(no subject)
Author: veiledndarkness
Title: Bobby's Method
Word Count: 1344
Rating: R for violence and swearing.
Summary: The gas thing, once again.
Warnings: Usual disclaimer. Still not mine.
AU, in that Evelyn doesn't die. The story explains it, though I've altered the ages. The proper ages still stand (31 and 19) but this takes place a bit earlier. Jack is 16, so Bobby is 28.
x-posted
*
The flame stings, he hisses, an indrawn breath as the flame slides over his finger. He flicks the tip again, the flame catching the air, warm and alive in his palm.
Bobby looks over at Jack, a feral grin on his face. "You ready?" he asks, not caring really if he's not.
Jack nods hesitantly. Last time was the most difficult, last time; the screams had haunted him afterwards. He picks up the gas can, holding it tightly in his hand, a practiced grim smile on his face. He follows Bobby obediently into the building.
It's old habit for him, one that he pretends to enjoy, if only to keep Bobby from suspecting that he hates this, hates every minute of it. He walks behind Bobby, keeping an eye out for anyone who might interrupt them, or worse, try to stop them.
Bobby calls it the gas thing. Jack flinches slightly as he hears the loud scraping sound from the lighter; the hair on the back of his neck stands up every time he hears that.
Luck is on their side tonight. Their target is alone, several friends passed out around him in drug induced stupors. The man opens his eyes blurrily, a faint smile for the newcomers. "Whatcha need?" he slurs, opening his arms, gesturing to the baggies, assorted drugs piled around him.
Bobby pushes the man down to the ground, his heavy boots coming down hard. "Shut up!" he snarls, his eyes dark with fury. The man struggles weakly against Bobby's foot, squirming under him.
The man, no boy, Jack thinks vacantly, he's nowhere near as old as he seems, blinks stupidly, as Bobby reaches for his gun. He pulls it seemingly out of nowhere and presses it to the man's chin, cooing softly to him.
"Man, I ain't done nothin'," the man-boy yells defiantly. Bobby shakes his head. "Oh you done somethin'," he murmurs.
"You see him?" Bobby asks, pointing to Jack with his free hand. The man nods, recognition in his eyes. "You know him?"
Jack holds his breath, praying uselessly that the man will have some intelligence. Bobby presses harder with the gun, flicking the safety off. The man shivers, his eyes wide now.
"Yeah, yeah I know 'em," he says. Jack's shoulders slump in defeat.
"I see you're familiar with your clientele," Bobby sneers at him. "This, in case you weren't aware is my baby brother, Jack."
"So?" the man says, sweat beading on his forehead. He glances around the room, his hopes fading at the continued drugged slumber of his friends.
"Word got back to me that you're supplyin' him. That shit stops tonight," Bobby says very slowly, pushing the gun harder against his chin, wiggling it back and forth as he speaks.
Jack looks away, guilt rising on his cheeks. Bobby's always been very vocal on Jack using drugs, something he is unwilling to ignore, and something he refuses to let Jack do, regardless of whether or not he's home to enforce that.
Bobby always knows, no matter how secretive and clever Jack thinks he's been. He's convinced that Bobby has spies following him, which he must, because how else does he always know when Jack has turned back to drugs to escape?
The man sweats more, beads rolling down his skin now, a greasy sweat. "Sure man," he says, nervous now. "You got it, no more for him."
Bobby rolls his eyes, smirking evilly. "It ain't that easy," he purrs lowly, jerking his head at Jack. "Y'see, I know you gotta make a livin' and shit, I respect that. But sellin' to young kids? I draw the line asshole. Jackie here is only 16, and I know for a fuckin' fact that you sell to anyone who asks. You wanna pump your veins with shit, go right ahead, but you ain't sellin' to young kids, not while I breathe."
The man shakes slightly, completely unnerved by Bobby's calm rage. "B-but..." he starts to say, his eyes darting back and forth between Bobby and the gun that's rammed into his throat."C'mon man, be fuckin' real. None to your kid brother, I got that," he pleads.
Jack bites his lip, lifting the can higher. Bobby nods at Jack, his eyes commanding him. Jack hesitates only a second, before blinking and tilting the gas can, the nearly clear fluid splashing out and dousing the man. He cries out, the gas burning his unprotected eyes.
Bobby gives him a moment for reality to sink in before leaning in closer, his teeth bared in a nasty grin. "Wrong answer shithead," he whispers. "Now you're gonna burn."
He flicks his lighter again, watching the flame move against his hands, hissing again. He looks down at the man, grinning. "Some people, they just never learn," he mock sighs.
"Back up Jackie," Bobby says suddenly, his voice a rough command. Jack obediently takes two steps back, guilt roaring through him. He knows the next part all too well.
The man pleads and begs pitifully, squirming and gasping as the bitter taste of gas trickles into his mouth. Bobby stands up, removing his gun from the man's throat.
