Flashback

The slam of the dagger silenced Cynical. Love was talking, Cynical could see his mouth moving but the words were muffled; absorbed by the onslaught of memories Cynical found himself drowning in. That dagger, his third favorite dagger, had made that exact same sound when Greed had found him.

It was the annual Blood Games. Cynical had sat across the ring from Love, his fingers tapping away on the curled wood of the chair as he watched Depression face off against Pride. Depression may have been tiny but he was persistent. Pride was scrabbling in the dirt as Depression scratched his skin to shreds with his fingernails. The scream had gone unnoticed at first. Everyone assumed it was a roar of victory from Depression or a yell of pain from Pride but they were not the source. The crowd parted as a familiar face entered the room. Cynical froze. He shifted his gaze between his clenched fists and the newcomer’s face. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t even supposed to be alive.

“Oh little broooottthhheeerrr,” the man sing-songed . “I need to talk to you.” His face twisted into a snarl as he plowed his way through the crowd, stopping at the base of the tower upon which Cynical sat. Cynical gulped, his hand trembling as he rose from his seat. He slid down the outer pole of the tower before coming to a stop directly in front of his brother.

“James. What are you doing here?” Cynical deadpanned. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to hide their shaking.

“It’s Greed now actually. Your reputation precedes you brother. All this power you have gained from stabbing little ol’ me.” Greed stared down at his brother, his eyes blazing.

“So, you’re an empath as well. And on my side.”

“I am on NOBODY’S SIDE!” Greed lunged at Cynical but was quickly subdued by the surrounding crowd. Cynical crouched down in front of his brother, putting an end to his struggling with a tap on the forehead. Greed was being held down by four of Cynical’s men, his head the only portion he could move, so he lifted it up, glaring at Cynical.

“James...Greed, I am sorry I had to do that to you but I needed to become something tougher, something darker. So why, after all this time would you come onto my turf and threaten me?” Cynical was calm, he had all the power here; or so he thought. The men holding Greed down were suddenly thrown back by a wave of power, and Cynical found himself on his back with his big brother on top of him, crushing his chest. Everyone in the room froze as Greed pulled a dagger from his boot and held it against Cynical’s throat; a stinging pain making him gasp as blood trickled down his neck.

“Now you listen to me little brother. I came to make sure that you knew I was alive, that you had failed. As much as I want to take all that you have by slicing open your throat, I won’t.” Greed removed the dagger from Cynical’s neck and in one swift motion slammed it into the ground next to his brother’s head with a loud thud. “You can keep your power,” snarked Greed. “But understand that the next time I see you I won’t hold back.” Greed rose from his position above Cynical before strutting out the way he came in. Depression appeared at Cynical’s side, offering his hand to his leader as the rest of the crowd simply stared in silence. Cynical clasped Depression’s hand, pulling himself up before reaching back down to pull the dagger out of the dirt.

“What do you want us to do about him, sir?” asked Depression. Always the faithful lieutenant. Cynical twirled the dagger into the air before catching it and shoving it into his boot. “Label him as shoot on site,” Cynical replied quietly. “I don’t ever want to see him alive again.” Cynical turned his head towards the ring, his insides queasy as he saw Love staring down at him, a large smirk on his face. Cynical shook his head and was returned to his current situation; Love was still talking. Something about a proposal that just couldn’t wait.