MINOR SPOILERS FOR EP5!
Tw: Blood, guns and bullets.
Steven scampered through the seemingly never ending hallways, his blurred vision resulted in a heightened difficulty in his desperation to find the exit.
Jake's knife was clutched in an iron grip, digging uncomfortably within his palm.
He skidded to a stop, unable to hold in his choked sobs, gasping desperately as he glanced behind him, desperately wanting to go back, wanting to help his brother.
Marc…
Jake was right, Marc needed him and scrubbing at his watery vision he regarded the deserted hallways.
Despite Steven's anxious panic, his stomach coiled in a way that resulted in a twisted nausea, there was no one, not a single person guarding the hallways.
It seemed that Jake had kept his promise, forcing the attention on himself through violence to distract them long enough for the Brit to flee.
It was that sudden thought that spurred Steven on, forcing himself through the stark white corridors, ignoring the constricting guilt that swarmed him.
A single door greeted him and he almost sobbed in relief as he forced his trembling hands to grasp the handle, unexpecting the door to smoothly swing open to freedom.
He shoved down the nagging thought that this was easy…
Too easy…
Blinking the glaring sun out of his eyes, his eyes trailed over the suburban town. The chaos of the compact town, dotted with people and humble shops reached his ears, it was by chance that the nearest building was a shop and sprinted towards the public area.
High pitched screams and frightened yelps of panic didn't falter his determined mind, nothing would.
Not when Jake needed him, not when Marc needed him.
Steven dully thought how insane he must've looked, bursting through the doors, waving the knife around as he pleaded for a phone and if the circumstances were different he would be extremely apologetic for the way he was acting, but there was no time.
Finally, a phone was handed to him, the lady's body quivering in fear as he snatched it, rushing out a 'thank you' and 'sorry' as he shoved the exit and left.
Weaving through the town, he located a secluded alleyway, to which he attempted to dial the familiar phone number, cursing his trembling hands as he stumbled over the wrong numbers.
The phone rang and Steven sagged, his adrenaline diminishing and an exhausted panic settling into him.
The phone rang again.
"Come on, come on." He muttered shakily, holding his breath as he begged him to answer.
"Hello?" Marc's disgruntled voice answered.
A sob bubbled out of Steven's throat at the sheer relief at the sound of his brother's voice.
"Marc." He managed to croak out, to which Marc shot up, a rush of protectiveness seizing him.
"Steven!" The American responded instantly, his tone thick with concern. "Are you alright? Where are you? What happened?"
The rush of questions left Steven disorientated and taking a deep breath he scanned his limited view for signs, or any hint of where they were.
"I'm…in Egypt. Aswan."
"Are you alright?" Marc repeated, pacing the length of the apartment as the overwhelming sensation of worry throttled him, to the point where he couldn't stand still.
His fingernails dug into his palm, clenched at the wavering sobs his brother yearned to keep at bay.
"I'm…fine, but Jake.."
"Jake? What happened? Is he alright?"
Marc felt akin to useless as the protective emotion seeped through him, to devastate whoever did this, to make sure they were safe, to get his family back.
"We were held by someone…" Steven cleared the lump in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest as the guilt and shame constricted against him.
"It's a trap Marc, Jake held them off while I ran."
"I'll be right there, stay where you are." Marc informed, the suit enwrapping him, the power flooding him, his senses alert.
He was going to get them back, no matter what.
.
.
.
Marc located Steven huddled in the corner of a dimmed alley, hunched over the knife, eyes darting in fear.
The cape fluttered in the wind as he descended and Steven scampered up, racing to Marc and clutching him in a distressed embrace.
The American let control of the suit slip from his grasp as he returned the hug, the whimpered sobs and tremors only added fuel to the rage that smothered him, anger coiling tightly as he yearned to hurt the one that did this.
That reduced his younger brother to terrified sobs.
That forced his older brother to stay behind to protect him.
"I'm going to get Jake, you stay here." Marc directed, his worried gaze catching the shaky breaths Steven forced out.
"It's a trap, you can't."
"I'm not leaving him there. I'll give you control of the suit, you get home."
To Safety was left unsaid.
Steven stubbornly shook his head, refusing to leave his brothers once again.
The guilt still attempted to drown him, to which he shoved it down, a stubborn look on his face, eyebrows drawn in seriousness.
"No, I'm coming with you."
Marc reluctantly agreed, realising there was no way he would be able to convince the Brit.