Silently, he flicks his lighter again, bringing the open flame down and letting it lick at the edges of the man's shirt, the flames catching and traveling fast up his clothing. The man screams in pure terror as Bobby pulls out a pack of matches and strikes one, setting the pack aflame. He moves away from the fire that is spreading fast and tosses the lit pack on the man's face, his eyes glowing in the firelight.
Jack gags weakly, the man's screams waking his friends. Bobby pulls Jack from the room, the fire spreading too fast for any of them, more screams filling the night. Jack stumbles as Bobby drags him out of the building, pushing him into his waiting car.
Jack clutches his head, breathing raggedly. Bobby drives away from the building, humming under his breath, exhilarated. Jack stares at Bobby, his head tilted.
"Why?" he asks, his voice rough. Bobby glances at him, his dark eyes saying so much.
"You know why," he says after a long moment. "Some people, they never fuckin' learn."
Jack nods. His eyes sting with tears. "I hate it," he admits softly, barely above a whisper.
Bobby snorts. "Yeah? How 'bout we didn't burn him? Just let 'em go, right?" he says.
Jack stays silent. "And then maybe he sells to someone who's pregnant, right? Or maybe to some kid, who ends up on the streets, addicted and sellin' himself?" Bobby says quietly, his voice low but furious. Jack flinches, the words hitting hard.
"Jackie, guys like him, they don't give a shit. It's all money to them, lives mean nothin'," he adds. "Because of guys like him, you were born addicted," Bobby snarls, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Jack sobs softly into his hands, guilt and shame eating at him. "You ain't gonna end up in some fuckin' gutter Jackie," Bobby vows. "I won't let you destroy yourself."
Jack wipes at his eyes with shaking hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. Bobby looks over at him, ruffling his messy hair. "C'mere," he says. Jack moves into his embrace, resting against Bobby's chest as he drives, sirens blaring in the distance.
After long moments of silence, Bobby clears his throat. "I got a new job lined up," he says, "I already talked to Ma. You're comin' with me."
Jack feels his heart jump into his throat. "Why?" he whispers.
"Ma thinks you need a change of scenery," he says, a touch of sarcasm in his words. "She wants you away from this city, away from the drugs. We're going to Chicago. Ma swears it's better in the area I'm setting up in."
Jack nods hesitantly. Bobby strokes his hair again, his fingers rubbing Jack's scalp. "I won't let you do this shit to yourself sweetheart," he murmurs. Jack nods again, soothed by Bobby's rough fingers. They drive in silence, the sirens fading away in the night.
*
2
Title: Bobby's Method
Word Count: 1344
Rating: R for violence and swearing.
Summary: The gas thing, once again.
Warnings: Usual disclaimer. Still not mine.
AU, in that Evelyn doesn't die. The story explains it, though I've altered the ages. The proper ages still stand (31 and 19) but this takes place a bit earlier. Jack is 16, so Bobby is 28.
x-posted
*
The flame stings, he hisses, an indrawn breath as the flame slides over his finger. He flicks the tip again, the flame catching the air, warm and alive in his palm.
Bobby looks over at Jack, a feral grin on his face. "You ready?" he asks, not caring really if he's not.
Jack nods hesitantly. Last time was the most difficult, last time; the screams had haunted him afterwards. He picks up the gas can, holding it tightly in his hand, a practiced grim smile on his face. He follows Bobby obediently into the building.
It's old habit for him, one that he pretends to enjoy, if only to keep Bobby from suspecting that he hates this, hates every minute of it. He walks behind Bobby, keeping an eye out for anyone who might interrupt them, or worse, try to stop them.
Bobby calls it the gas thing. Jack flinches slightly as he hears the loud scraping sound from the lighter; the hair on the back of his neck stands up every time he hears that.
Luck is on their side tonight. Their target is alone, several friends passed out around him in drug induced stupors. The man opens his eyes blurrily, a faint smile for the newcomers. "Whatcha need?" he slurs, opening his arms, gesturing to the baggies, assorted drugs piled around him.
Bobby pushes the man down to the ground, his heavy boots coming down hard. "Shut up!" he snarls, his eyes dark with fury. The man struggles weakly against Bobby's foot, squirming under him.
The man, no boy, Jack thinks vacantly, he's nowhere near as old as he seems, blinks stupidly, as Bobby reaches for his gun. He pulls it seemingly out of nowhere and presses it to the man's chin, cooing softly to him.
"Man, I ain't done nothin'," the man-boy yells defiantly. Bobby shakes his head. "Oh you done somethin'," he murmurs.
"You see him?" Bobby asks, pointing to Jack with his free hand. The man nods, recognition in his eyes. "You know him?"
Jack holds his breath, praying uselessly that the man will have some intelligence. Bobby presses harder with the gun, flicking the safety off. The man shivers, his eyes wide now.
"Yeah, yeah I know 'em," he says. Jack's shoulders slump in defeat.
"I see you're familiar with your clientele," Bobby sneers at him. "This, in case you weren't aware is my baby brother, Jack."
