Coming back had been a blur. Ares wasn't sure how long he'd been lying outside of the farm, pressed up to Nicki, with Mike watching over them, but at some point the fighting had died down. The way back had been difficult, and at some point Ares hadn't felt much anymore, the cold or his feet or anything. The last thing he remembered was that they'd stumbled through the gates, and after that - nothing.
And then he was in a hospital bed. Ares groaned. His eyes felt crusted together, and like it took considerable effort to open them. For a moment, everything was pretty bright, and then his surroundings normalized. Alongside it came the pain. Dull and familiar by this point in his chest, a newer, sharper one in his back. It radiated when he shifted, trying to sit up a little to look around.
"Luc?" Ares blinked again. His voice sounded hoarse, like he hadn't used it for a while. It felt kind of weird, seeing his brother on a chair by his bedside when the last time Ares had seen him, it'd been the other way around. But hell, if Ares wasn't happy about it. "How... how long was I out? Shit..." Ares lowered himself back onto the bed, feeling too tired in the moment to properly get up. But he was here. Luc was here. He was back in Redwood. He couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes again. "I'm back, Luc. I made it."
"Break time, Lucien." Vi set the thermos of tea down on the librarian's desk, alongside the two cups she'd brought from the community kitchen. She'd never had her husband's patience when it came to reading, mostly enjoying listening to audio books as she worked. That hadn't changed after the world had ended - the only reason she made her way across town to this place was, usually, to visit her friend. When he'd been sick even more so.
"Eucalyptus tea. Tastes terrible, but it's good for your lungs. Supposed to clear your airways." Vi grabbed a chair from one of the table and dragged it to Lucien's desk. He looked a lot better compared to when he'd been lying in bed, feverish and coughing. But there was a hollowness clinging to his cheeks, an exhaustion. For a moment, Vi hadn't been sure whether Lucien would make it. Lucien probably hadn't been sure either. But he had pulled through, and now he got to sit back at his desk.
"See you got the library up and running again. " She commented as she poured both of them a cup, and pushed one of them over to the librarian. "How are you feeling? I've barely seen you leave the library ever since you got back up."
starter for: @lucienmelaina
location: library
Ares would have normally felt bad for enjoying Redwoods anemities during times like these. Maybe it was some belated survivor's guilt, but with one person dead, one injured and one missing, he was bound to feel bad that he was the one still alive and kicking, getting to go the library. The blood on his own hands didn't make the feeling better.
Though, right now, Ares was occupied with something entirely else. It had been a coincidence - someone he had met in passing mentioning something that made his heartbeat jump, just how weird it was that there were two people named Melaina in Redwood. It wasn't really a common name like Smith or Miller or something. So, what were the fucking odds?
And now he was here, in front of the library, trying and failing to kick himself in the ass to finally go in there. He had been loitering outside for about an hour, sometimes getting enough courage to step up to the door but always pulling back in the end. How the hell could he meet his brother? After everything? What if Luc hated him? Didn't want to see him?
But, he couldn't avoid this. Didn't want to avoid it. If his brother was here, then they'd meet eventually and shit would just get worse the longer res pushed away. So, taking one breath and pushing forward, he stepped into the library, forcing himself not to stop and heading straight to the counter, where a person was sitting.
"Holy shit." Ares breathed as he looked at his brother. Looking about 20 years older than when they had last seen each other, but still, unmistakenly, it was him. "Luc." Ares voice was raspy, giving out for just a moment as he stared at the familiar yet unfamiliar face. Part of him wanted to run back out the door, and just not turn back, because the fear was there, threatening to overwhelm him, the thought that his brother might not wish to see him at all.
"I... Is that really you? You're not... you're here. Holy fucking shit you're here."
TIMING: Current.
LOCATION: Undisclosed warehouse.
PARTIES: @loveandluc & @howlinjack
SUMMARY: Notorious bad luck haver Luc and stressed werewolf Jackie get wrapped up in a case of mistaken identity.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use tw, unsanitary tw
This was new. In like a totally terrifying way that had Luc nauseated but the hyperventilating definitely wasn’t helping with that - neither was the probably dirty fabric of the bag around his head that kept getting sucked into his mouth with every panicked breath. At least with those few instances of accidental arrests, Luc had sort of known and understood what was going on, by the end of it at the very latest. Too much had happened now and Luc still felt none the wiser, not after getting tackled and having a bag shoved over his head or thrown into a moving vehicle or tied to a chair. He had tried to ask what was going on to begin with, had pleaded actually, but after being shaken up and told to shut it, Luc figured his best bet was to obey.
