Prompt: Andromeda Dane
Andromeda watched the sun lower behind the brick wall that encircled the schoolyard and the constellations slowly peer out of the black night. The hard monkey bars pressed against his butt and thighs, a heavy, real weight. He longed for a cigarette, but his pack was in Cancer’s car.
He touched the gun on his belt briefly; it was right above the pocket where he usually kept his cigarettes. The 9 millimeter handgun was licensed, or at least that was what he had been told, but Gemini had been known to tell tall tales. Andromeda figured that it really did not matter. It would do the job, licensed or not.
He slid from the bars, swinging easily. He swallowed, remembering the clumsiness of his younger brother, happily dismounting the same bars. The memory seemed like it had occurred a thousand years before, almost as though Pisces had never existed. Andromeda touched the gun again, checking that it was there.
He walked off of the playground, hands clenched into fists. He was going to meet up with Orion later and they were going to avenge his brother. He was going to burn his name into the flesh of the man who stole his brother away. He could just imagine making his mark on the man's skin - twelve stars. He could almost see it in front of his eyes, the bright contrast of red and white flesh – Andromeda Dane.