#hitkills

“I don’t want to fight you. I’ll spar at most, but not until you calm down.”

          panic ?  no , he doesn’t think that’s the word.  worry is more close to being correct , but he still isn’t positive that’s the way to describe it.  but tony’s right - he hasn’t shut his mouth once since he’s been here , since he’s been sitting around this table with the other people in this prideful posse.  he’s just out of place - right on the corner of belonging and being completely wrong.  maybe it’s his mask’s contrast with the more . . . feral others lying upon the tabletop face-up.

          but he still feels something.  and this is what he deserves because if he had kept his words to himself instead of commenting on something in regards to corey - a dark haired woman ( pretty , quiet ) sitting at the other end of the table , he wouldn’t be in this situation.  bowie brings his hands to try and grip at the other man’s , quiet noises of irritation and struggle managing to slip out in the process.  he just isn’t strong enough for this.

          “ huh ? ” she’s been moving furniture around her small apartment for the past hour or so , interrupted as hands grip the side of the couch and slide it into place against the wall on the far side of the room.  corey sends a glance to the door , locks of dark hair slipped in her line of vision , but she’s still able to fully recognize the figure leaning in the entrance.

ABSTRACT.

         he can remember the first time he saw them take another pawn of 50 BLESSINGS away from the public eye.  jacket can remember standing at a parking meter near the south side of the mall , paying for his hour of silent wandering , when his eyes caught glimpse of a man dressed in a fine white suit just out of their full field of vision.  a blur , in fact , and maybe he wouldn’t have been too concerned if crimson hadn’t been lain across the concrete so freshly.  he can remember his silent worry , the feeling in his gut as if his heart had dropped from its position safely in his chest and to the bottom of his stomach without a net to catch it ; a sick feeling that which the miami heat did not aid in diminishing much at all.  jacket turned to follow the trail into the darkened corner of the alley connecting the two wings of the mall—- but what he saw as he leaned to send his gaze into that dim light made him feel nothing but uselessness.

         they had her on her knees ; a woman with strawberry blonde hair and emerald eyes that could’ve cut the darkness had they not been surrounded by disgusting bruises.  to the left of the man on the far right lay a mask , though it was too far to really see.  the girl wasn’t frowning , no , and she wasn’t crying - begging - pleading.  she was smiling - smiling this big toothy smile where the blood stained her white teeth and poured over her bottom lip.  they kept asking her questions and if she did not give them the answers they expected within the time frame that they were satisfied with , they would give her another hit.  jacket was able to watch until they brought out their weapons - then he was forced to avert his eyes and choke back the rage.

         he can remember the urge to sprint back to his car.  he can remember the want to lay his fingers upon that rubber rooster mask , place it on its spot upon his head to conceal what was left of his innocent identity.  jacket can remember the want to kill them all - break their bones with his bare hands.  he can remember not doing any of what his mind provoked him to do.

         that was the first time RICHARD had won the battle over mind versus body.

         instead , he had waited.  he had paced along the sidewalk , drawing many a curious eye to his obvious dismay until there was nowhere else to look but back to the entrance to that alleyway.  and as he had turned , he had seen the men return to their spots , wiping their knuckles clean of blood with handkerchiefs and taking their positions they had held previously.  they returned without another second of hesitation ; without nothing but a simple warning given to that girl.

          he doesn’t have to look in a mirror to know that the right side of his face is littered with cuts and soaked with blood - the shrapnel of the explosion prior to this moment having an unfortunate and everlasting effect on his hearing.  a high pitched , shrill shriek to encompass his mind and blur everything conscious into the background.  the side of his head where a rubber mask once lay is bare , and although the rest of it stays intact and struggling to hide his identity . . . jacket seems to notice there’s a wider angle for him to see a somewhat familiar face through.

          a voice snaps him out of his daze , muffled and low beneath the face of a tiger.  the mask looks haggard , a bloody splatter to surround the left eye as if a bullet had entered and never returned.  that couldn’t be true , right ?  another figment of his fucked up imagination taking control to show his eyes what could be . . . but isn’t ?  jacket’s wide-eyed stare , despite the left being still hidden behind the confines of the remains of his mask , tries to peer through the eye holes of the man standing over him----  just to see if he is real.