KEREN

His walk to the casino later in the evening proved an oddly peaceful affair — the few instances he had of complete silence to his thoughts, with Ethan long gone into Roxton — to do what, Keren never knew and was never told. The casino's bright lights seared his eyes, and when he walked through the employee entrance, the ripple of the slot machines created an echo chamber of tasteless defeat in victory. Father's Associates often sat in the VIP lounge, but he avoided them and their spread of toxin. Fists shoved into his own jacket, he hovered around for Chalen to appear, to give him the package.

He dared not grow complacent with the recent target on his back, as Ethan reminded him over and over. Somehow both smothering him and being distant all at once. It spun confusion across his mind with Ethan's mixed behavior. But I'll get this done, and we'll talk. He fixed his holster and made sure his jacket covered it, ignoring the glances the Associates gave him. Another rule Ethan reminded him of, no one would mess with the boss's sons if they valued their lives — or, more accurately, no one messed with Ethan, and by proxy, himself. Ethan.

It was always Ethan.

He leaned on the wall and sighed out the rest of his previous pain, toying with a piece of string, half-expecting Jesti to come around the bend in greeting, to hand him a bundle of starpops, or dragging Ethan along with him where he found himself caught up in their conversation which Ethan complained Jesti chose the most inane of topics. Keren frowned at the silence, hovering beside the door which led down into the tunnels, into the jaws of Gorgots.

He tapped his boot against the tile and found no more tears inside. Hand outstretched, he tightened his knuckles at the memory of crimson splattered stains across them.

Ethan didn't really recover, did he? Physically, sure... but... Keren puffed out a breath. I just... I want to make him happy again, but I don't think that's possible anymore. Misery scratched across his throat. He lifted his head at the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor. Chalen turned into the junction with a cigar in his mouth, and two packages in his hands. Keren detached himself from the wall, then raised an eyebrow at the extra baggage, one of them clearly a book, not something of material interest to the family. "What's that for?"

Chalen handed the tightly wrapped package to him, and on routine, Keren messed with his bag to hide it deep beneath the false childhoods, though he had kept some of Ethan's notepads for a semblance of normality, though school was nothing more than a distant memory.

Hands free, he checked over the open package. "A... flight manual?"

"Ethan mentioned you had an interest in it, thought you'd like to pick up some tips." Chalen shrugged. "Think of it as a late starday present for you."

"Thanks..." Keren flipped through the pages. "But, why?"

Chalen leaned on the wall as he searched through for an answer to his predicament. "I know you never adapted to this life, Keren," he whispered. "And I know your mother wouldn't have wanted this for either of you. I've known her since we were near yours and Ethan's ages."

"Family comes first," Keren repeated the constant echo and overturned the book to the back. "I'll do what I need to do, and I know what people think of me within the family. So, why go through the effort of getting me this?" he questioned, startled at the coldness in his own voice, but he tucked it safely in his bag to join the rest.

Chalen breathed out a plume of smoke out in the other direction, then studied him. Keren frowned, then folded his arms with a huff.

"Stars, you look like Ethan when you do that," Chalen said with a warm smile. "It's a gift, Keren. I don't want anything for it."

"Gifts often come with price tags," Keren mumbled. "Around here, there's no such things as gifts. They're favours, and they're not done with the intention of forgetting about them, so I can't accept this unless you tell me the real reason why."

Chalen doused the smoke in a minute of silence. "You remind me of myself when I was your age, and I don't know — I suppose I want my friend's sons to have a chance." He curdled the smoke and threw it into the nearby trashbin. "Keren, some of us got into this because we didn't have many other options going for us. Some drown themselves in the regret that there is no turning back."

The weight of the book in his bag grew heavier with the sudden gravity in his knees. Fear burned away his resolved apathy. "You gave it up."

"Yeah. It just wasn't in the cards for me."

Silence rang in his ears, and he smiled at Chalen. "I know I'm never going to get to fly either."

"You never know, there might—"

"For the family," Keren repeated through the sea of bitter sorrow.

"Possibly."

Is there really no escape? Did Ethan just give up trying to find a way?... was he even trying?

"Just keep the book, Keren," Chalen insisted with a huff. "You never know where this might lead. No, I don't expect anything in return. I know this life can be difficult if you don't have the disposition for it. Some people... enjoy it, whether for the money, or the power it gives them. Most just... take it day by day. We all have our reasons." The shadows under his eyes wrinkled deeper.

