Thomas was shoved to his knees right in the one spot of the room where the light cut through, the brightness half-blinding him. All he could see clearly was the locks of his own reddish hair that had fallen into his face and the blood running down his nose, with only the vague silhouette of that prick Jamesson mere steps away. Wouldn’t have mattered if he could see him, though. The sense most blaring and alert was his sense of touch, which was hyper-focused on the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head,
“Fuck you, Ezrael, just fuck you. Go ahead and shoot me already, bastard, you know I got nothing to give.”
“There’s no need for that kind of language, dear boy,” Ezrael said, tone almost a rumbling purr. “You failed one of the most important lessons I tried to teach you in coming here, and I can’t be faulted for that, now, can I? One needs bread to live.”
“Yeah, actually, you can.” Thomas closed his eyes, took in a shuddering, painful breath. “You knew I’d be here, you made sure I’d have no choice, so if you’re going to be a deceitful bloody coward I’d at least expect you to be honest about it during my final fucking moments.”
“Please, kid, you can’t expect the truth out of a double-agent,” Jamesson interjected, tone smug and self-satisfied. “All the good ones build such a big tower of ‘em they barely remember where the truth ends and the lies begin, it’s on you if—”
“You can shut up, asshole, I already know you’re just doing grunt work and don’t know shit.”
The violent kick to his stomach was entirely expected, but Tom felt what was likely his last sense of victory the moment it connected. He’d hit a nerve. So his investigations were right on that point at least. Jamesson really was just a mouthpiece, a jumped-up decoy throwing his weight around like he had any actual power. A fine bloody shame there’d be no chance at the actual boss, but Ezrael, fucking Ezrael, the mentor he’d let himself actually care about, was a deceptive immoral prick. Thomas wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, he wanted to yell and fight and punch Ez so hard in the face he’d bleed fountains and then keeping doing it, but it didn’t matter, ‘cause it was time to die, and there was little to do but accept it.
There'd be other agents sent in soon enough to fix the mess. Fuck. Why wouldn’t his body stop shaking?
“And there’s no need for that, Jamesson.” Ezrael sounded… amused, yeah, but a little odd with it. “I’m sure our mutual benefactor would like to know you’re not overstepping his boundaries and getting ideas above your station?”
“Mutual benefactor, huh,” Thomas said with a snarl. “I hope he pays you well enough to make you forget how much of a gutless prick you are, Ez. Wonder how many other juniors you’ve sent to their deaths telling yourself you had no choice, it’s just how it is, it’s not your fault, so you can keep getting that fucking ‘bread?’ I cannot believe I ever admired anything about you…”
The gun at the back of his head pressed into Tom’s skull a little harder.
“One can only admire the courage of the fool who talks so colourfully to the one with his life in his hands.” Ezrael’s voice had gone quiet and soft. “My darling student… I don’t think you paid much attention to my lessons at all.”
“Actually, I did,” Tom muttered, deflating, body dropping closer to the floor. “Lying to yourself again, huh? Every time you fucking clapped and howled and cheered when I mouthed off, every time you spoke about my ‘moxie,’ that was a teaching moment… ugh, forget it. Could you just finally fucking kill me, please? I’m tired of this shit.”
“Yeah, Ezrael, get the fuck on with it.” Jamesson sounded furious, still overloaded on his anger and murderous with it. “Shoot the fucking pretty-boy so we can get on with burning this place down. I want it so hot his corpse is nothing but ash.”
There was a long, drawn-out silence following that. Thomas expected it was just an extra bit of torture, more time to anticipate his death, and braced himself. The gun pressed harder against him, coldness strong enough to bruise… and then it was gone. Before he could even process the lack of threat the gun was finally shot and it was Jamesson who screamed in sheer agony; Thomas raised his head and shifted just enough to see Ezrael leaping on the man and shoving him fully to the floor. He didn’t see the knife, but he didn’t need to. That gurgling sound was all too familiar.
It went quiet again.
Ez lingered on top of his victim for a good minute, wordless, before turning and standing. He’d made a very messy job of his kill; blood-spray had hit his face and was now dripping from his half-coated lip. Thomas stared at him with wide, confused eyes, barely able to process while the adrenalin thundered through his system. He’d expected to die. He hadn’t, and now… now…
“You were right, you know.” Ezrael sounded strangely serene. “Especially the ‘coward’ part. No time to dwell on it now, though, Tommy-boy. Before we go and put this mess to bed… there’s one more important lesson Uncle Ez needs to give you.”
Thomas spat the blood from his mouth before slowly drawing himself upright. His body ached and bruised, many unfortunate things were cracked and the long-term, provided he had it, was going to be rough. Nothing was enough to fuck him over entirely (yet) though. He took the gun that Ezrael pushed insistently into his hands and checked it over almost by rote as his companion tore through the room alternating between grabbing gear and splashing around the oily contents of a jerrycan; moments before the now-dead asshole on the floor had talked about setting it aflame with Tom’s own body within, leaving his mortal remains to turn kindling in the blaze. Clearly that was still on the cards, just with a very different corpse at the heart of things.
Tom snatched his laden belt before his supposed mentor could pick it up and holstered his gun himself, then proceeded to go through each and every thing on it as he stared over.
“A lesson in who not to trust?”
He sounded bitter, he sounded angry, he sounded shaken and hurt, and the look Ezrael gave him offered no blame for that. The expression in full was sort of hard to read; resigned, maybe, though there was still a smile painted on there beneath the crimson stains the throat-slitting had ‘spat’ onto his face.
“I believe we’ve covered that one well enough, hm?” Ezrael drew to a stop in front of Tom and raised an arm to tap Tom’s forehead with a bloodied finger. “No… this one’s far more important, and as someone who’s just signed his own death warrant I am beautifully placed to give it. Be a sweet kid and listen.”
The serious, pointed tone of voice his mentor had adopted was stronger than Thomas had ever heard. After everything that had gone down he still didn’t feel he could trust anything he was told from this particular source but it was enough to make him stop and give the guy his full attention for a moment. The death warrant part was, after all, true. Both sides of the double-play were now going to have a certain face at the top of their hit-lists and there was exactly nothing that could ever change that fact.
“Value your life,” Ez said. “Risk it if you must, live on the edge, yes, but don’t just throw it away without cause. And especially don’t do it for them. You’re just a number to them, a tool, and they can and do expect you to die at any moment. Don’t fucking do it. Fight tooth and nail for it, take knife and gun and survive. You’re the only person you can fully depend on to save yourself, Thomas.
“You’re saying that when you acted the same as they do all this fucking time?”
“…yes. Sadly you have a way of wearing on people, don’t you?” Ezrael wiped at the blood on his own lip, accomplishing nothing but smearing it further across his chin. “Something too sincere and good-hearted to play the great game, and yet! Yet! They’ve molded you into something so much more dangerous than even they understand, and because of that, I simply can’t allow you to die. The chaos you could unleash on some very bad people, that you’ve already unleashed on this one right here, why, it’s worthy of a song! I’d play it for you, but the ending of this tale is approaching far too fast for that to be possible.”
They stared at one another for long one moment before Tom’s expression softened just a fraction, which was apparently enough for Ez, who clapped his hands together and smiled a little wider and a lot more wickedly. This was more like his familiar.
“Now, let’s finish pouring the oil and set the bonfire alight. It’s time for some real fun.”