HearseGirl89
Art is in the eye of the beholder.
Strong language content ~ Reader discretion is advised.
(OOC: Just testing waters, if you will. It is a sneak preview and hopefully to add my full arc and character development into one ginormous canon. I refuse to go into further detail, due to spoilers, though most of it is written in stone elsewhere. Just not with too much description on the backstories. Somberly; dull-fully a simple, yet broad perspective. The main and final canon will be extremely explicit on elusive details on what the characters look like in the future. For now, the main ones begin in school. So without further adue, this is partially one of several Arcs.)
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Chapter 1
"In the news today, Candice Leopold, former assailant to crime boss Rupert Thorne’s gang in Gotham City made headlines in the paper. After a brief shoot out, Candice was brought into custody at a junkyard in the small town of Brule, located in Nebraska. Five of the men that were accomplices to the gang, perished in the incident, along with one of our very own discharged Rangers. On route to the trials, Candice’s chargers were dropped by the State Representative, Joseph Kringle. Meanwhile, in other news, there has been a nationwide man hunt for Rupert Thorne, after his escape from Blackgate penitentiary."
“What are you watching that junk for, son?” The man spoke, turning off the television.
In the small island city of Galveston, stood a two story, town home that had been built in the 1900’s. A family of four lived in this abode. Two parents and their children.
“I was watching that, dad. The teacher told us to write a paper about gangs and what effect they can have on the American economy.” The scrawny fifteen year old whimpered.
“Steven Walker was our neighbor for years… some of the stories he told me, would surprise you. You should be interviewing me, not getting your information from the rightest media.” The father sat in his lazy boy chair, “See the problem with the rightest media is…” He paused, watching his son simply take a stand and beginning to walk away, “Where are you going?”
Upstairs in the bedrooms, the son escaped to his sister’s bedroom. Pretty in pink, the bedroom filled with all sorts of stuff animals, a shelf full of fictional and instructive books. And closest to the window was a computer. At the desktop, sat a young girl, ripe age of thirteen years, who still has yet to hit puberty.
On the lit screen was content that should have been only for adults. The room door slammed shut, jolting the young girl to quickly close the internet windows down. Squeaking in shame, “Donnie. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I thought you were working on our homework.” Donnie spoke as he stepped closer to his sister, “Robin, I didn’t know you were such a little sexual monster.” He drew with a coy grin.
She had not moved, nor turned to face the attitude of her older brother; instead, she hung her head low. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll work on our homework.” She twisted, still not able to make eye contact with Donnie.
Only for Robin’s throat to be caught by the hand of her own brother, shoving her back into the chair, Donnie’s tone grew deeper, “You’ll do my homework first! Or do I need to sic your own dog on you again?”
Gasping to this, she shook her head, “N-No… not that again. Anything but that!”
The fifteen year old raised his brow, “Would you prefer something a little more… smaller?” He chuckled coldly, tugging at his package.
Robin shied away from the sight, “You know how I feel about that. It’s not right. We are simply just siblings. You should have the upmost care for me and our parent’s wishes.”
His mood settled, releasing the grip on his sister’s neck, caressing her cheek, “They’re your parents. You are their grade A student. Hell, they’re trying to send you to college. I’m just a stranger they brought into this house. I mean fuck, you’re smart. Figure it the fuck out. I was never born into this family and I’ll never be adopted.” Seizing her chin to yank the attention back to himself, “But you? You’ve always treated me with kindness. I do truly love you.” He sighed with anguish, “Unfortunately, I just have some mental disabilities. I’m sorry, two.”
After a moment of silence, Robin finally spoke, “It’s okay. I forgive you. If you want, I could…”
Donnie extracted himself, pulling back from Robin, “No. It’s fine. But if you can send me that link from the dark web, I can find it in my black heart to forgive you.” Snickering as he made an exit, “Normal people get so hot and bothered over the littlest things. It would be out of a human’s nature to have any sort of self pleasure.”
The mother had walked out of the kitchen, pausing on the preparations of a stew, to speak with her husband, “Dear, he’s almost a grown man. He doesn’t need you telling him wild stories. And if it’s for a paper he’s writing, well that’s good. At least he’s doing his homework. I just want him to get above those D grades that he has.”
“Well, he’s great in science; he does have a B minus. And he’s almost unstoppable in debate club. So far, he hasn’t lost an argument in debate yet. Even in a single debate about one of the three state representatives of Nebraska. Joseph Kringle? That guy is a genius! Unfortunately his teachers have their heads too far stuck up their asses.” The father sighed, kicking up the leg rest on his chair, “It’s just shameful that he can’t be smarter than his sister in any other of the classes.”
Smiling to her spouse’s excitement, “Well, maybe you two should watch the livestream together.”
The father shot out of his chair, “That’s right! I forgot he was doing a speech at four thirty!” Checking the time on his watch, he then scurried for the remote, turning the television onto the live feed of the politician’s address to the state of Nebraska. To which, he called out for his son, “Hey Don! Come here! Joseph Kringle is on!”
Donnie ceased in the hallway, clenching his fists, “Fuck! Blue balled again…” He muttered, before shifting his course to the stairway.
“For the state of Nebraska, I must address this terrible mishap of some sort of attack. But I assure all of my people that Candice Leopold did not instigate her protective service members to attack nor kill those affected.” Joseph announced, “I had no idea something of this manner would occur, a week before my bill passed. But without it, an innocent woman would be rotting in jail as I speak, for a crime that she did not commit.” Clearing his throat as the politician tightened his tie, “Now then, I am looking into secondary murder charges placed upon the Thorne family, living in Brule. It is unfortunate that Candice should have alerted the authorities that she was being threatened by that family. But here is the thing, I will not speak of any names, one of the family members were the first to draw a weapon, provoking a shootout. Candice briefly told me about her history with the underground Thorne organization, from Gotham. But now it seems as if the corruption has spread to our beautiful state. We are disheartened that Jay Walker was once a Texas Ranger, a hero to all in the state of Texas, but he broke his oath. By joining the Thorne gang. We are saddened to learn that even a lawman can fall into the temptations of greed and chaos!” Joseph slammed his fist down on the podium, “And I will not stand for Chaos to rein in our great state! I plan to be introducing thirty seven new bills to prevent organized crime within the next three years, before my second term is up!”
