trans_9 | Dashing through the rubble

At times, Cedric has visions of gnawing his own arm off. He's not desperately hungry yet, but he's getting close to it. Being trapped in the City with no access to the slop is a recipe for disaster, after all, and he definitely can't hold out for another few hours. It's time to move while he still has the strength to.

It's a route filled with danger. Without any sort of Muggle firearms training, he only protection he has is his speed and a pile of rocks for throwing and swinging---that, and an improvised club, like the one he'd once taught new players on the Quidditch team to use. The useless wand still sits in a holster on his sleeve, as he can't bear to let that piece of his past go.

He crouches in the doorway, reminding himself that he has two choices: risk it all to survive or die. And the death if he's unlucky will be quicker than starvation. With that pleasant thought at the forefront of his mind, he runs and hopes he lucks out. That possible food storage is maybe six blocks away if he's read the map correctly. He has---but he's not lucky. A line of robots is marching down the street, right in his path.

The only choice is to run, dashing over and pushing over some unstable rubble. Maybe the rolling rocks will trip up the robots he's so desperately evading.

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"That we know of," Cedric whispers, sorting himself out and slipping on the gloves. He holds the uninjured side of Howard's head as firmly as he dares, coming in with the cloth to gently wipe the other side. He works to finish quickly, feeling the obvious discomfort.

"But I need to learn if I want to keep beating the odds as long as I can. Throwing rocks isn't going to get us out of here, your weapons will."

Still the stranger to the methods of fighting used here. He's just about useless without magic and he knows it.

"Hah. 'My weapons'. Hate to break it to you, man, but you need shooting lessons, I'm the wrong person to ask. I mean, I know how to fire one, but there's a reason I don't carry one."

He pulls away from Cedric, trembling only slightly. "If you find someone willing to teach you on the dime, that's good, but don't focus on going offensive right now. Just try and stay alive. Sooner or later, this'll blow over some way or another. You die before then, and I'm coming after you."

He pauses. "Not literally."

Cedric's only slightly disappointed. He works hard at finishing up the bandaging, making sure Howard's wounds are clean, safe, and secured before they move on.

"Or I might be the one haunting you," he taunts, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Some wizards become ghosts when they die. I'd probably move on, but there's always a chance I could have unfinished business..."

"Oh, come on, Cedric, you know you like me too much to haunt me." He winks and winces a bit. His face still hurts. He paws at his bandage a little, then raises his eyebrows. "Not a bad job, man. Maybe I'll get through another supply run without it falling off again."

"It's true," Cedric admits. "And I don't want to spook you, so if I want to stay with you, I have to survive."

He inspects his own work and nods, then shakes his head. "You said you were taking a rest after we get to the Vatican, remember? I'll take over."

"Yeah. You really don't need to add 'more ghosts' to the list of things I'm afraid of." That list is already longer than Cedric is tall.

"Oh, hell no. You have no idea what you're doing. You already almost got killed on round one." Howard wags a finger. "I'll make Diana do it. I at least trust her to not do anything stupid like feed her rations to orphans or whatever."

Cedric pouts. "I've never seen any orphans. Well. Except..." Harry, for one. Most of them, actually. Had their parents even lived? He sometimes doubts it, and that scares him. He's quiet for a few moments, thinking on all the people everyone has lost.

Trying to mask his disappointment, he leans against the wall and listens, busying himself with plans. "I just hope it's still secure. I need to ask someone to teach me to fight, I can't just sit around useless!"

Pent-up frustration bubbling over? Of course.

"Except me, hellooooo." It's a weird word, 'orphan', one that fits like a shirt worn in by someone else. Probably because he doesn't know if it's true, if it fits. No one in the FAYZ ever found out what happened to their parents, although none of the conclusions point in a happy direction. 'Orphan' is at least a better word than, Howard doesn't know, detritus or abandonable goods or whatever. "I'm the only orphan you're allowed to share with."

According to the rules Howard just made up, obviously.

"Yes, you totally can. Because if you get hurt other people will have to carry your dead weight around." Howard figures by now the only way to get Cedric to care about himself is to press at how his death will inconvenience others. "Besides, I already got Zou and Fangs to worry about. Don't make me worry for a third."

It's not easy to admit he cares. He looks angry at himself just for having said it.

Right. Howard too. Cedric's expression becomes serious, and he nods. "I will, you can be assured of that." He definitely wants Howard to live.

He remains stubborn on the training point, though. "I'll do it as safely as possible. If we're infiltrated and the people assigned to protect us aren't quite enough, wouldn't you rather I had a slightly better chance?"

"No," Howard says, totally blunt. "Because you, being you, will try and do some dumb heroic measure to protect the others at your own expense. And I'm just telling you now: don't."

Why throw away a second chance at life?

Cedric is upset by this point---partially because he knows Howard is right, and partially because he's afraid of what will happen when the whole situation is beyond his ability to help. On whether they win or lose, he has no influence. Powerlessness scares him more than just about anything else.

"I'm not going on the front lines, or outside, I know I don't belong there," he huffs, "but I will find a way to support everyone."

Pent-up anger from years of mockery at school is bubbling over. He remembers comforting distraught first years in the school common room, hearing taunt after taunt about the house of duffers. Hufflepuffs are useless, they've never contributed anything to our world, the other students would say.

Bravery's not just a Gryffindor thing.

"Jeez, jeez, okay." Howard puts his hands up in a pacifying gesture, sounding equally huffy. "Sorry I'm trying to keep you out of the line of fire. I'll just keep my thoughts to myself next time."

No, he won't. It's hard to break the habits of being controlling and manipulative. Hard to let things be as they are, instead of forcing them into what you want them to be.

And yes, he's sulking.

That's what makes Cedric realize what Howard is trying to say. It fully hits him then that Howard is worrying about him. He knows Howard well enough not to point this out---instead, he nods and pulls himself upright.

"Or maybe I'm just stubborn. Come on, let's get back to the Vatican. You need your rest, the crew needs their food, and I need to be locked away somewhere relatively safe."

That's a faint smile, yes.

"In a box. A big box with airvents and steel bars that's as good a prison to things inside as it is to outside robots and monsters and crap. A big, ginormous box with a rock on top of the lid and airvents, and steel bars..." Howard mutters, packing up his things and ready to go.

Cedric would die in the FAYZ. Howard's sure of it. And realizing that makes him feel that distance he feels with just about everyone. He wants to be like them, misses being like that.

Maybe that's why he likes Cedric.

Dashing through the rubble

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