MS - Rav's newest story

[Ravynlee]

I was just waiting for David to be introduced, keep more coming woman.

xxx

Introduced? Where the hell have you been? He's been in this since practically the beginning, go back and see for yourself...

 

Thanks guys. Stoked you're all still involved in this. Hopefully I can keep it flowing now. Won't be updated as regularly as you might all like, in being am working full time now, but I'll write where I can.

Huge thanks again.

Working on more as we speak.

 

[woodyloveslinkin]

See, this is why you should update more I start forgetting (its an old age thing/bourdon thing).

[Ravynlee]

See, this is why you should update more I start forgetting (its an old age thing/bourdon thing).

 

David in a Bourdon (STORY!) thing? :lol: Don't I just wish!

 

Actually, I started reading your DS update too and my mind kept flashing back to LPFs... am so confused right now...

[woodyloveslinkin]

No as in me =bourdon-forgetfulness-trait-making-words-up trait.

[Ravynlee]

No as in me =bourdon-forgetfulness-trait-making-words-up trait.

Ah yes you get that from me most probably. Look I wont lie I miss us (family) as much as the rest of you (well okay, maybe it's just me) but the more I think about it, it's sort of had it's day. I mean Mel and Foxx are off doing their own thing, and Vi my sweet is busy too. Granted, Jojo is no longer my offspring but now a fully-fledged adult having relations with my so-called literary 'ex' (which would make things tense for story purposes) and I'm now far more into Dave than Big Bourdie up there on sig, so really, too much has changed for it to be what it was. And a spin off would only be a diluted version, like diet coke of sorts, sure it has it's moments but you can't match the original and no matter what I wrote it would always be 'weaker' by comparrison.

Plus, lets face it, it's far too easy

 

MS is a challenge. Let's see if I can end it in a way that does the rollercoster ride so far some justice.

[woodyloveslinkin]

I'm looking forward to this rollercoster ride.

[Ravynlee]

I'm looking forward to this rollercoster ride.

.... I usually throw up at the end of a rollercoaster ride... :lol:

[woodyloveslinkin]

Let's see if you manage to make yourself physically sick at the end of this story, if that be the case.

[Friðbjörn]

Ah yes you get that from me most probably. Look I wont lie I miss us (family) as much as the rest of you (well okay, maybe it's just me) but the more I think about it, it's sort of had it's day. I mean Mel and Foxx are off doing their own thing, and Vi my sweet is busy too. Granted, Jojo is no longer my offspring but now a fully-fledged adult having relations with my so-called literary 'ex' (which would make things tense for story purposes) and I'm now far more into Dave than Big Bourdie up there on sig, so really, too much has changed for it to be what it was. And a spin off would only be a diluted version, like diet coke of sorts, sure it has it's moments but you can't match the original and no matter what I wrote it would always be 'weaker' by comparrison.

Plus, lets face it, it's far too easy

 

MS is a challenge. Let's see if I can end it in a way that does the rollercoster ride so far some justice.

oh Im not busy at all for the next month and a half but after that yeah...

I just dont come on here much since theres not much to read

[Ravynlee]

Am working in it, Vi. Hopefully I get this done in time and to your satisfaction. Thanks for stopping back in here just to catch up. Means a lot, really. And thanks naturally to the rest of you. Glad at least someone else out there is enjoying the hellish ride created by my morbid imagination.

Here's more for the day. Oh and hope it makes sense (and by that I mean ties in to the 500+ other pages before this. I have to admit am too lazy to read back to the beginning so if someone else remembers something that seems remiss dont hesitate to pull me up so I can correct it. Or argue my way around it, either way's good with me)

 

Try where you can to enjoy. As usual language, profanity and the usual ahead. You well know what to expect by now

 

*

 

Joanna was in a panic.

“What do you mean? No, I can’t. I won’t!”

Joel looked into her face, into her eyes, gravely. His fingers that were locked around her shoulders tightened. His head bowed with a sigh.

“If he is alive Joel I want to see him, I have to! Please don’t make me-”

“Joanna!” Joel barked.

He shook her. Joanna froze. Whether it was the alcohol in her system or the hysteria of the moment Joanna stood numb and tense in her fiancé’s grip. A cold shudder worked its way up her spine. Tears pricked her eyes but they were narrowed with a familiar rage too as she saw, just for a split second in time, Rob’s face from the past taking the place of Joel’s. She grimaced and a small sound escaped her lips. Relinquishing hold Joel apologised but his eyes remained stern. Joel shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. At first nothing came out.

“I know you love him,” he said, his eyes averted and his lopsided smile quick, reflexive and uncertain, “but you have to trust me. You have to go-”

“But if it is him-” Joanna began to protest.

“He could be dangerous!” Joel intercepted, “For god’s sake Jo, he’s already been accused of corruption, he faked his death, and god knows what else he’s capable of. Just trust me okay, please, for Haily’s sake, go home, you’ll be safer there. I promise if it is him I’ll… do what I can to help,” he said. He rubbed at his brow with his fingers glowing white. “It’s just… a bad time to be out on the streets right now. And if this rumour about him and Bennington’s daughter is true-”

“No!” Joanna declared, struggling in his arms as if physically deflecting an insult, “No! Rob wouldn’t do that! I know him!”

“You don’t know him at all! Jesus, Jo, you heard it. He was seen running from her mother’s apartment, and her body’s already been found. It’s not a rumour, a kid’s dead and he was the last one seen with her. If the witness is right he’s at the scene of the crime right now. God knows what he’s likely to do next. He’s not your husband anymore, okay? I’m sorry if that hurts but you have to know. I’m sorry,” Joel said. He appeared to be begging it.

