—— This short story is not part of my canon just yet. But it might be. Anyways, enjoy!~ ☆
⚠️ ‼️ ✖︎ IN CASE YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THE TITLE MEANS, TRIGGER WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND BLOOD ✖︎‼️ ⚠️
♪
Special-effects smoke sprays onto the platform.
Light flash on.
Glitch runs onto the stage, smirking that fanged, vampish smirk that the fans always go crazy for.
“Good afternoon, LA!”He greets, his voice amplified by the microphone and ringing through the venue. The audience screams out cheers, throwing their hands in the air. Girls close to the stage are shrieking and squealing, swooning over that perfect blonde hair and those perfect, sharp yellow eyes, and that muscular body, hugged by a varsity jacket and ripped jeans. Big, black bat-like wings that spread to create a magnificent silhouette. As Glitch sings and dances, the band playing behind him, his mind flickers back to how he ended up here in the first place. How he’d be totally screwed if anyone ever discovered his fame’s origins.
♪
Glitch stands over the dead and bloody corpse of Aaron Smith, famous song maker known as HIJACK. He only made beats and tunes, his voice and face remaining anonymous. He planned to do a reveal at his upcoming concert. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be his face making an appearance. Glitch would be taking his place. He’d already hacked the man’s accounts. That was phase one. Phase two, track down the real HIJACK. And step three? __ __ Kill HIJACK and replace him in his life without anyone ever realizing. __ Now the job was done. Glitch’s mouth curves into a mad, sadistic grin. _ __ ** **“Sleep tight, HIJACK~”_
“Plague…” D starts, but can’t manage to force the rest of his sentence out. His hand is gripping Plague’s sleeved wrist, his black and red eyes glinting with a kind of desperation. Plague is staring at him with their ever-blank gaze, head tilted in confusion.
“What is it?” They ask, stepping closer to D and cupping his face. D’s breath hitches, and it physically hurts to know that Plague doesn’t have a clue how intimate the gesture is. He had tried multiple times by now. But on each occasion, he got the same response. He remembers his first attempt from a few months ago vividly. It had felt like a knife straight to the heart.
“Love…?” Plague repeats, their eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly in the vaguest show of bewilderment on their otherwise emotionless face. D stares at Plague for a long, long minute. __ “….You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything.” __ Plague hums, wondering why D’s backpedaling but not caring enough to question it. “Okay.” __ __ “….Can I do something?” D’s voice is quiet and strained. Plague is oblivious. They nod silently. In a flash, D wraps an arm around their waist and pulls them into a kiss. Plague makes a noise of surprise at the unfamiliar, strange action, but they don’t pull away until D does. They gaze up at him expressionlessly.
“What was that?” They ask innocently, and D almost wants to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, he rolls his eyes in his usual sarcastic way.
Don’t worry about it, lab rat.” He says, and Plague gives him the same look that they did the first time. The one that’s monumentally unaware of everything, thanks to over a decade of not knowing anything except abusive experiments.
Plague shrugs, leaning against D’s chest. The taller boy legs go of their wrist so he can rest his hand on their shoulder blade, leaning against the outer school wall and watching the downpour from underneath the sanctuary of the stone canopy, the only sounds being the hissing rain and buzz of the group of students several yards away, chattering and interacting. D doesn’t even have to look to tell Plague is watching them. He knew the experiment had no comprehension of socializing and making friends.
_It’s fine. _He tells himself firmly. Maybe one day they’ll get it. And if they don’t…. __ Well, I can be happy like this. __ I hope….
His name is unknown. His face? Also unknown. All anyone knows is that he rules the criminal underworld from thr lower-ranks. He goes by the alias Ruby.
Ruby rests his cheek against his palm, his smirk obvious despite being obscured by a black face mask. He chuckles in response to the exclaimed question, scarlet eyes glinting. “Well, it took a lot of pulling strings and deals under the table, but I managed.” He replies casually. “Now, the money you promised?” The hooded figure, whom Ruby knew’s name was Kai, seems nervous now. He didn’t think Ruby would get the job done. We was convinced that this was the perfect way to take out a threat. And now he was stuck.
He doesn’t even get a word out before Ruby draws his Uzi and puts a bullet directly through the other man’s skull. He drops dead, his limp body hitting the cold floor with a dull “thump”, blood starting to ooze from the hole in his head. Hardly anyone spares a glance. Those who do only look over so they can laugh and spit on Kai’s face, now forever frozen in a look of terror. They’re in an underground criminal lounge; abrupt homicide is common. If anything, murder was encouraged. It was like the equivalent to a party, except thug edition.
Ruby stands up and fishes Kai’s wallet from his bloodied cloak, using a few of the bills in there to pay for the tab. He pockets the rest of the cash and the credit card, sauntering out of the place with a salute to the bouncer, who just grunts. Ruby laughs. “Is that how you treat a regular~?” He asks coyly, tipping the burly man’s face to look him in the eye. The bouncer scoffs. “Fuck off, Ruby.” The enigma in question just hums pleasantly, entirely unbothered, letting go of the bouncer’s chin and walking off, the sound of his combat boots clacking against the floor fading until it’s gone altogether.
