Afro stared at the window of the train, noticing the lines developing around his eyes. The blurred haze beckoning him to sleep, he was beyond tired. He was ready to give up, the same feeling of blackness that happened after Haven. When ghost found him, he was pretty much gone. Those memories still clawed at him, before he died.
James sat at the table, feelings of remorse shaking as he watched the first act take the stage. The count was ticking down, the litpols would be here soon.
He watched her as she took in the music. She was fearless, Cassandra had originally created the Haven as a resistance against the litpols, musicians would be free nomatter what. She finally realized James' was paying attention to her instead of the music."You ok Afro?" she was concerned for her friend.He had stumbled into the Haven a few months ago, he was fresh off the boat but still a good kid.
Afro nodded as he began running his finger slowly along the rim of his glass. "Yea, I'm fine, sorry just thinking." Cass smiled as she took a sip of her wine.
"Thinking is over-rated, you do it too much. Something you just need to live for that moment. Where you don't care about where you or, or who you'll be in the future. Just you..." She grinned as she stood from her chair.
"I'm heading backstage to get ready Afro, mind watching the weasel?" She picked Reeza off her shoulder and placed her on the table. The ferret flicked her tail once before settling into the center.
The night passed quietly and without any real issues until Cass took the stage. She began to sing songs of truth, love, and beauty. With her acoustic she could weave tales far greater then James ever felt possible.
Then the ending began, a solid slam as the door was kicked in. There was the sound of boots, of soldiers and guns. Litpols storm soldiers were filing into Haven. There were screams, shouts and everyone made a run for the exit. James knew what his orders were, hit the ground, and wait for the dust to settle. He couldn't move though, he was frozen on Cassandra. She didn't stop playing, for some stupid reason, she refused to stop playing. Her voice echoed louder then all the chaos about. Until the soldier snapped off a single shot, breaking both guitar and musician in a single shot.
Cassandra choked for a moment before she fell to the ground, James ran to the stage. He gently pulled Cassandra close before whispering over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Cassy..."
Cassandra didn't look angry, or upset. She gently reached up and ran her hand over James' face. "I know Afro, but," she coughed as a wave of pain overtook her. She focused on her thoughts again as she grabbed Reeza by the scruff. She placed the frightened ferret in James' hands as he began sobbing.
"Take Reeza, and run Afro," Cassandra's eyes fluttered closed, her song was sung. James felt something melt away with her. That night James died too, something else behind the quiet little lab geek was waking up.
He growled as he gently laid Cassandra on the ground. First thing was to get out, and get out now. Reeza quickly skittered into Afro's pack. He scanned the chaos for the first chance to bolt, he saw a window. It was going to hurt, but that was it. Afro grinned as he held the pack against his chest. "Ok Reeza, let's blow this joint."
He threw himself through the glass, he felt the shards cut him, tearing both skin and muscle. He hit the ground and ran, ran until his legs burned, every inch of his flesh screamed in pain. He finally collapsed in an old motel. He was a bloody mess, everything ached, blackness overtook him. The first human being he ever felt a connection to was gone. Completely and totally gone, and he was responsible. Afro prayed he was cut enough just to bleed out on the floor. He could feel a heavy footstep across the way, a large man stepped in. He had tribal tattoos running from his forearms all the way to his chest. A series of spraycans hung from his waist, he ran over to Afro and knelt down.
"You be from Haven eh?" His voice was softer then someone his side should convey, but for a moment Afro felt relieved. "It's ok mon, I be like you. I'm the ghost." The Ghost? The spray artist, Afro saw on each trip to work. He tried muttering something before blackness finally overtook him. The Ghost picked up the bloody mess known as Afro and moved him to a small cot in his studio.
Meanwhile on the train, Afro ran a finger along one of the scars cleverly worked into the tattoo art that now adorned him, the ghost passing along his craft to the next legend. Now it's time Afro did the same.