Joanna pouted as she shook her head. Her eyes shimmered. She tried to speak but the words just weren’t forthcoming. She felt Joel’s arms wrap around her, crushing her against him, but she couldn’t react. Her head was spinning and not because of the alcohol still coursing through her system. Memories haunted her. She felt like an outsider now looking in on some of the happiest moments of her former life. She didn’t just see them but she felt them, relived them, hearing Rob’s familiar low baritone as he laughed along with her in front of the TV, felt his arms around her as he carried her across the threshold and lay entangled with him on the bed sheets, she could smell his scent, feel the warmth emanate from his chest as she listened to him breathe, hear the guttural groan against her ear as they made passionate love, and see the truth in his eyes as he whispered that he loved her…

As Joel pulled away Joanna shook her head again. It took all her remaining strength to summon her eyes up to face him. Time was of the essence. Around them the club was virtually empty of people. Goren’s arrival had stolen the life from what had been a joyous engagement party and had taken most of those in attendance with him. Now left in the wake surrounded by half empty glasses, by tattered decorations, and by a gloomy silence that festered in the post midnight shadows, Joanna stared back at the man she had thought she was going to marry with her heart being ruthlessly torn in two. She tried to smile but the gesture was weak and forced at best. The night felt so surreal she was at a loss to even know what to say let alone where to start. Words were futile now anyway in the wake of recent developments. If Rob really was alive she had to see him just one last time just if it was to say goodbye – she didn’t want to be robbed of that chance once again – but Joel was looking down over her with his youthful face set and determined.

Behind them there was movement at the door. A tattooed arm snaked in and gestured in urgency. Framed by the doorway with the backdrop of early morn at his back Benji looked in at the couple with his expression, around the dark glasses that he still wore, equally hesitant. He cleared his throat and apologized.

“Guys, I’m sorry. Bro, we have to go. Come on man.”

Joel nodded at his twin before he turned back to Joanna. That moment lasted forever as he cupped her face and smiled ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything and neither did she. Joanna was mute feeling him pull her towards the door, dragging her into a future where she didn’t know what was waiting for her. She wanted to go back in time, she wanted all of this madness to end, but yet she was at the mercy of it all, feeling like she was drowning and there was nothing at all she could do to save herself or anyone around her that she loved.

He led her to a nearby patrol car and ushered her into it, clinging to her hand with assurances that everything would be okay and she had nothing to worry about when the look on his face attested otherwise. To a woman who had been down this path before in some respects, having been married to a cop who dedicated himself so completely to his job, she knew what his words weren’t saying and what his tight jaw, his forced smile and stern eyes weren’t telling her. Panic swelled in her chest as he withdrew his hand and closed the car’s door, effectively separating them. Joanna could only stare back mutely, her throat being choked by all the words she wanted to say, all the words she felt she needed to say, and all the words she wished she had said to Rob before he had left so long ago, terrified in some instinctual way that this would be the last time she would ever lay eyes on him again.

Clinging to the door she implored Joel with her eyes. Come with me, her eyes screamed at him, but as tears silently slid down her cheeks Joel pressed his fingers to his lips and touched the glass and tapped the vehicle’s roof to speed it on its way.

Behind her a sea of red and blue lights was flashing, casting the city street in surreal and dizzying colour. Joanna craned around in her seat until she couldn’t see Joel or his brother or the last lingering few of his colleagues bidding their loved ones goodbye before they headed to the station to gear up and in some respects like soldiers going off to war.

“You alright, miss?” the uniformed officer asked.

Joanna sunk back into her seat, smearing her eyes with the back of her hand. The stone that glimmered from her finger lightly grazed her flesh. With a sullen pout she looked down at it, ignoring the intrusive gaze the man was giving her via the rear view mirror. Her lips twitched, caught somewhere between a stifled sob and pained smile. She shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she confessed.

Propping her cheek on her fist she stared out the window, beyond her dismal reflection at the city sweeping by beyond the cool glass. Joanna’s shoulders fell with a sigh.

“I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”

The officer grunted in acknowledgement. The vehicle lazily rocked as it turned a corner and merged with idling traffic.

“Hey, don’t I know you? You look familiar.”

“I’m sorry, were you at the… party?”

“Party? For what?”

Joanna frowned and blinked up. Her stomach immediately tensed. She looked back at the slice of face she was afforded via the mirror but couldn’t recognise the details she was shown. Joanna smiled and shook her head. Though she didn’t mean the gesture at all her insides were suddenly scrambling around in a familiar panic.

[Ravynlee]

“Yeah, you’re his wife, right?” he asked, his smile growing. He raised his face a fraction to flash his toothy grin. “Yeah, I thought I’d seen you somewhere before. On the news, huh? You’re old man was the one who took a swan dive up state. That dirty cop, right?”

Joanna shook her head and swallowed down a pasty lump suddenly choking the back of her throat.

“No, no. I’m with… Joel now. Joel Madden. He works with the Narcotics Enforcement-”

“No, not him, another guy. Tall guy. Goofy looking. What was his name again? Ray? Ron?”

“Rob. And he wasn’t… dirty,” she defended.

Her eyes swung towards the lock on the door. Beyond the glass traffic lurched a few metres in a traffic jam. Joanna’s chest ballooned and sunk again in a heartbeat.

“Listen, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well sure you do,” the officer said, “It’s all over the radio.”

He tapped the scanner mounted to his dashboard before turning in his seat to face her. Joanna stared, her brow narrowing in shock and suspicion. Though she struggled she didn’t recognise him, but the recognition in his face scared her.

