DISCLAIMER: I do not own Archie Comics, Riverdale, or Bloodborne (from which I take inspiration), I have no intention of profiting off of this in any way, and if you like this story, you should absolutely play Bloodborne, thanks! -Vi
It had been so long since he had experienced the taste of bread, the warmth of meat, the juicy sweetness of an apple. It had seemed like lifetimes since his feet had felt the cool grass, since he could properly recall the blonde of her hair. All he knew was the dripping of water, the stench of the sewers. His head hung low, so low that his spine creaked, he could feel the pressure in every vertebrae.
Distantly he could hear the moaning of the dead, the screams of those who liked to burn whether they be beast or not. He knew it was happening, the Hunt was starting, and yet there he was, hands tied, lips bloodied.
Almost like he had been caught.
Jason Blossom drowned in Sweetwater River the newspapers would read, if they still ran. If anything mattered as the madness gripped Riverdale.
He could hear footsteps.
The desperate creaking of rust gumming up the joint of a blade as it moved.
He raised his head.
I'm sorry, Polly. Cheryl. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
There was a lantern burning over the man's shoulder. It swung gently in a wind that didn't exist. He followed that light with his eyes, skipping a little to the right, skipping a little to the left...there was beauty in the lantern, it made him momentarily forget the pain in his ribs, in his spine. He looked up into the dispassionate eyes of a snake, and in that moment everything flashed before him.
Cheryl sitting in the parlor at Thorn Hill, her hands crossed in her lap, long red curls spilling over her shoulder. She looks up at him with tear-filled brown eyes.
"Aren't you scared, Jason?"
Polly is pulling him closer, holding him tightly after telling him the news. His heart thuds in his chest and he can feel hers as well.
"We can run during the next Hunt," she whispers to him. "The farm will accept us, we can work there."
Cheryl is stepping into a row-boat, dressed in white so fine that it may be the only white dress left in Riverdale. There's too much blood to properly wear that clothing. But Cheryl is Cheryl, refusing to allow a single Beast to sully her even now.
Polly is looking into his eyes at Pop's, ignoring the strained look on her sister's face a few booths away as she tries not to watch the spectacle. Polly is amused as she explains that her parents don't approve.
"Are you ready, Beast?" a voice says. Jason shakes his head, blood is on his lips. The lamp swings and dances...a little to the left...a little to the right...
"I'm no Beast," he says. "I haven't even had the transfusion."
The voice snorts. He hears more footsteps. The lantern swings to the left...to the right...
and BAM.
Jason Blossom is gone.
From the writings of Jughead Jones:
In this madness it's easy to forget the smaller things. For years Riverdale has been overtaken by blood frenzy, by the Beast, and yet there are some who remember the old days, when Pop's didn't need to burn the incense to keep creatures away, when Riverdale High taught something other than how to wield a weapon. When everything wasn't tied to the Hunt, a nightly function run by the Blossom family. It's easy to forget how things used to be, in the midst of all this killing.
Which is why it's so strange when someone dies under unnatural circumstances, like the tale of Jason Blossom.
On July the 4th, Jason and his sister, the Lady Cheryl, took to a boat on the Sweetwater River. Cheryl was found later, river water soaked into her dress and tears on her face.
It is strange for a man to drown in these times.
But it is stranger still to discover what happened next.
For at that very moment, a certain blonde haired girl next door was preparing to take to the streets of Riverdale while the moon hung high in the sky and the creatures roamed...