Washed

Rex woke up to a faint sizzle followed by the scent of seared meat. A sharp pain smothered the rest of his senses. His arms stayed limp regardless of the desperate attempts to stop the burning sensation.

“Oh, he’s awake.” The voice was gruff. “Keep the knife on there, hopefully the bleeding stops,” the voice continued.

Another voice started singing near him. “Burn the skin, burn the skin. Trying to rescue him.”

“That doesn’t rhyme.”

“Reve is harsh. Reve is mean. Reve is nasty. Not like Kano, he’s so crafty.”

“Quiet.”

Something rough and leathery tapped Rex’s cheek.

“Steelbrite.” Another tap on the cheek. “Listen. You’re going to make it.”

Rex’s voice chafed against his throat. “Who are y—”

“We’re nobodies.”

The pain stopped.

“Rest easy, Steelbrite, your life isn’t cheap.”