Chapter Two

By now, Dave would have fled the scene; after all, if they were to catch him eavesdropping, he would have been captured; killed, even. Despite the fact that, yes, he was a great deal stronger than most trolls, taking on an entire group of highbloods wasn't exactly recommended.

But today, his muscles were frozen, eyes wide as he watched the scene before him unfold. He had never observed for this long; though he normally witnessed the prisoners being brought forward, he couldn't stand watching the actual execution take place. Once he left, the victims no longer existed, the executioner was a long way away. It wasn't his problem, he hadn't seen anything, hadn't taken in the disturbed expression of a life about to be prematurely ripped from the shackles.

To be fair, it really wasn't any of his business. If he were to save one of the trolls – and he could never completely tell if they were as innocent as they seemed – he'd have to deal with an army trying to hunt him down. And he definitely didn't want that. Besides, even if Dave could manage to free the troll and escape, there was a good chance they would be afraid of him.

That was just how it worked. Even though beings like him were a rarity - even extinct to some – the stigma would never go away. Hundreds of years of your kind swooping down from the skies to torment the trolls, and to a lesser extent, humans, would do that. Of course, that hadn't happened for a long time – the last great winged kingdom, Skaia, had been destroyed four hundred years ago, its survivors spreading throughout the land. And even then, it had been tiny; its lofty population had always been small, and had shrunk even more in the war.

But even if it was that long ago, the fear always remained because they knew you were stronger than them. Sure, you could walk around in a town populated by humans without being attacked – and even then, that was only because they weren't alive when his kind had ruled both nations. Many of the trolls – the higher blooded with longer lifespans – were still alive, had memories of loved ones being interrogated on the streets while under the watchful eyes of their "superiors." Remembered their friends being whisked away without warning, possibly to be killed.

When even most humans were still noticeably uncomfortable around Dave, it wasn't too much of a jump to conclude that most of troll society still visibly feared the i-word.

But no matter how much he tried to tell himself that saving the prisoner would be a bad idea, he couldn't seem to shake it. And no, it wasn't because he felt guilty; he'd only spoken to others on rare occasions, he'd known that his forebears did some pretty fucked up things. He had told himself that he was a separate entity from them. He had their wings, looked like them, only tried to fly because it was the only thing he really had left. To be willing to proudly display himself to the world, to show it that he wasn't like his ancestors. No, no, no, definitely not like them, he chanted, a mantra reaming its way through his mind. He couldn't be one of those monsters, he couldn't possibly share the same name as them.

They were evil, you just happen to share the same body structures, the same wings, the same name, the same everything. No, Dave, shut up, you're not like them, you never will be, you don't have to worry about them. They're a different species altogether, right? Yes, that's right, a different set of beings, there's no way you could even be that cruel-

Mind blank, Karkat gazed back up at Gamzee. Reddish tears slid down his face and his mouth hung wide open in shock, as if he had truly hoped that his once-friend wouldn't dare lay a hand on him. It had been wishful thinking on his part, sure, but it was also his last resort, a way to lessen the pain. If he prayed that Gamzee would save him, there was still a possibility that he would live through this. That was how it was supposed to go – friends looked out for each other, saved each other when they were in their lowest, most vulnerable states.

Then he remembered the dreaded "once" that preceded Gamzee's state as the club came cascading down; Karkat was barely able to lift his arms over his head in time, ducking underneath and letting a few crimson drops fall into his matted hair before the club connected with him and he felt a harsh snapping in his back.

His strength rapidly left his body as he sank further to the dusty ground. Gritty gray hands tried to clench in fright but failed miserably, mind too focused on returning oxygen to the rest of his body. It was then that he realized he couldn't breathe, that he tried to suck in air but it never seemed to reach his lungs. Almost like he was drowning, but the only thing suffocating him was his own body. The pain from his spine and ribs swelled hastily, too-large hands trying to compress him until his organs exploded.

It was only then that he realized that he was going to die, that the light would forever leave his eyes; he would be left to darkness, unable to escape. His soul would cease to be in this very spot, and all that would be leftover would be the empty shell of his body, the details of his life forever lost to the world.

Of course they had chosen Gamzee, melee-weapon-torture-extraordinaire, to kill him. Of course they had chosen his former friend – dare he use the term moirail, a word he hadn't thought of in years – to erase him. Of course he had been thrilled to show off his skills to a public that would accept him, unlike Karkat.

And of course Karkat had hoped in vain that he wouldn't have to die. That some way, Gamzee would remember the nights Karkat stood by him, losing whatever little sleep he would have normally managed to piece the rarely sober troll back together. That he'd reminisce on the times when Karkat was able to calm him down by merely raising a finger to his mouth and patting his head. That he'd somehow recall what mercy was.

Karkat knew, but that hadn't stopped him from trying.

It was why now, though he could barely manage a breath and gather the courage to mutter something to Gamzee. The other members of the team couldn't hear it; Gamzee himself barely could. But he didn't need to listen to understand the pain beneath Karkat's now-furrowed eyebrows, the anger behind his scowl.

