Sympathy and Tantrums

Death wanders around his cell looking for some sort of door to leave from. He remembers this place well, there should be a metal door on the far wall, but nothing. Cold concrete boxes him, and the familiar specter, in with no way out but for some reason he feels as though this is right.

They were never allowed to leave their cells unless it was time for training or combat. Food would be delivered beneath the slots of the door and retrieved after about ten minutes. It was routine, stable, and safe. For the longest time it was all he knew.

The specter sits in the corner singing songs he long thought forgotten. He felt compelled to go back and rest with her, this thing from a dead past. Wishing for a time like this, where the world stopped and the joys of a companions company could cause time to slow to a near crawl, was something he knew he didn't deserve.

More and more Death thought about what he had to do to survive. All of it was justified, all of the killings, the theft, everything, and he felt no guilt. Only one sin piled on his shoulders and it haunts him in this room, singing lullabies to soothe his crawling anxiety.

"Siren." Death quietly called out. His fist clenching tightly as his chest felt. "I'm sorry." So much to talk about but only one thing came to mind. He wanted to say more but his heart wouldn't let him.

"No." An airy rasp responds back and a crack in the wall appeared before him, right where the door used to be.

"Are you happy?" Death lays his hands on the crack and tries to dig his fingers in. He knew how strong he was and perhaps he could rip out the stone with enough effort. Somehow he needed to get away from this.

"No." Again the rasping spirit denies him. This was to be expected of course, since he knew she would see him as a monster. So much was expected of him and time and again he disappoints her.

Again the wall cracked but Death fell to his knees. Lips pursed and his eyes watered with memories flooding back of a time where he thought he knew what it meant to be happy. Back in the cell with his partner, Siren, listening to her quiet songs and falling asleep in her lap.

Then tragedy.

An event he had no control over, and it led to the death of his partner.

Some sort of emotion stirred. It is bitter, creeping, and causes his eyes to water. Death couldn't put a name to it, he couldn't think of a time where he felt this, but it is very unpleasant. He wishes he could kill it.  Then his face burnt and heart raced with his stomach twisting and turning leaving him nauseous.

He couldn't endure any longer and knelt there sobbing while the ghost sang calmly in the corner.

____________________________________________________________________________

Famine ran her M.A.S. as fast as it could, at Strife's orders. Behind her the town had been reduced to scrap lumber and various body parts, all except the church that stood as a lonely reminder that a town used to be here. Invisibility was no longer a concern and time was of the essence here.

"Hey Sis! I thought you were gonna kill him, he looks like he's about there already. So, uh, you know…" Famine piped up over the radio as her sister cradled the unconscious body of Death in her arms.

"Shut it! Change in plans, I'll explain after we stop his bleeding!" Strife shouted and held the child closer, to keep him stable. She counted the seconds it took to get back to their dropship, where medical supplies could save his life.

At full speed she calculated it would take minutes to get there, on top of the ten minutes it took to flatten a town and the time to get a table set up for emergency surgery and a blood transfusion. Time was not their friend and who knows how long the kid had already been bleeding.

"Sis. Dropship in view, I'll disembark and stow the su-" Famine went along with her sisters change in heart as half hearted as she could. This kid was a real piece of work and not entirely worth the effort, in her opinion.

"No time! Get us there and get out! I'll get a table ready and you'll get blood bags, all of the damn blood bags!" Strife screamed over the radio and ran the process of figuring out the kids blood type in her head. Their supplies included a blood sampling tester that just needed a jab to tell the type they needed, and then the tubes or the transfusion, after that stitching.

"No, fuck wrong order. How do I do this again?" Strife spoke quieter, to herself, as she continued to run over everything in her head again and again.

With a massive stomp and quick descent of the hands Strife was off at a sprinting pace. She hit the remote for the loading bay to open and damn near cleared it as it was halfway open, banging her forehead in the process and nearly dropping Death.

"Fuck!" Strife shouted and stumbled at the same time to get back into pace. Smashing aside tools and parts on the workbench of their hanger to make space and placing little Death on top to save his life.

"Ok… what do I do?" Strife froze as he went paler and paler, blood soaking half of his clothes and the entirety of his bandaged arm. She could feel time slipping away quicker and quicker and completely forgot what she needed at the moment.

Famine however was completely calm. She slammed everything medical she could find on the table next to Strife, giving her a mean glare.

"Well first you remove the bandage and we sew him back up, While you do that I'll start the transfusion. Think you can handle that, my bipolar-psycho-bitch-big-sister?" Famine's snark brought Strife back to reality and almost caused a knee jerk reaction of an argument.

"Shit! Damn it! Right, whatever!" Strife snatched a pair of scissors and practically tore Death's raggy clothes apart to get to the bandage. The bandage itself was the tricky part, as it adhered to his body from all the dried and fresh blood. She wanted to tear it apart with her hands but doing that would exasperate the already alarmingly bad wound.

