(The final votes were in when I read them and announced in Discord the results. Oakie is no longer with us.) It was one hell of a family reunion, no one else could argue it. Being separated from your family for years, only to have them quickly come back into your life because you're kidnapped by a psychotic fish. The whole family was together again. Two beaten up parents, the mother and father with their two kids, one of them a burn withered corpse. As much as the son would have wished for him to be the one that had died, he knew that the past could not be changed, and what has happened is ingrained into eternity. Now, on a quiet fly back to his home sector, the son found himself crying once more on the metal temporary casket of his sister, sealed to prevent the smell of burned cooked flesh from seeping out. It was horrible- to smell the cooked meat of your sister and to have one's mouth water out of natural instinct, even if you know where the smell is coming from. One does not have to be a cannibal to have this natural instinct triggered. It was three long hours of sobbing and broken pondering before the ship arrived over a desert red planet, named after the land where the people came from; a state in the United States on Earth. Oklahoma. This planet was metal rich, making it a popular place for people to come and live. The soil was also fairly rich in minerals, save some organic materials needed to grow which could be transported and shipped to the colony, making good growing grounds. The air was not for oxygen breathing humans, though, in fact depleted from the planet being "dead" and without a magnetic field, letting the distant sun strip away the atmosphere that once surrounded the sphere. Instead, people lived inside glass and metal bubbles that allowed the sun to shine down through U.V tinted panes and shine down onto the crops, making it almost like Old Earth, save the fact we're all living in fish bowls. To help with cooling and living conditions, as well as having a safe place to go in case the dome were to collapse or malfunction, the living spaces were made underground in bunkers, allowing for easy heating or cooling to the family's preferences, as well as easy expansion. The top was reserved for growing, acres of land of corn, wheat, potato- you name it, they grew it. The people whom lived here took transport buses to mining sites where they operate equipment to mine the high metal content planet for it's materials to sell them. However, the family returning to their home did not live off mining, the older woman was a botanist, who kept the crops in good health and helped breed new strains for consumption. Roland, partner to the woman named Jullia, was a farmer who planted and cared for the crops in their dome, a hardworking religious spirit. However, their children were much different, their older son going off for a life of war and fighting, the other going to pursue a life of a EMT for the Galactic Governing Body, to help preserve and save lives; completely opposite of her older brother. However, this never put them against each other, for all four of them knew that their destinies were inscribed in the stars, and there was no way to change them. But now, they return, with one of their own in a casket, to be cremated further and properly. The Reds had lost one of their own, and now found themselves back him... The son could not face his parents, whom would be sitting on the porch and grieving, the mother openly sobbing and the father trying to be the rock and keep his composure, but as the son slipped into the elevator that lead down to the underground home, he could hear the shaky male breathing of the older man who was losing his facade. The son, a black male with a robotic right arm moved down the shaft before coming to a halt and exiting into the living room. He could only be there for so long, and he wanted to look around the home where he spent eighteen long years of his life growing up into the broken degenerate he was now. The son of the family slowly moved through the home, ignoring the granite counter island that separated the living room from the kitchen and heading toward the hall where the bedrooms where. The son's room was long gone, having been converted into a office workspace and entertainment area, passing his door without a second thought, but pausing before his sisters. The male leaned his dark skinned forehead forward, placing his head against the cool metal of the sliding door against the old, faded glue marks that once held up foam letters and flowers that spelled a little girls name... He could still hear her singing behind the door, playing with her dolls, Princess Unicorn Warrior fighting against Spider Villain Ickyface... The imagination and innocence of a child, just behind the door. His hand moved up toward the hand scanning panel, pressing it against it as he thought for a long moment. No. He couldn't do it. Let him keep the memory of his little adorable sister behind that door, the big brother who would smile and listen to the voices she made as she played with her dolls. The black human would move down the hallway again, his mind leaking forth memories of the past as he felt his body grow light. Everything seemed overly bright for some time, as faint yet opaque figures dashed down the hall, a larger black boy with a little sister in tow. He smiled, looking toward the fit lean boy, remembering the dreads he used to rock with those bad ass silver bands holding them together, and the lovely straight black hair of his mother and sister. There were two other figures with faint coloring standing behind the island, a faint voice calling to the two. Breakfast is ready! Get eating so you can help Daddy today! The grown male alone in the house stood there, feeling more water brimming in his eyes. The figures faded, and cut to a new scene: the two of them running away from the stools and toward the elevator pad where the large male figure of a father stood. The son could still remember his father's afro, before he started losing his hair. He slowly moved to the elevator pad, where the two energetic and jumping figures looked up to their father. It was within ten feet when the figures slowly disappeared, leaving him alone on the elevator pad. The son went up the pad, back to the surface where both of his parents were now openly grieving, crying their woes to the air and begging for this all to be a horrible dream. The son knew however that it wasn't, and it was his actions that brought this upon the once peaceful, close knit family. The dome suddenly echoed with the sound of a bell, a low, gentle ring that came from what was designated as East on their world. The loner looked over, seeing a hover truck come through with the name of their local funeral home that helped with cremations. His sister has returned... The services were held, where the family and friend gathered to say prayers and exchange grievances. However, the only one that did not participate in the happenings was the son of the family, the loner whom hung back and away near the elevator shaft of the home on the patio. They had a special thing from the Old Earth... A tree. A oak tree, his name. Oklahoma, it was of family importance, because for centuries it was tradition to bury a Red family member by the roods of a tree, most likely mixed with fertilizer a water at the base of the tree. This right was done, the ashes mixed with said materials in a biodegradable thin green urn before placing it in the ground and covering it at the foot of the oak tree. It was hours later when all of the guests had moved out of the dome, and the two parents moved back into their home, the husband holding his wife up as she weakly walked. Finding his moment of isolation, he moved away from the porch as they passed, not a word exchanged, as if he was a ghost. The son moved toward the tree, slowly kneeling down the freshly tilled dirt where the urn was buried. The man slowly moved down to his knees, placing his hands onto the cool thick grass at the foot of the small grave. All that was heard at the moment was the swaying leaves of the Oak tree from the artificial and cooling wind. The voices of the past slowly creeping into his ears. Big brother, big brother! Push me higher, higher! Big brother! Take me to one of the races, pleeeease? Big brother, I made this for you! Big brother! Big brother...! Big brother... big brother "Hey, little sis." The grown man chocked on his words. Once more, the streaming of tears was coming down his face. He let his heart out, spilling forth their childhood memories, the good times, the trouble they got in together and the way they supported one another. He spoke of his life, in full detail. What he has done, the people he has met, the people he has lost... The people he has killed. More and more, the topics turned toward blaming himself, because in the end this was his fault, it was unavoidable to deny it. It was all his fault, it was all his fault... The past had finally caught up with him, and it was just as cruel of revenge and karma as he expected. When he was done, he reached into the coat interior he wore, slowly pulling out a revolver. He then fishes his right hand into his pocket, fishing out five bullets. Each one slid into the open six chambers of the revolver, leaving one empty. The broken man closed his eyes, closing the cylinder and spinning the chamber, the clicking of the mechanism heard as he spin it for a good while. "This is my fault... Fucking damnit, this is my fault... I fucked up, I fucked everything up, I..." Click, the hammer was pulled back. He didn't peek at the chambers, this was a test of fate, to see if he was still worthy of going on, with the odds of five in six of dying instead. He pressed it firmly against the side of his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, the last tears being barricaded inside of his eyelids as he shouted. "Emma... Sis, Oakie is sorry!" The hammer swung forward, striking the back of the chamber... But did it go off? Did fate give him one last chance? Sadly, I didn't.