Keren stretched out his shoulders. "Are you the latter?"

"I take no enjoyment for what I've become and seen, but it is what it is." Chalen sighed. "You're never going to enjoy it either, Keren, so take solace in what you can. I'll meet up with you once you're done with your run." He left the wall and began down the corridor.

"Which one's my brother?" Keren found himself asking, to understand what was behind the wall.

"I can't speak for him — but I've known him since he was small. He was a complicated child, and maybe a little too curious and observant," he admitted. "I remember his birth being hard on your mother, and I suppose he's walked right into the harshest of life, having seen terrible things from a young age. I think he does what he has to do as well, but if you want my opinion as to what was the turning point, it was North Park." Grief folded his brow. "Everything else after kicked out everything underneath Ethanius, but... he's the best protection you're going to get, Keren. He won't let anyone touch you if he can help it."

Keren shrunk into his shoulders and swallowed the numbing grief. "Can you... tell me what happened at North Park? I just know what Ethan told me," he said, tightness crawling around his throat. "And he didn't tell me a lot about what happened."

"Probably nothing that Ethan hasn't already told you," Chalen said, then frowned. "Your mother loved you two, I know she'd hate this."

I hate it. "She was always angry at Ethan."

Chalen sighed. "They were far too much alike, Keren. Probably more than you think."

Keren lifted his head when Chalen walked away with his finality, then opened the door into the tunnels. He chewed on the new information, adding it to the pile of things to discuss when he and Ethan went out for dinner. For what remained of their family. Brothers. Trust no one, but each other... Keren pressed his hand against his agonized heart and fell into the rhythm of life. Maybe... Maybe I should tell Ethan what she said that day before... He shook it out of his mind, leaving it at home and focusing on the task ahead. Don't be distracted.

He kept to Ethan's entrance all the time, following his same, predictable route save for a couple new turns he took in confidence. In the night club district, he no longer kept his head down, but he walked in stride with the current, ignoring any loose partygoers who cheered for the joy they had in life, unaware of the jaws beneath them, ready to cut any connection short. Hm... maybe a restaurant somewhere far from the casino, but still in our territory... Somewhere Ethan might just be comfortable enough to talk a little more freely, but... Stars, I don't think a place like that exists. Moonlight guided him on his path, to the same decrepit building and the same moldy, dusty corner.

Keren rubbed his head when he left the building, tucking his hands back into his pockets as he made the same journey back through the alleys.

Malice tickled his spine.

On his heel, he swung around to check behind him, but the streetlights cast twisting shadows along the concrete ground. It inched across his spine as a hunting spider, so he continued, but kept his pace quick. Keep walking. He lowered his hand to the holster when the tickle turned into an intensifying trickle, a plea for him to run, a layer of panic he ignored.

Intent. Purpose. Willpower. Keren slammed to a stop in the alley, following the panic on its current when a masked figure came out of the shadows, a knife glinting in the light.

Fuck!

Another came around the bend and blocked his escape.

Fuck!

Chain in his hands, instinct moved him when fear threatened to freeze him in place. Days upon days of Ethan beating into his head how to move past the ice. Anything to live. His foot smashed into the nearest one's ankle, and he heard a click of malice drive into his head, and when he leaned back, he widened his eyes when a blaster shot missed him by an inch.

Confusion danced, and he slipped out his own chain blaster. One kick into the knife-wielder's chest, he threw them to the side, pointing his own weapon at the other as they approached in their reload. No! His finger rested over the release, but hesitation prickled his spine and chewed on the hate and spite. His thumb flipped the dial as they finished their reload. Another burst of intent exploded down his arm, but as he turned, a sharp trail of river pain sliced through his sleeve, dragging across his bone.

Worlds went into slow motion, a prickle of malice.

Breathing hard, he moved his foot behind the knife wielder, sending a paralyzing round into their back, though their noiseless gasp echoed outside. Onto the next as the pulsating world drove him forward on his instinct. He grappled with them. Crimson splattered his hands when he dug his fingers into theirs, driving his knee into their hip before shoving them to the ground.

Fuck! I can't lead them back to the entrance! I need to lose them!

Keren ran.

If I don't lose them I'm going to die!

Panicked energy coursed through his veins, but he refused to turn back, throwing himself into alleyways to lose his hunters.

All the caution in the world meant jack shit.

He stumbled when a wave of exhaustion brought searing, agonizing pain.