“You’re Bourdon’s wife, aren’t you? The man who’s gone all Lazarus and shit. Back from the dead. Wow, now that’s some story to tell the little one when she gets older.”

Joanna continued to stare, feeling her breath escape sharply as if he’d struck her. Again she shook her head, but her mouth opened to speak. It hung open briefly and nothing came out.

“How- How do you- What do you want?”

“Shit, me, I don’t want nothing,” the officer declared, sweeping his eyes over his passenger with more diligence than was due.

His smile shifted. His eyes gleamed. Joanna was relieved as he turned around in his seat again, urging the vehicle on further as the traffic ahead began to move again. Again, she glimpsed at the lock on the door. A sudden impulsive thought crossed her mind. But then with a loud clack the lock sunk without her assistance, all four, sequentially. Joanna swung her frown towards the uniformed officer, towards the back of his head. Behind the protective enclosure he seemed to be none the wiser. That’s when she heard him laugh. Her skin pricked all over.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she ground out.

Her nerves were firing. From her earlier shock to now Joanna’s insides felt as if they had been thrown about on some cruel roller coaster ride. She was barely able to think let alone breathe. Again the officer laughed. His hand dipped down to increase the volume of the radio. The grating hiss of static began to echo throughout the cab.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shit, relax,” he said with his toothy grin. “I ain’t doing nothing. I’m just doing my job, lady.”

“You’re taking me home?” Joanna asked without really believing it.

Again the officer laughed. His eyes slid from the mirror to glimpse at her over his shoulder. Beyond it, quite by accident, Joanna caught sight of the ID badge pinned to the visor and felt her heart seize up in her chest. The photo of the man was white. The complexion of the man sitting before her was dark. And right on que he grinned at her.

“No,” he said, his tone dropping with familiar disregard. Pulling out a mobile phone he jabbed a button while his eyes continued to watch Joanna who was frozen with fear on the back seat. After a few moments a voice could be heard in response.

“Yeah, it’s me. Tell M I got her,” he said. He nodded. “Alright. I’m on my way.”

“M?” Joanna repeated. Her heart hammered. The tears in her eyes stung with renewed force. Surely not, surely he didn’t mean… “As in… Mike Shinoda?”

“No, as in white boy Marshall Mathers, shit!” the officer snapped, and smartly tucked away his phone.

“What does he… what are you… You’re not really a cop are you?” Joanna said.

Her voice betrayed her fear. She could barely even think straight let alone formulate a coherent sentence. As the car swept a corner it cleared traffic and fast picked up speed. Joanna noticed with a sinking sensation that they were heading in the opposite direction to the Hudson Bridge turn off. They were headed back into the heart of the city, back into the storm the Captain had said was coming, where Joel expressly didn’t want her to be.

“I have to see my daughter! Please! You have to take me-”

“Relax, she’s cool-”

“Where is she?” Joanna cried. Her palms slapped flat against the plexiglass that divided them. “Please!”

“Hey, relax!”

“Oh god,” Joanna gasped. She sunk backwards into her seat with her eyes wild and terrified. “Jos…” she wondered.

 

***

[Ravynlee]

Chester sat slumped against the wall. Inside away from the prying eyes of patrons he sat like a wounded man. For the longest time he couldn’t speak. He could scarcely breathe. His narrow shoulders would shudder, stop, and then for a few breaths shudder again. Beneath the backdrop of music emanating up from down below, the sound of his breaths were ragged and bestial. No one was game enough to intervene on his shock and his grief. The thought that this bloodied woman who had staggered in off the street was telling the truth about the accidental passing of his only daughter left a raw festering wound amidst them, a panicked tension betrayed by their nervously shifting eyes. Immediately following Joe Hahn had sent off a trusted handful to go back to Sarah’s apartment and confirm it while the rest sat and stood and lingered about anxiously waiting. Chester was by any accounts a broken man. The powerhouse he had once been was nowhere to be seen in his gaunt and drawn and downcast face. If there was anyone around him that had been anticipating a return of the old ‘shoot first ask questions later’ Chester Bennington they were sorely disappointed. Still for a while no one countered it. They all knew on some level what this news meant, especially to their beleaguered leader. Upstairs in the apartment Chester sat and he stewed. Joe Hahn stood nearby with his arms folded, the look on his face tenuous. As there was a sudden loud knock on the door the Korean man dropped his shoulders and began rubbing his hand, kneading the missing digit where his finger used to be with small anxious circles. All eyes looked up as two men entered the room.

The bald man and his companion lingered briefly in the doorway before one stepped inside. The door closed beneath the crash of cymbals echoing up from the live band still grinding away downstairs. A song had ended and people were cheering. To Dave Draiman, as he stole a glimpse at his former ally and friend with a down turned face, it was as if the city were applauding his timely ascension – or his execution. He nodded by way of greeting and cleared his throat.

“Chester,” he uttered.

He quickly surveyed all the faces that lined the room. Not one of them could hold his gaze as he came to a stop there at Chester’s feet. Chester took his time to raise his eyes. They were stung and red and cold when they did. It was like an estrangement as the two men stiffly embraced. To the simultaneous applause of back-slapping Chester turned his head into David’s shoulder.

“I know,” he said.

When the two men parted it was obvious David was anxious. His shoulders were squared in a defensive pose, but the look on his face was the opposite. As Chester sunk back David cleared his throat again and swept his gaze around a full 360 degrees as if committing every detail to memory. The battered woman lying on the bed a few feet away caused his brow to furrow a fraction before he refocussed his attentions elsewhere.

