Chapter Text
Cool air brushed against Clancy’s skin. He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever breathed in something that felt so good in his lungs.
The valley he found himself in was gorgeous, a shade of green Clancy couldn’t recall ever seeing before. How was it that this was hidden away from all the other citizens of Dema? Most of them didn’t even know this was all here, and all that kept them apart from it was a towering wall they could get past if they really tried.
As expected, being free felt better than anything, but even as Clancy breathed in the air that didn’t smell like smoke, he had to admit that there was something terrifying about it all.
He didn’t want to be in the clutches of any of the Bishops, as if they knew who he was, but there was something almost crippling about not having someone telling you what to do, where to be, what to say.
It was scary, being alone. He would have had others with him, but he had been the only one to escape, which made this all the worse.
But it was all for the best, he assumed. There had to be other people out here in Trench, there had to be others who escaped Dema.
Clancy stumbled slightly when his step landed in uneven rocks, and he steadied himself, his boots splashing in the shallow river he had wandered into. Surrounded on both sides by large cliffs, Clancy couldn’t help but stare at everything the world had to offer, taking in every rock he could, trying to preserve this sight in his memory. It felt enclosed, with the cliffs like that, but it was still better than the feeling the City gave him, and everything was so beautiful in comparison.
Clancy spun in a slow circle, taking in a deep breath of the air that tasted so good, rubbing the side of his finger on his nose, feeling the cut there that he had gotten while escaping.
He felt proud of it. It would be the one scar he could face in the mirror, he assumed, he had yet to come across a mirror since escaping, it was a reminder of how he had made it out with hardly any injuries, a reminder of how he was here and present and no longer in the City.
He picked up his pace, his strides lengthening as he followed the river, hoping it would lead him somewhere.
Something caught his eye while he looked up at the tops of the cliffs, something moving, large. Was it someone coming to take him back to Dema? How had he been caught this fast?
He continued to look up as he walked, his worry melting into curiosity that bloomed in his chest when he realized it wasn’t who he was expecting. Several people, all dressed in outfits similar to his. Greens and camo and yellow tape.
His heart swelled, his breath nearly catching in his throat as he watched more and more of them appear, now surrounding him. The others had been right, the Banditos were real, and now he would be one of them.
The sound of a horse galloping reached his ears then, water splashing under its hooves, thunderous and loud. His heart sank, his body aching with the pressure of anxiety, hopelessness. He really had been caught fast. No one else except for the Bishops had horses, he was in trouble.
Clancy turned to look behind him quickly, the breath stolen from his lungs when he saw the white horse, mounted by someone in red. He was in so much trouble.
Clancy wished he could turn and bolt, but his legs wouldn’t move, forcing him to face the Bishop and his horse as they barreled towards him.
He shut his eyes, resigning to his fate as the horse drew nearer, half expecting it to run right into him and trample him to death, but its hoofbeats slowed, then stopped, breathing heavily in the quiet.
The Bishop dismounted with a splash, and sooner than Clancy would have liked, he was right in front of him. Clancy could sense him, even with his eyes closed, he darkened the air and made it hurt and burn in Clancy’s lungs.
Clancy’s breath squeezed in his chest, but he forced himself to keep breathing. His breath stuttered even further when he felt the Bishop’s hands on his neck, pulling down and off, and then he was sinking. Falling, plummeting. The ground was taunting him.
He wanted to scream and cry and collapse and never wake up again. His body started walking without him, following after the Bishop on his horse, stumbling over rocks.
He felt like he sank deeper with each step he took, why wasn’t the ground swallowing him whole?, slowly coming to the realization that he didn’t deserve freedom. He should have stayed in Dema, where he belonged. A gray city, containing him like a bird in a cage, a dog in a dog pound, where it was safe.
His eyes dropped to the ground, his body past the feeling of numbness, almost like he was frozen in his own skin, his sight landing on three yellow flowers. He loved the color yellow, it reminded him of the sun, whispering stay alive, stay alive, stay alive.
He looked back up, his gaze finding the large number of Banditos that all looked down at him, unmoving. They stood, lining along the edge of the cliffs, watching him walk away. They didn’t want him, he told himself.
Until one, wearing a yellow bandana, tossed a handful of something off the edge of the cliff.
The others followed, and soon yellow petals were raining over Clancy, a shout to stay alive, stay alive, stay alive. He couldn’t do that if he was in the city. The Banditos wanted him to stay alive, the Banditos wanted him .
Clancy felt his mind clearing, the desperate urge to lose his freedom fading, and he realized how dumb he had been. He had heard about Smearing, how could he let it happen to himself?
Clancy could feel the Bishop growing tense, and he turned and sprinted, a shriek bubbling out of his chest, his body buzzing with feeling.
He could feel the Banditos looking down at him, petals still drifting down from the heavens, the Bishop spurring his horse to chase him down.
Clancy knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long, but he could give it his best shot. His lungs burned and expanded, he wished he had run more before this, it probably would have at least delayed the inevitable.
He misstepped, his foot landing awkwardly in a divot in the ground, his ankle rolled and he plummeted.