PToE: A Red Winter

PToE: *A Red Winter*



Xenon: Thirteen Years Ago

Winter always came early, and Xenon had begun to understand that only this year. The snow which lay on the ground was a cool winter blanket, shining with the lights as if it were made of satin.  Even Xenon's hair sparkled and blended in with the background, the light blonde shade dyed that way about a week ago. He held tightly onto the hand of his older brother Krypton, in fear of being lost among the crowds. Everyone appeared to be out on the streets, having themselves a wonderful time.
Sounds rustled and blurred together into one obnoxious buzzing. For a while, the siblings walked in a thread of  silence until they reached a dark building. All the windows were blocked, but loud vibrations appeared to be coming off of it. Krypton sighed and shook his head, the white snow melting in the dark abyss of his hair. With a small smile, he knelt and gently grabbed Xenon.
"Wait for me here okay? You can't come inside because you're too little."
Xenon frowned at his older brother, afraid and at the same time baffled. But he nodded and stood there, obedient as he could muster the will to be. With small golden eyes, he watched as people walked by, keeping to themselves and huddling from the cold. The cold of the night began to seep into his bones as well, the icy chill nipping at the back of his neck. Time stood still for what seemed to be an eternity, the sun falling deeper into the horizon until it was completely gone. Xenon could no longer feel his nose, and had given up on his quest to keep it warm.
Small voices rose from the staircase nearby, and eventually overwhelmed the small alley. Xenon listened to them, recognizing the high pitch squeal of the youngest sister in his family, one year younger than himself. He looked at Radon, confused as she bounced out of the building, her dark, short hair bobbing about. It made no sense to him until he saw big brother Neon walk out with Krypton, and only then did Xenon feel a tinge of jealousy as well as fury. Radon always got to go where Neon went. Apparently it made Neon calmer, allowed him to think clearer. Why, Xenon didn't understand, but when his brother's came over to him, he ignored them and turned away. No matter the effort Krypton made to get his attention, nothing changed Xenon's mind.

Radon: Present

There's heavy traffic today. Smoke rises from the exhaust pipes of cars, clouding the air, and the chill is no help. It only turns the gas into a fog which looms about. I swear it would be ten times better to travel the streets had Xenon woken up earlier. But like usual, he cares about no one else and slept in, screwing over any previous plans. God, how I hate him some times. I've never met such an arrogant, prideful, son of a bitch who can tell cup sizes apart with one simple look. But big bro Krypton denies that he's all bad; there's some good somewhere in his stupid face.
I find that hard to believe, even now as he sits pretty peacefully in the shot gun. There's a dagger attached to his belt hoop on both sides, his preferred choice of weapon. He turns to me, grinning like an idiot and then tilts his head to a side.
"What are you looking at? Got something on my face?" his hand unconsciously goes to his right eye and I frown. It's the scar he got from the little kid Krypton and I were taking care of.
"No you dumb ass. I was looking past you. I'm trying to decide where we should stop."
"Huh, you gotta be a bitch, don't you?" He looks out the window while running a finger along the pane. The heat from it causes the fog on it to evaporate, leaving a line behind. "Just stop anywhere," he continues, "It's not like we can avoid walking anyways in this goddamn mess of shitty people."
My foot presses against the break, leading the car to a slow stop against the sidewalk. Xenon runs a hand through his neon green hair and steps out, taking in a deep breath of the cool air. I sigh and follow him, shivering as the cold air caresses my neck in such an uncomfortable way. People weave about, avoiding ice as well as small piles of snow. Our footsteps on the other hand, crunch through the weather-covered ground; the only comfort between our awkward silence. Clouds begin to gather, and before the people can prepare themselves, there's an onslaught of wind and snow.
"Fuck, I thought it was supposed to be clear today!" Xenon shouts, trying to run for cover. I grab his hand and drag him into an alley, where the high walls blocks the wind and the snow becomes only a mild drift down to the Earth. "Goddamn shit, Radon. How in the fuck are we gonna go up there for any fuckin' clues at this point!"
"Calm down, dumb ass. We don't have much hope of finding anything anyways, but if Helium wants it, then we do as he says."
"You're the only one who dares to call him Helium - the day he hears you, you're gonna get smacked." He shuffles his feet and looks around. "Look there, aren't we fuckin lucky? There's a step ladder.  Let's use it to get up there."
He's gotta hate me or something, but I shrug off his remark in the end and start following him up the ladder. It's not like I don't return those kinds of feelings as well. Like a whip, the cold wind blows about our faces as we get higher up the side of the building.
Last night, one of Hydrogen's sisters was murdered, and as of today, we don't even know if Hydrogen herself is going to survive the bullet wound to her abdomen. Things are beginning to become suspicious and to be honest, I'm quite wary of all these ominous signs. They've begun to over affect big brother Neon and that fact makes me quite upset.
After a good eternity, we finally reach the top of the building. Snowflakes continue to drift about us in such a terrible manner though, that it is difficult to stay stable and manage to keep from hurting ourselves. Ice lines the roof top, and any evidence that could have been up here is definitely gone. The layer of snow has either covered it, or the wind has blown it away. Our goal was to find either dust from the barrel or perhaps a bullet down below where Fluorine was shot. But at this rate, it's gonna be to no avail. My arms swing wildly at my side as I try to walk over behind one of the chimneys in hope of escaping the terrible wind, but Xenon remains where he stands, gripping his fists. I have never seen him so worked up over something, but perhaps the fact that it's a real death changes the matter profusely.
"Xenon!" I call out. "Get over here so we can discuss the next step!"
His feet shift heavily as he turns to me and eventually, he's facing me completely. It looks like a movie scene when the wind whips the tie out of his hair, releasing a mass of green strands that dance about his face. Even the little yellow mohawk that's usually perked up on his head has been completely flattened. All of it together kind of looks like an experiment gone wrong, but I recall the last time I told him that, he straight up punched me and it became a huge ordeal. The only one Xenon even semi listens to is Krypton and that's the only way the fight was able to stop. I don't get it… I just don't.
"Hold on! I think I may have found something!" he replies.
I groan and curl up against the frozen bricks  in wait. There's rustling and crunching as his feet move across the ground, then suddenly everything goes dead silent. Curiosity spikes my actions, making me turn my head around the chimney to see what in the world is going on. Xenon stands still though, watching something intently.

