#fateswapdisk2.exe

((*Puts leg up on chair.* So I heard you lads like Fateswap.))

The long way.

You could have easily taken a plane straight to Cairo; but for some reason you hesitated. Sure, you can blame it on the old man’s luck- or lack of- when it comes to planes, but it was quite clear that you weren’t up for this.

Had there been some aggression, some disdain there for your family, you’d charge right in and show the bastard what for. But no. It was all chance.

Both sides lost the game of chance and now your sweet mother was dying and you have to kill a man who meant no harm.

A death sentence for manslaughter; or you guess it’s not manslaughter yet. Your mom’s still alive. But it could become just that, if this matter isn’t solved.

It’s worse that every now and again on this journey a person steps forward; pleading. You shake your head. You can’t bear to look at them. You cover your face with your hat and let the old man do the talking.

“We’ll settle this nonviolently, if we can. I’m sorry that for us to save a loved one that you must lose a loved one.”

They always leave, crying. Somehow you think they know that in his heart that man’s accepted his fate. That he knows this is some sort of fucked up balance. Kill one, be killed for one, eh?

Sometimes, while you’d hate to admit it to anyone, you lie down wherever the old man’s settled this group, and cry. Whenever you do, against your command, a yellow and lime arm settles itself on your shoulder.

“Everyone has their time. The sun had set, and the moon rose. Once more, the sun shall rise. Thus is fated.”

You don’t know what the fuck that means, or why a manifestation of your fighting spirit would spout such poetic bullshit, but for some reason it comforts you every time.

You always feel yourself slipping off, your head echoes one phrase; you don’t know if your own or the star’s...