AT LONG LAST! Ok, so we lied, it is not in fact an ending, we decided instead to give you a little something to hold you over, now that we have left you stranded for…4 months? SORRY! Here is a chappie specially for you, and we will try hard as we can to get the endings up soon.

~Nat

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In the flickering light of a broken overhead lamp, a tall man stood, surveying the gory scene before him with a look of disgust on his shadowed face. Standing at about 6'1, with thick muscles visible even through the thick light colored coat draped loosely about his broad frame, the man made an intimidating figure. Reaching a hefty hand up, he brushed back his hood, revealing a stern face, pale in the flickering light. Kind blue eyes sat high on the face, accentuated by pronounced cheekbones, and a light layer of stubble. His crooked nose was crinkled in distaste as his eyes swept the scene in front of him, thin lips slightly parted as he strove to avoid breathing in the sharp metallic odor filling the room.

Releasing an exasperated sigh, the big man stepped forward, covering the distance between him and the three prone forms in front of him in two steps. Leaning down with a slight groan, a contemptuous smirk lifting the corners of his chapped lips, he studied the man lying in a heap in front of him.

The lanky young man was sprawled in an awkward position, one of his legs bent beneath his collapsed form. Both arms were flung out, as though he was cheering. Near one outstretched arm, just a few inches away from the partially opened hand, was a bloodied hammer. The man's face was covered in blood, most of which seemed to stem from the gaping hole that used to contain an eye. The cheekbone beneath the tattered remains was shattered, bits of bone poked from the skin, where they had forced their way out. Spattered on the front of his baggy navy blue shirt was more dark blood, along with flakes of bone and dirt. The spreading pool of blood seeping from the first man led to another, younger man, laying spread eagled on the cool cement a short distance away.

White hair, stained pink by the seeping red, was predominant in the filtering light, accentuated by black roots and pale skin. Moving over to this unconscious form, the big man examined the body lying at his feet. Baggy pants hung from slim hips, dripping silver chains, glinting dully in the pale light. At the end of long legs were dirty bare feet, one of which trailed a long scar from big toe to mid-arch. The upper body was bare, and sweat stood out on thin toned muscle, fading the flecks of blood staining the skin from a vibrant red to a faded magenta. His face was frozen in a mask of some twisted pained fury, young features stuck at a point between confusion, anger, and pain. His bright eyes were still partially opened, as was his mouth, as though even through his lack of consciousness he was trying to relay a message.

Just past the unconscious young man was the girl. She was still conscious, though she seemed entirely unaware of her surroundings. She was slumped over, forehead pressed against the cold ground, a mangled hand reaching toward the unconscious white haired one. She had the same color of hair as his little sister. Their eyes were similar too… only… Cary's eyes were fading. Even if he didn't want to admit it, the cancer eating away at her insides was winning, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Without this money, she wouldn't get treatment. Without treatment…..

The girl. Her other hand was clutching something. It was dirty, and tangled. A long piece of cloth, impossible to tell what color it had been before it had been destroyed. Her thumb, seemingly involuntarily, was rubbing slow circles on the ribbon, rubbing the dirt away in a slow constant motion. Her hair, no longer in any kind of order, tumbled down in waves, draped across her bare shoulders. In some places it knotted and stuck to patches of blood on her skin.

Instinctively, he had known what Sega had done. He had sat for several long minutes, glaring at the man at his feet, not able to bring himself to even see if Sega was still breathing. He didn't care. This man, this job, this whole arrangement was the biggest pile of shit he had ever come across. And he refused to be a part of it. But…

He wanted to release the girl and boy, but he had made a promise, and if he wasn't going to help, at the very least he couldn't hinder it. But none-the-less he felt uncomfortable about leaving them here... chained, with Sega; who, he realized as he deliberated, was beginning to wake. The man stirred slightly, twisting his uncomfortably bent leg out from under him with a quiet groan that sounded more like a sigh than anything. Shifting his arms inch by inch, he slowly brought one down to his side, and the other to his head. Exploring the cuts, bruises and bumps littering his scalp, Sega slowly sat up, his hips and back cracking as he reached a vertical position. The curious hand on his head slithered down, sliding through the blood and dirt until it came to rest, gently, upon the shattered remains of his eye socket. With a devastated cry, he plunged his fingers into the hole, feeling desperately for any sign of his missing eye. He seemed convinced that if he looked urgently enough, the organ would re-grow, good as new. As his frantic fingers scrambled through the wound, more blood began to bubble from the raw broken flesh. Fragments of shattered bone dribbled down his face, sliding upon rivulets of his blood. As his groping fingers fumbled too deep, a thick white mucus spilled from the wound. Slithering slowly down his face, it gathered dirt and blood as its decent continued, finally gathering into a heap at the bottom of his chin before separating itself and spattering to the ground. Sega sobbed as his fingers felt nothing but a texture similar to that a skinned grape. His broken cry echoed through the open room, creating a cacophony of sound as it reverberated off of the walls.

The man took a step away from his distraught partner, melting into the shadows as he considered his options. In the open space before him, Sega crawled on his hands and knees, groping despairingly through the sea of blood coating the ground. He seemed to be alright. He would be blind in one eye….. or… he would lack one. But he would live. He would finish the job, he would get his precious money, and he could go home, get a beer, buy a whore, and have his "wholesome" fun. Shii would return home penniless, but with his humanity intact.

He looked back at the girl. She really did remind him of Cary: Her bright bubbly personality, even in the worst of circumstances. She was always smiling. Her eyes always betrayed her emotions, and the only person that she didn't think to help was herself. Shii sighed. He was going to give everything up for this girl. But he just couldn't do it, not even for Cary. She wouldn't want it, and he couldn't bear it.

Shii tilted his head back, glazed eyes staring through the ceiling to something beyond. He took a deep breath and headed to the door. As he opened it, rusty hinges screamed in protest, threatening to release their load. As he exited, he shot one last look at the girl. In reality, she and Cary had more in common than either of them knew.

By the end of the month, they would both be dead.

The door closed behind him, releasing a loud screech before slamming shut with a clear sense of finality.

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