*I came up with this at 3am got so excited that I made chapter one right away. I want to post it here first to get some feedback*
~SUMMARY: Ryan Haywood didn’t want to be the Vagabond. He didn’t want to be part of the Fake AH Crew. He didn’t want to kill, but one mistakes years ago literally comes back to haunt him making him the monster he is today.~
Ryan wakes in the back of a moving van. Blue eyes scan the surroundings as his heart rate picks up. Straight across him is a man decked out in everything orange and purple. Even the rifle in his hand matches. Ryan nervously eyes said rifle. He knows the man is familiar, but his brain refuses to supply an answer. All he knows is no one has questioned why he’s awake, meaning he is here willingly.
To his right a man, taller than the last, sits with his phone in hand and a pistol in his lap. His dirty blonde hair is the brightest thing about his outfit. Across from him another man with almost red, curly hair calls him “Boi.”
Ryan still can’t remember who they are.
“Great work guys! Another successful heist written in the books!”
Ryan tries not to jump when a man in the front passenger seat turns to speak to them. Driving the van is a woman in an Hawaiian shirt with red hair. When she speaks Ryan’s blood runs cold.
“Ryan, you were an animal out there! Normally, I try not to encourage you, but if you hadn’t stepped in and practically ripped that man’s throat out, Michael would have been dead.”
Hands begin to shake as the man in question looks down. The nervous hands are covered in someone’s blood and by his feet lays a rather dangerous looking machine gun. Ryan reaches up to feel his face only to obtain contact with a cold unforgiving mask.
Blue eyes shoot up to meet the man in orange and purple.
“Jeremy?” his voice somehow supplied the answer.
Slowly, Ryan was remembering where he was, who he was with, and who he was.
“Thought we lost ya there, Battle Buddy. You okay?” Jeremy asked.
“Great. Just thinking… about what Geoff said.” names were coming back to his mind. So was the act he had to perform around this group of men.
“What’s wrong with what I said?” Geoff’s voice raises at the end in a comical sort of way.
Ryan hesitates before forcing a laugh. “Another successful heist? When have we ever been successful?”
The van erupts into laughter. No one notices how uncomfortable and forced Ryan’s is.
Once the crew arrives back at their safe house, Ryan locks himself in his room. The others classify it as “normal.”
Memory comes at Ryan like a train. He is Ryan Haywood. The Vagabond, part of the Fake AH Crew. He is one of the deadliest killers out there. Only that’s not him. He doesn’t actually do anything. Some would call it multiple personality disorder, but Ryan knows better. It’s something supernatural. Demonic if you will. All because he was stupid years ago. Now, anytime he let’s his guard down, the monster comes out to play.
Taking the mask off is always a relief. Why the demons choose to wear this. He’ll never know. It sticks to his skin uncomfortably and leaves red marks around his eyes. Technically those could be from lack of sleep, but who’s going to correct him. With a sigh, the Vagabond sheds his metaphorical battle armor and tries to wash away the facepaint and blood from today’s events with a shower hotter than Hell.
Once “clean” he checks himself in the mirror, using his towel to wipe away the fog on the glass. There before him stands a corpse. Tired eyes stare back at him, once so bright and vibrant. They now remind him of murky lake water. Bruises wrap around his neck in the shape of a hand. Scars cover his chest and back and his bones are showing way to much for his liking. This is the side of the great Vagabond that the rest of the crew and the world doesn’t see.
A knock on his door takes him out of his trance caused by self pity. He quickly wraps a towel around his waist before unlocking his door and opening it just enough to see Gavin standing there with a dopey grin on his face.
“No.” Ryan tries to slam the door but the Brit wedges his foot in the way. The force of the door makes Gavin squawk in pain.
“Oh come on, you don’t even know wot I’m going to say.”
“Exactly. That’s why I said no.” Ryan glared. He hated to act this way towards anyone, but no one could know what was happening to him and he had to keep this psychopath act up for reasons he didn’t fully understand.
“But, the Lads want to go out and we-”
“Need someone to babysit. Tempting, but still no.” Ryan interrupted. It’s true he personally didn’t drink, so that left him the designated driver/ guardian of the whole crew, but he wasn’t even sure why the monsters wouldn’t let the Vagabond drink either.
Gavin crossed his arms and pouted, reassembling a small child. “You’re no fun, you pleb.”
“Thank you.” Ryan smiled and swung the door shut now that Gavin had moved his foot.
Once again surrounded by the darkness of his room, the great Vagabond, crumpled to the floor. Sadness and confusion overtook him as he regretted every moment of his life. He ignored the slight chill that was caused by only wearing a towel as he rested his head on his knees and tried not to cry.
He hated the Vagabond. Hell he hated the crew. No necessarily the people, he just hated what together they could accomplish.
Ryan eventually calmed his breathing before getting up to find clothes. He stared into his generously large closet, debating if he should apologize to Gavin and go out with them. He’d feel terrible if something happened to them because he said no, but he couldn’t risk his inner demons being set loose on the town again. With a loud sigh he settled for a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
A small hiss left his throat when he climbed into bed, causing a pulled muscle in his leg to flare up in pain. He ignored it and fell onto his back dramatically, hoping sleep would finally take over.
Truth be told, Ryan can’t remember the last time he slept well. Like this morning, he awoke in the van with the crew, which means his mind and body was taken over in the middle of the night. There wasn’t much he could do to prevent the change when asleep so he made up for it by basically neglecting his health. If he was weak so were the demons. He rarely ate, drank barely enough water, and got sleep only when he was seconds from passing out. Today was an exception though. Ryan was to emotionally drained to try and stay up. He prayed for a break.
The clock on his nightstand flipped to midnight. Blue eyes finally started to slide shut. The room became significantly colder. Once Ryan fully closed his eyes a icy blue mist circled the foot of his bed. What sounded like a whisper caused the man to stir in his sleep, not fully waking him though.
Ryan laid in bed, completely unaware that the mist was creeping up his sleeping form, changing into what resembled a transparent hand. It stopped once it reached his face only to brush his hair out of his face. The contact caused Ryan to open his eyes slowly.
Before he could shout the hand locked onto his throat, blocking his airway. He tried to struggle. To claw at the intruder, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, he gave up. Part of him welcomed death. He began to wonder what the crew could say.
What felt like hours passed before he started to pass out. He became startled when he felt air enter his lungs again. The air felt cold as he breathed in something that wasn’t just air.
The blue mist filled his lungs. It flowed through his entire being. His breath slowed as his mental state slipped away. A smirk formed in his lips as he opened his eyes that were practically on fire with blue flames.
The Vagabond was ready to play.
