Sol sprawled across one of their makeshift log benches, his face pale as moonlight as he pressed a hand against the wound in his chest. Blood seeped between his fingers despite Red's temporary energy patch. His silver-white hair, usually immaculate, stuck to his forehead in sweaty clumps.
Angelo caught Neiva's worried glance as they both watched Sol struggle. He nodded slightly, acknowledging her concern before approaching their injured companion.
Crouching beside Sol, Angelo gently moved the hand covering the wound. His eyes narrowed as he examined the damage, the firelight revealing torn flesh with ragged edges where the metal had penetrated.
"This needs stitches," Angelo said grimly, keeping his voice steady despite the severity. "The bleeding's slowed, but it could start again if you move wrong."
Sol's mouth twitched into a pained smirk. "Damn... and here I forgot to pack my embroidery kit. Rookie mistake."
"Still cracking jokes?" Angelo raised an eyebrow, his tone remaining serious despite Sol's attempt at humor. "Maybe you're not as close to death's door as you look."
Neiva hurried over, her red hair falling across her face as she knelt beside them. "This isn't funny, Angelo! We need to be serious." Her voice trembled slightly as she looked at Sol's wound. "What are we going to do? Thunderclap Port is still days away, and he needs real medical attention!"
Sol winced as a fresh wave of pain hit him. "What I wouldn't give for some Regenwater right now," he managed through clenched teeth. "Those little blue vials of miracle juice would be pretty handy."
Inside Angelo's mind, Blue's scholarly voice perked up with interest. "Actually, I find it quite fascinating that Regenwater was discovered by an Evolved Auron. The scientific breakthrough has quite a remarkable history."
"Amazing." Angelo's mental tone was flatter than a pancake.
"Indeed!" Blue continued, either missing or ignoring Angelo's sarcasm. "It was an Evolved water Auron whose unique ability allowed him to produce water that accelerated cells regeneration. After providing samples to researchers, they successfully synthesized the compound and developed mass production techniques, revolutionizing emergency medicine worldwide. The implications for public health have been truly extraordinary."
"Heh, somebody hit his nerd button again," Red's voice snickered through their shared consciousness. "Better grab a snack, Angie, sounds like he's just getting started."
"I'm with Red on this one," Angelo thought back. "How exactly is this history lesson helping us with the bleeding guy right in front of us?"
Blue's mental voice carried a hint of indignation. "If you would allow me to reach my conclusion, I'm suggesting that Auron abilities can contribute to medical solutions in unexpected ways. Similar to how Red temporarily plugged the wound with his energy, you could utilize permanent forged energy to create micro-sutures that would effectively close the injury."
"That's... actually not a bad idea," Angelo admitted reluctantly. "Should've just led with that instead of the history lecture."
"You demonstrate absolutely no appreciation for the beauty of scientific discovery," Blue replied with scholarly disappointment.
"Can't hear you, don't care," Angelo muttered out loud, forgetting himself for a moment.
Neiva's head snapped up, her forehead creasing with confusion. "What's wrong? Are you three having another private conversation?"
"Doesn't matter," Angelo said, shaking his head before turning toward where Red lounged against a tree. "Red, you're up. You're doing the stitching."
Red's eyes lit up like a kid being handed the keys to a candy store. "Hell yeah!" he exclaimed, bouncing to his feet as crimson energy erupted around him. He rubbed his hands together eagerly, energy gathering between his palms and forming a small glowing sphere. "Finally something fun to do!"
Sol eyed the growing ball of energy with mounting suspicion. "Do what, exactly?" He tried to sit up straighter, immediately regretting it as pain lanced through his chest.
"Don't worry about it," Angelo said flatly, his expression giving nothing away.
"Somehow that doesn't make me—" Sol hissed as another spike of pain cut him off. "Worry less," he finished, slumping back against the log.
"I said don't worry about it," Angelo repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned toward their youngest companion. "Neiva, you still have that first aid kit, right? We need bandages."
Her eyes widened as she understood. "Oh! Right!" She scrambled toward her partially spilled bag, digging through the contents with frantic energy.
