** Death, mentions of stalking, mentions of horrible backstories. Read at your own discretion.**
Silent. Always silent. Always watching from the shadows, close enough to be seen yet funnily enough, never seen anyway. I had perfected the art of melting into the shadows, becoming one with the darkness and companion only to observation.
I watched as Toby dragged Tim's unconscious form into the desolate mansion. I watched as (Name) directly hit Jeff in the face with enough mace to ward off an adult bear.
And as I watched, I snickered to myself. If he would have just listened.
Tim was by far not the brightest; he much too often would act on pure impulse rather than logical deduction. He could be, for lack of better terms, a complete asshole. He could be cruel, unforgiving, irrational, excessively violent. His vocabulary was less than couth and his hands seemed to react before his brain ever had the chance.
But above everything else, he was my partner. More than a partner; Tim had become my brother. Not related by blood, but having saved each other's lives more than handful of times accounted for it. He would run his mouth to me for hours on end about all the ways my existence tainted his life, but at the end of the day, he would defend me with everything he had. And I knew that.
But watching him fall victim to the eyelash batting of some irrelevant hostage belonging to none other than Eyeless Jack was extremely entertaining, and provided me with some ammunition of my own to relentlessly tease him with later on.
I watched as Toby unceremoniously dumped Tim just beyond the threshold of the front door, then making a mad-dash to the screaming Jeffrey.
I made sure to take note of that, as proxies were not meant to be fraternizing with associates unless it was in regards to business. Friendships lead to alliances, and alliances lead to unnecessary death. I'd hate to see the kid go, but if the boss ordered it, it would be done without hesitation.
I didn't care much for Toby, and from what I had been able to hear from the others, I definitely wasn't the only one. He wasn't useless; the kid could throw his twin hatchets with lethal precision, and should both his hatchets be out of order, his combat skills made up for it. He was a force to be reckoned with, but he often let his emotions take reign of him, occasionally hearing some sort of music when he got really pissed off. He had claimed to be emotionless multiple times, but having to make the claim more than once showed me all I needed to be shown. He was just a kid, and because of that fact, I sympathized with him.
I was just a kid when it all happened, too. It was terrifying at first; no amount of conditioning would get rid of those terrible memories. He had targeted us, two kids just trying to survive the awkwardness of ending high school and going to college. There was nothing special about us; we were two average guys with a small circle of friends and an even smaller knowledge of what we were going to do next. And, back then, I had thought about why he had chose us quite a bit. Why me? Why Tim?
But I really should have been asking why not us? The answers had always been in my questions; we had a very little list of friends, a small circle that wouldn't really raise too much concern if we were to go missing one day. And an even smaller knowledge of what we were going to do next. We had discussed with our very small friend group our ideas of leaving and going to college out of state or even out of country. We didn't know where we wanted to go, but we were restless; we were teenagers overrun with angst and unfounded hatred for our little town.
Tim and I ended up seeing a lot more of the world than we had ever bargained for.
I shook my head slightly to jumble the reminiscing and made my way from my bedroom to where Tim had been left. I had seen Toby yell something about the girl at Jeff, and then hurriedly take off into the woods just before I had turned away from the unassuming window. Such a perfect location my room was; if I looked out my window, I was able to see nearly the entire driveway and front lawn, yet if you were standing in the front lawn or driveway, you'd never be able to see the window.
I descended the stairs that led up to the bedrooms reserved for associates and proxies and made my way over to him, crouching next to him once I reached him.
"Toby's running into the woods for her,"
He grumbled incoherently and began to stir. Sitting up slowly, he raised a hand to his head, groaning.
"I'd be fucking running too if I were him,"
I stood, offering my hand to steady him as he propped himself on his knees to stand.
"We need to end this, Tim. Jack has been taking much too long in completing his mission. It's time,"
He swayed a bit as he stood, silently glaring at the floor as he did so. I knew he didn't want to hear me, and he knew he didn't want to hear me. But it was true. Jack had taken much longer to complete this assignment than he had with any other; it was time to end it. The girl was causing more trouble than she was worth, and met one too many of the associates and proxies. She knew too much and held too much emotional power over some of the more dangerous and unpredictable ones, and it had to be stopped immediately.
