Chapter Two

"A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
 Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?"

- Leda and the Swan, W.B. Yeats

Huey slammed the front door behind him, fists clenched as he began to pace back and forth.

Granddad was out on a date, and because of the fact there wasn't any necessity in hiding his anger. About an hour ago, Ed the third, the Grandson of Mr. Wuncler, had come over looking for Riley. A slip of the foul mouthed idiot's tongue alerted the self-proclaimed revolutionary of Thomas' recent decision. Huey admittedly knew nothing about the case, but immediately looked into the matter because of Wuncler's apparent involvement. He was disgusted by what he discovered, and immediately went outside to confront the man. Despite their different political beliefs, and Tom's abrasive dorkiness, he had always had a high opinion of the African American lawyer, knowing him to be a much greater role model than anyone else in his hectic life.

He swallowed, ceasing his tense movements and grinding his teeth. Was everyone corrupt? Would he too one day abandon his morals for the petty, self serving desire of financial security? The afro-headed child crossed his arms in an effort to stop their shaking. Can everyone be bought?

The sound of footsteps clamoring down the wooden stairs caught his attention, and he turned to find Jazmine watching him nervously. She held onto the polished railing for security, lips pulled into a tight line. She had her Father's nose, whether she realized it or not, and a part of Huey wanted to take out his frustration on her because of the slight resemblance. He closed his eyes, turning away from the ten year old girl and taking a deep breath.

Calm down. He told himself, ignoring the weight of her silent, inquiring stare. Jazmine has nothing to do with this. With a heavy sigh he turned towards her, liquid almandine lightening his dark eyes. "I'm fine." He deadpanned, allowing no room for continued conversation over his behavior. He had been cold towards her throughout the day, and admittedly a small portion of him was still upset by their argument. Albeit he knew it was pointless, and did his best to move on, surprised by her desire to do the same.

The mixed girl offered him a small smile, swaying slightly as she clutched the stair railing. "Do you wanna listen to music?" She suggested, jade eyes locked onto his tense form. "It always helps Mommy calm down." Her small fingers tapped the wood anxiously, alerting him of just how greatly she feared his rejection.

"Sure Jazmine," He sighed, taking a step forward to stand beside her. "But I get to pick the songs."

Her jaw lowered, mildly offended as he uncaringly made his way past her and to the second floor. "How come?" She whined, nutmeg curls bouncing as she ran to catch up.

He rolled his eyes, impulse driving him to slide across the frictionless hardwood floor, his socks shooting him to his door. Large hair swaying slightly as he ceased movement, he turned to face her and said, "You happen to have an inexcusably poor taste in music."

"I do not!" She shrieked, eliciting a wince from her volume and stomping her foot angrily. "We just like different things." She followed him into his room, sitting on the edge of his twin bed as he took his customary position in the desk seat.

Fingers flying across the keyboard, he logged in and opened the internet browser. "Do you even know what kind of music I listen to?" He questioned, choosing not to offend her any more than he had.

Her swinging feet stopped their kicking. "Well, sure. You like...rap?" She replied questioningly, making her seem even less sure of herself than before. The evening sun cast shadows into his bedroom, shafts of auburn light caramelizing the wooden desk.

Jazmine knew her answer to be wrong when silence panned between them, only the sound of a mouse clicking breaking the stillness. Soft piano began playing from the computer, startling the young girl because of its unexpectedness. He turned to her, the seriousness of his song selection visible in his hardened expression. "Here's a reprieve from that constant Usher crap your parents call music: Something backed with actual talent."

Quietly they listened, a hint of nostalgia humming with the gentle melody. It had a happy yet saddened tune, and each note wore away at the stress of the day. A man's voice thrummed across the room, voice loud and passionate. Despite the stark transition in the music's intensity, he found the combination fitting, pleasant to the ear, and Huey almost felt reluctant sharing this part of him with her. This was a side that he hardly ever showed, not out of fear, but out of necessity. He was far too invested in living his very high standard of lifestyle to waste time engaged in pastimes he actually enjoyed.

However, Jazmine listened intently, jade eyes lit up in timid delight. Perhaps his efforts hadn't been in vain, for when he looked at her he felt he had been making a difference in someone's life, slowly invoking a change in a girl so young.

