Chapter 26: Blinding Lights.

  “Such impossible bliss!”

  August 29th, 1991.

  The radio read 4:20 PM.

  Right before the car broke down.

  Sounding like the engine blew itself.

  Garvin got out, checking the state of the car.

  Opening the hood of the car with a loud clank, the car began to emit smoke.

  Silently panicking that it may explode, not able to know car issues due to his lack of knowledge.

  Spreading all around as Garvin quickly got the boys out and into his shop, saying.

  “Boys, get out. Now.”

  Their combined footsteps made louder thumping than Link II's own.

  Eventually arriving at the shop and closing the door behind them.

  As Garvin spoke.

  “Link? You think you can do that summon money shit?

  Need a new ride, kid.

  I'm sorry, but we need to use you for a moment.

  If you can't summon a car, just money will do.”

  He nodded, focusing as his hand moved into the air.

  The humming of his abilities barely heard in the air of the shop.

  Which was already filled with the sound of air conditioning.

  His nose slightly bled from the use, feeling exhausted from glitching out from earlier.

  Forcing himself to do the job.

  Clenching his jaw.

  Abruptly, the money arrived in a box.

  Holding at least $100,000

  Swiftly, Garvin interrupted Link II, saying.

  “Kid… stop!

  You look tired as hell.

  I thank you for getting me the money, but you shouldn't force yourself to do the magic shit anyways.

  Especially if you look like you're about to pass out.”

  Garvin reached out towards Link II, trying to help his form.

  But Link II didn't like being touched by anybody, yet.

  Nodding back to Garvin as he walked to the couch.

  As Garvin spoke.

  “Kid, either you let me help you or you can bitch out and let yourself suffer.”

  Immediately letting Garvin help from his tone of authority.

  Limping over like he broke a leg.

  And crashing onto the couch, passing out.

  Slowly passing out.

  Eyes drifting into slumber.

  …

  Right after, Garvin checked the amount, numbering the stacks quickly.

  During his count, DB and Dave went to their rooms.

  Doing their own things alone.

  Moments later, Link II was awoken by Dave.

  Garvin and DB seemingly elsewhere as he spoke.

  “Hey kid, I got a present for you.

  It's nearby if you want it.

  Just wait for it in an alleyway right next to the shop, okay?

  I'll have my guys get it for you and leave it there.”

  Link II nodded, agreeing to the idea of receiving a gift.

  Even if it was dangerous, he wanted to have the supposed gift.

  Teleporting without a sound into the supposed alleyway.

  His feet tapped against the broken concrete of the streets as he arrived.

  Waiting for the eventual reward for waiting.

  Seeing only a dead end.

  Trash cans near the end.

  Alongside the occasional cat rustling underneath the trash like a blanket.

  Waiting impatiently, wanting to leave at first.

  But there was something tempting about waiting for the supposed gift.

  Peering into the alleyway, he found a teddy bear.

  Brand new.

  Assuming somebody dropped it from the apartments above him.

  Link II never really had any toys growing up.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Having only a small few, but were mostly broken by Samuel and his drugged rage.

  Yet this one teddy bear he wanted to keep for himself.

  Childlike excitement for a toy ruling over any thought process that Link II had.

  Grabbing it, Link II felt a sense of comfort from the fuzzy toy.

  Smiling gleefully, hugging it close to him like a pet dog.

  …right as he heard the sound of rifles and shotguns loading.

  Eyes widened from the sound of guns.

  PTSD flaring like a bonfire.

  Hands trembling as he dropped the toy into the dirty, wet puddle below him.

  While one man aimed his shotgun at Link II, directly at the forehead.

  Holding back against pulling the trigger due to his own morals.

  The other gang members looked distraught at having to kill a child.

  Hiding their morals behind their ego.

  “Yo’. the fuck you waiting for? We ain't got much time left. Shoot the fucking kid now.”

  One of them stated.

  The man kept his aim on Link II.

  Not able to find the guts to shoot a child in his face.

  Holding back tears of regret.

  “Didn't you talk to Dave about the job? Convince him not to kill the kid?”

  The gangbanger asked, shaken by the immoral job that stood unanswered.

  “Oh shut up Mike! We need the money from this fuckin’ job, imagine what we could do with the money, we could get out of debt!

  We could finally pursue a valid career instead of killing!”

  Soon after, they all argued like flies to moldy food.

  Even if it was insanely messed up to consider the latter option.

  While Link II stood, frozen in fear.

  Wanting to either teleport away or kill the gangsters that would do the same.

  Additionally wanting to keep his teddy bear he had just received in the alleyway safe.

  Eventually, one overweight gangbanger decided to do what all of them were hired to do.

  Punching him with the strength of hatred.

  Pushing Link II into the piles of trash.

  His nose and face were bleeding from the impact of it.

  Almost knocking him out cold and providing the execution of himself.

  As they all gasped, genuinely fearing for the kid's life.

  Their animalistic pride got to them.

  Pretending it was a good thing to hurt a boy.

  Each one throwing a fist of pride into the air.

  Believing they did a good enough job in killing him.

  Or at least they thought.

  Slowly getting up, as if he never got injured at all.

  Nose bleeding, broken from its force.

  His head had a scrape from the sharp trash cans below him.

  Standing up, he forced his nose back into position, making a loud creek sound from the bone forced back into its position.

  Barely able to tell if it was broken or not.

  Finally deciding to kill after they attacked him first, feeling the rage and pain intertwined like a hot shower.

  Needing an outlet that fit his style.

  Remembering that the Walkman he had could play around him as an aura.

  Whispering to himself.

  “That… that's kinda cool to do.”

  So, he pulled out his Walkman.

  Spinning it around in the air like a sword.

