The Book of Tears | ARMAGHIDDON

Ch 19

Chapter 1

Would you mind being away from home for a little while?

It’s not a long stay, I promise. So brief you won’t even be missed. But I can’t wait forever for an answer, so- Coming or not? You’re more than welcome to stay there, but you’ll appreciate your time here if you decide to come along. I promise it’ll be electrifying, if not an unforgettable experience by nature.

A gamble, I admit. Truth be told, I wasn’t sold on the idea initially myself. So I asked myself the question as bluntly and straight-forward as I could. But that pool of response was undoubtedly going to be very shallow. You can never take the advice of one person as if a group has spoken, because it’s not like there’s hundreds of that person with which to run the question by again and again.

So I asked myself again. And again. And I kept going until I had quite the number of answers, all of which were yes! Without any real hesitation, and quite decidedly. I suppose that’s a bit strange since I wasn’t feeling particularly privy to the concept.

Regardless, it’s been a while, and surely the opinions originally posited have had time to shape and change with time. Come, let’s be off, and we’ll see what all of me think.


The Book of Tears
ARMAGHIDDON


Down, and Down, and Down. The sound of splintering wood filling the air, the sickening crack of explosion consuming the oxygen in the space once occupied by the most ironically flightless person in the world.

No debris could inhibit his vision, as his entire head was protected by a sleek black helmet, which consisted of one smooth visor, running the length of his face and opening at the top to allow a black streak of hair to come up from the middle. His jacket, black leather, was opened and sucking as much of the wind in as he plummeted, the wing emblazoned on the back doing little to actually aid his descent.

Off to his right, something yellow flashed. Small, dropping like a rock, cloaked in purple attire which fluttered and flopped in the fall. Looking once at his destination and abandoning all chance of personal safety being upheld on his part, Winger cut through the air and cradled the limp form of Cordax in his arms.

Something dark caught his attention off to the side - but it was too late. The ground was fast approaching. Turning to absorb the impact of flat ground, Winger slammed into two telephone lines, which groaned as they absorbed the majority of the shock, snapping as he touched the ground and sending a violent current through him and into the fragile package he carried. Two blue eyes flared to life at the charge, and Cordax immediately stood up, naive to the circumstances around him.

“I’m up, I’m up.” He glanced about. “Um… The boat is,” And looked up just in time to get him by a shower of wooden debris, varying sizes colliding into the backstreet all around him. Panicking, he ducked under the safety of a slightly extended roof and waited for the splinters to cease dropping.

Now for Cordax, the world was a fair bit bigger than it was for most people, as he was exceedingly short. His yellow, mechanical body did not have the height advantage that would allow him to view things from a heightened perspective, so one glance at Winger told him a piece of wood had skewered his stomach and the son of Ghid now lay bleeding out in the street. Shrieking, he bolted at the top of his speed over to Winger, who sputtered and brushed away the piece of wood, which had only been held propped up by his arm.

“B-Back.” He tensed as Cordax attempted to lift him by the shoulder. “We fell… I think, the boat isn’t exactly functional now.”

“How do you-” Cordax began to inquire, but the large amount of wood shrapnel around him answered his question. “Ah. Right. Racie was on the same side as us, is she-?”

The dumpster on the opposite end of the street suddenly groaned. Bolting over and leaving Winger to struggle upwards on his own, Cordax jumped and strained his legs until he managed to grab the edge, pulling himself up and looking in to see Racie, face-down in mostly paper garbage, all neatly bagged.

Overjoyed, Cordax pulled Racie up and stood appalled at her immediately falling back down in. “Something’s wrong with her!” Cordax pulled at her shoulder, but Winger’s hand dragged him back.

“Something’s wrong with you.” Winger breathed, a shattered beam serving very poorly as a crutch. “She could have a concussion, and we have to be careful with her. My back is hurting like nothing else, so I think we’ll have to wait here until she gets up on her own.”

He slumped down next to the dumpster, leaning against it and squeezing his knee in pain. Cordax joined him after a short taste of the street as he climbed out of the garbage receptacle, coming to the mind-boggling conclusion that it did not taste good at all. “What’s going on?”

“Well, Cordax,” Winger said, looking back upwards as a large glowing orange ball began devouring cars that were flying through the air. “I’d say it’s the end of the world.”

Ch 2

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