Air Raid

Santo was making his usual rounds around Glamour, stopping by to see Freya before his meeting with Mr. Midas. Her information regarding the upcoming conflict between the unnamed bandits and the overseas soldiers was going to be crucial in strategizing the best deal possible. While he was there, he gave her the same confession as he did with Talus explaining his disappearance, and she simply laughed in response.

"You always were painfully optimistic," she said. "But it's because you dream so big that you've gotten this far. I'm with Talus on this one. Waiting to tell us until you could prove yourself was the right call. As much as I hate to admit it."

"I am still so-"

Freya hushed him with a single finger to the lips, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Enough, dear. We shouldn't let the past weigh us down when we have so many children to carry towards the future. How are they doing, by the way?"

Santo blinked twice, a little confused by her actions, but he shook it off and answered, "They're well. I'm amazed at how much Judas had grown over the months. When he heard I was going to the city today, he even offered to fill up the tank for me."

"Aw, how sweet," Freya replied, resting her chin in her hand as she thought back to the play some time ago. "He really was trouble at the start, so I'm glad he's come around."

Santo nodded in agreement. Their session came to an end not long after that, but at least they were able to stop it on a positive note. He noticed Freya had a tendency to shift the conversation so that was almost always the case. It likely came with the experience of her job.

As he was getting ready to leave, he said, "I appreciate all of your help. Really, I do."

Freya let out a small laugh that rang like a copper bell. "I know, dear. Take care."

The drive to Mr. Midas was surprisingly calm. There was noticeably less cars on the road, and the majority of people out on the streets were the poor souls struggling to find food and shelter. The contrast between seeing them and the mansion Mr. Midas owned just a few blocks away was a frustrating sight, yet his power was limited. He had to pick and choose his battles, and he was already doing well with what he had.

Mr. Midas was eagerly waiting for him in the living room, sitting on his golden throne while the fireplace beside him burned ferociously. Santo sat down on one of the couches, noting that the pillows and blankets that usually decorated them were missing. The guard stood behind him, observing over the meeting with his sunglasses still remaining on his stoic face.

"We don't need to waste time," Mr. Midas stated casually, catching Santo by surprise. "You probably caught wind of what's going on." He spread his arms wide like the wings of an eagle, his excitement ready to soar. "The war against terror is about to reach its climax! And with it, I'll need to trade more than ever!"

"Then we're on the same page," Santo replied, maintaining his calm composure in the face of a profiteer of death. "Since we're not wasting time, I'll say now that I'm not letting you purchase the bridge."

"Oh, I know! I have a better offer." His grin stretched long and wide, beyond what some might consider to be possible. "Ten million for the next year. That should be good, yeees?"

Santo nearly fell over in shock. That was far more than what he had anticipated, planning on getting half that amount if he played his cards right. As tempting as it was, he had to keep it together to avoid getting sucked too quickly into the offer.

"Is there a catch?" Santo asked.

"No catch! The sooner I get the good men their weapons, the more money I'm paid. You have to spend money to make money. That's all."

Santo remained silent for a moment, rubbing his chin as he carefully mulled it over, then said, "Fine. But it will be in monthly payments and I can back out at any time without consequence."

Mr. Midas extended a hand, its sweat glistening from the glow of the fireplace. "You have a deal."

This was all far too easy, yet Santo accepted regardless. There was a danger to letting military trade go through the bridge, but he was prepared. He had the necessary defenses set up since day one. If this was some kind of plan to make him a target to the enemy, it wasn't going to work. Santo bet his life on that.

After Santo finished signing the paperwork and began to make his exit, he heard Mr. Midas speak to him one last time with an oddly sentimental tone.

"Farewell, Santo," he said.

Yet Santo chose to ignore him, his back facing him as he stepped away.

Santo sighed and tried to organize his thoughts as he entered his jeep, pushing aside what ever mixed emotions he had at the moment. The deal was done, so he should just focus on what he had left to do before heading back home. The animals could use more feed. He can pick some up really quick. That seemed like a good plan.

The ride to the market was too quiet. There weren't any other cars on the road. Was there construction going on? His stomach churned with worry, but he dismissed it. It was probably nothing major. At least he would be getting home early.

He did feel a little better when he saw there were people hanging around the market. It was the standard vendors selling their scraps and wares to the people who haggled for as low as possible. However, as he scanned the area to find the animal vendor, he realized there was something different. Some of the ragged customers were not the same vagrants he was familiar with, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of a rifle peeking from under one of their robes, his chest tightened.

Then it happened. An explosion. Far enough to not be hit by the impact, but close enough to see the dust erupt from the earth and hear the roar of the inferno drowning out the screams. The strange vagrants dropped their facade and pulled out their weapons, pointing them at the vendors.

