Chain Reaction 2.77: My Name Is Drake

Drake

      At last. It's time. I'm going to be the hero. Everything I've planned for has led to this moment. Emily will wake up and realize it was me who saved her from the 'bad guys.' I'll get the chance to apologize for being a prat. Emily will forgive me, and she'll be mine again.
     I walk down the stairs, and it's eerily quiet. Just in case, I draw my weapon. If they hurt her...

      When I walk into the room, I see just the younger one sitting alone in a chair. He looks at me and snorts, looking at the gun.

      "You just missed your dad," he says, sounding annoyed.

      "Dad got her," I state, also questioning. My blood boils. Dad. ... How?

      "Yeah. Him, that sick bastard Graham, and Ethan. How come you didn't tell me my nephew was a cop? I came back to find him arresting Dad. They never saw me."

      I picture in my mind what must've happened, and I see how Logan probably cowered behind a bush while letting my dad take Emily away. "And yet you escaped capture. And like an idiot, you sat here and waited for me." I'm livid. I haven't been scheming this for ages only to have it so that my father is the hero!

      "Look, asshat, I did my job. What do you expect me to do?"

      "I expected you to do your job. You failed." I hired these two so that Emily wouldn't really get hurt. I trusted that since they were her family that that would mean something. I trusted that they would be able to keep her captive until I could get here, to fight off anyone else. I guess McKinneys are just as hopeless as Taylors, with the exception of Emily, who should be a Goth...and mine.

      He shrugs. "Sorry."

      He's an ass. What a waste of space. I raise my handgun, and he slowly stands, wary.

     He watches me. "Didn't anyone ever teach you it's not polite to point?"

     I snort. This man has no respect for me, treating me like a child with a toy. "I can't have you spilling what you know. She's too important to me." If she finds out I orchestrated this...that would be very detrimental to restoring that relationship. I still have to get to the grandfather. One McKinney at a time, though.

     "Haven't you ever heard of honor among thieves? You think I'd bite the hand that feeds me?"

     I laugh meanly. It's cliche after cliche after cliche with him. I wonder if he's ever had an original thought in his worthless head. "That's all you are is a cliche. You want another one?"

     "Give me the gun, Draco."

     And then he gets my name wrong! He lunges toward me, and I decide to give him an overused line.

      "Eat lead!" I fire.
      He drops to his knees, clutching at his chest and looking at me in surprise. Did he think I wouldn't shoot? Guess I proved him wrong. He falls to the ground, blood gushing from the wound.

      That's disgusting. I think about how blood spurted everywhere like the sim body is made of nothing but it and flesh. Kind of like a water balloon bursting.

     He coughs and moans, rolling over and dying slowly.

     I smile. Watching him die makes me happy. Still, I have one thing left to say.

     "My name is Drake, asshat."

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A/N: That was my first real attempt at blood. Not too shabby if I do say so myself. I'm happy with it, anyway.

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