He shifted his hand beneath his chin, resting it upon his palm. Technically he was young too, the same age, but he held himself above the brain dead fodder of his age group, lofty ideals maturing him many years in his own eyes. Sometimes he found it easy to forget his own age-

The door suddenly opened, Riley entering with his black book bag in tow, chest laden with panted breaths. He shot a glare at the pair, tossing the bag beneath his messy bed with the metal clang of empty cans. "What?" He grunted sourly, not really expecting an answer as he pulled an orange bandana from around his neck and lazily threw the loosened garment to the floor. His palms and fingers were stained with dried paint, and with them he flopped onto his bed and kicked off his shoes, turning away from the irritated looks the older kids gave him.

Huey eyed the abandoned white Nikes, the tips of which were scuffed and blackened, slight green smudging of wet grass tipping him off as to where he'd been. Why vandalizing other's property appealed to the younger he would never understand, but nevertheless the eight year old indulged in the despicable hobby. Hadn't he gotten in enough trouble lately?

The song picked up in its second part, increasing in volume and repeating itself. Jazmine seemed to enjoy it, beginning to hum along quietly.

"Turn that gay music off." Riley snapped, and Huey scowled, complying if only for Jazmine's sake. She never liked it when they fought, and if Riley's attitude worsened, then a conflict was sure to ignite. The revolutionary found it difficult to abide by his nonviolent, familial standards when the eight year old disrespected him, having lost his temper on multiple occasions. Despite his irritating nature Riley was his younger sibling, one of the last surviving members of the Freeman clan, and it was Huey's obligation to love him. Their parents would've expected no less.

Huey sighed, gaze flicking to the corner of the monitor, registering the time. He turned towards his silent friend, monotone voice startling her. The wild, ponytail confined curls swung about as her head snapped away from the eight year old's slouched form and to him, their nutmeg hue shining dully in the light of the screen. "It's six forty Jazmine." He repeated, mutely wondering how she wouldn't've noticed. She despised walking home in the dark, even if it was just across the street, and her uncharacteristic lack of punctuality mildly unnerved the older Freeman. "Really!? She exclaimed, genuinely distraught. "Oh no!"

While he watched the girl gather herself with her apologetic rambles spewing forth, a shadowed silhouette crawled along the cream hallway walls, the flickering movement barely registered in the young revolutionary's eyes.

He ignored it, and the accompanying itch in his cerebellum that screamed 'fight or flight'.

Downstairs the front door audibly opened, signifying the arrival of the brothers' grandfather. Jazmine mumbled about having to use the restroom, and hurriedly left the room, narrowly passing the cranky form of their fast moving, oblivious Grandfather. She generally avoided him, sensing that he'd destroy her innocence with his schemes, especially after his movie theater stunt.

Robert entered the boy's room, snapping his belt and frightening Riley out of his relaxed position. "BOY! I know you weren't responsible for the Graffiti on the Dubois house!" The dark leather shone under gold fluorescent light, belt buckle glinting, and Robert squinted at the nervously grinning eight year old below him, peering sharply down his nose.

"H-hey Granddad," He stuttered, beginning to sweat nervously. "If you so sure it ain't me, which it ain't, then why you wavin' your belt aroun' like that? You'll scare a niggah."

The older Freeman paused at that, eyeing him suspiciously. Then he comically honed in on the book bag half shoved beneath Riley's bed, dull silver shining in the dark. "Wait a minute, what's that inside that book bag?"

His young voice raised another octave. "What book bag Granddad? You must be trippin'! You funny Granddad...Say, how was your date? Spending all our money on those hoes again?" The youngster did succeed in distracting his Grandfather from the evidence of his vandalism, but forgot to rid his tongue of certain trigger words, igniting new fires of rage in the bitter old man's wine eyes. "What did I say about calling women hoes?" He admonished, grabbing the child's arm and pulling him within whipping reach. A few powerful swings of his sturdy yet aged arms and Riley was crying, vocally expressing his resentment for his grandfather through sobs. It was an aggressive tantrum met with aggressive discipline, a familiar pattern of dysfunctional behavior that colored the Freeman's day to day lives.

Sarah Dubois sighed deeply as the front door audibly opened; briefly wondering what had prolonged her husband's entrance. He was likely just reluctant to see her and to be honest she wouldn't blame him. She had overreacted this morning; that she knew. It was a proceeding she overindulged herself in more often than she liked to admit, or would, and the guilt she felt afterwards was great enough to make her wonder why she didn't change.

She shook her fair haired head, cerulean eyes scanning the boiling pot before her. It had taken her quite a while, but eventually she realized why she felt such strong discontentment in her life. She was talentless and purposeless; bland. If someone were to personify her as a color, she would without a doubt be beige. The saddest part was that Thomas had very little to do with it.

