“Jacob’s titan,” Rico remembered. “You never came into the labs.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, the titan nodded. “Labs are cramped,” he said. Pausing, the big man muttered. “Also: not the most pleasant of memories. What little we have anyway.”

The young man rotated his right elbow, wincing at the pain. Then — wait. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting you out,” his apparent saviour replied easily. He placed a hand in the middle of Rico’s back, propelling him towards the exit.

“Simon sent you?” It seemed the only explanation.

Mr. Big had a coughing fit. Finally: “Definitely his idea.”


Previous – Unintentional Injuries

Next – Hand Off


About azhwi

An editing student, graduated Feb 2012. An avid fan of video games, fanfiction, anime, writing, and the serial comma.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Man-Made Wings, Post-Trauma, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s