donutdothis
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will be posting writing samples here from previous role plays!
Other cody's samples
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donutdothis
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The warehouse in which his initiation would take place was seated deep within the warehouse district, away from the entrance to the district and the warehouse in which prisoners were held. Prosper had his ideas of why this might have been—first and foremost that it afforded the Phantoms a sort of privacy when it came to the activities that were designated to occur there. From this deep within the warehouse district, it would be unlikely for the sounds that would come out of his victim to wander to the prisoners held closer toward the entrance, let alone to leave the warehouse district and attract curious visitors, living or Infected. Here, smack dab in the middle of the district, Prosper and his Phantom companion, Sauvanne, were isolated from the rest of the world. Isolation of such nature may have come as a comfort to Phantoms eager to take part in the activities that were planned for today, but for Prosper, who wanted nothing more than to be as far away from these psychopaths as possible, it was greatly unnerving.
He hid his nerves well, however—a necessary survival skill he’d gained years ago, back before the chaos of the outbreak had sprung upon the city of Wentworth, when he’d spent his time hunting down the scum of the Earth. Such days felt like memories from another lifetime now. Head held high, Prosper followed Sauvanne with a false-confident grace and a forced smile plastered across his lips in an effort to present himself as eager to partake in his initiation. As Sauvanne stopped in front of the warehouse, Prosper, too, came to a halt. Now that he was closer, he could see that the warehouse’s windows had been boarded up, and a dark crimson “X” was plastered on the garage door of the warehouse. Prosper didn’t need to be told that the marking was not of paint, but rather, blood.
In a fluid motion, Sauvanne opened the garage door to the warehouse. The stench hit him first—an acrid, iron-laden aroma, like decaying pennies. Prosper’s eyes began to well with tears, and he closed them briefly as he fought the urge to cough from the overwhelming stench of dried blood lingering in the air. His loss of composure was brief, however, as he knew anything more would concern Sauvanne, and Prosper was unwilling to blow his cover—not yet, not when he was so close to the reason he had come to this god-forsaken place. Swallowing hard, Prosper opened his eyes.
In front of him, a redhead man was bound to a chair with a cloth gag crudely forced into his mouth and tied behind his head. Nausea slithered up from the pit of Prosper’s stomach at the sight of Gunner, at the sight of his little brother. He had known that Gunner was a prisoner of the Phantoms long before he had come face-to-face with him, but seeing him in the flesh, in front of his very eyes, was nearly enough to make him break the character he’d carefully crafted. For a long moment Prosper could only stare at the redhead in awe, before his gaze shifted to Sauvanne. He had come into this with the anticipation that he’d play it cool, do whatever it took to get Gunner out of there, even if it meant hurting Gunner… but now that he was face-to-face with the brother he thought he’d never see again, the intrinsic desire to whirl him away to safety was nearly overwhelming.
Briefly, he considered it. The majority of the Phantoms had left the safety of their compound, leaving behind a select few to guard the district in their absence. If he played his cards right, Prosper was certain he could take the remaining Phantoms… or could he? His mouth felt uncomfortably dry as he weighed his options. As a newcomer, the Phantoms had yet to afford Prosper their full trust. This meant the remaining Phantoms in the compound would be on high alert, especially Sauvanne, who had been entrusted to watch over his initiation. She’d undoubtedly be watching for any little mistake, any little hesitation or display of empathy that might out Prosper as a fraud. He couldn’t risk it. Not now, not when he was so close.
A smile curved slowly on his lips, a forced but eager-appearing smile.
“Would you look at what we have here!” he exclaimed, a playful edge to his tone as he turned from Sauvanne to face his brother. Come on, Prop. Put on a show for them. Make them believe you, he told himself, and he forced in a slow but deep breath as he took a step closer to Gunner. “All tied up like a present on Christmas morning. The only thing that would make this better would be a pretty little bow on his head!” He laughed, a forced laugh, but a hearty one nonetheless. Prosper’s lips remained curved into a grin as he crouched low to the ground in front of his brother. He crossed his arms together and placed them on Gunner’s lap as he looked up at Gunner, thankful that Gunner’s legs were tied to the legs of the chair so that he could not kick him—God knows Gunner would have had he had the opportunity.
Prosper stayed still for a long moment, studying his brother’s expression. He could tell that Gunner was surprised to see him here, shocked at the behavior Prosper was displaying, shocked to see that his own damn brother, of all people, was claiming loyalty to his captors. Prosper could only hope that Gunner was smart enough to put two and two together—that he knew Prosper would never in a million years honestly side with these psychopaths.
He’d get Gunner out of here. He knew it might take weeks, perhaps even months, but if it was the last thing he did, he would get his brother out of this hellhole he’d been thrust into.
But for now—he had to put on a show, and a good one at that.
The idea of what he was meant to do made him sick, but Prosper ignored the nausea, the sour heat spreading throughout his throat, as he reached out to bop Gunner lightly on the nose with the tip of his index finger. “Hey there, little bro. Long time no see. We are about to have the reunion of a lifetime.”
Ignoring everything within him screaming at him to stop, Prosper reached for the knife holster strapped to his ankle and took the knife out. The knife was special—he’d had it since before the outbreak, a gift given to him from his father several years back, when Prosper had first entered into the predator hunting scene. It was to keep him safe, Garick had said… He didn’t like to think about how his father might feel if he were to know what the knife was being used for now. Prosper’s thumb ran over the intricate designs carved into the handle of the knife as he stared into Gunner’s eyes, silently pleading with his brother to forgive him for what he was about to do.
Prosper’s gaze then shifted from Gunner to the knife as he brought the knife closer to Gunner’s face. He dragged the edge of the jagged blade lightly across Gunner’s cheek, not to cut him but to allow the ginger to feel the cool edge of the blade as it danced across his skin. He traced it along Gunner’s jawline, lowering it slowly so that it caressed his neck, before finally Prosper made his move. In a sharp, fluid motion, the knife plunged into Gunner’s shoulder, burying itself halfway to the hilt. Prosper thought for certain he was going to be sick as he felt the knife sink far more smoothly than expected into his brother’s shoulder. Briefly, his eyelids fluttered, and he thought for certain he’d fall back against the ground, that he’d vomit up everything in his stomach, but by some miracle he managed to maintain his composure. Swallowing, he stood up, leaving the knife lodged into Gunner’s shoulder. He placed a hand on Gunner’s uninjured shoulder and leaned in close to him as he gripped the knife with his other hand. His eyes shifted only briefly to Sauvanne, hoping that the show he was putting on was enough, before he turned back to Gunner.
Can’t quit now. Keep it going. Make her believe you’re one of them.
“It’s funny,” he commented, his voice maintaining the playfulness he’d used earlier, “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this day. How many times I’ve wished I could make you hurt… I never thought this day would come.” As if to cement that fact, he twisted the knife in Gunner’s shoulder slightly. “I still remember the day Da gave me this, you know. The knife, I mean. Best birthday gift ever. All I could think about was how pretty it’d look buried in your chest… and now here we are.” The brunet ripped the knife out suddenly. Blood sprayed briefly out of the open wound, splattering his face, but Prosper ignored it as his gaze shifted from Gunner to the crimson coated knife. He turned it over in his hand, keeping his gaze on it, away from Gunner—he couldn’t bear to look at his brother anymore, to see the pain and confusion in his face. “You know, I really thought I’d never see you again. And now look at us. What are the chances?”
He could not believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He could not believe the way he spoke with a deranged edge to every word, the way they so effortlessly flowed out of his mouth despite the fact that he didn’t truly believe a word he spoke. Sure, he’d had his spats with Gunner… many times, in fact… but he’d never wanted to seriously hurt him. He never wanted to stab him, to torture him, to laugh at him like he enjoyed his pain. Prosper felt like a fucking monster—but in the end, it’d pay off. In the end, Gunner would know that it wasn’t truly Prosper—that this was a character he’d created to fool the Phantoms into trusting him. In the end, it would all be worth it.
He just had to play into the Phantoms’ games until the right opportunity arose.
He hid his nerves well, however—a necessary survival skill he’d gained years ago, back before the chaos of the outbreak had sprung upon the city of Wentworth, when he’d spent his time hunting down the scum of the Earth. Such days felt like memories from another lifetime now. Head held high, Prosper followed Sauvanne with a false-confident grace and a forced smile plastered across his lips in an effort to present himself as eager to partake in his initiation. As Sauvanne stopped in front of the warehouse, Prosper, too, came to a halt. Now that he was closer, he could see that the warehouse’s windows had been boarded up, and a dark crimson “X” was plastered on the garage door of the warehouse. Prosper didn’t need to be told that the marking was not of paint, but rather, blood.
In a fluid motion, Sauvanne opened the garage door to the warehouse. The stench hit him first—an acrid, iron-laden aroma, like decaying pennies. Prosper’s eyes began to well with tears, and he closed them briefly as he fought the urge to cough from the overwhelming stench of dried blood lingering in the air. His loss of composure was brief, however, as he knew anything more would concern Sauvanne, and Prosper was unwilling to blow his cover—not yet, not when he was so close to the reason he had come to this god-forsaken place. Swallowing hard, Prosper opened his eyes.
In front of him, a redhead man was bound to a chair with a cloth gag crudely forced into his mouth and tied behind his head. Nausea slithered up from the pit of Prosper’s stomach at the sight of Gunner, at the sight of his little brother. He had known that Gunner was a prisoner of the Phantoms long before he had come face-to-face with him, but seeing him in the flesh, in front of his very eyes, was nearly enough to make him break the character he’d carefully crafted. For a long moment Prosper could only stare at the redhead in awe, before his gaze shifted to Sauvanne. He had come into this with the anticipation that he’d play it cool, do whatever it took to get Gunner out of there, even if it meant hurting Gunner… but now that he was face-to-face with the brother he thought he’d never see again, the intrinsic desire to whirl him away to safety was nearly overwhelming.
Briefly, he considered it. The majority of the Phantoms had left the safety of their compound, leaving behind a select few to guard the district in their absence. If he played his cards right, Prosper was certain he could take the remaining Phantoms… or could he? His mouth felt uncomfortably dry as he weighed his options. As a newcomer, the Phantoms had yet to afford Prosper their full trust. This meant the remaining Phantoms in the compound would be on high alert, especially Sauvanne, who had been entrusted to watch over his initiation. She’d undoubtedly be watching for any little mistake, any little hesitation or display of empathy that might out Prosper as a fraud. He couldn’t risk it. Not now, not when he was so close.
A smile curved slowly on his lips, a forced but eager-appearing smile.
“Would you look at what we have here!” he exclaimed, a playful edge to his tone as he turned from Sauvanne to face his brother. Come on, Prop. Put on a show for them. Make them believe you, he told himself, and he forced in a slow but deep breath as he took a step closer to Gunner. “All tied up like a present on Christmas morning. The only thing that would make this better would be a pretty little bow on his head!” He laughed, a forced laugh, but a hearty one nonetheless. Prosper’s lips remained curved into a grin as he crouched low to the ground in front of his brother. He crossed his arms together and placed them on Gunner’s lap as he looked up at Gunner, thankful that Gunner’s legs were tied to the legs of the chair so that he could not kick him—God knows Gunner would have had he had the opportunity.
Prosper stayed still for a long moment, studying his brother’s expression. He could tell that Gunner was surprised to see him here, shocked at the behavior Prosper was displaying, shocked to see that his own damn brother, of all people, was claiming loyalty to his captors. Prosper could only hope that Gunner was smart enough to put two and two together—that he knew Prosper would never in a million years honestly side with these psychopaths.
He’d get Gunner out of here. He knew it might take weeks, perhaps even months, but if it was the last thing he did, he would get his brother out of this hellhole he’d been thrust into.
But for now—he had to put on a show, and a good one at that.
The idea of what he was meant to do made him sick, but Prosper ignored the nausea, the sour heat spreading throughout his throat, as he reached out to bop Gunner lightly on the nose with the tip of his index finger. “Hey there, little bro. Long time no see. We are about to have the reunion of a lifetime.”
Ignoring everything within him screaming at him to stop, Prosper reached for the knife holster strapped to his ankle and took the knife out. The knife was special—he’d had it since before the outbreak, a gift given to him from his father several years back, when Prosper had first entered into the predator hunting scene. It was to keep him safe, Garick had said… He didn’t like to think about how his father might feel if he were to know what the knife was being used for now. Prosper’s thumb ran over the intricate designs carved into the handle of the knife as he stared into Gunner’s eyes, silently pleading with his brother to forgive him for what he was about to do.
