"Try Again" (A DHMIS OC insert)

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(A.N: This book is purely self indulgent. The interpretations of Roy in this fandom of hell are awful and i've come to amend that. Fanon names will be used, only for consistency, not because I like them. So Red is Harry, Duck is Robin, Yellow is Manny. To spare some the confusion, "Marvin" is the name I've given to the fugly ass money guy from the kickstarter video and I'm writing him of more of a crooked con man than a literal kidnapper. Him and Roy are besties. The OC is mine, all art included is mine, the cover art is mine, but everything else belongs to Becky Sloan and Joe Pelling. Yeah that's it.)

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The route they took home always felt longer than it actually was. It was no longer than a twenty minute drive out of Clayhill, but time just seemed to drag on every time they went down that road, especially now as they drove noisily down the narrow path that neared the fields. The surroundings at either side of the vehicle barely passed as the countryside; the foliage on the trees were dry and browning and there was no signs of life to be seen as the expanse of withered grass stretched forward for miles. It was silent, inside of the rusting pickup truck and beyond its doors, save for the mournful waillings of an occasional flock of birds. Dark clouds billowed overhead, telling of the impending rain.

Roy sat in the passenger seat of the rusting truck, watching the fields lapse by them with an air of disinterest about him. The other commuter, Roy's compainion, Marvin, sat beside him, being the one navigating them down the road. They had been sat in silence for the most part, broken only by the buzzing of the radio and the drumming of Marvin's fingers against the steering wheel.
"How's your boy, then?" Came the first bit of dialogue in a while, spoken in a rough, Cockney dialect courtesy of the man in the drivers seat as he cast a curious side glance towards the other passenger. It took a few moments before Roy responded, not bothering to turn his head.

"He'll be right. Been telling me about school and that. He asked 'bout you, actually." He said, idly picking at a splinter of bone that had wedged itself between his teeth. His fingers came away red, but he didn't seemed phased by the gouts of blood coating them. After all, it had been deliberate. One frantic phone call from his son and that was all it took for Roy to be hurtling down the motorway in less than minutes. The following display of gore certainly hadn't been the cleanest- and Roy predicted that it would be a grapple to wash the mass amounts of blood out of his leather seats- but as far as he was concerned, it was well worth it. "Said he missed his uncle Marv."

"He has, eh?" Marvin said, a fond grin extending across his hairy face. He turned a corner, and suddenly the sites surrounding them became a bit more familiar. They were almost home. "He's a good boy, ain't he?"
Roy grumbled half-heartedly in response, and a few more beats of silence followed. It felt strangely tense, as if the two of them were purposely avoiding the topic on both of their minds; that was, the slaughter that had just taken place on the young boy's behalf. Or more appropriately, how shaken up he had been by it, and the events prior. The unnerving porcelain twins, or the other family members urging him on in a cocophany of hisses. Roy could hear how frightened he had been down the phone, his despairing cries for help. He could also hear their freakish chanting, and it made his blood boil.

Roy had sorted them out. Of course, he had sent Manny on his way home before he could witness it actually happening, but he knew his son better than anybody. It would be playing on his mind for a good while. He had also opted to spare Marvin the grisly details, but the other man could feel the suspense coming from Roy. The tightness in his jaw, the edge to his words. He was holding back a whirlwind of rage. He knew better than to pry, though.
"We should go somewhere, shouldn't me? Just me, you and 'im, aye? Take him for a day out somewhere other than that house with those two knobs-"

Roy didn't catch the rest of Marvin's sentence, or the chatter that followed. He was more invested in the fact that his eyes had suddenly caught on a peculiar, faraway shadow someplace in the distance, moving hastily forwards. At first he thought it was some sort of animal, perhaps a dog running about the field, but as it drew closer he could make out the silhouette of a body. The figure was racing forward, almost staggering about on their legs, as if they were running away from something. They had their arms flailing about behind them, thrashing about wildly.
And as the figure bolted forward, in the fraction of a second Roy had come to the harrowing realisation that they weren't going to make the effort to slow down. At once he was panicked, turning and gesturing wildly with his hands in an effort to warn the other man.