The father sighed as he muted the television, “Ah well… there goes my liking for Jay. Such a shame.”
Donnie shrugged his arms, “Well, things happen. I’m glad I didn’t have to know that Jay dude. Um… dad, is it fine with you if I go hang out with my friends tonight?”
The father peered at his son, raising a brow, “Did you finish your homework?”
Yet the mother chimed in, “Oh honey, the chances of him finishing his homework are slim, especially after you turned off that newscast he was trying to watch. And even if he didn’t do it, you know he’s just going to sneak out anyways. It is better that he’s social, unlike his hermit of a sister.”
The ring of the school bell chimed, announcing to the high schoolers that a lunch break was ensuing. With students rushing out of their classes, most heading off to the lunchroom, the nerds off to the library and computer lab and the rest divided to the outside world, within the compound of the school grounds.
Donnie found comfort on the shaded side of the school, sitting in the grass, hugging his back against the wall; chowing down on some chips. The school’s healthy deemed lunches were mere pieces of cardboard that only appeared as appetizing consumption substances.
His aura caught onto a single female, leading her rat pack of imbeciles. The girl stood nearby, speaking softly, “You are always alone. Maybe I can cheer you up with something. Do you mind if I sit?”
“Netty.” He groaned, strenuously getting up from his spot, “The day you sit, is the day I put a choke collar around that pretty little neck of yours.”
“Ooh… did he just indirectly call you a bitch?” One of the clique members pointed out.
Donnie smirked, “That’s the term of a female dog, isn’t it? Or were you not paying attention in your own biology class?”
The leader of the packrats, held a shell shocked expression, “But we’re in the same class!”
As Donnie sauntered off, another fellow student within the group sighed, “Netty, when are you going to get that he doesn’t like you? I mean he’s as cold as Ice.”
Though this seemingly stalker, Netty held a new dumbfounded look for a moment, “But… but… He’s my prince of ice! Why are you willing to sacrifice our love!”
Not even gifting the sweet pleasure to such an estranged girl, Ice commented, “Why don’t you scurry off to the library or… like fuck, even the dark web, maybe there you can actually find a mate worth your species.”
The chick stargazed for a moment, envisioning a filter of hearts and sparkles around her target, before flinging herself into motion towards him, “Tell me more daddy! Tell me how I’m a bad bitch!”
“Fuck these crazy bitches…” Donnie grumbled to himself, before picking up a quickened pace. He bounded into the parking lot, rounding vehicles, before a large black object stops him in his tracks.
Everything seemed to flash by in seconds; the sight of a lifted truck’s tire, before he is hit by the vehicle. The sounds of a spine cracking as a single tire rolled over his back. Immediately the truck rolls to a roaring halt, just before a second tire could roll over the fifteen year old.
The driver of the vehicle, a seventeen year old, the star quarterback for Galveston’s school had flew out of the enlarged truck, “Dude! I’m sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t be running through the parking lot like a dumbass! Didn’t your mother ever teach you-” He paused in petrified silence as he peeked underneath the big diesel. The boy who had apparently got hit had seemed to have vanished.
“Fucking Tony.” A harsh voice responded behind the jock, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to be speeding through parking lots like a little dick driver?”
The jock snapped his attention towards the voice, his blood ran cold as the hairs on his arms stood on end, “Oh… oh fuuck… It’s- It’s you… ” He drew with disbelief, “How did you-?”
There, Donnie stood with only a tattered shirt, a grin stretching from ear to ear, licking his lips in the satisfactory of horror in it’s purest form. And it was not even Halloween yet. “Such a shame. Galveston’s own muscular school bully. Frightened of a little twig like me? Isn’t that what you call other students?”
“No-Now… take it easy… I didn’t mean to.” He backed against his truck. Tony’s heart , listening to the female students calling out for Donnie.
Donnie held his smirk as he inched closer, “Hear that? They are looking for me.” He chuckled coldly, “Wouldn’t it be a shame if you couldn’t play state championship? Think about it. I can see it now…Galveston’s own star quarterback hit a fellow student in a parking lot, because he couldn’t keep his foot off of the accelerator. No college will want you after this.”
Beads of sweat drained from the Jock’s pores; he begged helplessly, “I can give you anything you want! Please! I’m-I’m sorry!”
Donnie folded his arms, his malicious grin fading from his expression, “I want you down on your knees. I want your wallet.”
With the two instructions given, the seventeen year old desperately parted from his leather billfold, filled with valued documents and currency, dropping to his knees.
Retrieving the wallet, Donnie met face to face with the quarterback, “And your fucking shoes!”
The school’s bully grew with confusion, “But… I need these for tomorrow’s game.”
“Why, Tony?” Donnie poked at the jock’s nose, “You’re ruining the spikes on your cleats anyways. You lost them.” He winked with a smirk.
Once the shoes were retrieved, Donnie then leaves the pitiful Tony in his own terror. “I hope you still have enough to cover for your precious steroids, Tony. You’ll need them.” The fifteen year old merrily called back.
“Okay, fine. But make sure you are back by dinner.” The father irritably responded to his son.
With the endorphins pumping heavily through his system, Donnie raced to his room, grabbing a separate backpack, shoving the cleats into the bag. He paused just for a moment in thought, before pulling two twelve ounce bottles of thick, syrupy crimson liquid to pack along as well.
Oops, what fun is art, without a paintbrush?
Making the final investigation on the wallet’s contents, he also tossed it into the bag of goodies. One final, brow raising item, so carefully selected, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
As the buses rolled into school on the next day, students filled the sidewalks at the gateway to the learning compound, to watch the fermenting disruption.
Inside the lot of the school, the picture perfect quarterback for Galveston’s high school had somehow hit almost every teacher’s car in the lot, before mounting his truck onto the Principal’s red Corvette. While the teachers aided Tony down from his lifted truck, a few of his fellow teammates cautiously footing around the crushed vehicle.
Much to the shock of everybody else, one of the players alerted the teachers, “Principal McMillan is still in his car! He’s bleeding badly!”
A few of the teachers rushed over to team, calling off the football players, “Please don’t move him!”
The hall monitor stepped out from the main entrance of the school, “I need all students inside for first period or everybody’s in for detention! This is a dire situation and we need to make room for emergency services to get here!”
