The Revenge of Seven: HIDDEN POV's

3

Six's POV

(From Book)

The place does sort of remind me of the off-the-grid spots I used to hit up when I was alone and on the run, places where the tight-knit and gritty locals made it easy to spot out-of-place Mogs. Even so, as I notice a scrawny middle-aged guy with a mullet and a tank top staring at us, chain-smoking in the shadows of the porch, I wonder if we should find a safer place to poke our heads in.
But Nine is already halfway up the creaky wooden steps, Marina right behind him, and so I go along. Hopefully this place has a phone so we can at least get in touch with the others back in Chicago. Check to see how John and Ella are doing--hopefully better, somehow, especially now that we know the cure-all that Five claimed to have in his Chest was a bunch of crap. We have to warn the others about him. Who knows what information he might've been feeding to the Mogadorians.
When we push through the swinging saloon doors of Trapper's, the music doesn't screech to a stop like in the movies, but everyone on the bar does turn their heads to stare at us, almost in unison. The place is cramped, not much to it besides the bar, a pool table and some beat-up lawn furniture. It stinks of sweat, kerosene and alcohol. Then I realise that Marina and I are the only women here. Shit.
"Hoo boy," someone says, then whistles loudly.

Nine's POV

I hear the creep whistle at Marina. I turn around too late. Marina already has it under control. She's twisted his arm behind his back.
"Do not come near me." She says, sounding pretty scary even to ME. I smirk and turn back to the bar counter. Looks like I don't need to worry about Marina. And Six . . . well, Six is trying to look intimidating and I must say, she's doing a good job.
I ask the bartender if he's got anything to feed us.
"I could fry you up some burgers." He offers.
"It's not possum meat or something, is it?" I hold up my hands. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Three of your finest, my man."

"You got a phone?" Six ask the bartender.

He points to a payphone hanging from the wall. "You could try that. It works part of the time." 

"Looks like everything here only works part of the time." I mutter, glancing at the TV mounted above the bar. The reception is bad at the moment, a news report swallowed up by static, thecrooked rabbit ears emerging from the set not doing their job. As the bartender disappears into the kitchen, Marina sits down with a couple of stools bufferingherself from me. She avoids eye contact, engrossed by the popping static on the TV.

"I'm going to try calling Chicago." Six says. 

I drum my fingers on the counter to ease my boredom. Why won't one of these bastards fight me?

That's when I see that Marina has got rigid. Her face expressionless. I follow her gaze and immediately, my heart stops. It's a live news report of a giant building engulfed in flames. But not just any building. It's the John Hancock Center. My home. OUR home. My brain won't function. I can't speak. All I can do is stare.

"Nine . . ." Six's voice breaks my trance. 

I don't want her comfort. So, because I don't know what else to do, I spin around and head for the door. One guy doesn't see me coming and gets knocked to the floor.
I don't care.
Once I'm outside, I continue walking, across the gravel lot.
"Where are you going?" Six demands.
"Chicago," I answer bluntly.
"You're going to walk to Chicago?" She questions.
"You're right. I'll steal a car. You guys coming or what?"
When Six uses her telekinesis to hold me in place, I struggle against it.
"Let me go, Six," I growl, my nails digging into my palms. "Let me go right now."
She stops in front of me but doesn't loosen her telekinetic hold. "Stop and think for a second." She says, sounding like she's giving a lecture.

I force myself to listen what she has to say.

"They wouldn't be in Chicago anymore. They'd run. That's what we'd do. And we know john is still alive or we'd have another scar. He's got the tablet; he's got his Chest. They've got a better chance of finding us than we have of finding them."

"Uh, last time I saw John he was comatose. He's not up for finding anyone." I argue.

"An exploding building tends to wake a person up. He got out."

I consider her words. Makes sense to me. "Alright, alright, let me go." Six releases me from her telikinetic grip and I immediatly turn away from her, my eyes starting to water. I peer down the dark gravel road. Everything feels so hopeless right now. A voice speaks in my mind. A voice I'm not familiar with.

When you have lost hope, you have lost everything.

"I feel like we're screwed, Six. Like we already lost and no one's got around to telling us."

Six walks closer to me and places a hand on my shoulder. "Bullshit," Six says casually. "We don't lose."

"Tell that to Eight." I say, fighting the tears that I know are coming.

"Nine, come on-" 

I turn back around to face Six. I realize Six is trying to convince herself as much as me, that everything is going to be alright.

I let out a shaky breath and run my hands through my hair. I wipe my eyes with my fists and drop them back to my sides. We're alone in this war. What hope do we have? We've lost Eight. The one who was always faithful and hopeful. Always there to cheer us up. Now he's gone. Because of me.

What hope do we have??

"It's my fault too." I say, trying to look stoic. "I got him killed."

"That's not true." Six says firmly but I don't believe her.

"It is." I insist in a cold tone. "Five kicked my ass and I couldn't help myself. Had to keep talking, had to show him. It should've been me. You know it; I know it; Marina damn sure knows it."

Six takes her hand off my shoulder and  punches me in the jaw. "Ow! Damn it!" I shout, staggering away from Six and nearly loosing my footing in the gravel.  "What the hell?" I say, wondering if Six has been possessed by Setrakus Ra.

"Is that what you want?" Six says, stepping towards me, her fists clenched and ready. "Want me to kick your ass a little bit? Punish you for what happened to Eight?"

I hold my hands up in surrender. "Cut it out, Six."

"It wasn't your fault." Six tells me evenly. She jabs me in the chest with her fingers. "Five killed Eight, not you. And the Mogadorians are to blame. Got it?"

I slump my shoulders and stare at the ground. "Yeah, I got it." I reply. Although I sort of blame 
Five for Eights' death, something inside me knows it's my fault. No matter what Six tells me, I believe that I will always feel that way, punch-in-the-face or not.

"Good." Six says, laying off me a bit. "Enough with this mopey crap. We need to figure out what were doing next."

"I've already figured that out." Marina says.