, there had been a bridge that the train was going over at the time and if he would have fallen he would of probably not be getting up, at least not in one piece.
"Humans," Arson snarled. "no good rotten thieves all of them!"
"Ye got any money?" Four Way Shot asked.
"Do you see any clothes on me?" Arson yelled, angrily.
"Whut done happened to ye?" Four Way Shot asked, ignoring his brothers outburst.
"I fell in a stupid French Fry Cooker man!"
Dropping the apple, which was almost all the way peeled of its outer shell, Four Way Shoot placed one set of hands around his mouth and the other two around his body. Trying hard, he tried to stop the giggles. His brother eyed him coldly,the red background of his eyes bright and the orange and yellow star burst brighter.
"What's so fucking funny?" Arson screamed.
"Whut, ye couldn't wait fer them to cook?" Four Way Shot asked, trying to hold the urge to laugh in.
"No, lets just say they..."Arson said, swallowing hard. "hypnoteezed me ya know."
"Shor they did!" Four Way Shot laughed, not being able to hold it in anymore.
Looking at his brother angrily, Arson threw the sheet off of him and lunged, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. His shoulders still hurt him, as did his hand and back, but he got his point across. With a hard punch to his brothers stomach, he sent his brother against the wall. Raising his arms in submission, Four Way Shot both gave up and stopped laughing. The napkin that was in his pocket fell out.
"That's fer ye," Four Way Shot said. "I done thought ye'd be hungry."
Pulling the napkin open, Arson squealed, inside was a cherry, a stick of jerky and what looked to be a small thing of meat. Grabbing the meat first, and forgetting totally that his brother was nearby, he ate. Before he could grab the cherry his brother placed a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to both slow up and to save the fruit for last. Flashing his eyes, his way of showing that he was rolling them, he grabbed the jerky and started eating that.
"You have no idea how good this tastes," Arson said. "a whole lot better than what they give at that damn hospital."
"Must be good," his four armed brother said. "the way yer a-gobblin' it all up an' all."
"Got anymore?" Arson asked, still hungry, he had just finished the cherry.
"Imma sorry bro," his brother said sadly. "that's all I got."
"I can walk and all," Arson said, thinking aloud. "why don't both of us go out and find some money."
"I dunno bro," Four Way Shot said, looking over his shoulder. "why don't I a-go an' find somethin'?"
"Look, man, we are in this together," Arson said, frustrated. "plus, I need to get some new clothes."
Sighing loudly, knowing that his brother wasn't going to stay behind, Four Way Shot nodded his head. Taking his vest and shirt off, he handed it to his brother who wrapped it around himself. He looked funny with two extra arms in the shirt and it looked two sizes too small, but it was working for now. He had grabbed a jacket and had cut the sleeves off, handing that to his brother, who slipped it around his waist, he hid a laugh. His brother looked funnier than ever.
"How do I look?" Arson asked, blushing slightly.
"Heeeeeeuh heeeeeuh," his brother laughed. "it'll work fer now."
"Quit laughing man," Arson growled. "would you prefer me to be walking through the streets naked?"
"Hell no!" Four Way Shot yelled. "Yer point has been a-takin'."
"Then lets go!"
Walking down the street, half naked, cold and holding two of his hands close to his guns, Four Way Shot didn't miss a thing. His brother was right beside him, he looked even funnier out in the open, it looked like he was wearing a skirt and a blouse. A rat scurried past and he almost pulled his gun out. Taking a deep breath in and letting it go, he followed his brother into a store on the corner.
"Bro," Arson whispered. "quiet, we cannot be caught!"
Watching and guarding the small rack of clothes that his brother had disappeared into a few minutes before, Four Way Shot waited patiently. When they had left home his brother had been wearing a dark brown jacket, the same color as his vest, a steel gray long sleeve shirt, blood red pants and blood red boots, you couldn't really tell that they were red unless he was in direct light, he wondered what his brother was picking out to wear.
"Bro," Four Way Shot whispered. "whut's a -takin' ye so long?"
"A minute more is all I ask."
Tapping his finger against the end of one of his guns he wished he could whistle. Unlike his father, who couldn't for the life of himself whistle a note, he could. Hearing his brother push something out of the way he turned. He felt like his eyes had popped out of their sockets. Arson handed him his shirt then walked to a mirror.
"What?" Arson whispered agitated.
"Nothin'."
Arson looked like he had been dressed by a biker, he was wearing a black leather jacket with red leather stitched inside, a red shirt, and a pair of black pants. His boots were black, as shiny as can be, with a chain around the side. Pulling the jacket close and turning around slowly, Arson checked himself out in the mirror.
"Bro," Four Way Shot started to say. "have I ever told ye that ye got a wicked sense o' style?"
"No, never," his fiery brother said over his shoulder. "but thanks for the compliment."
Motioning for his brother to come along, Four Way Shot walked out the door. A cat ran past, chasing a rat and a dog barked in the distance. Looking behind him he saw that his brother was a step behind him. Walking forward, Four Way Shot led his brother to a small food cart, he could smell hot dogs.
"Ye still hungry bro?" Four Way Shot asked.
"Damn right I am man!" Arson said loudly.
The person that usually would be standing at the cart was gone, it was standing on the curve unattended. Looking both ways, making sure that no one was in sight, Four Way Shot quickly climbed the cart. When he was high enough, he grabbed a thing of hot dogs, hot as can be, and handed them down to his brother, who acted like he was going to eat them on the way down.
"We best git out o' here." Four Way Shot said quickly.
"This part of town looks good enough to warrant a stay for awhile." Arson said.
Walking back to the building that they had walked out of a few hours later, both boys climbed the stairs and walked side by side through the door. Four Way Shot had carried his brother a few miles to this place, it was warm enough and it offered some sort of cover from the weather. Sitting himself on the milk carton, he threw all four arms behind him and fell asleep.