The expression that said, I hope you fucking rot in hell with me.

Dave trembled, bending back behind the mass, the image of Karkat struggling to move branded into his mind. The wide open eyes, the helplessness of being unable to breathe, the fear of not waking up at the end of everything, of cowering alone with no one to help you-

His hands were jittery, his arms shuddering as if they were lifting the universe with only their raw strength. He kept shaking his head, trying to prevent the dreadful memory from resurfacing. Dave's pulse quickened, heart pumping blood to every part of his body as he tried to steady his breathing, tried to stop the cold sweat and chills from barraging forth and consuming him.

But no matter what he did, he could never stop it once it started.

Images mechanically danced through his psyche, straining their way through every one of Dave's cells. He could still feel the strangling heat of that day on his skin, taste the salty tears that ran down his face, saw the darkness of shut, scared eyelids; smelled the mustiness of the tiny cabinet he'd stuffed his body into, wings twisted and contorted painfully in order to fit; heard the gunshot echoing in his ear like it was happening here and now.

But then the images shifted, and instead of his misshapen thirteen-year-old body, he could only see Karkat and his blazing eyes darting back and forth in the darkness, legs barely longer than his own had been. The darkness of the cabinet slowly morphed into the scorching orange rock; the unseen form beyond the cabinet that had caused the gunshot slowly morphed into a towering figure with holding a pair of clubs. And then, only one thing crossed his mind.

-Oh my god, this kid is going to fucking die if I don't do something.

Dave suddenly found himself being lifted, or rather, he was the one doing the lifting - pulling himself to the top of the rock he had been hiding behind. Nails scratched the burning bedrock, hoping to find a chasm to grasp as shoes lost their traction. Gathering all the strength in his arms, he hoisted his body over the edge, barely able to stop himself from falling back down. The inside of his body trembled from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, trying to catch his breath. His feathers stood up, the muscles in his wings tensed and released.

Before the thought could manifest itself, he was extending his wings, the shadows from them peeking out. They swelled, greyness enveloping the ground, daring to capture the feet of the execution team standing by. The group caught sight of the ever-approaching shadow, turning their heads in disbelief toward the monster approaching them. From one of them came the shouting of the dreaded i-word and then, the spreading of their own shadows.

For once, they seemed afraid, but just as they should have been. They deserved it, Dave kept telling himself. He wouldn't let them get away, not after they had killed so many helpless trolls. They kept shouting orders to each other, gruff voices mixing together into a cocktail of anxiety-controlled thoughts. He ran after one, watched it trying to speed up in vain as he caught up to its heels and rammed it into the side of the crag. One by one, Dave followed suit, bringing down each member in a similar fashion, their barely conscious bodies falling to the dust. The cracking of bones permeated the dusty air.

Dave steadied himself, the rush proving to be too much in such a short time. He could barely breathe, had already exerted himself too much. But he had to keep going, he thought as he turned around.

The only one left was Gamzee, who had shifted his attention from Karkat and was now coming for Dave, a club in each hand. Unable to move away in time, Dave threw his arms in front of his face, bracing for the moment when the metal would connect with them. It came with an audible bang, and Dave winced, bringing back his arms as Gamzee brought the club down again, crashing it against a shoulder, and then once more; this time, against one of Dave's wings.

For a moment, he felt numb, like the injury hadn't happened. But then Dave could feel a tearing working its way through his muscles as the bones broke apart, making him lose his balance. His face smashed ungracefully against the rock, and he could feel a warmth erupting from his skin and running through his nose, down his cheeks. He thrust his arms out and pushed, rolling his body away just in time to miss another of his foe's attacks; a groan escaped his throat as he brushed the now-sensitive area of his wing against the ground.

Dave grasped at the ground, trying to summon the last of his strength to lift himself up. Soon, he found himself charging at Gamzee. The troll had yet to turn around, and Dave caught him by surprise, tackling him. His body slammed against the ground, head slamming against the stone.

It was over. Gamzee had lost consciousness.

Karkat's eyes were still open, eyelids fluttering as he fought to stay awake. He felt like the entire world was swaying below him, ready to break apart and drop him into an abyss. This was it. He was dying, much more quickly than he thought he would. His eyes would shut, his soul would be lost, just like he had realized.

He wasn't ready, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave behind everyone that he had known, even though they had all abandoned him. He wanted to have a few moments just to relive the few precious good memories he had of moving, breathing, loving, living. But instead, this haze, this pain, these breaths slipping in and out of his body would be his final experience. At least it would all be over soon.

Vision blurry, he stared at the clear sky. Cruel irony would have him die on a day when nothing seemed amiss, when those who could cherish life would be able to go out and run through their daily schedules, perhaps even bask in the sunlight. But not him, not the person who wanted nothing more than to live freely.

Karkat's eyes suddenly filled with darkness, and he let himself fall into the abyss. At the bottom, he felt a heaviness lift itself from him, a warmth brushing his skin, the pressure of something soft being pushed against his arm. He felt pain rocket through it once more, and then nothing.

He was free.