“Where were you?” Chester wanted to know immediately.

Pulling over a vacant chair David sunk down into it. He sighed. He let his rising and falling shoulders answer for him.

“I called for you almost half hour ago,” Chester urged, for now beseeching the carpet as his audience.

Beneath the toe of his shoe fragments of glass glimmered in the red light. He lit up a cigarette and drew back on it, pushing a ribbon of curling grey smoke out through the corner of his mouth. “What, are you so busy fucking my girlfriend you don’t have time to come say hello?”

David smiled. It was guilty but sour at the same time. The sound he made was equally as humorous and bitter. Stirring in his seat he looked at those closest to him.

“Ah.”

“So what’s the deal?”

“Deal?”

“Yeah, what’s so fucking important? Why are you avoiding me, still too busy running your get rich quick schemes to remember who your old friends are?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m here aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Chester uttered, rubbing at his brow like a man with the weight of the world bearing down upon his shoulders. “You are. And my little girl’s dead. You tell me where’s the justice in that.”

“Dead?” David echoed. He asked as if genuinely shocked. “What? Says who? When?”

Chester s******ed. His face was limp with pain. His eyes were hot with grief and rage.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t know?”

“You think I had something to do with this?”

“What is there a fucking echo in here?” Chester snapped.

His eyes shot up and glared across the few metres that divided them; stabbing David in the face with all the hate he could muster. For a moment he just sat there, huffing on his breaths, his nostrils flaring, his shoulders heaving. To David’s low s****** Chester snorted and swung his eyes away. He continued sucking on his cigarette until there was nothing left to inhale. Stubbing the butt out in an overflowing ashtray he sat rubbing his brow again, running his fingers through his short crop of hair. He fisted the sockets of his eyes that were red and sunken and shadowed with more than a lifetime of pain.

“Where’s Meaghan?” he finally asked.

With his arms now folded across his chest David shrugged, feigning ignorance. The rings on his chin caught in the red light, looking like twin ribbons of blood cascading from his bottom lip.

“How should I know?”

“Don’t! Just don’t!” Chester warned. “I’m in no mood for your… fucking mind games, Draiman. Just tell me where she is!”

“I don’t know.”

“That would be a first.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Chester repeated slowly, deliberately, “I don’t trust you. I know you don’t trust me. You’ve always wanted this, to be me, to have what I have, look at me; I’ve got nothing left! You want it, man? Well go ahead, knock yourself the fuck out! But you leave her out of this, you hear me?”

Straining forward in his chair Chester was all but looming over his former ally as David glared back.

“Or what?” the shorter man grumbled.

The room seemed to hold its breath. In that moment compounded by the tension, the noise of the band down below, of traffic outside, of the clatter of movement out on the fire escape, all seemed exaggerated and amplified for a split second. As wary frowns were exchanged there came the thunder of footsteps ascending the stairs. Behind it all was a high pitched sound, a distant wail of sirens. The door burst open and the room was suddenly gripped in panic.

“Dave- Chemist,” one man blurted, suddenly coming face-to-face with the legend himself. He balked as Chester and David, now also anxiously on their feet, stared back at him. “Cops,” he spat. “They’re coming!”

“How many?”

“I dunno. All of them! I heard it on the two-way. They’re headed here, right for us man, what do we do?”

[Ravynlee]

Chester swore under his breath. He ran an agitated hand through his hair again. David watched on, his lips pursed detestably.

“I dunno. Get everyone out of here.”

“No,” David intercepted. All eyes, including a vilified Chester, fell upon him. David approached so as not to be overheard by those closest to them. “Leave them where they are,” he told the other man.

“Are you crazy? In a few minutes this place is gonna be crawling with cops! The last thing we’re gonna need is-”

“Shields?”

Chester’s argument died prematurely upon his lips as David leant closer.

“Self preservation,” he whispered into Chester’s ear. “You taught me that. Always look out for number one.”

“I don’t condone murder,” Chester reminded with his jaw tight. “I don’t care who it is.” His dark eyes shone with pain.

David scoffed with open disgust.

“Not even when it’s done against one of your own?”

The two men stared at each other, the tiny glimmer of their former friendship dying in those passing seconds as the sirens continued to wail.

“See,” David remarked with a sense of arrogant pride, “it’s that way of thinking that saw you behind bars in the first place.”

He drew backwards and for a second cast his eyes over the woman groggily coming-to on the mattress.

“You see that? The death of her kid was what brought her undone. Mike’s brother saw him come undone, and now it’s your turn. Your sentimentality is what killed your daughter not that bent cop and certainly not Mike Sh-”

A sudden blow to the side of his face smartly silenced David’s words. In the melee, amid the noise and chaos and the panic beginning to fester amidst the handful of men nervously pacing the room, the former Drug Baron and his number 3 pushed and shoved and grappled angrily in close quarters. A gun came out. Then another. In the confusion they were being aimed all over the place. Friends turned on friends and it was clear in once terse heartbeat just where the battle lines had been drawn and who now stood allies with whom. The woman on the bed was now sobbing.

“Deal,” she gurgled. Tears and blood choked her. Though her face was badly battered one wide bloodshot eye stared directly ahead appealing the men, indeed anyone who would listen to hear her plea. “We had… deal… please…”

“Shut her up,” David directed.

The slack-jawed lackey he pointed to, Dave Grohl, refused to move.

David began to approach him. He was stopped. Someone else had burst into the room.

“They’ve just spotted Greyfoxx!” this desperate announcer declared.

