[ It's an innocent mistake, one Drake doesn't even register as such until Hadriel is gone. For Connor, too, the HQ fading into the following:
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Drake is standing in a field at night, looking down at the shovel in his hands, the soil beneath. He tosses another load of dirt out and onto a pile, which reveals he’s standing in a shallow hole. No, not a hole. It’s too long to just be a hole. He’s standing in a grave.
“That’s enough,” someone calls out, and Drake exhales heavily from exertion, sticking the shovel upright in the dirt and turning to look at whoever spoke. It’s a man with a gun, pointed directly at Drake. “Hands up!”
“Okay...” Drake lifts his hands, decides not to say that if he were going to attack, keeping hold of the shovel would’ve been the smarter idea. He doesn’t want to attack. But he is afraid, even though his voice is calm and even. “Fish, you don’t gotta do this…”
Apparently, the other man disagrees. He pulls the trigger twice, both bullets hitting Drake in the abdomen. He looks down and sees the holes, two red spots spreading on his white tank top.
He was digging his own grave, it would seem, and the impact of the shots and the pain drop him to the ground. But before the man can adjust his aim and finish Drake off, there’s a movement behind him. A small, squirrely guy, also with a gun, who whacks him in the back of the head with its butt. The original assailant falls and turns to see who’s there, tries to aim at the little guy instead, but he’s too slow. The newcomer raises the gun and shoots him straight in the head.
Drake’s attacker’s body lands right on top of him, sending another wave of pain through him. He lets out a low groan.
“You’re welcome,” his savior says, tucking his gun away. “Shit. Now how the hell am I gonna get you to the car?”
He pulls out a cell phone instead of helping get the body off of Drake, who is pushing at it ineffectually as his strength fades and his vision blacks out. ]
no subject
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Drake is standing in a field at night, looking down at the shovel in his hands, the soil beneath. He tosses another load of dirt out and onto a pile, which reveals he’s standing in a shallow hole. No, not a hole. It’s too long to just be a hole. He’s standing in a grave.
“That’s enough,” someone calls out, and Drake exhales heavily from exertion, sticking the shovel upright in the dirt and turning to look at whoever spoke. It’s a man with a gun, pointed directly at Drake. “Hands up!”
“Okay...” Drake lifts his hands, decides not to say that if he were going to attack, keeping hold of the shovel would’ve been the smarter idea. He doesn’t want to attack. But he is afraid, even though his voice is calm and even. “Fish, you don’t gotta do this…”
Apparently, the other man disagrees. He pulls the trigger twice, both bullets hitting Drake in the abdomen. He looks down and sees the holes, two red spots spreading on his white tank top.
He was digging his own grave, it would seem, and the impact of the shots and the pain drop him to the ground. But before the man can adjust his aim and finish Drake off, there’s a movement behind him. A small, squirrely guy, also with a gun, who whacks him in the back of the head with its butt. The original assailant falls and turns to see who’s there, tries to aim at the little guy instead, but he’s too slow. The newcomer raises the gun and shoots him straight in the head.
Drake’s attacker’s body lands right on top of him, sending another wave of pain through him. He lets out a low groan.
“You’re welcome,” his savior says, tucking his gun away. “Shit. Now how the hell am I gonna get you to the car?”
He pulls out a cell phone instead of helping get the body off of Drake, who is pushing at it ineffectually as his strength fades and his vision blacks out. ]