SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

The tire iron didn't stop and neither did Ace. He went deaf and blind. He kept swinging until he was sweaty and out of breath. Beats beat Justin bloody and he beat him down.

Then Ace threw the tire iron onto Justin's bloodied twitching form, turned around and walked away.

Justin slowly turned his face up again, daring to lift the back of his head up off the ground.

Ace raised the tire iron, and Justin watched his oldest ally reflect a glint of light off the setting sun.

JACKSON.

HIS NAME WAS JACKSON!

The tire iron swung down.

B064 - Greene, Justin: DECEASED

With a little distance and time Ace was able to regain his breath and as he sipped on his water bottle he searched for his composure.

It was easy to do anything in victory, it was only in defeat that you could find yourself. Ace had really believed that. Ace had been completely wrong. You could find yourself in victory as well. Success could reveal a person's true character just as much as loss. Victory had shown Ace to be callous, cold and cruel. Capable of killing one of his best friends. Capable of beating a crying, begging boy to death. Beating him until Ace ran out of breath. Turning him to an unrecognizable, bloody pulp. Vengeance wasn’t a dish best served cold—it was a dish best served. Period. It had gone down easy enough and it had felt damned good. There was a gratification that came with the gore. A level of vindication that came with the violence.

And then that good feeling disappeared.

It was replaced by a hurt. Not a physical one but a mental and emotional one. A ‘What would people think’ type hurt. A ‘What have I become?’ type hurt. It was easy to do anything in victory—but what did victory cost? Ace had been obsessed with killing Justin and pushed to a certain limit. There existed the embers of another obsession…to win, to go home. But that spark had only just turned to flame. It hadn’t been stoked for a week like his hatred for Justin.

Images of Justin’s body came to Ace’s mind. Visions of his bashed in brains. Echoes of his cries and screams. The sickening crunch and resistance his form felt against the metal of the tire iron—how that resistance completely eroded in seconds. It didn’t feel like justice…it felt like overkill.

And still Ace didn’t feel guilty. Shame failed to strangle the seductive power of success. Ace stayed in his hurt. He relished the pain. He savored the suffering. Beats wanted to feel that shit. Ace wanted to feel it all.

Connor wrote:You— you're gonna have to live with this for— for a long time. And I hope you do, brother. Really.

That’s the plan Cap’n.

That’s the muthafuckin’ plan.

[ Ace Ortega Continued In: ali bomaye ]