Prosper’s gaze then shifted from Gunner to the knife as he brought the knife closer to Gunner’s face. He dragged the edge of the jagged blade lightly across Gunner’s cheek, not to cut him but to allow the ginger to feel the cool edge of the blade as it danced across his skin. He traced it along Gunner’s jawline, lowering it slowly so that it caressed his neck, before finally Prosper made his move. In a sharp, fluid motion, the knife plunged into Gunner’s shoulder, burying itself halfway to the hilt. Prosper thought for certain he was going to be sick as he felt the knife sink far more smoothly than expected into his brother’s shoulder. Briefly, his eyelids fluttered, and he thought for certain he’d fall back against the ground, that he’d vomit up everything in his stomach, but by some miracle he managed to maintain his composure. Swallowing, he stood up, leaving the knife lodged into Gunner’s shoulder. He placed a hand on Gunner’s uninjured shoulder and leaned in close to him as he gripped the knife with his other hand. His eyes shifted only briefly to Sauvanne, hoping that the show he was putting on was enough, before he turned back to Gunner.
Can’t quit now. Keep it going. Make her believe you’re one of them.
“It’s funny,” he commented, his voice maintaining the playfulness he’d used earlier, “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this day. How many times I’ve wished I could make you hurt… I never thought this day would come.” As if to cement that fact, he twisted the knife in Gunner’s shoulder slightly. “I still remember the day Da gave me this, you know. The knife, I mean. Best birthday gift ever. All I could think about was how pretty it’d look buried in your chest… and now here we are.” The brunet ripped the knife out suddenly. Blood sprayed briefly out of the open wound, splattering his face, but Prosper ignored it as his gaze shifted from Gunner to the crimson coated knife. He turned it over in his hand, keeping his gaze on it, away from Gunner—he couldn’t bear to look at his brother anymore, to see the pain and confusion in his face. “You know, I really thought I’d never see you again. And now look at us. What are the chances?”
He could not believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He could not believe the way he spoke with a deranged edge to every word, the way they so effortlessly flowed out of his mouth despite the fact that he didn’t truly believe a word he spoke. Sure, he’d had his spats with Gunner… many times, in fact… but he’d never wanted to seriously hurt him. He never wanted to stab him, to torture him, to laugh at him like he enjoyed his pain. Prosper felt like a fucking monster—but in the end, it’d pay off. In the end, Gunner would know that it wasn’t truly Prosper—that this was a character he’d created to fool the Phantoms into trusting him. In the end, it would all be worth it.
He just had to play into the Phantoms’ games until the right opportunity arose.
donutdothis
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”What in the ever living fuck possessed you to come here.”
Riley’s tone was laced with venom as he spat out the question - though it was said as more of a statement, with every intention to make it clear that the man in front of him was not welcome here. His expression was twisted into a scathing scowl, eyes glaring daggers at the man in front of him. Adam had already knocked once before, and the moment Riley had seen who exactly it was at his front door, he had slammed the door shut in his face. Adam had proceeded to knock again, and again, and again, until finally Riley had practically ripped the door open in frustration. As angry as Riley was, Adam seemed amused more than anything, which only further added to Riley’s frustration. His father had a grin on his face, the same condescending grin he had used throughout most of Riley’s childhood, and the mere sight of it sickened Riley.
”Calm down, kiddo -”
”Don’t call me that.”
”I’m here on business,” Adam continued as if Riley hadn’t interrupted. He took a step closer to Riley, and Riley’s scowl deepened as he stood his ground. He pulled the door further shut, blocking the gap with his body, and he did not dare take his eyes off of Adam. ”Roland sent me. So let me in.” Adam moved forward, as if ready to push past Riley to get into the house, and Riley’s nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol on his father’s breath. With little hesitation, Riley shoved his hands into his father’s chest hard, sending the taller man stumbling back. Adam released a scoff at this, but his lips curled into that same damned grin again as he regained his confident posture.
”I don’t give a fuck who sent you. Get. The fuck. Away. And don’t show your fucking face here again,” Riley hissed, and he spit at Adam’s feet. He took a step back into the house and shoved the door hard, ready to slam it into his father’s face again, but Adam caught the door with his foot.
”You know, Riles -”
”You don’t get to fucking call me that, you piece of shit.”
”This used to be my house. Besides - might wanna think twice before you go against Roland’s orders,” Adam said, once again continuing as though Riley hadn’t interrupted in the first place.
Gritting his teeth, Riley stepped forward abruptly, and he grabbed the front of his father’s shirt as he turned him swiftly, slamming him back against the wall of the house. Riley did not break eye contact as he gripped onto his father’s shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white, and for a moment, Adam did seem surprised. The grin dropped from his face, and his hands flew to Riley’s wrists, wrapping around them and pulling at them in shock.
”I don’t give a flying fuck about Roland. He wants something from me, he can march his bitch ass over here himself. So let me reiterate. Fuck. You." Riley shoved his middle finger into his father's face. "You are not welcome here. This is not your house. You gave that up when you decided to lay your fucking hands on your wife and kids. You can tell Roland he can go fuck himself if he thinks -”
Adam had been relatively tame for the majority of his visit, but Riley knew from experience that his father was prone to snapping without warning. He had done so time and time again throughout his childhood, and so in all reality, Riley wasn’t sure why he anticipated this time to be any different. Adam had swiftly moved out of Riley’s grip, turning Riley so that he was the one pinned against the wall. Riley’s sentence was cut short abruptly as he was slammed hard against the wall of the house, and he swallowed as Adam wrapped a hand tightly around his throat. It wasn’t tight enough to cut off his air, but the sensation of his father’s hand on his throat was still chilling, and Riley could feel the panic welling up within him as he directed his gaze to the floor. Adam’s smile returned to his face as he leaned in close to Riley, breath hot against Riley’s ear. ”Listen carefully, Riley,” he whispered, his grip on Riley’s throat tightening, this time cutting off air. All at once, Riley was that scared little kid again, frozen in fear, and he closed his eyes, unable to will himself to fight back. ”You got a problem, take it up with Roland. I’m just the messenger.” Adam released his grip on Riley’s throat, his hand instead gripping Riley’s chin. Riley reluctantly opened his eyes to face his father as Adam pulled his chin up, forcing him to look at him. ”But don’t forget. Roland basically owns you. I’d hate to see what would happen to my kids if Roland doesn’t get what he wants out of you.”
Riley could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and he averted his gaze again as he pursed his lips, adamant that he wouldn’t let his father see him cry. Defeated, Riley whispered out, ”Fine. What do you want, Dad?”
”Daddy? What are you doing?”
The small voice had Riley flinching, and Riley’s eyes darted up to Adam as his father’s gaze shifted to the front door. If he hadn’t been scared before, he sure as hell was now. Riley couldn’t stop himself from trembling as he said, slowly and steadily, ”Go back inside, Annie.” The child at the door hesitated, her eyes shifting back and forth from Riley to her father, and Adam offered his daughter a gentle smile.
”Hey, sweetie,” he said in a sickeningly sweet voice, and he released Riley to turn fully to Annie. He crouched low so that he was at her level, though he still kept his distance, and Riley stared at the ground, focusing on his breathing as he struggled to remain calm. The last thing he wanted to do was upset his sister, especially in front of him. ”Look at you, you’re getting so big. Can’t believe my little girl is growing up.” Annie looked from Adam to Riley, but Riley did not return her gaze. He simply stared at the ground, struggling to ignore the sickening sensation of his stomach twisting in knots.
Annie’s lips twitched into a small smile as she took a step forward. ”Are you here to visit?” Riley could hear the excitement in her voice, and it hurt more than he’d ever lead on. The last thing Annie should have been excited over was the piece of shit that was their father - but here she was, smile growing at the prospect of seeing her father again.
”Not today, sweetie.”
Frowning, Annie dropped her gaze to the ground. ”Oh.”
Adam extended an arm out to his daughter, smiling again at her as he gestured her to come to him. ”Hey, come here, come give me a hug.” Cautiously, Annie stepped forward, and Adam gestured her to come to him again. Finally, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her small arms around her father’s shoulders. Adam closed his arms around her and scooped her up, hoisting her into his arms as he stood. ”Tell you what. I’ll come spend the day with you guys soon, okay? But I can’t today, so you gotta be patient. But if you be good - maybe I’ll bring you a surprise next time, okay? Sound good?” Annie perked up at this, and, grinning ear to ear, she nodded in agreement. ”Great!” He lowered Annie to the ground, and he gave her one last hug before he released her. ”Thanks for the hugs, kiddo. You wanna run inside now so Riley and I can talk? Don’t forget our deal, though, okay?” Once again, Annie eagerly nodded.
”Okay! I’ll see you soon, Daddy!” Looking to her father one last time, Annie turned and began inside.
”Shut the door behind you,” Adam called after her, to which she obliged. As soon as the door shut, Adam turned to Riley, maintaining the relaxed, friendly demeanor he had used with Annie. He pulled Riley in close, and Riley’s skin crawled as his father wrapped an arm around his shoulder. ”You know, she’s a sweet kid. I’d really hate to see something happen to her. Honestly. But -”
”What do you want from me, Dad?” Riley snapped, voice breaking up as he choked out the words. ”I get it. I do. Just - tell me what Roland wants already. Please,” Riley flinched at the word - he hated that word - but he found himself using it often with his father. ”I’ll do whatever he wants, okay? Just leave her out of it.”
”Knew you weren’t as stupid as you look.” Adam reached into his jacket pocket, shuffling through it before he pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it to reveal hastily scribbled words, and he handed it to Riley. Hands trembling, Riley took the paper, eyes scanning the words. It was a list of supplies, nothing out of the ordinary, and Riley swallowed as he averted his gaze to the ground again. ”Make sure you get it all. Drop it off at the prison when you get back.” Adam finally released Riley, and Riley gasped in relief as Adam finally stepped back, allowing some distance. ”See, Riley? All that anger over nothing. I could have come in, we could have made some drinks, had fun. But you had to do this. I think you owe me an apology.”
Riley’s brows furrowed, and he looked back up to his dad.
”What? I - no - you came to my house and threatened -”
Adam stepped forward abruptly, and Riley flinched hard as he stepped back, pressing himself against the wall again and turning his face from his father. Adam didn’t raise a hand to him, nor did he touch him again, but Riley still held his breath nonetheless. ”You are my son, and you will talk to me with respect. So look at me. And apologize.”
Breathing in deeply, Riley turned to face his father again. He stared at his father for a long moment, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he struggled to come up with the words, until finally, he forced himself to speak, face burning red in humiliation. ”I’m sorry. I'm sorry, okay? You - you didn’t deserve that. So - I’m sorry.”
”Apology accepted. Maybe if you used that head of yours,” Adam stepped forward abruptly again, fingers tapping hard against the side of Riley’s head, and Riley flinched as he hissed out a breath of pain, ”We wouldn’t have this problem. So think about that next time.” Satisfied, Adam turned from Riley and began to walk down the sidewalk, and Riley struggled to hold it together long enough for Adam to leave. Adam did not, however - not yet. He stopped, and, turning to face Riley one last time, said, ”And Riley? Wipe those tears from your face. You’re fucking pathetic, and it’s embarrassing.” Adam turned and held up his hand in a brief wave. ”See ya later, kid.”
Riley hardly held it together long enough. As soon as Adam was out of sight, he gasped out an audible breath, unable to stop the flow of tears. Back pressed to the wall behind him, Riley slid to the ground, knees pulled in close, and he hung his head as he sobbed.
---
Riley hadn’t said much since he, Garick, and Embry had left the quarantine zone. If he were being honest, he knew he really wasn’t in the proper state to go on a smuggling trip. Their lives were at stake every second they were outside of the zone, and outside, of all places, he needed to focus - but he found that to be much easier said than done. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, his mind eventually wandered to the events of the other day. It was all he had thought about from the moment it had happened to when he and the others had left that morning.
It was the first time in a long time that Riley and Adam had faced each other off, and no matter how much Riley would have liked to say that his father no longer scared him, he couldn’t. His presence alone was terrifying, but even more so was his threats. He wanted to believe that Adam loved his children, that he’d never in a million years allow Roland to bring any harm to his siblings… but he knew deep down that it wasn’t so.