"Aren't you normally against killing, Brian?"
He had paused a long moment before speaking; it was unlike him, and his pause was enough to tell me that he wasn't particularly thrilled about having to do damage control on this one.
"I'd rather us intervene before Master does,"
He considered me for a moment, then solemnly nodded.
"Yeah, I guess it's gone on for too long,"
He pulled his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, pulling the lighter out with it.
"She's got a grip on us, Brain,"
He chuckled as he lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply and slowly before exhaling, a billow of smoke curling from his lips and out into the mansion, only to dissipate into nothing.
"And you know that's why it has to end. She's seen to much, and she knows too much,"
He nodded silently in agreement, yet held a deeply forlorn look on his face. It was actually quite pathetic. He had known her for the entirety of half a day and already was acting like he was losing some sort of soulmate.
"Don't give me that fucking look, asshole,"
He sneered, blowing a cloud of smoke directly in my face.
"Don't do that, it's disgusting."
I waved the smoke from my face, coughing from the horridly intense stench.
"If you would have just one fucking conversation with her, I bet you wouldn't feel the same as you do right now."
I shook my head in the negative. I wasn't in the mood for conversations. She had done enough damage and had caused enough discord within the Operation for an entire lifetime. Even after her death, I was sure that I'd never be free of her name.
"That time has long passed. At this point, it's her or us, Tim. You know that,"
He took the final drag of his cigarette, and tossed it out the open front door only to step on it as he nodded toward the swiftly darkening forest.
"Let's go then,"
I nodded, falling in stride behind him.
As we approached the tree-line, he glanced over at me over his shoulder.
"Just so you know, I'm really not fucking happy about this one."
I nodded. I didn't know what to say, and surely didn't have the right words even if I had wanted to say something. I couldn't comfort him and tell him it was okay to feel that way, because it wasn't. He wasn't supposed to let it get that far. He wasn't supposed to help an incredibly valuable hostage get away from her place of holding. He wasn't supposed to be upset about having to kill her.
Of course, I didn't like seeing my brother upset. But I'd much rather see him upset than dead.
--Mary-Lynn POV--
I hadn't been able to shake the feeling, as I stared into the woods behind (Name)'s house, that something was staring back.
It had been a few hours since I had made my way home, yet the feeling still ate at me in the worst way. If I was truly honest with myself, I didn't even really remember getting back into my car and actually driving home. My mind had let my body go on autopilot as I swallowed the fact that she was really gone. She wasn't dead, but she wasn't here, either. Nobody knew where she was.
I sat in my car, my body trembling as the dam behind my eyes finally broke. And as the dam broke, so did my patience. I didn't feel like waiting anymore. I didn't feel like playing sit-and-wait for my best-fucking-friend to just appear again. I didn't feel like sitting with crippling anxiety welling up in my chest. I didn't feel like seeing her name on the news like I had seen Henry's. But most of all? I didn't feel like trusting the police. They thought I couldn't hear them, but I did. The investigators whispering into their dispatch machines about how there were signs of a struggle, and that a badge belonging to 'Officer Neil' had been found in a mix of blood and hair. Hair, being (your hair color), that had obviously belonged to (Name). Something just wasn't sitting right, and as (Name) had always told me to do, I trusted my intuition. When I was sure that there was nobody in the house, I would return to do my own investigation. I would find my best friend.
I stormed into my house, making a beeline for the thing I never thought I'd be reaching for; the shotgun I kept hidden in my bedroom closet. I had bought it when I had moved from Wisconsin to (your City/Town Name) just to be safe, as I hadn't known anybody here yet. Now, I found myself glad I had swallowed the fear of owning a firearm and just bought it. I grabbed it, along with a box of ammunition, and stuffed it in the back seat of my car. If I had to be prepared for the worst, I sure as hell would be.