On the entry point, behind the watchman; large red letters painted on the length and width, filling the blank space of both doors: Ice sucks ass!
Mutters of concerned students corrupted the edgy environment as the crowd slowly filled into the learning center, most at disbelief by the chaotic scene.
In the events leading up to this delicious disruption to a life, noting that the Principal was not part of the grand scheme, but the situation seemed to have gone much better than originally planned.
Chapter 2
Ice chuckles to himself, recalling to mind of just a couple of weeks ago:
“When I found out about Netty dating Tony, that motherfucker came at me with a blade in the bathroom. This was after fucking Tony found out that Netty had some insane obsession over me. I still don’t know what he fucking problem is. Possibly drugs? I don’t care to know. I could find out, if I wanted. But I don’t allow people to threaten me. They’re all just rabbits. I’m the fucking wolf. And now I’m drawing closer to killing my prey.”
“When Tony came at me with that blade, on that day. Something woke up. Possessed me. When he swung the sharp piece of junk at me, I allowed it to stab through my hand. I can take the pain. I shocked the jock as I removed the blade from my own hand. It was a decent sized blade, easily concealed in a pocket- actually, his pocket. The first string was cut. Five is the ideology I am trying to currently live by. Considering this is my first human prey.”
“The second string cut was all on me, allowing myself to let Tony hit me with his truck. When Netty started chasing me, just as predicted, I wanted out. It was lucky of myself to see Tony backing his truck out. I knew he was going to roll coal. I dreamed of every angle to get Tony to give me his wallet, so I could use his license in finding this fucker at his house. Blackmailing him seemed the right card to play.”
“Weeks of watching Tony like some peeping Tom, I discovered for myself on what kind of dark secrets this popular, picture perfect champion hid from the watchful eyes of the public. They say, another man’s trash is another’s treasure. I searched his family’s can for my progress, obtaining whiskey cans, specifically Jack Daniels. Needles that I have tested positive for steroids. Which explains his temperament and muscular system. I believed that I may know his weight to give the correct dosage. But my plan A failed. No worries, I have more where that came from.”
In the cover of darkness, shortly after Tony arrived home from a supply run, the seventeen year old had taken the groceries inside. The foolish teenager had left the truck’s motor running and the driver’s door wide open; such carelessness could lead to disastrous consequences.
With the contents of the truck exposed, Donnie eyed the first chance; sprinting closer to the unattended vehicle, briskly inspecting the inside. The open container of whiskey in the cup holder had drew the fifteen year old’s attention. A few more deductions were made; store bags no longer filled the passenger’s seat, the football star had yet to return, which meant he probably was aiding his parents on putting the products away.
Donnie pulled a vial from his pocket, which had been stolen from his chemistry class, carefully dripping a few drops into the opening of the can.
The doorway of Tony’s abode had opened, to the sound of his mother calling out, “Just make sure you are home by nine! It’s a school night!”
The fifteen year old then dove into the backseat of the cab, plugging his body closer to the floorboard.
A few minutes passed, before Tony finally grasped the can, sloshing the half empty can around; before chugging it down and discarding the can out into the street.
Donnie counted the minutes; mile by mile, the truck grew unsteady. The fluency of each turn conducted, now curbing the tires.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
It was on the fourth that Donnie shifted himself to sit up in the back seat, beholding at the sight of the Jock strenuously battling against the drunken slumber that called to him.
When the fifteen year old stared past the interior of the truck, the area they were nearing was the cemetery, four miles from school; which was the opposite of the chosen destination. The teenager grew irritated, digging through his bag for a bottle of Chloroform, pulling a rag.
“Goodnight!” Donnie chuckled as he cupped the soaked rag over Tony’s breathing orifices.
As the jock lost consciousness and control over the vehicle; the truck veered in the direction of the eternal resting place of where hundreds lay in peace.
Once the first above-ground headstone had been struck, Donnie had been tossed around in his mission to regain control over the truck. Confronting the will of velocity and projection, the mid-aged teenager regained stability over his own carcass, before placing both hands on the wheel.
He had seen his adopting parents do this a million times beforehand; Donnie scuffled to step onto the longer in width pedal, shifting the gear on the column upwards, all the while reconsolidating for the rollercoaster ride.
Then the demanding task of removing the hefty Quarterback into the rear seats; it was until after the chore was completed that the teenager had stepped out of the truck to behold the glory of destruction. Briefly taking a minute to inspect the damage of the truck; cackling to himself, he leapt back into the truck, burning out of the graveyard, speeding off towards his high school.
Now the game, set, match! It was after the students had been sent back inside the school, emergency had just arrived on site. Along came the pack of first responders; firemen rushing to the red corvette with their jaws of life, the medics and a few officers checking on Tony, while a few more had gone off to interview the teachers for the duration of their investigation.
However, one of the teachers had pointed to the truck; setting in motion for an officer to search the truck. Upon opening the driver’s door, showed only a few cans of whiskey tossed in the passenger’s seat. The officer then moved to the rear door, an avalanche of more Jack Daniel’s cans clanking to the asphalt, but the damning evidence from last night’s charade lie right in the cop’s face. A pair of muddy cleats perched on the rear seat.
Tony’s oculars grew wide as he seen the cans on the ground, rubbing his eyes as the officer questioning had paused to take note of the empty containers of alcohol were openly displayed.
“Were you drinking?” He eyed the Quarterback.
The football player scoffed, his words slurring, “N-No… I wasn’t.”
Though the officer, inspecting the contents of the truck had pulled the player’s shoes from the truck, nodding off to the other standing by their suspect, “Hey, Murrell, I think we found our cemetery vandal.”
Tony quietly sobbed, “None of this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t hit that kid in the parking lot.”
Officer Murrell grabbed the Quarterback by the shoulder, “Okay kid. It’s best you cooperate with us now. You’ve got a lot of hopping mad families wanting you shot. And you almost killed your own Principal over your drunken rampage. The judge might go easy on you, because you’re still technically a minor in our books. But you gotta confess now.”
Donnie had felt energy in his aura bubble, peering over his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, the hall monitor was leaning against the wall with his hand in a pocket and a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Well that’s a damn, crying shame.” He shook his head, before lighting the smoke.
A student burst into the class of language arts, “Tony’s getting arrested!”
