first story of @badthingshappenbingo's bingo :)
words; 899
characters; Achak Quinn, unnamed dude
warnings; mentions of death/murder, beating, blood, very tiny abrupt breakdown cry session, and swearing. nothing too extreme i think for the first story
prompt: pistol whipping (aka using a pistol to beat someone)
continuation of this story. this story takes place before this one.
Recovering from an episode was never easy- especially one so strong.
Achak blinked away the lingering images in his eyes, the taste of blood being registered on his tongue. His whole body left groggy and almost lost as he tried to sit up, coughing a bit.
“Fuck me…” The investigator groaned as the soreness was felt more when he moved. The ringing in his ears started to sizzle away along with the sound of the ghost box- completely silent.
As much as Achak would've loved to just relax and get his bearings- he couldn't. He heard the backyard door being opened, which meant the house owner would find him. He would know about Finly and her body. He huffed with effort as he dragged himself out from the small crack behind the shed, abandoning the tarp covered body to be collected later.
The owner watched as Achak stumbled with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and he knew he had been caught. “The hell are you doing back there?”
Achak spat out some of the blood before turning to see the man reach over for something near the door he couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a thank you gift.
“I saw it all,” Achak started, trying to talk the man out of whatever stupid lash back he'd try. Taking, standing, and trying to focus was so much harder than what it should be. He felt like he was stumbling over himself like an idiot- like his mental engine was sputtering. “If you try anything else, your sentence will be worse. You don't want this.”
“There won't be a sentence if no one finds out.” The detective blinked a few more times, trying to refocus his eyes like a camera lense as the man held up a long brown…thing.
A baseball bat.
The owner charged at Achak with an animalistic roar, holding up the bat. Achak’s vision immediately blurred over again when the man came towards him too fast for him to register- but he wasn't completely blind. Gritting his already sore teeth, Achak held up his arms for self defense.
The hit was right where Achak hoped it would land- somewhere on either of his arms. When the bat slammed into his right arm his left one moved and grabbed the bat before the owner could pull back.
The man tugged the bat, but Achak already had a firm death grip on it. With his right arm still thrumming from pain, the detective reached down underneath his coat towards his belt for his gun.
When his hand found the holster, it was as easy as grabbing the grip of the pistol and bringing it up towards the assailant with as much force as he could muster. A hardy metallic thud filled Achak’s ears as the pistol made direct contact with the man. He wasn't too sure where he hit him, but it sounded painful.
The owner staggered back with a pain filled groan, dropping his bat in favor of clutching his wounded area. After Achak focused again, he realized it was the man’s head- there was a red mark already forming on the man’s face. Time was of the essence now.
Achak tossed his gun aside and grabbed the bat with both hands, and with more focused aim he quickly slammed the bat into the owner’s leg. He toppled over, the pain being too much for one person to handle.
The detective would've loved to give it a few more whacks as a payback for Finly, but he quickly reminded himself that he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. So instead he scrambled to find some discarded rope nearby as the man withered in the grass.
With rope in hand Achak grabbed one of the man’s arms, and then the other. The visions of Finly simmered again as he came in contact with the murderer, but he forced himself through it.
The man wiggled in his bindings, his face even redded with anger. “Let me fucking go! I'll kill you!”
Achak didn't even pay him mind, he simply walked to where he tossed his gun and slipped it back into the holster. Still ignoring the owner yelling out obscenities, Achak made his way through the house until he was exiting through the front door again. He unlocked his car and grabbed the small little walkie talkie. He pressed the button on the side and spoke.
“Dispatch, this is Achak. I need backup at 125 Carty Street. Suspect in custody, but I need assistance securing the scene and transporting the suspect. Over."
A familiar voice responded. "Copy that, Achak. Backup is en route. Hold tight, buddy.”
Achak sighed with relief he hadn't felt for the entire time he's been here. He pressed the button again to give a quick reply back. “Thank you, Averyll.”
He didn't get a response back this time, but it was okay. Backup was coming and he'd be able to get this mess wrapped up and the case could start going underway. The detective leaned against his car as the stress of the situation started to settle in- his breathing getting slightly ragged and tears prickled in his eyes. Achak let out a shaky sigh as he wiped the tears away, the smell of lavender filling his nose with every sniffle.
No case was ever easy.











