The rescuer was the classic story book hero in height and build, but for what he had in muscle he apparently lacked in brain. He had never spoken more than one syllable at a time, he grunted, never socialized, just tended the cyborg beasts shovelling their excrement. He stank and were it not for his colossal size he would have been one of he faceless invisible nobodies in the slave barracks. As it was everyone just called him The Tank and stepped aside when he needed to pass. The electricians were bothered by him, whenever they turned from a beast's electro-neuro interface he was there at their shoulder, watching with those stupid eyes, not a grain of comprehension on his stony face. Then he would grunt and go back to his task. So the day a new mother was released into the arena to gore the runaways and instead stopped sharply on smelling them and turned to massacre the armed guard instead, no-one even looked his way. He was the most invisible person there. The smartest person there.
Leo swims in the tranquil turquoise, air bubbles rising to the surface in their clustered way. With knife in hand he gouges at the rock face to take a sample, his container ready in his pocket. When he turns to go he gets a pleasant surprise, a dolphin. He smiles and reaches out a hand before noticing that the creature isn't swimming right. Its fins are caught in netting, he's come for help. Leo approaches slowly so as not to scare him and begins to cut the tough nylon. He feels his insides start to boil, this stuff as no business being in the ocean. The dolphin moves away several times and returns again, in a few more moments the net falls away and the dolphin clicks before heading up the surface. Leo wants to laugh, cry and rage at the world all in one moment. It was only by chance he was there this time, what about all the other times a few cents worth of netting is allowed to float away?
I'm just about to explode when my sister comes in with her usual big smile and a "What up lil' bro?" She casts a look from me to Mom, who's in the corner of the room beet red with hands stuck firmly on her hips, steam almost flying from her ears. Sally doesn't need to be told I screwed up again, she can read the situation faster than a one word note. And this one just says "Scram." I expect her to go, now that she's moved out of home she doesn't need to put up with the tension anymore, but she doesn't.
"I'm gonna take Tyler out for dinner. Alright Mom?"
Mom explodes, "Right. Yes. Get him out of my sight. Out!"
"He's gonna sleep over, see'ya. Love'ya." The door slams behind us and we're off to her beat up Ford Fiesta with the scummy seats. We don't say anything. She turns the radio up real loud and we head off, stopping at the pizza parlour for a large pepperoni. Next stop is the beach. She pulls a rug from the trunk and we just sit as close as we dare to the waves.