Wise Man Shuts His Mouth //Opius

He had not appreciated the rough treatment he had received after going for a night-time stroll. Sure his little escapade had resulted in meeting with a bunch of Peacekeepers, all of which had threatened him, and had cruelly decided his tongue was theirs to mount on a board. That had left him smirking, though, he often wondered how people could demand a simple thing like his tongue when he had been captured, beaten and bashed so many times that it was a wonder he still had a tongue in his mouth. It would never cease to lend any form of curiosity when he stuck it out, eyes swivelling until they met at the bridge of his nose, the blurry form of this bright pink muscle so easily visible. There had been over a hundred times when he had thought it would be taken from him, but each time he had wedeled his way out, using his skill in stealth, and well a few times it had been so close that he had had to rely on the help of others. Something he did not like. Opius Holmes was a proud fool and being shoved back into his room by a boot to his ass was just one of those small things that left his cheeks red and his eyes screwing up into a fearsome scowl. It would never last long, though, because above all else he had gained the ability to forgive and forget easily. It was something that had been forced upon him rather than by choice.

In this business you had to learn fast and strangely enough being able to forgive quickly was one of them. Without that ability you couldn’t begin creating the trust that had been evidently destroyed by whatever had happened. And without trust you might as well just walk into the Justice Building and hand yourself over. But then there was that fine line between letting someone back into your tightly strung circle of trust and leaving them out to the point where you could stand back and say his life did not matter. These were all lessons Opius was learning and unlike many of the other kiddies around him he was learning much faster. He hoped that Party Poison could see that, he had only been back in business for a short amount of time, his days of resting and recovering from his last ordeal still fresh on his young mind. Sometimes he still woke up with a scream on his lips, the cold, burning sting of a knife on his back like the flame of the iron against his skin. At night his body didn’t seem to match up the pain with what was causing it and instead gave him the worst of it. He’d stopped crying though.

He hadn’t cried since the day he had decided to go for a night time stroll. The last tears that had been shed had been from the night before, when he had sat on his bed and unwound the bandages around his back. Underneath he had been meet with torn, ragged skin and cars that seemed to lace every inch of his purple and blue bruised back. The sight had been horrifying, mixed in underneath had been the obvious lumps of burned skin, wounds he knew would never heal. They dotted his lower back and the softer sides of his skin, where the heat of the burning iron had been a more effective way of making him scream. It had done exactly what they had intended it to do. Nonetheless he was trying to forget. He knew that the nightmares would never stop, but recreating some form of resemblance of his life that had occurred before his capture was the best way to begin.

Opius did not appreciate the chill, almost cold attitude of the people around him. Right now he was fuming, the painstakingly slow actions of the people around him torturing. They moved like elephants, each step as loud and echoing as if they were determined to let the world know where they were. Opius had refused to move with any of them, and instead had slipped into the night, feet silent on the ground. He had slipped easily past the other members, whether they be on his side or against him, not one of them noticed him, his unnatural ability to remain still and quite in any situations one that he cherished. After a first calculating glance he had determined that the kids he was stuck with in this little training exercise were useless and it offended him to the point where he had snapped at five of them, tongue firing of cruel stinging words, picking on their inability to even look like they were capable of doing anything. Eventually, after much hair tearing agony he had separated himself. Knowing fully well that the exercise had been meant for them to stay together.

No one would know. All he was going to do was slip all the way to the other side and come out at the other end, but going over triple the distance they would have to go. It meant extra practice for him, where he could slide into the gloomy streets without a single soul beside him. And by the end he would probably be at the checkpoint first. He knew that every civilian was enemy, and yet he had traversed almost the entire distance along the rooftops. Here he was free, on the rooftops there was no one but him and he could run like the wind, feet moving of their own accord. He owned this area, and everyone knew it, it was his home and no one could beat him when it came to the rooftops. Where the world was a maze of alleys, streets and roads on the floor up here it was scaling roofs, jumping and leaping, hands deftly finding the dangerous edges. Here you could slip and break you bones with one misplaced foot, here with one bad step you could break a tile. Up here it was far more dangerous than on the ground, but I you knew how it worked you were far safer.

