Closed Starter | Dark Path AU - Roy Harper | @therebetterbepie
Ugh.
How long was he out for?
And who the fuck was banging on his window?
"Hey, you can't park here. Sir? HEY, SIR! YOU CAN'T PARK HERE!"
Lifting his head up from the horn and turning to his left, his head so woozy that he felt like he was swimming, Roy inhaled a sharp breath and tried to recollect his thoughts. The face he met on the other end of the window was angry alright, adorned with a yellow hard hat and a safety jacket to match. His mouth felt like cotton, his vision just a little blurred. He wasn't injured or hurt, which was... A good sign.
Right?
Reaching over, he pressed the button to roll down the window, only to be met with a sour expression of an elderly man, the air of impatience too obvious to ignore.
"Can I... um... help you?" Roy asked, his speech just a little slurred. It's been a bit since he last drank anything, which probably showed in how pathetic he assumed he looked since he just woke up from a drunken nap, so he couldn't be that bad.
"You can't park here, sir."
Sigh. "I'm sorry. Do you, um..." Roy inhaled sharply, reaching up to rub one of his eyes tiredly. God, his head was starting to hurt again. "Do you know what, uh... what time is it?"
"It's 3:18 in the morning." Oh yeah, this guy was definitely pissed.
Wait.
Was it 3:18 am already?
Shit.
"Sir, you're wasting my time and I would really like to go back to watching the game now. Please move your car before I call the cops." The man, whom Roy could only assume to be the inspector of the building site he parked outside of by the hat and the pompous tone of his voice, clearly wasn't going to cooperate any longer.
"Right, right. sorry." Roy put both hands on the wheel and blinked a few times, trying to regain his composure. Come on, Harper, get it together.
"You got something stuck on your wipers, too. Throw it before you drive." The inspector pointed out as Roy started his car, causing the redhead to look up and notice the envelope sitting right where the inspector said it was.
Bingo.
"Drunken idiot..." Roy could hear the older man mumbling under his breath as he clumsily outstretched his arm around to try and reach for it without getting out, with, unfortunately, no success. Stumbling outside like the drunken idiot he was, he finally grabbed it, noting the familiar handwriting and got back into the car, finally pulling out of the construction site.
The instructions were clear. Find the guy, get a stolen item, get paid. It was supposed to be an easy job, given that he was going to be dealing with a guy who didn't seem anything more than a simple civilian gone on a bad streak of vandalism, and whether it was by choice or by accident didn't matter to Roy.
He was told the man was related to a few breakin incidents over the last few weeks, but since no one was hurt, the police didn't continue the investigations properly and the cases dropped relatively quickly due to lack of evidence. The only weird thing was strange symbols left in the houses he broke into, but other than that? Nothing else other than stolen property. Among them was an amulet he was tasked with retrieving to his employeer, whom he... Well, met at a bar.
It was how he found his contacts most of these days. Word to mouth, people just found him more than he found others. He was a former vigilante, after all; who wouldn't want to be able to hire this kind of a guy to do their dirty work, right?
Right. Not that Roy cared anymore, really.
He left his mask behind what felt like a long while ago.
He was given the details with the man's address and a picture of the amulet inside an envelope last night. Well, technically it was morning, but time sort of blurred together when you didn't pay attention to it. Technically, he was also supposed to get the envelope directly from the guy himself and be informed of when he'll get his payment, but... Well, he drank a little too much after taking some painkillers again, and fell asleep while waiting. Eh, he has the guy's number, it'll be fine.
So, equipped with some essential arsenal for the task, Roy headed to the address the following night. Parking just around the corner, in a good spot to spy on the house from afar, Roy fished the binoculars out of his duffle bag and took a look. No car parked outside, the lights were turned off, no apparent movement... Either the guy was sleeping, or he was out. Either way, it was the perfect moment for Roy.
He made his way towards the house quickly through the backyard. Scaling the fence, he waddled his way carefully through an overgrown garden and sneaked to the backdoor. Peeking through one of the windows, he didn't see any movement inside; to be honest, he could barely see anything, but he only had the street lights from the main street to guide him. Getting his toolkit out of his pocket, he fully expected to make quick work of whatever lock was in place, but the door was unlocked.
Ok, that's... odd?
Could be a safer neighborhood than he thought, or the guy was just forgetful. But upon opening the door, a waft of foul, decaying odor reached his nose.
He quickly turned from the opening door, covering his mouth and nose with his shirt.
Holy shit, he was going to vomit. He tried not to tear up as he did his best to peek inside, see through the darkness; it was as if a screen of pitch black haze was blocking the view inside.
All he could see were old, scratched floorboards, and a dark liquid smeared across the hallway's walls...