Would this sort of experience count towards a role as someone getting kidnapped? It would definitely be a unique addition to his CV.
Luc clung to the thought like an anchor to keep from spiraling (further), to keep more questions or pleas from slipping out, even if the occasional pitiful noise did get peppered in with the panicked breathing. Finally, after time had crawled at an excruciating pace, the bag over his head was tugged off as unceremoniously as it had been forced on.
Peering against the bright light inside the, oh god, abandoned warehouse, Luc swallowed back the rising nausea. A team of people, looking like they’d been straight picked from an early 2000s mafia movie, were scattered across the space. And then, next to Luc, a complete stranger sharing Luc’s exact predicament. Although he had somehow managed to earn himself a bloody nose, if the dried blood on his mouth was any indicator. His mind was spinning but a thought still managed to dart in - this was the guy Luc had helped in the grocery store parking lot after he’d dropped his bag. Right before they’d both been snatched. Was… he the reason for all of this? Even with that thought ringing alarm bells (somehow, there were still more alarm bells to be rung), Luc whispered, “hey, are you okay?”
—-
If it took getting his groceries delivered to avoid a kidnapping, he’d foot the fees next time. Something sharp as fury rang against Jackie’s skull and he tried to control the way his breath stretched his lungs. Annoyance, panic, stress. All delicious things that the monster under his skin liked to feed on. He needed to starve it. The situation didn’t exactly lend itself to that. Men in the grocery store parking lot, a strike to his head, a getaway vehicle. He could already feel the bruises forming. The man that had been taken with him asked a lot of questions that got nowhere, so Jackie remained quiet after his own first question earned him a strike to the cheek. Listened and breathed in whatever he could to try to make sense of where they were. Metal, blood, dirt. Cigars. He couldn’t tell if they were cheap or not. He was willing to bet that they were.
When the bag came off, Jackie swore under his breath at the harshness of the light. At how the dried blood along his cheekbone tore off with it. He tried to take in a grounding breath but his lungs fluttered and squeezed. He wasn’t a fan of their current situation and looking at the goon squad across the way, they didn’t seem to be fans of theirs either. How they got there, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was mad. And it was getting worse by the second. It scratched at the back of his neck.
Jackie tilted his head at the other man’s question but kept his eyes forward on the gaggle of suited men. Watched where their hands were.
“Hm, yeah, I'm alright, you? You good?”
At the sound of their voices, the men across the way shifted and straightened up. They were posturing. Weighing them up. Jackie shook his head slightly. Yeah, it wasn't his first weigh-in. The one that smelled the worst of cheap cigars entered through the warehouse door and made his way towards them.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the man said. “So, which one of you pulled the trigger on Small Tony?”
A nervous bark of a laugh rose out of Jackie as he anxiously glanced at the man beside him, muttering an apology. He was stressed. He couldn’t help it.
—
It was an instant relief to hear the stranger from the parking lot speak, to hear that he didn’t sound too disoriented or hurt. Luc was also relieved to find that he didn’t seem angry with Luc, even if his general vibe was pretty displeased, which sorta tracked considering their situation. If he hadn’t been so worried and confused, Luc might have found it in him to be a little bit angry, too. “I– yeah, I guess. Alright but… confused. So confused.” Before Luc could try and gauge any more information from the person sharing his predicament, the pair had gained the unwanted attention of the others in the space. Luc swallowed thickly.
The group of similarly dressed and roughed up men parted like an ocean for the newcomer as he strolled in, coming to a halt close to Luc and his fellow captive, looking between the pair before posing his question. Luc barely had time to process the absurdity of the question before his companion was laughing, a noise that didn’t sound too amused, though. Luc’s face turned apologetic, too, as the nervous man said his sorries.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” the stranger commanding the room said, pulling out a large cigar and making a show of languidly lighting it on fire. Luc’s nose wrinkled at the smell. “At least you’ll die with smiles on your faces, then.”
