Landing Feet First

Aquila grimaced at the slumbering newborn in his arms. “Oh, this will never do. Even only a couple of hours old and I already know he will be too kind. What do you have in store for me, Lord?” he asked, looking up past the hospital ceiling. Nothing happened, as usual from their ever-silent God.

“The Lord always has a plan, Aquila,” the tired woman promised, rocking the fidgety and restless newborn in her arms.

“Now that! That is a child that will protect all evil! She is much too energetic and feisty to fight for all good!” Aquila proclaimed, trying to trade babies with the woman. “Yes. Yes!” he declared as the baby girl reached up to touch his face and gurgle at him. “She is much better set for evil, dear mother. And I am much better set to raise her.”

The mother of the twins raised a brow at him, instinctively pulling the baby in her arms closer to her body. “What do you mean, Aquila?!”

“I mean, I am going to take this one and raise her the way God intended. And you are not what God intended,” he stated placidly, pulling out the pistol from his belt and pointing it at the mother. She gasped at him, her eyes wide, and the gentle newborn tight in her gasp. “I am.” Aquila smiled kindly before pulling the trigger.

The bang of the shot bounced loudly out of the barrel of the gun, horrifying the newborns to cry out loudly in sync. The mother, blood dripping down between her glazed eyes, slumped in her bed letting her grasp around her baby go. The gentle baby whined and cried out, not understanding what had happened. Aquila snorted at him before shaking his head. The fierce one in Aquila’s arms thrashed out her arms as she cried, trying to protect herself.

“Now now, child. Hush, you.” He cooed to the baby girl as doctors and nurses ran into the room breathless and confused from what they saw. “These people won’t touch you.”

There was an alarm raised and security called, but Aquila acted as if they couldn’t do a thing as he pointed his pistol at them. Because, with whom he’s connected with, they couldn’t do a thing. Not to him or these twins. He looked back at the fussing baby. “We’ll be home soon, I promise. And, there, you shall be raised to your full poten-”

Suddenly, the room went silent. The world froze over. Aquila looked around at the motionless people, their faces blurred and grayed and stationary. He noticed policemen who were once rushing down the hallway towards his room. He noticed the nurses who screamed and doctors who gasped in fear. All the havoc he had caused just to raise this child right.

“You are not right, Aquila,” came a voice from above. A god-like, praiseworthy voice that was full of power and knowledge and so full of love.

Aquila stared at the ceiling above him, flabbergasted. “G-God? My- My Lord! You… You’re speaking to me!”

“Yes, indeed I am. To prevent you from doing what is wrong.” He stressed the last word.

“What am I doing wrong, My Lord?! I only wish to please you!” Aquila promised, dropping to his knees. “I have one of the chosen children! The other is on the bed there, your Highness, King of all kings!”

“That child in your arms; she was not born for evil. She was born for good.”

“But your Highness!”

“No Aquila. Her destiny is set just as her brother’s is. He was born for evil. And they were both meant to be raised by a mother of low earnings. To save this world. Now you killed her.”

“But you putting them here is what gave the world its problems. If they are to fix what they have caused, why put them here in the first place?!”

“They are mankind’s answer document. How they live and die will show me whether mankind is worthy of staying.”

Aquila looked down at the child, guilty for what he has done. “What shall I do, my Lord? What… How can I repay for my sins?” he asked, exasperated and ashamed.

“You must raise the girl in the ways of good. Send the boy to a modest family. And you must let whatever happens happen. This is a test of worthiness, Aquila. Not of good and evil.”

“So, the girl…”

“The girl, born feisty, rebellious, and resilient will be the fighter for all good.”

“And the boy, born kind, gentle, and sweet will be the protector of all evil…”

17 Years Later

“Come on, mate. Just a couple a drinks down at the Tesco! Nobody will even know you’ve been missing!”

“Nah, Mitch. I gotta get home or else.”

“Or else what? Your mum’ll bollock you?!” Mitch teased.

“Nah, Mitch. She’ll just attempt ta cook and the house’ll be burnt to ashes is all. Can’t be havin that, now could we?”

Mitch threw a face at him. “Whatever. In a bit, Regret!And stay well, eh!” he shouted behind his back.

“Aye, you too, mate. Talk to you later!” Regret waved goodbye as they went their separate ways. He sighed, dropping his hands to grasp the straps of his satchel as he waited for the light to tell him he could cross.

Suddenly, as if they were called, someone appeared in front of the boy. But this didn’t startle Regret in the least. The strange child, who’s black, beady eyes looked up at Regret with genuine concern, reached up as if trying and touch and comfort the boy’s face.

“Stop it, Sam. You know you can’t do that…” Regret sighed, turning away from the tiny, frail, youngster.

"Are you worried about that boy, master?" Sam asked in his mousy voice, staring at Mitch as he walked away. "You needn't worry about him, master! He won't get sick. He'll never get sick! Oh, only if you want him to master. If you want him to get sick he will undoubtfully get very very sick!" Sam rambled on, trying to comfort Regret.

