Title: Death in the Family
Author: RedK_addict
Rating: T
Genre: Drama/Tragedy
Summary: Spot finds something he never wanted to see again in his life. He wonders why he's always the one to find it.
Author's Note: So, since Blink so blatantly gave away this little piece of plot in What I Won't Do, I figured it was okay to post this early. I mean, honestly, we all know it's coming, right? This story takes place between chapters fourteen and fifteen of Carryin' the Banner (which are not written yet, so if you are slightly lost, that's okay). Once again, I am still stuck with writer's block and didn't want to just leave my little universe alone. This started as a first-person POV, but it ended up being too short so I added the third-person stuff in between each paragraph. I thought it was a nice touch. Beware of mentioned brutality and lots of blood ahead. Also, this fic was ever so slightly inspired by Hob's death scene in Robocop 2. Please don't ask me how, since I'm not entirely sure.
I want so badly to scream. I can't. My throat's too dry. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm not. I think I'm gonna be sick. Dear God, please don't let me be too late. Please. So much blood…
He taps his cane against the brick wall of the alley, afraid to approach the body. Afraid of what he'll find. He's done this too many times. Briefly, he wonders why it always has to be him. Why he always has to be the one to find his friends beaten and bloody in some hellish alley in the middle of the night…
I can't… I can't do this anymore. I just can't. Hang it all. I hear laughter. Somewhere in the distance. I can't tell just yet if it's real or if it's in my head. But all the same, I know who's responsible. I know he did it, the bastard. He's had it in for us since this whole thing started. Since that first night…
A face comes to his mind. Freakish, pasty pale, with a twisted smile the color of fresh blood…
First Race and now Blink. I know I'm next. Shoot, I know I'm next. Gotta be. I'm the only one left. Funny thing is, I shoulda been next a long time ago. Blink's had it in twice now. So's Race. It's stackin' up against me. I can just feel it.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches out a hand to feel the battered neck. Nothing.
His pulse is gone. Blink. Jason. Why?
He clutches the ragged, torn flesh to himself. Desperate. Willing it to live. It doesn't. His eyes wander the length of the dark alley, coming to rest on what was obviously the weapon of choice…
The crowbar on the ground. So much blood. His uniform – my uniform – covered in it. It's on my hands, covering his face. I shoulda been here to stop it. Hell, Race shouldn't have run him out of the house like he did. Always thinking about himself. Never thinking of anyone else.
Idiot Italian. He knows they'd had a fight. He knows why his friend was wandering the streets on his own so late at night, when they all three knew that the killer was out hunting them.
And yet I can't be angry at him. This is as much my fault as it is his. I shouldn't have left him alone. I knew he was in danger, but I let him go anyway. No point in placing blame all over. It's too late now.
Too late. If only he'd gotten here sooner. He can't help but wonder, if only…
I'm too late.
Twice they'd managed to save him. Twice they'd managed to bring him back from the brink. Only to wind up…
Dead.
Dead.
Even if, by some miracle, Race wanted in on this, there's no way Jack'll let him now. I'll be lucky if he lets me go through with my plan to move out. Knowing him, he'll think this was all his fault for bringing us out here in the first place.
Jack will blame himself. Race will blame himself. Spot already blames himself. But they all know the truth.
But it's not. If anything, it's Blink's own fault for drawing that kind of attention to himself. Harsh as it sounds, it's the truth. If he hadn't gone out that first night…
That first night. Sneaking out on his own. A gunshot in the dark. Chasing the would-be killer into a dark alley not unlike this one. A flash of light that would have left him completely blind.
If he hadn't gone out that first night, none of this would've happened. The hospital. The surgery. The deal. The training. The gambling ring. Selina. Rhino. Demon. Angel.
Everything spiraled out of control after that first night. They'd come so far since then. And then things got bad. Things got real bad.
The kidnapping. The gun. The rope. The yelling and the screaming at each other afterward.
Blink and Race were best friends. But they were at each other's throats that night. It was all Spot could do to keep them from killing each other. He wonders now if maybe he shouldn't have interfered for once.
The crowbar.
It lies there, taunting him. "I killed him," it screams in his head. Covered in his blood.
The laughter that I'm sure by now can't just be in my head.
Maniacal cackling, piercing the night. The man who held it. The monster responsible.
It all goes back to that one night. And now it's come around to bite us all.
If only he could go back. If only he could redo it all…
And I'm next. I swear, I'm gonna be next…