“Look, assholes” Aver’s voice shimmers in the dark, “I can’t dumb this down any further for you.  How many ways can I say ‘I fucked up’ before your quivering ballsacks wrinkle that shit in?”

“That much… is obvious.”  The Tower’s words drifted like a wisp of smoke. “Your lot always have.” Each word is chewed and tasted before he speaks.

The Bridge strikes a match.  Two mounds of muscle and wings flicker orange around a cigarette.  A 5ft shield catches the glow on a high backed chair at the other side of the table.

The Tower breathes out, and the world dims.

“The death of 20 innocents is more than a mistake”

“Finally showing Lucy’s hand?”

“Knew it was too good.”

“Too convenient.”

The Tower and the Bridge take turns breathing.  

“Alright. That’s it. You fucko’s want to chance it at the end without any Armas? Be my fuckin’ guest.  I’m a mercy you fucks don’t deserve.” The air around Aver feels like a cat’s tongue on a baby’s back.

“And that gives you car blanche on humanity?” 

“You can’t just do what you want.”

“We have rules.”

“Rules you know about”

“Let me tell you a story about your rules.

You see there was this new hooker, right? Had a vagina that could make you see God.  A saint’s set of lips and she's there squirting the gospel to men and women alike.  

Her snail trail becomes a road to salvation.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Make your point.”

“What does this have to do with your hero?”

“Why don’t you make my point for me.” beamed Aver. 

Another draw of smoke and light on the cigarette.

“Anyway… Well, the old hoes didn't like that so much. They huddled around their fish boiled shavings and begged, ‘Teach us how to love. Our beds grow cold and our children grow hungry.”

The new hooker's heart gushes for these crones. she asks them ‘How can I help?’ 

They get her to let them examine her pussy. And so these bags of dust bring out tool after tool. Hooks to force open those silk curtains. Large wooden half chewed spoons to jam in all at once. Those old bones are in a frenzy for space, shoving this way and that way in the soup of this girl’s box. 

Scoop after scoop,  they taste the stars.

Scrape after scrape, they chew on the cosmos.

And the hooker is just lying there - happy to help her elders find love.

Satisfied with their work, those grinning half eaten cougars thank the girl and send her on her way.

The next day, the usual clients come to the new hooker. She tries to show them the stars. She tries to show them the cosmos. But there's fucking nothing. Just a husk with pubes for teeth. She could only recede into the fat folds of those bitches’ arms.  To be comforted until the next new piece of ass shows up.”

“Disgusting”

“And what, you’re saying we took everything from your hero?”

“Nah, I just wanted to talk about Bridge’s mom for a bit. Ayooo!” Aver makes quick successive howling sounds to punctuate, “How is she doing, by the way?”

The Bridge flexes a vein on his conglomeration of mass and flesh. The Tower’s hand restricts what could be considered the Bridge’s shoulder.

“So then why did he kill those people?” The Tower attempts to bring the conversation back on the rails.

“Why don't you ask him?  And you know what? You should ask him why he didn't kill more?”

The Tower puts out his cigarette and leans in.

“We’re asking you.”

"They were annoying” Aver panders to the silence. “Bah! If anything, they were collateral damage. I support it.”

“We do not.”

“We never have.”

“If that is your reason, we are done.”

“And so is your hero.”

“Let me get this straight.  He does exactly what you need him to do - Be the thing you need him to be, and you crucify him for faltering?  Like I get my part in this shit show. But you’re asking these kids to stare at the sun and not blink. That’s so fuckin stupid”

“You obscure Truth.”  says the Tower.

“You skewer your mother.”

“Why don’t we start at this ‘fuck up’.”  Says The Bridge.  Aver could hear the Bridge’s smile preen the words out of the smoke. As if he just got the joke.

“I mean.  Look at me.  I’m a fucking shield.” Aver said.

Another orange glow. Crystal bars reflect a slow pulse of sunrise.

The Tower breathes out.  Sunset.

“Fine. From the top.” said an exasperated Tower.  “How did your hero die?”