All her friends from high school and college lived their lives in an array of vibrant hues, according to their Myspace and Facebook pages. Sarah had tried to get an Instagram, but she never did anything of any relevance to post in the first place. She felt like a fool taking pictures of her books and Jazmine's one eyed cat. That was when the vacationing started. She wanted to feel what it was like to live an exciting life of adventure, but it resulted in her simply reading in her hotel room, homesick and envious of the other carefree vacationers.

Thusly she spent some time self-evaluating, recollecting on past and present for a clue as to what would bring back the fervor attitude of youth. Her daughter Jazmine loved her cooking, as well as her husband, so she always considered that a talent. At least until the Freeman's moved in, and Robert blew everyone away with his gift. A slight metallic taste filled her small mouth as it watered at the decadent memories, and she swallowed stubbornly.

The Woodcrest Spring Fling had a cooking contest that she was annually invested in, and her oblivious husband trampled all over the dream. She had a chance this year, and he tore it away before she could truly savor the idea.

Her husband entered the kitchen, footsteps drawing her away from her thoughts and her meal preparations. They silently analyzed one another, Sarah forcing herself not to stare at the floor. The air was still, thick with clouded tension. His dark brown eyes were worn, and the way Tom's shoulders slouched showed a drop in his already low confidence levels. It had been a tough day at work, and her morning attitude hadn't helped any.

"Sar-"

"Tom-"

They both stopped, laughing lightly at the attempt. She raised her blue eyes, ignoring her own insecurities. This was her husband, for goodness sake. "I'm sorry-" He interrupted her, something rare for the respectful man. Tom pulled her into a tight, comforting hug, speaking calmly. "There's no need for that, let's just forget it. Neither of us are mad, so there isn't any point." Surged with relief and gratitude, Sarah's blonde head nodded, and a smile wormed it's way onto her features.

How easy was it to look at another's yard and perceive their grass to be greener. She knew, despite her worries, that she had married a good man. Too bad this feeling of contentment couldn't last, she lamented.

It never did with them.

Breaths still slightly hitched from his bed condemning tantrum, Riley stared at the darkened ceiling, his adjusted eyes watching the ceiling fan relentlessly spin. Each painted, wooden blade glinted orange as it rushed past the window, where a looming street light peaked through the blinds.

He thought of Mrs. Dubois from earlier that day, how she touched his shoulder and saw him, her probing eyes filled with concern. It had troubled him, and in the moment he had seen her as a nuisance. Albeit, laying in the dark beneath the comfort of his own sheets, listening to the whirling of the fan, the TV downstairs, and his brother's steady breathing, it was difficult to remain resolved against her kindness.

Mrs. Dubois was nice, whether he liked it or not.

A faint memory fluttered before his gaze, soft laughter and a hint of a woman's smile calming him, dark curls haloing her silhouetted head. He instinctively knew it to be his late mother, even if he hadn't ever seen a picture of her.

He sniffed the remnants of snot in his nose, the image fading, and broke the deafening silence with a question. "...Huey?"

Reticence swallowed the room, and then the ten year old sighed, apparently taking his time with his response. "...Yeah?"

Riley turned towards him with a rustle of sheets, eyeing his sibling's back. "Was Mom nice?" He whispered, almost scared to ask. This was a touchy subject for the older Freeman. When Riley was four, Huey allegedly went on an enraged tantrum and destroyed all the photos of his parents that Aunt Cookie and Granddad possessed. The result was traumatic and disastrous; no one was sure what triggered it, but it was clear the topic was taboo.

He timidly held his breath, small fists gripping his comforter, then released it in relief as his sibling calmly spoke. "Yeah...she was. Sometimes she didn't want people to think so, but she was."

Riley thought his brother's words over, comparing them to the memory of her smile and trying to see past that. A small, regularly smothered part of him hoped that if he learned enough about his parent's he'd remember more. "Was she as smart as you?" He asked, wincing inwardly at the unintentional compliment.

His brother briefly seemed taken aback, but replied quietly anyhow, voice soft. "No. She was much smarter. She always knew what Dad and I were thinking, even before we spoke."

