The most infamously uncomfortable place Emme had woken up was a pile of tin cans in the back seat of a jeep. His heartbeat flipped as he began to move. This was in juxtaposition to his dawdling movement as he opened the jeep door. But when he finally did, he tumbled down to the ground with a few cans following after him. The landing was softer than expected due to a coat of snow on the earth.
The horizon was stark, but the landscape was snow painted, twinkling, and had tracks and prints peppered here and there. Emme began to stand up as the situation presented itself. Ahead of him was a train track, but in between the rails was Alex, who was bound. In between Emme and Alex was Stone Hand, who was sermonizing toward the latter. “Ho-es that hold safe thriving -eings, -ut -ehind us are cities and towns that have only -ecome corrupted over time. -ut it was us, the Riot Suitors, who rescued the innocent from those destinations. And we -rought them to that -lace, that haven, where they could thrive and live like they never could have -efore. It was only relatively recent that we had decided to take action against those who have somehow -ecome corru-ted whilst under our hands. That is why you are here, you shall -e -unished for your corru-tion and attem-ts at corru-tion of Emme-,” Stone Hand was silenced as Alex yelled to the executioner. “I don't care about corrupting Emme or whatever, all I wanted to do is return him to that town and then I would just disappear,” Alex’s voice clutched rage, but it was a thin veil for dread.
“S-eaking of which, Emme,” Stone Hand spun around, revealing a rifle held by the menacing statue of a being “I wish to give this to you, with this you can take action toward reclaiming your -eing. Take this, and -ith it extinguish the fla-es created by Alex.” Emme took hold of the gun from a cold gloved hand. He walked forward, the snow crunching under his feet. Alex’s face began to become clear, with the fine detail of a trail appearing. As he gripped the metal and wood of the weapon, memories of being shown how to shoot different types of firearms, just in case something was to happen. Emme raised the butt of the rifle to his shoulder, put his finger on the trigger, spun his body around, and aimed at Stone Hand. The bolt only jutted forward when he fired. In response, a combat knife came flying at Emme. It hit his chest, he was blown over, and became still just outside the tracks.
A train whistle could be heard in the distance.
“I should have known that you would fail that test if that -astard had cut his claws dee- enough into you,” Stone Hand grumbled as Emme was plucked and drawn up by his trench coat collar. The boy’s face was stared at with bits of disappointment, anger, and the feeling of wasted time. Emme grabbed the knife in his chest and stabbed at the mask in front of him. He only punctured it, but then was thrown to the side, leaving a long cut above the mask’s exhalation valve. “Why are you resisting? If you would su-mit there will -e only the cleansing of your -eing. Have you been so corru-ted that you cannot see reality,” Stone Hand pondered as Emme forced himself up. He felt about the inside of his trench coat then withdrew his hand, it more like a fist with a knife in its center. The snow crunched as Emme recovered his footing, and as soon as he assembled himself Stone Hand, who had put the rifle in one hand, hooked the cut in the mask, and pulled down, “Do you think damaging my equi--ent would hurt -e? Hundreds of you have acted the sa-e -ay, destroying our gear. -ut it is not the gear that -akes a Riot Suitor, -hat -akes us is our trained DNA that has -een -assed down and strengthened,” Stone Hand snapped, and by the time the anger subsided, Stone Hand had severed the exhalation valve from the mask and launched it to the ground. This exposed the uncovered coral teeth and puce, pulpy gums of the executioner. The pair were enclosed by ring of scars. The rifle was loaded and aimed at Emme. Stone Hand was abrupt to fire, but the shot was botched and barely hit the rail beside him. “Da--it! Why can't I ever get shooting right! I-it -on't -atter I can't get cut again,” Stone Hand erupted as the rifle was reloaded.
The train whistle was now a booming.
As Emme raced forward, Stone Hand clenched and reeled back the free hand. The fist was thrown forward, but it was met with a knife. It slipped between the fingers, but only was halted when the top of the handle exactly met the knuckles. Stone Hand's body retracted as a scream of agony exploded. A loose glove now held the rifle, and Emme yanked it into his possession. The towering mound tried to regain a strong stance with the enemy shown his size, but this only left an open face that stared down at Emme. He bashed the face above him with the butt of the rifle, knocking pink teeth down their owner’s throat. With Stone Hand choking, Emme ran over to the still bound Alex, who was stunned by what the boy had done. He tossed the rifle to the other side of the tracks, brought out the combat knife, cut, and pulled away the ropes. Once this was done, Emme went behind Alex and pulled him away from the tracks. He sat up and grabbed the rifle when he heard vomiting. Alex stood up to see Stone Hand was now boiling with anger. The steam engine’s fists were solid and movement toward the two were blunt stomps. Alex readied the rifle, steadied it. Stone Hand was now standing in the same place Alex was moments ago. He fired, the bullet did hit, but it hit Stone Hand in the dead center of the chest. Alex's hands loosened from the rifle and his face went pale “I missed,” he admitted. The fists, and even the body, of Stone Hand seemed to release. After that time seemed to be frozen, the only movement was blood dripping from the gums of Stone Hand.
It seemed like hours later when the train’s whistle returned, and with it came its originator. And just like that, the tower was obliterated and replaced by a wall of moving train cars. Emme and Alex stared at them. They heard music, but eventually this shifted into moos and stamping. After the train’s last car passed out of view, there was nothing. No sound, no movement, not even the cold seemed to touch the two. “We need to talk,” Emme decreed with drops of regret in his voice.
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