“What?” Luc squeaked, his throat too tight, the air too thick. Die? “I don’t know a Small Tony. I’ve never shot anyone, I’ve never even held a gun, unless you count prop guns which you shouldn’t because it was a really bad replica– look, there’s clearly been a mistake. My name is Luciano, I’m an actor, I don’t know anything about your friend but I’m really sorry that he–” A blow to the back of his head effectively stopped Luc’s rambling, pain radiating through his skull, eyes watering as stars momentarily danced in his field of vision.
“I didn’t ask,” the menacing man said, turning his attention to the other captive. “And you? Do you want to lie to me, too?”
—--
Jackie hummed a sound of agreement. Confusion was putting it mildly. Every word they spoke or noise they made seemed to rustle the gaggle of armed men. They wouldn't be able to talk too much, but maybe through their combined efforts, they could put together what the actual fuck was going on. He was annoyed, peeved. Pissed. All of those things but none of it was directed to the poor guy beside him as he kept his eyes forward. A sensation of awareness prickled his skin and something shifted underneath it.
Unfortunately, he was a nervous laugher and it wasn't an appreciated quirk of his. Especially not in a hostage situation. The absurdity of it made him want to laugh again, maybe a lack of preservation instinct. But he stilled the sensation at the threat of death as he listened. Listened to nervous and angry hearts, then words as Luciano pleaded his case. It was a good one, Jackie had to admit. And he believed him. He spared a glance his way and a small ripple of recognition focused his eyes. He had never seen this guy act in anything, nothing he could recall given the circumstances, but he did recognize him from when they talked about snacks online, the brief perusal of his profile.
“Bag of chips guy?”
He spoke before he could stop himself. One of the men shifted anxiously.
“Boss, I think they're talkin’ in code...”
The crack of the gun against Luciano's head got Jackie talking with purpose, moving against his restraints. The faintest smell of blood mixed with the smoke.
“Hey! Fuck off of him!”
It wasn't fair. None of this was. For them to be kidnapped, beaten, talked down to. His cottage cheese was probably gross and warm by now. That pissed him off too. He needed to not get so angry, to be level-headed, to assess the situation and think of how they could get out of there. But he was steadily becoming offkilter, months and weeks worth of minor frustrations leaking in through the corners of the warehouse and pooling at his feet.
“I don't think he's lying to you”, Jackie said. “Me? I'm just a boxer, a retired one. One of the Jamesons if it matters. Why would we shoot Small Tony? We don't know the guy, we don't know you. What's to gain from that? Just admit you got it wrong, man.”
The man's face was scarlet, more annoyed than when Jackie started talking. One of the men looked like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure. Needed to get closer to figure it out and approached the boxer instead. Made the mistake of getting close enough for Jackie to headbutt him and break his nose. That smell of blood was stronger now, almost heavier than the smoke. The man swore and backed away from Jackie holding his face. The leader shook his head, muttered something along the lines of ‘moron’, then put his attention back on his two hostages.
“So, a bad actor and a bum of a boxer took out Small Tony and you're gonna sit here and try to make me look dumb? Make my men look dumb? There's gotta be something to gain with this, because looking between the two of yas, you don't got much else to lose.”
This guy wasn't fucking listening and Jackie ground his teeth. No one ever fucking listened. They just wanted to talk, to get their words out, to fill the room with air because they didn't have anything else of value to offer. He looked at Luciano and frowned, then back at the man, who started to grin. Didn't like that at all.
“So, since you don't want to talk and you're feeling feisty, let's play a game. It's a good one, you'll like it. You boys familiar with Russian Roulette? It'll be me with the gun and you two right there, we can see what happens.”
—
Panic wasn’t a great help when it came to remembering things and Luc was forced to wonder if maybe all of this was one great, weird dream once he was addressed as ‘bag of chips guy’. Boy, did he wish this was all just a dream. But the panic and pain was very real and did in fact not allow Luc to escape from this dodgy warehouse, meaning that apparently the other poor soul stuck here with Luc actually knew him?
It didn’t take too long for the ringing in Luc’s ears to subside, allowing him to faintly hear the other man’s protest. Despite it all, Luc was glad to at least not be alone here, which was totally selfish and unfair towards this stranger-but-maybe-not-a-stranger but still, his presence was a blessing. With the distracting pain still ringing in his head, Luc didn’t stand a chance of connecting the dots until Jackie finally introduced himself to the thugs. At least Luc hadn’t talked to many retired boxers about chips so the answer managed to reveal itself despite the growing headache. Before Luc could somehow signal to the man that he did in fact remember him (was that important right now?), one of the men with guns was getting his nose broken. “Oh, shit,” Luc breathed, eyes wide and fear rising. Was antagonizing them the best option?