The teacher sighed as he set his glasses on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh as his pupils rushed to the window.
All except for one student; Donnie’s sister, Robin. She attempted to gather her fellow learners, “Please reconsider yourselves-”
Netty began screaming out, “No! Not my precious Tony the tiger!!”
As the insane student then rushes towards the exit of the classroom, she is snagged by Robin.
“I beg of you to not interfere.” She objected to the erratic decision of the classmate.
Only to be met with a slap to the face, leaving Robin shaken.
The teacher groaned, “Where is the damn hall monitor when ya need’em?”
The hall monitor spoke, “I saw what happened in the parking lot yesterday. Why didn’t you report it?”
Donnie stood up, facing the school sentinel, “I felt like I could handle it like an adult. It didn’t hurt.”
“But you did report that Tony attempted to stab you in the bathroom.” He stated.
The fifteen year old shrugged, “Well that was different. Just school drama. I was the dumbass running through the parking lot. Something I shouldn’t have done.”
“You’re sister talks a lot about you. I get what it’s like to have family that don’t like who you’ve become.” The hall monitor sighed as he coaxed Donnie away from the chaotic scene, “I know you probably didn’t mean all of this to happen. But there’s nothing you can do to cure a school bully. Especially a cocky, drug filled asshole like fucking Tony.” Pulling his box of cancer sticks out, taking one from the box, he handed it to Donnie, “Name’s Rick, kid. I assume you’re the one they call Ice?”
As they rounded the backside of the school, Donnie looked towards the football field, seeing the ripped up grass from the night before. “You can call me Don.” He answered.
“Ice it is!” Rick cackled.
Donnie peered up at the man, raising a brow in thought.
The hall monitor ceased from further steps, staring the student down, “You going to light that cig, or am I going to do it for you?”
“I got it.” Don shouldered the idea, taking the lighter from his pocket. On that first pull of nicotine into his lungs, he listened to the man speak.
“I used to be in the marines. But I was dishonorably discharged. For fucking a prisoner in the ass. But times were tough.” Rick drew a short admission of guilt. “You’re tired kid. I can see it in your eyes.” Sighing as he continued his Sherlock debate, “It’s a shame that Tony kid ripped up the only career he had going for him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pulled that knife on you. Or hit you with that truck. Crazy how it all happened. It’s like the bottom card on a perfectly balanced stack. Take the bottom card out, it all comes crumbling down. Almost like it was planned or just exploded all in one night.”
Rick watched Ice closely, as the kid stared at the ground, “I haven’t been this excited for a few years now. I’m curious as to how the other students are going to treat Tony, when he comes back. It almost has me hard, thinking about if Tony is going to kill himself or not. Aren’t you? He’s never treated you well, Ice. That is what you are calling yourself right? How could anybody possibly know that’s your alias? Nobody calls you that in school.”
Donnie eyed the adult suspiciously, “You know?”
Rick clicked his lips, kneeling down, “Come on kid. You’re the smartest psychopath I know. It’s crazy to think about. Out of all the school shootings I’ve seen, you are the ideal student that would do it. Except they fuck up. They always do. You? You’re one of the more cautious I have yet to see. You play the victim, yet you whack off seeing gore. Drama. It’s like chaos kissed you passionately.” Yet he pointed out, “Though I highly advise you to not admit guilt when somebody is speaking to you in that fashion. It’s basic reverse psychology. But how could you know? You underestimated me for an idiot. You didn’t think I noticed you skipping class. But I did. Rule number one, don’t ever underestimate your target. Rule number two, don’t leave any evidence behind. Which you did a beautiful job at framing Tony. It turned out better than as expected, right?”
Donnie raised a brow in question, “Evidence? What did I leave behind?”
Rick smiled, “Motivation, son. The kind that would give you and your target a reason for revenge.” He tugged out a piece of Don’s shirt from the day before, gifting it to the student. “You and I are not so different.”
Grabbing the piece, he smelled the scent of it. A salty, peculiar scent. Yet he shrugged it off, “Okay… I’ll bite.”
Chapter 3
The long walk of shame, the halls of cheer that used to cry his name are now filled with somber serenity. A champion once surrounded by crowds with adoration avoided now like the black plague. To those brothers he held to, circumvented his hapless gaze. His once bright sunshine stolen away by the Prince of ice.
The silence of lambs in front, but at his back, they nipped like dogs.
“I heard he tore the football field up.”
“I heard he destroyed a cemetery.”
“I never thought he would use steroids.”
“I didn’t think steroids would make a person do that.”
“I heard he hit this Ice guy.”
“I heard…”
Tony bolts for his first period class, finding himself to be seated at the very front of the classroom; his own fellow classmates parted from him.
Papers toiled and crumpled, pens, pencils erasers, eventually tossed at the Quarterback.
Thirty minutes before the class had finished, the hall monitor gently knocked before entry, “Sorry to interrupt your class, miss Beverly, but the acting Principal wishes to speak with Tony.”
As the two made way towards the office of where McMillian once presided, Rick questioned, “I’m sorry for everything that happened. We all fall off of a cliff at some point in our lives. How are you holding up, Champ? It may look bad now, but all things will eventually come to an end. Who knows, maybe you might get back on your team again. During these times, it’s always good to have somebody to lean on.”
Tony ceased his slow steps behind the hall monitor, looking onto a specific locker. Decorated in happy sunshine stickers and rainbows. “Netty…” He mumbled longingly.
The seventeen year old’s zoning into the past times, was suddenly brought out by a shoulder check.
“Desecrator.” The face of one of his own league mates now face him as the classmate pushes the once champion to the lockers behind, “My grandma was buried in that cemetery!” He quietly scorned, “Didn’t you have any pride in our team? Any one of us would have done anything for you! Now I can’t even bare to look at you!” He leans in with a punch, slamming his fist into the lockers instead. “You aren’t even worth it.”
Rick turns, hearing the bang, “Leroy! You’re late to class! Stop torturing fucking Tony!” He gestures to the seventeen year old, “Come on kid. Let’s go. And please try to keep up this time.”
Strolling side by side, Rick set a palm on Tony’s shoulder, “Sometimes we have to just bite the bullet, kid. Just get it over with a flash.”
(OOC: There is still so much more to come. I hope some of you may find interest in my main series, of which I have been developing over the course of four-five years now. Thank you for getting to this point and taking the time to read!)