"Done, the kids A negative. Alright so you just need to cut from the wrist up, it's still dry down there. Dumb bitch." Famine gave Strife helpful advice as she prepared a blood bag. The last part was largely ignored with Strife following her sister's instructions.

Famine continued to give Strife no end of shit as she cut bandages, stitched up an opened bullet wound, hyper ventilated after a successful procedure. It wasn't until the end where she saw Death's scarred up body.

From the chest down she could see cuts, bullet holes, gashes, burns, and all else you could possibly get from fighting literally everything in the galaxy. She stared as the adrenaline started to wear down but got no peace with a sudden slap to the back of the head.

"I'm talking to you! What the fuck?!" Famine gestured towards the sleeping Death on the workbench. His complexion was starting to come back to normal, but now he was sweating hard.

"Fuck you! This is important! This kid saved my life, after I planned to kill him! You get how fucking humiliating that is?! Of course not! You just spent the entire time in a god damn giant robot and took potshots at a town!" Strife finally all of the stress out and screamed inches away from Famine's face. Famine was less than impressed by this sudden surge of anger, seemingly bored by it. "So fuck you! Fuck War! Fuck this kid! Fuck this whole damn mission! I almost got nailed to fucking wood!" 

Strife stayed in Famine's face as she caught her breath. Her eyes are wild and wrathful, waiting for some sort of come back and ready to punch the hell out of Famine.

"You done? Cause I'm done. Done and ready for a real explanation… to this?" Famine waves her arms in the general direction of Death. She heard what Strife had said, and kinda understood the gist of everything that happened. "I'm not listening to you when you're like this." Again she gestures with a wild wave but this time at Strife.

Strife blinked away the rising anger, realizing what she was taking her anger out on the wrong person. "Right, shit. My bad. Yea, uh, I got captured and the kid saved me. He was horrifying. Killed all of the guys in the church without getting spotted, even hung a dude over the railing with his name carved into his forehead."

Strife recollected everything she saw, realizing how incredulous it sounded without even being there. She never expected her sister to believe her, she hardly believed herself. How could one boy be capable of such violence?

Holding the boy before felt different to how she saw him. This new Death was small and fragile, completely out of place for a mercenary. Scars marked him across his body and told her stories of terror from some unknown battlefield. Little wonder why the kid had such an attitude and antisocial attitude. 

"Brutal. So this means he's officially staying? You want me to disarm the mines I set up in his room?" Famine took it all in with stride, asking about the traps as casually as one would about the weather. Strife didn't think her sister would agree so readily. Screaming and threats were expected but this? What was her angle?

"Yea, do that. We should probably not piss him off too much. Actually let War piss him off, he might actually be able to kill the bastard." Strife could feel her old self coming back with the rush of everything happening dying out. "War really hit the jackpot with this kid."

"Sure. Hey you know if he kills War then that means he's the boss, right?" Famine made mention of this as she started walking out of the hanger, and back towards her M.A.S. suit. She let the silence hang in the air as Strife thought about what she said and the implications behind them.

"Shit!" Strife finally realized what it all meant and Famine let out a cackling laugh.

Neither of them really liked the kid anymore than before, but now he had earned his place.  A sacrifice for trust, and trust for aid. Strife is used to mercenary life and it all added up this mission. The kid can stay, for now. War however had hell to pay when they got home.

Death mumbled something incoherent and grabbed Strife's attention. She went up to him to see if he was awake yet, but to her surprise it seemed like the boy was a sleep talker.

"Huh, I would have thought you'd be disciplined even in your sleep. Kinda expect you to pop to attention at any moment." She rolls her sore shoulders as she watches him sleep. All of the action from before starts taking their toll and finds taking a nap to be pretty attractive.

As she turns to leave the kid to rest, a glint catches her eye. Something poking out of the ripped up folds of his raggy robe. Something that would best be left alone, the memory drive.

"No way." Strife picks it up and sure enough it was the data chip. Death would spin her head off her shoulders if he knew she had it. She considered taking it, maybe even trying to find one that looked like it to replace it with. As these thoughts came rushing in she felt a pit develop in her stomach, this might as well be stealing from a comrade. What kind of lowlife would steal from a kid that just risked it all for her?

As though to answer her question, the sound of Famine's suit stomping in snapped her out of her stupor. Famine, Famine would absolutely steal from a sleeping child and probably kick it to establish dominance.

"You owe me kid." Strife tucked the chip away in her suit and promised to give it back as soon as he woke up. No more fights like they had before leaving base, not when this kid can sneak up on them out of nowhere and slit their throats.

"Yo! Bitch! Help me dock this thing!" Famine blared over the speaker of the hanger and positioned her suit near her station.

"Yea, eat a dick! I'm coming!" Strife strolled away and thought about what they could do with the kid, now that he was staying full time. Things can't keep going like they have been, and she needs to establish the pecking order as soon as possible.

It's for his own good, really.