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LJ Idol, Season 10, Week 3: Brushback Pitch
“Let go of my fucking son.” Murdock moves in close.
Can smell the stench of his carnivore breath, feel it hot on my face. Heart’s in my throat, stomach right behind it. I gulp ‘em back, keep my knife hand steady. Keep my eyes on his, searing blue and all but shooting sparks. World goes dim, him and me and nothing else.
“Let go of him, you Umani piece of shit,” he growls, like I didn’t already hear him.
I smirk, my arm still tight around the kid. “Gotta give me what I want first, General.”
Course he can’t, not really. Can’t give me back the man I love, the man I lost. He’s gone for good ‘cause I tried to stall the war Murdock wants so bad, but --
Least I can finish what I fucking started.
Murdock glares, teeth bared. “I don’t have to give you anything.”
“Guess not.” I drop my gaze, focus on the blade. Blood wells up with just a tiny shift in pressure, almost black against the kid’s brown skin. Paints slick trails around the bruises on his neck. Kid’s silent, doesn’t move a fucking muscle. His eyes meet mine, calm as summer seas.
Air’s too thick, heavy in my lungs. Hands wanna shake, takes all my strength to hold ‘em still.
Murdock’s carved from fucking stone, a true Majerian. Folds his beefy arms across his chest and stares me down. “Why stop there?” He shakes his head. “Go ahead, cut deeper. Bleed him dry, for all I care. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
I swallow hard, mouth dry as desert dunes. “But he’s… your fucking kid.”
“He’s expendable.”
Kid goes stiff against me, lets out this little squeak. My hold on him relaxes and I stroke his hair with frozen fingers. Pulse pounds in my ears, throat closes up. No choice now, no way out --
Devin, sweetheart. Breathe.
I blink, remember why I’m here. Strain to hear that soft, sweet voice and let it ground me. Force myself to breathe in deep, be strong for him. I push the kid away, mouth one word at him:
Run.
“Everyone’s expendable,” I whisper when he’s gone.
I lift my shirt, reveal the wires bundled nice and neat above my shattered heart. Those ice-chip eyes of Murdock’s widen, fixed on my homemade bomb. His hand creeps toward his blaster and I grip my knife, white-knuckled. Raise it up and press its blade against my throat.
“Guess what happens if I fucking die,” I croak.
Can smell the stench of his carnivore breath, feel it hot on my face. Heart’s in my throat, stomach right behind it. I gulp ‘em back, keep my knife hand steady. Keep my eyes on his, searing blue and all but shooting sparks. World goes dim, him and me and nothing else.
“Let go of him, you Umani piece of shit,” he growls, like I didn’t already hear him.
I smirk, my arm still tight around the kid. “Gotta give me what I want first, General.”
Course he can’t, not really. Can’t give me back the man I love, the man I lost. He’s gone for good ‘cause I tried to stall the war Murdock wants so bad, but --
Least I can finish what I fucking started.
Murdock glares, teeth bared. “I don’t have to give you anything.”
“Guess not.” I drop my gaze, focus on the blade. Blood wells up with just a tiny shift in pressure, almost black against the kid’s brown skin. Paints slick trails around the bruises on his neck. Kid’s silent, doesn’t move a fucking muscle. His eyes meet mine, calm as summer seas.
Air’s too thick, heavy in my lungs. Hands wanna shake, takes all my strength to hold ‘em still.
Murdock’s carved from fucking stone, a true Majerian. Folds his beefy arms across his chest and stares me down. “Why stop there?” He shakes his head. “Go ahead, cut deeper. Bleed him dry, for all I care. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
I swallow hard, mouth dry as desert dunes. “But he’s… your fucking kid.”
“He’s expendable.”
Kid goes stiff against me, lets out this little squeak. My hold on him relaxes and I stroke his hair with frozen fingers. Pulse pounds in my ears, throat closes up. No choice now, no way out --
Devin, sweetheart. Breathe.
I blink, remember why I’m here. Strain to hear that soft, sweet voice and let it ground me. Force myself to breathe in deep, be strong for him. I push the kid away, mouth one word at him:
Run.
“Everyone’s expendable,” I whisper when he’s gone.
I lift my shirt, reveal the wires bundled nice and neat above my shattered heart. Those ice-chip eyes of Murdock’s widen, fixed on my homemade bomb. His hand creeps toward his blaster and I grip my knife, white-knuckled. Raise it up and press its blade against my throat.
“Guess what happens if I fucking die,” I croak.
no subject
I love everything about this piece but ugh my fucking heart when Devin hears Jazz's voice like. Fuck you for that. Fuck you so hard.
Also Devin is still my favorite and this piece is 10000% why. Really. Truly. I just wish he'd let the poor reader know that Kalen's actually in on this plan but I do like that he told him to run and let him go. <3
Also also I know this isn't exactly what you set out to write but I love the tag I DON'T CONTROL MY CHARACTERS because it's so fucking trueeee omg. <3
no subject
Devin is only my favorite when I don't have to write him. And DAMMIT, I knew there was more context I wanted to poke him with and see if he'd let me fit it in somewhere. Although he seemed pretty dead set on pretending he didn't know Kalen, so -- DAMMIT. Was that supposed to be a big, twisty reveal?
*sigh* They never tell me these things. I knew I was missing something.
But yes, dat tag. It is accurate. Someday, I'll write the scene I intend to write. xD