Both David and Chester swung their eyes towards him.

“Where?” Chester barked.

The man with his face dotted with piercings looked nervous. “She’s headed to the Presbyterian.”

“The what?”

“New York Presbyterian, it’s a hospital-”

“I know what it is, what the fuck’s she doing over there?”

Chester turned to David. It was beseeching, anxious and scathing all at the same time.

“Rashell,” someone said. “Mike’s wife, that’s where she is. After the shooting-”

“She’s going to finish what she started,” David prophesized. His eyes were clearly boring into Chester’s. They were hot and laced with blame. “Still think he’s not behind it? She’s going to take her out to please you. She’s going to end his bloodline like he ended yours. Still don’t condone violence? Still don’t want part of this war? Well listen to that, it’s coming, whether you like it or not, and you can either step up or fall like the rest of them.”

“This is not a war!” Chester barked angrily. “I never wanted any part of this!” Again he winced as he burrowed his fist into his eyes. “It was a goddamned fucking accident! Jason never should have been there in the first place! I told him, I fucking told him-!”

“Fuck that!” David barked back. “Mike set you up. He took you down. He used her husband to get to you,” he said pointing towards the woman on the bed. “That’s right, she’s a fucking reporter. She’s the reporter, the one that had your face plastered all over the news. Her and her gutless wonder of a husband, that bent cop, Bourdon. Now you know the name?”

Chester’s mouth fell open as he looked towards Ravyn who lay bloodied and in shock on the bed. David’s smirk was haughty as Chester returned to him.

“Who did you think she was, just another piece of ass off the street? God, he used her, he used her connections, her boss, her friend, her family, the whole fucking precinct to get to you. I pulled it all from her hard drive; you won’t believe the list of names that’s on it. And all of it, it all goes back to him, to his vendetta against you, all the proof we’d ever need. He used that cop to frame you so I returned the favour, thought I’d give him a taste of that back-”

“What? What are you talking about? What are you- You did it, didn’t you?” Chester finally gasped. He shook his head. He smiled but it was brimming with all the anguish of a disparaging parent. “You attacked her to set up Mike?”

“It was an act of war,” David declared. “She’s just another casualty.” He shrugged with a nonchalant pout. “It wasn’t personal. It was just business. I was just drawing him out.”

“Rape and murder is just business to you?” Chester cried back. “What the fuck is wrong with you? With this city? You’re just as crazy as he is!”

“Like it or not,” David retorted, “people suffer, and Mike’s coming to finish you off, just like he said he would. And what are you going to do, stand there and fucking cry about it? She doesn’t mean anything to you, what do you care? Fuck she was easy to get to; it was laughable. He’d practically set himself up to take the fall, I just finished what he started. Just like Fox is doing right now!” David was practically yelling by this point with his arms swinging with emphasis, the veins on his temples protruding behind the glowing flesh. “At least she has more balls than you do, Chester! Why she loves you I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell not going to die for someone who won’t stand up for himself! Or for his family! You don’t even have a cause anymore, you’re pathetic! Look at you; look at what you’ve become! You haven’t learned a fucking thing through all of this! You were weak then and you’re weak now and you should have stayed in that jail cell to rot if that was the case - At least then Fox might get over you. Maybe your daughter might even still be alive! And just for the record, that’s personal.”

Chester glared back. He winced as his narrow shoulders fell, the wind having been proverbially knocked from him in those series of verbal blows. But beneath the baggy clothes he was a skeleton barely clinging to life. It was clear he was torn. His heart was aching. After all he had said, after all he had done, after the promises he had made in prison to appease his troubled girlfriend and now this as he stood teetering on the proverbial edge awaiting confirmation that his dreams to be with his little girl appeared to be squandered, he was a broken man without much hope of salvation. David’s words struck exactly where they were aimed and the truth of them extenuated his pain, making it almost unbearable. With his breaths short and sharp and his eyes wet and seething Chester glared at his former friend, at the woman on the bed, and at the few faces that still remained in the room as the sirens drew closer, so close now they were practically drowning out the noise from the live band below, and again ran a hand across his scalp in that universal gesture of helplessness and frustration. In a growl he swore under his breath. He blinked down at his clenched fists as the others made a panicked dash for the apartment door. They were urging both men to follow.

“Come on!” a man named Jon Davis bellowed.

“You and me,” Chester said to the short bald man a few feet away from him, “This isn’t over. We’ll settle this. Later.”

David stared back, his breaths heavy, his shoulders after his vicious tirade were heaving.

“No we won’t,” he panted.

[Ravynlee]

He reached around and snatched the pistol from his back. A shot was fired followed by two more. The sounds of panicked screaming began to ricochet throughout the club. With a dull thud one man hit the floor as the other fell against the opened door. The wood slammed against the wall on rusty hinges from the force of his weight. Before the echoes had even faded Chester slumped forward and lurched his way out of the room. Smears of red followed his descent. David Draiman lay on the floor. He was breathing, but clearly it was agony. He s******ed as much as he was physically able.

“Run!” he growled, lightly dabbing several fingertips to his chest, “You coward!”

He poked the hole that scored his tee shirt and drew his hand up, smearing the blood between his fingers. Weakly his arm fell to the floor. With the last of his strengths he fought to pull himself up.

“I’ll see you in hell!” he bellowed.

His face was hot and scathing and red. His eyes were vicious wet slits as they stared at the opened doorway where panicked people could still be seen thundering past. The sound of his voice was drowned out beneath the cacophony of club-goers, of music, and the scream of sirens lurching across the street. The ceaseless flash of red and blue lights painted the room, making it spin on a sickening axis. With a groan his head slumped back, collapsing with a thud against the carpet. Blood was slowly beginning to pool around him as he lay gasping, huffing on his pain, his rage and misspent adrenalin with his eyes slitted towards the ceiling.