He found Saturn in a small clearing, but he hung back. He leaned against the shadows of the alleyway closest to the tall, intimidating boy, from his perch on the roof he could see each street that lead from the small intersection. It took almost five more minutes for the rest of the boys to come into view, feet loud, and movement’s jerky and ragged. Opius rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips; they were horrible, nowhere near as capable as he was. Dropping off of the roof he hung back, the other boy’s a spinning churning mess of desperate, anxious adrenaline. They were all quickly knocked down and Opius stepped in, fists moving as he had been trained, his body flowing with the ease of the practice he had been given. But there was something wrong with each of his movements and he could feel it, some of them were jerky and when he pulled one of his arms to far a rippling pain hit him across his spine. Cursing softly he pulled back, but Saturn was having none of that and before he knew it he was being thrown to the floor, his back slapping the cold concrete, another spike of pain hitting him as the countless wounds, scars and cuts in his back were hit.

Grunting he stood up. Scowling he cross his arms over his chest. Saturn spoke, his tone almost chiding in the way he scowled at them impatiently. That was very offensive to his skills. He had been ready, prepared and waiting, but he knew he could not say a thing for fear of the consequences. Biting his lip he met Saturn’s blank stare with a cold glare. One day he’d punch him.

Saturn climbed up a drainpipe, long limbs giving him an easy ability to heave himself onto the roof. Opius didn’t hesitate, the idea of slipping into the comforting protection of the roofs pleasing enough for him to dash forwards. Leaping high he reach upwards, hands grasping onto the drainpipe. With the ease of so many years of practice he tore his body up and over, legs flipping up and over his head, landing lightly on the roof. He waited, once more rolling his eyes at the useful bunch of kids that followed him upwards. Some of them struggled with the easy task of getting onto a roof it was really sad to watch. He turned around, and the sight that met him was not a pleasant one. Mouth dropping open slightly he looked behind him, Saturn had seen them as well. Without hesitating Opius moved closer to Saturn, he could see the look on the boy’s face and he knew instinctively that the Dracs down on the street were not there for practice. They were the real deal, and yet he still felt compelled to have the question on his mind answered. ”Please tell me those are some of your little helpers and not the real deal.”

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
B-B-B-Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark
Can't be sure when they've hit their mark, mark
And besides in the mean, mean time

There was something oddly comforting in the slight laugh that slipped past Saturn’s stern lips. Opius tore his gaze away from the older boy, granted he was only what a year older than him? And yet he was in charge of this entire little training session, where Opius Poe Holmes was stuck participating in it. It was hurtful to his pride and he had fought viciously against jumping in with the kiddies. Party Poison had been adamant, though, refusing to budge even an inch. In the end he had threatened Opius, telling him in a cold, clear voice that brooked no argument, that if he did not participate, and that if he did not wonder around in the streets with the recruits then he would not be going on a mission again. Ever, period. That had been enough to rock Opius into movement, he’d nodded, his eyes still burning with anger, but he had backed off, unwilling to risk the idea that he’d be unable to wonder into danger to help the people that had become his family. After a few stretches and warm up acts before heading off he’d almost fallen into a sullen agreement that he needed it. His back ached and stung whenever he moved. The freshly healed wounds stretched under minimal pressure, they were still tender to touch and part of him feared that he might tear them open once more. Maybe he needed something easy for once, maybe he needed to take his time and not rush ahead and into the clutches of another torture session.

At first he had gone along with it all, moving into the meeting room, pretending to even care about the orders the instructors gave them. But after a few minutes he’d given up. He hated being treated like he wasn’t as skilled as the rest. He was, and part of him believed he was better than some of them.

It was also an odd thing to hear Saturn laugh, especially seeing as the sound was so innocent and foreign in the world they lived in. The last time Opius had heard a laugh was when someone had been breaking his finger. Almost without thought he clenched his hand, fingers wrapping protectively around the three fingers on his left hand that would forever remain stunted, bent at the oddest of angles. What was more, the laugh, had come from one of the toughest, strongest, sternest boy’s Opius had ever met, a person, might he add, that rarely seemed capable of cracking a smile, let alone a laugh. It was an intriguing sound nonetheless and an odd warm sensation crept along Opius' back, spreading through his body as the last traces of the humour slipped from the air and vanished as though it had never existed. A small smile split his own face, however, and it remained there despite the joy fading from the air. Opius’ eyes slowly swivelled back to land on Saturn. Part of him felt privileged to have been able to coax even that small laugh from him. But it was foolishness that kept his lips twisted in a smirk, because wasn’t that just foolish? Wasn’t it? To think that there should be pride hidden within making others feel joy as minimal as it was. As wasted as it was.