Adam was a monster, and Riley knew from experience that he had no problem hurting his kids for any number of reasons.
Riley was pulled out of his thoughts suddenly as he glanced up from the ground he had focused on, only to realize that the others were a good bit ahead of him. It wasn’t surprising; they were quite a bit taller than he was, and he always found himself lagging behind the others because of it. Still, he released a frustrated sigh as he picked up his own pace a bit. ”Hey, guys?” he called out, ”Do you think you could slow -”
The sound to his right had him cutting that sentence short, and Riley abruptly whirled to face the source of the sound, crossbow in hand. He didn’t see anything; the foliage in the woods was thick, and it was difficult to make out much of anything, but wooded areas were generally safer than towns and cities. Wooded areas made it less likely to encounter infected and survivors, but it wasn’t unheard of to encounter either. Still, the sound could have been anything - it was likely just an animal moving past a bush.
It didn’t stop his eyes from scanning the area suspiciously, crossbow ready to shoot.
After a few moments of silence, Riley reluctantly began to lower his crossbow, and he spared a last glance before he turned to face the others again. Swallowing, he began to move forward again to try to close the gap between himself and the others.
The clicking was unmistakable, this time to his left, and Riley once again whirled to face it. He shot the crossbow, but it was too late. The bolt hit it, but not fatally, burying itself into its arm, and Riley cursed as he quickly reached for a second bolt. He reloaded and shot again, and this time, the bolt shot through its head, sending the clicker to the ground, dead. ”What the fu-”
He was cut off by the sound of another growl, this time behind him, but it was too late. He turned to face the second clicker, but before he could reload the crossbow in time, the infected swung its arm out, knocking the crossbow out of his hands and sending it skidding across the ground. The clicker quickly grabbed at him, its fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, and it moved forward fast, snapping its jaws at him in a desperate attempt to bite him. Riley stumbled backwards, struggling to hold the infected back, and in the process he lost his footing, sending him sprawling to the ground with the clicker on top of him. ”God dammit, get the fuck off of me!” Riley screamed, his arm barely managing to hold the infected back. The creature was dangerously close, its teeth inches from Riley’s face, and Riley gritted his teeth tightly as the rancid stench of its breath emanated towards him.
The sounds of similar clicks came in unison, and Riley’s head jerked as he struggled to figure out where the sounds were coming from - before he realized they were coming from everywhere. The clickers were surrounding them from all angles, closing in on them quickly, and Riley growled in frustration at this realization. ”FUCK!”
Grunting, he pulled his knee under the infected’s body, Riley shoved it forward with his foot hard, sending it back. The clicker was thrown back quickly, and Riley took the opportunity to pull himself forward along the ground, not wasting the time to stand. The clicker followed close behind him, its fingers gripping onto Riley’s shoe, pulling him back as Riley’s fingers brushed against the crossbow. He kicked at the infected hard, but it wouldn’t budge; it had a tight grip on him, and it was strong, desperately trying to pull him towards its snapping jaws as the others closed in on them. His fingers brushed against the crossbow again, and he grunted as he desperately reached for it, before finally snatching the crossbow. Crossbow in hand, Riley’s trembling hands loaded a bolt into it, and, just as the clicker began to lower itself into his leg, Riley shot a bolt through its head.
The clicker slumped over him, dead, and Riley breathed out a sigh of relief.
His relief didn’t last long, however, because the others were closing in on him - and fast. Kicking the infected off of him, Riley brought himself to his feet, before he kicked the dead clicker in the side hard. ”Piece of fucking shit!” he growled, and, in a quick motion, he snatched the bolt out of its head. Panting heavily as he attempted to regain his breath, he moved to the other clicker and snatched the other two bolts out.
The sounds of footsteps had him whirling around to face the next assailant, and he had his finger on the crossbow, ready to shoot -
Only to find out it was Garick.
”Christ, you couldn’t have shown up sooner? Fucking clickers ganging up on me and you’re off fucking around doing God knows what?” he snapped, eyes darting about their surroundings to decide the next best course of action.
Riley’s tone was laced with venom as he spat out the question - though it was said as more of a statement, with every intention to make it clear that the man in front of him was not welcome here. His expression was twisted into a scathing scowl, eyes glaring daggers at the man in front of him. Adam had already knocked once before, and the moment Riley had seen who exactly it was at his front door, he had slammed the door shut in his face. Adam had proceeded to knock again, and again, and again, until finally Riley had practically ripped the door open in frustration. As angry as Riley was, Adam seemed amused more than anything, which only further added to Riley’s frustration. His father had a grin on his face, the same condescending grin he had used throughout most of Riley’s childhood, and the mere sight of it sickened Riley.
”Calm down, kiddo -”
”Don’t call me that.”
”I’m here on business,” Adam continued as if Riley hadn’t interrupted. He took a step closer to Riley, and Riley’s scowl deepened as he stood his ground. He pulled the door further shut, blocking the gap with his body, and he did not dare take his eyes off of Adam. ”Roland sent me. So let me in.” Adam moved forward, as if ready to push past Riley to get into the house, and Riley’s nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol on his father’s breath. With little hesitation, Riley shoved his hands into his father’s chest hard, sending the taller man stumbling back. Adam released a scoff at this, but his lips curled into that same damned grin again as he regained his confident posture.
”I don’t give a fuck who sent you. Get. The fuck. Away. And don’t show your fucking face here again,” Riley hissed, and he spit at Adam’s feet. He took a step back into the house and shoved the door hard, ready to slam it into his father’s face again, but Adam caught the door with his foot.
”You know, Riles -”
”You don’t get to fucking call me that, you piece of shit.”
”This used to be my house. Besides - might wanna think twice before you go against Roland’s orders,” Adam said, once again continuing as though Riley hadn’t interrupted in the first place.
Gritting his teeth, Riley stepped forward abruptly, and he grabbed the front of his father’s shirt as he turned him swiftly, slamming him back against the wall of the house. Riley did not break eye contact as he gripped onto his father’s shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white, and for a moment, Adam did seem surprised. The grin dropped from his face, and his hands flew to Riley’s wrists, wrapping around them and pulling at them in shock.
”I don’t give a flying fuck about Roland. He wants something from me, he can march his bitch ass over here himself. So let me reiterate. Fuck. You." Riley shoved his middle finger into his father's face. "You are not welcome here. This is not your house. You gave that up when you decided to lay your fucking hands on your wife and kids. You can tell Roland he can go fuck himself if he thinks -”
Adam had been relatively tame for the majority of his visit, but Riley knew from experience that his father was prone to snapping without warning. He had done so time and time again throughout his childhood, and so in all reality, Riley wasn’t sure why he anticipated this time to be any different. Adam had swiftly moved out of Riley’s grip, turning Riley so that he was the one pinned against the wall. Riley’s sentence was cut short abruptly as he was slammed hard against the wall of the house, and he swallowed as Adam wrapped a hand tightly around his throat. It wasn’t tight enough to cut off his air, but the sensation of his father’s hand on his throat was still chilling, and Riley could feel the panic welling up within him as he directed his gaze to the floor. Adam’s smile returned to his face as he leaned in close to Riley, breath hot against Riley’s ear. ”Listen carefully, Riley,” he whispered, his grip on Riley’s throat tightening, this time cutting off air. All at once, Riley was that scared little kid again, frozen in fear, and he closed his eyes, unable to will himself to fight back. ”You got a problem, take it up with Roland. I’m just the messenger.” Adam released his grip on Riley’s throat, his hand instead gripping Riley’s chin. Riley reluctantly opened his eyes to face his father as Adam pulled his chin up, forcing him to look at him. ”But don’t forget. Roland basically owns you. I’d hate to see what would happen to my kids if Roland doesn’t get what he wants out of you.”
Riley could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and he averted his gaze again as he pursed his lips, adamant that he wouldn’t let his father see him cry. Defeated, Riley whispered out, ”Fine. What do you want, Dad?”
”Daddy? What are you doing?”
The small voice had Riley flinching, and Riley’s eyes darted up to Adam as his father’s gaze shifted to the front door. If he hadn’t been scared before, he sure as hell was now. Riley couldn’t stop himself from trembling as he said, slowly and steadily, ”Go back inside, Annie.” The child at the door hesitated, her eyes shifting back and forth from Riley to her father, and Adam offered his daughter a gentle smile.
”Hey, sweetie,” he said in a sickeningly sweet voice, and he released Riley to turn fully to Annie. He crouched low so that he was at her level, though he still kept his distance, and Riley stared at the ground, focusing on his breathing as he struggled to remain calm. The last thing he wanted to do was upset his sister, especially in front of him. ”Look at you, you’re getting so big. Can’t believe my little girl is growing up.” Annie looked from Adam to Riley, but Riley did not return her gaze. He simply stared at the ground, struggling to ignore the sickening sensation of his stomach twisting in knots.
Annie’s lips twitched into a small smile as she took a step forward. ”Are you here to visit?” Riley could hear the excitement in her voice, and it hurt more than he’d ever lead on. The last thing Annie should have been excited over was the piece of shit that was their father - but here she was, smile growing at the prospect of seeing her father again.
”Not today, sweetie.”
Frowning, Annie dropped her gaze to the ground. ”Oh.”
Adam extended an arm out to his daughter, smiling again at her as he gestured her to come to him. ”Hey, come here, come give me a hug.” Cautiously, Annie stepped forward, and Adam gestured her to come to him again. Finally, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her small arms around her father’s shoulders. Adam closed his arms around her and scooped her up, hoisting her into his arms as he stood. ”Tell you what. I’ll come spend the day with you guys soon, okay? But I can’t today, so you gotta be patient. But if you be good - maybe I’ll bring you a surprise next time, okay? Sound good?” Annie perked up at this, and, grinning ear to ear, she nodded in agreement. ”Great!” He lowered Annie to the ground, and he gave her one last hug before he released her. ”Thanks for the hugs, kiddo. You wanna run inside now so Riley and I can talk? Don’t forget our deal, though, okay?” Once again, Annie eagerly nodded.
”Okay! I’ll see you soon, Daddy!” Looking to her father one last time, Annie turned and began inside.
”Shut the door behind you,” Adam called after her, to which she obliged. As soon as the door shut, Adam turned to Riley, maintaining the relaxed, friendly demeanor he had used with Annie. He pulled Riley in close, and Riley’s skin crawled as his father wrapped an arm around his shoulder. ”You know, she’s a sweet kid. I’d really hate to see something happen to her. Honestly. But -”
”What do you want from me, Dad?” Riley snapped, voice breaking up as he choked out the words. ”I get it. I do. Just - tell me what Roland wants already. Please,” Riley flinched at the word - he hated that word - but he found himself using it often with his father. ”I’ll do whatever he wants, okay? Just leave her out of it.”
”Knew you weren’t as stupid as you look.” Adam reached into his jacket pocket, shuffling through it before he pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it to reveal hastily scribbled words, and he handed it to Riley. Hands trembling, Riley took the paper, eyes scanning the words. It was a list of supplies, nothing out of the ordinary, and Riley swallowed as he averted his gaze to the ground again. ”Make sure you get it all. Drop it off at the prison when you get back.” Adam finally released Riley, and Riley gasped in relief as Adam finally stepped back, allowing some distance. ”See, Riley? All that anger over nothing. I could have come in, we could have made some drinks, had fun. But you had to do this. I think you owe me an apology.”
Riley’s brows furrowed, and he looked back up to his dad.
”What? I - no - you came to my house and threatened -”
Adam stepped forward abruptly, and Riley flinched hard as he stepped back, pressing himself against the wall again and turning his face from his father. Adam didn’t raise a hand to him, nor did he touch him again, but Riley still held his breath nonetheless. ”You are my son, and you will talk to me with respect. So look at me. And apologize.”
Breathing in deeply, Riley turned to face his father again. He stared at his father for a long moment, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he struggled to come up with the words, until finally, he forced himself to speak, face burning red in humiliation. ”I’m sorry. I'm sorry, okay? You - you didn’t deserve that. So - I’m sorry.”
”Apology accepted. Maybe if you used that head of yours,” Adam stepped forward abruptly again, fingers tapping hard against the side of Riley’s head, and Riley flinched as he hissed out a breath of pain, ”We wouldn’t have this problem. So think about that next time.” Satisfied, Adam turned from Riley and began to walk down the sidewalk, and Riley struggled to hold it together long enough for Adam to leave. Adam did not, however - not yet. He stopped, and, turning to face Riley one last time, said, ”And Riley? Wipe those tears from your face. You’re fucking pathetic, and it’s embarrassing.” Adam turned and held up his hand in a brief wave. ”See ya later, kid.”
