Welcome to Gaia! ::

Groaning audibly, Brimstone grabbed his small red jacket, tossing it over his scrawny form as the taller Shattered dragged him off. Sure, he knew it might be unwise to follow Ilistala anywhere, but the farther they walked out of the door, the farther they would be from the accursed lipstick. It really wasn't much of a decision at all. After a few moments, Brimstone shrugged off Ilistala's grip, marching ahead of her to open the door.

"So, where are we going?" he questioned curiously, though he fought to maintain his air of insubordination. "Nowhere too far," he added as an afterthought. Mature for his age though he was, part of Brimstone was still terrified at going anywhere out of his comfort zone, especially with a hothead for a babysitter.

With a labored sigh, Brimstone dragged his feet behind Ilistala as she flew before him, deciding it was better to just go annoyingly slow than to try to beat her in a race. Still, at the word 'carnival', the adolescent boy's ears perked suddenly. "Carnival?" he said with a youthful tinge of excitement. He might be brooding and mean for his age, but no child can deny the sheer coolness of a carnival. Besides, Brim liked to tease the carnies.

Speeding up, the nuclear Shattered caught up with Ilistala, keeping pace with her as the odd pair crossed the streets and sand that separated the fire Shattered's home on Gambino Isle and the boardwalk where the carnival was being held. He stayed close by Stala's side, though he tried to hide it, as unfamiliar faces sprang up on all sides, stuffing their faces with cotton candy and pretzels.

This boardwalk was familiar to him. Once, he had come here with Akina, and a strange fairy boy had tried to talk to him. The memory was far off and fuzzy from years ago when Brimstone was still a toddler, but it grew fresh as the same smells and sounds filled him now, though he had to admit that it was all far more fast-paced and exciting at night. Turning to his companion, he flipped a chunk of blue hair from his eyes and murmured, "Now what? We don't have any money."

Brimstone tensed against Ilistala's touch, trying to pull away from her as best as he could manage half-heartedly. He grumbled as she called him her "friend" under his breath, pondering quietly the fact that the tall girl next to him might actually be the closest thing to a friend that he had. "Sure," Brimstone coughed at her vanity, following her gaze to the odd group of people already on the Boardwalk. Granted, Brimstone himself didn't exactly look 'normal'. Who was he to think anything against them?

Lost in his own thoughts, Brim hardly noticed Stala leave his side, let alone start to climb up the dirty chain link fence. "What are you doing?" he hissed in a prepubescent voice, moving swiftly to the base of the fence, glancing up at her. The mischief did make the young boy's heart flutter, but he usually liked to be the one doing all the scheming. Dark finger gripped the fence as he started after Stala, scurrying so fast that he looked a bit ridiculous. Aside from one snag as he swung over the top, Brim managed to complete the task relatively unscathed. Breath whooshed out of him for a second as the Shattered collected himself, teeming with a mixture of fear and excitement at what they had just done.

He did love a good little rebellion every now and then.

The look on Ilistala's face at the voice of the security guard was enough to make any child contemplate soiling his or herself. Brimstone, however, was lucky enough only to feel his face grow hotter as the smoky patterns on his skin seemed to vibrate with sheer terror. This was it. This red-headed idiot was going to get him sent to jail. Then who would carry him when his feet hurt? Or make him any strange food that he desired like his favorite caper and mustard sandwich? Surely not Ilistala. More than ever before, Brim wanted his mommy.

As Stala took off at a run, the younger Shattered froze for a moment, watching the fat security guard wheeze and sputter his way over. Brimstone stumbled backward, falling on his a**, at the sheer size of this man. Time to run! Cursing as a child might, the nuclear Shattered was quickly after Ilistala, weaving where she did and eventually diving under the Boardwalk at the spot where he had seen her fiery hair disappear.

The Boardwalk was vaguely familiar to the child. He remembered--vaguely--being here with Akina and some strange winged boy before. He had fallen, he thought, but the details were few and far between. Regardless, he was back in the dank wetness now, stumbling so quickly that he practically collided with a couple who appeared to be locked at the... oh sweet Lord.

The young boy's mouth dropped open, hanging like a broken hinge from the rest of his face. "W-what," he stammered in confusion, shrinking back behind Ilistala, "are they doing?" It would seem that the young Shattered hadn't exactly been through Sex Ed. yet.

Turning away to shield his virgin eyes, Brimstone refused to make eye contact with Ilistala yet alone run the risk of catching any more couples in the middle of... whatever it was they were doing. Little boy or not, the young Shattered doubted he would ever want to be gross like all the people under this Boardwalk. Girls are gross. Period.

Feeling color rush to his face as Stala continued to lecture him, Brim was glad that his skin was so dark to hide it, not wanting anymore teasing from the girl who seemed to have made it her mission in life to torment him... not that he really minded all the time. In fact, he was just about to tell her just how much she annoyed him when, turning around, he caught the sight of a hand wrenching his companion back into the darkness.

