So this chapter is a tad morbid. And a little "R" rated. But only subtle hints, I swear. I just couldn't bear not letting you guys know. In case.
Nightwing leaned in as close as possible to her, until his hair almost brushed her face.
"How old are you?" he asked with baited breath.
"Twenty three."
He let the breath out. She must have been consumated before Dark Ace had gotten involved with Cyclonis. Thank goodness. She saw his eyes relax and snickered.
"What, afraid old pops was cheating on your mother?" she said. For the first time, Nightwing noticed she had no accent, unlike the others.
"Where are you from?"
"Psh. What's with all the darn questions?"
"You're hardly in the position to be making demands, COON."
"You mean, sister?" she hissed. He slapped her across the face.
"I am NOT your brother," he growled. She glared at him. Oh, yeah, she definitely had the Dark Ace's stare. He stared back, and for the first time, the two half siblings saw themselves in each other. They didn't especially like what they saw.
"Well?" she panted softly.
"Do I have to repeat the question?" he asked, elegant once more. His hand stung from the hit.
"I come from Terra Gale. I've lived here all my life," she spat.
"Then why isn't there an accent?"
Coon was silent.
Nightwing waited patiently.
"You don't need to know everything," she hissed quietly. He chuckled, before motioning towards the door.
"GUARDS!" He snapped his fingers before tying her gag back on. "Kindly escort our guest to the jail, if you please," he said. The young woman was forced up and dragged away, kicking and screaming to the best of her ability. Nightwing sat down on his bed. This changes everything. EVERYTHING. She might not be the only one. If mother knew...
She had to be the only one; he couldn't bear it if it was otherwise.
And of course, this couldn't get out.
No one could know. And that included Gaeli.
Coon felt the hard hands hitting her in the small of her back, and somehow managed to grit her teeth and restrain herself. Her cheek still tingled from Nightwing's blow. She had never expected this. Not once, in her twenty three year long life, had she ever imagined a half brother to pop up out of nowhere. Not that it bothered her...much.
She had always hated her father, for more than one reason. You'd hate someone, too, if he stuck around for just a month before ditching your mother. Coon's mother hadn't known she was with child until it was too late. He was gone. And for that, Coon could never forgive him. She didn't care who he was. What kind of man leaves a woman who loves him? Because Rose had loved him. Yes, street women aren't supposed to love their customers. But he had strangely been different. And for some reason, Coon's mother had overlooked the fact that he commanded the forces that stole her homeland. Only a month, the two had known each other. To him, she was a toy. To her, he was the greatest love of her life.
So here was the child of HIS greatest love.
Should she hate him?
Perhaps.
And yet, she didn't. It wasn't part of her nature to hate a person she didn't understand. She felt like she understood Dark Ace. A Talon with commitments that didn't involve a woman. But this one?
Had it been a different time, a different year, a different situation, perhaps the two of them could even have been friends. Yet somewhere inside her, she knew that there was more than a principle at stake here. There was her life, and his, to consider.
The jail cell was small, but it had a bed. At least they didn't throw her. One of them even shot her a sympathetic glance. She smiled weakly at him. He almost grinned back, but caught himself. Coon sat down on the bed.
She was a dark girl, black hair, thin eyebrows. Red eyes, blaring like embers. Tall, slim, lanky. Muscular, from all the years she spent runnign away from angry shopkeepers whose wares she'd stolen. Coon stood, stretching, ribs bulging out from beneath her threadbare shirt, arms reaching and almost scraping the low ceiling. Her fingers fell and ran through dark hair, which streamed to her waist, unruly and messy. She looped her arm behind her back and toyed with the strands. She kicked at the barred door.
"Hyah!" She struck a pose. At least she could pretend to be tough. She aimed and kicked, this time, accidently hitting the door. The sound resonated through the prison. Coon jumped up into the air, scrambling for her bed. A guard wandered over.
"What in the world are you doing?" he asked her, voice echoing.
"Erm...practicing my Sky Fu!" Coon said. The guard raised his eyebrows. He was the same one who'd almost smiled at her. This time, he did. His face lit up. Perhaps being Cyclonian didn't necesarily mean being inhuman.
"Well, try to do it with a little more tact."
"It's not like I have anyone to teach me," she said, pouting.
"Hm. How old are you?"
"Twenty three."
"Hey! Same here," he exclaimed, leaning against her door. "What did you do to end up in here?"
"Stole some stuff. Tried to, anyhow. Sheets, bread, stuff like that."
"Hey, prison's a tough sentence for a few blankets and some food." He looked at her. She kept her red eyes hidden. Her newfound friendship with this man could be ruined if he found out who she was.
"My name's Coon," she said, reaching through the bars.
"Pleased to meet you, Coon. I'm Taien. Captain Taien, actually." He took her hand. She felt the callouses and scars that rubbed against her palm and almost winced. But she let go without a flinch.
"If you need anything," he said, nodding at the bed. "Just, eh, let me know. We have too much food to spare, anyways."
"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll be fine. I just might need someone to talk to. Jail cells get a little lonely." She looked away when he leaned closer. She could feel warmth on her neck. Something about this situation scared her.
"I understand. I'll see you later."
"I'm not going anywhere."
He chuckled at her quip before turning. She listened to his footsteps until she could hear them no more. It made her fell strange, how there was a human being alive that remotely cared for her.
The Cyclonians did not hesitate in getting the Gaelians to work. Crystal mining, fuel production, you name it, they were doing it. A brisk week passed, factories reopened, so that soon, red smog was pumped into the once blue sky. History did repeat itself, after all.
For, once again, a Cyclonian ruler could turn their eyes to a red sky and smile.