Work Text:
Bandites orders a pint and glares at the bartender, daring him to say something. He doesn't. He just sighs and starts to pour it.
This is the only bar he comes to anymore. There's others down the street, but this is the one he performed in last, the one where the bartenders know him.
"Do you want another song, folks? We're here all night, so make it count!" Bandites yelled, to cheers. Not everyone enjoys their scene, but the folks that do love them.
"You reckon we'll be asked to play Weapons again?" Tap joked during the lull.
"I bet 10 dollars we will." Rain said with a smirk.
"You ass, that's my money you're betting!" Rekt hissed, but he was smiling nonetheless - he'd probably just claim the money if Rain won. "Tanqr, you joining in?"
Bandites looked over at his lead guitarist. Tanqr, at the mention of his name, seemed to snap out of some kind of trance and nod.
"I'll bet 20."
So none of them say anything when Bandites shows up these days. He doesn't play anymore. He doesn't think he's stared at a sheet of music or sung a full song since it happened. He's tried, but then the memories flood back and he has to do something, anything, to flush them out of his system.
"Your beer."
Bandites nods thanks and drinks part of it. He's able to drink somewhat with some level of composure, at least. Depending on how drunk he gets tonight, that might change. The bartender - what's his name again? He doesn't remember, maybe he never knew in the first place - watches him as he does so.
"Thanks." he mutters.
"…You really should talk to someone, Bandites." the bartender says after a while. "This isn't healthy."
Bandites sighs. The people here know what happened, or at least they know part of it. They know why he's getting drunk instead of singing on the stage. He's the only bartender that's bothered to check in on him, which he supposes he should take as a good thing, but he's not looking to get sober or get better. He's perfectly fine drowning in his own misery and booze.
Not like he has anyone whose lives would get better if he got sober anyway. The bartender might be nice, but he still earns money off this. Bandites' parents are long gone. And his band, his only friends…
"Tanqr, are you alright?" Bandites asked. They'd been looking for him for a while - what was he thinking, running off into the woods alone?! - but now he was back, Bandites worried there was more to it.
"I'm fine." Tanqr mumbled, but he didn't look at anyone while doing so - didn't even blink, just stared at the ground and shuddered.
"Dude, you're twitching and stuff." Rekt's words sounded carefree, but he did genuinely seem concerned. "Sit down, you can tell us what happened after."
Bandites bit his lip as Rekt and Rain led Tanqr off into the side room, he was practically stumbling inside. He knew he should say what's going on. But Tanqr asked him not to, so he wouldn't. They could talk privately later.
If he had said something, would things have gone differently? Would the other three have agreed to take Tanqr back to the city so he could see someone? Bandites isn't sure. From what happened next, Bandites doesn't know if Tanqr would've just-
Rekt screamed. He'd gone in to check on Tanqr and he'd screamed.
The others ran inside, Bandites got in there last. He still got there in time to see Rekt stumble from the room, weakly slamming the door behind him, desperately trying to hold it closed, blood and splinters stuck in his head.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Rain yelled, immediately running to help Rekt and get him away while Bandites held the door shut.
Because he could see Tanqr trying to break it down.
Bandites takes another swig of his drink. No more. He doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to think about the blood and the screaming and the pain he doesn't want to think about any of it at all-
The bartender taps the table, making him jump.
"You were shaking a bit there."
"Ah." Bandites laughs mirthlessly and takes another sip.
"Bandites, please. You're spiralling. You barely used to drink before this, why-"
"Let me spiral further then. I don't care." Bandites hisses. "I don't care! I don't exactly have anything left to lose, do I?"
The bartender just nods and walks off to serve another customer. Good. Let him wallow in his own self pity. What he deserves.
"I don't know what it is, Bandites, but it won't stop." Tanqr whispered, terrified. "The music keeps getting louder, I keep seeing those fucking soldiers everywhere- why won't it stop?"
"I- I don't know." Bandites replied - how else are you supposed to reply to your best friend randomly hallucinating? "You really should-"
"I'm not going to a doctor about this, they'll charge me 100 quid just to throw me in the loony bin!" Tanqr angrily retorted, then quickly tried to calm himself down. "No, no- I can't yell, I- Bandites, I don't want to hurt anybody. I don't want to hurt anyone. If I start to get violent, you have to stop me, okay?"
"Oh- uh?" Bandites wasn't sure Tanqr would actually end up hurting someone - it's just hallucinations, right? - but he wants to help his best friend out. "Sure."
Tanqr smiled - one of the few genuine ones he'd given as of late.
"Thank you."
Did he succeed? Some would say he did, but he absolutely didn't. Tanqr was still able to claim three lives before Bandites was finally able to make good on his promise.
He didn't even act like it happened. He lied that his best friend didn't turn into a murderer, in a desperate attempt to hold onto the good memories instead of the memories of Tanqr covered in his bandmates' blood, shouting at him to stop running. Was that even his best friend, in the end, or whatever consumed him whole?
"And what happened to Tanqr Titanium?"
"Um- he got shot. I saw him go down, but Rain and I were running from the killer and couldn't do anything to help him."
"Did you see where he got shot? We never found his body, Bandites White. Are you certain he was shot?"
"Yes."
In the alcohol's haze, Bandites is able to ignore the pain, if only for a tiny bit. The bartender's right. He didn't always get drunk like this. He had a good life before, he didn't understand why he'd see divorced fathers and old men drinking their lives away without an inch of fun in it. His parents were gone, but he wasn't close to them anyway. The band was his family. Now he gets it.
