Chapter Text
After having your little one man pity party in the corner booth of the McDonald's, you figured that you should probably get your angsty teen ass out of their restaurant before one of the staff would have to ask if you were ok. You did want to talk to someone, but there was no way in hell that you would endure the awkwardness of dumping that emotional trashpile onto a cashier and then never being able to return to this location ever again. Really, you were considering never showing your face in this Micky D's after this, there's no way you'd be able to come back after that.
You only realize after stepping into the cool, almost freezing, night air that you don't have a ride home and where you are is hella far from where you live. You go to call your shitty guardian, but you find that your phone is dead. Oh, well. They probably wouldn't pick up even if you did call. This leaves you walking home at almost midnight with nothing but a thin fall jacket to cover your freezing hide. You'd congratulate yourself for having wonderful planning skills and wearing a tiny jacket during winter, but you weren't really planning to walk home in the first place, so you can seem to find it in yourself to forgive the transgression. The cold is really easy to ignore though, considering how straight up numb you're feeling. You're having trouble even registering in your mind that Sollux and Eridan would do that. Are they telling everyone else about it while you walk home? What was even so bad about what you said that they'd abandon you? The sinking sadness in your gut is slowly turning into a cold, hard resentment. How dare they? Not even a word about why they would just up and fucking leave, and they think that it would just be ok?
You're about halfway home, and by that point, the pit of resentment has turned into a full blown burning rage. Bright cherry red and angry at the world, you know that if it was possible the ground beneath every footstep you take would be charred and blackened. Your fire isn't even directed at your two best friends anymore, it just seems to be there. Angry at the world for being the way it is, angry at people for not doing anything to make it better. In the back of your mind you question where it comes from, but the thought is washed away by blood and heat and never ending malice. You don't even notice the car pulling up behind you until a sharp, shiny black oxford shoe clicks on the frost covered pavement behind you.
"Hey, kid, didn't you say you wouldn't tell anyone about us? C'mon, you made yourself a liar-" It sounds like he wants to keep speaking, but you already know who it is, and you whip around so fast to look at him you know you heard something snap. Although, you really didn't expect the suit-clad man to take a step back. Really, what type of murder is scared of a fucking highschooler?
"Hey, asshole." Again, a thought resting just beyond your current area of thinking is saying that you sound oddly and eerily like Karkat. "Come back to finish me off? So scared that the word of a traumatized child is gonna fuck you up?" You take another step forward, and for whatever reason, he takes another step back.
If you were to assign a color to your current line of thinking, for any particular reason, it would be red. It would be a bright, blazing, cherry red.
Blood red.
You feel white hot, the pounding of blood in your head blurring out rational thought and reasoning, and to be completely honest, you just really, really want to break this pretentious murder dickhead's nose. You, sadly, do not get the chance to do so, because someone much larger than you is wrapping their thick muscled arms around your waist and lifting. Even if you can't channel your newfound power into fucking up the dude in front of you, you think you might be able to use it on the dude behind you. You launch your leg forward with as much strength as you can muster, and using gravity and the natural movement of your leg, you drive your heel directly into the crotch of the person holding you.
Bullseye, motherfucker.
You thank every god you can think of that he falls onto his back, and the force of you and the fall makes his arms fall slack enough for you to slip out. Although you still want to fight these guys, you know you are severely outnumbered. So, when you can't fight? Flight is always the next best option. You run.
As stated before, your dark vision is balls to the wall excellent, and even through the haze of adrenaline you can tell that some otherworldly force is boosting that shit to the highest level, because as you run, the street is clear as day. The voices behind you are blurring into one aggravated noise, but you don't let that slow you down at all. You have, what, maybe thirty seconds at the most before they can all get back into the car and chase after you. There is an alleyway very, very close by. You just gotta make it to that and you'll be fine-
Oh. That was definitely a gunshot. You don't think that it hit you, because you can't feel shit right now, but that theory is disproved when you hit the ground like a sack of potatoes with a hole in your leg. Awesome. This is just a great night. You are most definitely having the time of your fucking life.
"Nice try, kid." Click, click, click, the man's shoes make a distinctive sound on the pavement. The hand that threads itself into your hair is anything but gentle, and the way he pulls your face off the ground to look into your eye is even less so. "Y'know that you're gonna pay for that move, right? Shoulda thought about that before telling those two. Well, you ain't gonna make that mistake again. You won't really be able to, anyway."
His chuckle is like knives sliding against each other. Grating and dangerous.
"We'll talk more when you're in a bit of a... better condition?" He smiles. Pointed teeth like his can't be natural, and you know it. "Later. Nighty night, kiddo."
Then he rears your head back and slams it into the pavement.