He knew that this was going to happen. There was always a risk when it came to love, and there was an even greater one when he was with her.
Loving Helena was always a risk and it wasn't just because of both of their nightly activities. No, there was always a risk in all parts of her life, ranging from her past connections to rival mobs that were always after her, to her self-sabotaging behavior. Loving Helena was always dangerous, but Vic had always found it to be worth any amount of pain that he could go through.
It was a routine visit, something that he always did. For the past seven months, since they began dating, every Tuesday night at nine pm he would make the thirty-minute drive from Hub City to Bludhaven to visit her while she graded her students' papers. It was the one night a week that either one of them could get a semblance of normal in their lives, so when Vic was making the drive to her place, he knew that he shouldn't have pulled over to stop the fight. He knew that he shouldn't have disturbed the ritual that they both carried out.
But he did.
And now he was beginning to regret it. The constant whacks of the baseball bat were beginning to dull, his body was starting to get numb from pain. He had hoped that the gang members surrounding him would start to get bored, but hope could only take a man so far.
Just when he thought they were done with him, one of the smaller members had yanked him from the fetal position that he had once laid in and onto his back. He had torn Vic's shirt open while four of the bigger goons pinned him down.
Vic's breathing had begun to quicken as he noticed what looked to be the head of the gang walk back into view with what looked like to be an oil drum.
The boss's thick Italian accent broke through the crowd as he leaned down to get eye level with Vic, "You know, mista' Sage, we woulda let you go, but we've been noticing you hangin' 'round with that Bertinelli girl. And, you know, we used to have to pay up to her father, got hurt bunches for not doin' it, but now that we have you," His voice darkened, "we've got our revenge."
Just as the man snapped his fingers, two men went and lifted up the barrel from the ground. The closer the drum came to Vic, the louder the sizzling and bubbling from the vessel became. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when the hydrofluoric acid hit his skin, but it didn't really matter.
The sensation of his flesh being eaten alive was painful enough that he couldn't fully respond to the situation. The skin around the wound had begun to turn an ugly shade of black from the acid eating through his flesh. As time went on, the pain increased tenfold from it burning through another layer of skin. This time, the pain was enough to clear his hazed mind and cause him to scream in anguish, the sound echoing off of the walls and reaching out to the street.
By the time that help had arrived, the acid had already burned multiple cavities through his midsection, with some already beginning to get infected from the dirty warehouse that he was taken to.
The hospital room was bright, way too bright. Vic squeezed his eyes shut to prevent his already forming headache from getting worse, the burning pain in his stomach beginning to alleviate from the pain killers that the doctors had given him. He couldn't remember much, his brain was too cloudy from the morphine, but he could vaguely remember the doctors saying that drugs were just prolonging the inevitable.
Charles Victor Szasz was dying. And it was a slow and painful death.
A few minutes later, the sound of high heels filled the room, distracting him from his thoughts. A soft hand gently squeezed his, "Oh babydoll, I'm so sorry."
Vic opened his eyes enough to see Helena, in her Huntress attire, sitting next to him. The look that she gave him was enough to make him wish that he had died in that warehouse, if only to keep him from seeing the distraught look from his lover's face.
"Why?" He questioned, voice thick from a combination of lack of water and tiredness.
"This is all my fault," she began, tears forming, "If I had paid more attention, I would've known that those guys were watching. I should've kept you away from me. I know that all I cause is pain for other people. I could've prevented you from getting here."
Vic tightened his grip on her, trying to emphasize what he was going to say next, "Helena, my love, there's nothing that you could've done to prevent this. It would have always happened, one way or another. Death is inevitable after all, it takes everyone eventually. But you know what, let me tell you this. If I had known that this is how it was going to end sooner, I wouldn't have changed a thing."
Helena closed her eyes, "Vic, please, don't–"
He interrupted her, "Helena, listen, I would endure all of the pain in the world ten times over just to be able to spend the time I have with you. Our lives are made of chance, and I am so glad I got the chance to spend my life with you. I wouldn't take a second of it back unless it meant being able to spend more time with you."
She smiled softly as she wiped her tears away, a hint of laughter in her voice, "God, I wish I could dance with you right now. This seems like such a dancing moment."
The two sat in silence for what seemed like hours, Helena's frown ever growing on her tear stained face.
Vic slowly turned his head to face the woman one last time, leaning into her touch, "Helena, will you smile for me, please? I hate seeing you so sad."
She squeezed his hand tighter than before and put on the best smile she could while tears were slowly pouring out of eyes, realizing what was coming for the both of them. The ever decreasing sound of his heartbeat on the monitor filled the room while the two stared at each other for what would be the last time.
The pained cries of grief filled the silent watchtower, almost drowning out the sound of the flatlining heart monitor.