"Rekt, Rekt, stay with me-" Rain repeated, over and over as his brother lay limp in his arms. Bandites could barely focus on that as he desperately tried to get the chain around the lock as Tanqr screamed at him, screamed about being locked up, screamed that he'd kill them, he'd kill all of them-
Rekt could barely talk. He wasn't moving anymore.
Bandites watched as the life left Rekt Way's eyes and the blood and brain bits hit the floor. It's not the dull look that he'll remember, not the sight of the drummer's skull caved in, but the scream Rain let out when it became clear his brother was gone.
He forgets the little details in the alcoholic haze. The fact that Rain had a collection of gemstones that he'd meticulously sort. The fact that Rekt spent hours dying his and his bandmates' hair, that he was the only one they'd trust to do it. The fact that, singers be damned, Tap was the only one who could harmonise on cue. The fact that Tanqr, despite living in the US for who knows how long, still called chips 'crisps' and refused to budge on that.
He forgets the little details, the good bits, and he's not able to forget how it all went wrong.
"You knew?!" Tap yelled, standing outside as they all saw the slashed tires on Bandites's truck. "You knew he was going insane and you didn't tell us?"
"He begged me not to tell any of you." Bandites retorted, though there's no emphasis behind it. "He- he was desperate to keep it a secret, he didn't-"
"That doesn't fucking matter, Bandites! If someone says 'I think I might kill someone', you listen to them and you don't let them near anybody!"
"I just thought he was hallucinating and panicking! I didn't think he was serious-"
Rain slapped him. Hard. He doesn't protest.
Tanqr Titanium was a good man. He didn't have love for many people, but he genuinely cared about his band and saw them like family too. He would feed the stray cats that would pass by their house, talked about wanting a cat for his own some day. He'd joke about his brother and yet would still call him every week, making sure he was alright.
None of that mattered the moment he picked up that guitar and smashed it over Rekt's head. None of that mattered the moment he lost his mind.
Did he deserve to have his secrets spilled like that? Bandites doesn't know. He doesn't want to. But Tap and Rain were right, he shouldn't have agreed to take Tanqr to that cabin, he shouldn't have let him go alone, he should've been better. Maybe then they wouldn't all be dead. Maybe then he wouldn't be here, alone in this bar, drinking his life away.
What he wouldn't give for one last chance to see his group, to see Tanqr as himself, to perform one last song. What he wouldn't give to smack some sense into his past self like Rain had tried to, to tell his past self to cherish it.
The chain was unlocked. The chain was unlocked. It was broken. Tanqr was gone and they didn't know where he was.
Bandites was panicking, Rain was curled up in the corner sobbing, Tap was the only one searching, only one doing anything.
Bandites tried to scream for Tap to look behind him, but nothing came out, not in time. The keys were already through Tap's throat, and the look of betrayal Tap had on his face will haunt him for the rest of his days.
Bandites finishes the pint. He orders another one. The same bartender as before is the one to pour it, so he makes an offer as he passes it to him.
"You can talk to me, if you need."
"Fuck off." Bandites says on impulse, then shakes his head. He should at least try not to be an asshole. "Sorry. I don't want to talk about it."
"…Alright."
You wouldn't get it. You wouldn't get half of it.
Plus, he'd already talked to someone about it anyway.
People not 'getting it' was something he'd thought about when he went to that Foundation place. He didn't think it was supernatural, not until he saw the soldiers Tanqr was worrying about the whole time, the ones Bandites had just passed off as hallucinations. Not until he saw Rekt and Tap amongst their ranks, seemingly not even recognising him.
The Head Archivist guy - Russo, he thinks - looked him up and down and sighed. Pitying. Yeah, obviously.
It only a week or so after it happened, when the screams and the nightmares and the soldiers were still fresh in his mind. He could barely get through the police interviews without breaking down into tears or rage. But, despite how kind this man seemed, he felt trapped under his gaze and felt like he was able to speak.
"Are you sure you want to do this now?" Russo asked tentatively.
"Just get it over with."
Russo nodded.
"Statement of Bandites White, regarding the deaths of the Rodeo Gang. Statement given directly by subject, November 7th, 2024. Statement begins."
Bandites is fairly certain his nightmares got worse after he talked about it. They were supposed to get better if he talked to someone. Whatever.
BANG!
Bandites grips the mug of his beer- his third? However many he's on now. He's barely feeling it yet. Guess he's building up a tolerance.
Rain's on the ground, still breathing, blood spilling out of his mouth, hole in his stomach. Bandites stares up at Tanqr - what was once Tanqr - red dripping down his face from the bottle that was smacked against his head, eyes seemingly glowing bright crimson, staring at Bandites with nothing but hate, holding the bloody guitar stem he'd driven into Rain, the one he'd used to bash Rekt's skull in, to beat Tap to the ground so he couldn't get away.
Bandites stares at Tanqr and pleads for him to snap out of it, to stop, to let one more person survive. Tanqr gets ready to lunge.
Bandites is a good shot. He holds the gun up and looks away as he aims it at Tanqr's eye.
BANG!
It's the door, Bandites reminds himself. It's the door, it's not a gun. It's just the door.
Bandites looks behind him to see two men walk in, one with a hat and pink feathery tattoos on his arms, one with a red plaid shirt and dyed hair. Not Rekt, though he did flinch for a second. This one's got brown and blonde hair and a weird looking mouse hat, not ginger and red.
Bandites sighs and takes another sip of his drink. It's fine, they won't be a problem. It's fine.
(In a couple of hours, everything he went through means that Bandites will notice when the man in plaid is far too drunk for safety when no one else does. He may not be sober himself, but he will be able to get him to safety. Sometimes, that is enough.)