Smoke and Guns (Part 1) - Switz
The sun hung lazily on the horizon, casting a magnificent golden glow to all it touches. The sky that supported the fiery ball of gas had turned a navy shade of blue, much different from the light blue from earlier that day. Somewhere in the distance, cars honked as their drivers expressed their anger. Few people were out and about this late into the evening, which made Cameron lucky.
He panted as his feet rounded another corner, legs screaming in exhaustion.
While his physical body cooperated in perfect unity, both halves of his mind screamed at him. One half scolded him for putting everyone's safety at risk while the other was more concerned of his own. One thing they both agreed upon was how ludicrous attempting such a plan was.
The kiwi turned the corner into a dark alleyway, trying to censor his breath with one of his hands just in case they were still following. After looking over the alley for anyone living there, he leaned back onto the wall and threw his hands on top of his dirty blond hair. His clover colored eyes instinctively scanned the walls while he waited for his breath to return.
Powerlines high above, working to make sure citizens still had electricity in their homes. Colorful graffiti covered the crimson bricks below and many dumpsters from the unrelenting sun. Shamrock trash bins pushed against the wall, granting access to any human to throw their trash in. The paint had dripped onto the grey bricks below, slightly brightening them up. Dull scarlet stones made way for shortcuts for people were in a hurry, like him.
He shoved off the wall and departed. They won't be happy about this one. Cameron reviewed the excuse he would tell the rest of the gang. Ran it repeatedly in his mind. He wanted to stretch his legs, lost track of time, picked up some food, came back. Those were his only worries as he walked towards the home of the Misfits.
Everyone who wasn't part of the gang called it The Slaughterhouse, purely because of rumors. As if they were wealthy enough to afford their own houses and a place to kill people. Cameron silently chuckled to himself. He never really understood why people were so afraid of the six.
The suddenness of the side door to his right bursting open snapped him out of thought. Adrenaline cascaded through his body, mostly into his legs. He almost turned around to sprint away but before he could, "Cam, why the fuck are you out here?" a familiar voice sharply questioned.
Instantly, a smile swiftly crawled up his mouth. He turned around and tilted his head slightly down to see him. It was his trusty bodyguard, Eric. "Cam, why are you out here?" he restated the question wanting some answer. Cameron still didn't answer, staring at him.
Instances of seeing Eric without his helmet were few. Though Cameron was the exception, knowing him for almost a year and him being his personal bodyguard, had allowed him to see the shorter's face more than the rest of the world. Still, it was a pleasant surprise to see it out in public.
"Cameron," voice tense with annoyance and concern, "why are you out here?"
"I just wanted to get some air. What about you, Swags?" Finally came his response. The brown-haired man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. Eric opened his mouth, then quickly shut it as if he was thinking about what to say. "I was looking for you, dumbass. Now I can finally go home."
He turned and meandered, expecting Cameron to follow him back to their home. He blindly followed him. Even though Cameron is about a foot taller than his masked guard and looked all business, he never really had any authority. He was more of a follower, a sheep, than a leader.
They walked in a comfortable silence as the sun slowly winked behind tall buildings settled on the horizon, washing the land beneath with warm red, orange, gold, and pink. Cameron threw his hands into his pockets and study at his companion.
His light brown hair slightly stuck to his forehead, most likely from trying to find his taller employer. Even though he looked and sounded exhausted, Eric took longer strides. Cameron didn't blame him for wanting to go home. He probably skipped dinner, and maybe even lunch, to go looking for his kiwi ass.
"I'm sorry, Swags."
"For what?"
"Makin' you look for me. I shouldn't have wandered off without telling you."
"That's why you're apologizing?" His bodyguard halted and turned around to face him. He huffed, "If you're only sorry for making me look for you, stop. I looked all over this damn place so I could drag your ass back. You should be sorry for making the others worried."
Cameron opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, searching for words to say. He completely forgot about how the rest of the gang care and think of him as a brother. Before he could speak, Eric stole the spotlight.
"Everyone is back at home, worried as fuck about you and where you've been. Mason would go out and try to find you, but I went. I went because I didn't want a little 19-year-old walking around the city, possibly waltzing straight into enemy territory. So, don't apologize to me. Apologize to the rest of them when we get back."
The shorter than turned back towards the street that contained the Misfits home and walked again, leaving their conversation at that. Cameron felt his ears burn at the embarrassment of Eric's light scolding. He followed him, purposely putting a little distance between them.
He understood how Eric worked, how to treat him when he was this pissed. Even though he was angry at Cameron now, with a little distance and a few precisely said words, he would calm down and speak with him again. All he needed was time.
The group broke him out of his thoughts as they pulled him into their home and into a hug from the rest of the inhabitants that lived there. Their words blended together, but he could tell what they were thinking by their tones. Some were angry, they worried some. But all were happy he was back. "Cam, do you want some dinner?" Toby asks, living up to the title of the Mom Friend.
Cameron refused his offer of food, deciding to stick with his alibi. "What were you doing out there exactly? You went out for a while," Matt questioned, genuine concern for his friend lacing his voice. ¨I was just thinking about some stuff." He shrugged. ¨Could you be any vaguer?¨ Jay teased. ¨Nah, mate.¨ Everyone laughed at his comment.
Cameron raised his hands above his head, stretching the aching muscles in his biceps. "Imma go to bed," he yawned and began a journey to his bedroom. He could not lie to his friends for another second.
"Sleep? It's 7 o'clock!"
"You always stay up 'til midnight with us."
"He must be real tired..."
"Fucking loser! You're missing out on some good ass shit, cunt!"
He lightly chuckled at Mason's comment, making it seem as if he'd stay out there with them. But he refused their offers. He lightly closed his door behind him and threw himself onto his bed.
He lay on his bed, hands behind his head, right ankle over his left, staring at the now familiar ceiling. To the untrained eye, Cameron would look relaxed and prepared to sleep, but that was the exact opposite of his racing mind.
He kept remembering the situation he brought upon everyone. It would be perfectly fine he had fucked just himself over, but he now risked the lives of his closest companions. Cameron didn't even realize he had been hyperventilating from the memory alone.
He closed his eyes, the sounds of his friends getting high and having casual conversations heard through thin walls. Unwillingly, the memories flooded back.