(OOC: Just testing waters, if you will. It is a sneak preview and hopefully to add my full arc and character development into one ginormous canon. I refuse to go into further detail, due to spoilers, though most of it is written in stone elsewhere. Just not with too much description on the backstories. Somberly; dull-fully a simple, yet broad perspective. The main and final canon will be extremely explicit on elusive details on what the characters look like in the future. For now, the main ones begin in school. So without further adue, this is partially one of several Arcs.)
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Chapter 1
"In the news today, Candice Leopold, former assailant to crime boss Rupert Thorne’s gang in Gotham City made headlines in the paper. After a brief shoot out, Candice was brought into custody at a junkyard in the small town of Brule, located in Nebraska. Five of the men that were accomplices to the gang, perished in the incident, along with one of our very own discharged Rangers. On route to the trials, Candice’s chargers were dropped by the State Representative, Joseph Kringle. Meanwhile, in other news, there has been a nationwide man hunt for Rupert Thorne, after his escape from Blackgate penitentiary."
“What are you watching that junk for, son?” The man spoke, turning off the television.
In the small island city of Galveston, stood a two story, town home that had been built in the 1900’s. A family of four lived in this abode. Two parents and their children.
“I was watching that, dad. The teacher told us to write a paper about gangs and what effect they can have on the American economy.” The scrawny fifteen year old whimpered.
“Steven Walker was our neighbor for years… some of the stories he told me, would surprise you. You should be interviewing me, not getting your information from the rightest media.” The father sat in his lazy boy chair, “See the problem with the rightest media is…” He paused, watching his son simply take a stand and beginning to walk away, “Where are you going?”
Upstairs in the bedrooms, the son escaped to his sister’s bedroom. Pretty in pink, the bedroom filled with all sorts of stuff animals, a shelf full of fictional and instructive books. And closest to the window was a computer. At the desktop, sat a young girl, ripe age of thirteen years, who still has yet to hit puberty.
On the lit screen was content that should have been only for adults. The room door slammed shut, jolting the young girl to quickly close the internet windows down. Squeaking in shame, “Donnie. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I thought you were working on our homework.” Donnie spoke as he stepped closer to his sister, “Robin, I didn’t know you were such a little sexual monster.” He drew with a coy grin.
She had not moved, nor turned to face the attitude of her older brother; instead, she hung her head low. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll work on our homework.” She twisted, still not able to make eye contact with Donnie.
Only for Robin’s throat to be caught by the hand of her own brother, shoving her back into the chair, Donnie’s tone grew deeper, “You’ll do my homework first! Or do I need to sic your own dog on you again?”
Gasping to this, she shook her head, “N-No… not that again. Anything but that!”
The fifteen year old raised his brow, “Would you prefer something a little more… smaller?” He chuckled coldly, tugging at his package.
Robin shied away from the sight, “You know how I feel about that. It’s not right. We are simply just siblings. You should have the upmost care for me and our parent’s wishes.”
His mood settled, releasing the grip on his sister’s neck, caressing her cheek, “They’re your parents. You are their grade A student. Hell, they’re trying to send you to college. I’m just a stranger they brought into this house. I mean fuck, you’re smart. Figure it the fuck out. I was never born into this family and I’ll never be adopted.” Seizing her chin to yank the attention back to himself, “But you? You’ve always treated me with kindness. I do truly love you.” He sighed with anguish, “Unfortunately, I just have some mental disabilities. I’m sorry, two.”
After a moment of silence, Robin finally spoke, “It’s okay. I forgive you. If you want, I could…”
Donnie extracted himself, pulling back from Robin, “No. It’s fine. But if you can send me that link from the dark web, I can find it in my black heart to forgive you.” Snickering as he made an exit, “Normal people get so hot and bothered over the littlest things. It would be out of a human’s nature to have any sort of self pleasure.”
The mother had walked out of the kitchen, pausing on the preparations of a stew, to speak with her husband, “Dear, he’s almost a grown man. He doesn’t need you telling him wild stories. And if it’s for a paper he’s writing, well that’s good. At least he’s doing his homework. I just want him to get above those D grades that he has.”
“Well, he’s great in science; he does have a B minus. And he’s almost unstoppable in debate club. So far, he hasn’t lost an argument in debate yet. Even in a single debate about one of the three state representatives of Nebraska. Joseph Kringle? That guy is a genius! Unfortunately his teachers have their heads too far stuck up their asses.” The father sighed, kicking up the leg rest on his chair, “It’s just shameful that he can’t be smarter than his sister in any other of the classes.”
Smiling to her spouse’s excitement, “Well, maybe you two should watch the livestream together.”
The father shot out of his chair, “That’s right! I forgot he was doing a speech at four thirty!” Checking the time on his watch, he then scurried for the remote, turning the television onto the live feed of the politician’s address to the state of Nebraska. To which, he called out for his son, “Hey Don! Come here! Joseph Kringle is on!”
Donnie ceased in the hallway, clenching his fists, “Fuck! Blue balled again…” He muttered, before shifting his course to the stairway.
“For the state of Nebraska, I must address this terrible mishap of some sort of attack. But I assure all of my people that Candice Leopold did not instigate her protective service members to attack nor kill those affected.” Joseph announced, “I had no idea something of this manner would occur, a week before my bill passed. But without it, an innocent woman would be rotting in jail as I speak, for a crime that she did not commit.” Clearing his throat as the politician tightened his tie, “Now then, I am looking into secondary murder charges placed upon the Thorne family, living in Brule. It is unfortunate that Candice should have alerted the authorities that she was being threatened by that family. But here is the thing, I will not speak of any names, one of the family members were the first to draw a weapon, provoking a shootout. Candice briefly told me about her history with the underground Thorne organization, from Gotham. But now it seems as if the corruption has spread to our beautiful state. We are disheartened that Jay Walker was once a Texas Ranger, a hero to all in the state of Texas, but he broke his oath. By joining the Thorne gang. We are saddened to learn that even a lawman can fall into the temptations of greed and chaos!” Joseph slammed his fist down on the podium, “And I will not stand for Chaos to rein in our great state! I plan to be introducing thirty seven new bills to prevent organized crime within the next three years, before my second term is up!”
