Les Oiseaux de Mauvaise Augure

"Brian."

"What?"

"Brian, please fix your tie."

"Mom, I did already." She sighed as he fidgeted in his seat on the couch. She left her place in front of the hall mirror, still fixing her last earring, to stand in front of him.

"What am I going to do with you, sweet pea?" She kneeled down in front of him, re-doing his tight knot with a small smile.

"Mommm," he groaned, fidgeting more. She laughed, patting his shoulders when she was finished.

"We're going to be late for church, Brian."

"Can't I stay home this time? I promise I'll go next week."

"Sweat pea, you have to go every week. It's only for an hour or two. You want to get into Heaven, don't you?" Brian with nodded with lazy eyes and pursed lips. "Can you go get Daddy, please?"

-*-

Brian was a lost soul. Not a lost cause, necessarily, but certainly lost.

His family had always meant a lot to him. And, even though he loved them, he had always longed for the perfect cookie-cutter life. Mother, Father, Dick, Jane, and Spot in a white house with a green lawn and pretty picket fence.

Growing up in Huntington Beach wasn't always easy. Drugs and crime ran rampant in Orange County, and there wasn't much that the Haners could do to shield their son from it all.

Demons are hard to out-run.

Brian soon lost the longing for perfection and filled in that empty spot with Synyster.

Before he was killing, he was drinking. He was stealing. He was avoiding his family at all costs. He was trying to outgrow those silly ideas of perfection and goodness. Outgrow them... outrun them... outlive them. Wait for them all to disappear.

When his parents were murdered when he was 19, he felt guilt. Pure guilt. It was raw and powerful and forced thoughts into his head. He drank more to keep his mind off of the world and the sadness and the pain. And, eventually, the guilt was replaced with resentment. He resented everything he used to be and everyone he used to love.

Brian had lost himself.

Everything that his parents had tried to shield him from... found a way. It burrowed underneath his skin, and filled his head with new ideals and morals and friends who couldn't help him.

The drinking turned to killing. Robbing. And anger. Passionate anger for the world and all of its inhabitants. Sadness because he would never regain his innocence and naivety again. He became lethargic and depressed. Sad.

He hid it all, though. Behind his eyes and his ribs. All of those feelings pushed deep within himself. He denied his name. Hated his name. He became Synyster. Sinister and sad and lonely.

He merely went through the motions, becoming numb to the rest of the world.

And he stopped living.

Because that was easier.

And there was no turning back.

-*-

Synyster threw his cigarette to the ground, stomping the red tip out with his boot. The boy's house was dark, apart from one room towards the front of the house which was lit dimly. He was supervising Zacky and Gerard for their rather simple mission. Get in, get Charity, kill the boy, and leave.

But, it was obvious that Zacky and Gerard didn't get along. So, the fact that Shadows put them both on the same job meant that he either had complete and total confidence in their work, or he wanted one or both of them dead. And, Zacky was so rusty... And, Gerard was so angry... Tonight was going to be either a success or a complete failure.

Synyster checked his watch. They had just went in about ten minutes ago. They should've been out by now.

Synyster's fingers twitched and he almost reached for another cigarette.

Too long. It was taking too long.

-*-

"Wait, so your parents don't care what time you go home tonight?" The boy shook his head with a care-free kind of smile.

"Nope." He put his hands behind his head, shifting the cigarette in his mouth with his teeth and tongue.

"Why?" Brian asked genuinely.

"I'm a free spirit." The boy chuckled, blowing out smoke in Brian's direction. Brian tried to control his cough as he breathed in the smoke. The boy chuckled again, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He held it out to Brian. "Try one." Brian cleared his throat, and tried to keep cool. He didn't want to wimp out, but he was only 14. What would his parents do to him if they found out he was smoking. He swallowed and raised his eyebrows.

He reached out and took one, rolling it around in his fingers. The boy suddenly flicked a lighter in his face. Brian put the cigarette in his mouth quickly and the boy lit it for him. He inhaled slowly. Something caught in his throat, and his lungs shook. He coughed violently. The boy laughed again putting his lighter away..

"The cough'll go away in a bit." He took in a deep breath, holding it and looking up at the darkening sky. "What's your name, kid?" Brian rolled his eyes. He wasn't a kid.

"Brian," he said, still trying to control his cough. "You're in Mr. Danbridge's class, aren't you?" The boy nodded.

"Name's Matt." He pulled his cigarette from his mouth, licking his lips quickly. He looked down at the stub in his fingers and threw it to the ground, stomping it out with his black sneaker. "But, call me Shadows. My friends call me Shadows." Brian hid a shudder. Matt's face was pale but his eyes were dark. "Nice to meet you Brian."