"Ready when you are!" Red called, practically vibrating with excitement as the crimson sphere hovered above his palm, glowing like a miniature sun.
Angelo nodded, turning back to Sol. "Hold still," he instructed, his voice dropping to a gentler tone than usual. "This might hurt a bit."
"A bit," Sol echoed with a humorless laugh. "Right." He gripped the log beneath him with white-knuckled determination, bracing himself for whatever was coming.
Red lifted both arms with theatrical flair. A thin thread of energy emerged from the crimson sphere, looking like glowing yarn unspooling from a ball. With unexpected precision, he directed the thread toward Sol's wound.
Sol's entire body tensed as the energy pierced the edge of the injury, beginning to weave through the torn flesh. His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, but he didn't make a sound.
"Look what I found, guys!" Neiva called triumphantly, holding up supplies as she hurried back. Her excited voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her. "Oh..." Her face twisted in sympathy as she watched Red's improvised surgery.
"What... did... you..." Sol managed between short, sharp breaths, clearly trying to distract himself. "Find?"
Neiva blinked, momentarily confused before remembering the items in her hands. "Right! Bandages and—" she held up a clear bottle, genuine pride in her discovery "—medical alcohol too!"
"Perfect timing," Angelo nodded approvingly. "We'll clean the wound before closing it completely." He glanced at Red, who was humming cheerfully as he continued his stitching. "Red, get ready to remove the plug when I say."
Red's wild grin stretched wider. "Prepare for the fountain of youth! Well, more like a fountain of blood— anyways," He wiggled his fingers in anticipation.
Sol closed his eyes briefly. "Fantastic bedside manner," he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite the pain.
"Hand it over," Angelo gestured to Neiva, who passed him the bottle. He uncapped it with practiced efficiency. "Ready? Now, Red."
Red made a sharp, dramatic gesture with his free hand. The energy plug that had been keeping Sol's blood inside suddenly dissolved into crimson smoke. Fresh blood immediately began oozing from the wound.
Without hesitation, Angelo poured alcohol directly into the open injury. The clear liquid mixed with red as it flowed over Sol's skin.
"Mother—" Sol's entire body went rigid, the curse dying in his throat as he sucked in a harsh breath. "Fucking hell," he gasped, his face contorting. "That's... fuck..."
Neiva winced with each pained expression that crossed Sol's face, unconsciously mimicking his suffering. Angelo remained completely stoic as he methodically cleaned the wound, while Red's cheerful grin never faltered.
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"Okay, close him up," Angelo finally instructed, setting the half-empty bottle aside.
With a theatrical flick of his wrist, Red tightened the energy stitches, sealing the wound closed. The crimson threads glowed faintly against Sol's skin, like strange, otherworldly sutures.
Sol exhaled slowly, his death grip on the log finally relaxing as the worst of the pain subsided. He took several deep breaths before speaking. "Thanks," he said quietly, carefully pulling his jacket closed over the wound. "Actually does feel better."
Angelo nodded once, satisfied with their handiwork. "It'll hold until we reach town. Just don't do anything stupid like getting into another fight."
"Me? Do something stupid?" Sol's trademark confidence crept back into his voice as he managed a weak smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Red flopped back onto the ground, his aura fading as he stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam. "That was fun! Who else needs stabbing? I mean stitching?" He glanced around hopefully, only to be met with three unamused stares.
Night had settled fully over their makeshift camp. The fire popped and hissed, sending tiny sparks floating upward like fireflies trying to rejoin the stars. Angelo sat cross-legged on one of the log benches, his eyes closed as waves of orange light flowed around him like gentle flames. The energy cast dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the furrows of concentration on his brow.
Sol watched him for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Hate to interrupt your zen moment," he said, his casual tone belied by the serious look in his eyes, "but we should probably talk about what just happened."
Angelo didn't open his eyes. "I'm listening," he replied, the orange light continuing to pulse around him. "Just letting Blue recharge while I get some training in. Two birds, one stone."
