Prompt(s) Filled: No 3 - "Make it stop.", No 7 - Alleyway, No 8 - "It's all for nothing.", No 10 - Broken Phone, No 11 - "No one will find you.", No 22 - "They never saw us coming, 'til they hit the floor.", No 23 - "It's gonna get me by the end of the night.", Shadows, Stalking, "Who's there?", Alt 2 - Aftermath of Failure, Alt 3 - Brass Knuckles
He couldn't believe this was actually happening.
All of his dreams were gone just like that.
He had been so close. If he had only been a fraction of a second quicker he could have won. He could have been holding that gold medal in his hands. He could have been up there on the podium, the crowd cheering for him, his national anthem playing behind him, his country proud of him.
None of that had happened, at least not for him. He was a failure, and had to go home a disappointment. He wouldn't be able to show his face again. His family, his friends, his whole country had watched him fail, had seen him be too slow, had seen him mess up on that last turn which had snatched him from not only gold but from any other medal.
He ground his teeth together as he thought back to his time in the pool. He had been in the third lane after he'd done well in the previous heats. He had promise to take first place, he just had to push past his competition and he would come out on top.
It had started well. He tried to not get too distracted by the other swimmers and concentrated on his own swimming, but he knew he was ahead.
But then, when he was reaching the end of the first length, he couldn't help but catch sight in his peripheral of the swimmer two lanes over.
Gordon Tracy.
He was one of his competitors that he had been keeping an eye on throughout this whole competition. He was young and this was his first olympics, but he wasn't one to be underestimated. He had done well in the qualifying heats, and his position in fifth lane was a sign of that.
He was pulling ahead of the rest of them already, and he knew that if he had any chance of keeping up with the other man, he would need to push harder.
From that point on, he was constantly playing catch up to the younger man. It soon felt like every metre he swam, Tracy swam twice as far. Gordon was just a few centimetres ahead, then he was a whole stroke in front, then a whole body length away. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't keep up.
He knew he needed to pace himself, and the further they went, the slower he could feel himself getting. But he had to keep pushing himself if he had any chance of taking gold. At this rate, he would barely make silver.
But then he messed up his final turn, and any chance of even making it onto the podium was gone as two more swimmers overtook him on the final length. He kept going, determination not allowing him to give up, but he ended up coming in forth.
As his head burst out of the water and he turned to the screen, his heart sank when he saw his name, too far down to even win a medal. There were cheers coming from the crowd, but he knew they were not for him. He couldn't even look at the other swimmers, feeling disappointed in himself and sick to his stomach.
As soon as he could, he pulled himself out of the pool and retreated to the changing rooms. He ignored anything his coach said as he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the crushing feeling of failure. Everything he had done, all the time he'd spent training, it had all been for nothing.
Throughout the day, however, that feeling of despair soon turned into anger. Not anger at himself for failing, but anger towards the person who caused his downfall.
If it hadn't been for Gordon Tracy then he would have won. He would have stood up on that podium and his country would now be celebrating his win. Tracy was the reason he was now a shame to his family, so he was going to pay for what he'd done.
As he stood waiting outside of the Olympic Village, he fiddled with the hard metal he could feel in his pocket. It was cold and smooth, but also heavy, and he knew it would pack an awful punch.
Good.
When he finally spotted his target leaving the village, he kicked off the wall he was leaning against and clenched the weapon in his pocket, but didn't reveal it yet. It was too busy around here.
The other man was talking on the phone, smiling in excitement and talking with enthusiasm, which made anger boil in his stomach. He had to resist the urge to attack now, and instead fell into a step behind the other man as he followed him into the city.
He was no doubt on his way to celebrate his win, a win he didn't deserve. He would soon find out how undeserving of that win he really was.
His stalker walked several steps behind him, far enough behind to not be seen but close enough to still see Gordon and track his movements.
The city was busy, and he was beginning to think he wouldn't have an opportunity to strike without being seen, but then he was given a glorious opening. Gordon turned into an alleyway, likely taking a shortcut and not thinking about the consequences of wandering through a dark and quiet part of the city where no one would see him.
He grinned as he picked up his pace to follow the young man into the alley, his hand reaching into his pocket and slipping on the brass knuckles. Gordon was now only a short distance away, but he hadn't noticed him yet.
There was suddenly a clatter as he accidentally kicked a discarded can across the floor, and Gordon froze. He quickly slipped into the shadows of an alcove as Gordon spun around.
"Who's there?" Gordon's voice called across the small space.
His stalker kept quiet, relishing in the fear in the other man's voice. He didn't want Tracy to know he was there until it was too late.
After a moment, he heard footsteps as Gordon continued, and he soon followed. However, as he stepped out of the alcove, he noticed a brick on the floor by his feet. With a grin, he picked it up and tested the weight. This was just getting better.
Not wasting anymore time, he quickly, but quietly, continued along the alleyway. He stuck to the shadows so he wouldn't be seen, until he had caught up completely with Gordon.
Without another second, he raised the brick, and brought it down to connect with the back of the other man's skull.
Gordon fell like a sack of potatoes, his body crumbling to the concrete below. He dropped the brick and clutched his brass knuckles as the young man on the floor twitched like he was going to try and get up. Before he could give the other man the opportunity to get away, his fist connected with his cheek and sent him back into the hard ground.
He didn't stop, and hit Tracy over and over, letting his anger and pain at losing fuel each hit. He cried out in frustration, his vision turning white. He could no longer see the man in front of him, and instead all he could see was the screen that told everyone in the world he'd lost. All he knew was the swimmers filling his peripheral as they overtook him, his limbs feeling like they were fighting molasses as they failed to push through the water and catch up.
He fought through the sludge, his punches coming harder as the resistance increased. Soon, it almost felt like he had left his own body and was watching himself beat the other man, not holding anything back.
"S-stop."
He paused, feeling himself snap back to the present as a small, pain-filled voice croaked from below him. He looked down at the other man, and saw through Gordon's bloody and already swelling face, his expression scrunched up in agony.
"Please… m-make it st-op." His voice hitched, barely getting out the words.
The man just smirked, and leant in close in case Gordon wouldn't hear.
"No."
He stretched his fist as he stood, his knuckles covered in blood, but unharmed. He then began to kick the man, hearing his ribs crack beneath his shoe, and stepped on his fingers that were outstretched, like he was trying to reach for help.
Eventually, when he was sure that Gordon was unconscious and he was satisfied with his work, he straightened up and admired what he'd done. Gordon was a bloody, broken mess. He definitely had some broken bones, and his face would be so swollen he would be nearly unrecognisable. It would be a long time until he would be well enough to get back in the pool again.
That would teach him to take a medal from someone who truly deserved it.
Deciding that he was pleased with his handiwork, he grasped the man under the shoulders and dragged him to the side of the alleyway so that he was out of sight. He grabbed some trash bags to throw on top of Gordon to make him even harder to find, but just before he did so, he heard the sound of a phone ringing. It took him a moment to realise it was coming from Gordon's pocket.
He discarded the garbage bags for a moment as he reached into Gordon's pocket to pull out the phone. The screen was a little smashed, but was otherwise working as it lit up with someone's name.
Rather than just declining the call, he dropped the phone to the floor and dug his heel into it. The ringing ceased as the smash of the screen echoed, and he smiled smugly at the knowledge that Gordon wouldn't even be able to call for help.
"No one will find you here," he said to the unconscious man like he could hear him, and resumed his task of burying him beneath the trash.
With one final view of his work, he turned on his heel and headed back the way he came. He put his hands in his pockets to hide the blood that stained them, but didn't hide the pleased smile that graced his face.