"Stala?" he said weakly, voice etched in fear. She had lost the confidence on her face, and now, more than ever, Brimstone really did feel like a little boy.

The scabbed hand curled tighter across the young girl's throat, drawing her back against the man's chest as his fingers lurked uncomfortably close to her bustline. "Hello, pretty thing," he crooned with a voice cracked and rough like broken glass. "It must be my birthday to get such a present left on my doorstep." He cackled in a dark, sick way that sent flecks of grime and decay flying from his chapped and bloody lips.

Nuclear eyes grew wide as the man continued to drag Stala backwards away from the noise of the crowd, moving carefully as not to attract attention. Should he yell? Call for help? Attack? Before he could think, Brimstone took several steps forward and shouted, "STOP! I-I-I mean... l-l-l-l-leave her a-alone." His voice was weak and troubled, squeaking on the ends.

In the dark, the scabbed man stopped moving. "Morris, you know we don't like company." The kick came so fast that Brimstone didn't even have a chance to recognize that there was a second attacker. The child doubled over in pain, immediately spitting out a mouthful of bloody phlegm from his throat. The man who had kicked him suddenly stepped into view.

He was thin and tall and had two yellowed front teeth that protruded like fangs from his oversized bottom lip. "Yeah," he slurred, laughing and sputtering like his cohort, "four's a crowd, squirt. But maybe if we get bored..." His voice trailed off as his yellowed eyes searched Brimstone for far longer than was comfortable.

Turning his back to the nuclear Shattered, Morris began to walk away, approaching Stala and drawing a dirty nail across the line of her chin. "Say bye-bye to your little friend, darlin'," he drawled loosely, leaning far too close for comfort to her face.

Facedown in the sand, Brimstone shuddered and wheezed, trying to get to his feet. His arms and face and stomach burned like fire, but it wasn't from the kick. It was from the look on Ilistala's face. Something in him had to save. She was his best friend, his only real friend. And these men were going to do something bad to her, to his Ilistala. He was the only one who was allowed to tease her or be mean.

Lifting his head, the child crawled on his knees after them, stretching for every inch of his power that he could. The air around him teemed weakly. In one breath, Brimstone hissed out a scream as he flung whatever he remained at the two men in the form of a dense cloud of smog. "RUN, STALA!" he screamed in his high-pitched voice, praying that she would make it out now that they were out of hearing distance of anyone else on the beach.

As his vision blurred, Brimstone could see Morris approaching him with a thick piece of driftwood, cursing and ranting as he wiped smog from his eyes. The first crack of the stick over his shoulders was followed by a series of equally violent attacks, each hitting a new bone, a new organ. And wheezing out a mouthful of blood, the young boy fought to breathe and be strong, praying Ilistala was alright.

Then it all went black.

The hands of a clock only one being could see began slowly and silently ticking counter-clockwise, to his surprise. He had watched it carefully for the past few days, waiting until it was time; but there, it ticked again. Backwards. How odd.

He did not like surprises. His plan was too perfect to interrupt.

The vision disappeared, as did the harbinger. Though it wasn't his time, he would have to be premature. Such actions would always have consequences later on, he was sure.

---

In the smog and smoke of self-defense, Brimstone lay unconscious. The sweet black bliss he enjoyed refused to last, as a stranger entered his consciousness.

It is unfortunate that we have to meet this way, boy. It was not in my plans.

The voice, unfamiliar and bodiless, was accompanied only by Brimstone's vision returning, to find himself in yet another black void. He could see himself, and was aware of being on tangible ground, but that was all.

He had been placed in the little black box of his own mind.

There was still nothing left to see in the darkness, but the voice continued. Though he was torn by the sudden force of his hand on this matter, his voice held no emotion, for Brim's sake.

Take you back? So you may die along with your friend?

A brightness burst out like a silent explosion, forming itself into a window with which Brim would be able to watch the proceedings unfold. There he could see himself, unconscious on the ground. More importantly, he could see the attackers turn their attentions toward Ilistala, and the flames she was forcing them to suffer through. Though her power was great, it came with it's cost. Initially, that cost was ignorance of the second man, who, now done with Brim, came for her. As powerful as she was, it was clear that she would soon be powerless indeed.

Powerless and alone.

You cannot stop them. She cannot stop them. Why would you want to return to a fate that promises two deaths instead of one?

The voice fell silent as the attacker came for Ilistala. Still bursting with flames, she was untouchable. However, no flame could stop the bullet that sat in the pistol he silently pulled from his belt, and rose up equally as silent, to aim at Ilistala's head.

You are weak. There is nothing you can do to stop this. Though you may hide in your hard emotional shell, I know you. I know you, Brimstone. And I know that you, as you are now, can do nothing to stop her fate.

His thumb pressed down on the safety, and he closed one eye.

As you are, you will remain here with me. And you will watch her die.