Autor: Scar
Title: Still (from a Stendan song, sorry Daughter's song)
genre: dark, action, angst
characters: Ste Hay, Brendan Brady
Rating: M
Warning: dark content, blood and sex
Summary: Set about six months after Brendan's arrest (Hollyoaks Later yeaaaah!) and has a happy ending (double yeaaah!) The whole plot is already in my head, but in the end the story could consist in 5 or 10 chapters, I don't know. Every chapters has as title a Daughter's song and is divided in more parts.
Please please, review *gets down on her knees*
Chapter 1
part 1
Human
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Woken up like an animal
Teeth ready for sinking
My mind's lost in bleak vision
I tried to escape but keep sinking
Limbs lost to a dead wait steak
Skull cage like a prison
And he has lost faith to ever see again
So may he once taught of me then
Underneath the skin there's a human
Buried deep within there's a human
And despite everything I'm still human
But I think I'm dying here
Waking up like an animal
I'm all ready for healing
My mind's lost with nightmares streaming
Waking up (kicking screaming)
Take me out of this place I'm in
Break me out of this shale case I'm in
I think that I'm still human
[Human - Daughter]
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"Die, you fucker!"
The controller flew across the room as the words 'game over' appeared on the TV screen.
Ste slumped into the couch. He was exhausted and sweaty and, with a quick glance at the clock on the wall to his left, found out he had spent the last two hours fighting against aliens from Zonak, trying to win the decisive battle.
Someone might have probably said he should have found something more constructive to do with his time, like to clean up and make the flat more decent, for example. But the more he looked and looked at the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, laying strewn on the floor, the more that mess seemed to comfort him. It at least gave to him the impression of a warm and welcoming house. If it hadn't been for the nauseating smell, he could almost have considered that mess as a modern art sculpture.
He should have met Peterson in a little more than a half an hour, and at that thought he sighed in frustration running a hand through his hair. For months, that was the only kind of meeting he was allowing himself, but he consoled with the fact that he came back home with a beautiful bunch of cash in his pockets making them heavier.
Peterson was an intermediary who pushed drugs away from Hollyoaks, and Ste, in cahoots with two of the Roscoe brothers, has been able to enter such a lucrative business where the main line was the high quality dope. Sometimes, it was necessary to understand that the shitty drug could have brought much more gain in the beginning, but not long-term, because sooner or later - sooner rather than later – the consumers would have ended up in the hospital, at best, and anyway their number would inevitably have been falling in the course of time, and so his profits. Instead, it was important, for the sake of the business profitability, that costumers remained in good health, alive at least, as long as possible. That approach had helped the 'Hay-Roscoe' company to realize a satisfying success.
.
All had started with his insane desire to buy the Chez-Chez, renamed 'The Loft' in the meantime.
And when it had not been possible to reach a deal, Ste had found himself in possession of an exorbitant amount of cash, in the metal box where once he used to hide Brendan's preferred cookies. Yeah, that Brendan, the man who had been almost killed and then arrested, and had also pushed him out of his life as if nothing had happened between them, as if Ste had been nothing more than a stain that had to be completely removed from Brendan's favorite suit.
Breaking up the business partnership with Doug, spending the whole day fucking around the village, in bed or killing boredom and monsters with the play, was almost physiological. At least, it was easier for him to resist temptation to turn from seller into end user for the same stuff he was dealing. He still had enough common sense to know that would have turned in his grave.
Sometimes, he wondered where he found the strength to go on.
When he had gone to visit his kids in Manchester, for example, had stood Amy's vitriolic glance when he had brought a mountain of toys for the kids, but only once she had ventured to ask him where he had taken the money. On that occasion he had given her a withering look and a piece of his mind, saying:
"Have I got no right to spoil my kids, Amy? Sorry if they are the only thing I've left in my life. "
Thankfully, Amy had not dared to utter the name of Brendan. It had been very wise of her, because that anger of ages ago was awakened, step by step, inside of him. Now it was colder and consequentially ruthless, and used to reach the climax whenever the thought of the Irishman came back hammering in his mind, more than usual. In those moments, he would have punched and kicked anyone, his children's mum included. Just the thought of the kids had stopped him from crossing that line.