Despite the impressive sneak attack, Jackie wasn’t punished, but Luc’s heart was permanently lodged up in his throat. He tried to desperately shake his head as the man in charge rambled on, wanting to make it clear that no one wanted to make anyone look dumb! If anything, Luc was the one that felt dumb because he still had no idea how this all had happened. What Luc did know was the game of Russian Roulette.
“That doesn’t seem necessary,” Luc argued, voice rising in panic, wrists pulling at the constraints in earnest now as the grinning man fiddled with actual, real life, real deadly bullets and placed one of them back into the gun in his hand. “We can talk, I can definitely talk to you, there’s no need for– ohmygod.” Luc’s eyes squeezed shut as the cold metal of a gun pressed against his forehead, mind wandering to his moms, his friends, to Mickey and finally to Sebastian. Had he been this scared right before dying, too? The gun clicked and Luc inhaled sharply, and then exhaled. No bullet. Not this time. Tears spilled from his eyes as they shot open, making his vision blurry as he watched the barrel turn to Jackie. “Come on, man, please, you don’t have to do this. Please.”
—-
Jackie wanted to say an endless string of apologies to poor Luc. In truth, it wasn’t either of their faults. He felt that he could reason that much. Just a mountain-sized heap of bad luck that they collectively found themselves on. Him and Luc. The men that stared at them from across the divide. And now his head hurt. It was a stupid move. Headbutting men with guns. It was something Julian's unrepentant ass would've done and that caused the teeth under his skin to clench, grow sharper. A thin line of blood trickled from his cut brow. The thug's blood and his own was sharp in his nose, oppressive against anything else when he breathed in.
How he wished they could have just been back to talking about snacks and protein and whatever else. Instead of Jackie shifting restlessly in his seat and shooting wary glances at the man beside him. His wrists shifted, his hands flexed. Anger and fear wound themselves together in his chest and his skin felt like it barely fit across his frame. Then the gun drifted to Luc and a shout caught in his throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was going to get this man killed. It was going to be his fault. Nothing was in his control.
Jackie let out a huff of relief when the gun did nothing to Luc, but it was short-lived. It was his turn then and the gunman smirked. The boxer wanted to tear it off. Wanted to shatter his hands so he couldn't pull anything again.
He wanted Luc to live.
Jackie wanted to live.
And he was so goddamn angry.
Nails bit into Jackie's sweat-slicked palms as he stared down the barrel of the gun. He didn't know what would happen but the gun was quiet when the man pulled the trigger, made an amused face of ‘huh’. He took his time going back over to Luc and Jackie didn't miss the tears on the other man's face, the smell of adrenaline and fear. But over it he could smell blood. The blood of the man he had hit. His stomach turned at the thought of ‘good’ that crossed his mind. The beast beneath began to shake itself awake.
“Hey, hey, get away from him,” Jackie growled out. He kept his eyes on the leader as he addressed Luc. “Don't–Don't be scared, it'll be okay. Don't be scared.”
It was a lot to ask and Jackie knew it. His eyes drifted to Luc as if it would be enough to convince him.
“It's not your turn, you washed up freak,” the guy answered. His attention was on Luc but the gun wavered towards Jackie. “That eager to die, huh? Wait your turn. Could be him before you.”
Or you before us.
Skin split as Jackie's nails grew sharper, the corners of his mouth began to tear to make room for unnatural teeth. Each second the man stood in front of Luc, was another second that Jackie's skin began to undo itself.
“Luc, it's alright,” he said as he shook his head, tremors wracking his body. “And I'm so sorry for this. Hey, you. Point your gun at me, huh? Leave him alone.”