"So?" the man says, sweat beading on his forehead. He glances around the room, his hopes fading at the continued drugged slumber of his friends.
"Word got back to me that you're supplyin' him. That shit stops tonight," Bobby says very slowly, pushing the gun harder against his chin, wiggling it back and forth as he speaks.
Jack looks away, guilt rising on his cheeks. Bobby's always been very vocal on Jack using drugs, something he is unwilling to ignore, and something he refuses to let Jack do, regardless of whether or not he's home to enforce that.
Bobby always knows, no matter how secretive and clever Jack thinks he's been. He's convinced that Bobby has spies following him, which he must, because how else does he always know when Jack has turned back to drugs to escape?
The man sweats more, beads rolling down his skin now, a greasy sweat. "Sure man," he says, nervous now. "You got it, no more for him."
Bobby rolls his eyes, smirking evilly. "It ain't that easy," he purrs lowly, jerking his head at Jack. "Y'see, I know you gotta make a livin' and shit, I respect that. But sellin' to young kids? I draw the line asshole. Jackie here is only 16, and I know for a fuckin' fact that you sell to anyone who asks. You wanna pump your veins with shit, go right ahead, but you ain't sellin' to young kids, not while I breathe."
The man shakes slightly, completely unnerved by Bobby's calm rage. "B-but..." he starts to say, his eyes darting back and forth between Bobby and the gun that's rammed into his throat."C'mon man, be fuckin' real. None to your kid brother, I got that," he pleads.
Jack bites his lip, lifting the can higher. Bobby nods at Jack, his eyes commanding him. Jack hesitates only a second, before blinking and tilting the gas can, the nearly clear fluid splashing out and dousing the man. He cries out, the gas burning his unprotected eyes.
Bobby gives him a moment for reality to sink in before leaning in closer, his teeth bared in a nasty grin. "Wrong answer shithead," he whispers. "Now you're gonna burn."
He flicks his lighter again, watching the flame move against his hands, hissing again. He looks down at the man, grinning. "Some people, they just never learn," he mock sighs.
"Back up Jackie," Bobby says suddenly, his voice a rough command. Jack obediently takes two steps back, guilt roaring through him. He knows the next part all too well.
The man pleads and begs pitifully, squirming and gasping as the bitter taste of gas trickles into his mouth. Bobby stands up, removing his gun from the man's throat.
Silently, he flicks his lighter again, bringing the open flame down and letting it lick at the edges of the man's shirt, the flames catching and traveling fast up his clothing. The man screams in pure terror as Bobby pulls out a pack of matches and strikes one, setting the pack aflame. He moves away from the fire that is spreading fast and tosses the lit pack on the man's face, his eyes glowing in the firelight.
Jack gags weakly, the man's screams waking his friends. Bobby pulls Jack from the room, the fire spreading too fast for any of them, more screams filling the night. Jack stumbles as Bobby drags him out of the building, pushing him into his waiting car.
Jack clutches his head, breathing raggedly. Bobby drives away from the building, humming under his breath, exhilarated. Jack stares at Bobby, his head tilted.
"Why?" he asks, his voice rough. Bobby glances at him, his dark eyes saying so much.
"You know why," he says after a long moment. "Some people, they never fuckin' learn."
Jack nods. His eyes sting with tears. "I hate it," he admits softly, barely above a whisper.
Bobby snorts. "Yeah? How 'bout we didn't burn him? Just let 'em go, right?" he says.
Jack stays silent. "And then maybe he sells to someone who's pregnant, right? Or maybe to some kid, who ends up on the streets, addicted and sellin' himself?" Bobby says quietly, his voice low but furious. Jack flinches, the words hitting hard.
"Jackie, guys like him, they don't give a shit. It's all money to them, lives mean nothin'," he adds. "Because of guys like him, you were born addicted," Bobby snarls, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Jack sobs softly into his hands, guilt and shame eating at him. "You ain't gonna end up in some fuckin' gutter Jackie," Bobby vows. "I won't let you destroy yourself."
Jack wipes at his eyes with shaking hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. Bobby looks over at him, ruffling his messy hair. "C'mere," he says. Jack moves into his embrace, resting against Bobby's chest as he drives, sirens blaring in the distance.
After long moments of silence, Bobby clears his throat. "I got a new job lined up," he says, "I already talked to Ma. You're comin' with me."
Jack feels his heart jump into his throat. "Why?" he whispers.
"Ma thinks you need a change of scenery," he says, a touch of sarcasm in his words. "She wants you away from this city, away from the drugs. We're going to Chicago. Ma swears it's better in the area I'm setting up in."
Jack nods hesitantly. Bobby strokes his hair again, his fingers rubbing Jack's scalp. "I won't let you do this shit to yourself sweetheart," he murmurs. Jack nods again, soothed by Bobby's rough fingers. They drive in silence, the sirens fading away in the night.
*
2