The younger's eyes widened, taking in Huey's still, sunless form. Dad… He swallowed, speaking eagerly yet hushed. "What about Dad? Was he nice too? And smart? I bet he was strong too, like Bushido Brown strong!" Maybe the ten year old had finally let go, his uncharacteristic sharing of personal information exciting Riley. He curled his toes, wishing he could see into that big head of his, and remember his parents like everyone else did. It wasn't fair that they could see their faces and hear their voices, leaving Riley in the dark with their unwillingness to confide. It wasn't that the entire Freeman clan was closed off, but Aunt Cookie was the only other family member he knew, and she liked to exaggerate the good things and water down the bad.

After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, Huey spoke, his irritated voice breaking the silence. "Shut your dumb ass up." He huffed, curling further into himself and consequently moving farther from his sibling.

A passing car briefly illuminated their room; the silted white beams sliding along Riley's sloppily hung posters and tossed about clothes, fading dimly as it came full circle to Huey's many shelved books.

Riley scowled and rolled back over, pulling his covers over his shoulders. "Whatever niggah." He muttered in a bitter attempt at hiding his flooding disappointment.

The door opened abruptly and the light switch flicked on, bright light blinding the pair. Granddad scowled, barking voice cracking the before tense bedroom air. "Huey! Take Jazmine home, you know that girl is scared of the dark. What's wrong with you?" Huey groaned, expression mirroring his Grandfather's as he obediently got up, ignoring Riley's half hearted although characteristic snickering. "But she's my age Granddad!" He complained, inwardly scolding himself for forgetting she was at their house. For all he knew she walked home independently, but that was likely just the haze of sleep talking. "She should be able to walk home by herself."

Surprisingly, Riley came to his defense, recognizing injustice. "Yeah, plus you already sent us to bed. Why can't you take the cry baby home?"

"Shut the hell up." Their elder dismissed, using his authority to excuse his apparent laziness. Like he usually did, if Huey was being honest with himself. "Huey get dressed and take that sweet little girl home"

Huey and Jazmine stepped outside and into the cold, seeing as the temperature dropped quite a bit with the setting of the sun. It felt briefly like winter again, and the two unconsciously rubbed at their dry noses, wishing for some sort of moisture. The sky had been too empty too often as of late, all the life giving water missing from the still air. The world seemed to be holding its breath, frightened of the heat stricken seasons to come.

The older Freeman shut the door behind them, muttering to himself over how ridiculous it was that his ten year old neighbor still indulged in a lack of confidence, childishly clinging to the fears of her past. He glanced at her, the girl's jade eyes flicking from the empty yards to the still streetlights, hands rubbing away at her goose bump covered arms. She was both frightened and cold.

That was another thing, she was always without a plan, unprepared. The forecast said to expect another drop in temperature as the evening progressed, and she likely didn't even think to check.

"Come on." He grunted, walking past her and into the empty street. "Huey!" She yelped, nervous despite her house being right down the street. "Wait up!" The mixed child fell into step with him, eyeing his gray jacket.

"Huey, can I-" She began, only to be curtly cut off by his words."No, you can't wear my jacket. Your house is right over there, you won't need it."

"But I'm freezing!" She whined, grabbing hold of his arm and almost tearing his hands from his pockets. "And aren't boys supposed to be polite and give girls their jackets?" His breath clouded briefly before them as he huffed; glare sinking heavily into his young features like sediment. "We're practically at your house Jazmine, and I have to walk back home, which doubles my time out in the cold."

She crossed her arms, puffing her rosy cheeks out in frustration. "You're supposed to be nice to girls." She mumbled, eliciting an eye roll from her companion.

They reached the driveway, Huey stopping impatiently. She looked at the familiar home swamped in deep shadows before her, and swallowed, turning to Huey expectantly. "Well go on." He prodded, monotone voice lacking empathy. She nodded, melodramatically taking a childish step forward. The sound of rubber soles on gravel distracted her, and she glared at her impatiently shuffling friend.

The Freeman boy seemed oddly tense, anxious waves of energy rolling from his normally stoic form. His wine hued gaze followed a flickering shadow, eyes narrowing.

As Jazmine turned once more to bravely embark down the dark driveway, Huey grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Wait." He commanded, voice trailing off as his squinted gaze pierced the night air. "Something's off."

Riley was in stubborn denial of his dreaming. He was consciously aware of it being in the midst of progression, and decided a renouncement of the truth to be the best path. If he simply dreamt his eyes being closed, then perhaps he would stop lucid dreaming and slip into a healthier, deeper slumber.

