#faked death
In all fairness, Ethan, Claire was never convinced her charms would work on you. But I was supremely confident, having tasted the goods. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, Ethan.
A has been led to believe that B is dead… and when they’re reunited it takes a hug to convince A otherwise.
May 28th “I’d rather not”
Faked death | Iron | Ditch
Whumpee trembled next to whumper, blood oozing from the gash whumper had carved into their hands, which were bound behind their back. They watched the body of the unknown and unfortunate homeless man burn to ashes in the ditch in front of them next to their wrecked car.
“Now comes the hard part, my darling, but it’s necessary for us to stay together and remain unbothered,” Whumper crooned lovingly into their ear.
What more could they want? They’d already forced the blood from their hands so it could be sprinkled all around the fire.
Whumper took out a pair of plant cutters and grabbed whumpee’s bound wrists. They twisted their arms until whumpee was bent nearly double with the strained position.
Whumpee let out an unearthly scream as the blades clamped around their pinky finger and contracted. There was no pulling or fighting, they couldn’t from the position that Whumper held them. They screamed and screamed hysterically as Whumper cut both pinky fingers from their hands. They collapsed to the ground as pure agony radiated up their arms. Their hands throbbed, permanently mutilated forever. Their remaining fingers trembled violently as they tried to process what whumper had just done.
Whumpee watched as his fingers were tossed to the edge of the fire where they would be burned, but easily identifiable and therefore most likely to be tested for viable fingerprints or DNA.
Whumper grabbed whumpee by the iron collar around their neck.
“There, it’s done my lovely. Now we shant ever be disturbed. I have a lovely home ready for us to go to. It’s on an island. It’ll just be the two of us. Forever. Isn’t that wonderful?”
They dragged whumpee toward the waiting vehicle.
“I know that was unpleasant, but it was a necessary sacrifice, don’t you agree?”
Whumpee could feel the blood pulsing from the missing digits and they grew faint, knees buckling.
Whumper caught them delicately in their arms. “Oh you poor thing. You must be exhausted. Faking your own death is hard work, isn’t it? Come. Let’s get those wounds cauterized. I rather not have you bleeding out on me. I left the cigarette lighter on in the car for just that purpose. It’s why I chose this old relic. And then we’ll be at the air strip and on my private plane in no time. We can finally relax. No one will be looking for us.”
Whumpee finally fainted when the glowing hot metal of the cigarette lighter was pressed against the wound where their pinky used to be.
No. 9 - RUMORS OF MY DEATH HAVE BEEN GREATLY EXAGGERATED
presumed dead | (blind) rage | tears
“Do we have to do this?” There was more than a hint of hesitation to his tone.
“We don’t have a choice. I need you to trust me.”
“But what about Fao-”
“Harrison. Please. Do this for me. Finn? He needs to die.”
Things hadn’t been the same at the Daniels, everyone moping around and just not doing much at all. Harrison and Steve had paid their respects and then quickly left, making various excuses. Jess, on the other hand, hadn’t even shown up. Her apartment was locked, and hadn’t any signs of anyone living there whenever Fred had sent someone round to check on her. Her brother promised he’d seen her, relieving some of their worry. Besides, they had so much more to worry about.
Fred hadn’t believed it at first, none of them had. But, they’d seen the body. Steve had assured them it was Finn and there was no foul play, so that was that.
Life had to go on, they didn’t have a choice but to. There was a small wake organised, closed casket, and only for the closer members of the gang. It was more formality than anything, a sign of respect for Finn, something that a lot of the previous members hadn’t been privileged enough to get.
Since Finn’s side operation had gone sideways, Steve and Harrison had gone to ground. Sure, they attended what they had to with the Daniels, but the more they could keep out of the way, the better. The cops had been far too close to arresting one of them, and they couldn’t have it. They couldn’t have Fred finding out that way, and they doubted he’d be able to get their charges cut too. Steve had to be careful too; the hospital was already suspicious of his police record.
Harrison had work to do, anyway. A loner with no alliances, he was often contacted for various other jobs. Fred knew that too, as did Finn, and always held him at arm’s length. After all, someone with such switching loyalties was just asking for trouble. He was useful for finding moles, often recognising men from other rival gangs. His alliance with Fred was stronger than most realised though, and it wasn’t ever a coincidence their names would end up on Fred’s desk, and then their bodies in the river.
Fred had organised a raid on a nearby warehouse, a front for a rival’s drug ring. While none of what he did was exactly legal, he did have standards, and spent a lot of time making sure others by their turf did the same. Certain weapons and forged documents were often passed without much guilt, but drugs were different. They had their outreach programmes, and often took a large chunk of their community help.