(Name) wasn't given the title of my best-friend for no reason. She had been my anchor when I was a swaying ship, drifting from the dock. She had been my stability when I though I was surely going to fall over. She had been the only person to ever understand me, and had been the only person I was ever able to come out to. She had supported me when I had decided to transition, and had instantly respected the changing of my name when I finally had decided to do it all those years back. She was way more than a best-friend to me, and I'd be damned if anybody was going to take that from me.
I quickly locked up the car and hurried back into my house, sparing a quick glance to the photo, dusty and frame all smashed, sitting tucked away at the top of my fridge.
It was of my father and I when I was Markus, and when he had actually loved me.
In that moment, I found myself grateful for his disapproval. If he hadn't pushed me from my childhood home all the way back in Wisconsin, I would have never made the move. I would have never met (Name).
I smiled to myself a bit before gingerly wiping at the few tears that had still remained.
"I'm gonna find you, (Name), I fucking promise, I'm gonna find you,"
--Jeff POV--
"I'm gonna find you (Name)! I fucking promise, I'm gonna find you!"
I swung my fist into the mirror I had been standing in front of, completely shattering it, a sudden wave of anger crashing my mood. She had fucking maced me. Maced me.
She knew it would have fucking hurt me, yet she did it anyway.
If she wanted to play the 'I-hurt-you-and-run-away' game, I'd be a happy participant. It had gone too fucking far. Was she rejecting me as her soulmate? Was she fighting against the truth? Was she being a complete fucking idiot trying to outrun me? I didn't know all of the answers, but I certainly knew one; if she was anything, she was definitely a fucking idiot.
She had no idea who she was playing fucking tag with, but she'd know soon enough. I had to end it. If she wasn't going to be mine, then she'd no longer even belong to the Earth itself.
Of course, if I was going to target her, I'd have to target her little fucking boyfriend as well. Toby had blown right past me as I was writhing in agony to rush to the aid of (Name). Even just her fucking name made my blood boil in my very fucking veins. To think I once believed we were created by a higher power to be together? What a fucking trip. She wasn't special. She wasn't fucking anything.
My anger quickly blossomed into pure, unbridled rage. I needed to fucking kill something. Somebody. And I had my targets set.
I hastily grabbed the knife I had just used to celebrate with, and shoved it into the pocket of my sweatshirt before storming my way out into the hall, slamming my bedroom door hard enough to splinter the wood at the hinges.
And though it was quick, I was certain I had seen movement from just down the hall a bit. Far enough down the hall to be the second to last door furthest from the staircase. To be more specific, Toby's bedroom door.
He was here.
I hissed under my breath, stalking my way to his bedroom door. I took a few calculated steps back before wailing his door with an earsplittingly loud crack, my foot making solid contact with it.
"Come on out, Toby fucking Rogers, I need to have a Goddamn fucking word with you,"
As I swung my leg back to land another kick, hoping to break the fucking hunk of wood right from its hinges, the door opened. I didn't stop, however.
My leg was aimed perfectly at his chest, but before I could land it and send him flying, he grabbed my ankle and rammed my leg back into myself. With the momentum I had already accumulated from the lethal kick and the force in which he had pushed it back at me with, it made contact with my own chest with a sickening crunch.
I was weightless for a moment before my upper back and head slammed against the solid oak railing of the staircase; he had flung me across the entire hallway, which was about twenty feet.
"I've had enough of these g-g-FUCK!-games, Jeff,"
He sauntered over to me slowly, like a predator creeping his way over to his wounded prey. His body twitched, his limbs bending at odd angles for just a split second before returning to normal. His neck cracked as his head was flung from left to right from his tics, his eyes trained on my own.
"Then stop playing them. You knew from the start that she was mine,"
He laughed, the terrifying sound echoing throughout the empty hallway and bellowing into the downstairs area, battering at my eardrums.
He had definitely grown into himself since becoming a lower-level proxy, I had to give him that. If it was the serious head injury I had sustained, or some strange sort of brotherly connection from having worked with him for so long, I wasn't sure, but for some reason, I felt proud of him. He had started out a shy little prick, and had ended up a decently confident little prick. But this older, more experienced little prick differed greatly from the shy teenager that once worked beside me; he was lethal now. He wasn't one to show mercy, he wasn't one for conversation, and he wasn't one for playing games. And I had known that. I should have kept my mouth shut that day I found him lurking outside the Conversation Room. I should have minded my own damn fucking business.
