At first, there was nothing. Only warm, primordial darkness.

The vast emptiness - open plains of sweet, endless n-... No, that's not right.

Slowly, all sensory faculties flocked back to the weary body, feeling a soft surface bending underneath its back. A dim glimmer lit his eyelids from the outside.

His ears perked up. A raspy, annoyed voice seeped into his brain.

"... Seems like he's waking up. Are we done, now? Can you get that thing away from my throat?"

Then, a young, calm one. Completely void of any and all emotion.

"No."

Short and brief. It was met with an exasperated sigh.

"... Look, it's all over. Wham-bam, stitched up, sanitized, kissed on the forehead… You know how difficult it is, operating with a sword by my neck? What else do you want me to do?"

"Stay. There might be unforeseen complications."

"Like what? I'm the doctor here, you know? Can you… Can you at least lower that fucking thing? I got the message, I won't try anything!"

"No."

Once again, quick and simple. Andy slowly opened his eyes, only to be met by an unfamiliar ceiling. Specks of dust glimmered in the dim light seeping in from a window, half covered by a dirty, moth infested curtain. He squinted, trying to protect his precious sight. Seems like he was lying down in a hospital bed, connected to some sort of makeship IV bag. At least his clothes were all intact.

"... Your friend's up. Don't you want some privacy?"

His gaze turned towards the source of all that noise. Two figures standing by the foot of his bed, both sarkaz, one much taller than the other - wearing scrubs, crimson stains here and there. The shorter one, clad in a dirty, messily stitched poncho, with a conical straw hat atop their head held their arm out, pressing a long, thin blade to the medic's throat. They stood completely still, their hand reacting to every little movement of the annoyed doctor.

"... Okay. Thank you, doctor."

With a simple flourish, they slid the blade back into its scabbard, which disappeared somewhere between the folds of their shapeless clothes. It was a move both graceful and utterly mechanical, executed like a typewriter printing letters onto a parchment sheet. Their empty, yet inquisitive eyes locked on the boy's, delving deep into his skull. Andy felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of the creature, immediately sitting up and pressing his back against the wall, as far away from the reaper as possible. His legs curled, hugged close to his chest.

"Gods, finally. Sick freak…"

With an unamused snort, the doctor turned to leave, slamming the door behind. A few dry pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling, crashing against the short fiend's horns poking through his hat. They approached the bed, arms hidden underneath the poncho.

Andy frantically turned to both his sides, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. Nuffer, Vinny, even a syringe, anything…

"I need to apologize."

The bloodthirsty creature stood by his side, staring down into his eyes with those empty abysses of theirs. Andy could finally get a good look at his face - covered by strands of long, dirty, black hair, messily sculpted, untouched by the tragedy of aging. Hell, he had to be even younger than he was.

The angel's breathing was a tad too uneven and erratic for his own liking.

"W-What? Apologize?"

"Yes."

Silence, again, broken only by the sound of Andy's heart beating right out of his chest. He couldn't grasp what was even happening.

"... What for?"

"I couldn't follow your order. I apologize."

"What order?"

"Quote, "Kill me."

Those large, curious eyes kept boring into his. Andy had no idea how to react. Was this a joke? Was this maniac just toying with his food? Why was he even here?

Was he dead? Was he going to die? Who even is this creature?

"So, are you going to kill me now, or…?"

"No."

His replies were utterly void of any emotion - neither warm or cold. Just blank.

"..."

"..."

"... Why? Why did… Why am I here?"

"For treatment."

Andy turned to his torso, feeling an unpleasant sensation wriggling around his stomach. Sliding his fingers along the tank top, he could feel a batch of fresh stitches protruding from his skin underneath.

"Why? Why'd you gut me in the first place?"

"I need to apologize for that, as well. Thank you for reminding me."

He bowed his head, letting his endless, jet black curtains of hair cover his face entirely.

"I apologize for-..."

"-Yeah, I, uh… I got that, already. I... What the HELL is wrong with you?"

His eyes twitched.

"What is wrong with me?"

The younger boy tilted his head

"... I feel fine. What is it that's supposedly wrong?"

Was he playing dumb? Andy squinted in confusion.

"What? I meant, why the hell did you just… Just kill everyone?!"

"I felt threatened."

His reasoning was simple, so were his words. Andy had to admit, that's fair. They were trying to hunt this freak down, after all.

