This is the result of an interesting proposal and some workable rules to explore within, plus some time I should have been spending on commerce homework instead. Perhaps not what was expected - but I'd love your feedback, as always. It's certainly a departure for me in terms of writing style and content. Virtually no dialogue! And yes, very, very AU. I just think it's plausible.
I wrote an epilogue of sorts that is a bittersweet redemption for a certain character - if you're interested in reading it, let me know. It's only about 60 extra words. Because honestly, based on my previous writing history, how could I not write a redemption option? Assuages my guilt.
One final warning for dark violence, though not explicit. Thanks for reading!
E
When they arrive at the warehouse, Happy wonders. When they leave the prospects, Happy suspects. When he disappears with no explanation, Happy prepares. When he can't meet his eyes, Happy knows.
The house is quiet and dark, save for pulsing blue lights from a computer tower and the green ring of an Xbox. Happy sits, basking in the solitude, waiting for confrontation. There is a truth he doesn't want to hear, but it's a truth that he already knows. He will deny it a thousand times over but there will be no denial when Happy finally looks in his eyes and holds that gaze he's been avoiding for two weeks.
Happy hears the scrape and groan of a metal steed being parked for the night. Heavy boots tramp up the stairs.
Once upon a time, a hangaround joked that Happy and Juice were twins. Hispanic, bald-headed (for the most part), and muscular. Twins. Juice had laughed, until he saw Happy's expression. Happy knew that night that they were nothing alike. He knew now that they were entirely different species. Happy had never known cowardice nor betrayal, unless he was punishing it. And Juice deserved punishment.
This will be the last time Juice sees his possessions and steps foot in this house.
…
A black mouth greets them, beckoning widely like a hungry crow about to undo a belt buckle. Juice's eyes widen to match. Happy feels a twinge of respect when the young man doesn't struggle against his grasp or try to scream through the cloth silence. Be the man you know you aren't.
The cave is everything Juice fears most. Happy knows he's claustrophobic. Wet, plopping noises from unseen corners echo louder and louder the deeper they travel into the heart of darkness. The dripping will be maddening with Juice's OCD when the last of the medication he took today wears off in a couple hours. Here, where a laptop is but a figment of flimsy human imagination and the nearest man-made structure is the late Piney's cabin, they are alone. And Juice doesn't like alone. When Happy leaves him today, Juice will be alone forever, with only the voices in his head to speak to him.
Happy sets down the box he's been carrying. The noises coming from inside protest loudly. With the muzzle of his Ruger – the only thing in his life that has a twin, safely nestled in the other holster under his cut – Happy directs him to a section of cave wall. A thick metal ring protrudes from the damp rock, jagged around the site of the intrusion. Someone drilled here and embedded the piece of steel recently. Juice doesn't need to ask who.
Almost tenderly, Happy marries Juice's wrists to the metal ring. Juice will never know where Happy learned to tie complex mariner's knots or how he discovered that amsteel rope is impossible to escape from and leaves nasty fibrous slivers behind when struggled against. Only when Happy is certain that Juice won't be leaving, he removes the gag that he's had on Juice since he abducted him from his rented house.
Juice blinks. He gently moves his jaw again, urging blood to flow back to bruised lips. They are silent together. Happy uncaps a bottle of water and tips it towards Juice's lips – he flinches away at first, but Happy says gruffly "drink" and begins to pour, regardless of whether Juice chooses to swallow or not.
Happy wonders if the feeling he has for the split second before kicking the noisy box open is doubt. Regardless of what it is, he tips the top flap with a steel-toed boot and steps back as black, ugly, desperate rats scramble out. Juice makes noise now, a whimpering, and Happy ignores it. He speaks perhaps the longest string of words he ever has to Juice.
"Punishment should always fit the crime. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth." Happy locks eyes with Juice, sees the truth he has known was there all along, and speaks the words he doesn't say aloud. A rat death for a rat.
His time here is almost done. Flicking open a small switchblade, Happy steps towards Juice. He steadies his struggling by grabbing him by the chin, still damp from the bottled water. In the bare light of the cave, the stainless greedily eats up the brightness and reflects it out, glinting as it drags across Juice's cheek. Thick, traitorous blood.
For now, the rats are cowards. Their beady little eyes peer out at the interaction between two men - they see the bad man and the weak man. The man who put them in a box and the man who drips red. Tomorrow, when they grow hungry and curious at the drying scent of blood and sweat, they will travel closer. Juice will kick them away and they will scurry. He will scream and no one will hear save for the rats. In several days' time, even cowards will become brave.
In a month, Happy will return. He will look only long enough to see the white bones scarred by tiny teeth marks. He will leave them there as a final resting place – even he knows not to disturb the dead. He will stand in front in of a mirror that night and stare at his reflection. The tattoo gun in his hands won't put something beautiful on his body.
His brothers will never know what all of the tattoos on his body stand for. All they need to know is what Happy stands for.
I live. I die. I kill.
For my family.