"GIVE US EVERYTHING YOU HAVE!" they shouted. "WE'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU IF WE HAVE TO!"

Santo withdrew behind a stack of crates, cursing himself for his bad timing and praying that he hadn't been spotted. What was going on? Where were the government soldiers that were supposed to be paroling the area? He should have listened to his gut, and now he was trapped with his head down.

As if to answer his prayers, an alarm siren blared throughout the city, echoing its message for all to hear.

"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! TERRORISTS HAVE INVADED THE CITY. REMAIN CALM AND SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. AIR RAID WILL BE COMMENCING SHORTLY. I REPEAT-"

Santo didn't know the details of this air raid, but he could at least conclude that Glamour was about to become a battleground. To prove his point, an aircraft zipped through the skies above the market, and another explosion soon followed. While this one was much closer, Santo was able to use the heavy crates as a shield from the impact, plugging his ears and shutting his eyes to protect himself. 

When he raised his head back up, he discovered the entire spot where the gunmen once stood had been decimated into a crater. The stands had been reduced to ash and rumble, while the people caught in the blast had been knocked around like ragdolls, their bodies gone limp and lifeless. Those who managed to avoid the blast began to panic, screaming and running around in a desperate attempt to escape.

Not knowing when the next bomb drop would be, Santo rushed back towards his jeep, bumping past the crowd as gunshots bellowed in the distance. More dangerous men ran through the streets, breaking through buildings and grabbing anyone they could use as possible hostages. When they realized all that remained where the homeless and unwanted, they opted to use them as shields instead, placing them in front as aircrafts pelleted them down. Some began retaliating by shooting whatever they had back at the aircrafts, targeting the ones that soared low enough to be in range. Even something so powerful and sturdy could fall if hit in the wrong places, as proven when one plane had its wing blown off, causing it to spiral straight into a building.

After weaving his way through the fire and chaos, Santo finally reached his jeep and hurried to unlock it with shaky hands. Unfortunately, one of the gunmen caught him in the act and grabbed him from behind, wrestling with him for the keys. Santo struggled and fought back as much as he could, even resorting to headbutting to stun him. The gunmen reeled back at bit, but refused to surrender, pulling Santo back out right as he was about to get inside his jeep.

"Gimme the fucking car!" the man yelled.

Santo scowled and growled, "Never! Let go of me!"

Their brawl was then interrupted by another wave of gunfire from above, slicing through the air and raining down on the gunmen until he collapsed. Santo didn't even bother to confirm if he was dead or not, jumping straight into his jeep and driving off. He was forced to ignore the people bleeding and crying on the streets as he crossed the exit out of the city.

Finally, he could breathe again. Or so he thought. His sigh of relief quickly turned into a cough, then into a splatter of blood that spilled down his lap. He glanced down at his body and saw two bullet holes had ripped through his clothes, and the blood around them was expanding fast. Oh no.

To add insult to injury, his jeep started to clink and sputter before slowing down to a halt, stranding him in the middle of the road.

"Damn it," Santo muttered to himself. "Did the engine get shot?"

He opened the door and attempted to step out to take a look, yet he found himself tripping and falling onto the road instead. His body had lost a lot of energy already. Even when he tried to move, the best he could do was flip himself onto his back. Grey clouds rolled in as he stared up at them, watching them pass by as he fought to breathe through the blood bubbling up his throat. A single snowflake floated down the sky, then another, the number increasing until a flurry of snowflakes landed on the ground and on top of him. It was cold. It was getting too cold...

The quietness of the desert was broken by the sound of his cellphone ringing, but he couldn't answer it. It was still in the car. It kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. It lit up with a picture of a young Nina, smiling while hugging a stuffed bear on the day she received her mechanical arms, as it continued to ring. Then... the silence returned once more.

Santo hoped the children were alright. He tried his best to teach them to be smart and resourceful, but they were still kids. Not a single child he had saved was an adult yet. There was so much he had to do. There was so much he wanted to do.

The skies grew darker and the air got colder, or so he wanted to believe. His vision had gotten too blurry to see, his hands were too stiff to move, and his blood pooled around the snow. Was it even actually snow, or was it soot from the war he could never run from? The war none of them could escape? Even if it was all hopeless, they had to try. They had to keep on living.

Santo had many, many regrets in his life, and perhaps this was god's punishment finally coming to get him, yet he didn't care. It was never his life that he cared about. As much as he knew it would annoy them, he wanted to apologize to his friends again. He was going to leave them behind and force them to pick up where he left off. He'll have to treat them to a nice dinner to make it up to them. Yes... that should be good enough. He had done enough.

Slowly, calmly, and at peace, he closed his eyes... and drifted to sleep.