From the noise below he didn’t hear the bedsprings creak above his head as Ravyn slowly pulled herself across it. Sniffling, trembling, her whole body wracked with pain, she stared at him less than an arm’s span away with her one good eye as she reached down, delicately grasping the warm hard steel of a fallen pistol into her palm.

Seeing shadows move out the window David frowned and fought to pull himself up. The figure of a young man with shaggy brownish-blonde hair and pale skin peering around the window ledge with his weapon drawn made him huff decisively. His bloodied fingers splayed for the fallen pistol. He slapped at the glass-strewn carpet. He turned his head in search of it. Hearing a sharp click above his forehead David froze and looked up.

Ravyn was staring down the barrel with her one bloodshot eye spilling silent tears and her face unrecognisable behind the blood and welting bruises. As she struggled to speak, to find the words she had spent practically six months needing to say, she sat there slumped at an agonised angle, her split lips quivering, her whole body swaying, possessed by the force of her pain and the power of her convictions with the feeling of a gun once more in her hand.

“I’ll see you there,” she finally muttered.

Banging his fist against the glass detective Friðbjörn yelled to get the young woman’s attention.

“Stop!” he appeared to mouth silently. It was set against the earsplitting backdrop of sirens and music and now panicked screaming echoing up from the floor beneath them.

Muffled behind the window the plain-clothed cop banged again. He reached for his billfold and slapped it against the glass.

“Don’t! Don’t you do it! Put the gun down! Ravyn!”

His words, fragmented by her exploding heart, by the pounding of blood in her temples, by the noise and choas both in and outside the club, sounded to be coming to her as if spoken underwater.

“You.”

With a s****** David smirked up into the face of the woman he had left bloodied and for-dead on her bathroom floor all those months ago and scoffed at the irony of their situation, their roles now quite literally reversed. But if he was afraid he didn’t show it, his smirk slowly growing to a patronising grin. In the red lights it appeared much like a snarl.

“What are you-... going to do-... huh?” he dared, gnashing his teeth to stave off his breathlessness. “Go ahead-... pull the-... trigger-... you bitch-... you don’t-... have the-”

A single shot rang out.

It was followed by a splitsecond of surreal ear-ringing silence.

When Ravyn blinked up she could scarcely see the two cops that stood out on the fire escape through her tears and through the blood running down into her eye, the other lost beneath a welt the size of a grown-man’s fist. One of the men had his head bowed in defeat, the other stared back at her gravely. Despite the fact her lips were quivering, a non-stop reaction to the shock and the pain, they tried to form some semblance of a smile but were lost behind her scars and her matted hair the ends thick and red hanging like a dishevelled veil across part of her face. The tall man on the other side of the glass blinked up to meet her gaze, the angle of his brow fierce yet strangely accepting. Though she couldn’t see their faces with any great detail, and the noise of a club under siege was errupting like the fires of hell beneath them, a strange kind of peace came across Ravyn’s face. Then with an unsteady hand she turned the gun around. She raised the barrel. She pointed it to the underside of her chin where it came to rest. Then she drew a deep breath. And closed her eyes.

 

 

***

 

Seeing the bloodied and battered woman move the gun towards herself, the young detective panicked.

“Ravyn, no!” Frib cried.

Reactively he raised his weapon, aiming into the glass for a non-lethal shot.

The sound of a loud explosion rang out, followed by distant screaming.

The screaming was getting louder. Maybe, Frib thought, he was just a little disoriented, he’d never been a huge fan of heights.

Below them out on the street people were streaming from The Pit in wild panicked droves. Beneath the garble of shouting and the thunder of more than a hundred feet clattering across the sidewalk, an elongated palm wrapped itself around the young officer’s pistol and slowly pushed it downward. Frib swallowed loudly, his eyes sullen as they swam amidst the shadows beneath his feet.

“It’s over,” a voice seemed to echo from a million miles away.

Frib nodded, not realising it was his voice that had spoken. In the noise that was so loud it was a veritable physical assault he could barely feel his heart hammering with despair inside his chest. When he looked up it was not towards the window, but at the few stars that could be seen at the highest and darkest point in the sky. Though the glow of a billion city lights reflected on the low-hanging cloud around them, Frib pursed his lips as he stared a moment, caught up in the serenity and sheer clarity of the spectacle. He didn’t see the shadow of movement until it was too late, feeling the blow to the back of his head like a sharp block of ice connecting with his skull. As his eyes rolled back and the young detective could feel his limbs lose all coordination, he heard the sound of his ex-partner’s voice continue to echo like some wave washing from a distant shore upon him.

“I’m sorry Kris,” Rob said, snatching the pistol from the hapless man’s grip.

He stooped over the body watching the lights go out and unconsciousness take hold as the whites of Frib’s eyes glistened back up at him.

“This is as far as you go. I know you wanted to help but I can’t take anyone else with me. It has to end now. This is my job. When you wake up, this will all be over. One way or the other, this will all be over, I promise…”

Frib didn’t see his assailant go as his eyes closed to the darkness around him. The last thing he remembered before the cold hard kiss of the metal grills catching his full weight was the sight of the stars and how they shone despite the darkness that threatened to suffocate them. He remembered thinking how strangely beautiful they were and out of place amidst this chaos. Beyond that he didn’t remember anything else. Detective Kris Friðbjörn saw out the bloodshed that night in relative peace and quiet. He was one of the lucky ones. Very few would be so fortunate.