—
This was insane. Like actually insane. To the point that Luc couldn’t even pull his usual ‘wow, it will be great to be able to use this later as experience, something to draw from when I’m character building for an audition’. Luc never wanted to remember this ever again, he wanted this memory wiped from his mind and it wasn’t even over yet. If he even got the chance to walk out of here and form this horror into a memory. His pleading might as well have been silent for all the effect it was having on the man holding the gun, barrel pointedly threatening Jackie now. It didn’t stop Luc’s attempts to appeal to some sort of humanity and kindness he wanted to believe was present in every living being, an endless string of ‘please’ and ‘don’t’ doing absolutely nothing to delay the trigger being pulled.
Luc’s stomach churned with anxiety and relief, equal parts of both as Jackie remained alright (relatively speaking). He didn’t want to watch someone die but this good news also meant the gun was returning to Luc’s side of the room, nervous pleading now turning into helpless hyperventilating. It was sweet that Jackie was trying to help, trying to comfort him but Luc was finding it very hard to not be scared of the loaded gun drawing ever closer. His eyes caught Jackie’s and Luc really wanted to try and not be scared, just for his only friend in this scenario, but his heart continued jackrabbiting and his breath still tore from him in panicked little gasps.
A pained whimper sounded through the useless breaths when the gun suddenly changed direction, unsteady because of Jackie’s insistence. That wasn’t fair. None of this was fair and Luc didn’t want to die but Jackie didn’t deserve to die, either! Luc’s wide eyes snapped from the dark metal of the gun back to Jackie, who was… who was what? The shock of seeing Jackie’s face slowly cracking into a different shape was enough to knock the breath right back into Luc before he breathed himself into passing out. He made a sound of confused terror before clamping his mouth shut because Jackie was still talking, still… human? And his demands that the gun be pointed his way were working.
“What the fuck is this?!” the leader of this whole thing screamed, gun whipping over to point at Jackie as more of the man’s body snapped and cracked and bent into shapes that shouldn’t have been possible. With all of the unnatural noises, it was hard to hear the click of the gun as the trigger was pulled, and no bullet followed. Some frustrated cursing, another click. Luc couldn’t tear his eyes off Jackie’s body, away from how painful it all looked and sounded, his own body trembling in fear and maybe solidarity? A few more seconds, another click, this one followed by a bang that rang in Luc’s eardrums. A bullet had gone off, one meant for Luc eventually if no one had intervened.
“No!” Luc cried, the noise being what finally pushed him over the edge, forcing his eyes to squeeze shut even as he kept yanking on the constraints that wouldn’t budge - only they had budged for Jackie. Well, this version of Jackie.
—--
Jackie’s heart hammered against the confines of his ribs. He felt like he was dying. He was. He wanted to tell Luc to get away, somehow, but his tongue was too large and his jaw broke to reform itself. His vocal chords ripped. His own blood made the bindings slick, his hands steadily becoming free. Yellowing eyes locked onto the leader, the size of his teeth making it impossible to shut his mouth. Nail by nail, tooth by tooth, his body ripped itself apart and shifted to make room for a creature that smelled blood. Adrenaline. Fear. Heard the frantic flutter of heartbeats behind fragile ribs, pulses in soft necks.
A torn, lupine grin stretched across Jackie’s face. Blood seeped from his jaws. The sound of the bullet was loud, a nuisance to his ears, and he jerked back in the chair. And when it passed through the meat of his side, it took what remained of Jackie’s thoughts with it.
Reason fell back into shadow and in the light of the warehouse, a Monster stood.
“Oh shit, oh fuck, shit.”
The leader of the group fumbled with his now empty gun. The panic in his chest was loud. The gun in his hand was loud too. The Monster crossed the short distance between them and then the man’s hand was gripped between razor teeth. The gun tasted bad but then the creature bit down and tasted blood. That was better. It let the gun fall from its mouth then chewed through skin and muscle. Crunched through bone. Shook its head when the man tried to back away. The man screamed, stumbled back, when the flesh gave way. Tendons stretched and snapped between its teeth.
The Monster dropped the man’s torn hand from its mouth and screamed, roared, back. Half horror, half triumph. Then sharp claws dug into the man’s mouth and shredded what made the sound in the man’s throat. More blood. No more sound. The fear in the room was thick in the creature’s nose and it briefly turned its head to look at the man stuck in the chair. His heart was loud. Something frantic, albeit small and minute and pitiful and desperate, told the creature to turn around. Turn away. The creature grunted and when it turned, it mindlessly bumped the man away harshly. The smell of blood was fresher that way and it opened its mouth to breathe deep.