Riley hardly held it together long enough. As soon as Adam was out of sight, he gasped out an audible breath, unable to stop the flow of tears. Back pressed to the wall behind him, Riley slid to the ground, knees pulled in close, and he hung his head as he sobbed.
---
Riley hadn’t said much since he, Garick, and Embry had left the quarantine zone. If he were being honest, he knew he really wasn’t in the proper state to go on a smuggling trip. Their lives were at stake every second they were outside of the zone, and outside, of all places, he needed to focus - but he found that to be much easier said than done. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, his mind eventually wandered to the events of the other day. It was all he had thought about from the moment it had happened to when he and the others had left that morning.
It was the first time in a long time that Riley and Adam had faced each other off, and no matter how much Riley would have liked to say that his father no longer scared him, he couldn’t. His presence alone was terrifying, but even more so was his threats. He wanted to believe that Adam loved his children, that he’d never in a million years allow Roland to bring any harm to his siblings… but he knew deep down that it wasn’t so.
Adam was a monster, and Riley knew from experience that he had no problem hurting his kids for any number of reasons.
Riley was pulled out of his thoughts suddenly as he glanced up from the ground he had focused on, only to realize that the others were a good bit ahead of him. It wasn’t surprising; they were quite a bit taller than he was, and he always found himself lagging behind the others because of it. Still, he released a frustrated sigh as he picked up his own pace a bit. ”Hey, guys?” he called out, ”Do you think you could slow -”
The sound to his right had him cutting that sentence short, and Riley abruptly whirled to face the source of the sound, crossbow in hand. He didn’t see anything; the foliage in the woods was thick, and it was difficult to make out much of anything, but wooded areas were generally safer than towns and cities. Wooded areas made it less likely to encounter infected and survivors, but it wasn’t unheard of to encounter either. Still, the sound could have been anything - it was likely just an animal moving past a bush.
It didn’t stop his eyes from scanning the area suspiciously, crossbow ready to shoot.
After a few moments of silence, Riley reluctantly began to lower his crossbow, and he spared a last glance before he turned to face the others again. Swallowing, he began to move forward again to try to close the gap between himself and the others.
The clicking was unmistakable, this time to his left, and Riley once again whirled to face it. He shot the crossbow, but it was too late. The bolt hit it, but not fatally, burying itself into its arm, and Riley cursed as he quickly reached for a second bolt. He reloaded and shot again, and this time, the bolt shot through its head, sending the clicker to the ground, dead. ”What the fu-”
He was cut off by the sound of another growl, this time behind him, but it was too late. He turned to face the second clicker, but before he could reload the crossbow in time, the infected swung its arm out, knocking the crossbow out of his hands and sending it skidding across the ground. The clicker quickly grabbed at him, its fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, and it moved forward fast, snapping its jaws at him in a desperate attempt to bite him. Riley stumbled backwards, struggling to hold the infected back, and in the process he lost his footing, sending him sprawling to the ground with the clicker on top of him. ”God dammit, get the fuck off of me!” Riley screamed, his arm barely managing to hold the infected back. The creature was dangerously close, its teeth inches from Riley’s face, and Riley gritted his teeth tightly as the rancid stench of its breath emanated towards him.
The sounds of similar clicks came in unison, and Riley’s head jerked as he struggled to figure out where the sounds were coming from - before he realized they were coming from everywhere. The clickers were surrounding them from all angles, closing in on them quickly, and Riley growled in frustration at this realization. ”FUCK!”
Grunting, he pulled his knee under the infected’s body, Riley shoved it forward with his foot hard, sending it back. The clicker was thrown back quickly, and Riley took the opportunity to pull himself forward along the ground, not wasting the time to stand. The clicker followed close behind him, its fingers gripping onto Riley’s shoe, pulling him back as Riley’s fingers brushed against the crossbow. He kicked at the infected hard, but it wouldn’t budge; it had a tight grip on him, and it was strong, desperately trying to pull him towards its snapping jaws as the others closed in on them. His fingers brushed against the crossbow again, and he grunted as he desperately reached for it, before finally snatching the crossbow. Crossbow in hand, Riley’s trembling hands loaded a bolt into it, and, just as the clicker began to lower itself into his leg, Riley shot a bolt through its head.
The clicker slumped over him, dead, and Riley breathed out a sigh of relief.
His relief didn’t last long, however, because the others were closing in on him - and fast. Kicking the infected off of him, Riley brought himself to his feet, before he kicked the dead clicker in the side hard. ”Piece of fucking shit!” he growled, and, in a quick motion, he snatched the bolt out of its head. Panting heavily as he attempted to regain his breath, he moved to the other clicker and snatched the other two bolts out.
The sounds of footsteps had him whirling around to face the next assailant, and he had his finger on the crossbow, ready to shoot -
Only to find out it was Garick.
”Christ, you couldn’t have shown up sooner? Fucking clickers ganging up on me and you’re off fucking around doing God knows what?” he snapped, eyes darting about their surroundings to decide the next best course of action.
donutdothis
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To be honest completely honest, Sam would have rather been anywhere but here.
He was never quite fond of the outings Anthony occasionally sent him on. It was always a bit too messy for him, and although he never would have admitted it, Sam could not help but feel a twinge of guilt every time he looked at the faces of those Anthony ordered to be killed. He knew it was for the best, or at least, he told himself that it was. Anthony had made it clear time and time again that what they were doing was for the good of mankind, and that had been ingrained into Sam’s mind long ago. He was far past the point of questioning Anthony’s antics, but it still did not change the fact that each and every time he took in the sight of a mangled corpse attached to a cross or a petrified sinner being dragged to their doom, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sick to his stomach. It was a messy, bloody job and Sam never felt right for days after returning from these sorts of jobs. He would have rather stayed home to attend to various members of Eden’s Gate who needed medical attention, but today was a slow day for such a thing; the doctor had it all taken care of without Sam’s help and, well, duty called. Anthony had come to Sam earlier that morning and had announced that he had an important job for Sam.
He knew that Eden’s Gate had recently formed plans to take over the Chicago Quarantine Zone, but he hadn’t anticipated on taking part of it. Not that he was opposed. It was for the good of Eden’s Gate, and Sam would have done anything for his community without question. Anthony had sent Sam alongside Christina Wilson, Hank Hillock, Emil Hermeus, and Shawn Harrington - though Shawn was still a child, Anthony had claimed that thirteen was by far old enough to be contributing and had thus sent Shawn along with them. Shawn had begrudgingly agreed to go along but Sam, of course, had accepted without question - and really, part of him couldn’t help but feel relieved that Shawn would be in his company today. This sort of job really was quite unbearable, and Hank, being the intolerable person he was, made it much worse than it had to be. Sam would have liked to say that he was comfortable being around Christina, but their relationship had gotten distant and awkward since they had arrived to Eden’s Gate, and now he felt uncomfortable around her more than anything. Shawn’s presence made up for all of that - he just hated having to expose Shawn to such things.
Sam had no doubt in his mind that Shawn was equally as unenthusiastic about the job as he was - if not more.
They had been gone from Eden’s Gate for a few hours now, having left earlier that morning, and most of their time had been spent in the truck, with Sam in the driver’s seat, Shawn in the passenger seat, and a small group of infected in the caged trunk bed - Hank, Christina, and Emil had been nearby in separate cars, scouring for survivors from the quarantine zone. So far, the day had been relatively uneventful; Sam had not spotted a single survivor and neither had his partners, so the past few hours had been mostly spent driving. The day had been uncharacteristically quiet, as well; Sam had once liked to play music on long car rides and part of him still would have liked to, but Anthony had made it clear that he considered most music to be sinful, and thus prohibited most of it. It didn’t help that Shawn had been quiet as well. Sam had tried to spark up conversations during the first couple of hours, but Shawn hadn’t seemed to be too invested in any of them, and ultimately, Sam had given up on trying to keep a conversation going with the younger boy.
He couldn’t help but be a bit worried about Shawn, really. Sam briefly took his eyes off of the road to glance at Shawn; the boy was staring out of the window, watching the scenery pass by as they drove, and Sam’s lips pursed tightly in concern as he returned his eyes to the road ahead. He hated this. Part of Sam wondered if Anthony enjoyed the idea of sending Shawn out on a job like this, if Anthony knew about Shawn’s reluctance and disgust whenever it came to more morbid jobs - but did so anyways.
Not that he’d dare to ask.
Clearing his throat, Sam sat up straight from the relaxed position he had been driving in, and he spared another glance to Shawn as he forced himself to smile while he spoke. ”Hey,” he began, pausing and wetting his lips as he considered what to say. ”You’ve been kinda quiet - how are you holding up?” Shawn did not answer, and the smile slowly faltered and Sam shook his head, his eyes wandering to the side of the road. ”Look, I know you don’t really enjoy this. If I’m being honest… I kinda don’t either. This kind of job really isn’t my thing, you know?” Sam paused again, and nervously, he released his left hand from the steering wheel and allowed it to rest on the rolled-down window of the car instead, before he sighed deeply and continued to speak. ”I’m sorry, Shawn. I tried to tell Anthony we’d be fine on our own but he insisted you come with us. Said you need to start learning responsibility, whatever that means.” Pausing briefly to chew on his lip, Sam’s fingers began tapping against the steering wheel, and he forced himself to smile as he glanced at Shawn. ”I mean, if you ask me you’re one of the most responsible kids I’ve ever met but - Anthony is… Anthony, I guess. So… I’m just really sorry.”
Huffing out a deep sigh, Shawn repositioned himself in his seat, but did not spare Sam a glance as he muttered under his breath, ”Yeah. It’s fine.” The response had Sam’s heart aching, because such a lifestyle was far from good for anyone - let alone a thirteen year old - but Sam did not voice this, and instead simply pursed his lips as he focused on driving.
---
Silence had once again befallen the two and Sam lazily rested his face on the back of his hand, his elbow resting on the car door as he drove. He had heard from Emil on their radios moments ago, detailing that Emil had located survivors from the quarantine zone, which meant that they might have actually been successful today. As much as he wanted to stay in the truck, he and the others needed to put their plans in action, and so Sam begrudgingly turned the wheel, taking the truck off of the main road and into a more wooded area. He parked it behind the treeline - a safety precaution he took every time he left the truck, to avoid having any potential nearby scavengers witness the truck. It wasn’t totally out of sight, but it was far less noticeable behind the treeline than it would have been otherwise. There was a long pause on Sam’s part as he sat there in silence for a moment, thumbs nervously tapping against the steering wheel, before finally Sam turned to face Shawn.
”So, Shawn… Do you want to wait in the truck?” he asked, offering the other boy a friendly smile. ”I know Anthony sent all three of us out but - you know, I think Hank and I have it handled on our own? You look like you need a break from everything anyways. I’m sure Hank won’t mind. Or, well, uh… maybe he will but - doesn’t matter.” Shawn seemed to perk up slightly at the suggestion - the first happiness Sam had seen in him all day - but even that faded off quickly as he began to speak.
”But what about Anthony?”
He hated the tone in Shawn’s voice - so tense and fearful - and yet he couldn’t blame him for sounding as apprehensive as he had. Anthony was an intimidating person, and Sam knew that better than most. There was a brief hesitation on Sam’s part, before finally he shrugged and forced himself to smile yet again. ”It’s fine, we don’t have to tell Anthony. I don’t think it’s a sin for you to wait in the truck while we -”
The tapping on the driver's side window of the truck nearly had Sam screaming, and he turned to face the window, eyes wide. Hank was standing outside, scowl decorating his face as he gestured for Sam to come out. Sam stifled an eye roll. ”Why is he so impatient…” he drawled, and Sam briefly rested his face in his hand as he released a quiet sigh. ”Okay. I’ll be back in a while, so just sit tight okay? Don't leave the truck.” With that, Sam lightly ruffled Shawn's hair in a friendly gesture before he opened the door to the truck and exited the vehicle.
”Dang it, Sam, took you long enough.”
Sam forced a friendly smile as he came face to face with Hank, who at this point had exited the truck bed and had come around to the front of the car. Okay, so maybe Sam really, really wasn’t fond of Hank, but still, it didn’t hurt to be nice. Even if Hank never returned the favor. Sam spared an awkward glance at Christina, before he turned his attention back to Hank.