He looked down at the source.

Blood bloomed across his sleeve, where the knife nicked a long trail down the entire length of his forearm. It poured and stuck to the fabric, and he stared at it in disbelief. Droplets curled around his fingers when he put his other hand on it, a soft whimper leaving his throat as the confused exhaustion pulsed into his head. No...

Keren dragged himself and hoped to lose himself in the escape.

No... the casino is too far away... Keren released a soft gasp when another intensifying wave of bloody pain chewed at his open skin. No... He dragged his feet forward, stumbling on his own weakness as he left blood behind him, trying to keep his arm wrapped in the ruined fabric of his sleeves, tucking it close to his chest with a laughing sob.

I'm going to die, they're going to catch up with me...

Keren hugged his arm and drove his teeth into his tongue, a flimsy distraction as his hand curled with his other hand wrapped around his wrist. Fuck... its deep. It's deep. The hunt of malice kept pushing him, pushing him. He could barely move. It stiffened his legs as he slumped forward, but refused to stop. Walk, Ethan's voice reminded him.

Keren whimpered and tapped open his red wristpad, finding a dot among the goo.

He followed it instead, trying to turn extra corners, all to avoid the shadows.

Fuck, why today?

The thought almost made him burst out into further laughter, but the pain dogged his mind.

He pressed his thumb into his stained palm, hissing through his teeth when the fabric stuck to the wound.

I'm not going to make it...

Worms wiggled at the edge of his vision, but he continued.

I have to.

I promised.

Keren found the entrance, using his shoulder to open up the secret path, stumbling into the barren basement with no upper staircase. His knees cracked against the dusty floor, and he gasped out in pain as the door shut and locked behind him. Ethan's failsafe, wrapped with a chain encryption.

"Fuck," he rasped and crawled to a corner, keeping his red arm against his chest. His compearl slipped out of his fingers when he tried to unlatch it from his ear. He unfurled the sticky fabric, and choked when it sent a flash of searing flames through his serrated skin. He swayed on his knees, then latched onto the compearl, using his shaking thumb to roll through his contacts, the few that he had.

Ethan.

He clicked his line, but he slipped the location of the safehouse into it. In repetitive motion. Over and over and over with the spinning black hole growing in the corners and taking away his ability to breathe. One last click, the soft ringing of Ethan calling him back lulled him into the heaviness along his mind.

He let go of the compearl.

It continued to ring.

And ring.

And ring.

Keren tucked his arm closer to him and fought to imagine wings on either side of him. Wings and stars.

It stopped ringing.

Only silence in the dark.

He doesn't deserve it... Tears cracked the clamminess along his cheeks. I can't do this to him...

Numbness swept across his limbs, centralizing over his heart.

Something clicked.

It rang again.

He tore open his eyes when his strength dissipated further at the sounds.

Ethan loomed over him, clutching his shoulders in wide-eyed terror.

"Sellzora," he hissed, scooping him closer. "I need you to talk to me."

"I'm dying."

Ethan shook his head and wrapped one arm across his chest, dragging him forward. The movement alone sent the world spiraling. "No, you're not. You've just lost some blood. I can stop it." In a world of ringing and screaming, Ethan's voice remained clear. "You're going to be okay. I'll get you to Dr. Evelion once I've gotten the worst out of the way."

How can he be so calm?

"Ethan..." Keren gasped out a sob when Ethan pressed a disinfect tape into his wound. Flames chewed at his skin, embers of hatred at the glittering medis spreading across it and searing some of the edges. "Fuck!"

"You can still feel it." Ethan dug with no sense of gentleness, moving his arm to block his mouth as he reached the edge of where the knife glided out of his forearm. "Stars."

"I don't like it when you say that." Ethan ignored him and tugged out a blood compress. "Where did you get that?"

"I always keep some in my safespots," Ethan mumbled as he rolled up the rest of his sleeve.

"Ethan..."

"You'll be fine," he repeated.

It swirled in nausea as he tightened the compress and darkness swallowed him again.

"Sellzora?"

You sound so far away...

Malice and hate chewed.

Yet you're right here... Ethan. Ethan, don't abandon me, don't kill a part of yourself for me. Don't kill the part of you that still has her, that was my big brother who used to sit with me when I couldn't sleep and built ships with me, who used to laugh and smile... Don't. We can still be...

Stars bloomed across the expanse, and he longed to grow wings.

A family?