Every Boy's Fantasy - PART TWO of Guns & Roses

Playing With Fire

Clothes were incinerated, the flooring was actually an absorbent foam rubber, that soaked up blood stains and was easily rolled up and rolled out for quick replacement. That got burned as well and replaced after the floor and walls, and even the ceiling was sprayed down. The card table and chairs were burned, as were the check, and photo of Christian; shoes, and of course, one solitary leather glove.

Charlie Higgins was stripped, sprayed down, put into a bleach bath, wrapped in plastic, and then loaded into the back of a pickup truck. He was taken out to an alley, thrown into a dumpster for Monday's pickup, and in the middle of gangbanger territory, where that method of disposal was fairly common SOP.

Darren had settled down in his room and breathed it all in.

Honestly? In the moment it was really easy to be swept up in it all, just that feeding input of blood and gore and violence, and usually when he came down from it, he wasn't always as pleased or high with bloodlust. But tonight?

Tonight felt good, and he felt good for Christian. He was sick when he thought about the man in question, and Caleb was right, in that some of the shit they said? The quip about Chris being sold into human trafficking?

He was shocked the man hadn't reacted more vehemently and taken their heads off for them. Then again? Chris wasn't the type.

He was just...a gentle creature, and that made Charlie Higgins about a thousand times worse to think about.

He finally had to smoke a blunt, grabbed a beer from his mini fridge, flipped on something inane while he thought it all over with a nice high going, and decided, he liked Chris even more than he had already.

The man was a God-forsaken peach and if he wouldn't or couldn't defend himself against the sins of the world, well, he had surely hooked up with the right family.

Drew on the other hand was living in the moment.

He got off, watched some violent porn, and ordered a few things online for kicks while stretched out in bed, and it was close to midnight when his phone went off in his hand.

It was Caleb, and all he texted was, -Come drink a beer with me-.

He exhaled, rolled his ass up to his feet, and really, wanted to know what the hell he wanted now, and found him in the den right down from his private rooms, door open, and walked in to find Darren already there. He was clearly high as a kite, and already rolling another blunt for them. He smiled when Drew came in, looked easy, and it should have been disturbing the level of therapy these events provided them all in various ways.

Some product, Drew was sure, of their father dragging them out as small children to go watch people get cut to ribbons. For Caleb it had been a blow torch, for him, Dad had spent two hours cutting a man up before putting a bullet into his skull, for Darren, he had waterboarded a man before tying him up and buried him still screaming in the dirt.

Toby Walker was another level of man and he wanted his sons prepared for anything and everything they had to do, might want to do, while driving the point in every day, that they were better than everyone else, and that was the end of it.

You just did it all with class and finesse and enjoyed the small things too.

Caleb was lining up shots on the coffee table, and there was a beer waiting for him. His green eyes flicked up and he said, "Shut the door would you?"

Drew swung it shut and they both looked at him when it clattered with a loud bang, to which he just grinned and came over. "What the hell do you want now?" He was clearly happy despite the feigned agitation, fell into one of the long couches, and sprawled out, before grabbing a beer and twisting the cap off.