Hello there fellow readers! It's been awhile since I've written anything. I'm sorry about that. Real life has had me very busy. Needless to say, Rent has been on my mind after watching it. I watched it a few times when I was younger. But now that I have it again, it's turned into my favorite movie!
Anyways, this story is about what would happen if Mark got injured in the riot scene in Rent the movie. Anyone ever wonder if it ever could happen? I have! Well, enough of my babbling. Enjoy the story!
Let's Start a Riot
*Mark's POV*
Today was the day, the day or Maureen's protest. I had to go and help set up the sound equipment, not without some teasing from Collins, Roger, and Angel. Meeting Joanne was more or less awkward but was quickly averted, albeit with a bump on the head that made me feel oddly refreshed. I then had to go to Life Support with the others and then back to the scene of the protest. So, needless to say, I was very busy. I let Roger do his own thing while I got everything ready. People started filing in. After about an hour or so, the place was packed. Go figure, a person like Maureen could draw hundreds of people like flies to honey. After finding the others in a small group, I jumped from the stage and joined them.
We all cheered and clapped when Maureen appeared on a motorcycle and a helmet. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, not joking. After she got on stage was when I started to film. Not only was it engaging, it was also very entertaining. Maureen could surely give a performance and still not give a damn about making a fool out of herself. I had no idea why she had everyone shouting "Moo!" But people started getting into it. But shortly after that was when everything went straight to hell. The police, which very obviously on standby since we all saw them on the edge of the crowd to begin with, started coming up and causing a scene. It was a complete opposite of what should happen. The police should be the ones stopping the violence, not starting it. They started hitting people and that's when they started fighting back. And that's when I got it all on film, the performance, the riot, everything. The crowd started to move and I had little else but to fight my way through it. I was tossed and shoved and kicked and punched for people trying to get out of there. But what I wasn't expecting was Benny belting me across the face hard enough for me to land on the ground, glasses askew so I couldn't see. The crowd paid either of us little heed.
"What the hell Benny?" I asked him, glaring up at his blurry form.
"You should have taken my offer." Benny said sneering at me. He kicked me when I tried to get up, sending me back to the ground, groaning. Benny put a foot on my chest and tried to take my camera. He was the one who put the cops on standby. In his mind, he couldn't be caught being the one causing this. I hugged my camera close. Which only Benny even more irritated and angry with me.
"Give me the damn camera!" he snarled at me.
"No." I said, managing not to make it sound like a whimper. He picked me up and threw me across the room, I didn't have my glasses and I couldn't throw a punch to save my life. I was in trouble. I cried out as I hit the ground. I then heard his loud footsteps and he slammed me into the wall. I was thrown that far? He punched me in the stomach, causing me to lose my breath and hunch over. He then grabbed me by the hair and punched me hard enough to slam against the wall and to the floor. He then proceeded to punch and kick me constantly. I don't know how long it lasted, I just wanted him and the pain to stop. He took my camera from my weak grip and grabbed me by the throat and slammed my head into the wall, making me whimper.
"You're so stupid Cohen. Why try saving your evidence when you can't even save yourself?" he asked, sneering at me. He let me go roughly and stalked off with my camera. I laid there for a good while. I'm not sure how I was able to get up, but I did. I crawled along the floor, searching for my glasses. After finding them, I put them on shakily. I stared at my hands; they were cut up and bruised. Being slammed around like that, I wasn't very surprised. But the rest of my body felt like I got ran over...twice. My head, neck, stomach, ribs and shoulders hurt. So basically almost everywhere was painful. How was I going to explain this to everyone? I didn't want them up in arms and getting either the same treatment I did or someone going after them and making them miserable. I resigned myself to not go to the Life Café and straight home. Better to be caught in a place where I felt safe then a place where I felt I wasn't.
I stumbled and limped all the way back to the loft apartment when my best friend and I, Roger were renting. I struggled to open the door, being my hands were barely usable at the moment. But I did, which was a small victory for me. I fell rather then sat down and tried to quell the pain all over my body. I couldn't afford going to the hospital. Roger and I were both broke. I moaned softly as I tried to move, my ribs not really liking the idea. How was this going to go over with Roger? Not well, he already knew that? He often got explosive when I got injured. Since I couldn't rightly defend myself, he often got angry. Not at me, but at anyone who would target me at all. I resigned myself that if I could hide it, not likely, I might as well do it while standing. I struggled to my feet and was half way to the kitchen when I heard footsteps. Angry ones, uh-oh.
Roger came in, not really happy. Well, I had promised I would be at the Life Café. But that was before I got the shit kicked out of me and I felt like I had been run over, like I said, twice. I heard the loud footsteps stop and resisted the urge to turn and look at Roger.
"Where the hell were you Mark?" he asked. I made a point to make some coffee to keep me busy.
"I got lost in the crowd, sorry." I said, my voice sounded like I was an old man. I sounded that bad?!
"Then why not meet us after the crowd thins? You missed a great time. You promised!" Roger said, yelling out the last part, making me jump. I had a cup of coffee in my hands to give my body something to do. I heard the angry footsteps come towards me hurriedly and braced myself.
"God damn it Mark! Do you have to be so selfish all the time?!" he asked, shoving me. The coffee spilled over my hands, making me cry out when they hit all the cuts and bruises. I dropped the cup as well, causing it to shatter. I heard Roger sigh, still not looking at him. I'd imagine he was running his fingers through his hair right now.
"I'm sorry Mark, that was out of line." He said, reaching for my shoulder. I flinched away.
"What the hell's gotten into Mark?" he asked. I shook my head, heading for my room.
"Damn it Mark Cohen! Talk to me!" he shouted at me, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. He froze, seeing my face and released my arm like I burned him. His stunned silence scared me.
"R-Roger?" I asked, stammering. Roger came forward, slowly, with a look of concern I don't normally see on his face. He takes off my scarf and I let him. I didn't have the strength now that he saw. He saw the bruises and his face darkened.
"Roger..." I said, but Roger cut me off.
"What else Mark, show me what else." He said, now looking at my hands, my bruised and bloodied hands. I sighed and carefully lifted up my shirt, revealing the darkening bruises. I then decided to take my whole shirt off the show him my shoulders. Roger had gone pale at my injuries, but still held that fierce glare. I put the shirt carefully back on. Not carefully enough, I moved the wrong way and my vision whitened out. I swayed on my feet and Roger rushed forward to catch me. I was placed on the couch then I could hear Roger rushing about the house. He came back with an ice pack, a first aid kit, a cold cloth and a few extra blankets.
He put the ice packs on my hands, making me hiss. After making my hands numb enough, he cleaned it out as best he could and bandaged my hands. He gave me some aspirin for my head and was the only thing for pain. I dry swallowed it as Roger placed the blankets around me. I tried moving, but hissed in pain. Roger became eye level with me, looking at me with a stern gaze.
"Stop moving around." He said softly. Then he asked the question I didn't want to answer.
"Your camera Mark, where is it?" Roger asked. Sometimes I really do hate my luck.
Dun Dun Dun! I'm thinking of making this into a story. But I don't know yet. I never liked Benny in the movie. He just seemed uncaring and snobby to me and I hate that. If I offended anyone by saying that, I'm sorry. Give me ideas, advice, and reviews. Please tell me how I did, honesty is the best policy, haha!
And obviously this is AU, or slightly, seeing as Mark never made it to the Life Café or that he actually did get hurt.
