SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

What happened next was unreal. JJ wasn't dead. Wasn't down for the count. He wasn't walking away from this, though, not this time. Not with that injury. Claire felt ill. Her focus was on the blood, dripping, dribbling, falling from JJ's stomach. What had he done it for? Why hadn't he just attacked Jimmy from the start, when he could so clearly handle himself? The answer was simple, though. He'd really wanted to change. He'd really thought he could pull it off.

He'd been wrong.

Claire hadn't just been standing by, though. No way was she going to wait helplessly while this all happened. JJ seemed to have Jimmy under control. That didn't mean she could just let this go on. She reached into her bag. The gun was right there. No more time for subtlety, not with how Jimmy was acting. She pulled the pistol out. Line things up. Finish this.

But she couldn't. They were too close together. If she shot now, she'd just as likely hit JJ. She tried to rationalize this away. He was dying anyways. He was also beating Jimmy, though, hurting him badly. She thought she heard a crack. She didn't need to do anything. There would be two bodies on the ground at the end of this.

Besides, she didn't want JJ to die thinking she'd shot at him.

He took Jimmy down. Then he started to talk.

Claire's emotions were a confusion as he spoke briefly to Rosa. Everything that had passed between them back before, everything that had happened since, it all added up to make Claire feel like she was reading someone else's mail. Then he turned to her. The words were simple. Sincere. And then he was saying goodbye.

Claire just nodded at him. Silently wished him well.

Then she glanced to Rosa. It was strange. She couldn't even begin to guess what the other girl was feeling. After all, she and JJ had been in love once. They'd later hated each other. Where were they now?

Her attention was snapped back by Jimmy's voice. The boy had managed to struggle back to JJ's body. He was ranting. Claire couldn't believe he was still moving. He'd have to drop soon. Just fall over and die. She almost brought her gun up, but before she could, he'd grabbed the shotgun. He'd shoved into JJ's mouth. He'd pulled the trigger.

As this happened, Claire ducked behind the gazebo for cover. Seemed things weren't over yet. She'd been a second too slow. She should have finished him off.

It wasn't really hers to do, though. Someone else deserved that, especially if her earlier surmises had been correct. JJ's gun, her original gun, was in his bag. She'd get it. Give it to Rosa.

But for now, she just said to the other girl, "How do you want to do this?"

((Jumping Clu in thread order as she is away))

Jimmy spat on the ground as the girl dove for cover behind the Gazebo. The action was so cowardly, a desperate attempt at self-preservation, confirming all his already biased hatred towards the girl. Not even the fact that the girl was plainly terrified of him could turn his mood around. Instead of feeling pride, all he felt was disgust. She was a coward, hiding behind her gladiator until he'd fallen. And instead of turning, facing the consequences, what did she do? She ran. If anyone deserved to die next, it would be her. Jimmy dropped his shotgun to the ground in front of JJ's bloodied corpse. The girl had gone, and Rosa was safe. The threat was removed. All thoughts of the girl left his mind, he'd been victorious in the end.

But at what cost? His body ached. He was still moving, still breathing. How, he wasn't quite sure. He hadn't been picked up. He'd been thrown across the clearing, with enough force to crack a wooden banister with his scrawny frame. His eyes were heavy, and Jimmy struggled to keep them open, visibly annoyed at the effort. His movements were short, jerky, his breaths sending daggers shooting through his chest.

Should see the other guy.

Jimmy turned, looking at the remains of what had once been JJ Sturn. The boy's brains had been blown clear out the top of his head by the shotgun blast, soaking into the mud. The air stank of death and blood, and Jimmy wanted to gag. He struggled, biting his tongue until the feeling subsided. Puking was a sign of weakness. He couldn't do that.

I won, no sweat. No sweat at all.

"No sweat" He gasped, his words coming out in between desperate gasps. He staggered upwards, stumbling over JJ's corpse, towards Rosa and the other girl. He didn't make it far.

Jimmy collapsed mere inches from where he previously lay, Awkwardly balancing himself on his hands and knees. He was covered in dirt and what had once been JJ. As far as he could tell, he had no open wounds. But that didn't mean shit all. Jimmy cursed, internally begging himself to stand, stand like the man he was.

Jimmy let out a low growl, pushing himself back up. His head hurt, as if he'd been the one to have his brains blasted out. The pain bothered him, but not as much as his appearance. He couldn't afford to be weak, not so soon after JJ. Rosa wouldn't accept that. He wouldn't accept that.

