by Chustang
Chapter 2
"Aniki"
Gene Starwind and Jim Hawking have spread their reputation as the the stars' dynamic duo across many planets. Jim's intelligence and common sense is probably the only thing that counters his partner's brash recklessness, and each has their part. Brandishing caster and fist, Gene pulls the weight while Jim is the backup, the thinker and machine whiz that keeps his older aniki in line. Despite their many close calls, the team never seems to lose.
Never?
"What the hell is that thing?!"
Gene leveled his caster gun, but suddenly it was wrenched out of his hand, knocking him back from his kneeling position. Through the blackness of the dark forest, he could see the thing flaring its red eyes. The gun was blasted from his grip by a blast of ice from the creature's jaws, as it smashed slowly through the trees. Angrily grunting, he dived after it as it clattered backward from the blast.
Jim just gave his partner a dirty look, crouching, hidden, behind a gnarled bush. Gene, with the precious gun slid into its sheath, dived into the hiding spot behind Jim. His longish, blackened hair was ruffled and bore a slight frost, a grave reminder of how slimly the blast of ice had missed his throat. "I don't know Gene!" he snapped back, narrowing his blue eyes in anger. "You can't depend on me for everything, you know, and you're supposed to be my aniki!"
Recovering himself, Gene slid out his blaster and locked it. He stared down at his eleven year old partner. "I'll be nobody's aniki if you don't start cooperating!" he replied in the same, heated manner. "Try to distract that thing, if you can. That way, I can get a few leads into it."
Jim sat, shocked, in stuttering. "You have only leads left???" he screamed, fearing for his life. "Are you crazy, Gene? Lead bullets will never do anything to an animal like that!"
"I know, I know," he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly to shut out the truth. It would take at least ten good shots in a weak spots if he wanted to live. Gene quickly shed his shredded, dark gold jacket and tensed his scarred arms for battle. "Just try to distract it, okay?" he asked, focusing on Jim's shadowed face.
The blonde kid gritted his teeth silently behind pursed lips, but nodded obediently. Jim hated this, the way his reckless aniki never thought. He folded his arms, and bit his lip. "Like how, hotshot?" he asked cynically, to lighten the thick aura of death that hung suspended around them. The echoing reminder of the monster's progress drew closer, as trees snapped and it growled menacingly.
Gene lifted his gaze up from the gun, which shined only dully. His dark blue eyes fumed with resenting thoughts, and his lips curled to grimace. "That dragon picked a wonderful place to drop us off," he muttered to himself. Again, his eyes' darkness overcame the light, and his eyes just narrowed in anger, angst, and a swirling emotion that stung and soothed at the same time. I must be going damn crazy.
"Gene?"
He locked gazes with Jim, and the kid extended his hand out. With flesh scarring his black gloves, he gestured for the concealed caster. "Give me the caster. I think it'll go after the larger gun by instinct, and you can sneak around to land a few good shots, okay?" he explained, still awaiting the gun.
Dumbstruck, his aniki blinked, and blinked again, as if his words had been alien and was trying to translate them. Gene just about had a heart attack, incredulously asking, "The caster? Jim, have you gone insane?! What are you planning to do with that, if it chases after you? All I have left are those dangerous shells that'll kill you."
"Chill out, Gene. It won't have time to catch me." Jim was voice was somewhat light and careless, but the grave gleam in his eyes betrayed his attempt. "Besides, if I do have to fire them, you're still Gene Starwind, right? You can make it without me, anyway..." The eleven year old began to lose faith in his own words, and let them fall silent, casting his eyes downward.
"Now don't say that Jim!" Gene insisted, trying to perk his friend up. He tipped the young boy's chin up with his thumb, and met his tearing eyes with a grin. "Remember - we're a team. And don't you forget it."
Jim perked up a smile, and agreed softly, "Yeah."
"That's better. Now, for that -"
Suddenly, a furiously high-ptiched shriek pierced their ears. Two flaring, venomous red eyes flashed at them through the thick trees, as the animal crashed loudly through. It shouldered a massive oak tree, which was instantly knocked to the ground. It had the vague outline of a wolf, but the shoulders were far too large. A set of eight long horns, four on each side, were animatedly clawing the air, like spider legs. Green, violet, and black flecked fur bristling like daggers, it lunged at their hiding spot.