"... Okay? And, what, I wasn't as threatening as the rest? I don't get it, why am I alive?"

"I needed a guide."

With each of his answers, only more questions arose.

"Guide?"

"Yes."

"... Can you elaborate? And can you stop answering with just yes or no?"

"I apologize…"

By Law, how many more times was this creature going to apologize? This conversation was getting tiring - at this point Andy felt more frustrated and exhausted than threatened and terrified.

"... I need a guide. I'm not familiar with this area."

Neither was Andy. He had zero idea where they even were at the moment. His weary body relaxed, letting his legs slide down to the bed's surface.

"And you seriously expect me to be your little tour guide? After you killed everyone from my… Uh... Posse? And also, stuck a sword in my stomach."

"I already apologized for damaging you and brought you here to be treated. It seems only natural to me that you return the favor."

The angelic merc's eyes grew wider with more and more utter confusion.

"... Are you fucking around with me right now?"

His halo dimmed and sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. Ow.

"I don't think I understand."

"Yeah, I don't think you do. I don't understand, either. I don't understand anything. I don't get why I'm still even alive. You breezed through the entire group like a knife through butter, why'd you pick me of all people?"

"Coincidence."

He gave a solemn nod. So that was it? Just a stroke of luck?

"... You're kidding?"

"Kidding? I don't know that word. Elaborate."

Their gazes locked in a befuddled staredown. A few seconds of silence passed before the swordsman broke it, again.

"... Please."

Right. Can't forget his manners.

"... You're sick in the head. I don't know who the hell you are, I-..."

"I'm Seven Dash Three Dash Seventy Five."

…

What.

"..."

He kept staring at the fiend, completely and utterly dumbfounded. At this point, Andy was convinced he was dealing with an insane person.

He needed to get out. To leave, somehow, to get away from this fiend. As far away as possible. Maybe playing along would help.

"Okay. Okay, I'm Andy. Nice to, uh… Nice to meet you."

The creature's tail perked up. Slim and long, shifting from beneath the long, tattered poncho, wagging with a hint of excitement absent in his face.

"Thank you, Andy. It is nice for me, too."

…

His eyes, two bottomless pits filled with absolutely nothing at all, guarding a null void, a skull as empty as the desert they first met on. Andy tried breaking the awkward silence.

"So… What's your plan, then? Let's say I'll be your guide, what do you want me to do?"

"Guide."

"Yeah, guide, but where?"

"Anywhere."

Yup, he was definitely mentally lacking.

"What do you mean, anywhere? Anywhere's nowhere."

"Then guide me to nowhere, Andy."

Slowly, the merc unplugged the IV pipes from his veins, twitching lightly at the unpleasant sensation. He tested the waters by swinging his legs over the side of the bed and carefully standing up. His head still felt just a tiny bit woozy, knees were still wobbly.

Height wise, Andy's hair sticked above the fiend's hat, a few good centimeters or so. It felt weird, seeing a sarkaz who was actually shorter than him, for once. His fear had almost entirely evaporated by now.

The plan was to make it out of this room, this hospital or wherever he was. What happened later was a matter for the future.

"Alright, sure. I'll be your guide, why not."

"Thank you."

The fiend reached into the endless folds of his poncho, producing a familiar weapon from within. Andy felt a bit uneasy at the sight of Nuffer in someone else's hands.

"I collected this from your holster. I ask of you, do not point it at me, please. Would that be possible?"

And again, with those big, curious eyes of his, the kid tilted his head to the side. It was kind of endearing in a way, but Andy didn't have the time to appreciate his puppy-like behavior.

"Possible, sure. No worries."

He snatched the gun away, feeling the familiar mahogany grip underneath his fingers. It weighed comfortably in his hand, the originium hiding within each bullet loaded into the magazine pulsated with warmth, letting the boy know that it's there, ready to be fired at any moment.

A little devil creeped onto his arm, clad in black - a complete contrast to his bright, snowy white hair. He rubbed his hands together and waddled over to the boy's ear, eager to tempt.

"Hey, Lawie. You got a gun, shoot the son of a bitch. C'mon, pop him and onward we go, towards glory!"

A tiny angel frantically fell from the ceiling, landing on his other shoulder. She brushed the blue hair off her face and crawled over to his ear as well, huffing and puffing.

"Don't… Don't listen to him, Drew. What did we talk about? No more senseless killing, remember?"

That's true. Sorry, W, not today.

