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The date had been picked for a reason, of course. Even though he swore as he sketched a crude diagram of the fortress they were heading for, Bradley had done so thoughtfully. That was just the kind of man he was. In the dead of night, a few weeks after they’d been discussing it as a group, the air felt different. Electric. The moon was covered by clouds and at its last visible, leaving the fortress on the border of Central country and Northern country darker than it usually was. The fog swirling around the ground made it so much easier for brooms to disappear within it, and so they were flying lower than most dared to.
The wood in his hands felt natural, but he still dug his nails into it just to feel grounded even for a moment. He was bringing up the rear of the group, that was his preferred position. Though he was the leader and demanded he be on the front lines, his style was to be the last one in and out, to see that all went well for everyone else. Or, at least, as well as things could go.
Quickly in his younger days he’d come to realize that the one thing to always count on was the fact that something would go wrong. There was no getting around that, it was an inevitability and it was better to assume that it was coming than to be blindsided by that.
It shouldn’t have been a shock, then, when five of his men had been taken when the last job had gone wrong. It wasn’t any of their faults, really, but he’d still been yelling his lungs out, “Dumbasses! Get up, we need to move, they’re on you, now!”. And it sucked, to know that those words had been the last they’d heard as free men, before they’d been swallowed by the mob of soldiers that Bradley knew they did not have the numbers to counter and walk away still standing.
But that’s what had made this mission necessary. He had connections, old friends, people who feared him more than any other fools who dared mess with his gang. A few days had gone by and he’d contacted the right people, gotten the information he needed on where his men were being kept.
He knew what had been done to them, but really? He’d rather not dwell on that. Better alive than dead.
“Move. Right the fuck now,” he hissed at the others around him.
As if they were one being, they all moved. A pride of lions closed in on the stone behemoth that held their targets. With a smile that glittered even in the dim light, their leader waved them ahead. The wood of the rifle that had followed him so far felt so nice in his hands, even though he was gripping it tighter than was comfortable. His knuckles turned white, the adrenaline already pumping through him, making him feel higher than the stars that were hidden from him on that dark night.
He turned to glance at the man to his side, smirking at the way the blue hair was slipping out of the knot it had been in. With a raise of his eyebrows, he knew everything he couldn’t say out loud had been received. And so he kept moving.
In a single, fluid motion, the rifle had been raised. Squinting, he double checked that the shot would connect. Biting into his lip, he made a final adjustment, and then let his finger curl against the trigger. He always loved the feeling right before firing the first shot, the one that would ring the alarm, start the inferno. It was a power trip, he would admit that. And damn, did he love it.
“Adnopotensum.” With the murmur of the spell that had followed him so far, he pulled the trigger. A blinding light exploded out of the barrel, connecting squarely with the heavy metal door that was the first roadblock. It blew the door right off the hinges, and he chuckled as he heard it crash to the floor inside the fortress.
“What are you fuckers standing around for?! Move your assses, dammit! Don’t give them a chance to fight back!” He was barking out what he knew didn’t need to be said, and yet he did it anyway. He usually did, no matter what the stakes. With the rest of the men surrounding him, Bradley charged at the soldiers now pouring out of the building he’d blown the door off of. They mowed men down by the dozens and yet it was still overwhelming. Their blades still managed to nick him a few times, and he knew there’d be hell to pay from someone about that later. In the moment though he didn’t care, he just let his body dance around the blades that would have put down any other man.
He blasted through too many men to count, leaving bloody pulp where their heads used to be. He didn’t care at all, that these were lives he was taking. They knew what the cost would be, of messing with the bandits. And yet they dared to try and take his men away from where they belonged. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his second in command break out of someone’s grip and slit the poor bastard’s throat the moment he had an opening. Shooting a wink his way with a laugh, he blew the next door open and then they were running again, up and up the stairs. As they moved on, Bradley swore he could hear blood dripping slowly to the bottom.
He didn’t even bother to blow the door open at the top of the stairs. He kicked it open, relishing the sound of the wood splintering as it flew off the hinges. The rest of the gang flooded in behind him, and they took out the few guards who were left, their broken bodies lying in a corner where the light refused to land. With the main threat taken care of, the cells on the far wall became the focus. One by one, Bradley blew holes into the metal cells where his comrades were being held. Some of them stumbled out in a daze, barely able to comprehend that they’d be saved, and others couldn’t even walk from the abuse they’d taken. Those that couldn’t walk were quickly helped up by others and evacuated, to start the retreat back to the hideout.
The last cell though, no one walked out of. Bradley stepped in, expecting a similar situation to those who had been too badly beaten to walk out on their own. But that wasn’t what was awaiting him.
Lying in a pool of crimson was a man he’d known for over a hundred years. And it was too much blood. Blue eyes looked up at him, and the light that he’d so loved in them was going out, he knew. He looked defeated, lying on the dirty floor clutching his abdomen.
“Hey there, Boss,” he said, voice hollow. “You made it.”
Bradley knelt, taking his comrade’s head in his hands.
“Yeah… guess I did. Sorry it took me a long ass time.”
There was a long pause. They both knew, really, what was inevitable. It was a matter of time. As much as they liked to run from it, as much as it was fun to flip off that which there was no escaping from… in that moment they knew.
“You had a good run, man. Really. Is…” He trails off for a moment, knowing what he should say, but wondering if he even could say it. “... is there anything I can do for you?”
The dying man beside him laughs, but it’s hollow and full of gurgling, before he coughs up red to stain his face and neck.
“Sure is, boss. Finish the job for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”
… That was not what he wanted to hear. He was hoping it’d be something dumb, like pour one out for me, or some other thing. But… that wasn’t even the part that bothered him most.
The part that made him feel cold inside was that it was way too easy to picture his own voice saying that to the man he saw as his equal. I want to die on my own terms, living free. That was the creed he lived by, that he’d sworn to himself he’d stick to until it bit him in the ass or made him bite the bullet.
He spit the answer he knew was the right one out. It felt like bile in his mouth rather than what a loyal man he’d known for over a century deserved.
“Yeah. I will.” Three words and yet they felt like poison just getting out.
He brushed the bangs out of the familiar blue eyes, and then stood up after that last touch. He knew that it would be easier just to get it over with. Like ripping a bandage off. He looked the man in the eyes, knowing it was what he deserved, to die with the same intensity he had lived with.
“Thanks. We had a good run, yeah?”
“...Yeah. We sure did, Boss…” Weak, bitter laughter crawls out of his throat along with the blood and coughing.
Goodbye. He doesn’t have to say it though, knows that the man who’d been loyal to him knows it in his very heart as he presses the barrel of the gun he’d seen so many times against his head.
He doesn’t look away when he pulls the trigger. It’s the respect a friend deserves.
And when the skin that had been living moments before starts to crackle and turn to stone, he refuses to let his eyes leave. The last remnant of life was still there, after all. Curling his fingers around it, his eyes sweep over the statue that had been someone who had died for him, and he let that sink in.
The mana stone in his fingers he knew would have been glinting in the light if he dared look at it. The cursed moon was behind the clouds still, though, and so he didn’t have to look at it. Instead, as if in a trance, he pressed it to his lips. Without a moment of hesitation, he swallowed. He’d wanted to die by his own terms, after all. Bradley knew he wouldn’t mind.
“...Brad? We need to go. Now.”
Nero was calling him, and he turned on his heel to meet his second in command. He didn’t ask any questions. He saw the look on his scarred face and didn’t need to. The only thing that was said was in the slender fingers curling around his own, holding him tight.
Neither of them said much, the rest of that night. They didn’t need to.