Okay, I finally explained the deal about the dime, this should clear things up a bit, plus, as I said, I've put Roger in the picture. As you'll see, it's hard explaining him in terms of good and evil, maybe disturbed is the right way to put it.
Chapter Seven
"You see this?" Roger whispered harshly, "Do you see this?"
The little boy stood quivered, his dark eyes wide with fear; his brother's large heavy hands grasped his petite shoulders so tightly that they started to hurt.
"Do you know what this is? What it had done?" Roger's eyes were like pools of black ink, they stared intensely into Robert's blue. The poor boy was so shaken with his brother's rapid change of emotion and the startling intensity of his stare that he couldn't answer. He managed to nudge his head a nonexistent inch.
"Do you?"
The voice was dangerous and very persistent; it had the hiss like quality of a snake before it struck its victim. The boy mumbled his reply, looking at the destruction he had unintentionally caused, "it broke the vase?"
"No, Robert. No." Roger slowly shook his head, never once breaking eye contact with his brother. For some strange reason Robert had a desire to look away but was too compelled and drawn to his brother's countenance. He had a feeling his brother was going to teach him a lesson that their dead father never had a chance to deliver.
"This." Roger held the dime in his hand, "This dime, Robert, you don't understand who uses it? You don't know what it is for?"
"To…to buy things?" Robert whimpered. He had a feeling he had done something wrong. Something he was going to be punished for.
"No," Robert's iris was as dark as the obsidian vase Robert had shattered to pieces. Roger's blond hair was a few shades darker than Robert's own white. And of course it was obvious that he would never grow up to become his brother's monstrous size. One of Roger's large hands could easily cover most of Robert's skull.
"No Robert, this dime isn't used to buy things, it's used to…decide," a cruel smile played across his older brother's lips. "Want to see?"
Totally baffled, Robert nodded his head as not to anger his brother any further. He knew better than to act stupidly when his brother was whispering harshly or using his low voice. It usually meant that if he was pressed any further he would simultaneously blow up and combust everything in his path.
"I'll teach you," Roger's face relaxed a little as he turned to this simple task. He grasped one of his brother's small hands and used the other to carry a fragment of the broken vase and the dime that broke it.
Roger led the seven-year-old boy out in the garden and set the broken fragment on the grass. In one of his palms was the dime. He sat down and told Robert to bring over the family's pet, a ten-year-old overfed cat called Meow-wow.
Robert had much difficulty hefting the large cat towards Roger, it came to him as natural that he had no idea what was going to happen next. For instance, it never crossed his mind as peculiar that Roger would ask him to bring over Meow-wow; Roger never liked that particular cat. In fact, as far as Robert could remember, Roger never liked cats at all.
Roger nodded as Robert set the cat down. The little boy regarded him with curious eyes, was this a game? What would happen next? It was all too exciting; moments were rare that he would spend any good quality time with Roger. Something bad always happened.
"Heads or tails?"
"Tails?" Robert ventured looking at his elder brother.
Roger nodded down at him, "tails it is then."
Roger gently lifted the dime, and then, with a movement so fast that only the cat managed to catch, he tossed the coin on his thumb and flicked it in the air.
The cat cocked its head back and smacked the dime as it fell downwards. Roger quickly put his hand over the dime; he pushed the curious cat away with the other hand and looked at his brother giving him a gentle smile.
Slowly, Roger lifted his hand and peeked at the surface of the dime, he smiled at it and removed his hand for the little boy to see. The cat came over to satisfy it's over curiosity.
"I win?" Robert smiled timidly, extremely unsure of his position.
Roger nodded and said, "Tails, you win."
With that he grabbed the broken fragment in one hand and brought it down hard on the cat's tail. The cat let loose an animal scream of pain and fled the garden.
"Tails, you win," Roger repeated over his little brother's screams of terror, he offered him the prize and watched as the little boy recoiled from the cat's severed tail.
Roger threw back his head and a fit of laughter enveloped him. Robert jumped up and screamed all the way to his room, where he hid, shivering and trembling under the warm protection of his bed's cover.
Snorting, Roger tossed the tail near the bushes, not far from where the cat was hissing. He stood up and was about to go back in the house to clean the mess Robert made when he heard someone call his name.
It was Abby, the pretty English girl had a red plaid skirt on and a cream colored blouse, her auburn hair was tied up in a neat bun, she greeted Roger with a warm smile that seemed to radiate from her green eyes rather than her mouth. "Roger its time, they're all waiting for us, turns out he had one day left of his cycle."
Roger returned the greeting with his own gentlest smile, the black mist over his eyes had long evaporated on first hearing Abby call his name. "But they still want the dime."
