In light of some new season three, episode thirteen spoilers, I've decided to post this. (Yes, I know somebody else has already beaten me to the punch. Well, we're all allowed spoiler speculation, and mine has a far less ambiguous ending.) This is probably going to be three chapters to start with, and after the season, when I actually write the story, who knows?
For those of you unfamiliar with my L-series, Blaine was a sex slave the Andersons purchased and rented out to their friends. Pearl Rush is a character in an original work of mine I'm still trying to find a publisher for, and the woman who pushed to arrest the Andersons and the people who abused Blaine, and eventually adopted him. Emily Prentiss is a character in the show Criminal Minds, and she adopted Lauren Zizes after Lauren's father turned out to be a serial killer.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show "Glee," nor the song "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People. I only own a tumblr account.
Chapter I: Pumped Up Kicks
Robert's got a quick hand.
He'll look around the room; he won't tell you his plan.
He's got a rolled cigarette, hanging out his mouth he's a cowboy kid.
Yeah, he found a six shooter gun.
In his dad's closet hidden with a box of fun things, and I don't even know what.
But he's coming for you; yeah he's coming for you.
Today was the day they were finally going to do it. Santana and Brittany linked pinkies and walked in through the double doors, Santana leading the way, with heads held almost brazenly up before slushies were dumped in Santana's face.
"Oh, almost got a two-for-one," Rick-the-stick Nelson laughed at the girls.
Brittany led Santana into the bathroom as the girl cursed up a Spanish storm. Once they were inside, she broke down.
"This was supposed to be a special day!" she yelled through teary eyes.
As it turned out, it was still going to be.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
"Okay, guys!" Will called, holding up some new music. "First, I want to congratulate you all on your Michael Jackson tribute last night. We raised half of our total airfare with one concert. Give yourselves a hand!" Everyone clapped. "Now, that tribute was successful because Michael Jackson is an international phenomenon. But it was also successful because you guys are great. So, for this week, I want you guys to throw an even more successful concert using a less well-known artist group—Foster the People," he started to hand out the music to everyone, including Brittany and her newly cleaned girlfriend.
Rachel immediately raised her hand. "Mr. Schue, I think you got it in the wrong key."
"Rachel, we've been over this," Will looked at Rory. "For this, I would like Blaine to sing lead."
Everybody, save Rachel, turned and clapped for the former Warbler.
"Blaine, I understand that you've been having some difficulties at home, and I know that expressing yourself through song is one of the things you do best," Will nodded. "You deserve it."
"And I don't?" Rachel was furious.
"You get plenty of solos, Rachel," Kurt reminded her.
Rachel stomped out of the room in a huff.
Blaine looked incredibly guilty as he started to follow her.
"Don't," Kurt would have tugged on Blaine's sleeve if he weren't afraid of stretching out the Chanel fabric. "She's just going to slap you and keep storming off."
"Maybe, but at least I'd feel like I did something," Blaine said.
Kurt considered not following, but once he realize that Blaine's Chanel jacket was an imitation, he decided he could protect his boyfriend's incredible face by tugging on the fake designer jacket. "Excuse me," he said.
Will sighed. "How about I take the solo for now, and you guys can practice," he suggested.
New Directions stood and started to sing. They were too loud to hear what was going on at the other end of the school.
Daddy works a long day.
He'll be coming home late, he's coming home late.
And he's bringing me a surprise.
'Cause dinner's in the kitchen and it's packed in ice.
I've waited for a long time.
Yeah the sleight of my hand is now a quick-pull trigger,
I reason with my cigarette,
And say your hair's on fire, you must have lost your wits, yeah.
Jacob Ben Israel didn't know if the jocks could feel the extra weight in his backpack as they bumped him into lockers and other students. His grandfather's old service pistol was nestled safely between books he hadn't read and homework he didn't do. He wasn't going to kid himself; there was no way they were going to let him go back to school after that day, so it wasn't as if grades really mattered at this point.
The only thing that mattered was getting her attention.
Jacob dumped the contents of his backpack in his locker and felt around for the gun. Once his hand had wrapped around the cold metal, he raised it high in the air and fired a warning shot. One of the lights exploded above his head and students screamed and ducked. "Get out of my way!" he yelled.
This time, when he walked down the hall, no jocks bumped him. He shot them all anyway.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my bullet.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
"Blaine! Blaine!" Kurt called, running down the hall after his boyfriend. When his fingers brushed against Blaine's collar, he heard a sharp crack, like the time Finn tried to skateboard off the roof and broke his ankle, and some screams. Blaine froze, and Kurt bumped into him.
"Did you hear that?" Blaine asked.
Kurt nodded. "What was it?" he wondered aloud.
Blaine didn't answer. He started to turn and push Kurt back. Somewhere nearby, the sounds of Rachel's shuffling got faster before stopping completely. Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in horror before running after her. When they turned the corner, they found out why she had stopped.
A few feet away, Jacob Ben Israel had a gun pointed directly at her chest.
For a few seconds, nobody dared to move. Then Blaine began to cautiously edge toward the armed boy. "Jacob," he said, arms held up in the air, "what are you doing?"
"Get back now!" Jacob roared. The front of his shirt was covered with blood and he looked absolutely deranged.
"Oh, God, Jacob, who did you kill?" Rachel's voice was high and hysterical.
Jacob's face twisted into a demented smile that was somehow more terrifying that his previously blank expression. "I killed those damn jocks who hurt you, Rachel," he answered with the tone Kurt and Rachel recognized as his smitten one. "All except one," his voice hardened as he spat out, "Finn Hudson!"
"No!" Kurt and Rachel said at once, lowering their arms and walking toward him purposefully. Blaine knew what Jacob was going to do the second before he did it, as the tendon in the shooter's wrist moved, and ran forward to push Kurt out of the way just as Jacob pointed the gun at him and fired. The shot hit Blaine instead. The former Warbler crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach.
Rachel screamed as Kurt started to drag his boyfriend away.
Jacob turned the gun on her. "Shut up!" he yelled hysterically.
Rachel's eyes blazed in fury. Something inside her snapped. "NO!" she yelled.
New Directions kept whistling.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
"Two cream, no sugar, for you" Pearl said, setting down a cup for Emily Prentiss. "And three sugars, one cream for me."
"I swear, Pearl, you drink more sugar than Reid."
"Hey, we don't talk about how I'm going to develop Type-2 Diabetes in this house."
Prentiss snorted and took a sip of her coffee. "Mm, thanks," she said with true gratitude. "I've forgotten how good coffee is."
"Yeah, that crap they have down at the BAU makes my cooking taste gourmet."
Prentiss nearly spit out her coffee. "BAU coffee would make gasoline taste delicious, but Pearl, flames taste like flames no matter what you compare them to, and don't even bother giving me doe eyes, you know it's true."
Pearl pouted and flashed a thoroughly unimpressed Prentiss the doe eyes anyway, and that was when it happened. "Did you hear that?" Pearl inquired. "I could've sworn I heard screaming."
The two women sat there, staring at each other for a second, before Prentiss pulled out her phone and followed Pearl on her way to the latter's car.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
Pearl switched off the radio. This could not be happening. Not in a small town like Lima, where the biggest thing to happen in years was a-
"Oh, god," Prentiss gasped in horror as she showed her friend Jacob Ben Israel's blog of a school shooting. The bullet entering Blaine's appendix was being streamed live.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.
In case you're wondering where I got my spoilers, it's on santana - rachel . tumblr . com / post / 14713767075. Just remove the spaces. In case you're wondering when I'm going to stop making jokes about Pearl being a terrible cook, the answer is never. Good luck and happy nightmares!