It tore across the room on all fours. Bullets flew and struck metal, shattered lightbulbs. Glass scattered across the ground. Their heartbeats thundered in the Monster’s ears and sharp hands dug through chest cavities to get to the sound. The sound tasted good. Blood sprayed across the warehouse floor and made it slick under their shoes. Painted the creature’s white fur red as it pulled and pulled, undid the men from the inside out to get to the long strings of meat inside. Bile and body fluids splashed across the floor in a mural dedicated to how human flesh gave way to a greater beast.
Their heads made too much sound when it did this and the Monster’s teeth sunk into their necks to try and pull them off. Necks snapped. Weak tendons popped and tore as their heads fell back to thump against their spines. Hands spasmed, legs gave out. Heartbeats steadily went away. Some continued to beat and they fell over each other, their bodies not listening.
The Monster dipped behind a pile of boxes to shake its head, to breathe. There were still heartbeats to chase but the pain in its side caught up to it and it breathed heavily. The moon wasn’t bright enough to make its skin mend itself and it huffed in anger. In despair.
A howl shook the room.
—
Luc wanted to keep his eyes shut, he really, really did. Just the noises were plenty, carving space in Luc’s mind where he didn’t want them, so crunchy and wet and the screaming. There was so much screaming, the fear and the pain… And he couldn’t even tuck his face into his shirt or peek between his fingers, not with his hands stuck like they were, rope digging so hard into Luc’s skin. He liked some horror movies and that was only for the plot, gore had never really been his thing and everything smelled so sharp - Luc wasn’t unfamiliar with the smell of blood, not with his streak of accidents, but it was so overwhelming here. The best he could do was turn his head into his shoulder, eyes clamped shut hard enough to hurt, huffing panicked breaths into his jacket. A roar cut through all the other noise, vibrating inside Luc’s skull and drawing a whimpered ‘fuck’ from between his lips.
And then Luc’s chair was jolted and his eyes flew open on instinct when he thought he might fall, immediately assaulted by light and terror and red. Red on the floor, red streaked across white fur, the fur of a creature - not an animal. It was moving so unnaturally, fast and focused and either hungry or angry, there was no way to tell which. The end result was the same, sharp teeth digging into skin and pulling, tearing and Luc didn’t want to see more but he was paralyzed by fear and even his eyelids wouldn’t obey.
It was horrible.
Bile burned his throat as everything that was meant to be inside a body was suddenly on the outside of it, men cried and cursed and pleaded and Luc realized he was pleading, too. He’d never been overtly religious, enjoying the traditions, the time spent with his moms and the general warmth of going to church but Luc found himself wishing he could reach for the cross around his neck all the same now. Maybe it had more to do with just wanting his mom instead of any sort of god. He definitely felt like a frightened little boy who just needed the comfort of his mom. At long last, his eyes had started to burn too painfully to stay open, squeezing shut and providing a false reprieve from the continued massacre, since the creature’s previous carnage just continued playing on the back of Luc’s eyelids.
A sharp howl startled Luc, burying itself in his ears next to the noises of destruction. Again, someone or something knocked into his chair, this time hard enough to knock it off balance. Luc barely felt the impact, numb from panic, but his hands did feel looser. Gasping for air, Luc dared open his eyes, not allowing them to look further than the puddle of blood not too far away from him. Sure enough, the chair had cracked and the added space allowed Luc to yank his hands free. He wanted to run, wanted to be brave enough to sprint away from the howling creature, but his legs didn’t obey so Luc settled for curling up. At least he could finally bury his face in his hands.
—--
The Monster felt heavy, sluggish. Full of meat and burdened by waning adrenaline that made its limbs leaden. The man beneath had his fight or flight but he had no hunt and this angered the creature. The weakness inherent made it growl, shake itself awake.
It lurched from behind the boxes, slower than before, but no less lethal as it launched itself forward to gore another soft man. But the creature did it slowly, cutting its teeth into the soft meat of its belly with a significant lack of haste that the still-alive man watched with white, wide eyes. Shock laid him to rest and then the blood loss emptied him out across the floor beneath the Monster.
