~~~~Immorten Joe's Acolyte~~~~

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, between school, financial strife, and family drama I have not had much free time or inspiration to write new chapters for this story. But I made a promise to my kind fans! I hope you enjoy this chapter, please read and leave a review; I always love hearing from my readers. Feel free to ask me questions or give some suggestions to further the story because it would help me out a lot.

I had witnessed many of my fellow war boys die in battle. Some of them went out in shiny chrome glory, quick and neat ascent to Valhalla. But there were a handful who were not so lucky, their ascension took days while they succumbed to their battle wounds. On one such occasion I stayed by the side of a friend as his body was devoured by the ravaging fever that set in a mere day after the victorious skirmish. During his last moments he spoke of seeing his life flash before his eyes, reliving all his past deeds good and bad as his grip on my hand became weaker and his flesh lost all breath of life.

Seeing that blur of motion pass me and dive headfirst off the cliff brought back those memories of my past regrets; how I longed to be witnessed, to be a part of something greater only to resign myself to the long shadows cast by my betters. There was my last chance at some higher purpose passing me by yet again. Fearing the worst fate to befall the two descending bodies I was powerless to help and could merely stand by and bear witness to their deaths.

That being said as I leaned over the edge with the other spectators what greeted me was not the limp bodies I was expecting ;but the squirming body of my new friend desperately hanging on to the kid with one hand while the other had a death grip on the rope attached to his waist harness. Dangling there like a black spider greedily clutching his prey they hung there suspended above the wretched eagerly waiting for someone to haul them back up.

Desperate to help get both of them back to safety my body dashed over to the elevator platform where the anchor end of the rope was precariously lodged. The platform guardians as well as myself and several muscular war boys formed a line as the thick rope was fed to our callous hands, inch by inch making its way down the line. Each participant in the rescue effort cussing and shouting in time with every tug of the line until a gloved hand was seen wrapped around the other end; I lent my own arm to him as I grasped onto his using my own weight as leverage to make that final heave onto solid ground.

It was only after recovering them that I realized the kid wasn't moving. His body was limp and lifeless in Stitch's left arm as he rolled the poor war pup onto his back and began shaking him trying to elicit a response. The other war boys merely gathered around the pair silently as we watched the young ambassador attempting to wake up the dead child. Each of us were thinking the same thought, 'poor half-life's heart must've given out cause of the shock of the fall,'. It didn't happen often but being a war boy meant we were all living on borrowed time, despite wanting to believe we were unbeatable machines of war the truth was we were fragile lumps of flesh with short shelf lives. The most we knew we could do was bear witness to the young warrior's passing as we stood vigil while the other started to pound into the kid's chest with his fists.

I laid my hand on his shoulder as Stitch continued rhythmically pressing his fists on the kid's chest all the while pleading for him to open his eyes. "You need to stop,' I mumble as my fingers increase their grip on his shirt ready to yank him off so that the kid may have some peace, "He's gone now, there's no more you can do for him but dig a hole to put what's left of him in." My hand was violently swatted away in response. My tired blue eyes met with his determined sky grey eyes framed by an angry scarlet face, "I'm not done trying to save him yet, I just need a few more minutes!" Seeming to abandon breaking the boy's ribs he tilted his head back and pinched the kid's nose, took a deep breath, and released it all into the kid's mouth like trying to air up a flat tire. I didn't know what to make of all this denial of the inevitable, but I had had enough, I couldn't watch any more.

"Damn it I said stop!", I screamed as I wrapped my arms around my friend's chest from behind and lifted him off the boy, dragging him out of the way as the kid's fellow war pup came to be at his side. Surprisingly Stitch didn't offer any resistance to my forceful embrace, its as if he had finally admitted defeat. Sensing he wouldn't put up a fight I let go of my grip on him while he watched the war pup's friend cry over their body. Slowly Stitch lowered himself to rest on his knees watching the mourning child intently. "What was your friend's name?" he asked quietly. Sad brown eyes shaded by a grease stained face looked up with thin rivers of tears streaming down either cheek. Trying to save face in front of the grown war boys, he wiped away his tears with the back of his dirty hands. "His name was Axel, and he wanted to be a lancer when he grew up. I was gonna be his driver." Stitch nodded his understanding, now he had a name to put to the face of the life that was lost today. Gently he reached out his hand towards Axel's body and scooped him into his arms, carefully cradling his head as if he were merely sleeping.

"We'll see to it he receives a proper burial," I say as I pat Stitch's back in what I hoped was seen as a comforting manner. However, as he turns to face me, plastered all over his smug face was the biggest smile I had ever seen with all his white teeth on full display.

"I don't think that will be necessary Nux, look who finally decided to wake up after giving us all such a horrible scare!" he gestures toward Axel with his pointed chin.

I couldn't hold back the tears of happiness nor the shouts of joy I let out as I gazed at Axel's timid eyes open and looking around as others realized he was really alive. I had just witnessed a true miracle of Valhalla! Everyone who had participated in the rescue was jumping vigorously around, shouting excitedly, flashing V8 hand signs; praising Stitch for saving the young war pup from an inglorious death.

'What a day! What a lovely day!'.