With a small sigh, he clicked the gun's safety on and slid it into his holster.

"And the other one? The big rifle, I mean."

"Waiting outside. The doctor said I couldn't bring it in."

"... Didn't you threaten him with a sword?"

"It happened before I pulled the blade. He was very cooperative at that point. Not so much, later on."

Of course. Standard procedures.

Andy took a few steps towards the door, keeping his eyes on the sword wielding boy. His curious gaze followed his feet up to the very door.

Andy pushed it aside and entered the hallway. The boy followed suit, simply strolling to his side like a lost pup following a passerby. A light cough arose from the side.

The corridor was a bit stuffy. Filled to the utter brim with patients - sarkaz, both young and old, clad in dirty sweaters and military gear, coughing and bleeding out on the floor. A group of old ladies sat by the entrance to some poor soul's room, chattering and babbling like there was no tomorrow. At their feet laid a corpse of some young daredevil with a crossbow bolt in his neck. Flies had already started to gather above the pale sack of meat.

Yet nobody seemed to mind, as everyone had their own little matters to attend to. Everyone had their own spot in this endless queue to hell, also known as public healthcare.

The dingy yellow walls were bathed in the sun's orange glimmer, the only source of light in the vicinity. Andy's been to a few Kazdelian hospitals before, some better, some worse…

… And this one was definitely one of the best he's seen. Talk about standards.

"... This what you went through, for me?"

He tried throwing a teasing remark, which completely flew over the boy's head.

"Explain? I don't think I understand."

"The queue. All of this. You had to sit through a mountain of patients before some overworked Sawbones took us in, huh?"

He shook his head.

"No."

"..."

Right. That's what the sword was for, then.

Sitting by the wall, resting against a sleeping old man with a newsboy's hat covering his face, was Vinny, peacefully awaiting his friend's return. The originium inside the magazine fluttered with excitement, welcoming Andy back from the dead. He threw the sling over his shoulder, letting the gun press against his back. Finally, he felt complete.

"Right. You dragged me here, you oughta know a way out. Be my guide for a moment, will ya?"

He forced a smile upon his face, to which the boy simply nodded. His tail swayed gently behind as they made their way through the cluttered hallways, stretching out for miles on end - twisting and turning, like an endless trench. Andy shuddered at the dim memory.

Seeing how his new "friend" wasn't very talkative, he opted to stay quiet. A pair of nurses rushed past, dragging behind a gurney with some poor, limbless bastard resting on top. He wailed and wailed, as a hooded caster by his side kept muttering healing incantations, barely keeping up with the rapid blood loss. The boy in front didn't even bat an eye at the scene, instead entirely focused on leading Andy out of this maze.

They made it down a flight of stairs, past a broken elevator, then through another maze of never ending corridors, only to arrive at an overcrowded lobby. Filled to the brim with dying devils, taking refuge on the many seats in the middle of the room. By the receptionist's desk, a group of burly lads (or lasses?), rocking steel on their backs, gathered, interrogating the poor, overworked intern. She had a massive frown on her face, her messy makeup running down her cheeks along with tears caused by stress and overexertion. Poor soul.

Andy couldn't care much about the lady in distress, if it wasn't for one miniscule detail.

The posse were passing around bounty posters, shoving them in the girl's face. He caught a glimpse of a mess of black hair printed on the high quality sheet.

"... We gotta go."

"We are going, yes."

"No, I mean, we've gotta go, NOW."

He couldn't care less about the boy's fate, but avoiding an utter bloodbath amidst this densely civilian populated area was his top priority at this moment. Something about turning a new leaf popped into his head.

His hand reached into the swordsman's poncho, searching for his hand. After a bit of struggling and absolutely no reaction from the boy, he grasped his wrist and dragged him through the crowd, towards the exit. The last thing he saw was one of the mercs turning towards the two.

The hospital's door closed behind them, as they stepped out onto the busy, suffocating streets. As open as the area was, there was still that hint of stuffiness plaguing the avenue - the sand everywhere just made it even worse. With the late sun reigning over the sky, throwing its blanket of copper over everything and everyone within its reach, it felt uncomfortably hot and spaceless. Devils rushing to tend to their matters, the poor civilians of Kazdel, lost in the mud of war, simply trying to make it from day to day. The surrounding buildings didn't help much, either - a bunch of old tenement places, barely holding themselves together, some even had already succumbed to their fate, being reduced to nothing but piles of rubble.