  Landing in his palm and selecting a random song.

  That being Oh My Dis Side by Travis Scott.

  Cracking his knuckles as the song began around him like a soundtrack tied to an explosion.

  Saying one line before he killed.

  “Oh My, I have been up for a long time.

  And it looks like the rebel wants blood.”

  The beat dropped right after.

  Quickly rushing the gangsters in the alleyway like a silent assassin.

  As one of them fired, the morals of them all out of the room like a bird.

  Doing a parry against each pellet, reflecting the shot perfectly within milliseconds.

  Pushing the gangster back with increased knockback, bringing him to the brink of death.

  Thrusting his arm into the air to hold them all.

  Thinking to himself.

  “I don't just want them gone.

  I want blood.

  I want death.

  I want revenge against the fucker who thought this was a good idea.”

  Eventually cutting their heads off like a blade with his claws.

  Newly emerged from anger turmoil.

  The four heads landed on the floor with a grossly loud plop.

  Screamed silenced by his knuckle blade.

  Glaring at their decapitated bodies with mighty hatred comparable to that of the working man's pride.

  Yet as the song dimmed down, he felt content with his actions.

  Wishing to do more to these selfish weaklings but knowing this was enough and only enough.

  Walking away from the scene like nothing happened.

  The euphoria slowly coming down like a water fountain.

  Slowly realizing what he did without care.

  Killing men within seconds over a teddy bear and a punch that probably broke his nose.

  Soon crying from the amount of guilt he felt.

  Not knowing whether what he did was right or wrong anymore.

  Only knowing that it was kill or be killed.

  Running from the scene in tears, the conflicting emotions of grief and shock.

  Twined between empathy towards what he just commited.

  As he ran throughout the streets, people silently questioned themselves.

  Hearing the whispers of each person.

  “Why's he so dirty?

  Why's he covered in blood?

  Why's he running like he saw a gang fight?”

  Link II kept running like there was no tomorrow.

  Feet thumping into the concrete every second he ran.

  Pace increasing like that of a cheetah.

  His mind is a mix of confusion and paranoia.

  Hands trembling faintly from the acts he just committed.

  Eyes darting to everything like a heartbroken man.

  So much so that he almost broke the sound barrier with his speed.

  Stopping as he soon realized he ran to the outskirts of town.

  Now arriving at a gas station nearby the entrance of Compton, California.

  Around 4:31, Link II stepped into the gas station, it being a Chevron.

  Entering, he saw rows of aisles which held food items like chips and candy.

  In addition to other useful items that people could buy for cheap from a gas station.

  Walking up to the cashier, who seemed to be a man in his 40s.

  White skinned with brown eyes.

  Black beard mixed with hair.

  The man greeted him kindly, while Link II had a question for the cashier.

  “...sir? Do you have any teddy bears for sale?”

  Keeping his smile, the man admitted hesitantly to the truth.

  “Hey kiddo, unfortunately we don't have any teddy bears for sale.

  But I got something better for you.”

  A stuffed monkey the man held in his arms.

  Almost looking like Curious George, but rather a regular monkey.

  Giving it to him while letting him know something.

  “It's all yours, kid, for free. No expenses required.”

  But during his hand out, he grabbed his glasses and properly saw Link II’s appearance.

  A beaten-up nose that looked broken, his head bleeding from scars on the side.

  Dirty and stained clothes like a homeless person.

  “Hey, kid… what the hell happened to you? You get in a fight or something?”

  The man replied, trying to scan the rest of his face.

  Abruptly, the door opened to three robbers bursting in, barking orders to them both.

  “Put your hands up and get down on the ground!

  Give us all the money in the register, old man.”

  Link II put his hands up, kneeling to the floor.

  During this, the man silently panicked about his life.

  Whereas he panicked with his PTSD yet again.

  Nose bleeding in repetition.

  Beginning to laugh while grinning comparable to a hyena.

  The robbers looked at him weirdly, asking.

  “Yo’ kid. What the hell's wrong with you? ‘you some sort of circus freak?”

  From those words, Link II snapped.

  Hands thrusting out like blades into the man's chest, ripping his heart during his grin.

  Eyes looking dilated like animals in their hunt.

  Hearing the whispers of not wanting to hurt the men, but his PTSD overriding any thought he had of holding back.

  During his brutality, the other men tried to escape.

  Easily using his telekinesis to lock them in place.

  Slowly pacing towards them in hunter's pride.

  Yet during the action, the cashier watched with shock at what he did to the two robbers.

  Sick to his stomach from the brutal gutting of them.

  Alongside the amount of blood and guts flown around like ping pong balls.

  Lungs hanging on corners of doors.

  Stomach intestines hung from aisles.

  Blood splashing everywhere like a performance of water.

  Minutes later, the blood stained clock read 5 PM.

  Link II finally stopped.

  His body drenched in blood and bone dust.

  The grin stayed, but emotions of regret and guilt filled his mind like a parasite.

  As he fell to his knees, crying into the air, yelling in regret.

  “What is wrong with me?!”

  Slowly curling into himself during his whimpering of regret.

  While the cashier hid behind the counter, prioritizing to survive rather than help the boy who killed.

  Peering over to behind the counter, Link II looked at the man with teary eyes.

  Both eyeing each other like wounded animals.

  As the man admitted in silence.

  “Please… whatever you are.

  Don't kill me, I have a wife and family that need me to support them…

  who's gonna teach them how to change a tire without their old man?”

  He broke down even more from the man's truth, crawling towards the back and curling into himself.

  Muttering into the air, repeating the phrase.

  “I'm Sorry… please forgive me…”

  While the man watched in concern, realizing one important thing about this kid.

  “This kid isn't evil, he's just a fallen angel.”