Albeit his subconscious would have none of that, and it filled his ears with the instinctive, primitive fear invoking sound of silence. It roared, building in static volume and making him cry out in agony. Pressure increased in the center of his forehead, the blood rushing loudly in his abused pinnae, and Riley opened his bloodshot wine eyes.

He frowned, having expecting the terrible golden world to greet his dream vision. Instead, he found himself surrounded by a sea of smoke. It obscured the world around him, blinding him and abusing his senses. The taste and smell of it lathered his skin, eyes, nostrils and throat.

He began coughing, tears running freely down his burning cheeks. He wobbled forward through the swamp of gasses, desperately searching for a break in the heavy fumes. His lungs were painfully filled, every exhale returned the gray swirls to the shallow air. Overcome with violent coughing, he fell to his knees, hacking gray paste from his rattling chest. Saliva dribbled from his chin, stained the dark gray of ash.

His dark brows furrowed, eyes narrowing into a confused stare. Droplets of spit contained swirling smoke deep within rippling glass. He suddenly slipped through the black ground, arms of ink bubbling around him and dragging him deeper into nothing. The oily gunk pushed its way past his lips and into his mouth, drowning him. His wine eyes fluttered shut, screams muffled by the liquefaction of his entire being.

And in a flicker of orange light he reemerged, inhaling pure, crisp air with painful bliss. He collapsed into the arms of the familiar, beautiful stranger, breathless and weak. She rubbed his back in a soothing motion, smiling softly.

Riley untangled himself from her pale, freckled arms, looking into her golden eyes. Her expression gave the impression of a loving older sister, despite them being nothing alike.

She opened her mouth as though to speak, brows furrowed in slight confusion. Fine hairs raised on the back of his neck when her grip on his arms tightened, a squelching sticky sound resounding from her pale throat. Horrified, his wet eyes met a pair of shining black ones as a quick moving, slime covered salamander climbed onto her tongue and over her lips. It fell onto his lap, Riley violently jerking in an attempt to leave her iron grasp and escape the screaming lizard. A grinding, popping sound from within her chest, and the child was paralyzed as dozens of salamanders crawled from her hollow innards.

The buzzing of a wasp, and Riley found his flickering strength, jerking free and collapsing through the floor of smoke.

The wind rushed past him along with withering salamanders, and slowly his mind turned to dust. Particles of all he once knew joined the blackened clouds, and the instant before he crashed he thought it funny his fall was his saving grace.

Riley awoke screaming, throwing himself from the tangled, sweat soaked sheets. He bolted to the bathroom, panic deafening him to the ruckus Riley created in his haste. He looked in the mirror, slamming the door behind him while wild eyes searched for evidence of the terrible slime.

Instead all he saw was a scared little boy who was hardly tall enough to see into the mirror, a familiar stranger that didn't at all fit into the puzzle of his self-conception.

He sunk to the cold tile floor, shivering in fear, cold sweat and tears mingling in a terrible mix. There he lay, ignoring his grandfather's concerned banging on the locked door.

The young Freeman wasn't sure how much more of this he could endure, he may have to man up and tell someone about these dreams.

Sarah gently pulled away, leaving the warm embrace and turning back to her cooking. "So what happened today?" She asked, Tom sitting at a cushioned dining room chair and untying his black work shoes.

"Well Ed Wuncler came in about that Governor's boy."

Her movements tensed, spine straightening. A deep breath and she lowered the heat on the finished pasta, crossing the kitchen to open the junk drawer. "Is that so?" She tentatively inquired, wanting him to elaborate before she voiced her opinion on the matter. She pulled the lighter from the drawer; bending down to give Jazmine's cat a light scratch behind the ears before she opened the cabinet above her head. She reached above her and grabbed a vanilla candle.

"He's offered quite an amount of money to defend the young man." Tom admitted, hinting at his already made decision. The one-eyed feline stalked past the legs of Tom's chair, headed towards the front door to be let out.

The bitter blonde stretched her lips into a firm line of disapproval, fumbling with the lighter in an attempt to light the candle. Tom stood with a sigh, approaching the door with the intent to open it. She briefly wondered where Jazmine was, a glance up at the window concluding her suspicious of the hour. A grunt of frustration left her lips, fingers fumbling with the lighter which shouldn't have been difficult for a woman of her age.

A click of plastic, and the small yellow spark ignited.

And that simple action washed away Sarah's world in a rolling explosion of flame.