This was nothing. Fucking nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Jimmy stood in front of Rosa, wincing and grinding his teeth together, trying to ignore the pain running through his frame. Gingerly he extended his arms out to his sides, his blood drenched hands balled into fists. Spittle dribbled out of his mouth as he painfully breathed in and out, struggling to keep his eyes open. It was as if the sun was right in front of him, personally blinding him. Try as he might Jimmy only managed to force his watering eyes open partly, staring through the tears to Rosa.

Rosa. Fucking gorgeous, drop dead beautiful, Rosa Fiametta. Worth more then anyone at Bayview had ever thought possible. His number one fan, his first disciple. Just another chew toy of Bayview, labelled and desperate for a reason to stay alive. And then she'd found him, and she'd believed. She had told him, broken down and told him just how much shit she'd put up with, how she'd been told he was weak and cowardly. How she knew that was anything but the truth. Rosa had been the first to look at him, and see past the lies. He wasn't scrawny, weak or ugly. He was a man, and she loved him for it.

Yes. She loved him. His entire deal, his message and his goal. No..., no not his goal. His destiny. Jimmy Fucking Brennan had always been meant for more then Bayview. And now he was finally on his way.

Across America thousands of kids just like him, abused, disregarded by the 'popular kids' would walk a little taller, because Jimmy Brennan had been through it, he'd been through it and he was taking them down. And he was in their corner, him and Rosa, taking on the bastards, showing everyone what he was truly capable of when they pushed too hard. Fuck the gangbangers, the UFC kids and the military brats. Jimmy had been through more pain then they ever had, emotional and physical. And had he blinked? No. He'd waited. And when God finally decided it was his turn, Jimmy had taken command. He'd killed two boys in cold blood, without any remorse. He'd killed them, he'd bragged to the camera, daring the world to take him down. He wasn't going back on that. He hadn't made a promise. This was different. It was an oath. A... warrior oath.

Jimmy Brennan wasn't crying. Warriors didn't need to cry.

Fucking amazing. Battle scars. That's what they are. Battle scars. I got scars. Girls like scars. Girls know- All 'cross America. They know I'm real. I'm not a coward. I'm a fighter, I'm a hero.

With some effort on his part, Jimmy smiled at Rosa, trying to avoid laughing.

"Ch- check it. Battle.." He mumbled, letting his words fade out into a quiet and alarmingly innocent laugh. He dropped his arms to his side, dead weight.

"It's okay now. I got'em. We- let's go. Need to go." He said abruptly, turning and hobbling away towards his dropped weapon. "Need to get movin'. Come'on Rosa. Gotta bail, gotta- fuckin'- ...walk."

Despite the pain of bending over, and an awkward grunt in protest, Jimmy grabbed his gun, before hobbling up the steps of the Gazebo towards his supplies.

"Gimme... Gimme a hand. Rosa?"

((Permission for everything here has been obtained))

Rosa just wasn't going to do it, and Claire had had enough of this nonsense. Paralysis was about the worst thing that could happen in this situation, and passivity was a foolish, useless reaction. She'd been guilty of it herself, because she'd trusted that JJ had things under control. His newfound optimism and confidence in a peaceful solution had been a siren song, luring her to complacency.

"Never again."

JJ was dead, Rosa perhaps legitimately Jimmy's ally, and the bloodied killer was still moving. He seemed like he'd forgotten Claire even existed.

Thing was, invisibility could be an advantage at times like these. Priority number one was to retrieve JJ's bag, and the mini magnum still within. Rosa wasn't someone Claire could trust with a weapon, not now. She'd been foolish to consider it. Jimmy certainly didn't need another. Claire sprinted to the bag, snatched it up. It was far enough from the gazebo. She had a bit of breathing space.

Glancing back, she could see Jimmy still there. He was still moving. He was still alive, even after all he'd been through, and Rosa had made no move to finish him. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe she didn't want to. It didn't matter anymore. She'd been passed the initiative and hadn't run with it. That left matters in Claire's hands. Jimmy had killed one of her allies. He was a menace, and would continue to be one as long as he remained unchecked.

Claire aimed her gun

"I should have done this way sooner."

and squeezed the trigger three times.

Then she was off. If she hadn't killed Jimmy, or if he was taking his time dying, he might still be able to reach that shotgun for retribution. If Rosa actually had been his ally, she might go for it too. Either way, Claire Lambert had no intention of being on the wrong side of it.

((Claire Lambert continued in I Was a Teenage Hand Model))

"Rosa?"

Jimmy stood on the steps of the Gazebo, wavering back and forth, blinking inconstantly. His side was on fire, tears streaming down his cheeks. The pain was as much a part of him as anything now. Even if- no- even when he won, he could not imagine ever coming back from it. Reaching out with trembling hands he grabbed the railing, keeping himself upright. Fatigue swept over him. He couldn't stop. Not with Rosa watching. Not with the world watching.

