To Kill A Child
By: Atomic Kokoro
Storyline
Tony becomes a dark killer after merciless interrogation and torture. He earns his revenge.
Before You Read
Not much going on in this chapter. Just non-important stuff.
On with the story.
...
Chapter 3
Sweet Revenge
They were looking for him. Him and his stupid-yet-genius brother. It was obvious that he had done it. Marc must have run away. Stupid. He should've stayed where he was. What was he gonna do without Lee, Megan, or Jerry?
WOOHP knew it was him, too. The bullets were from a specially designed weapon. After enough research, they would know the package was delivered to their house under his name. Since Marc was missing, they would be torn between who did what.
Or they would assume they were working together.
Tony could easily return, crying and injured, insisting it was Marc who did it and not him. That Marc had stolen his gun and done whatever he could and he managed to just get away with his life, but that would make things harder for the both of them.
He still had his revenge to earn and Marc...God knew what Marc was up to. He probably didn't want to know. He didn't need to know. It didn't concern him. Marc knew he was far from getting his youngest brother back. He wouldn't do anything.
Tony stood from his crouch in the alleyway across the street from his house, watching the lights and sirens. Neighbors called the cops when they heard gunshots and screaming. Marc ran away. Tony disappeared into the dark. Any clues that traced to either him or Marc may have been washed away. Only accusations were sensible.
The only questions were began with how. How long until it all went away? How long until he was caught? How long could he stay in hiding? How long would Marc stay in hiding? How long would the police look for the murderer? How would he survive? How would he find all those apart of the operation? How many people would die, how much would he have to suffer, how long would this be going on for?
...
How long until I find him? a voice growled in anger. He saw the aftermath. He couldn't stand what he saw. Vases broken, TV static, Blood staining the walls and carpet. Everybody dead. I will earn my revenge, he thought to himself.
If Tony thought he was the only dangerous weapon in the world, he was wrong. He pulled a desert eagle pistol from his drawer. He jumped out his window and ran as fast and far as he could without stopping until he was out of town.
Tony wasn't his brother anymore. They were enemies. He would kill him. Marc would kill Tony Clark.
...
Five Years Later
He left her breathless. It was no doubt. Prostitution was exactly the future Mr. Know-It-All had in mind for himself but in order to find his brother-no, enemy-, he needed money. And so far, this was the only way to get it.
Dragging his mind from his latest earn, he turned down a corner he knew all too well. Marc expected the barrel in his face before he woke up that morning. The barrel was taken from eye level and an old man stepped out from behind the trash can. "'Ey, my boy," he said with a Fisherman's accent. "What brings ya 'ere today, hm?"
Marc pulled a bill of cash from his pocket and handed it to the man. "I may be bent on revenge on Tony, but I'm not a complete jerk. Take the money. Spend it wisely."
The old Fisherman laughed and looked at the bill. "Ya'rr' the wise one 'ere, matey. Ya should use dat brain of yers someday to get ya somewhere, hm?"
"I would, if it were that easy," Marc replied. "I am only seventeen. No one in this city wants a too-smart seventeen-year-old in their shop, I doubt. Besides. I move too far, too quickly to keep a job, anyhow."
The Fisherman laughed. "This ain't no goodbye present, is it?"
Marc nodded. "I'm afraid so, old man. From what sources tell me, the murders are spreading East. It has to be Tony."
"Ya'll be missed, friend," the Fisherman sighed. "It was nice knowin' ya. Come back and visit when ya can."
"I will," said Marc. "I will live and come back. Don't worry."
The Fisherman began to wander out of the ally towards a shop. "I'm not worried. A boy as strong as you? No, I'm not worried."
...
Tony leaned forward, so close to the dying man's face, their noses were almost touching. "This is what you get for torturing children to the breaking point," he whispered, licking the blood off the man's lips.
He injected the knife into the man's chest. He gasped in a silent pain before falling back dead. Tony smiled and growled cheerfully. Another soldier dead. Far more to go.
Policemen broke open the door with a mighty kick. "Freeze with your hands up!" he ordered.
Tony laughed. "You stupid, stupid man. Bullets don't hurt me anymore. Hurt me all you want. You can't kill me. You'll never understand the truth without me." He turned and vanished out the window, suddenly invisible to the world.
The boy was gone. Long gone.
Another murder successful. Bloody, painful, and slow. As always. Revenge was sweet when it was like that.
It was always sweet like that.
Not far below the boy ducking in the tree was someone he hadn't expected to see in five years, holding a gun, ready to kill at first movement.
Tony jumped to the ground, but turned, whipping his pistol from his jacket, the barrel of another gun pressing against his forehead as he aimed his against his enemy.
Tony and Marc were at a stand-off.