we know that irl Aleks can't do anything with tasers or electricity bc of his heart murmur right? I'd love to see something written with him being threatened by a member of another crew or even a cop and subsequently having the members of fake chop flip out. I want him safe irl but fic has no limits ya know. thanks in advance!
Okay first off, holy shit, I didn’t know about that; damn now I’m going to worry about him even more. Second, let’s see what I can do for you, Anon:
They’re surrounded by police, a dozen or so pistols pointed at them, not quite fucked but headed in that general direction. James ran out of ammo, Brett is down to his last four bullets, and Aleks kneels on the ground, shoulder bleeding from a bullet wound, his gun laying just out of reach on the sidewalk.
Somewhere above they know Trevor and Joe are watching through rifle scopes, waiting for someone to tell them what to do, when to strike, but Aleks lost his comm and James is too tense to move let alone say anything.
“Drop your weapons,” one police officer screams, gun pointed directly at Brett.
“Look fellas, let’s talk…”
“I said drop your weapon,” he repeats and Brett sighs but raises his hands, letting his gun dangle from his fingers for a few seconds before dropping it to the blacktop.
“How much blood can I lose without dying?” Aleks asks no one in particular, chancing a glance at his shoulder. “It’s bleeding a lot.”
The cop closest to him slams the butt of his gun into Aleks’ face, his head snapping to the side. He sniffs, slowly lifting his head, blood sliding down his cheek and dripping onto his shirt.
“Alright, asshole, that’s enough,” Brett says sharply, fury burning in his dark eyes.
The cop smirks, gaze settling on Brett, and he says, “Who’s gonna stop me? You?”
“Brett, stop,” Aleks snaps, watching the cop. His pistol is clutched tightly in his left hand, and the last thing any of them need is Brett’s brains splattered all over the road.
“You can either come quietly,” another cop starts, gaze darting from Aleks to Brett to James, “or we’ll use force if necessary.”
“Haven’t you already?” Brett nods towards Aleks. “He didn’t shoot himself in the shoulder.”
“Keep talking,” the first cop warns, “see what happens.”
Brett’s eyes narrow and he says, “I don’t like when people threaten me.”
The cop tilts his head to the left, right hand reaching for his belt, and at first Aleks actually thinks he’s reaching for his pepper spray, but he pulls his taser free instead.
“Say one more word, I dare you.”
“Let’s just arrest them,” the second cop says quickly, trying to keep the peace (or as much as the LSPD can keep), but even he’s not doing much good. His buddy is out for blood, and Brett is a prime target.
“Nothing else to say, tough guy?” the second cop challenges.
Brett fights the impulse to say anything, but Aleks sees him break, sighing softly when Brett says, “Am I allowed to file a formal complaint or should I direct all of my problems to you?”
It’s not like he’s expecting it, but really he’d be more surprised if the cop actually went for Brett. Aleks has enough time to feel two sharp pricks in his side before his entire body seizes up, knocking him to the ground. He curls in on himself, eyes squeezed shut, involuntary screams tearing from his lungs.
He hears several voices shouting above him, Brett the loudest of them all, but he can’t understand what any of them are saying. He’s so sure he’s going to die, almost begging for it, when the pain suddenly stops.
It’s silent for a good ten seconds before he hears James softly say, “Trevor, Joe fuck them up.”
Aleks hears the first crack of a rifle immediately followed by a thump as a body hits the ground. Hands grab him, dragging him across the blacktop, leaning him against a car. His body is still shaking, eyes still shut tightly, breathing harsh and ragged.
He feels someone gently grip his shoulder, a quiet voice murmuring in his ear, telling him to breathe, and he thinks he nods but he’s not sure. Somewhere in the distance he hears screams and grunts, more gunfire, and a harsh, familiar voice shouting so loud Aleks knows James probably won’t be able to talk tomorrow.
It’s over just as suddenly as it started, an eerie silence settling over the street. Aleks forces his eyes open, his gaze darting around. He’s hiding behind a truck, Brett kneeling next to him, James sitting on his other side. Both are bleeding from various cuts, but otherwise they look relatively unscathed.
“You alright?” they ask and he nods.
“Okay, well we gotta go,” James states, the distant wail of sirens making him tense, and Aleks nods again in agreement.
Brett helps him up, catching him when his legs give out, practically dragging him towards an alleyway. He feels James duck under his other arm, both propping him up, and he manages to wheeze, “T-that sucked.”
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