(A/N: So i see that a lot of you guys want me to kill off Roger ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .... comment "chicken nugget" if you're reading this. and ENJOY)
Music: Rats (by Motionless in White)
Voices (by Motionless in White)
*************warnings: violence*****************
*Ricky's POV*
After a lot of thought, and a lot of persuasion on Chris's part, my decision was made. I had to kick Roger out of the band. He was dragging us all down and there was no way we were going to go places if he got drunk every night and made a mess of the stage. Not to mention he hated my guts. I was the one who made the band so I am the one who can kick people out... right?
"Are you sure about this?" I paced outside of the building where we held many of our rehearsals. It wasn't much of a place really, just a run-down bar that let us practice there if we sometimes would provide live music for free. It was starting to rain, but just barely and it was starting to smudge my eye makeup. "Maybe we could do this another day." I bit my lip until I felt it start to pulse and swell a little.
"Ricky, it'll be fine. I'll be right here." Chris assured me with his arms folded over each other against his chest. I swallowed hard like there was a golfball in my throat before stepping inside of the bar. "You got this."
"Ah speaking of the devil." Josh greeted with a grin on his face. "How's the music for that song coming along?" The entire room was wafting with smoke and hazy lights.
"Uh its getting there." I stammered nervously. "Is Roger here yet?"
"Yeah, he's in the back, probably drinking. I dunno." Josh shrugged before going back to messing with our bassist, Ghost's, makeup. I've never felt my heart beat so fast or so hard in my entire life as I walked to the back of the bar.
"Roger." I croaked, my voice neither confident nor convincing. Sure enough, he was sitting on the countertop of the bar table with a bottle pressed against his lips and an evil look in his eyes.
"Look what the cat dragged in." He snickered, putting the empty bottle of beer down just to pick up another one. "You finish that song yet?" It was more of a demand than a question really.
"Listen, Roger. I really need to talk to you." I looked up at him then looked back down at my hands. You got this, I kept telling myself over and over again. Chris is right outside, nothing bad's going to happen. He raised his eyebrows and let me continue. "you'reoutoftheband." I said as quickly as possible, coming out completely incomprehensible.
"What was that?" He laughed, a grotesque bark that commanded power and savagery.
"I said," I took in a deep breath. "You're out of the band." I stood up a little taller.
"That's funny, it almost sounded like you were kicking me out of the band." He hopped off of the countertop and sauntered closer to me. "Maybe we should talk about this outside, it's a little loud in here." I knew this was a bad idea but I need him out of the band and out of my life.
I followed him out of the back entrance of the bar and felt the rain against my face. Chris was nowhere in sight and that made my stomach clench in a knot, but my feet kept moving along behind Roger's. "You really think you can kick me out of the band, Ricky?" He had that stupid grin on his face that made me want to punch his teeth in. "My band."
"It's not your band."
"Ha, yes it is, it always has been and you can't kick me out." He had this look on his face like he was the adult and I was the child and it made my skin crawl. The muscles under my leathery skin tightened. Roger, once again, got very close, wreaking of bourbon and beer, as he continued. " In fact, I should be the one kicking you out of my band."
That's when I snapped.
I didn't even have time to try to suppress my rage as my claws extended and slashed through Roger's rough skin stretching from his forehead all the way down to his chin as easily as a knife through paper. My body radiated power and animalistic nature and it felt oddly good. On his knees, Roger let out a wretched scream as he grabbed at his face, desperately trying to stop the blood from gushing down the curves of his face.
"What the FUCK." He tried to look at his crimson and slippery hands but his eyes were swollen shut from the wound. With my fist clenched semi-tightly around his throat I looked him dead in the eye with a grin that spread from ear to ear.
"You're out of the band."
"You're a fuckin' monster, I'm calling the police." His voice was getting noticeably weak, and he could barely keep eye contact as he bled out in the parking lot.
"Go ahead, No one's going to believe you." I dropped him back down to the pavement and spit at him. He whimpered, letting his head slam against the cement, his blood mixing with the puddling rainwater.
At this moment, Chris came out from the back entrance of the bar, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Ricky, what have you done?" Only then did my sense partially come back to me. What have I become?
**********************************************************************************
Well I mean y'all wanted Roger to die... (but then again maybe he isn't dead... or is he?)
How're Y'all feeling about badass Ricky now?
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