The one or two men that remained made the choice to find their feet and flee. It didn’t give chase. Except for the sound of slow chewing and the lingering heartbeat close by, the room felt silent. The thrill quieted in the Monster’s wounded body and it raised its head from the mess of meat that it had made of the man’s stomach. It could curl up like this. It fought against sleep and made a wailing sound of defiance (man or beast) before its bones began to shift, crack again. The creature’s frame trembled as it lost its sharpness.
Through the mist of blood in its head, Jackie crawled through. His hands pushed through the splitting skin of the monster. He blinked down at the blood. Spit out the meat that clung to his lips. The taste of it all in his mouth, the smell of it on his skin. He fell away from the carcass below him and shuddered, gagged. Everything hurt. What happened? His throat choked on a sob. He pressed at his jaw, his teeth. His ribs. Even as they pulled back, made themselves smaller, they were his. He was going to be sick. He was sick. He felt wrong. He was wrong. An angry red line scored his side, opposite of his bite, and he cried out when he touched it.
He’d been shot? Had…Where was Luc? Jackie tried to speak but his throat felt raw. Wet. He felt so tired. He wanted to lay in the dirt but he fought to push himself up. The floor was slick but he needed to make sure. He had to know. Eyes covered in dried blood, he could hardly see. Hardly smell anything beyond it. It all smelled dead. Warm tears made track marks down his face, a small attempt at cleansing.
“Luc…” he managed. It felt like swallowing glass. “Luc, you okay? Are you here? Did they hurt you?”
—
Luc had never suspected that as a response to terrible things, he would be a fight. Really, he was perfectly happy to be a flight if it kept him out of trouble and the reality was, if it was just him? He thought he’d pick flight every time. Things got muddier when there were other people involved, people who didn’t deserve to get hurt and especially if they were people Luc cared about. It wouldn’t turn him into some sort of MMA fighter but it made running away less appealing. But Luc had never experienced the freeze response before, never like this. His whole body was lead and he felt detached from his body, too, somewhere far away, somewhere safer. Of course, Luc knew he wasn’t safe, was reminded of that with every fresh crunch of bones and wet noises of feeding he could hear even through the blood rushing in his ears.
Until it finally stopped.
His eyes still wouldn’t open, didn’t obey command despite how badly Luc wanted to survey the situation, see if this was his chance to finally run away (as if he could). Just as well, since they found a way to squeeze shut even harder as a pitiful wail echoed through the large area. It wasn’t human but it wasn’t entirely not human, either. It made Luc… sad.
The noises that followed were so miniscule compared to the carnage and they were far away, allowing Luc the space to continue hiding in plain sight. Until another cry rang out, decidedly more human than the last. The sound of someone in desperate need of help. In the same way Luc would never bother a server if he got his own order wrong but would be the first to speak up for his friend, his own terror and paralysis settled at the sound of someone worse off. It didn’t cross his mind that it might have been one of the men who had been willing to put a bullet in his head just moments earlier, Luc was simply roused by the terrified noise. Just as Luc’s stiff body slowly came to life, trembling and unsteady, his name was called.
“I’m here,” Luc croaked back, blinking at the scene that greeted him as he sat up, blinking again and again as if fit might make some of the blood disappear. His stomach rolled over, head filling with cotton as exposed entrails and headless bodies threatened to knock him out. His eyes finally found Jackie, just as covered in blood but human and alive. And hurt. Luc’s mind provided images of whatever lived inside Jackie breaking its way through but it was no match for how absolutely tragic Jackie’s eyes looked now.
After an initial stumble, Luc’s legs successfully carried him over to Jackie, some remaining survival instinct forcing the approach to be slow and tentative. There was no sign of the monster reappearing - only a man covered in red and wounded, but still managing to look more worried for Luc than himself. “We need–” Luc’s voice trembled and he gagged, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to take a steadying breath. “We need to call you an ambulance.” That made sense, right? Luc had no idea anymore.
—-
Jackie sucked in heavy breaths to fight the rising sickness in his human stomach. He couldn’t get sick there, he couldn’t add to the sea of carnage that he dipped his feet into. An instinct beaten into him forced him to remain standing, to remain conscious. An urgency to make sure made him move, find his footing. When Luc talked to him, he sighed out with such an overwhelming sense of relief, he choked on it. His heart seized on it.