Harrison had agreed to go with them, an apparent favour to Fred. It was a simple enough mission for him; in and out, with just a hint of murder.
While the rest of Fred’s men dealt with the ring, Harrison slipped away. He was quiet on his feet, appearing behind his mark and quickly dragging him away. It was a swift and practiced end, though it still made his stomach twist. It wasn’t the first man he’d killed, and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. He dumped the body, hoping it would just be seen as a casualty of the raid. He strolled casually back to the rest of the fight, took a few men out that were too close and gaining on Fao, and then hopped back in Steve’s van. He’d done what he’d had to do, he wasn’t being paid for more than that.
Ever since Finn’s… Death, Fao hadn’t trusted anyone in the family. Something was going on, he knewit. He could feel it. He’d know if Finn really was gone, he’d feel it. And with Harrison sniffing around, it felt even more like something was amiss. Fao enjoyed the other man’s company, he always had done, but with Finn gone it really felt like something was going on.
Even with his suspicions, Fao had been acting recklessly. Too much alcohol, too many cigarettes. He was easy to provoke, always getting into fights, and he was happy enough to go out with Fred on this mission. It would give him a reason to get his blood up, to punch people and get away with it. He saw Harrison take out a couple of people getting too close to him, and then he just… disappeared. Gone, and he wasn’t there when the fight was over. Something had to be going on.
The raid had gone smoothly for everyone involved. Fred had silenced a rival, and Harrison had taken his mark out. It wasn’t fully finished, he knew that. It would be a few weeks before they were sure it had had the correct result, but it was a move in the right direction.
It was nervous waiting, Harrison flitting from boss to boss and finishing what he had to. When he got the call it was over, he was more than relieved. It had gone on for far too long, though luckily not as long as they’d originally planned for. Arrangements were made, weapons changed hands, and time moved on. He’d done what he needed to, murdered people he never thought he would. He never wanted to be involved like that again. He said his goodbyes to Fao, thanked Sheila and Fred for their offer to stay, and disappeared into the early evening.
The evening dragged into night, with Fao irritable and unable to sleep. He wasn’t sure who else was up, and he didn’t really care, but he headed downstairs after a few hours of tossing and turning, lighter and cigarettes in hand.
He wasn’t going to bother turning the lights on in the kitchen, but they were already on when he got downstairs, and he could hear someone moving around in there. He’d thought everyone was in bed, but maybe not. Now on his guard, he edged into the room, footsteps light on the wooden floor.
He’d not expected to see Fao so soon, and not like this. He cleared his throat. “Don’t shoot.”
Fao froze, barely believing what he was seeing.
“‘don’t shoot’?! Don’t fucking shoot?! I’ve half a mind to, now. What the fuck, Finn?!”
He laughed uncomfortably, placing the bag of crisps back on the table. “Shh, you’re going to wake everyone else up.”
“You come back from the dead and the first thing you say to me is don’t shoot?!”
“I - I’m sorry.” He softened. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“I thought you were dead, Finn.” Fao said, his voice cracking. “We had a funeral.”
“It had to be real.”
Fao’s hands curled into fists at his side. “Why? What was so awful that you had to disappear without telling me? Maybe the alcohol has caught up with me and I’m seeing things. One too many concussions. I need you to explain what’s going on, and yesterday.”
“Why don’t we take a breath?” Finn backed away slightly, his hands raised. “I’ll make coffee, we can get mum and dad up.”
“Harrison knew, didn’t he?”
“Get some biscuits, relax a bit, y'know?”
“That’s a yes, then. Who else knew? Was I the only one?!” Fao stepped closer.
“Harrison had to take me out. There was a mole, he was going to end up hurting one of you.”
“And what, you couldn’t speak to me? Your brother.Who else knew?!”
“Just Steve.” He backed further away, his back hitting the cupboards. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“I didn’t want to!”
Fao closed the distance between them and grabbed Finn’s shoulders, slamming him hard into the cupboards behind him.
Finn groaned, but didn’t fight back. “Ow?”
“I could fucking kill you!”
“Go ahead.”
“Don’t be an ass.” He grumbled, and moved to pull him in for a hug. “I never want to lose you again.”
Finn hesitated before wrapping his arms around Fao. “It’s been hell.”
“You’re telling me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, dickhead.” He mumbled. “I really need that fucking cigarette now.”
Their hug was interrupted by the hallway light flicking on and the sound of the safety flipping back on. Fred and Sheila stood in the doorway, staring in shock at the pair.
“I need a fucking drink.”
Fao laughed hoarsely. “I think we all do.”
“I brought wine?” Finn offered, holding up a bottle after rummaging through his bag. “Jess and I didn’t finish it.”
Fao reached for it. “Wine will do.”