The father sighed as he muted the television, “Ah well… there goes my liking for Jay. Such a shame.”
Donnie shrugged his arms, “Well, things happen. I’m glad I didn’t have to know that Jay dude. Um… dad, is it fine with you if I go hang out with my friends tonight?”
The father peered at his son, raising a brow, “Did you finish your homework?”
Yet the mother chimed in, “Oh honey, the chances of him finishing his homework are slim, especially after you turned off that newscast he was trying to watch. And even if he didn’t do it, you know he’s just going to sneak out anyways. It is better that he’s social, unlike his hermit of a sister.”
The ring of the school bell chimed, announcing to the high schoolers that a lunch break was ensuing. With students rushing out of their classes, most heading off to the lunchroom, the nerds off to the library and computer lab and the rest divided to the outside world, within the compound of the school grounds.
Donnie found comfort on the shaded side of the school, sitting in the grass, hugging his back against the wall; chowing down on some chips. The school’s healthy deemed lunches were mere pieces of cardboard that only appeared as appetizing consumption substances.
His aura caught onto a single female, leading her rat pack of imbeciles. The girl stood nearby, speaking softly, “You are always alone. Maybe I can cheer you up with something. Do you mind if I sit?”
“Netty.” He groaned, strenuously getting up from his spot, “The day you sit, is the day I put a choke collar around that pretty little neck of yours.”
“Ooh… did he just indirectly call you a bitch?” One of the clique members pointed out.
Donnie smirked, “That’s the term of a female dog, isn’t it? Or were you not paying attention in your own biology class?”
The leader of the packrats, held a shell shocked expression, “But we’re in the same class!”
As Donnie sauntered off, another fellow student within the group sighed, “Netty, when are you going to get that he doesn’t like you? I mean he’s as cold as Ice.”
Though this seemingly stalker, Netty held a new dumbfounded look for a moment, “But… but… He’s my prince of ice! Why are you willing to sacrifice our love!”
Not even gifting the sweet pleasure to such an estranged girl, Ice commented, “Why don’t you scurry off to the library or… like fuck, even the dark web, maybe there you can actually find a mate worth your species.”
The chick stargazed for a moment, envisioning a filter of hearts and sparkles around her target, before flinging herself into motion towards him, “Tell me more daddy! Tell me how I’m a bad bitch!”
“Fuck these crazy bitches…” Donnie grumbled to himself, before picking up a quickened pace. He bounded into the parking lot, rounding vehicles, before a large black object stops him in his tracks.
Everything seemed to flash by in seconds; the sight of a lifted truck’s tire, before he is hit by the vehicle. The sounds of a spine cracking as a single tire rolled over his back. Immediately the truck rolls to a roaring halt, just before a second tire could roll over the fifteen year old.
The driver of the vehicle, a seventeen year old, the star quarterback for Galveston’s school had flew out of the enlarged truck, “Dude! I’m sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t be running through the parking lot like a dumbass! Didn’t your mother ever teach you-” He paused in petrified silence as he peeked underneath the big diesel. The boy who had apparently got hit had seemed to have vanished.
“Fucking Tony.” A harsh voice responded behind the jock, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to be speeding through parking lots like a little dick driver?”
The jock snapped his attention towards the voice, his blood ran cold as the hairs on his arms stood on end, “Oh… oh fuuck… It’s- It’s you… ” He drew with disbelief, “How did you-?”
There, Donnie stood with only a tattered shirt, a grin stretching from ear to ear, licking his lips in the satisfactory of horror in it’s purest form. And it was not even Halloween yet. “Such a shame. Galveston’s own muscular school bully. Frightened of a little twig like me? Isn’t that what you call other students?”
“No-Now… take it easy… I didn’t mean to.” He backed against his truck. Tony’s heart , listening to the female students calling out for Donnie.
Donnie held his smirk as he inched closer, “Hear that? They are looking for me.” He chuckled coldly, “Wouldn’t it be a shame if you couldn’t play state championship? Think about it. I can see it now…Galveston’s own star quarterback hit a fellow student in a parking lot, because he couldn’t keep his foot off of the accelerator. No college will want you after this.”
Beads of sweat drained from the Jock’s pores; he begged helplessly, “I can give you anything you want! Please! I’m-I’m sorry!”
Donnie folded his arms, his malicious grin fading from his expression, “I want you down on your knees. I want your wallet.”
With the two instructions given, the seventeen year old desperately parted from his leather billfold, filled with valued documents and currency, dropping to his knees.
Retrieving the wallet, Donnie met face to face with the quarterback, “And your fucking shoes!”
The school’s bully grew with confusion, “But… I need these for tomorrow’s game.”
“Why, Tony?” Donnie poked at the jock’s nose, “You’re ruining the spikes on your cleats anyways. You lost them.” He winked with a smirk.
Once the shoes were retrieved, Donnie then leaves the pitiful Tony in his own terror. “I hope you still have enough to cover for your precious steroids, Tony. You’ll need them.” The fifteen year old merrily called back.
“Okay, fine. But make sure you are back by dinner.” The father irritably responded to his son.
With the endorphins pumping heavily through his system, Donnie raced to his room, grabbing a separate backpack, shoving the cleats into the bag. He paused just for a moment in thought, before pulling two twelve ounce bottles of thick, syrupy crimson liquid to pack along as well.
Oops, what fun is art, without a paintbrush?
Making the final investigation on the wallet’s contents, he also tossed it into the bag of goodies. One final, brow raising item, so carefully selected, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
As the buses rolled into school on the next day, students filled the sidewalks at the gateway to the learning compound, to watch the fermenting disruption.
Inside the lot of the school, the picture perfect quarterback for Galveston’s high school had somehow hit almost every teacher’s car in the lot, before mounting his truck onto the Principal’s red Corvette. While the teachers aided Tony down from his lifted truck, a few of his fellow teammates cautiously footing around the crushed vehicle.
Much to the shock of everybody else, one of the players alerted the teachers, “Principal McMillan is still in his car! He’s bleeding badly!”
A few of the teachers rushed over to team, calling off the football players, “Please don’t move him!”
The hall monitor stepped out from the main entrance of the school, “I need all students inside for first period or everybody’s in for detention! This is a dire situation and we need to make room for emergency services to get here!”
On the entry point, behind the watchman; large red letters painted on the length and width, filling the blank space of both doors: Ice sucks ass!