”I - yeah - I was talking to -”
”Why’s the kid not getting out? That boy ain't right, I tell you h'what. He too good for this?”
Yeah, actually. He is, Sam thought to himself, and it took everything he had in him to maintain the pleasant smile as he began to pass by Hank on his way to the back of the truck. He quickly began to fiddle with the padlock of the cage to unlock it. ”I’m going to remind you that Shawn is my little brother and I would appreciate it if you didn’t suggest that there’s something wrong with him. He’s not feeling well, so I told him he can wait in the truck. We can handle it, can’t we, Chris?” Sam glanced at Christina, expression begging her to help him calm Hank down, but Hank interrupted.
”I didn’t say we couldn’t handle it, I’m just saying, doesn’t seem fair that we have to do all the work while he gets to sit there twiddling his thumbs. You seriously don’t have a problem with that? Also, get a grip, he’s not your brother, he’s just some kid -”
Sam’s lips twitched out of the smile and pursed tightly as he turned to face Hank, which caught Hank off guard enough to interrupt him mid sentence, and Sam shrugged his shoulders as he shook his head. It wasn’t a particularly harsh gesture, but still, it was a bit uncharacteristic of him to react in such a manner - but it couldn’t be helped. Hank was eating away at his last nerve and the last thing Sam wanted was to stand there listening to Hank tear down Shawn.
”I don’t think you have the authority to dictate what Shawn is or isn’t to me, Hank. And you know what,” he began calmly, and he forced himself to smile again, ”Compassion really goes a long way. Shawn isn’t feeling so great and we can do it on our own no problem, so let’s just drop it. So can you help me please?” Without another word, Sam turned back to the truck and took the padlock off of the cage. Hank muttered something under his breath and Sam shot a quick look to the older man, but without further arguments Hank moved forward to help Sam.
---
It took a bit for them to set the trap in place, but they had managed just in time. The quarantine zone citizens they had spotted were just passing through the woods as the three had finished up, and everything had seemed to work out well. None of the survivors had gotten infected, and one of them had gotten separated from the others - Emil had quickly gone to confront him. The two remaining appeared to be struggling due to the sheer amount of infected surrounding them - which was a perfect opportunity for them to intervene. Sam inhaled a deep breath as he turned to face Christina and Hank.
”No better time than now.”
Without another word, Sam took out his pistol and stepped out of the treeline. He did not hesitate to aim at one of the infected, and he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through its head and catching the attention of the two survivors. ”Looks like you two need some help,” he commented in a nonchalant, friendly tone, and he quickly aimed his gun at another infected.
He was never quite fond of the outings Anthony occasionally sent him on. It was always a bit too messy for him, and although he never would have admitted it, Sam could not help but feel a twinge of guilt every time he looked at the faces of those Anthony ordered to be killed. He knew it was for the best, or at least, he told himself that it was. Anthony had made it clear time and time again that what they were doing was for the good of mankind, and that had been ingrained into Sam’s mind long ago. He was far past the point of questioning Anthony’s antics, but it still did not change the fact that each and every time he took in the sight of a mangled corpse attached to a cross or a petrified sinner being dragged to their doom, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sick to his stomach. It was a messy, bloody job and Sam never felt right for days after returning from these sorts of jobs. He would have rather stayed home to attend to various members of Eden’s Gate who needed medical attention, but today was a slow day for such a thing; the doctor had it all taken care of without Sam’s help and, well, duty called. Anthony had come to Sam earlier that morning and had announced that he had an important job for Sam.
He knew that Eden’s Gate had recently formed plans to take over the Chicago Quarantine Zone, but he hadn’t anticipated on taking part of it. Not that he was opposed. It was for the good of Eden’s Gate, and Sam would have done anything for his community without question. Anthony had sent Sam alongside Christina Wilson, Hank Hillock, Emil Hermeus, and Shawn Harrington - though Shawn was still a child, Anthony had claimed that thirteen was by far old enough to be contributing and had thus sent Shawn along with them. Shawn had begrudgingly agreed to go along but Sam, of course, had accepted without question - and really, part of him couldn’t help but feel relieved that Shawn would be in his company today. This sort of job really was quite unbearable, and Hank, being the intolerable person he was, made it much worse than it had to be. Sam would have liked to say that he was comfortable being around Christina, but their relationship had gotten distant and awkward since they had arrived to Eden’s Gate, and now he felt uncomfortable around her more than anything. Shawn’s presence made up for all of that - he just hated having to expose Shawn to such things.
Sam had no doubt in his mind that Shawn was equally as unenthusiastic about the job as he was - if not more.
They had been gone from Eden’s Gate for a few hours now, having left earlier that morning, and most of their time had been spent in the truck, with Sam in the driver’s seat, Shawn in the passenger seat, and a small group of infected in the caged trunk bed - Hank, Christina, and Emil had been nearby in separate cars, scouring for survivors from the quarantine zone. So far, the day had been relatively uneventful; Sam had not spotted a single survivor and neither had his partners, so the past few hours had been mostly spent driving. The day had been uncharacteristically quiet, as well; Sam had once liked to play music on long car rides and part of him still would have liked to, but Anthony had made it clear that he considered most music to be sinful, and thus prohibited most of it. It didn’t help that Shawn had been quiet as well. Sam had tried to spark up conversations during the first couple of hours, but Shawn hadn’t seemed to be too invested in any of them, and ultimately, Sam had given up on trying to keep a conversation going with the younger boy.
He couldn’t help but be a bit worried about Shawn, really. Sam briefly took his eyes off of the road to glance at Shawn; the boy was staring out of the window, watching the scenery pass by as they drove, and Sam’s lips pursed tightly in concern as he returned his eyes to the road ahead. He hated this. Part of Sam wondered if Anthony enjoyed the idea of sending Shawn out on a job like this, if Anthony knew about Shawn’s reluctance and disgust whenever it came to more morbid jobs - but did so anyways.
Not that he’d dare to ask.
Clearing his throat, Sam sat up straight from the relaxed position he had been driving in, and he spared another glance to Shawn as he forced himself to smile while he spoke. ”Hey,” he began, pausing and wetting his lips as he considered what to say. ”You’ve been kinda quiet - how are you holding up?” Shawn did not answer, and the smile slowly faltered and Sam shook his head, his eyes wandering to the side of the road. ”Look, I know you don’t really enjoy this. If I’m being honest… I kinda don’t either. This kind of job really isn’t my thing, you know?” Sam paused again, and nervously, he released his left hand from the steering wheel and allowed it to rest on the rolled-down window of the car instead, before he sighed deeply and continued to speak. ”I’m sorry, Shawn. I tried to tell Anthony we’d be fine on our own but he insisted you come with us. Said you need to start learning responsibility, whatever that means.” Pausing briefly to chew on his lip, Sam’s fingers began tapping against the steering wheel, and he forced himself to smile as he glanced at Shawn. ”I mean, if you ask me you’re one of the most responsible kids I’ve ever met but - Anthony is… Anthony, I guess. So… I’m just really sorry.”
Huffing out a deep sigh, Shawn repositioned himself in his seat, but did not spare Sam a glance as he muttered under his breath, ”Yeah. It’s fine.” The response had Sam’s heart aching, because such a lifestyle was far from good for anyone - let alone a thirteen year old - but Sam did not voice this, and instead simply pursed his lips as he focused on driving.
---
Silence had once again befallen the two and Sam lazily rested his face on the back of his hand, his elbow resting on the car door as he drove. He had heard from Emil on their radios moments ago, detailing that Emil had located survivors from the quarantine zone, which meant that they might have actually been successful today. As much as he wanted to stay in the truck, he and the others needed to put their plans in action, and so Sam begrudgingly turned the wheel, taking the truck off of the main road and into a more wooded area. He parked it behind the treeline - a safety precaution he took every time he left the truck, to avoid having any potential nearby scavengers witness the truck. It wasn’t totally out of sight, but it was far less noticeable behind the treeline than it would have been otherwise. There was a long pause on Sam’s part as he sat there in silence for a moment, thumbs nervously tapping against the steering wheel, before finally Sam turned to face Shawn.
”So, Shawn… Do you want to wait in the truck?” he asked, offering the other boy a friendly smile. ”I know Anthony sent all three of us out but - you know, I think Hank and I have it handled on our own? You look like you need a break from everything anyways. I’m sure Hank won’t mind. Or, well, uh… maybe he will but - doesn’t matter.” Shawn seemed to perk up slightly at the suggestion - the first happiness Sam had seen in him all day - but even that faded off quickly as he began to speak.
”But what about Anthony?”
He hated the tone in Shawn’s voice - so tense and fearful - and yet he couldn’t blame him for sounding as apprehensive as he had. Anthony was an intimidating person, and Sam knew that better than most. There was a brief hesitation on Sam’s part, before finally he shrugged and forced himself to smile yet again. ”It’s fine, we don’t have to tell Anthony. I don’t think it’s a sin for you to wait in the truck while we -”
The tapping on the driver's side window of the truck nearly had Sam screaming, and he turned to face the window, eyes wide. Hank was standing outside, scowl decorating his face as he gestured for Sam to come out. Sam stifled an eye roll. ”Why is he so impatient…” he drawled, and Sam briefly rested his face in his hand as he released a quiet sigh. ”Okay. I’ll be back in a while, so just sit tight okay? Don't leave the truck.” With that, Sam lightly ruffled Shawn's hair in a friendly gesture before he opened the door to the truck and exited the vehicle.
”Dang it, Sam, took you long enough.”
Sam forced a friendly smile as he came face to face with Hank, who at this point had exited the truck bed and had come around to the front of the car. Okay, so maybe Sam really, really wasn’t fond of Hank, but still, it didn’t hurt to be nice. Even if Hank never returned the favor. Sam spared an awkward glance at Christina, before he turned his attention back to Hank.
”I - yeah - I was talking to -”
”Why’s the kid not getting out? That boy ain't right, I tell you h'what. He too good for this?”
Yeah, actually. He is, Sam thought to himself, and it took everything he had in him to maintain the pleasant smile as he began to pass by Hank on his way to the back of the truck. He quickly began to fiddle with the padlock of the cage to unlock it. ”I’m going to remind you that Shawn is my little brother and I would appreciate it if you didn’t suggest that there’s something wrong with him. He’s not feeling well, so I told him he can wait in the truck. We can handle it, can’t we, Chris?” Sam glanced at Christina, expression begging her to help him calm Hank down, but Hank interrupted.
”I didn’t say we couldn’t handle it, I’m just saying, doesn’t seem fair that we have to do all the work while he gets to sit there twiddling his thumbs. You seriously don’t have a problem with that? Also, get a grip, he’s not your brother, he’s just some kid -”
Sam’s lips twitched out of the smile and pursed tightly as he turned to face Hank, which caught Hank off guard enough to interrupt him mid sentence, and Sam shrugged his shoulders as he shook his head. It wasn’t a particularly harsh gesture, but still, it was a bit uncharacteristic of him to react in such a manner - but it couldn’t be helped. Hank was eating away at his last nerve and the last thing Sam wanted was to stand there listening to Hank tear down Shawn.
”I don’t think you have the authority to dictate what Shawn is or isn’t to me, Hank. And you know what,” he began calmly, and he forced himself to smile again, ”Compassion really goes a long way. Shawn isn’t feeling so great and we can do it on our own no problem, so let’s just drop it. So can you help me please?” Without another word, Sam turned back to the truck and took the padlock off of the cage. Hank muttered something under his breath and Sam shot a quick look to the older man, but without further arguments Hank moved forward to help Sam.
---
It took a bit for them to set the trap in place, but they had managed just in time. The quarantine zone citizens they had spotted were just passing through the woods as the three had finished up, and everything had seemed to work out well. None of the survivors had gotten infected, and one of them had gotten separated from the others - Emil had quickly gone to confront him. The two remaining appeared to be struggling due to the sheer amount of infected surrounding them - which was a perfect opportunity for them to intervene. Sam inhaled a deep breath as he turned to face Christina and Hank.
”No better time than now.”