"Jim! Run!" Gene yelled, tossing the iced caster to him as he rolled out of the monster's way. He landed in the grasp of a thorn bush, and could feel the pricks they inflicted up and down his back. Screaming, the creature glared down at him with dangerous red eyes, and the claws around its neck stiffened to point at him. Each began to generate needles of ice, as the wolf flashed it lethal white fangs.
Recovering his grip around the blaster, Gene painfully backed up into the thorn bush and was able to sit up in a firing position. Blood was coursing down his back, and it stung bitterly. He aimed at the animal, narrowed his eyes, and snapped the trigger.
Meanwhile, Jim had slid back into the thick underbrush, still clutching the caster. Iced and glistening, the dangerous weapon was far to big for his hands, yet he reluctantly slid his fingers into a tight grip around the trigger. Wincing, he realized that he might have to fire. Tannish blonde hair framing his misty, afraid blue eyes, Jim locked the gun like he'd seen Gene do it. Slowly, the caster hummed ominously in his hands, its antique magic stirring to life again.
He lifted his eyes just to see the wolf lunging at his aniki, who was painfully thrust against a thorn bush. Suddenly, the sky cracked with the blaster's fury. Gene sent a lead bullet at the creature, which was a direct hit to the throat.
"Yes!" Jim whispered to himself. There was a thick moment that, like descending fate, hung in silent suspense. They each waited for the thing to fall, but the wolf just snarled and powered up its spider leg horns, glowing with ice. Not a drop of blood ever was shed, as the wolf easily recovered from the futile blast.
"Dammit!" Gene hissed, locking the gun to shoot again.
I guess I have to, now...
Jim leveled the gun as well as possible for his untrained hands, tightened his grip, shut his eyes tightly, and fired. Like thunder, the echo rumbled ominously through the forest, and Jim fell.
Misty, painful stalked dreams paced through Jim's head, burning an ache with each step. Unconscious, he was drowning in pain. As the blurring blackness slowly began to beckon to clear thoughts, he could fully sense the jagged edge of pain stuck in him. But outside that wall of numbing pain, there was a reality, and there was a warm glow of a fire against his face. Stirring, Jim began to ease his burning muscles into moving.
The gentle crackle and sparking of flames was near his ears, and the silent blackness of starry space met his blue eyes as they hazily opened. Jim was curled up in a dark, dirty gold jacket, presumably Gene's, and was laying beside a healthy fire. As his vision cleared, he could see his aniki across the flames. Gene was drowsily staring into the fire, dark blue eyes ringed by sleepless bags.
With a groan, Jim struggled up, and instantly clutched his arm. Wincing, he gritted his teeth in disgust as he discovered a long gash down his shoulder, which had been recently cleaned and patched. There was also a slight burning across his cheekbone, and his fingers brushed against them lightly. It burned, and he quickly withdrew his hand.
"How's that burn?" Gene suddenly asked, lifting his dark ringed eyes to Jim. He was holding a charred stick over the flames, with a speared piece of meat.
"Burn?" Jim asked?
"Yeah," his aniki grumbled exhaustedly, blinking heavily. "That shell in there was a 22 - a fire spell. You must be tougher than I thought, 'cuz you actually survived. And you've only been unconscious for about nine hours."
The young boy blinked, and he could clearly see. At the flames edge, the caster was slowly deicing, the water streaking down its golden bronze surface. Jim began to shiver, at the deadly thing that sat only inches from him. He tiredly hung his head, staring at the fire. "So, Gene, what about that animal. Did I finish it off?" Blonde hair falling before his blue eyes, Jim curled the jacket around his shoulders, ignoring the pain.
Cadet blue eyes regaining their reckless energy, Gene grinned weakly and said, "Yeah. You finished it off, and started dinner as well." He lifted the stick above the flames to show him, and the blackened meat hissed enticingly. He brought to his his mouth, breathed on it to cool it down, and took a solid bite. After tentatively tasting the odd meat, which smelled distinctively of burning tires, Gene murmured contentedly to himself. "Pretty good," he said, "but it tastes sort of like burnt chipmunk."
"Chipmunk?"