Mutters of concerned students corrupted the edgy environment as the crowd slowly filled into the learning center, most at disbelief by the chaotic scene.
In the events leading up to this delicious disruption to a life, noting that the Principal was not part of the grand scheme, but the situation seemed to have gone much better than originally planned.
Chapter 2
Ice chuckles to himself, recalling to mind of just a couple of weeks ago:
“When I found out about Netty dating Tony, that motherfucker came at me with a blade in the bathroom. This was after fucking Tony found out that Netty had some insane obsession over me. I still don’t know what he fucking problem is. Possibly drugs? I don’t care to know. I could find out, if I wanted. But I don’t allow people to threaten me. They’re all just rabbits. I’m the fucking wolf. And now I’m drawing closer to killing my prey.”
“When Tony came at me with that blade, on that day. Something woke up. Possessed me. When he swung the sharp piece of junk at me, I allowed it to stab through my hand. I can take the pain. I shocked the jock as I removed the blade from my own hand. It was a decent sized blade, easily concealed in a pocket- actually, his pocket. The first string was cut. Five is the ideology I am trying to currently live by. Considering this is my first human prey.”
“The second string cut was all on me, allowing myself to let Tony hit me with his truck. When Netty started chasing me, just as predicted, I wanted out. It was lucky of myself to see Tony backing his truck out. I knew he was going to roll coal. I dreamed of every angle to get Tony to give me his wallet, so I could use his license in finding this fucker at his house. Blackmailing him seemed the right card to play.”
“Weeks of watching Tony like some peeping Tom, I discovered for myself on what kind of dark secrets this popular, picture perfect champion hid from the watchful eyes of the public. They say, another man’s trash is another’s treasure. I searched his family’s can for my progress, obtaining whiskey cans, specifically Jack Daniels. Needles that I have tested positive for steroids. Which explains his temperament and muscular system. I believed that I may know his weight to give the correct dosage. But my plan A failed. No worries, I have more where that came from.”
In the cover of darkness, shortly after Tony arrived home from a supply run, the seventeen year old had taken the groceries inside. The foolish teenager had left the truck’s motor running and the driver’s door wide open; such carelessness could lead to disastrous consequences.
With the contents of the truck exposed, Donnie eyed the first chance; sprinting closer to the unattended vehicle, briskly inspecting the inside. The open container of whiskey in the cup holder had drew the fifteen year old’s attention. A few more deductions were made; store bags no longer filled the passenger’s seat, the football star had yet to return, which meant he probably was aiding his parents on putting the products away.
Donnie pulled a vial from his pocket, which had been stolen from his chemistry class, carefully dripping a few drops into the opening of the can.
The doorway of Tony’s abode had opened, to the sound of his mother calling out, “Just make sure you are home by nine! It’s a school night!”
The fifteen year old then dove into the backseat of the cab, plugging his body closer to the floorboard.
A few minutes passed, before Tony finally grasped the can, sloshing the half empty can around; before chugging it down and discarding the can out into the street.
Donnie counted the minutes; mile by mile, the truck grew unsteady. The fluency of each turn conducted, now curbing the tires.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
It was on the fourth that Donnie shifted himself to sit up in the back seat, beholding at the sight of the Jock strenuously battling against the drunken slumber that called to him.
When the fifteen year old stared past the interior of the truck, the area they were nearing was the cemetery, four miles from school; which was the opposite of the chosen destination. The teenager grew irritated, digging through his bag for a bottle of Chloroform, pulling a rag.
“Goodnight!” Donnie chuckled as he cupped the soaked rag over Tony’s breathing orifices.
As the jock lost consciousness and control over the vehicle; the truck veered in the direction of the eternal resting place of where hundreds lay in peace.
Once the first above-ground headstone had been struck, Donnie had been tossed around in his mission to regain control over the truck. Confronting the will of velocity and projection, the mid-aged teenager regained stability over his own carcass, before placing both hands on the wheel.
He had seen his adopting parents do this a million times beforehand; Donnie scuffled to step onto the longer in width pedal, shifting the gear on the column upwards, all the while reconsolidating for the rollercoaster ride.
Then the demanding task of removing the hefty Quarterback into the rear seats; it was until after the chore was completed that the teenager had stepped out of the truck to behold the glory of destruction. Briefly taking a minute to inspect the damage of the truck; cackling to himself, he leapt back into the truck, burning out of the graveyard, speeding off towards his high school.
Now the game, set, match! It was after the students had been sent back inside the school, emergency had just arrived on site. Along came the pack of first responders; firemen rushing to the red corvette with their jaws of life, the medics and a few officers checking on Tony, while a few more had gone off to interview the teachers for the duration of their investigation.
However, one of the teachers had pointed to the truck; setting in motion for an officer to search the truck. Upon opening the driver’s door, showed only a few cans of whiskey tossed in the passenger’s seat. The officer then moved to the rear door, an avalanche of more Jack Daniel’s cans clanking to the asphalt, but the damning evidence from last night’s charade lie right in the cop’s face. A pair of muddy cleats perched on the rear seat.
Tony’s oculars grew wide as he seen the cans on the ground, rubbing his eyes as the officer questioning had paused to take note of the empty containers of alcohol were openly displayed.
“Were you drinking?” He eyed the Quarterback.
The football player scoffed, his words slurring, “N-No… I wasn’t.”
Though the officer, inspecting the contents of the truck had pulled the player’s shoes from the truck, nodding off to the other standing by their suspect, “Hey, Murrell, I think we found our cemetery vandal.”
Tony quietly sobbed, “None of this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t hit that kid in the parking lot.”
Officer Murrell grabbed the Quarterback by the shoulder, “Okay kid. It’s best you cooperate with us now. You’ve got a lot of hopping mad families wanting you shot. And you almost killed your own Principal over your drunken rampage. The judge might go easy on you, because you’re still technically a minor in our books. But you gotta confess now.”
Donnie had felt energy in his aura bubble, peering over his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, the hall monitor was leaning against the wall with his hand in a pocket and a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Well that’s a damn, crying shame.” He shook his head, before lighting the smoke.
A student burst into the class of language arts, “Tony’s getting arrested!”
The teacher sighed as he set his glasses on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh as his pupils rushed to the window.