.
After a refreshing shower, Ste started looking for something where he could have hidden the bags of pills; in the end, he found an old newspaper. One of the last ones he had bought; that was when they had ceased speaking about Brendan, jumping at more juicy news.
Six months earlier, Brendan Brady's arrest had been the most red-hot event for the Chester Herald, since Silas. After a few months, the articles were reduced to short paragraphs about the trial, in the second and third page, and at the end of it all, when the news didn't any longer hit the headlines, three lines on the last one: thirty years. Brendan had got thirty years for his crimes.
When Ste had read that news, it felt like he had received the same punishment, but without guilty verdict. Maybe, he had changed just because of that, since his thoughts had become all:
Okay, you sons of bitches! You have condemned me to thirty years without I've done anything. You've taken away from me the love of my life. Well, you owe me my next thirty years, and I want to spend them in my own way.
When they stopped speaking about Brendan, attention had shifted on a guy who had run away from Italy and then been caught in the area around Chester. He was a mobster or, as Italian say, 'mafioso'. It had been a very important arrest, possible only thanks to the collaboration amongst Interpol, DIA, the Italian center of investigation against Mafia's crimes, and FBI.
A big cheese, therefore, not an ordinary delinquent as Brendan Brady was.
The only thing the two men had in common was the sentence.
Thirty years for the mafioso.
Thirty years for killing five people who deserved to die.
Ste kept thinking there was no justice in this world. That's why he felt growing, inside of him, a deeper and deeper hatred towards everyone and everything. Sometimes, he used to close his eyes, thinking that, if he concentrated enough, he could blow the fucking world up, and a wicked grin took shape on his lips at the sound of the explosion and thousand fragments ranging in all directions of the cosmos. But then he thought of his kids, Leah and Lucas' little smiling faces as they saw him every week with his arms full of puppets and games for the Wii, and so he limited himself to demolish the last opponent in Mortal Kombat.
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Ste carefully put the bags of pills in the fold of the newspaper, and put it all under his arm. He only had ten minutes left, but he didn't care. He hated to get there first and preferred to arrive to the edge of the park with Peterson who was waiting for him. That made him feel more comfortable, if only because he would have seen if the police had arrived first.
Maybe, he would have been better off buying a more recent newspaper, but he had never been a great reader in general and didn't like to watch the national newscast, as well. If he had done it, he would have found out that mafioso boss had escaped just the day earlier.
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JOSEPH DEVITA ESCAPED DURING THE TRANSFER TO THE MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON IN MANCHESTER.
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Joseph Devita, 40 years old, also known as 'O Mericano' (The American, A/N), was helped to escape by an armed group, during his transfer to HM Prison Manchester, also known as Strangeways.
Joseph Devita, native American, is one of the most feared boss of eastern Sicily, Italy. He should have been locked up for 30 years for criminal conspiracy, murder and extortion. In the van, besides Devita, there were two other prisoners: Carmelo Di Pasquale, 36 years old, from Caltanissetta, Italy, right-hand man and responsible of several cruel murder, including Alfonso Terra's, 11 years old, who was dissolved in acid; Brendan Brady, 32 years old, from North Dublin, Ireland, guilty on five voluntary manslaughter, including his father's.
All three of them were sentenced to life imprisonment. They are now on the run and potentially dangerous. During the escape, two police officiers and the driver died, the third policeman lies dying in the hospital. The investigators reckon that at least one of the fugitives is seriously injured.
There is huge embarrassment in the Greater Manchester Police headquarter. The massive manhunt involved hundreds of police members since yesterday morning, but it so far gave no positive results.