[Friðbjörn]

shit! wow. intense chapter. love the violence lol

good action, I loved Dave's speech btw

[crazy robster]

Damn I have only just now been able to log on so I missed the MSN chat and the chance to get more details! Cause... I have some questions. Call me blonde but...

a) Did Ravyn kill herself or not? 0_o

b) Was Rob Fribs' assailant?

c) What exactly did he do to him?

d) Wtf do I have to do with Mike? What does he want from me? I'm officially panicked now! lol

 

That was brilliant sis! Very intense! I lost my inspiration but you seem to have found it in my place huh? Excellent! Can't wait for more! <3

[Friðbjörn]

yeah when I think about it I often dont quite grasp these things until later on, for my lack of reading comprehension hehe

[andrea]

I'm so glad your continuing the story! But I've haven't read it yet, busy with school, but will this weekend and will give you a better review! Just wanted to let you know that I'm still here.

[crazy robster]

Aww Fribs, if you, who are the most intelligent guy I have ever met, don't always grasp some things then I'm relieved! I thought there was something wrong with me! Well, I think it's because my sis is a writing genius. One's got to be very good at reading between the lines if they want to really know what's going on! Not many writers can do what sis does so artfully! *is proud of her sibling*

 

Oh, by the way...forgot to say that these lines gave me chills and butterflies and an indescribable feeling of pleasant arousal:

"She didn’t just see them but she felt them, relived them, hearing Rob’s familiar low baritone as he laughed along with her in front of the TV, felt his arms around her as he carried her across the threshold and lay entangled with him on the bed sheets, she could smell his scent, feel the warmth emanate from his chest as she listened to him breathe, hear the guttural groan against her ear as they made passionate love, and see the truth in his eyes as he whispered that he loved her…"

 

Not that it was not to be expected, right? Haha I bet sis wrote that part hoping to have this exact reaction from me! Well, you did it sis! *thumbsup*

[Ravynlee]

Aww thanks guys, am sincerely touched by all your kind words - and yes you're reactions, it's what I write for.

 

 

I bet sis wrote that part hoping to have this exact reaction from me!

Actually, I did. I might not be 'Rav the Rob Ranter' anymore but it doesn't mean I've forgotten the past 6 odd years behind me, my sweet. Old feelings still linger, as always Stoked you liked. Little moments like that paragraph you highlighted, as rare as they are now as we come to all this violence, is my way of helping you and those like you to endure the ugliness that surrounds your characters. It's not all doom and gloom that way. Small but meaningful. Stoked you liked.

 

 

Okay, to answer questions;

 

Rav and Dave - I will simply say this sis. I wrote it in a way so that A) I didn't write myself into a corner as I did with Ava's passing (which in itself was completely unexpected, even for me) and B) I was leaving it arguably 'open' so that the reader can interpret from it what they will - and when I finish the story completely you'll either go 'yep, I thought so' or 'holy shit, I didn't see that coming' - but either way, as you said sis, yes that was deliberate. I will admit that when I first penned Rav's attack I wasn't as into David as I am now (in RL) but I decided a while back he would be the purpetrator. Without making it too obvious I made subtle hints. He was pissed off with Fox and her love for Chester when he wanted Fox (or what she had that he wanted to claim for himself) and this made his attack feasable (furstration / rage at a dominant female figure in his life - Note he was always grabbing people by the neck - Rav's strangulation - and his total disregard for life regardless who's it was, always bagging out Chester and occasionally Fox in subtle ways). His motivation was always very simple, as he attested in his speech (thanks Frib, glad you liked) Mike was an easy target to cast suspicion on despite the fact David himself was always seen as being party of the criminal element or 'bad side' with Chester's old crew. And most of you probably still wondered if Mike was guilty or not. That was the idea. Misdirection. (I love the movie 'Sword Fish', can't you tell? XD) Mike needed to be tainted in some way to stop him from being too 'clean and untouchable' as a character. It was tongue in cheek that it wasn't Chester who was the one to tarnish him but one of Chester's crew, and those that were stuck in the middle (Rob, Joanna, Sarah) were none-the-wiser. Or... were they?

Hahaha.

 

Without getting too deep and introspective if you read back through from the very beginning as I tried I did set a few characters up for their final end. That is, Ravyn's gradual decent into madness, David's lust for power, Mike's blindness for revenge, Rob's begrudging loyalty, Rashell's blind faith in her love for her husband, Joanna's emotional tug-of-war, Frib's need to find himself and his niche in the world, all of it is sort of entangled throughout one another. The idea being of course that when I write a part as I did with Chester and David, and ultimately David and Ravyn, I could tie a few loose ends together and leave myself enough room to say, if I needed, 'okay that's solved, they're done, move on to the next one' in essence. I will admit this is ending as I didn't orginally foresee and I'll tell you now as my character's 'inspiration' of sorts, I had actually planned to have me see out a different and far more noble end - but this is working too, and it doesn't stray from the build up from the rest of what's already happened. It wouldn't be that big a shock if she did die, let's say, she was kind of asking for relief from a painful few years of existence in a fashion.