Xenon

The glimmer of an eye. A cold, harsh stare. Vibrant red slapping at  the wind, moving with a freedom unlike any other. Curls or straight? To tell would be impossible with the thickness of this fuckin' snow. My feet seem to be entranced.
Who in the hell is this person? What the fuck could she be doing a top such a desolate building?
There's a flashback then. Fluorine, cold like the snow. Eyes, white like the snow.
Death everywhere, something untrustworthy and a backstabber unlike any bastard I've ever seen. It can be delivered so simply though, something so much more illegal than any drug. It's smuggled across countries and groups with a simple bullet. The handle of a knife. Unstoppable and even unavoidable. Terrifying but a natural part of life. The red of her hair, the red of blood.
She then looks over at the chimney. Radon… can Radon sense this atmosphere?
"Xenon! What's the matter? Did you find something?"
I look at the girl. The woman, whatever the hell she is.  Her head snaps over in Radon's direction and I see a small purple stain across her cheek. I wonder.
"Who are you!?" I shout to get her attention again.
She makes no sudden movements then as she slowly walks in my direction. I can only imagine how wonderful of a target I am, in neon green and yellow. But she's just as obvious, even more so than me at this point.
"Who are you?" I repeat the question with less damn confidence.
Language is fuckin' limited, but at this point, so is my sight. I don't recognize her. She resembles no one I know, no one I've ever seen. And saying that is strange, for I do get my lovely way around.
Now that's she closer, the gun in her hand is visible, but I can't tell which kind. My hands instantly goes for my daggers before something fuckin creepy resonates in the air. It's laughter, mocking, but surreptitious. She's fuckin' crazy and it's going to drive me insane if I don't find out what this is all about.
Suddenly, it clicks like some bitch who understands why she's been smacked. The red. The gun. Evidence and the death. It was her and my gut can't  lie to me now.
"You son of a bitch! It was you, wasn't !?"
I can see Radon look at me confused at the sudden irritation sliding off my tongue.
"So, you can tell? I knew you'd come back." She smirks. But there is nothing behind it. Nothing but a shadow of the fear that should've made me afraid. Again, I wonder, something I rarely like to do anymore. Reality can't be anymore than reality, otherwise the bonds become too easily severed. The gun clicks into place and my daggers slide out of their hilt.
There is no fuckin' doubt in my mind that I will protect my family because they are the pride of my existence. But they are also the reason for my shitty being. One way or another though, I sense I have reason behind my fighting. This… woman of red on the other hand has nothing, and it can be read simply from the blank stare of her eyes.
Her blood red eyes.