He wanted to apologize to Luc. For everything, for the red and the teeth. The abandoned cottage cheese, that the only thing keeping Jackie decent was the worst and unfortunately best pair of sweatpants he had over owned. He wanted to laugh, to cry. Of course this would happen. He didn’t need the moon to make a mess of things. He looked at Luc with an unsaid sentiment of I’m sorry that you had the misfortune of meeting me. But he could fall into the shadow half of his bifurcated brain on his own time, away from who he had scared and what he had done.
“Oh thank God, it didn’t, I didn’t–” Jackie hesitated when Luc approached him and took a tentative step back. “You’re okay, you’re okay. That was–I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt you, right? You’re okay?” He needed to breathe. But every breath was filled with death and dried sweat. Luc seemed okay and worried for him and at that, Jackie did laugh. It was short-lived as the mention of an ambulance prompted him to quickly shake his head.
Ambulances meant lights. That Jackie would be taken away and put in a place to be poked and prodded at. And he was afraid of what would crawl out of him when that happened. In a place filled with fragility, he would do anything to keep from crashing into one. It would also mean questions. Cops. He looked around at what the creature had done and his head fogged up at the thought. His vision narrowed and he shook his head again to wake himself up.
“We don’t–It’s okay, I can walk it off, we need to get you somewhere safe. Away from…” The adrenaline was gone from him and it occurred to Jackie that he had never been shot, let alone shot at. It occurred to the rest of his body too as he swayed. One knee slowly hit the floor, then the other, and he sat back on his heels. He stared down at the bloody hands that rested on his lap. His eyelids felt so heavy. All of him did. “...I’m sorry, can you call someone? Please?”
–
In the midst of all this carnage, Luc was actually relieved to have someone just as distraught to focus on. Did Jackie even realize what had happened or had he just woken up surrounded by this mess and panicked? The thought had barely crossed Luc’s mind when Jackie vocalised his own thoughts, relief that Luc was safe not just from the men with the guns but from him. Well, from whatever lived inside Jackie, Luc wasn’t all the scared of the trembling man who couldn’t stop apologizing. Even if Luc didn’t feel very okay, he wasn’t hurt, not by Jackie. The back of his head had throbbed earlier but it was a dull ache now in the shadow of head being bitten clean off and stomachs being gouged. “You didn’t hurt me,” Luc confirmed, the reality of the situation settling. “Pretty sure…” Luc didn’t think calling Jackie or what Jackie could turn into an it was fitting considering their very basic level of friendship centered around healthy snacks and working out, “you saved us, actually.” That bullet would have been meant for Luc, the bullet that had instead cut its way through Jackie.
For that, Luc could respect the request of no ambulances. Even if Jackie was laughing and looking like he very much needed an ambulance but at least he was still on his feet– yeah, nevermind. Luc lurched forward, not hesitating at all as Jackie went down. A hand rested on Jackie’s bloody shoulder and Luc crouched, trying to gauge if the other man was about to pass out. The way his eyelids drooped wasn’t super reassuring. Call someone. But not an ambulance. An ambulance would probably mean questions and reports and explaining how something had torn through multiple armed men but not Luc or Jackie. Luc really didn’t think Jackie deserved to get into trouble for this. He sighed. At least Mickey’s gut was more equipped to handle this sort of scenario than Luc’s.
“I’ll call someone, alright? Someone you can trust. Just… please lay down? Let me put some pressure on it while we wait?” Jackie wasn’t really in a state to argue and Luc was again grateful to have something else to focus on, almost making the sharp smell of blood and death and guts bearable. Having shrugged off his short sleeved shirt, relieved for the extra layer of a tank top underneath because one shirtless person was probably plenty, Luc folded up the material and gently pressed it down over Jackie’s wound. His free hand reached for his phone and only while holding it up to his ear did Luc noticed just how bad his hand trembled. Try as he might to steady his voice, Luc got instantly choked up at the sound of Mickey’s voice on the other end.
“Hey… No, I’m fine. Sort of. But I– we could really use your help. Maybe bring some stuff for a… small bullet wound?”
@loveandluc replied to your post “What is your ideal midnight snack?”:
Definitely impressive that you manage a healthy midnight snack. Also, I'm stealing that.
Definitely, happy to provide. It used to be raw eggs but then I lost my career myself learned to love myself when it came to food. I heard some psychopaths interesting people will do cereal with water.
What's yours? Sorry in advance if it's cereal water.
