TITLE: The Mini Mauler
CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Four/Not Just Candy
RATING: T (language and mature content)
A/N: In response to your question, Eph, yes, I will continue! Don't worry! The continuation is here and I have written the next chapter and conclusion as well! This ended up being WAY more than the little simple one shot I had planned! Thanks babybluecebu! Glad you're reading too!
Chapter Four: Not Just Candy
"Lemme see," Bobby nodded at Jack's pillowcase as the boy bounded back down one of the many font steps he had stood on that night.
Jack opened his sack and Bobby peered inside.
"That ain't nothin'," Bobby scoffed. "What're you doin', Jack? Givin' it back?"
Jack just shrugged.
"Look, if you wanna get extra, just pretend you're hurt or sad or somethin'. People eat that shit up." Bobby grinned.
"You – you want me to lie?" Jack look partially intrigued, partially horrified. "But Evelyn –"
"Shit, Jackie, don't faint over it. It ain't the bad kind 'a lyin', like Ma don't want us to do." Bobby reasoned.
"There's good lies?" Jack furrowed his small brow.
"Look Jack," Bobby sighed in frustration, "it ain't gonna hurt anyone. Do it or don't. Just hurry the hell up and get some candy so we can go home."
Jack merely nodded and shuffled off to the next house reluctantly. Of course, Jack had already been lying. He had lied to Bobby when he had asked why he barely had any candy. Bobby had been so nice to Jack that night already. He couldn't tell him. He would just bother him and make himself look like a baby.
Jack wasn't a baby. He couldn't be a baby. He was a hockey player.
Letting that feeling of safety from the jersey wash over him, Jack swallowed and returned on his candy finding mission. As he felt the fabric against his skin, he found he wasn't scared anymore.
With new strength and a little straighter posture, Jack marched up the steps to the next house.
"Look who's back," a black haired boy who was lined up at the door snickered towards the youngest Mercer.
"He wants to give us more candy," a blonde pirate chuckled at his own joke.
The door to the house opened and suddenly all the children were on their most glowing behavior, gleefully and greedily holding out their bags and buckets to receive their share of chocolate. Once the door slid shut once more, the boys abandon their masquerade.
"Okay," the raven haired zombie turned to the hockey player, "hand it over."
Unlike before, this time, Jack didn't immediately comply. When the boys saw this, their laughter ceased and suddenly they were advancing on Jack right there on the front stoop of a stranger's house.
"Do it," the pirate spat.
Finding that resolve somewhere in the seams of his new jersey, Jack pulled his head up, bringing his eyes from his feet to meet his foes face to face. His eyes held no terror as they so often did. He wasn't quivering or falling into some sort of frightful fit. Instead, he let authority glaze over his gaze. Superiority strengthened his stance. Fight clenched between his fists. And vigor laced his small voice.
"No."
The zombie made to grab Jack's sack, but Jack whipped the bag back, sending it flying straight at the black haired boy's face. The zombie toppled backwards, knocking over his werewolf friend in the process. The pirate lunged at the hockey player, but Jack was too quick. His reactions were instinctive. He ducked and leapt and came out unscathed while the blonde boy nearly tripped over his own feet. Anger was now bubbling underneath his skin, boiling beneath the fabric of the jersey. It was no longer just about self-defense. This wasn't about candy. It was never about candy. As the raw rage washed over Jack, the youngest Mercer dropped his pillowcase to the ground, lifting his hand to land a punch against the pirate's jaw. The boy swiftly sidestepped the attack and pounced again. Jack was caught off guard by the assault and found himself on his back, the pirate on top of him.
Or, at least, he had been.
Before Jack could even blink, the pirate was being lifted off of him and into the air by a large set of hands.
"What the hell?" The kid cursed and kicked out before landing none too gently on the pavement.
He hastily stood and sought out his attacker, a vengeful gleam in his eyes. When that glare landed on a towering Bobby Mercer, though, it suddenly shrunk. Fear replaced fury. The eldest Mercer simply stared at the boy. He didn't need to say a single word before the pirate, quickly followed by the werewolf and zombie, turned tail and ran.
Fierce eyes followed the three boys until they had disappeared into the darkness down the street. His gaze significantly softer, yet still hardened around the edges, Bobby turned to Jack, extending a hand to his little brother. The boy surprisingly took it and nearly jumped to his feet.
Bobby waited for the breakdown. Any moment now Jack would stiffen or start shaking. He might scream at nothing or press his eyelids closed so tight it hurt. Tears would flood his cheeks. Sometimes he would even collapse.
This time, though, Jack did something that Bobby never expected.
He smiled.
Jack smiled.
Jack was reluctant to shed a smile even during happy circumstances. Now he was full on grinning, a sly smirk twisting against his lips here and there amidst the smile.
Bobby was reeling. Maybe his new baby brother had finally lost it.
"What the hell you got that shit eatin' grin for, Cracker Jack?" Bobby finally blurted, unable to stop himself.
Jack merely pointed towards the ground, a sort of prideful glint in his eyes. Bobby followed his gaze to where three sacks of candy lay, discarded during the boys' retreat.
Bobby looked back up at Jack, his own smile spreading across his face. The eldest Mercer shook his head and bent over to gather the abandon sweets.
Without any words between the two of them, the brothers collected their treasure and headed down the street towards home.
It wasn't until halfway down the road, where a patch of defective and darkened streetlights stood side by side, that Bobby felt that familiar crawling sensation up his spine. All of the Mercers had almost a sixth sense for danger from growing up with it almost always all around them. Bobby knew immediately that Jack felt it too as the boy tensed beside him. Their eyes roamed the darkness surrounding them, Bobby instinctively stepping closer to his little brother, a protective arm going around Jack's shoulders.
It wasn't until he heard the footsteps growing near behind them that Bobby turned around to meet the cold eyes of their pursuers. Before his body had even completed the 180 degree maneuver, Bobby had pushed Jack behind him with one arm, his other reaching into his waistband. Bobby wasn't stupid. Even on Halloween, no, especially on Halloween, you never walked the streets of Detroit without some heat behind you.
Their eyes met and before Bobby could properly raise his weapon, something hard collided with the side of his head. The eldest Mercer crumpled over right before Jack's wide eyes.
"Well, hey there," the older boy who appeared to be a few years younger than Bobby, but several feet taller, spoke to Jack with mock kindness. "You got somethin' that belongs to my little brother."
Jack peered around the towering stranger to see the blonde pirate from before smirking.
"Not so tough without your bodyguard," the kid sneered.
If Bobby had been awake he would have made some sarcastic, and probably colorful, comment about the boy's cliché line and hypocritical nature behind it. But of course, Bobby was currently lying unconscious on the ground.
The boy was right.
Jack was alone.