It took no longer then several heartbeats for Saturn to turn once more, an arm waving impatiently at him. Opius new the goal of this exercise, stealth and team work. He’d screwed up the second one already. He didn’t believe in teams, he didn’t believe in placing trust onto another person. His life had been based on him and him alone. He had been thrusted into a world where everything he did to survive was based on his own capabilities. Screw everyone else. Just like the world had screwed him. It was why when he got into trouble he was alone. It was why when he was captured, tortured, beaten and bashed he had no one to blame but himself. He had no one else there in the situation; he had no one to care about, to worry about. There was no guilt for making another feel the agony he had felt, instead there was the knowledge that he had but himself to get his ass out of any situation. It was lonely, but it was worth it, knowing that no one was going to get hurt because of his silly mistakes. Opius was sure he would never have forgiven himself if he had of gotten another person tortured when he was capture not two weeks ago. Yet Saturn, party poison and all of them seemed to think that leaning against another soldier was how it worked. Apparently you had to trust the people around you to succeed.

They were wrong. They were so incredibly wrong. Opius hated the idea with a passion. He hated it, the idea that he might one day have to trust another person with his own life was absurd, he struggled to trust himself with his life. He threw it away like it didn’t matter and when it all suddenly seemed to mean more he wished he hadn’t. And yet he’d get right back up and do it again, a lesson he wasn’t willing to learn. Just like that he was unwilling to throw another person into his world, where he made reckless decisions, where everything he did usually meant pain and suffering and loss. He couldn’t do that to another person. He couldn’t bring himself to look anyone in the eyes and say he needed their help, which he wanted them to stand beside him and fight with him. What was the point in telling them to fight and die by your side? Opius saw no point in an exercise that told others to fall into the falseness that trusting other people will save your life. Opius had grown up learning that that never happened; the only person that could save your life was you.

Who saved you when you were in that jail cell screaming to be killed? It wasn’t you. You’d lost the plot, idiot. You lost it and Saturn was the one that got you out of there. You trusted him to carry you, you trusted him to see you cry and you begged him to kill you when you first saw him.

Opius blinked. His eyes flashed briefly and he squeezed them shut tightly. Taking one deep breath after another he clenched his hands. Maybe there were times when he did need help… No. No. No. Saturn had had no right to help him then. None of them had, hell he still couldn’t fathom why they had gone into that building for him. He was positive Party Poison would never have let it happen. Who knows how many they lost just to save his ass. It had been everything he hated. His rescue had been everything in life he had never wanted to happen. It was why he did it by himself; it was why he tried to shove everyone away. It meant no one could get hurt for his mistakes, and yet even when he pushed as hard as he could he couldn’t stop it. Standing up he looked away from Saturn, this was turning into too much of a mission where he could think about shit he didn’t want to deal with. Underneath his shirt he could feel the scars that criss-crossed his back. He could feel the way the iron had pressed into his sides, or the way he had choked on water as they had tried to drown him. There were a million different points of agony, but none of them hurt more than when he stopped and thought about the effects of what he had done. It was the thing he loathed the most, it made him hate himself.

Saturn took off running across the roofs. Opius was taken by surprise at the sudden movement, but quickly moved off after him. Banishing all thoughts from his mind he, instead, focused on following the long, lanky limbed boy across the roof. His feet moved with the ease of practice, landing correctly with each step. When they leapt over gaps he didn’t even hesitate, instead he found himself embracing that tiny bit of open air. Opius looked down at the streets the dracs as obvious as day to him, turning his head to Saturn he called out his name. Saturn halted; swivelling on his feet, moving faster than Opius believed he could. His bright eyes were met with a pair of angry, burning brown eyes. They sliced into him and Opius flinched away, suddenly uncertain about what he had done. “Opius, would you just shut your fucking mou-“

The shot pierced the air. Opius watched, astonishment plastered onto his face. He watched, eyes widening with every passing second as he gazed at Saturn. Saturn’s eyes widened in surprise, a look so unfamiliar that it was almost comical, had it not faded within seconds before being replaced by a look that Opius knew all too well. Pain. Opius Holmes jerked into motion, his training kicking in, he leapt forwards, hands, bent, broken fingers, reaching out towards Saturn to grab something, to stop him-

“Saturn!”