Huey grabbed Jazmine by the shoulders and whirled her around, throwing them both to the rough gravel as the windows burst in a flash of blinding yellow light. Her I-Pod fell from her pocket and shattered. Their ears rang, and Jazmine's high pitched screams could barely be heard over the roar of flame, glass shards littering the street. Huey held her down, peering back over his shoulder in disbelief.

Despite being disoriented, he watched a terribly familiar man walk casually away, his firelight illuminated suit scorched and blackened. The white haired man glanced briefly behind him, smiling at the staring child before heading to the park.

Didn't anyone see him? What happened to all the people outside barely an hour ago?

Jazmine's struggling had stopped and Huey's focus slipped down to her, helping his friend up cautiously. She stared in horror as her home burned, hardly able to move from the shock.

Jazmine took a tentative step forward, ignoring the glass, ignoring the intense heat, ignoring Huey. Her jade eyes shone gold in the blinding firelight, and their focus was one terrible truth that couldn't be denied."Mommy and Daddy are in there…" She murmured, body tensing. Huey swallowed roughly past a thick lump in his throat, blinking past the fog of shock in his mind and trying weakly to pull her away from the burning house.

She bolted forward with enough force to pull them both to the ground, glass shards biting into their hot skin. That didn't stop her from trying, Huey having to grab her tightly to prevent her from charging into the all-consuming flames. "MOMMY AND DADDY ARE IN THERE!" She shrieked, voice cracking, hoarse sobs violently racking her body. Her pupils were dilated and loosened nutmeg locks stuck to her sweat soaked, soot smeared forehead. She hit him with her small fists, thrashing like an animal. "LET ME GO!"

A terrible, high pitched yowling broke past the sound of her screams and the roaring of the fire, Jazmine falling silent and limp in horror as her beloved cat came clawing out the flames. It's fur was on fire, and slowly the miserable smoking creature crawled through the blacked yard. Spasms shook its body, the terrible sounds escaping it's small fanged mouth. Huey duly shook his head in denial, mortified. The feline came to a shaking stop just a few feet before them, the yellow flames faded to orange sparks against the few hairs left over bleeding and oozing burnt skin. There it lay, it's single glassy eye staring accusingly at the pair.

An intake of sudden breath, and the young girl began to violently sob, desperation for the world to rewind and undo choking the air from her slender throat. Her screaming didn't stop as neighbors rushed outside, helping Huey pull her away from the destroyed home as they called the police and fire departments.

Sirens could already be heard in the distance, first responders rushing to the scene.

The once rapper neighbor - now UPS delivery boy - Thugnificent came running to the house, blue bathrobe swaying. "Damn…" He murmured, unable to lighten the situation with his usual ignorant optimism.

Huey didn't remember who took Jazmine's trembling form from his tired arms. He didn't see the tears streaking his neighbors faces or the pitying glances sent his way. His mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only.

The man who did this.

The child's small, rounded fists clenched, nails digging into his palms sharply. The white shadow was responsible, the older man's knowing smile boiling Huey's blood.

The ten year old had always been passionate, fierce determination often clouding his judgment as much as sharpening it. At his tender age he had been labeled a domestic terrorist, and he had a government agent trailing his every move. Albeit, he never once felt he endangered anyone. He never would've guessed this would happen. Perhaps he had grown rusty, he normally knew what happened, what was to come of every chain of events. Why then, had he been blind to the potential deaths of Tom and Sarah?

"I've missed something.." He whispered, wine hued gaze reflecting the orange firelight dully as he retreated into himself. First responders rushed about the scene, oblivious to the revolutionary who had seen the criminal responsible for this. Whose mind held all the evidence they'd ever need to discover the truth. "There was a sign," He breathed, tightening his fists until they hurt, knuckles white. "There had to have be-"

The shadow.

His eyes widened. He had seen it, the shadow crawling across the hallway in his own home. The man had been watching them then, Huey was sure of it. And he'd ignored it. Slowly the ten year old turned away from the scene, towards his own silent home. It wasn't too late, the man was headed towards the park. He had let himself be seen, he wanted Huey to come after him, he understood that the first thing he'd do was seek vengeance. And it was quite unfortunate for him to be right.

As though coming to life, Huey's body bolted into motion, running home as fast as he could. His open jacket flapped in the rushing air, each breath clouding his vision for only a moment as he moved.

He would do whatever necessary to stop him from taking any more lives, be it giving up his own. Orange streetlights briefly illuminated his speeding form as he crossed through their radius's, slipping in and out of temperate darkness.

He would do whatever necessary to protect his family.