Chapter Text
Saparata had a chained life. Or at least that was how he felt recently. Every step he took needed to be behind Turntapp. Wherever the proud leader of the strongest group in the entire world was, was Saparata too. Even when this meant he had to be in a place full of people thirsting to see his blood flow for crimes he had never committed.
The thought of staying without Turntapp in the place Saparata didn’t dare to call home yet had crossed his mind multiple times. A massive fortress casting shadows so big the sun didn’t even try to win the battle. But Saparata had heard the whispers. The people commanded to guard him were getting tired of doing so and he had gone too far to lose his life by the hand of a bored man. So he sticked close to Turntapp like a piston covered in slime balls. Whatever those slime balls were. You could only get them when you kill slimes, green blocky creatures Saparata had only heard about. They didn’t exist where he originally came from.
“The arrival of Infernus will happen,” said Turntapp and the Peacekeeper who had voiced his concerns too loud shrank a little. Turntapp was a towering figure, even though he was smaller than Saparata and honestly than most of the people here. But the leader did not need high advantages when his voice carried commands like second nature. Not when the sword by his side was the dullest so you would die a slow and painful death if you ever dare to turn your back against him.
Not when every breath he took was as strong as the scream of multiple fighters combined. Saparata had not cared to meet many people before and still was he sure that he wouldn’t meet a man like Turntapp again, that he wouldn’t find someone even similar strong on the globe.
“They know how it will look, if they don’t come. Infernus might be criminal but not stupid,” silenced Turntapp any further concerns and took a step forward to the building where the trial of Infernus will take place. The two leaders Cynikka and Harvest had sent assassins to obliterate the beloved Lingulini Mafia. Their punishment won’t be an easy one, surely not only Saparata was aware of that. And because of that formed doubt the words of all the present Nations. Why should Infernus arrive then?
Saparata had learned a lot about doubt. About the way it shapes you, eats you from the inside out as soon as you acknowledge it. He still doubted, too. But he was taking steps to shed it off his skin. Because doubt and hesitation were a killer. A reminder he didn’t need and still got as a blade suddenly hit his left arm forcefully.
Saparata was a coward, he knew that, because just like always he immediately bolted. No reason to live but his feet which still carried his weight away from danger like he did. Turntapp always says the arms are the real brain because they are acting eventually. In that case could go the same for legs? Did that mean his legs knew something he didn’t? Something making him sprint down the hill, ignoring the hands reaching for him. Stopping meant death, he had learned that multiple times before, and why stop doing something that works?
So Saparata will continue to run. And Fluixon will continue to set traps.
Saparata will continue to run away from Fluixon, even when he wants nothing more than to turn around and find the guy he had called his best friend since basically forever. And Fluixon will continue to set traps to make Saparata’s life even worse. A match made in the deepest pit of the Nether.
A hand, firmer and stronger than the ones before, grabbed Saparta’s shoulder and yanked him into a stop. “It’s alright, kid.” Turntapp’s dark eyes pinned Saparata where he was. “He is dead. You are safe. Wanna keep his head?”
Saparata turned that offer down quickly. He had never thought he ever would be at a point where a kill would be the reason relief filled every bone of his being. Still, he wasn’t so far gone yet, that he planned on taking the head of the man with him. He knew many found satisfaction in displaying the head of their kills – mostly serious enemies – as a trophy or disrespecting it. Saparata felt no urge to do so by any means. “Good. We’re heading inside!” announced Turntapp. He let his hand rest longer on Saparata’s shoulder, not letting him go.
The boy was not sure if it was to avoid he will run away again or to comfort him. Strangely he didn’t gave a fuck. The contact was grounding, reminded Saparata about his weird new reality: he was not alone. Not anymore.
The hand stayed and so did the feeling of security as Saparata was navigated through the sea of bodies. People stepped back, ogled the weapons in the Peacekeepers’ hands and avoided eye contact. Was this how power felt? Or was it just being greeted by fear? Maybe there was no difference. Either way, Saparata liked it.
Here he was. The traitor everyone thought had killed multiple leaders and high ranked people with a fake smile and a trap, a move no one had expected or even considered. It was not true. Saparata had no blood on his hands, but he could guess how it might looks to others right now.
The smart turncoat now accompanied by the strongest force not only on Island 1 but Island 2 too, and for the first time in what felt like forever allowed Saparata himself to raise his head under the encouraging hand of a mighty head figure who had no reason to trust him but still did. Saparata’s next words were only acknowledged by Turntapp with a dismissing movement of his head, like he saw no worth in them. “Thank you, Turntapp.”