 

Rob and Frib. Okay, hard one. Rob's always been my dark horse in this. Again, this last update was penned in a way that implied Rob hit him out of necessity, if you want, and as Rob sort of stated as he stole Frib's gun (which harks back to his behaviour at the cemetery a while back, for those of you that remember) that he did what he did to sort of save Frib from getting into any more trouble. If like Sis says you read between the lines you'll see all the way along Rob has been looking out for Frib but like a begrudging older brother. Frib's youth and curiosity etc as hes been caught up in this thing with Mike and Chas has him continually teetering on the edge with Rob in some ways. Frib keeps asking questions, he keeps digging for answers and Rob tells him to drop it, telling him what he has to and keeping him in the dark as much as he can - he doesn't want to see Frib get hurt but it's getting to a point he has to be cruel to be kind, or Frib could end up paying for his curiosities with his life. As Frib invited himself along Rob probably thought he was doing Frib a favour by knocking him out. I never deliberately said Rob did it, but again that's to keep my options at the moment open.

 

Joanna, what does Mike want with you? I wish I could say but I wont ruin it. I will say this and see if this makes what's coming any clearer - as David told Chester, this is a war and good people get hurt. Mike and Rob had a deal. Rob broke it when he faked his death and hid out a while, adding insult to Mike's already substabtial injuries over Jason, Brad and now Rashell. Remember what happened just before Haily was born at the river bank when Rob and Mel met I think face to face for the first time - Mike gave Rob incentive to shut his mouth and keep doing his job - then Rob disappeared. The rest I won't say just yet. You'll have to wait and see with what happens next, sorry

 

Rashell, hey, glad to see you're back! I realise you'd be busy with studies etc, at least I think you were when last I updated like near 6 months ago or something like that, and now it's getting close to end of year it's to be expected. We all have real lives outside all this, I'm just happy to see everyone's still interested enough to see this through to the end. I know it's not the most feelgood story of the year but if it weren't for all of you reading I wouldn't do this, I'd just keep it to myself most probably as I usually do, and never finish it! So thanks for coming in and saying hi, and of course I'd be stoked to hear what you think! I love hearing what you all say, makes me grin, and sometimes makes me think too - not such a bad thing.

 

Anyway thanks guys, I know it's a longwinded answer (yes it's been a while) but wanted to catch y'all up to speed for those of you who were trying to get your heard around... well, what's going on in my head at this point. Hope that clears things up even a little.

Thanks again.

 

As for today's update - I just got home from work and will endeavour to sit down and write more today. Start soon. See how far I get. Thanks again!

 

PS - By the way Vi, Sis is right, don't sell yourself so short. You ARE one of the smartest people in this place that I have the honour of calling my friend. Just because you don't grasp something straight away doesn't mean it's your comprehension that's amiss. Sometimes it comes down to me. As I write this and have this world we've created and so many character's dialog and details and place names and past events etc, etc all constantly running around in my head for days and weeks at a time and, what I think makes sense might not make as much sense to anyone else - I forget half the time that no one else knows all the intricacies and details that I do - or think I do Don't ever be afraid to ask questions if you don't get something after a few reads. If you don't get it there's a good chance no one else will either - and that means I need to rewrite for the good of the story - it's a fine line between spelling out all the details and giving too much away too early and losing your readers' interest - and telling then so little they don't know what's going on. Ideally I'd want not just the audience but the story feeling it has evolved and been sufficiently fulfilled at the end when it's all done. We'll see anyway.

 

[woodyloveslinkin]

Am I still in hospital?

[Ravynlee]

Yes. Timeline wise correct me if I'm wrong it's only been a handful of days hasn't it since Ryu beat the living bejesus out of you? Seems longer cause when I wrote and posted it that was like nearly 6 months ago. You're not much help to anyone (your character - you don't even know Ava's dead). If it helps I will say this. You're laying in the same hospital that Rashell is. Fox is coming. She's after revenge on Chester's behalf. Rashell is the one she shot before trying to get to Mike, but YOU are the mother of Chester's kid (that she also doesn't know is dead) and she's NEVER liked you - she's always felt threatened by you, and afraid that once Chester got out he would leave her and settle down and play happy families with you. Hense, it's a case of who's paths cross here first. Mike's gone to hunt down Chas and left Rashell vulnerable. Now Fox is there and no longer has his back Chester's vulnerable. We could play at this all night; Joanna's vulnerable now too away from Joel, and Mel's vulnerable now she's attached in some respects to Benji and trying to cover Bam's lies in taking the fall for Brad's death. Everyone's vulnerable right now but probably few more than you (Sarah) and Rashell - Jojo at least has her health even if she is now hostage of sorts. You two are cornered in hospital rooms. Who's Fox going to find first I wonder?

 

*Insert evil laughter here*

 

More coming. Slowly

[woodyloveslinkin]

WHY do I end up being the mother of a kid in all of these stories? I always ask myself that question when it comes to stories like these. Someone help me if I ever have kids. Well now I see where the borderline is drawn between this story and DS. I am still loving it, btw, continue the good work, ma.

[Ravynlee]

WHY do I end up being the mother of a kid in all of these stories? I always ask myself that question when it comes to stories like these. Someone help me if I ever have kids. Well now I see where the borderline is drawn between this story and DS. I am still loving it, btw, continue the good work, ma.

I've been contemplating another story using a whole bunch of us again (hence making you choose like I did with all my hypothetical questions on MSN) but if it actually goes ahead I'll gladly make you childless. I have to finish this one first. I could always ask why you make me so bitter and sarcastic when I'm only half that in real life I have my moments damnit. I'm only human.

Borderline huh? Don't see it. You'll have to ellaborate on that in the usual place later on.

 

Glad you liked.

More soon.

[woodyloveslinkin]

YES! Can't wait for the next story *does a little dance cos I know who I'm going to be with the seventh son outta a ten children family* Well,they do say number 7 is lucky. And the second part, you have no one else to blame but yourself.