YOU HAVE... ONE-HUNDRED... THIRTY-FIVE... NEW MESSAGES... FIRST MESSAGE:

'Andy~ Where are you, you've been out an awful long time.'

Next message:

'Andy, damn it, it's getting late, come back now!'

Next message:

'God, this is so f***ing like you, you are probably off with some f***ing floozie, I can't take my eye-'

Message deleted, next message:

'You bastard, I knew you would do this to-'

Message deleted, next message:

'YOU ARE MINE, ANDY! MINE!! YOU ABSOLUTE F*** OF A BROTHER, YOU PROMISED THAT-'

Message deleted, next message:

'I'LL KILL-'

Message deleted, next message:

'DON'T EXPECT ME TO BE-'

Message deleted, next message:

'AND-'

Message deleted, next message:

'I-'

Message deleted, next message:

'....You... You promised...-'

Message deleted, next message:

'Andrew...?'

Next message:

'Andrew... I'm sorry... Did I make you mad...?'

Next message:

'... Please be okay...'

How many days had it been now, two, three... A week? Time didn't really matter now.

Though hearing Ashley's voice through the tinny earpiece of his at one time passably modern mobile phone settled his nerves, he couldn't find the strength to speak to her. Not to face her. Not to return back to her side where he had always belonged. Not just yet. Not after what he had done.

But what had he done?

That was the question that ate at him as he nestled firmly between vending machines at an all but abandoned park kiosk, his reflex to vanish into the nowhere any time life got complicated. And it never stopped being complicated. Heavy was his mind as the lights of the urban sprawl filtered in through the haze of tobacco smoke, rolling over every action he had taken, every word he hadn't spoken.

And still they knew.

NEW MESSAGE:

'... It is because I called you Andy...?'

How long had it been? Ten, twelve years now? Each night Andrew could still hear that withering cough in his dreams, the desperation of splintering fingernails against crate boards, the betrayal in Nina's voice as she struggled to understand what was happening to her. Why her friend would order the lid sealed. Why the boy she liked would follow the order lockstep, with not but a token opposition.

Somehow, forced to face these memories again more fully, the answer of 'Ashley said so' did not seem to carry as much water as it once did. It wasn't an excuse that was going to buy his way out of this. Not after he had so pointedly been interrogated on the matter by one who had no right to know. Not after he had so loudly been reminded of the woman Nina never got to be because of him. Andrew wanted to blame himself, did blame himself, but somehow given the circumstances that didn't feel right either.

He had gotten away with murder. Manslaughter. Same difference. It was over, no one had to know but himself and whatever waited for him the day he stopped being a coward and did the right thing for once.

And still they knew.

NEW MESSAGE:

'Andrew, are we okay...?'

It was sobering the conclusion that he had come to. Others had to have made the same choices he and Ashley had. The same type of bargains, the same deals trading things beyond price for... What, knowledge? Visions? Ashley had gained prophecy, or close enough to it. Glimpses at what the future could be. Their clarity and accuracy had always been alarming. Marks of familiar claws etched eternal into his shoulder blades were testament to that. And the cost? One life, one vision. Hefty a fee. But Ashley never was one for overthinking at a bargaining table. Or anywhere else. Or thinking in general. Cute f***ing dumbass.

What fee had this new player paid? He had seen her reward, glimpses of the past. How his scope of reference perceived it, at least. A powerful tool, Andrew reasoned as he rose from his isolation. Step by step he would circle the park vending kiosk, looking for any signs of security cameras. Old enough to not have thought of the need for such things, he imagined. Before his time, if the make of the machines were any indication. And far away enough that voices wouldn't carry. Enough spaces between machines for his needs...

Good. That was a future Andrew solution for a present Andrew problem.

But things hadn't gotten that far... Not yet.

Not quite yet.

A sigh rattled his frame as he accepted that he just had too little information to do anything with. The woman seemed to be like him... Like his sister... So the worry of her talking to her diverse friend pool on the topic was sarcastic at best. Thank god for society and it's habit of making f*** ups and castoffs. And from his experience, her gift of the sight wasn't exactly a free ride. Far from it. This opened some doors as far as options went. It wasn't perfect, or pleasant, but not could be done but waiting.

Fingertips tapped in practiced rhythm, beating out the vending machine's debug codes and selecting a variety of drinks and snack packets likely past their expiration dates to fill the jury-rigged basket the front of his sweater served as. Not that he could be picky. He could feel it. The encroaching mists that always seemed to settle into his lungs as the adrenaline of overthought wore off. The electric buzz of nerves betraying him as he oft claimed they did at night.

Andrew hoped the token offering would be enough to calm his sister's temper when he got back to their nest, to allow him to sway the narrative just enough to lessen the clash and allow himself another night resting in her arms, another night of pretending that every sacrifice, every severed mortal coil had been worth it as long as she was safe. Andrew needed that reassurance, that he had been doing the right thing, that none of this was his fault because he had to. That had he not he would be alone, that because he had he didn't have to be.

Andrew couldn't stomach the idea of being alone with his thoughts tonight, of being without aggressive distraction.

He didn't trust himself not to f*** up and actually do the right thing for once.