Andy started scheming. A way to leave this bloodthirsty creature behind and slip out, unnoticed. The crowd was his best bet - diving into the river of souls, mixing and… No, that wouldn't work. He's a sankta, the halo sticks out above everyone else.

Back to the planning board.

The boy kept blankly staring at the surrounding area, presumably taking in the sights. A tiny glimmer of childlike wonder sparked in his eyes, quickly snuffed out at the sound of the hospital door opening once more.

They backed out onto the street. People stopped marching, making way for the two.

Andy turned towards the entrance, startled by the door being swung shut, hard.

Before them stood three nameless mercenaries, clad from head to toe in leather. The angel squinted and frowned at the mere thought of wearing something so limiting and uncomfortable on such a warm day.

One of the giant skin dealers perked up, pointing towards the little swordsman.

"See? Told you. Medic wasn't lying, that's him."

His companion scratched their stubble and nodded.

"Yeah, sure is. We got a net, Tippie?"

The last one shook her massive head, reaching into the bag on her back.

"Naaw… Got a tranq dart, though. From that herbalist floozy."

"Hey, she wasn't…"

"Tranq darts are for pussies. Just kick 'em or sum'."

Andy stared at the three with a hint of understanding. Just another trio trying to make it big. Though, this trio might just be a ticket out of his current quandary.

He cleared his throat.

"'Scuse me? You're after this here, uh… Convict, yeah?"

"Yeah, innit right? Ya with him?"

The large woman spoke again, flashing him a wide grin. Andy chuckled.

"Do I look like I'm with him?"

"You look like you ain't with anyone, Lawman!"

One of them men joined in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Exactly! Say, how about we… Y'know, for the trouble. He's clinging to me like a puppy."

"Oh, I say that's a great idea, pard! You gon' let us tranq him?"

Andy nodded and bowed theatrically.

"Be my guest!"

The younger boy's eyes kept jumping from the trio to Andy, with no thoughts attached behind them.

"... What's happening, Andy?"

"Nothing. These three are gonna, uh… They're gonna prickle your arm and you'll feel much better."

"I'm not feeling bad, though."

"Yeah, but you'll feel even better. Trust me, I'm your guide, remember?"

He gave a wide, forced grin. This was the right thing to do, right? He wasn't mindlessly murdering the kid, after all. Just getting his bounty.

The angel on his shoulder sighed in exasperation and leaned back. The tiny devil by her side chuckled and flipped a paper scoreboard to a 1:0 for himself.

A bit uneasy, the boy nodded, turning from the angel to the approaching three. For the first time since they met, his movements turned a tiny bit more fluid. Less robotic. As if he was expecting something, unsure how to handle the situation at hand.

"Right… C'mere, ya cutie, lemme just get yer shoulder…"

The syringe shaped tranquilizer dart left her bag, being clutched by her hand. The second the object entered the boy's vision, his empty eyes went wide.

His tail straightened, bristlening high into the air. In just a split millisecond, he produced the slender, black scabbard from within his shapeless poncho, revealing his left hand. With a click, his thumb flicked the blade's guard, separating it from the sheath.

The woman stopped, her smile quickly disappearing. Andy felt a light needle of anxiousness digging into his side.

"Uh… Hey? Can you put that away? Just let the nice lady inject-..."

"No."

His voice, however, had remained calm as ever. The mercs slowly pulled the steel off their backs.

"You reckon he gon' bite if I stab 'em with this, Lawie?"

Andy took a small step back.

"... Hell if I know. Actually, maybe we should just s-..."

The woman took a step forward. The dart inched closer to the boy's skin.

Tick.

With one swift, unnoticeable move, his right hand grasped the sword's handle and sent it high into the air. A loud scream of pain pierced the air, gathering gasps of awe and fear from the surrounding passers-by.

The woman's arm, still clutching onto the syringe, was now laying on the ground, perfectly severed at the elbow joint. Blood poured from the stub, staining the sand.

"The fuck…?"

"Hell's this?"

"STOP STANDING 'ERE, YA MORONS, FUCKING KILL THIS THING!"

Tock.

The swordsman shifted positions in a matter of mere milliseconds, now standing behind the woman's back. With his blade aimed to the side, droplets of blood sliding along the edge, he remained still, waiting for the devil to drop.

A soft thud broke the silence, as her skull fell to the ground. Another, as her headless body followed suit.

