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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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Staring at the ceiling. Wasn't much else to do while he took it all in.

The terrorist dude didn’t even have the decency to sound like he'd been entertained.

Every name and face that the dude rattled off, Ben felt something burned into his brain. Scorch marks crusted into a pan. Jennifer. Florentina. Scarlett. Cristobal. Barry. Abigail. Harold. Rea. Joshua. Too many damn names. He couldn't dwell on it too much. There was no time. But here he was, fucking at it while his back continued to erode into fleshy chunks against the cold concrete floor. He'd set up plays on the field with Cristobal, they'd had victory huddles and IHOP after game dinners. He'd gone to Scarlett’s home, pitied her for having to deal with Beaks’ bullshit. He'd befriended Rea his sophomore year, kept her safe as he could, watched her meet the maybe teenage sweetheart love of her life. He wasn't going to write a damn eulogy for any of them. It was a moral obligation, but it wasn't going to be him. Words were wasted, here and now.

He'd called the others peers once. He'd known their names and faces, and yet.

They'd let the terrorists have their names. Names were all they were now. Isabel. Nancy. Kimiko. Alvaro. Conrad. Alex. Jasmine. For fucks sake. He could still recall Lana's love of Alvaro's cafe, protecting him from bullies like Darius, debate prep with Alex-

Words wasted, natch. Ben could feel adrenaline again, it was peeling his ass off the floor in a millisecond and locking his shoulders square into place. It was familiar this time, comfortable. No more words, not any more. He'd already tried words, failed words, and what the fuck was the famous quote? Insanity was doing the same thing expecting different results. Maybe Lana'd read him that. Ben's plans so far had been all words. High time for actions.

Time to move to Nate's side. Ben felt guilty, treacherous for having ever doubted either of the other dudes in the room. Quick to strong conclusions, but they hadn't yet been good ones. Ben scuttled across the floor, shot Matt a side glance. Seemed he was out of words himself.

"Hey Nate." Ben put a strong, firm hand over Nate's shoulder. No tremble to that cramped malignant tumor of a hand, he was watching it carefully. "It's alright dude, we're gonna..."


"... Make 'em pay. We're gonna stop them from hurting anyone else. We're gonna try." Ben watched Nate of course, but he also had an eye on the bags. They had to calm down, take it all in. Get to the fight, after.
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