When the birds stopped chirping

45. Through Hell And Back; A Fallen Angel's Rhapsody

A/N: Just in case, same warning as in previous chapter. Also, prepare yourselves for this emotional rollercoaster!!

"Fall back! They're gonna see you!"

Turning around to face the assailant, I told myself that this grasp, gentle but firm, this voice, froggy, belonged to none other than Fallen Wings. Indeed, Fallen Wings in rags appeared in front of me.

Before I raised any objections, he put a finger over his mouth, and commanded Liam, Skye and I to follow him, "Over there, quick!", wary of staying too long in plain sight. Swiftly, shifty, the man hurried down a dark path straying from the avenue we were following just before. As soon as we had dipped in the obscurity, rambunctious bootsteps, rattling weapons, echoed in the distance.

Little had we known we could have been spotted by Black Police militiamen on patrol; I gulped. Furthermore, I figured it would have put Fallen Wing's secret in the line.

"Head low! Don't make a noise and don't move an inch till' they're gone!" he whispered as in a low voice as possible so only we could hear him.

He was so secretive about himself, he seemed like a nice guy, though. It led me to wonder how much suffering he must have gone through to end up in such a pitiable condition. To my unasked question, he replied mysteriously, "These? They're... battle wounds."

Without further indulging my curiosity, I looked down and away to avoid his clairvoyant eyes. Those eyes, blue as the sky on a sunny day, clouded with grey specks, were the only unscathed part of himself, piercing through your inner most doubts and fears, which scared me a little I must say.

On the defensive, I battled in retreat, apologetic, "S... Sorry if I'm being indiscreet!"

He pulled his coat over me, which caught me off guard, "Careful, not to attract their attention!" he groaned. The sight of his skeletal torso, deeply scarred, as well as the number 601 branded on the side of his neck, gave me a disturbing, vivid, impression of déjà-vu.

"Care to explain what's going on out there?" Liam inquired in the same husky tone.

"Right. You weren't filled in about latest events, I presume," Fallen Wings observed. "I'd let you in on the conflict's recent goings-on, however," - he looked behind his shoulder, tensed – "it's getting late and I don't wanna feed you three to the Party's vultures. At the moment, they've got eyes and ears everywhere."

Listening to him speak on and on, I realised that, despite him wearing a shaggy Black Police uniform, we might be on the same page. He still made me wary though. Sensing my apprehension, which must be palpable, he added, "So, I'll take you somewhere safe for tonight.", preceding us on the way to a certain location, proper to say an ominous-looking underground station entrance topped by a construction sign.

A place, along a chain of stairs dimmed in obscurity that only a Shadow must know, for Shadows used to make of the underground their unofficial headquarters. Not only them, given that since a year ago, the underground had become the realm of lost souls and vengeful spirits wishing to get away from the Party's Eye, especially Southern Line's construction site, beneath Lost Island itself, off-limits to the Party's might.

For being knowledgeable about this certain place, not only a Shadow, Fallen Wings ought to have been a key part of the Rebellion at some point, though I dared not to ask him questions. Lost-and-found pride in his demeanour forbade me from bringing up the subject of his circumstances, before he became a semi-living creature of sorts with only weapon, instead of a gun or sword, his untouched humanity.

How cruel, be the Party that deprived many birds of their right to fly, Fallen Wings included, whose body wore the stigma of unimaginable suffering. Why, taking a look back at his still form losing shape, carried away by Liam's grasp on my arm, a feeling of profound helplessness, which ploughed my determination, submerged me, as if I had been in this exact situation once before?