He screamed. He couldn’t help it, his fingers fumbled over the material, desperately grasping for something, but the boy slipped through his fingers, and Opius watched as he tumbled backwards, falling into the open space. Opius watched, his body rooted to the spot, eyes peering downwards, as Saturn fell to the cold, hard pavement below with a dull thud. It was then that he body seemed to wake up, the screams of people around him blended into the chaos, recruits ran left and right. Opius ignored them all, he leapt off of the edge, his legs slipped from underneath him as he landed on the ground. A small amount of pain spiked through his left leg, but he ignored it, stumbling over to Saturn’s body. ”Saturn? Saturn, wake up you idiot. You bumbling buffoon! Come on man!” He snapped, a sudden anger burying itself in his voice. He kneeled beside his fallen comrade, his eyes raking over his body, a red patch spreading across his chest. “Shit man. You got shot.” He mumbled the anger fading into something close to despair. He sat back, lip trembling. His hands shook violently and his breathing seemed to tear out from his lungs in ragged gasps.

”Ripred, Opius get your shit together.” He scowled. Opius looked down; he paused, closing his eyes. Taking two deep breaths he forced them back open. Shrugging off his jacket his pushed it against Saturn’s wound. Stop the blood flow. Worry about the bullet later. He pushed harder, putting pressure on the wound, forcing the bleeding to stop. “Come on, Saturn, I’ve taken worse than this, come on, please don’t be dead. You are a jerk, yeah, a real big jerk, and a bit of a dick. You are also really rude, annoying and blunt. But you are a cool guy, so I swear to Ripred if you don’t wake up right now I will lead every single drac in this godforsaken district to you and let them have you. Okay? You hear me?” He pressed down harder, it took no time at all for the blood to reach his fingers, the sticky, hot substance trailed over the top of his hand and he stared down at it, eyes wishing they weren’t seeing what was in front of him. The blood kept flowing and before long Opius was tugging his shirt off, he left the jacket where it was, before tugging the shirt around and tying it off. Screams still rung in his ears, his own pitiful cries still filled his mind and it played over and over again. He watched again and again as Saturn fell, the look over utter surprise, the panic that took control and the pain that sprung up in his own chest. It wasn’t until he was sure the bleeding was slowing that he looked away. There was only silence around him; every now and then a muffled shout would slam into the peace. He was utterly alone with the bleeding, dying boy.

He looked down at him, a blood-stained hand fumbling over Saturn’s neck, seeking out the familiar feeling of the thrum and the beat of a pumping heart. What he found was enough to make him cry out in despair. He found nothing. Breathing heavily over his rising panic he pressed his fingers against Saturn’s neck once more, wishing with every part of him that he would feel something.

As much as he hated him, as much as he thought Saturn was the world’s biggest douche he needed him.

”I need you man. Just wake up.” He whispered.

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
B-B-B-Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark
Can't be sure when they've hit their mark, mark
And besides in the mean, mean time

He’d never felt such terror. It was swallowing him whole, gripping him and threatening to tug him under completely. It was going to control him and if Opius did not get a grip on it real soon he was going to end up frozen in place and useless. The sounds of gunshots filled the air around him. The recruits had scattered in every direction, none of them had jumped down after Opius, another instructor had come by in time, and forced them to move, and when he had tried to tell Opius to move he had almost been shot. That had jolted the guy into action and within moments he had disappeared, gun firing. For the briefest of moments there was silence. And in that silence all Opius Holmes could feel was gut wrenching panic. Pulling himself together for a few shirt seconds he growls, punching the ground beside him, forcing his body to concentrate. The pain that jolted through his arm was enough for him to push the panic away and he fought it down the entire way, before shoving it as far as he could from his mind and body. It was oh so very familiar, this kind of terror. He had felt it a few times before, each and every time having been horrid. Each time having been when he had been captured and tortured.