Sol glanced over at Red, who was sprawled on the ground nearby, looking bored. When their eyes met, Red just shrugged dramatically and mouthed 'Hell if I know.'
"Right," Sol said with a small sigh, running a hand through his silver-white hair.
Neiva scooted closer to the fire, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked between them. "We need to talk about those twins," she said. "The ones who nearly killed us all."
"Yeah," Sol nodded, focusing back on Angelo. "They seemed to know exactly who you were. Old friends of yours?"
Angelo's forehead wrinkled slightly as he considered the question. "Never seen them before in my life," he said after a pause, still not opening his eyes.
"Maybe we should start with what we do know?" Neiva suggested, tucking a strand of bright red hair behind her ear.
Sol rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the firelight catching on the stubble there. "Not much, honestly. We have their names—Nova and Ashly. Other than that..."
Something dark passed over Angelo's face, his mouth turning downward in a sour expression that looked like he'd just bitten into something rotten.
Neiva leaned forward, immediately catching the change. "Did you remember something?"
"Nothing," Angelo said, the word clipped and final.
"Come on," Sol pressed gently, his usual playful tone softening into something more genuine. "Whatever it is, you can tell us. We're your friends."
Angelo's jaw tightened, but he finally relented. "It's that Nova woman," he said, the words coming out bitter as old coffee. "It's like she exists just to mock me."
"What?" Neiva blinked in confusion, exchanging a bewildered look with Sol.
"That came out of nowhere," Sol said, turning to Red for clarification. "Care to translate?"
Red held up his hands in mock surrender, his trademark wild grin firmly in place. "Sorry, pretty boy, but if Angie doesn't wanna spill the beans, not my place to do it for him." Despite his innocent act, it was clear Red knew exactly what Angelo meant.
Angelo didn't elaborate, just returned to his meditation, his face closing off like a door slamming shut. The orange light pulsed a little faster around him, the only sign of his agitation.
Silence fell over their little circle, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Neiva hugged her knees tighter, her thoughts practically visible as they raced across her face. Finally, she broke the quiet.
"Maybe someone sent them after Angelo?" she suggested. "Someone who knows about him?"
Sol tapped his fingers against his knee, considering. "That would make sense..."
"They knew about Red and Blue," Angelo said suddenly, making both Sol and Neiva turn toward him. "That's how I managed to land that hit on Nova. She was expecting Blue to materialize, and we used that expectation against her."
You could almost hear the gears turning in Neiva and Sol's minds as they processed this.
"So," Neiva said slowly, "maybe someone who's familiar with Angelo—or fought him before—sent them after us?"
"Someone with enough of a grudge to hire mercenaries to capture him," Sol added, his detective instincts clearly engaged.
Neiva's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "But who would hate Angelo that much?"
Sol snapped his fingers as something clicked. "What if it's not about Angelo himself?" he said, his eyes brightening with realization. "What if it's about..."
"The Angel of Death," Neiva finished, her voice dropping to just above a whisper.
"Exactly." Sol turned to Angelo, who had finally opened his eyes. "Anyone come to mind? Someone who might want revenge for a loved one you... dealt with?"
Angelo frowned, considering the question. "No one immediately comes to mind."
"Maybe it's Vincent's girlfriend!" Red jumped in with a cackle that echoed through the quiet camp. "Remember how she wailed on TV about her dead fiancé? I bet she's sworn to avenge him!" He drew out the word dramatically, clutching his chest like an actor in a bad play.
The word 'avenge' seemed to hit Angelo like a physical blow. His eyes widened slightly as a memory surfaced:
"Mark my words, Angel of Death." his voice carried the weight of a solemn vow as he backed away. "I will avenge my brother. You can be sure of that."
Angelo's eyes snapped open fully, blazing with sudden intensity. The movement was so abrupt that Neiva actually jumped in her seat.
"What is it?" Sol asked, immediately alert to the change. "Did you remember something?"
"Yes..." Angelo hesitated, as if saying the name might somehow summon its owner. "Someone does come to mind now. One of the terrorists from the New Light Festival attack."
Sol and Neiva exchanged worried glances.