Without another word, Sam took out his pistol and stepped out of the treeline. He did not hesitate to aim at one of the infected, and he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through its head and catching the attention of the two survivors. ”Looks like you two need some help,” he commented in a nonchalant, friendly tone, and he quickly aimed his gun at another infected.
donutdothis
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It had been days since Remy had last seen Max. He had agreed to drop Rosemary off at Max’s cell later that night after Max had confronted him, but when he had come by with Rosemary, Max’s cell had been empty. Remy hadn’t seen him around the prison either, though that was intentional. On the security cameras he had seen Max coming in and out of the prison, and although there was a part of Remy that had wanted to try to reconcile whatever had gone wrong with Max, he had ultimately decided it was best to leave things be. After all, Max had made it clear he no longer trusted Remy. It stung like a knife cutting into his skin, but Max didn’t trust anymore, and Remy couldn’t change that.
Still, as much as he tried not to think about the entire situation, the thoughts of Max were pervasive, slipping into his mind, occupying his thoughts, keeping him awake at night. Rosemary had noticed the state Remy was in, and she had spent most of her time the past few days at his side, nudging her nose into his hand, trying to distract him. Hell, even Roman had noticed something was wrong. Roman hadn’t really known of Remy’s friendship with Max up until two days after the incident; after Remy had skipped eating yet another meal with Roman, Roman had come into his cell, and after some pressure, Remy had confessed that he and Max had had a falling out. He hadn’t said what, specifically, the conversation had been about, but Roman had at least briefly listened to what Remy had to say, before he had exited the cell.
His routine the past few days had been the same. Remy had hardly done much; most of his time had been spent in his cell with Rosemary, music playing softly in the background as he worked on puzzles on his own. Today had been the same, albeit even less productive. He hadn’t left his bed that day, not even to get something to eat; his unfinished puzzle from last night still remained on the floor, and his stomach ached fiercely in hunger, but eating was the last thing on his mind right now.
He could hear the cheers of the audience, again, echoing throughout his cell like a thunderstorm. Nothing could fully drown out the sounds, not his music turned up as loud as it would go, not his hands covering his ears. It was maddening.
There was a movement on one of the monitors in his room, and Remy’s eyes moved from the wall he had been staring into space at to the screen. He sat up, brows furrowing in curiosity as he leaned forward to inspect the camera feed; there were two men, armed, in one of the restricted areas of the prison. Usually, Roman alerted Remy whenever he had guys in off limits areas, but Remy had heard nothing about it, so this was definitely suspicious. To be honest, Remy half considered letting it happen, if only because the last thing he wanted right now was to enter the arena to find Roman, but he also knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t alert Roman. Exhaling an exasperated sigh, Remy flung his blanket off of him and stood. Rosemary, too, stood, releasing an inquisitive whine, but Remy said, firmly, ”Sit, Rosemary,” as he exited his cell.
The roar of the audience was even more deafening as Remy neared, and he had to stop for a moment, inhaling a deep breath as he stared, wide eyed at the entrance. He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to go. It’d be a few moments, long enough for him to get in, tell Roman what he had seen, and get out - just like that, it’d be over… but Remy felt nauseous, and his hands shook, and he wanted to go back and lay down in his bed until the fight was over. Lips twitching, he shook his head and moved forward, entering into the arena. Remy had told himself that he wasn’t going to watch the fight, not even for a second, because the sight of the blood and the cries of pain sent shudders down his spine, but his eyes were drawn to the sight anyways.
Remy froze in his tracks, blue eyes wide at what he saw.
Max. Max, the boy he had come to know better than almost anyone in this damn prison, was being mercilessly kicked in the stomach. Max, the only person Remy looked forward to spending time with, was on the ground, gasping and wheezing for breath. Max, who was far too good for this prison, the boy who deserved the entire fucking world, was sobbing and pleading Dexter St. Valens, perhaps the only person he trusted in this prison, to spare his life, as Dexter’s hands brutally slammed into Max’s face. Remy moved abruptly, shoving hard past the crowds gathered around the fight. Roman saw him coming before Remy had said a word, and he shifted in his seat, interlacing his fingers and smiling to his little brother.
“Ahhh, Remy, so nice of you to join -”
“Stop the fight.” Remy’s tone was harsh and short, and Roman was momentarily taken aback. Remy could see the shock in his expression, but Roman quickly played it off, his sly smile returning as he straightened his posture.
“Why on Earth would I do that?” Roman said nonchalantly, tilting his head slightly up at his brother. Remy breathed out deeply, eyes widening slightly as he stood his ground.
”Roman. I am telling you now to stop the fight. End it. Now.”
”And what position are you in to make demands, Remy? I’ve done you a favor. I thought you’d be pleased to know I took care of your problem -”
Remy stepped forward abruptly, hand flying to the belt holster holding his knife. His fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the blade, grip knuckle white, as his lips twitched. His hand shook violently as he stared at Roman, heart pounding rapidly. ”I swear to you, Romanus, that if Max does not come out of this alive, you will regret it. For the rest of your miserable life, you will regret it. End. the. fight.”
Roman stared at Remy for a moment, smile gone from his face and replaced by an intense, blank stare, until finally, he stood. Remy’s eyes followed Roman’s, and he stood his ground as Roman stepped forward, hovering over him. Roman stared down at Remy, expressionless and silent, before finally, a gloved hand raised. ”Stop.” His voice was loud, echoing over the cheers of the audience, ushering them into silence as all eyes turned on them. Roman finally broke eye contact at that, and he stepped forward, hands grabbing the railing of the second floor as he stared down at Dexter and Max. ”Dexter. You are dismissed.”
Roman turned, eyeing Katherine, one of the medics that attended to these fights. ”Katherine. Attend to Max’s wounds.” Katherine nodded and quickly went off down the stairs, rushing to Max’s aide. Roman turned to face Remy again, silent, staring down at Remy with that same blank yet ferocious expression. Remy’s eyes lingered on his brother momentarily, before he finally shook his head and followed after Katherine down the stairs to help with Max.
As he stepped off of the bottom stair onto the ground level, Remy came face to face with Dexter St. Valens. At first, Remy had intended on slipping past Dexter without a word, but something in him snapped as he moved past the other boy, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand shot out, wrapping around Dex’s arm to stop the other man in his tracks. Remy turned, eyeing Dex up and down, before finally his eyes settled on Dex’s. “If you ever touch Max again, it will be the last thing you do.” Remy’s lips shifted into a small, mocking smile, before finally he released Dex and moved forward, into the arena to attend to Max.
Still, as much as he tried not to think about the entire situation, the thoughts of Max were pervasive, slipping into his mind, occupying his thoughts, keeping him awake at night. Rosemary had noticed the state Remy was in, and she had spent most of her time the past few days at his side, nudging her nose into his hand, trying to distract him. Hell, even Roman had noticed something was wrong. Roman hadn’t really known of Remy’s friendship with Max up until two days after the incident; after Remy had skipped eating yet another meal with Roman, Roman had come into his cell, and after some pressure, Remy had confessed that he and Max had had a falling out. He hadn’t said what, specifically, the conversation had been about, but Roman had at least briefly listened to what Remy had to say, before he had exited the cell.
His routine the past few days had been the same. Remy had hardly done much; most of his time had been spent in his cell with Rosemary, music playing softly in the background as he worked on puzzles on his own. Today had been the same, albeit even less productive. He hadn’t left his bed that day, not even to get something to eat; his unfinished puzzle from last night still remained on the floor, and his stomach ached fiercely in hunger, but eating was the last thing on his mind right now.
He could hear the cheers of the audience, again, echoing throughout his cell like a thunderstorm. Nothing could fully drown out the sounds, not his music turned up as loud as it would go, not his hands covering his ears. It was maddening.
There was a movement on one of the monitors in his room, and Remy’s eyes moved from the wall he had been staring into space at to the screen. He sat up, brows furrowing in curiosity as he leaned forward to inspect the camera feed; there were two men, armed, in one of the restricted areas of the prison. Usually, Roman alerted Remy whenever he had guys in off limits areas, but Remy had heard nothing about it, so this was definitely suspicious. To be honest, Remy half considered letting it happen, if only because the last thing he wanted right now was to enter the arena to find Roman, but he also knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t alert Roman. Exhaling an exasperated sigh, Remy flung his blanket off of him and stood. Rosemary, too, stood, releasing an inquisitive whine, but Remy said, firmly, ”Sit, Rosemary,” as he exited his cell.
The roar of the audience was even more deafening as Remy neared, and he had to stop for a moment, inhaling a deep breath as he stared, wide eyed at the entrance. He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to go. It’d be a few moments, long enough for him to get in, tell Roman what he had seen, and get out - just like that, it’d be over… but Remy felt nauseous, and his hands shook, and he wanted to go back and lay down in his bed until the fight was over. Lips twitching, he shook his head and moved forward, entering into the arena. Remy had told himself that he wasn’t going to watch the fight, not even for a second, because the sight of the blood and the cries of pain sent shudders down his spine, but his eyes were drawn to the sight anyways.
Remy froze in his tracks, blue eyes wide at what he saw.
Max. Max, the boy he had come to know better than almost anyone in this damn prison, was being mercilessly kicked in the stomach. Max, the only person Remy looked forward to spending time with, was on the ground, gasping and wheezing for breath. Max, who was far too good for this prison, the boy who deserved the entire fucking world, was sobbing and pleading Dexter St. Valens, perhaps the only person he trusted in this prison, to spare his life, as Dexter’s hands brutally slammed into Max’s face. Remy moved abruptly, shoving hard past the crowds gathered around the fight. Roman saw him coming before Remy had said a word, and he shifted in his seat, interlacing his fingers and smiling to his little brother.
“Ahhh, Remy, so nice of you to join -”
“Stop the fight.” Remy’s tone was harsh and short, and Roman was momentarily taken aback. Remy could see the shock in his expression, but Roman quickly played it off, his sly smile returning as he straightened his posture.
“Why on Earth would I do that?” Roman said nonchalantly, tilting his head slightly up at his brother. Remy breathed out deeply, eyes widening slightly as he stood his ground.
”Roman. I am telling you now to stop the fight. End it. Now.”
”And what position are you in to make demands, Remy? I’ve done you a favor. I thought you’d be pleased to know I took care of your problem -”
Remy stepped forward abruptly, hand flying to the belt holster holding his knife. His fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the blade, grip knuckle white, as his lips twitched. His hand shook violently as he stared at Roman, heart pounding rapidly. ”I swear to you, Romanus, that if Max does not come out of this alive, you will regret it. For the rest of your miserable life, you will regret it. End. the. fight.”
Roman stared at Remy for a moment, smile gone from his face and replaced by an intense, blank stare, until finally, he stood. Remy’s eyes followed Roman’s, and he stood his ground as Roman stepped forward, hovering over him. Roman stared down at Remy, expressionless and silent, before finally, a gloved hand raised. ”Stop.” His voice was loud, echoing over the cheers of the audience, ushering them into silence as all eyes turned on them. Roman finally broke eye contact at that, and he stepped forward, hands grabbing the railing of the second floor as he stared down at Dexter and Max. ”Dexter. You are dismissed.”
Roman turned, eyeing Katherine, one of the medics that attended to these fights. ”Katherine. Attend to Max’s wounds.” Katherine nodded and quickly went off down the stairs, rushing to Max’s aide. Roman turned to face Remy again, silent, staring down at Remy with that same blank yet ferocious expression. Remy’s eyes lingered on his brother momentarily, before he finally shook his head and followed after Katherine down the stairs to help with Max.
As he stepped off of the bottom stair onto the ground level, Remy came face to face with Dexter St. Valens. At first, Remy had intended on slipping past Dexter without a word, but something in him snapped as he moved past the other boy, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand shot out, wrapping around Dex’s arm to stop the other man in his tracks. Remy turned, eyeing Dex up and down, before finally his eyes settled on Dex’s. “If you ever touch Max again, it will be the last thing you do.” Remy’s lips shifted into a small, mocking smile, before finally he released Dex and moved forward, into the arena to attend to Max.
donutdothis
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It felt strange to be here, inside of the quarantine zone after all of these years. Prosper had spent most of his time these past couple of years trying to get here, trying to get to safety, and yet now that he was here, he couldn’t let himself fucking relax. Even with Blake by his side, Prosper was on high alert, unable to let his guard down. He’d remind himself that he was safe, or at least, as safe as you could get nowadays. There was no infected to scan for nor bandits nor cult members, and he knew that, but his eyes nevertheless scanned the streets like infected would come charging at them any minute. He wanted to let his guard down and relax, for the first time in years, but he couldn’t, and he hated it.
