Bloodsport ; tommy shelby

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 - violent ends

"Don't make a noise," Ivan threatened, his voice quivering with anger.

Iris gulped. She had never seen Ivan this angry, with beads of sweat on his bloody forehead and a wild look in his eyes. He held her up against a cobbled wall holding a knife to her throat with one shaking hand and her wrist in another. She couldn't run, she couldn't reach for her pistol.

It was over for her now. She had missed the opportunity to slip through his fingers again.

"You were with him, weren't you?" He fumed.

Iris shook her head quickly. "Please, Ivan—"

"Don't lie," he spat, slapping her across the face. "Fucking whore."

Iris gulped, her cheek stinging. She slowly turned to meet his eye.

"Who are you?" He looked at her with disgust. "You are not the woman I married."

"I was nineteen," Iris whispered. "Hardly a woman."

"I made a mistake trying to find you," he grimaced.

Iris swallowed. "Kill me then," she said firmly. "Look into my eyes and do it."

For a second Iris thought about him cutting her throat. She'd slump to the ground, live her last moments on the cold cobbled streets of Small Heath. Tommy might find her there, if Ivan didn't dump her body, but at least this would all be over.

The thought crossed her mind and sent a shiver down her spine. She might have been weakened by love, but she wasn't going to give up.

Iris had spent her entire adult life determined to keep herself alive, even when she had nothing to live for, and she finally did. She wouldn't give up now, even if it meant she had to keep running.

A small yowl from a cat to their left distracted Ivan for a second, long enough for him to instinctively lower his knife. The adrenaline that had been solidly pumping through her veins for the past eight hours meant Iris could act quickly, and grab his hand.

He turned back with wild eyes as she shook his wrist, digging her fingernails into his skin until he was forced to drop the knife. She swung her knee up so it hit him square on the balls and he fell back onto the cobbles.

Still gripping his wrist with full force, Iris slammed a foot down on his torso to keep him down as she fumbled for her revolver.

There was one bullet left. A Russian Roulette.

Iris pointed the gun at him, breathing heavily. She cocked it slowly, trying to avoid his eyes.

He laughed sadistically. "You can't do it."

"Shut up," she said, tears forming in her eyes. She cocked the gun shakily.

"You know my brother will find you, Katerina," Ivan warned. "It won't be over if you kill me."

Even in death, Ivan still had a hold on her life.

"I know you don't really want to, Katerina," he said softly. "A part of you still wants me like I want you."

Iris pursed her lips, her hands shaking as she adjusted her grip on the gun. "Shut up," she muttered again.

"Shoot me then," he dared her.

Iris' finger stroked the trigger. Every second that passed and she couldn't pull it, Iris hated herself more.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her leg. She winced, looking down at where Ivan had slashed her with his knife. She grabbed it from his hand and threw it down the street, but lost her balance in the process.

He pushed her onto the cobbles as he attempted to pull himself up, but she punched him square in the mouth. A tingle ran through her body as he fell backwards, and she scrambled for her gun again.

Instead of cocking and shooting, Iris held it down across his neck, pushing it down on his throat.

"Katerina—" he spluttered through a bloody mouth. She pushed down farther. Iris shut her eyes for a second, ignoring the look of desperation on his face as he fought for breath. Still, after everything he'd done, almost couldn't bring herself to let him die.

On the other side of that feeling was pure anger. He had ruined her life, and he deserved to die. Iris opened her eyes again, staring into his eyes until the breathing and the spluttering stopped and his head flopped back onto the stone road.

He was dead. She had killed him. Iris stared down at the body in disbelief, slowly standing up. She reached down to his limp hands and pulled off the wedding ring, placing it into her palm. Stone cold dead.

It took a minute before reality set in, in the form of the sound of a baby crying through a window nearby. Iris looked down at her bloody hands and around the empty alleyway. She needed to leave before someone found her over a dead body.

Iris allowed herself one more stare at Ivan's face, his dead body in the gutter before fleeing, but as she made her way through the streets she instantly regretted it. The image scored itself into her mind, and she couldn't get rid of it for a second as she ran home.

She washed her hands frantically under the tap, rushing around the room. He was dead. She had really killed him. Every few seconds Iris saw his cold, dead face again in her mind's eye, and she wanted to be sick.

There were a few old pieces of paper scattered around the room, and Iris took one. She grabbed a pen and sat down, beginning to write.

Tommy, she began. I'm sorry it's come to this...

♞

Polly Gray was having a sleepless night. She had been experiencing a few of those lately, and found it was best for her to simply sit and watch the street from her window rather than lie restlessly in bed. The sun had just begun to rise, and the empty streets outside were coloured by a dusty, almost purple hue.

The faint sound of the letterbox caught Polly's ears as she stared off at the sky, deep in thought. Her head snapped down towards the street below, and she noticed Iris Hancock posting an envelope through the front door of Polly's house. The woman pursed her lips in concern, starting up from bed and down the stairs.

The letter sat just below the front door, with the name Thomas scrawled onto the front of the envelope. Polly picked it up and opened the front door, starting out onto the street.

Iris had her back turned as she made her way down the street.

"Where do you think you're going?" Polly called, and the girl stopped in her tracks.

Iris turned around slowly. There were tears in her blue eyes.

"Just give Tommy that letter, please?" She asked.

"Give it to him yourself," Polly said.

"I can't, I have something to do," Iris sniffed.

"Why can't you tell him yourself?" Polly asked again.

Iris sighed, blinking back tears. "I'm going to the station," she said. "Tell him I'm sorry. And give him the letter."

Polly looked down at the envelope in her hands. It was light, but Polly had a feeling whatever was in it was going to cause her nephew some large measure of pain. Polly looked back up at Iris, but by the time she did, the girl had disappeared.

Off into the dusk she went, just as mysteriously as she'd arrived.