It was different for each time; sometimes the panic and terror would sink in as they grabbed him, because on instinct he knew what was going to happen to him. That feeling of unknowing was enough to make anyone go mad, it was crazily scary how fearful you could become when you were simply left to think about all the bad a person could do to you. A person tended to think of more horrid and pain riddled scenarios then any interrogator. Over the times he had been captured Opius had learned how to close off his brain, how to pretend not to think about it. Now all the fear that came was simply the fear of being forgotten. It was the one that set in when you truly believed that no one was ever going to save you and that you were going to die. It hurt the most when you didn’t want to die; it lessened when you gave up and had nothing left to fight for. But it grew when you wanted to die and no one would grant you that wish and instead you were forced to live when you no longer wanted to go on. Most times it settles in two three days into his imprisonment as his brain began to play tricks on him and let him know that he wasn’t getting out of it.

That no one was coming to rescue him.

Those were the worst times. Reaching downwards Opius wants more presses his hands to Saturn’s chest, putting as much pressure as he dared against the bullet wound. The pleading had paced itself out, but it still hadn’t stopped. Any minute now he was going to have to try and pick Saturn up and walk them out of there. Opius was strong by all means, and Saturn wasn’t the biggest person ever, but this guy had a lot of muscle and well Opius had not been built to carry weight. His strength and skills came to being able to move lightly, being up to travel fast, he wasn’t big and bulky and the prospect of carrying a bleeding out Saturn was almost as frightening as leaving him here. He wasn’t even sure if he could pick the guy up. But if it came to it he would try his best. And then suddenly Saturn is gasping, eyes flickering open. The pain within them is enough to make Opius flinch, but he doesn’t, instead he leans forwards, his other hand grasping Saturn’s shirt.

”You’re alive! Goddammit man, you scared me!” He mumbled, hands tightening on Saturn’s shirt, as though it was the only thing keeping Saturn alive. There are tears in his eyes, and that was all Opius needed to know, to know that the pain Saturn was in was unbearable. Opius could sympathise with him, he had been in far worse situations, but he knew how much that kind of pain would hurt, he knew what it felt like. "Are they alright, the little ones, are they okay?" Opius can’t help but grin, ever the hero, Saturn asking about the kiddies before even thinking about himself. Opius shrugs looking around as though to remind himself that all the kids had scattered after being ordered to head back to the headquarters. He was the only one remaining. “The other kiddies are back at Headquarters – or at least that was where they were told to go.” Looking down and away from Saturn for the briefest of moments, Opius’ eyes widen in surprise as he realises his hands were shaking, clamping them tightly together, his lips tighten, as he forces them to be still. "Where's my gun, am I captured, are we about to be captured?" He asks and Opius shakes his head in response, although he knew that at any time someone could come around and end them.

"Run, I'm done for, run."

Then the order is flying from Saturn’s lips. Perfect timing to, because suddenly Opius can hear footsteps coming from up ahead, and he had been around people like Saturn for long enough to know that those heavy footfalls were none of their own. They had been trained too never move like that. With a twisting feeling in his gut he resisted the urge to shrink back. He fought back the fear in his heart to turn and just run, because Opius did not want to be captured again. He did not want to be tortured again. But he couldn’t leave. So without hesitating Opius reached forwards and grips the gun Saturn had pulled out. He yanks it from the other boy’s hands, and stand up. His eyes hardened and with a darkening expression he stepped forwards and quickly wrapped an arm around Saturn. With all his strength he pulled him upwards, grunting under the movement. They were pushed up against the wall he moved Saturn until he was leaning against a bin, he then let him go, hoping that Saturn would have enough strength to just hold himself up for a few minutes. That was, if Opius didn’t get himself killed. He tried his best to ignore the awful sounds Saturn was making. He turned to the older boy and said,

”No one gets left behind, remember?”

Drawing the gun upwards he pointed it down the street. ”From the sound of them I’d say there is three guys. I’ll get rid of them and then together we are getting you back to headquarters. Got it?”

The first guy came into view, a dark figure in the night and without hesitating Opius fired.

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
B-B-B-Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark
Can't be sure when they've hit their mark, mark
And besides in the mean, mean time