B. T. S.
Chapter 3
Whoever said you can't run from your past was wrong. You can. But not for too long. One day, it will all fall down on you, and for the rest of your small, meaningless, miserable life, you'll wish that you could do it over. You'll wish that there was some way that you could do things over, or even some way to make it better, easier. But you never will.
As Blake walked down the street, his headphones blaring and clouds of dust rising about his feet, he noticed the weary gazes of the towns people. Word had probably spread all over by now of who he was. He wondered if going the bar would ever be the same.
He went to the ususal table in the far back corner. A couple old men looked at him disgustedly. He sighed. Kira didn't even work here anymore. So why was he here? But, what did it matter if she still worked there or not. She was his cousin, and he firmly disapproved of inbreeding, dammit.
The bartender was hesitant to give him a drink because now he knew that he was underage, but upon Blake looking at him with his cold eyes, he seemed to more forgiving.
Blake sat in the corner the rest of the night, drinking slowly, waiting to be kicked out at one o'clock, which, in the end, seemed to come just a bit too early for him.
The blonde boy walked down the streets casually. He felt something though, something he didn't like. It was familiar, but uncertain at the same time. He couldn't quite understand what this was. He turned down an alley, and just as he turned, he shifted his pace ever so slightly, allowing him to pick up on the patter of footfalls behind him.
Probably someone from the bar hoping to pick up his bounty.
He walked fast. Within minutes of swerving between buildings and crawling through open windows, he had lost his followers. They really could not have been too bright to have been ditched so easily. Unless. Blake whirled around the buildings corner to confirm his suspicions. Nearly 50 robots stood before him. Their one red eye lit up as they scanned him, attempting to check his identity. Blake's head buzzed, his own thoughts were clouded with the humming noises all the mech. were making. He fell to his knees, unable to process a simple command such as run to his brain.
The mechanical eyes flashed as they raised their arms, guns mounted. Before firing, a voice arose above the electrical buzzing.
"Blair, I'm disappointed in you. I expected much better. Your stronger than a million of these little robots. All you need to do is let go and come back to me. Otherwise, I'll be forced to destroy you here."
That name. It struck a trigger in the boys head. His blue eye flashed. He stood up and faced the robots. One by one, they all fell, 'internal error' flashing across their eyes.
Blake turned to walk away, his eyes cold, unmoving, but he stumbled, unable to catch himself, he fell. He stayed there, face down in the dirt until morning, when he woke up with the whispers of the townspeople filling his head. Some men were carrying off the bodies of the robots. He stood up quickly remembering where he was, then ran through the line of frightened people to Vash's.
Vash would know what had happened. He had to know. This whole thing was his fault! He would know who had been talking to him, who had sent all those robots.
'Come back to me, or I'll destroy you now.' the words haunted his mind, plagued his conscience. Did he say 'destroy' to be cute, or did he know?
Chapter 3
Whoever said you can't run from your past was wrong. You can. But not for too long. One day, it will all fall down on you, and for the rest of your small, meaningless, miserable life, you'll wish that you could do it over. You'll wish that there was some way that you could do things over, or even some way to make it better, easier. But you never will.
As Blake walked down the street, his headphones blaring and clouds of dust rising about his feet, he noticed the weary gazes of the towns people. Word had probably spread all over by now of who he was. He wondered if going the bar would ever be the same.
He went to the ususal table in the far back corner. A couple old men looked at him disgustedly. He sighed. Kira didn't even work here anymore. So why was he here? But, what did it matter if she still worked there or not. She was his cousin, and he firmly disapproved of inbreeding, dammit.
The bartender was hesitant to give him a drink because now he knew that he was underage, but upon Blake looking at him with his cold eyes, he seemed to more forgiving.
Blake sat in the corner the rest of the night, drinking slowly, waiting to be kicked out at one o'clock, which, in the end, seemed to come just a bit too early for him.
The blonde boy walked down the streets casually. He felt something though, something he didn't like. It was familiar, but uncertain at the same time. He couldn't quite understand what this was. He turned down an alley, and just as he turned, he shifted his pace ever so slightly, allowing him to pick up on the patter of footfalls behind him.
Probably someone from the bar hoping to pick up his bounty.
He walked fast. Within minutes of swerving between buildings and crawling through open windows, he had lost his followers. They really could not have been too bright to have been ditched so easily. Unless. Blake whirled around the buildings corner to confirm his suspicions. Nearly 50 robots stood before him. Their one red eye lit up as they scanned him, attempting to check his identity. Blake's head buzzed, his own thoughts were clouded with the humming noises all the mech. were making. He fell to his knees, unable to process a simple command such as run to his brain.
The mechanical eyes flashed as they raised their arms, guns mounted. Before firing, a voice arose above the electrical buzzing.
"Blair, I'm disappointed in you. I expected much better. Your stronger than a million of these little robots. All you need to do is let go and come back to me. Otherwise, I'll be forced to destroy you here."
That name. It struck a trigger in the boys head. His blue eye flashed. He stood up and faced the robots. One by one, they all fell, 'internal error' flashing across their eyes.
Blake turned to walk away, his eyes cold, unmoving, but he stumbled, unable to catch himself, he fell. He stayed there, face down in the dirt until morning, when he woke up with the whispers of the townspeople filling his head. Some men were carrying off the bodies of the robots. He stood up quickly remembering where he was, then ran through the line of frightened people to Vash's.
Vash would know what had happened. He had to know. This whole thing was his fault! He would know who had been talking to him, who had sent all those robots.
'Come back to me, or I'll destroy you now.' the words haunted his mind, plagued his conscience. Did he say 'destroy' to be cute, or did he know?