"Alright, but stay close to me."
Marc welcomed the suit, thrumming with power as Steven directed him to the building.
Entering the building, the deadly rage seethed through his stare as the guards darted within their way.
The American's assault was merciless as he swerved through the corridors, his crescent darts blurring, blood and screams morphing in the air, to which Marc continued, uncaring of the agony he caused.
They had hurt his family and now they would burn.
The hallway opened up and he froze, a deep unbridled terror racing through his veins, the mercenary was unable to clear the lump of panic that lodged within his throat, his eyes widening at the scene before him.
Steven let out a soft whimper, he could feel his younger brother's scared stare behind him.
Jake…
His brother.
His protector..
Was tied up, unconscious, a gun thrust into his head.
"I'm going to fucking kill you." Marc snarled, his face morphing into a venomous growl, directed at the unknown man.
"Marc Spector." The man greeted cheerfully, as if he was greeting a friend. "How nice of you to join us."
"I'm going to tear you apart. I'll rip you to shreds."
The man cocked his head at the threats, as if contemplating something.
"Now, is that any way to speak to me?" His finger jerked, touching the trigger in a feathery light touch to scare the American.
Marc's heart stuttered, he could feel the blood rushing through him in terror. A distressed whine forced out of Steven's throat, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.
"Alright, I'm sorry. Stop, please. What do you want?"
"I want to destroy you." The man said simply, unfazed at the pained groan as Jake's cocoa eyes fluttered open.
The protector found his gaze tracking to the door.
To where his brothers stood.
The gun dug uncomfortably in the back of his head.
"Welcome back Jake." The man behind him chuckled. "It's nice of you to join us."
No
No
No
The panic gripped at Jake's heart, he wouldn't, he wouldn't let their plan work.
And yet…
His limbs didn't listen to him, the agony of the drug controlling him.
"Jake, you alright?" Marc asked, voice wavering.
"Kid, you shouldn't have come." He croaked out, dipping his head so that his hair fell over his head, the tears snaked down his cheeks.
What kind of protector was he, if he couldn't even protect his family?!
"Let him go and you can have me." Marc tried to negotiate, hating that his brother was in this monster's grip.
The man snorted, as if Marc had just said the funniest joke in all of existence.
"Oh Marc, do you still not remember me? You killed my brother back when you were a mercenary. You destroyed my family and now, I'll destroy yours..."
"No!" Marc cried out, his desperate pleading echoed through the room.
"I'll do anything, anything. But please, let him go."
The man shrugged, uncaring. "Take the suit off. Both of you get rid of all your weapons."
Marc and Steven obeyed the orders immediately, the knife clattering down the hallway as it was chucked away, while Marc let go of the suit, his gaze not once leaving the man or Jake.
"Now the show begins." The man announced, chuckling to himself.
With his attention solely on the two, the presence of another man, creeping behind the brothers went unnoticed and the deafening click of the removal of the safety startled the two.
The gun was shoved into Steven's head, his eyes blown wide with fright as his lip trembled.
"I'm going to kill you." Marc's threat was dangerous, his gaze flitting from his brothers, terrified as Steven was nudged roughly to walk, guided next to Jake, he let out a startled yell as he was shoved onto his knees.
"It's interesting how you suddenly change from desperate to threatening." The man couldn't hide the amused grin if he wanted to. "Now, how about we play a game?"
"Let them go!" Marc had never felt a terror to this magnitude, he felt so utterly helpless, sobs racked his form as he pleads fell on deaf ears.
Jake willed himself to stay calm.
He knew what was coming and he had to stay strong.
The cab driver didn't want to die, but he had to stay strong, act like the older brother he was.
The New Yorker caught Steven's form, in the corner of his vision, the Brit kept his eyes downcast, shaking violently as tears dripped down his face, silently.
"Now, choose." The man proclaimed, the insane grin widening at Marc's confused stare.
"What the hell do you mean?" Marc growled animalistically, teeth clenched together as he tried to suppress his overwhelming emotions in order to help him think. To help him figure out how to escape.
"Choose who lives and who dies…"
Marc's legs felt weak, a nauseous bile filled his mouth. "No." His voice threatened to break, unable to form words beyond the screeching protect them that overflowed through him.
"No fucking way!"
"If you don't choose, I'll kill them both. So choose. Who will it be? Your precious protective older brother oooor your sweet innocent younger brother."