Gene sheepishly grinned. "Its a long story; don't ask." He sighed, brushing the darkened flame red hair from his eyes, and drunkenly staggered up. Incredibly tired, he leaned against a nearby tree, letting the charred stick fall to the grass, where it crumbled. "There's plenty of meat left if you get hungry," he grumbled, focusing his dark ringed eyes on Jim. They smiled with their usual energy, and he seemed to become the aniki Jim knew for a few seconds.
The kid returned the reassurance with a tilt of his lips, but soon his eyes drowsed from the heat of the fire. Jim yawned, burrowing deeper into the jacket, and blinked heavily. Then, remembering the few seconds before the tremors, he lifted his gaze back up to Gene.
Against the midnight blue, star freckled sky, his flame red hair slightly twisted in the wind as he tilted his eyes to the sky. Gene leaned against a nearby tree, sighing painfully to himself. He began to search the skies, hoping to find a sign of hope to keep him going. The familiar scan of space never seemed so welcoming, a freedom he had forgotten was not immortal. He had to work for it, bleed for it, lose for it, but it would take more than that. He had been so damn lucky, so damn lucky to find an opportunity, a ship, and.... the things that came with. Especially Mel.
Of course, Jim would never leave; they were becoming brothers in a way. He smiled at the thought, sagging against the tree. That blonde little runt had looked like a stray puppy in that alley, the day they met , but of course, puppies didn't hack into illegal, extremely top-secret files and get caught. It's already been three years, he thought.
With his back to his partner, Gene began to ease his anguished but bright blue eyes close and fall into dreaming. I know I shouldn't, he sleepily thought to himself, but a couple of hours asleep would do me good. My back'll hurt like hell in the morning, but it'll wake me up at least.
The blonde eleven year old breathed a ragged sigh, and adjusted the coat around him to sleep. He might as well recover fully, because Gene would be out cold for at least eight hours. He must have been up the whole night worrying and taking care of him. Watch out aniki, he smiled and thought to himself, looks like you're softening.
"Hey Gene," Jim asked, looking up. "You said you had to talk about something. Something important."
With a sleepy groan, he waved it off. "In the morning," he replied, sinking to the ground, and was instantly knocked out.
"Grown ups..." Jim muttered, laying down to sleep as well.
Starlight guided his eyes upward, and the misted blue, originally black sky whispered back, smiling with its glittering eyes. The siren voice that descended upon him, like a flowing confort all his own, just sang to him. Each word became slurred with beauty until their meaning and sounds became irrevelent and a sweet breeze.
Gene blinked, the cradle of whispering grass swaying around him, for his dark cadet blue eyes to meet the dying midnight sky fading into blackness.
"Don't." The voice was gentle, but straining with emotion.
Sealing his eyes, he just smiled, ignoring the warning. "Don't what?"
"Break the dream. Break the dream."
He opened his eyes.
The Outlaw Star's captain was confronted suddenly with the steely glare of a mirror. He suddenly lost all sense of direction or earth beneath him as the sky darkened completely, letting the stars die into obilivion. He was being levitated in an empty space, one that he could feel vibrating the very atom's in his body with a mysterious power.
"See no Evil; Die a fool." The silvery voice echoed through his mind, vaguely familiar to his ears. Gene could remember... the voice.... brown eyes, a smile... His dark blue eyes locked on his reflection, an eerie, smoky ghost in the mirror. The man that was before him seemed to dark, too tortured and blood-driven to be him. It was just his eyes, cold and restless, ever darkening and narrowing, that offset the mirror image.
His lips formed muted, laboring words, which died on the darkness. He suddenly reached up to the mirror, and the image blurred. It began to mutate, his red hair dissolving into a dark crimson set of scales.
"What the hell?" he asked to himself.
"Open your eyes. Disspell all thy breaths dark. Life only brings death, young one sent skyward first. Break the dream."
His fingers rested against the cold silver, ice fringing his hands as they came in contact. The dark image slurred to a freeze, and the dark crimson dragon that glared back at him just grinned. Dagger fangs flashed, beneath the horrifying truth Gene suddenly realized. Wincing, he began to cuss to himself, as his flesh was sealed to the mirror. He wanted to wake up from this disturbing dream, but his soul seemed lashed down with chains.
The dragon smirked, the steely blue eyes staring with blood thristing lust, and he saw them.
The scars...