But it was okay. He’d be fine, eventually, or at least that’s what he had told himself. It was a major adjustment, and once he got past the first few days, he’d be fine. Hell, once he saw his father again, he was pretty sure he’d feel a lot better.
Or maybe not, because now that they were actually nearing Garick’s house, he could feel his anxiety eating away at him, and it was all he could do to stay calm.
Which was stupid, really, because what was there to be anxious about? Garick was his father. He had accepted him years ago, when he had been a complete stranger at his doorstep, and he had accepted him again years later, when Prosper told him that he wasn’t his daughter, but rather his son. Now, after all of these years, Garick would undoubtedly accept him again, hell, he’d be thrilled to see him… but part of Prosper still felt sick to his stomach as the dingy blue house Blake had described came into view.
Blake was speaking now, and Prosper tore his eyes from the house for the first time to spare a glance at his friend. His description of Garick wasn’t surprising, and part of Prosper hoped Garick wasn’t home, if only because it meant he wouldn’t have to have that reunion he was so apprehensive about just yet. Prosper looked back to the house again as Blake asked what he’d do when he saw Garick, his stomach churning at the mere thought.
“I need a fuckin’ smoke,” he muttered, looking to Blake with a forced, sheepish grin. He was pretty sure Blake was getting sick of Prosper bumming cigarettes off of him by now, but it had been a while since he had been able to come across anything, and he was sure as hell going to smoke when the opportunity presented itself. When Blake gave him a cigarette, Prosper lit it and inhaled, taking a moment to savor the drag before he took it from his lips, holding it between his fingers. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I mean… honestly, what am I supposed to do? Do you think a hug is like… appropriate?” Since when did he give a fuck about appropriateness? The thought should have made Prosper cringe, but all he could think about was how things could go wrong. “Do you think he’ll even want to hug me?”
Okay, he needed to stop. Everything was fine. Garick was his father - he had taken him in before, and he sure as hell would now, when he had spent two years thinking Prosper was dead.
“I’m just fuckin’ with ya,” Prosper said, grinning as he shoved Blake playfully, “Of course I’m hugging his bitch ass. Better watch out cause I’m coming for you too.”
As they started up the sidewalk towards the house, however, Prosper noticed something… odd, and he frowned, chest tightening at the sight of the door cracked open. Okay… that was kinda fishy, especially if Garick was as much a recluse as Blake described. Sparing a concerned glance to Blake, Prosper cautiously moved forward, reaching out to push the door open a bit more. The house was messy - unsurprising considering it was Garick they were talking about - but nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. ”Da?” Prosper called out, and he winced at that. As if Garick was going to come running out with open arms at the word da. Prosper exhaled a hefty breath as he stepped forward, into the house. ”Yo, Da, ya old fuck, you in here?” he called out again, eyes scanning over the inside of the house.
It was then that he noticed it - drops of blood on the floor, like a trail, leading out of the living room. Prosper tensed up at the sight, and he shot a look to Blake again as he cautiously moved his baseball bat into position. “The fuck happened…” Swallowing hard, Prosper moved forward, following the trail into the kitchen. The kitchen was a mess, shards of glass from broken dishes all over the floor, the curtain half torn and stained with a bloody hand print, the knife block knocked over with knives scattered along the counter and floor. There was more blood on the tile, smeared on the floor rather than droplets, and his eyes followed the trail, leading to behind the kitchen island. He held his breath at the sight; there was a pool of blood, along with boots sticking out from behind the island.
Prosper’s hands trembled hard as he moved forward, slowly, scared to see what was behind the island. It couldn’t be Garick. It couldn’t. They had come this far - he couldn’t be dead now, could he? The body slowly came into sight, and Prosper nearly turned and left before the face came into his line of vision, but he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to move forward further.
The sight had the baseball bat clattering to the floor as Prosper froze.
There was a long moment of silence as Prosper stood there, eyes wide, staring at Garick’s body and the strange symbol under his head.
What the fuck.
What the fuck.
”Da!”
It all hit him at once. Prosper could feel the tears hitting him hard as he rushed to Garick’s side, dropping to his knees, hands scrambling to Garick’s wrist. Garick’s body was cold, and his skin was pale, but Prosper paid no attention to that as his trembling fingers pressed into Garick’s wrist, feeling for a pulse.
There was none.
His hands moved to Garick’s neck, fingers searching for the pulse he couldn’t find in his wrist, but still nothing.
“No!”
Prosper’s breaths came out shallow and fast as he frantically wrapped his right hand over left, centering his hands over Garick’s chest. He began compressions, pressing his hands rhythmically into his father’s chest, over and over.
“C-Come on, Da, please, please…”
Still nothing.
“Come on, fucking come on!”
Prosper continued, sniffling hard as he struggled to hold back his tears.
But it was okay. He’d be fine, eventually, or at least that’s what he had told himself. It was a major adjustment, and once he got past the first few days, he’d be fine. Hell, once he saw his father again, he was pretty sure he’d feel a lot better.
Or maybe not, because now that they were actually nearing Garick’s house, he could feel his anxiety eating away at him, and it was all he could do to stay calm.
Which was stupid, really, because what was there to be anxious about? Garick was his father. He had accepted him years ago, when he had been a complete stranger at his doorstep, and he had accepted him again years later, when Prosper told him that he wasn’t his daughter, but rather his son. Now, after all of these years, Garick would undoubtedly accept him again, hell, he’d be thrilled to see him… but part of Prosper still felt sick to his stomach as the dingy blue house Blake had described came into view.
Blake was speaking now, and Prosper tore his eyes from the house for the first time to spare a glance at his friend. His description of Garick wasn’t surprising, and part of Prosper hoped Garick wasn’t home, if only because it meant he wouldn’t have to have that reunion he was so apprehensive about just yet. Prosper looked back to the house again as Blake asked what he’d do when he saw Garick, his stomach churning at the mere thought.
“I need a fuckin’ smoke,” he muttered, looking to Blake with a forced, sheepish grin. He was pretty sure Blake was getting sick of Prosper bumming cigarettes off of him by now, but it had been a while since he had been able to come across anything, and he was sure as hell going to smoke when the opportunity presented itself. When Blake gave him a cigarette, Prosper lit it and inhaled, taking a moment to savor the drag before he took it from his lips, holding it between his fingers. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I mean… honestly, what am I supposed to do? Do you think a hug is like… appropriate?” Since when did he give a fuck about appropriateness? The thought should have made Prosper cringe, but all he could think about was how things could go wrong. “Do you think he’ll even want to hug me?”
Okay, he needed to stop. Everything was fine. Garick was his father - he had taken him in before, and he sure as hell would now, when he had spent two years thinking Prosper was dead.
“I’m just fuckin’ with ya,” Prosper said, grinning as he shoved Blake playfully, “Of course I’m hugging his bitch ass. Better watch out cause I’m coming for you too.”
As they started up the sidewalk towards the house, however, Prosper noticed something… odd, and he frowned, chest tightening at the sight of the door cracked open. Okay… that was kinda fishy, especially if Garick was as much a recluse as Blake described. Sparing a concerned glance to Blake, Prosper cautiously moved forward, reaching out to push the door open a bit more. The house was messy - unsurprising considering it was Garick they were talking about - but nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. ”Da?” Prosper called out, and he winced at that. As if Garick was going to come running out with open arms at the word da. Prosper exhaled a hefty breath as he stepped forward, into the house. ”Yo, Da, ya old fuck, you in here?” he called out again, eyes scanning over the inside of the house.
It was then that he noticed it - drops of blood on the floor, like a trail, leading out of the living room. Prosper tensed up at the sight, and he shot a look to Blake again as he cautiously moved his baseball bat into position. “The fuck happened…” Swallowing hard, Prosper moved forward, following the trail into the kitchen. The kitchen was a mess, shards of glass from broken dishes all over the floor, the curtain half torn and stained with a bloody hand print, the knife block knocked over with knives scattered along the counter and floor. There was more blood on the tile, smeared on the floor rather than droplets, and his eyes followed the trail, leading to behind the kitchen island. He held his breath at the sight; there was a pool of blood, along with boots sticking out from behind the island.
Prosper’s hands trembled hard as he moved forward, slowly, scared to see what was behind the island. It couldn’t be Garick. It couldn’t. They had come this far - he couldn’t be dead now, could he? The body slowly came into sight, and Prosper nearly turned and left before the face came into his line of vision, but he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to move forward further.
The sight had the baseball bat clattering to the floor as Prosper froze.
There was a long moment of silence as Prosper stood there, eyes wide, staring at Garick’s body and the strange symbol under his head.
What the fuck.
What the fuck.
”Da!”
It all hit him at once. Prosper could feel the tears hitting him hard as he rushed to Garick’s side, dropping to his knees, hands scrambling to Garick’s wrist. Garick’s body was cold, and his skin was pale, but Prosper paid no attention to that as his trembling fingers pressed into Garick’s wrist, feeling for a pulse.
There was none.
His hands moved to Garick’s neck, fingers searching for the pulse he couldn’t find in his wrist, but still nothing.
“No!”
Prosper’s breaths came out shallow and fast as he frantically wrapped his right hand over left, centering his hands over Garick’s chest. He began compressions, pressing his hands rhythmically into his father’s chest, over and over.
“C-Come on, Da, please, please…”
Still nothing.
“Come on, fucking come on!”
Prosper continued, sniffling hard as he struggled to hold back his tears.
donutdothis
New Member
- Group
- Off-site
* trigger warning, substance abuse
The music emanating from the house was deafening, a pulsing, bass-heavy beat that seemed to echo throughout the neighborhood. Colored lights flashed in erratic patterns, bathing the house in neon streaks of crimson, violet, and electric blue. In the living room, bodies swayed in rhythm with the music, which drowned out the sounds of laughter, speaking, and clinking glasses. Coven drifted through the mess of music, dancing bodies, and the smoke hanging in the air, his hand clasped firmly around the shapeshifter’s hand as he pushed his way through the crowd. The shapeshifter followed closely behind Coven as they navigated the tangle of bodies and flashing lights. The chaotic energy of the party was undoubtedly Chaos’ element, but tonight that chaos wasn’t just that he had come here for—no, he had agreed to come with Sloane for the promise of something more, and now that they had arrived, Coven was eager to dabble into it.
Coven pushed his way through the thickest part of the crowd, maintaining his grasp on Sloane’s hand the entire time, before he started on down the hallway of the house. His gaze scanned the room, searching for a bathroom, a bedroom, anything to give them a little privacy. He spotted a bathroom at the end of the hallway, the door cracked open just enough to reveal its vacancy. A sly grin tugged across his lips as he picked up his pace to go into it, his grip on Sloane’s hand becoming more firm, more eager. Once he and Sloane were inside, Coven shut the door behind him, muffling the music thrumming from the living room. He released Sloane’s hand and turned eagerly to his friend, his eyes gleaming with excitement—and perhaps a bit of nervousness.
“You got the stuff, right?” Coven asked, his voice low but eager. ““I gotta admit, I’ve never actually done this before, which… is weird, considering how many times I’ve had it on hand.” Despite having had the substance in his possession many times in the past—he had frequently sold it as part of his Crows duties—he had never actually indulged in it before tonight. He’d seen how it had affected his older brother, Calian, the way it had twisted him into a person Coven had hardly recognized. Because of that, part of him couldn’t help but feel nervous about the activity he was partaking in tonight… but the other part of him was confident enough that what had happened to Calian wouldn’t happen to him, enough so that he was willing to overlook the likely appropriate nervousness. “But—it sounds fun enough, so… let’s do it!”
As Sloane got the supplies ready, Coven fished his wallet out of his back pocket and leaned back against the sink. He took a dollar out of his wallet and rolled it up the way he’d seen others do in the past, watching as Sloane got the substance into the typical presentation before partaking in some of it himself. Adrenaline roaring through him as he watched, Coven waited as patiently as he could for his friend to finish up, before Sloane stepped aside to allow Coven to take his turn.
It burned like fire, starting within his nose and spreading to the back of his throat, enough to cause him to wince slightly as he cleared his throat. The effects were sharp, immediate, all encompassing, a tidal wave of clarity and euphoria hitting him all at once. The once-muffled music pulsed through Coven like a symphony, every note resonating deeply throughout his body. The room around him seemed brighter, the colors around him blazing with a new intensity, every shade brighter and every shadow deeper. He felt almost electric as a tingling sensation spread throughout his fingertips, his lips, his tongue, as though his body was humming with energy. His nerves had, almost immediately, dissipated, replaced instead by euphoria as all his cares in the world seemed to slip away into nothing. Coven wanted—no, he needed—more, and his grin returned to his face as he began to say, “Holy shit. Why did I wait this long—”
It was then that he heard it.