As strong as I was, I wasn't really a match for Toby. My anger would often make me feel like I could take on a fucking God, but in reality, I wasn't really used to combat with someone who was skilled. All of my targets had been helpless, terrified, everyday people. They had been equipped with guns, or knives, but had never been properly trained to use them.
Toby had been expertly trained to use his dual weapons, and had become a deadly force to be reckoned with when it came to hand-to-hand combat.
He couldn't feel pain. Even when you thought you had put enough force into your punch to knock out a fucking boar, it just didn't do anything to him. Not many things truly scared me, but Toby?
He may have very well been more fucked up than even me. My crimes back in the day regarding my family were maybe a little gory in retrospect, but what Toby had done? He had been fucking ruthless.
You'd never be able to tell by looking at him. He looked to be about one of the most goofy-looking motherfucker's you'd ever seen in your entire life. But when it came down to it, Toby wouldn't just murder; he'd clean fucking house.
" You hear that? That music,"
He looked around himself, his hand coming up to comb through his hair as his eyes widened more by the second. His other hand hung limply by his side, a single hatchet lightly in his grasp as his body swayed from side to side gently.
"You really don't f-f-f-fucking -WOO!- hear that? Really? It's getting so loud now,"
I looked up to the ceiling, knowing what it all meant.
She wasn't my soulmate, no. She wasn't even mine. She was a girl, brought to show me a little taste of humanity before I died. She had come into my life to show me what life could have been if I hadn't of turned out this way; I could have settled down with someone as sweet and gentle as her. I could have been a normal kid. If I had just taken the fucking time to let my awkward teenage self grow into the burn scars, had I of just learned to fucking cope with what happened to me and had gone to therapy and had taken it seriously, I could have been so much different.
A smile even wider than my hand-crafted one etched itself onto my features.
I could have been different, but I wasn't. I was Jeff the fucking Killer.
"Fuck you, Tobias Erin Rogers. And fuck that dead bitch of a sister you have, too,"
I laughed to myself, staring at the ceiling again. I came into this shit as an asshole, and I'd die a fucking asshole.
I didn't see it, but I heard it.
He had thrown the hatchet.
--OKAY SO Lot to unpack here.
Hoodie's POV is in the beginning where he shares a little bit about how he feels and how they got to where they are, and explains why he has come to the conclusion that it's time for it to stop before it gets too crazy. Tim is visibly upset by it, but ultimately, he agrees with his partner as he knows that he will face a much worse fate if they don't put a stop to it.
In the second half, we have a pretty rare POV Belonging to Mary-Lynn. She states that she's fed-up with police and their sneaky ways and that she didn't like all the whispering that the officers were doing, so she has decided to take matters into her own hands. She also reminisces about how (Name) had been there for her when nobody else had, and a bit about her backstory was released here as well.
In the final half, we have Jeff. He finds himself in another manic episode, this one being rage-filled, and decides he's going to chase down (Name), but gets heavily distracted when he sees Toby's door closing from the hallway. He instead decides he's going to pick a fight with Toby in his rage-fueled state, but quickly realizes that he is no match for Toby simply due to the extent of training Toby has had because he is a proxy.
Toby and Jeff exchange some words, and Toby starts hearing inaudible music, which happens to him when he starts to lose control.
Jeff knows this fact, and decides last minute what (Name)'s true purpose to him was, and seals his fate by letting Toby know what he really thought of him. Toby throws the axe he had in his hand, and as you already know, Jeff is dead.
This is a super long chapter, I really wanted to get out some more of the other POV's before going back to (Name) and Jack's, as these other characters really tie the story together too. I'm not gonna lie, i was a little upset about Jeff's death, but it had to happen at some point. Two maniacs wanting the same girl just has no way of ending well
And as always, if you're going to Meatball, do it Extravagantly.--