"I would not want this sickness on anyone." Regret snapped at Sam. "If I could help it, no one would ever get gene X. That is why I am going to find a cure, Sam. I am going to help everybody."

"But there is no cure, master!"

"There is always a cure."

Sam winced at this and drew his hand back to his chest where it fussed and twitched nervously with his other hand. "There is one cure, but you might not like it, Master..." he stated under his breath.

Regret sighed again. “I am sorry, Sam. I did not mean to hurt you. It is just…” He looked up at the sky in exasperated wondering. “My nana won’t ever come visit me, will she?” he whispered.

Sam looked back up at him in excited hope, his large, pale ears wiggling in delight. “Maybe one day, master!” he stated with enthusiasm, his hands twirling around one another in joy.

“But she has been deaded for just about three months now, Samuel. I do not even know you and you visit me everyday…”

“Maybe she’s busy…”

“With what? She has kicked the buck-”

“Who ya talking to, bro…?”

Regret jumped out of his socks. He turned around, his heart racing, to find a girl. “Uh, uh nothing.” He lied, shaking his head furiously at her.

She raised a brow at him before nodding, her expression in sarcastic disbelief. “Right…” she agreed, looking down at where Sam was.

Unexpectedly, Sam hissed at the girl and quickly scurried behind Regret, something he has never seen before. He looked back at the girl, curious as to why Sam seemed so afraid of her. She simply stared back at him without a single care, chewing on her gum loudly. Regret looked her up and down. She didn’t button up her dress shirt to reveal the Green Day tee she had underneath. She wore fishnet stalking under her skirt and long, black boots. Her hair, as jet black as his, hung in a high ponytail but still managed to reach past her buttocks. When he managed to look at her eyes, they were fiery and intense. So much so that he was forced to look away and gulp in fear. She was the physical definition of total rebel. Yet she had this total déjà vu, nostalgic feel to her. It was shocking.

The girl slung her backpack from over her shoulder. “Ya cool, bro? You look a little beat.” She commented, though her tone sounded as if she could care less.

Regret was forced to look back, but, instead of answering, he gasped at the sight of a shining scabbard… He looked back at the girl, finally realizing who she was. The new transfer student from America! She’s been here a semester, but can’t even manage to get a friend. They say it’s because of some weird turrets that make her awkwardly swing around the hilt of a sword. That is, just the handle of a sword and nothing else. But he wouldn’t really know. He hadn’t seen her do it himself.

She pulled out the scabbard and looped it through her belt so effortlessly; she made it look like she was putting gloves winter morning.

“Wh-what’s that for?” Regret asked, suddenly nervous at her nonchalant behavior with such an object. And Sam hissing and spitting in complete fury right next to him wasn’t helping.

The girl shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just in case my turrets act up, ya know? Chill, I won’t hurt you. You gunna cross?” she pointed across the street.

“No Master, no! You mustn’t walk with her!” Sam hissed.

Regret gulped back at the girl. “Um, y-yeh. I am.”

“Then get a move on, kid. Let’s go.” She walked on ahead.

Regret stumbled to catch up, still flabbergasted. “I’ve never seen you walk this way before…”

“I try different ways home every day. Just to know the area better and to know every possible way home.”

“Master, she is no good, Master! Get away from her!” Sam hissed louder, trying to stop Regret without touching him. Regret threw a questioning glare at Sam. He just couldn’t walk away from her now. They’ve already started talking. It would be rude if he just left. Not that he could bring himself to leave her anyway…

“Do you always look and make faces at the empty spot next to you?” the girl asked, slight annoyance in her voice. “You don’t actually see anything there, do you?”

Regret stopped. No one had ever noticed his silent interaction with Sam before. How could she tell? “Can I… confess something to you?”

The girl stopped and turned towards him. “Why?” she asked, giving him a look.

Regret felt his cheeks warm up. Indeed, why. Why did he feel this compulsive need to tell her about Sam? “I… I just feel like I can tell you, is all…”

The girl chuckled before putting her hands on her hips and smiling at him. “K then. What do you need to tell me?”

Regret took a deep breath in while Sam whined and squealed like a child, obviously against the confession. “I… I am a medium. I can speak to the dead.”

“So, you’re speaking to a dead person.” The girl stated.

Regret did a double-take. That wasn’t the response he expected. “W-well. Yeah. Sam is a dead person.”

“Sam, eh?” she chuckled. “Well that’s good. And here I thought I was gunna have to do something terrible.” She teased, walking on.

“Terrible? Like what?” Regret asked, catching up to her.

The girl shrugged, her face smug.

“Oh, a secret, huh?” Regret smiled along with her.

“Yep~” she sang out, popping her lips at the end.

Suddenly, Sam, furious and desperate, ran in front of Regret, his arms out to halt the boy. Regret skidded on his heels at the surprise stop and looked down at the frail boy. But the girl was faster…

Gripping on to her hilt, she raised a long, mighty sword from her scabbard and, in a matter of blurry seconds, slew it through Sam four of five times leaving him to screech, a screech so high pitched and eerie it made his ears want to bleed, before crouching down and bursting to nothing in a flash of bright lights.