All except for one student; Donnie’s sister, Robin. She attempted to gather her fellow learners, “Please reconsider yourselves-”
Netty began screaming out, “No! Not my precious Tony the tiger!!”
As the insane student then rushes towards the exit of the classroom, she is snagged by Robin.
“I beg of you to not interfere.” She objected to the erratic decision of the classmate.
Only to be met with a slap to the face, leaving Robin shaken.
The teacher groaned, “Where is the damn hall monitor when ya need’em?”
The hall monitor spoke, “I saw what happened in the parking lot yesterday. Why didn’t you report it?”
Donnie stood up, facing the school sentinel, “I felt like I could handle it like an adult. It didn’t hurt.”
“But you did report that Tony attempted to stab you in the bathroom.” He stated.
The fifteen year old shrugged, “Well that was different. Just school drama. I was the dumbass running through the parking lot. Something I shouldn’t have done.”
“You’re sister talks a lot about you. I get what it’s like to have family that don’t like who you’ve become.” The hall monitor sighed as he coaxed Donnie away from the chaotic scene, “I know you probably didn’t mean all of this to happen. But there’s nothing you can do to cure a school bully. Especially a cocky, drug filled asshole like fucking Tony.” Pulling his box of cancer sticks out, taking one from the box, he handed it to Donnie, “Name’s Rick, kid. I assume you’re the one they call Ice?”
As they rounded the backside of the school, Donnie looked towards the football field, seeing the ripped up grass from the night before. “You can call me Don.” He answered.
“Ice it is!” Rick cackled.
Donnie peered up at the man, raising a brow in thought.
The hall monitor ceased from further steps, staring the student down, “You going to light that cig, or am I going to do it for you?”
“I got it.” Don shouldered the idea, taking the lighter from his pocket. On that first pull of nicotine into his lungs, he listened to the man speak.
“I used to be in the marines. But I was dishonorably discharged. For fucking a prisoner in the ass. But times were tough.” Rick drew a short admission of guilt. “You’re tired kid. I can see it in your eyes.” Sighing as he continued his Sherlock debate, “It’s a shame that Tony kid ripped up the only career he had going for him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pulled that knife on you. Or hit you with that truck. Crazy how it all happened. It’s like the bottom card on a perfectly balanced stack. Take the bottom card out, it all comes crumbling down. Almost like it was planned or just exploded all in one night.”
Rick watched Ice closely, as the kid stared at the ground, “I haven’t been this excited for a few years now. I’m curious as to how the other students are going to treat Tony, when he comes back. It almost has me hard, thinking about if Tony is going to kill himself or not. Aren’t you? He’s never treated you well, Ice. That is what you are calling yourself right? How could anybody possibly know that’s your alias? Nobody calls you that in school.”
Donnie eyed the adult suspiciously, “You know?”
Rick clicked his lips, kneeling down, “Come on kid. You’re the smartest psychopath I know. It’s crazy to think about. Out of all the school shootings I’ve seen, you are the ideal student that would do it. Except they fuck up. They always do. You? You’re one of the more cautious I have yet to see. You play the victim, yet you whack off seeing gore. Drama. It’s like chaos kissed you passionately.” Yet he pointed out, “Though I highly advise you to not admit guilt when somebody is speaking to you in that fashion. It’s basic reverse psychology. But how could you know? You underestimated me for an idiot. You didn’t think I noticed you skipping class. But I did. Rule number one, don’t ever underestimate your target. Rule number two, don’t leave any evidence behind. Which you did a beautiful job at framing Tony. It turned out better than as expected, right?”
Donnie raised a brow in question, “Evidence? What did I leave behind?”
Rick smiled, “Motivation, son. The kind that would give you and your target a reason for revenge.” He tugged out a piece of Don’s shirt from the day before, gifting it to the student. “You and I are not so different.”
Grabbing the piece, he smelled the scent of it. A salty, peculiar scent. Yet he shrugged it off, “Okay… I’ll bite.”
Chapter 3
The long walk of shame, the halls of cheer that used to cry his name are now filled with somber serenity. A champion once surrounded by crowds with adoration avoided now like the black plague. To those brothers he held to, circumvented his hapless gaze. His once bright sunshine stolen away by the Prince of ice.
The silence of lambs in front, but at his back, they nipped like dogs.
“I heard he tore the football field up.”
“I heard he destroyed a cemetery.”
“I never thought he would use steroids.”
“I didn’t think steroids would make a person do that.”
“I heard he hit this Ice guy.”
“I heard…”
Tony bolts for his first period class, finding himself to be seated at the very front of the classroom; his own fellow classmates parted from him.
Papers toiled and crumpled, pens, pencils erasers, eventually tossed at the Quarterback.
Thirty minutes before the class had finished, the hall monitor gently knocked before entry, “Sorry to interrupt your class, miss Beverly, but the acting Principal wishes to speak with Tony.”
As the two made way towards the office of where McMillian once presided, Rick questioned, “I’m sorry for everything that happened. We all fall off of a cliff at some point in our lives. How are you holding up, Champ? It may look bad now, but all things will eventually come to an end. Who knows, maybe you might get back on your team again. During these times, it’s always good to have somebody to lean on.”
Tony ceased his slow steps behind the hall monitor, looking onto a specific locker. Decorated in happy sunshine stickers and rainbows. “Netty…” He mumbled longingly.
The seventeen year old’s zoning into the past times, was suddenly brought out by a shoulder check.
“Desecrator.” The face of one of his own league mates now face him as the classmate pushes the once champion to the lockers behind, “My grandma was buried in that cemetery!” He quietly scorned, “Didn’t you have any pride in our team? Any one of us would have done anything for you! Now I can’t even bare to look at you!” He leans in with a punch, slamming his fist into the lockers instead. “You aren’t even worth it.”
Rick turns, hearing the bang, “Leroy! You’re late to class! Stop torturing fucking Tony!” He gestures to the seventeen year old, “Come on kid. Let’s go. And please try to keep up this time.”
Strolling side by side, Rick set a palm on Tony’s shoulder, “Sometimes we have to just bite the bullet, kid. Just get it over with a flash.”
(OOC: There is still so much more to come. I hope some of you may find interest in my main series, of which I have been developing over the course of four-five years now. Thank you for getting to this point and taking the time to read!)
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