The jarring sounds of blood-curdling screams, barely audible over the music pulsing throughout the house, pierced through him like a knife. For a moment, however brief, Coven was certain he’d imagined it, but as he stood up straight and turned to look at Sloane, he could tell based off of the other’s expression that he, too, had heard it—whatever it was was definitely not some strange substance-induced hallucination, but rather a grim reality of whatever was going on outside of the bathroom. His heightened senses zeroed in on the sound as his posture straightened, and the grin on his face was replaced by a tight knitted frown as the scent hit him: thick, metallic, fresh blood creeping into his nostrils. There was another scent, too—vampires. Their scent was unmistakable, mingling with the blood and the scent of humans outside of the bathroom. His eyes flashed a shade of glowing shade of red, his hellhound instincts kicking in in response to the threat outside, and Coven’s nails formed into sharpened claws as he looked at Sloane for some kind of guidance.
The music emanating from the house was deafening, a pulsing, bass-heavy beat that seemed to echo throughout the neighborhood. Colored lights flashed in erratic patterns, bathing the house in neon streaks of crimson, violet, and electric blue. In the living room, bodies swayed in rhythm with the music, which drowned out the sounds of laughter, speaking, and clinking glasses. Coven drifted through the mess of music, dancing bodies, and the smoke hanging in the air, his hand clasped firmly around the shapeshifter’s hand as he pushed his way through the crowd. The shapeshifter followed closely behind Coven as they navigated the tangle of bodies and flashing lights. The chaotic energy of the party was undoubtedly Chaos’ element, but tonight that chaos wasn’t just that he had come here for—no, he had agreed to come with Sloane for the promise of something more, and now that they had arrived, Coven was eager to dabble into it.
Coven pushed his way through the thickest part of the crowd, maintaining his grasp on Sloane’s hand the entire time, before he started on down the hallway of the house. His gaze scanned the room, searching for a bathroom, a bedroom, anything to give them a little privacy. He spotted a bathroom at the end of the hallway, the door cracked open just enough to reveal its vacancy. A sly grin tugged across his lips as he picked up his pace to go into it, his grip on Sloane’s hand becoming more firm, more eager. Once he and Sloane were inside, Coven shut the door behind him, muffling the music thrumming from the living room. He released Sloane’s hand and turned eagerly to his friend, his eyes gleaming with excitement—and perhaps a bit of nervousness.
“You got the stuff, right?” Coven asked, his voice low but eager. ““I gotta admit, I’ve never actually done this before, which… is weird, considering how many times I’ve had it on hand.” Despite having had the substance in his possession many times in the past—he had frequently sold it as part of his Crows duties—he had never actually indulged in it before tonight. He’d seen how it had affected his older brother, Calian, the way it had twisted him into a person Coven had hardly recognized. Because of that, part of him couldn’t help but feel nervous about the activity he was partaking in tonight… but the other part of him was confident enough that what had happened to Calian wouldn’t happen to him, enough so that he was willing to overlook the likely appropriate nervousness. “But—it sounds fun enough, so… let’s do it!”
As Sloane got the supplies ready, Coven fished his wallet out of his back pocket and leaned back against the sink. He took a dollar out of his wallet and rolled it up the way he’d seen others do in the past, watching as Sloane got the substance into the typical presentation before partaking in some of it himself. Adrenaline roaring through him as he watched, Coven waited as patiently as he could for his friend to finish up, before Sloane stepped aside to allow Coven to take his turn.
It burned like fire, starting within his nose and spreading to the back of his throat, enough to cause him to wince slightly as he cleared his throat. The effects were sharp, immediate, all encompassing, a tidal wave of clarity and euphoria hitting him all at once. The once-muffled music pulsed through Coven like a symphony, every note resonating deeply throughout his body. The room around him seemed brighter, the colors around him blazing with a new intensity, every shade brighter and every shadow deeper. He felt almost electric as a tingling sensation spread throughout his fingertips, his lips, his tongue, as though his body was humming with energy. His nerves had, almost immediately, dissipated, replaced instead by euphoria as all his cares in the world seemed to slip away into nothing. Coven wanted—no, he needed—more, and his grin returned to his face as he began to say, “Holy shit. Why did I wait this long—”
It was then that he heard it.
The jarring sounds of blood-curdling screams, barely audible over the music pulsing throughout the house, pierced through him like a knife. For a moment, however brief, Coven was certain he’d imagined it, but as he stood up straight and turned to look at Sloane, he could tell based off of the other’s expression that he, too, had heard it—whatever it was was definitely not some strange substance-induced hallucination, but rather a grim reality of whatever was going on outside of the bathroom. His heightened senses zeroed in on the sound as his posture straightened, and the grin on his face was replaced by a tight knitted frown as the scent hit him: thick, metallic, fresh blood creeping into his nostrils. There was another scent, too—vampires. Their scent was unmistakable, mingling with the blood and the scent of humans outside of the bathroom. His eyes flashed a shade of glowing shade of red, his hellhound instincts kicking in in response to the threat outside, and Coven’s nails formed into sharpened claws as he looked at Sloane for some kind of guidance.
donutdothis
New Member
- Group
- Off-site
Sami Nasir moved through the wilderness of Death Falls with the practiced stealth of a seasoned hunter, stepping on the softer parts of the Earth where the damp ground would swallow the sound of his combat boots crunching against the forest floor. He adjusted the grip of his sawed-off shotgun in his hands as he carefully traipsed through the wooded area, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any signs of anything that might have accounted for the recent disappearances plaguing the city of Death Falls. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, really, for Sami to be out in the wilderness like this—rather, he’d spent half his life chasing shadows through the wilderness, tracking things that most people dismissed as nightmares, though rarely was he alone like he was now. More often than not Sami was accompanied on his hunts by his younger brother, Kalid, but as fate would have it, tonight Sami was alone.
Not that he particularly minded being alone. Kalid’s presence could be suffocating at times—the younger man had a knack for jumping down Sami’s throat over the smallest of infractions, and while Sami, in his own way, did love his brother, he often sacrificed safety in numbers for the serenity of hunting alone. Tonight had been one of those nights, a night in which alone time had been desperately needed, and so here he was, traversing the wilderness of Death Falls, searching aimlessly for signs of any kind of creature that might have been responsible for what was happening to the small city.
The complete and total silence of the wilderness was eerie enough to tip Sami off that something was off, as in the darkness not even a cricket chirped. The air hung heavy and thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic and sour, barely palpable but unmistakably wrong. Silence like this was never natural. The forest should have been alive with the rustle of nocturnal creatures, the hoots of an owl, the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees. But here, in the dark of the night, there was only the sound of his own breaths.
No—he was wrong. There was something else, something more off in the distance. Sami silenced himself, holding his breath and standing like a statue in place as he strained to listen for the sounds. Footsteps echoing in the distance, crunching against twigs and leaves as whoever it was made their way throughout the woods. It sounded human, though Sami knew well enough to know that just because something looked or sounded human didn’t mean it actually was. Curious to know what the source of the sound was, Sami released the breath he’d been holding and started off in that direction, careful not to make a sound so as to alert the other of his presence.
Silently, Sami tucked himself behind a tree, holding the shotgun close to his chest as he peered around the tree to view the person who had just come into his line of sight. From the distance, he wasn’t able to make out who, exactly, it was, but he could tell it was a human-appearing male. Likely, it was a human off for a stroll in the wilderness, because what better idea was there than to go out into the woods on dark night when disappearances were skyrocketing? For such an intelligent species, humans could be utterly idiotic. But something inside of Sami screamed at him to investigate the man further, because what if it wasn’t just a normal person?
Fuck it. It was worth investigating.
Inhaling a deep breath, Sami stepped out from behind the tree, keeping his shotgun close as he began to charge at the other—perhaps it wasn’t the most suave way of doing things, but it’d get the job done. Before the other man was able to react, he was shoved hard with his back against a tree, with Sami leaned in close to him. He pressed the shotgun just under the man’s chin, pushing his face up so that Sami could get a good look…
And upon the sight of the other man’s face, Sami dropped the shotgun entirely.
The weapon hit the forest floor and bounced off to the side as Ethan Dagis started to piece two and two together. The look of surprise on his face mirrored Sami’s own, and for a moment, Sami could only stare in shock at his former friend in front of his very eyes like the day he’d left. Ethan began to speak, mumbling his surprise with the situation before adding on a poorly-timed joke, and Sami scoffed audibly. “I almost sent you to hell,” he muttered, before he roughly released his grasp on the other’s jacket and took a step back to put some distance between the two. He reached down to grab the fallen shotgun, taking it into his hand before turning to face Ethan again. “Long time no see.” He took a moment to look Ethan up and down, taking in the sight of the other—he definitely wasn’t a painfully unaware human going for a late night stroll in the woods, but rather a hunter geared up for a fight. Good to know Ethan hadn’t completely given up the hunting lifestyle. “Didn’t think I’d run into you of all people out here… What are you after anyway?”
Not that he particularly minded being alone. Kalid’s presence could be suffocating at times—the younger man had a knack for jumping down Sami’s throat over the smallest of infractions, and while Sami, in his own way, did love his brother, he often sacrificed safety in numbers for the serenity of hunting alone. Tonight had been one of those nights, a night in which alone time had been desperately needed, and so here he was, traversing the wilderness of Death Falls, searching aimlessly for signs of any kind of creature that might have been responsible for what was happening to the small city.
The complete and total silence of the wilderness was eerie enough to tip Sami off that something was off, as in the darkness not even a cricket chirped. The air hung heavy and thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic and sour, barely palpable but unmistakably wrong. Silence like this was never natural. The forest should have been alive with the rustle of nocturnal creatures, the hoots of an owl, the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees. But here, in the dark of the night, there was only the sound of his own breaths.
No—he was wrong. There was something else, something more off in the distance. Sami silenced himself, holding his breath and standing like a statue in place as he strained to listen for the sounds. Footsteps echoing in the distance, crunching against twigs and leaves as whoever it was made their way throughout the woods. It sounded human, though Sami knew well enough to know that just because something looked or sounded human didn’t mean it actually was. Curious to know what the source of the sound was, Sami released the breath he’d been holding and started off in that direction, careful not to make a sound so as to alert the other of his presence.
Silently, Sami tucked himself behind a tree, holding the shotgun close to his chest as he peered around the tree to view the person who had just come into his line of sight. From the distance, he wasn’t able to make out who, exactly, it was, but he could tell it was a human-appearing male. Likely, it was a human off for a stroll in the wilderness, because what better idea was there than to go out into the woods on dark night when disappearances were skyrocketing? For such an intelligent species, humans could be utterly idiotic. But something inside of Sami screamed at him to investigate the man further, because what if it wasn’t just a normal person?
Fuck it. It was worth investigating.
Inhaling a deep breath, Sami stepped out from behind the tree, keeping his shotgun close as he began to charge at the other—perhaps it wasn’t the most suave way of doing things, but it’d get the job done. Before the other man was able to react, he was shoved hard with his back against a tree, with Sami leaned in close to him. He pressed the shotgun just under the man’s chin, pushing his face up so that Sami could get a good look…
And upon the sight of the other man’s face, Sami dropped the shotgun entirely.
The weapon hit the forest floor and bounced off to the side as Ethan Dagis started to piece two and two together. The look of surprise on his face mirrored Sami’s own, and for a moment, Sami could only stare in shock at his former friend in front of his very eyes like the day he’d left. Ethan began to speak, mumbling his surprise with the situation before adding on a poorly-timed joke, and Sami scoffed audibly. “I almost sent you to hell,” he muttered, before he roughly released his grasp on the other’s jacket and took a step back to put some distance between the two. He reached down to grab the fallen shotgun, taking it into his hand before turning to face Ethan again. “Long time no see.” He took a moment to look Ethan up and down, taking in the sight of the other—he definitely wasn’t a painfully unaware human going for a late night stroll in the woods, but rather a hunter geared up for a fight. Good to know Ethan hadn’t completely given up the hunting lifestyle. “Didn’t think I’d run into you of all people out here… What are you after anyway?”