Marc couldn't breathe and with a horrible realisation he realised the heart-breaking whimpers that hung in the air was the result of him.
The American felt so helpless, so useless as the tears continued to stream, choking him through his swirling emotions.
"Choose wisely Marc Spector…" The man prodded, the sadistic flush of power at the fragile state of the American.
"No." Marc's voice was raw with emotion as he shook his head vehemently, he wasn't even going to consider it.
"How about I choose for you then?" The man suggested and the effect was instantaneous as Marc protested immediately.
"No! Wait, please. Choose me!" An agonising pain consumed him with every breath, it hurt to think, he wouldn't. The man couldn't make him.
"That's not how it works." The man replied bored, rolling his eyes at the typical response.
Jake took a deep breath, forcing his tone to remain steady as he addressed his heartbroken brother.
"Kid."
Marc hated it, hated the way he knew what Jake was going to say in that soft resigned tone.
"No, don't say it Jake." Marc begged the cab driver, he was a blubbering mess, but he ignored it, he couldn't do this!
"Kid please." Jake's strong gaze was unwavering as it held his anguished look.
"I can't…I can't lose you Jake." Marc winced as his voice cracked, leaving a hushed whimper. Marc couldn't feel his body, it was stiff with horror and yet it was battered with trembles, as if he was a feeble leaf in the relentless winds.
He could hear Jake's unsaid reply, knowing what the protector would say.
You can't lose Steven more.
His family was being torn apart at the seams and all Marc could do was weep, unable to think a coherent thought.
Khonshu wasn't answering his pleading calls…
"Fuck you and your game!" Marc spat. "I'll kill you."
"Can you kill me?" The man taunted, enjoying the show. "Can you kill me before I pull the trigger?"
The rage crumpled and he could only sag. It was a wonder Marc was even standing upright, it took everything for him not to collapse onto the cold concrete.
"Marc." Steven's voice wavered, petrified. "Marc…"
"Absolutely not!." Marc barked, fists clenching and unclenching, disregarding Steven's request before it was even said.
He couldn't do this!
He couldn't kill one of his family!
Jake forced the American's eyes onto him and Marc could only sob helplessly, shaking his head.
The silent conversation was created and Marc despised the resigned smile on the New Yorker's face.
He knew what the cab driver was saying, despite the lack of words.
Marc felt like he was back in the cave, drowning, suffocating.
Kid, this is my job. Let me do this one final thing for you two.
Let me please do this!
No no no, I don't want to!
Marc felt akin to a child throwing a tantrum, everything out of his control, out of his grasp and he couldn't do a damn thing.
Jake maintained his accepted smile, a tear tracing down his cheek.
Take care of your brother alright?
Jake…
"You have 5 seconds." The man interrupted, irritated with how the mercenary still hadn't decided.
No no no he couldn't do this, didn't want to do this!
"4"
Jake nodded slightly to the terrified other, consoling him without words.
You can do this kid, please.
"3"
This was just a nightmare right? And I'll wake up, safe, at home. With my family…
Marc bit his lip, averting his gaze from the protector, he didn't want to do this!
Never thought he would have to choose, a choice that would leave him torn apart.
Leave one of his brothers dead…
"2"
He clenched his eyes shut, his relentless tears and he just wanted to disappear. He wanted to do something, anything.
Khonshu please!
Nothing, no answer.
"1"
"Jake" Marc whimpered out and his older brother smiled nodding, shutting his eyes as the gunshot rang through the air.
The shot jolted Marc, tearing his heart into two and as the man relaxed, Marc forced his emotions back, ignoring the screams and hyperventilated sobs from Steven, he grabbed the gun, flinging the back of it with the other man, to which his eyes rolled up in his head.
Steven crawled to his brother, hunched over Jake, sobbing, crying, pleading for him to wake up.
Marc shot the man's leg, his shaky hands forced out one shot after another.
Again and again, his screams of agony didn't relive the hollow nothing that tore Marc apart and when the click of empty bullets answered him, he sagged to the ground his heart felt akin to being trampled on.
The mercenary couldn't stop himself from staring at the lifeless form of the New Yorker, he kept waiting for him to wake up.
To jump up, to laugh, to tease him with a fond smile.
Marc whimpered, the grief constricting him, wrapping around him.
He killed his brother, again.
He destroyed his family.
Um...Sorry? :))
See you next week.
Take care!
Xxx