Chapter Text
It was all blood red. The color was so bright it burned his eyes and elicited a laugh from the man across the room.
"So? What do ya think?" The dark eyes, that had been surveying the scene, met the boys.
"I-I don't want- want to do this." The words burned his throat as they left his mouth. The boys hands shook as he looked down at them. They were red too. His stomach rolled and he fought the urge to vomit.
"Too late. Now you're in it for good," The mans voice was cold and he sauntered through the doorway, "let's go."
"Yes, father." The boy stood and walked behind him, not daring to look at the bloodied heap they left in the room.
~~~~~~
"Mark!" A woman's voice echoed through the grey storage room.
"Yes?" Mark huffed and put down the cardboard box he had been carrying. He recognized the voice as Ms. Ellis, his boss. She came running up to him, a panicked expression on her face. She was dressed in a similar gray work uniform, long cargo pants and a plain T-shirt. Her dark brown hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail.
"Where did you get that box?" She asked sharply, picking it up herself and beginning to walk back in the direction Mark had come from. Mark raised an eyebrow in confusion and brushed the black hair that had fallen in front of his eyes back.
"It was on the back shelf, 3rd row," he replied, following at her heels, "why? I thought you wanted it loaded in the truck for delivery today?"
"No," she retorted, "I told you multiple times we needed the boxes on the 5th shelf on that truck. I also remember telling you to never touch any of the boxes on the back shelf."
The boy rolled his eyes, becoming slightly irritated at her scolding.
"Ok ok, I'll be more careful next time. What's so important about those boxes anyway?"
"It's none of your business, stick to what I tell you to do." Ms. Ellis shortly replied, continuing to walk at a brisk pace.
"Fine. At least let me help you put it back though." Mark reached out, wanting to be helpful. Little did he know that was probably the worst thing he could've done. In his haste, he knocked the box out of Ms. Ellis' grip. The box crashed to the ground, its contents spilling out. They both froze, Ms. Ellis looking at Mark and Mark looking at what was in the box.
There were multiple bags of white powder, what Mark assumed was cocaine, but a card caught his eye. It was blue, the size of a playing card and had a gear on it. He instantly recognized the card as something his dad described. His dad was part of the police force and he had been going on and on about the card one night at dinner. It was a calling card for the Italian mafia.
"Ms. E-" The words died in his mouth at the sound of a gun click at the side of his head.
"You run, you die, do you understand? Yes or no?" Ms. Ellis demanded coldly.
"Yes." Mark whispered out, his voice violently shaking just with that one word.
What the fuck is happening?
"Move." She ordered, pressing the gun against his head.
Mark's mind was racing.
How do I get out of this? Can I even get out of this?
She had a gun and Mark knew the second he made a wrong move a bullet would be in his brain.
They walked out the back entrance, Mark not daring to say a word the whole time.
The crisp air outside made him shiver as he was shoved against the brick wall.
"Don't move." Was the next command and she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, quickly dialing and bringing it up to her ear.
"Blade? It's me, Visage. The kid knows." Mark held his breath to try and hear the reply, but he was unsuccessful.
"Got it." The phone dropped from her hand and crushed under her foot.
"You're in some deep shit now, kid." She shook her head before bashing the end of the gun against his skull. Darkness consumed his vision.
Fuck