Never stop. Never stop, never die, never-

"Rosa?" He called again, his voice cracking ever so slightly. His words were garbled, and it was hard to speak, which only added to his annoyance. The girl wasn't coming. For a split second, he was sure she had abandoned him. But the thought was ridiculous. There was no reason for it, no basis...

Jimmy spun, hobbling back down the steps. Rosa was still there, like he knew she'd be, standing in front of JJ's corpse. He grinned, despite himself. She was looking off, towards their thing- no. Towards something else. Something else coming around the side of the Gaze-

BANG.

His eyes went wide. Without even thinking Jimmy launched himself forth, as gunfire cracked over his head, his hands coming up instinctively to cover his face. A cry of terror rose up from his throat as he went down, tumbling in the dirt, his shoulder seeming to explode in agony. He could barely see through his tears as the gun sounded again a second time.

NO!

He began to panic, his breaths coming in frightened gasps. The second shot went wide, nicking the Gazebo rail, sending wood chips flying through the air. Jimmy swung his head around, seeing the girl, the girl he'd so stupidly disregarded, pistol raised, pointed his way.

No! No! Never stop, never die!

Without even thinking, Jimmy vaulted up, his gun abandoned in the dirt, fury in his face. She was trying to kill him, she was trying to KILL him, right in front of Rosa. He wouldn't stand for it. Jimmy began to run as fast as he could towards the girl, his head down, his legs pumping in rhythmic agony. He wasn't about to die like a dog, not after all that he'd done. If he was going to die, he'd face her head on. Teeth gritted, Jimmy felt the wind whistle past. For a brief day-dreamy moment, he was sure he was running at the speed of sound, like a bullet train. The girl was aiming- but he was so far away... In his gut he knew he'd never make it. Deep within him, a tired voice was screaming, pleading against what he knew was basically suicide.

But he couldn't back down, not in front of Rosa. Not in front of the audience...

BANG!

Jimmy skidded down on his knees through the dirt, letting out a bloodcurdling scream. His fists bunched, arms up across his face in a makeshift X. For a second he was sure he'd been hit, but it wasn't a new pain, it was an old one, his ribcage screaming up against him, the all too familiar dizziness arising to assail him once more. He went sideways, his skid developing into a pitiful roll as gravity and friction brought him to a stop. He couldn't stop panting. The smell of smoke filled the air. Jimmy looked up, just in time to see the girl vanishing into the tree line.

Letting out a groan he dropped his head down into the dirt. He couldn't for the life of him catch his breath. He was shaking all over, his eyes wide with fear. What had he done? If the bullet had hit home, he'd be dead. He'd ran straight at her, not fearful... Just rage. It wasn't natural. It had been one of the stupidest, most ballsy things he'd ever done in his life. One of those things he'd read about, or see in a movie, dream about doing. A smile cracked across his face, even as he shivered. He'd nearly died, for what? The 10th time? It was incredible what he was capable of... But why was he shaking? Letting out a grunt of pain, he bunched his jaw, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

What the fuck Jimmy. What the fuck! You trying to die? No. No, can't die. Never stop, never fucking die. So- so why-

For the umpteenth time he hauled himself up, stumbling awkwardly to his feet. Loosing his balance Jimmy staggered forth, catching the side of the Gazebo, holding himself up with all his strength. His heart was still pounding, his mind in a blind panic with the realization of what had just happened.

I can't die. No, I can't do that, that's not what I'm here for. No- Can't do it again. Get the gun next time, you stupid fuck. Get the gun, kill her. Don't- Don't- But.. It was ballsy. It was incredible, it was... Running towards the gunfire? Heroes do that. I wasn't afraid of dying. I wasn't planning on it, it was- reaction. Thinking with my guts. Guts everywhere. That wasn't suicide. That was guts and balls.

"Moxie." He whispered, his sentence coming out so garbled it was near impossible to tell what he'd said. His shakes finally stopped. Jimmy jerked his head back and forth, shaking himself like a wet dog. He'd forget what had happened, he decided. His valiant dash towards the girl... It was pure instinct, nothing more, nothing less. He'd been obscured by his rage, intent only on making a kill. Not again. It was a mistake, but no one was perfect. Not even the good guys like him. He looked towards Rosa, his eyes wild and maniac.

"Get your stuff. We gotta' big day ahead of us."

((Jimmy Brennan, Rosa Fiametta continue in The Man Your Man Could Smell Like))