"I killed his brother—also a terrorist," Angelo continued, his voice flat and factual. "Before he retreated, he swore he'd avenge him." He looked up, meeting their eyes with a gaze that had turned hard as stone. "Dray of the Black Flames."
The name fell into their circle like a heavy stone, rippling the air with its weight.
"You never told me about him," Neiva said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of hurt. Then something else occurred to her. "Nova... Ashly... those are Infernian names..."
"What was his threat level?" Sol asked, his usual lighthearted demeanor completely gone, replaced by deadly seriousness.
Angelo's mouth tightened into a grim line. "It took the combined strength of the three of us plus Joe Blackstorm to injure him." He paused, the orange light pulsing faster around him. "Four Evolved Aurons, if you count Red and Blue separately."
"Hey! I take offense to that!" Red shot to his feet, indignation written across his face. "And also, he wasn't that tough! And don't forget we weren't at full strength back then!"
"And he was?" Angelo countered, his tone silencing Red instantly. Angelo turned back to Sol, continuing as if there had been no interruption. "Who's to say he wasn't more injured than we were? For all we know, he might be far stronger now than when we fought him."
"Is he evolved?" Sol asked, his hands resting on his knees, his posture tense.
Angelo nodded once. "He's a fire Auron. His evolved ability creates this sticky fire that's nearly impossible to put out. He even wears a cape made of the stuff." His eyes grew distant as he recalled details. "Once it sticks to something, it spreads and attaches to anything nearby. Made fighting him a complete nightmare."
Neiva hugged her knees tighter, the firelight catching her worried expression. "But why would Dray send those twins instead of coming himself?" she asked, frustration edging into her voice. "Why not fight alongside them if he wants revenge so badly?"
Sol leaned back, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his freshly-stitched wound. "Dray's still just our best guess right now," he said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his knee. "But if it is him, I'd bet he's keeping some cards up his sleeve. Smart players don't show their whole hand at once."
Angelo's eyes narrowed as he considered this. "You think it might not be him after all?"
"We can't be certain," Sol replied, his detective instincts clearly engaged. "The biggest question is how they found us in the first place. That's the piece that doesn't fit."
"That's... actually a really good point," Neiva said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "How did they find us out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"It would mean whoever sent them has some kind of tracking ability," Sol explained, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. "And I doubt sticky fire works as a people-finder."
Angelo's orange aura flickered slightly as he processed this. "So where does that leave us?"
"Two possibilities," Sol said, holding up two fingers. "Either it is Dray, but he's working with someone who can track us... or it's someone else entirely." He lowered his hand with a grim smile. "Either way, we need to watch our backs from now on. Someone just cranked up the difficulty level on our little adventure."
Neiva's laugh held no humor. "I usually play games on hard mode, sometimes even nightmare difficulty," she said, poking at the fire with a stick. "But when it comes to real life? I think I'd prefer the easy setting."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of their new reality.
Miles away, beneath a sky streaked with moonlit clouds, Ashly trudged up a rocky path. Nova's unconscious form hung limp over her shoulder, blood dripping steadily from her sister's stomach wound to stain the ground below. Ashly's face was set in stone, her eyes fixed on the cave entrance ahead.
As she stepped into the shadowy opening, a figure emerged from the darkness within. Ashly didn't wait for questions.
"It's Nova," she said, her voice as flat and cold as the cave floor. "She needs medical help."
The man before her shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable in the gloom. "I don't see Angelo with you."
Ashly turned her head away, unable to meet his gaze. "They outsmarted us," she admitted, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
"Outsmarted?" The man's voice dripped with mockery. "Even though you had surprise and information on your side?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You must be exceptionally stupid."
"Why you—!" Ashly's orange aura flared dangerously around her clenched fists. "They somehow knew we were coming, okay?!"
The man let out a long-suffering sigh, waving her away like an annoying insect. "Go heal your sister," he said dismissively. "Leave me to think about our next move."
As Ashly disappeared deeper into the cave with her injured twin, the man lingered, tapping his foot, processing. Finally he shook his head before retreating as well.