reunion /6, eden
Mar 10, 2024 1:09:19 GMT -5
Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Mar 10, 2024 1:09:19 GMT -5
The sun, where it sits on the edge of the road, is heavy, dripping molten lines of gold in the summer heat. 6 watches as it reaches slowly for him and the trees he stands with his back to. There's a bottle of wine held loosely by the neck in his left hand, it's a sparkling, Vinny said that was appropriate for summer.
There's a crackling in his ear, "You there yet?"
6 says nothing. The pavement glimmers at this time of day. It's been almost a decade since his first summer above ground but he still doesn't get tired of it.
"Captain?"
"No," he says.
"It's golden hour," chimes in another voice.
"Fuck."
"Fuck!" echoes the chorus.
"Deadly," someone comments.
"Thought I gave you all the afternoon off," 6 says mildly.
The line goes quiet. 6 looks down at the bottle in his hand. It's meant to be a gift, it feels weird to carry with him though, the weight of it is funny, too heavy on one end.
Feels a little like bringing an offering, like how they used to do in the underground. Commonplace things became currency down there, favours were granted and owed based on how good the item was. 6 isn't trying to barter or anything like that. His lieutenant just said it was bad to show up with nothing and so the wine ended up in his hands.
He doesn't know if 12, or whatever he calls himself now, even drinks.
A private line connects, "Captain," says that first voice.
"Vinny," 6 says.
"You haven't moved."
"You watching?" 6 puts the bottle down on the pavement at his feet and reaches up to pinch either side of his left eye. He squeezes lightly until the prosthetic shifts beneath his fingertips and he's able to slip a finger in behind to pop it out of his skull.
"I was," Vinny mutters over the line.
"Fuck off," 6 says, then tosses the prosthetic upwards lightly before catching it again, "That's an order."
"Sir."
The line goes dead. 6 doesn't fall for it, he waits a few more minutes before carefully pushing his eye back into place. By the time it settles, the ground is no longer sparkling, the angle of the sun has changed, bathing him in a soft, warm glow.
He slips his earpiece out and shoves it into his pocket. Then he picks the bottle back up and turns it in his hands, looking back from where he came, then turning slowly to look towards his target once again.
He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut when 12's face came up on the tv. It was Prez who heard his soft, "The fuck?" and then wouldn't let it go. Then the Vicar insisted 6 go knock on 12's door and Vinny, who's supposed to be on 6's side, was the one who put the wine bottle in his hands.
Somehow, not even an hour later, he's here.
It's been a decade at least.
6 should have been dead a hundred times since he last saw 12. He was purchased to be a chained-up dog for the Peacekeepers but he behaved well enough that they kept giving him more rope, made him a captain even.
He'd always assumed that everyone else was dead, not like their existence had a long lifespan. It'd never occurred to him to look for anyone, especially after the fire back in '89.
Fucking weird that 12, of all of them, had to be the one to end up in Nine too.
He steps onto pristine sidewalk and silently enters Victor's Village. It's creepy, how quiet it is. There's rows of empty houses stretching off down the street, ancient sleeping beasts waiting for a victor to come home to it. Nine has terrible luck though, they'll sit empty for a long time, probably fall to ruin even before anyone gets the chance to inhabit them.
The bottle is cool in his grip, the sun hot, pressing down on his shoulders, heavy handed.
6 grimaces. He's found the right place, brass letters set into the sidewalk give it away. Baptiste, 88th. That's the guy's name from the tv.
There's a person at the end of the front walk, he's sitting on the front steps of the house. He hasn't noticed 6 yet, there's a mess of wire in front of him that he's forming into squares with a set of pliers.
He watches him work for awhile.
It's kind of hypnotising, watching the way his hands move with such rhythm. Each twist of his pliers is methodical, but done with such ease it looks easy. 6 knows how much of a chore forming a deer fence can be though, when your squad is the one sent on jobs no one else wants, it's not always because it's dangerous. Sometimes it's just fucking boring.
"Can I help you?" asks the victor.
Avriel sets the wire aside and looks up at him. 6 notes that the pliers are still firmly in his grasp, this doesn't bother him, he's never met anyone who could kill him first. What does though, is he didn't even catch the moment Avriel noticed him standing there.
"No," 6 says, then he holds out the bottle, "Congratulations."
Avriel doesn't move to take it. 6 puts it down on the sidewalk between them. Condensation beads on the neck, then trickles down the glass and over the label to pool on the cement. He wipes his hand on his pants.
"I'm looking for 12," he says, "He around?"