Abby stared at the ground then she drew up her gaze with a quivering breath, "Yes, they do."
Roger accompanied Abby's side as they took the shortest route to Mickey's house.
"I don't like the way we do things." Abby said quietly, "Why are we relying on odds?"
"The odds have been faithful to us." Roger answered simply. "Everything is faire and square."
"The odds were a child's notion of fairness." Abby snapped, "We're no longer children. We can figure out what's wrong and what's right."
"Fifty-fifty. The odds are fair, you can't get it better than that, you can't deny it." Roger repeated.
Abby stopped herself in front of Roger, "No. No, it's been doing us more harm than good. Would you say that having Sixkiller on the team is a good thing?"
"I kind of liked her." Roger said slowly, "And didn't you? Weren't you happy that there was another girl on the force?"
"First impressions," Abby said in disgust, "What we learned about her then makes me sick."
Roger started to walk again, "We'll be late."
"Tom deserves a bit more than his life tossed on a coin."
Roger didn't comment on this.
"He's human, he's a casualty of war, a POW, and he deserves a favor." Abby scowled, "No. It isn't a favor it's his rights. His freedom."
"You don't know what his capabilities are."
"We didn't know what Sixkiller was capable of doing."
"She was Sedra then."
"A few months from now we could be saying 'he was Tom then'," Abby snapped, "It doesn't matter what the output is, you have to give people a chance. Otherwise you're not human."
"We'll toss the dime." Roger said firmly, "That's fair enough."
"No. It's wrong." Abby whispered, "Its dead wrong."
"We're going to do things according to routine."
"A belief is what it is." Abby muttered, "A sad twisted belief conspired by kids. It's a sort of religion to you isn't it?" Abby wanted to add mockery to her statement by commenting on Roger's inability to understand anything more than the clear and simple -but dared not to; Roger has always been the most sensitive of the group and treated her decently, it wouldn't be right for her to mock him; he never once did such a thing to her.
In a strange way Roger has always been Abby's hero. If there ever was something bothering her he seemed to have all the right answers, there was nothing demanding about their friendship, Roger seemed content and satisfied when and if Abby scarified an evening for him; spending it by a quite place and saying nothing to each other.
It was true that Abby had strong feeling for Victor as well, but it was simply different than her feeling for Roger. Her relationship with Roger was of brotherly affection, and nothing more. Roger, for his part, wasn't complex enough to form a deeper relationship, and all things ended there.
For Victor, Abby was his savor, a time away from the hardships of life, someone who understood his bitterness of war and suffering of leadership. He was extremely vulnerable these days after the tug-of-war he waged against Sixkiller; he was no longer his old self. He became much more quieter and hesitant, his once lively eyes drained of energy and his warm booming voice tired and empty.
And it was those same eyes that regarded Abby as she walked into Mickey's room, it was hard not to recall the times things had been easier, hard not to remember their days in the beginning; where every battle was glory to the group. Win or loose, it was the days they live life as a mysterious fantasy beholding powerful friendship and even more powerful enemies; the days she felt like she belonged to the world. That she was allowed to understand the purpose of life, and –more satisfying to her senses- take part in it.
Life never tastes sweeter than when one brushes closely against death, and friendship never more appreciated when enemies prowled and pondered destruction; when your only key to survival and continuity lay in the hands of whom you loved, and those who love you do not betray.
Abby was thinking of all this as Roger drew out the dime and the subject was asked his choice.
As if in a bizarre courtroom that had right to decide who deserved life and who deserved death, the dime –the high and supreme judge- read out a verdict proclaimed by some imaginary jury.
It was so, that Tom was given back his life and freedom.
And Mark could do nothing more than stare darkly at the silver object that condemned his downfall. It was clear to him that a new voice may tip the scales dangerously against him, and that he could no longer have full control of the leading voice of justice, their leader third, his comrade second, and his childhood friend first; Victor.
The already finished leader of a once powerfully coordinated resistance.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
You get the point right? Basically, they've reached the point the animorphs reached just as the war was escalating. This gang, unofficially called 'Freedom Fighters' is nearly finished, they've fought in this war for so long they've reached the end; they've been pushed to their limits.
What you will find out is that Sixkiller was this person who shoved them over the cliff, she has changed the style in which they used to do things and destroyed the team by turning them in to this vicious pack, they're sort of in a recovery period and you'll see that Sixkiller had defiant effected on Mark.
Last point, even though I don't really mention it, but Roger considers the Dime as his, he's extremely proud of it, well, what passes for proud in his character.
I hope you enjoyed the fic so far, this is just the beginning, there's more
intense stuff coming up, but you do understand that I have to set things up
first, of course after then, the fun part's out.