Andy took a step back, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Not this, again…

Tick.

One of the men swung at the boy, their steel glistening in the setting sun. Such a messy technique, such brutality on display.

Tock.

The elegant blade tore a fine line across the leather, letting his innards free from this prison of flesh and skin. They spilled onto the sand, to the crowd's disgust. Some took a few steps back, some vomited on the spot. The last one remained.

The tiny swordsman elegantly spun the blade around their hand, turning his empty eyes towards the final skin dealer. He was completely paralyzed with fear.

"W-Wait, n-..."

Tick.

And a mere third of a nanosecond later, the boy was standing pressed to the nameless man's front, his blade rummaging through his chest, piercing the heart. Life slowly drained from the merc as he fell to his knees.

Tock.

He reappeared a few meters away from the dying wench, letting him succumb to the sand's embrace.

With a gentle flick, he threw the blood and guts off his tool, laying it to rest within its wooden scabbard. It was lost amidst the sea of folds of his poncho.

"..."

Lightly panting, he turned towards Andy, eyes curiously boring into his. The angel was just as shocked as the gathered masses. His feet jerked backwards as the tiny devil sautered towards him. With absolutely no malicious intent, he stopped by his side, inquisitively running his gaze along all the terrified people around.

There goes his grand plan.

"... Why?"

The devil gave a tiny shrug.

"I don't like syringes."

His tail flicked, right before the very first scream of terror pierced the silence.

And then there was complete and utter rampage.

…

Caressed by the night's gentle embrace, two confused souls walked the endless desert, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city. Free of all burdens and chains, unknowingly bound to one another for an eternity. Just one of many - a drop in the bottomless depths. A tiny angel atop one of the souls' shoulders smiled and flipped a scoreboard - 1:1.

Andy kept shuffling his feet forward, breathing heavily with each drag his legs forced upon him. Behind him, a steady march of footsteps followed, unwilling to leave the angel's side. Finally, he collapsed onto the soft sand, feeling Vinny clutter somewhere next to him. Sprawled out on the ground, he let out a long, deep sigh of utter exhaustion.

"..."

"..."

The boy stood right above him, his inquisitive eyes watching the angel's every little move. His mouth formed a flat line, the corners of his lips as unmoving as ever.

The sandals on his feet tapped out a little space next to Andy, where he then sat down with mechanical, almost robotic grace. His arms, body, upper legs - it all remained buried underneath the heaps of folds of the dusty poncho.

"... That was a dumb thing you did. Very dumb thing."

Andy spoke, keeping a hand over his forehead. The sunburn was definitely real, even in the eyes of the twin moons high above, who kept cackling and pointing out the boy to one another, mocking the poor soul.

The tiny swordsman tilted his head.

"Dumb?"

"Yeah. I dunno where they raised you, but we don't usually slaughter people in the middle of the street. Not with so many eyes watching, anyway."

"I did not know. My apologies."

"How? Isn't it common knowledge? People see murder, people panic, people call the town's law enforcement, coppers come, we gotta run through a desert…"

"I did not know, Andy. I'm sorry."

No biting back, no fighting. All apologies, clad in that calm, childish voice.

Such an obedient little sheep, but also such an absolute killing machine.

"... Right. Right, you didn't."

Just what exactly was he?

Andy sat up and turned to the boy. Their eyes latched onto each other.

"What did you say your name was, again?"

"Seven Dash Three Dash Seventy Five."

Flawlessly recited.

He's heard some really strange sarkaz names before, sure. Short ones, especially. Two certain people bearing the same sigil came to mind.

The boy sat still, utterly devoting his entire attention to the angel.

"... Seven, then."

"Seven?"

"Yeah, Seven. No dashes, no nothing."

"..."

He gave a small nod.

"Seven sounds nice. I think."

Andy prepped himself up on his elbows, carefully examining the devil. Such a mystery. With each question answered, two more came to be, like a gentle hydra of unknowingness, curiously gazing at the outside world with its blank, glassy eyes. Eyes that were stuck on his. And he was stuck with him. A little, obedient, murderous puppy, clinging to his every move. Why?

Out of everyone there, why him?

No answer was satisfactory. He knew that no stroke of luck was mighty enough to pull him from death's cold embrace.

Yet, amidst the ocean of inquiries, a different question prodded his mind the most.

Just what exactly has he gotten himself into…?