06-04-2014, 07:44 AM
Jensen's breastbone ached terribly but distantly behind the ache of realization. Jatinder was lifeless in his arms, but Jensen scrambled to lay the child aside and do something. He lay the child on his back and shielded him from the bark of gunfire. Screams howled through the alley, cries of terror and pain that would interrupt many restless sleeps in the weeks to come. Jensen hovered over Jatinder like his presence might shield the child from the worst of it, but the worst was already done. The streaming tears clouded his visor with humidity so that Jensen tore the helmet from his head as the executioner of violence passed by him. Jensen sat, shielding Jatinder from him, and watched behind the tendrils of hair curtained across his eyes while the man darted up the stairwell.
Connor! But panic over his ally upstairs faded when Pao came to him. She held up the wallet that'd been tossed to her, but Jensen couldn't respond, all he could do was squeeze the child's shoulders and beg that he was wrong. It was wrong to ignore children that needed his guidance for the sake of one, but Jensen squeezed wet eyes and wrangled with the Gift until it bent to his will. Nothing responded to his push for life. I won't let you go! I won't! A superhero, remember? Please, son, please. The tears dripped from his jaw, but were all but invisible in the darkness crouching around the alley. Even prayer was forgotten in his sorrow. The Gift reached for a void, worthless, and Jensen stopped trying.
Pao had directed other, older girls to collect Wallets and money from the dead. They were far less squeamish than he would have been. These were their slavers, men that captured them, were cruel to them: escorts of horrors that burned away the innocence of childhood.
A few individuals rushed out the stairwell, people who lived there, he guessed. One had a toddler in tow. Jensen watched without moving, and they paid him no attention. Did you know what was going on around you?
Pao had not seen his face yet. Jensen realized as much when he looked back to her. Her expression was grim and drawn, but she pushed hair from his eyes with an overly soothing hand. The grace of a child abounded despite torture. It melted the sorrow from his heart, and he found the means to act. "Can I see the wallet?"
She handed it to him. He punched in a mark on the city, the church that was going to shelter the children until the authorities were forced to respond. The youth pastor said his wife was a reporter, and she'd be there as well to ensure the public learned about the event. Given enough press and the CCD couldn't ignore the situation. "This is where you need to go. Take them, please, Pao, I have to return for my friend."
The sounds of gunfire exploded from the stairwell door. Jensen flinched into place in front of Pao, but the sound was only an echo. He needed to move fast.
"I will take them."
Fear thinned her voice, but determination remained.
"God bless you, child."
He wiped his face clean and returned his helmet to his head, if only to not have to carry it. At this point, anonymity was no longer a priority.
Life was the only priority.
"Will I see you again?"
She asked.
Jensen thought for a brief moment, "I hope so."
The response was truthful.
Accepting of the hope, Pao and the other children abandoned the scene of violence and Jensen watched for as long as he could see them before sprinting upstairs himself.
The Gift was securely in his grasp, but his heart pounded afraid of what he would find on the third floor. If it were death and carnage, it would have been brought there by his actions this night. The exact opposite of what he wanted. He'd meant to save people, not see them destroyed.
Connor! But panic over his ally upstairs faded when Pao came to him. She held up the wallet that'd been tossed to her, but Jensen couldn't respond, all he could do was squeeze the child's shoulders and beg that he was wrong. It was wrong to ignore children that needed his guidance for the sake of one, but Jensen squeezed wet eyes and wrangled with the Gift until it bent to his will. Nothing responded to his push for life. I won't let you go! I won't! A superhero, remember? Please, son, please. The tears dripped from his jaw, but were all but invisible in the darkness crouching around the alley. Even prayer was forgotten in his sorrow. The Gift reached for a void, worthless, and Jensen stopped trying.
Pao had directed other, older girls to collect Wallets and money from the dead. They were far less squeamish than he would have been. These were their slavers, men that captured them, were cruel to them: escorts of horrors that burned away the innocence of childhood.
A few individuals rushed out the stairwell, people who lived there, he guessed. One had a toddler in tow. Jensen watched without moving, and they paid him no attention. Did you know what was going on around you?
Pao had not seen his face yet. Jensen realized as much when he looked back to her. Her expression was grim and drawn, but she pushed hair from his eyes with an overly soothing hand. The grace of a child abounded despite torture. It melted the sorrow from his heart, and he found the means to act. "Can I see the wallet?"
She handed it to him. He punched in a mark on the city, the church that was going to shelter the children until the authorities were forced to respond. The youth pastor said his wife was a reporter, and she'd be there as well to ensure the public learned about the event. Given enough press and the CCD couldn't ignore the situation. "This is where you need to go. Take them, please, Pao, I have to return for my friend."
The sounds of gunfire exploded from the stairwell door. Jensen flinched into place in front of Pao, but the sound was only an echo. He needed to move fast.
"I will take them."
Fear thinned her voice, but determination remained.
"God bless you, child."
He wiped his face clean and returned his helmet to his head, if only to not have to carry it. At this point, anonymity was no longer a priority.
Life was the only priority.
"Will I see you again?"
She asked.
Jensen thought for a brief moment, "I hope so."
The response was truthful.
Accepting of the hope, Pao and the other children abandoned the scene of violence and Jensen watched for as long as he could see them before sprinting upstairs himself.
The Gift was securely in his grasp, but his heart pounded afraid of what he would find on the third floor. If it were death and carnage, it would have been brought there by his actions this night. The exact opposite of what he wanted. He'd meant to save people, not see them destroyed.