Mine (a Riverdale fanfiction)

The Black Hood

When his father came home, Jughead was waiting for him with a takeout bag from Pop's. "Hey, Dad."

"What's all this?"

"This is a celebratory dinner." His father shot him a suspicious look. "Penny didn't show up for your pick-up, did she?"

"No." FP came slowly toward him. "No, she didn't. Why, do you know something about that?"

"She's gone, Dad." FP stood frozen with his coat half-off, and Jughead hurried to get the rest of the story out before his father's temper could flare. "I rallied the younger Serpents. We drove her out of Riverdale. And I got my pound of flesh in the process."

"Are you nuts? She will be back. You better believe that."

"She won't!" Jughead shouted over his father. "I was very persuasive. And even if she does, we will take care of it. You and me. And the other Serpents. In unity there is strength."

At that, FP threw his hands up in the air, turning away.

"That's the sixth law. While you were in jail, I recited that every day. I lived by that." Jughead moved around the coffee table while his father sank onto the couch, putting his head in his hands. "You want to take my jacket? You want to relegate me to Toys for Tots? Fine. But I'm still a Serpent, Dad. And this? This life, that you wanted to protect me from? I'm proud of this." They looked at each other, Jughead desperate to make his dad see how he had changed, who he had become. "I'm proud of who I am. You can't take that away from me."

FP nodded slowly. "All right, son. We'll ... take it one step at a time."

Jughead swallowed hard, hoping he had done the right thing.

"Let's start by eating," FP said, reaching for the bag. "I'm starving."

"Me, too." Jughead grinned in relief, taking the spot on the couch next to his dad, glad that things looked like they might get better between them. They'd spent too much time apart to waste any more of it.

*****

In the old photo albums among her grandfather's stuff, Betty and Archie had found the picture they were looking for—her grandpa and several other men standing together in front of a mound of fresh dirt, near a tree they both recognized from Pickens Park.

They had called Sheriff Keller on their way, but neither of them wanted to wait for him, concerned that every minute that passed shortened Mr. Svensson's chances of surviving whatever ordeal the Black Hood was putting him through.

In front of the tree was a mound of fresh dirt, just like the one in the picture, with a shovel sticking out of it, and a sign saying "Here lies Joseph Conway. Sinner."

Archie grabbed the shovel and started digging while Betty held her flashlight on the grave so he could see what he was doing. They dug down until the shovel hit something solid, and brushed the dirt off. It was a wooden box. Together, they lifted the lid, and found ... nothing. It was empty.

"Where's Mr. Svensson? Why would the Black Hood bury an empty coffin?"

Suddenly, Betty had a sickening feeling she knew what had happened. "What if it's a—"

The click of a gun being cocked interrupted her. They looked up to see the Black Hood standing over them.

He pointed the gun at Archie. "Get in the coffin."

Archie stood frozen, staring at the gun, and Betty thought of the way his father had been shot, of his confession that he hadn't seen the shot because he'd been too scared. She would have understood if he'd done what the Black Hood asked, but instead he shook his head and stood his ground. "No. No way."