The Madness of Mania (Frerard AU)

Chapter 4

By the time I woke up, it was already the evening.

My trek into town took less time than expected, but I suppose that shows how desperate I was to get hold of a new gun. My laziness drove me to take a shortcut through an alleyway. My choice of route, however, was apparently near a club as the boom of a heavy bass and thrashing of guitars could be heard.

As I finally arrived at the gun store, my mind wondered, imagining all the possible ways death could be achieved with each varying weapon. I felt a wave of joy flood through me.

"Good evening sir, can I be of any assistance?" a man at the counter spoke.

"Hello," I replied cheerfully, "Indeed, I'm looking for a revolver of some sort."

"Right this way sir."

In the end, I decided on the 686 revolver, despite being tempted by much larger and more powerful firearms.

After purchasing a plethora of bullets, I kindly thanked the lone sales assistant and slit his throat. As I pulled a miniature bottle of gin from my pocket (what can I say, it gets me by) his strangled cry and choking was music to my ears in that magical moment. I smashed the bottle on the floor and dropped my ignited lighter into the pool of alcohol, while taking a brisk walk to the exit.

As I reached the alleyway, the flames had grown to a full on blaze, which was then followed by an explosion, considering the amount of ammunition and weaponry in the store.

My attention was, however, drawn to a back door that had swung open, which was apparently the door to the club with blaring music.

A figure of slightly short stature stood there - a sense of despair to their posture. With a closer look, I noticed the person standing there was in fact holding a gun to their temple. They were sobbing, uncontrollably, coming undone - I would almost say I pitied them. The muffled roar of punk rock music almost made me miss the 'click' of the gun's safety being switched off - almost.

I found myself running towards the stranger, their eyes still shut from their recent mental breakdown. Without hesitation, I slapped the gun out of their hand, however the stranger's shock of that manoeuvre caused the trigger to be pulled. As a gun shot ricocheted through the nighttime air, police sirens echoed in the distance (most likely as a result of the blaze not so far from here), although surely there'd be fire engines?

"What the fuck-" the stranger half-screamed, half-cried, confusion and anger in their tone. Then it hit me - quite literally. I realised where the bullet had ended up, and by the looks of it, so did the stranger standing less than a foot away from me. I had been hit. And to make matters worse, the wound was in my left thigh. I looked down, but even after the initial adrenaline had worn off and the pain had kicked in, I still found myself bewildered by the crimson substance.

Holding my hand to my leg in comfort and then removing it to get a much closer look oddly satisfied my bloodthirsty antics for now, but even my own blood didn't bring me quite the same satisfaction.

"Shit! Man, fuck-" Now they were showing a more panicked, remorseful motion. "I'll call an ambulance!"

"No." I grunted. I couldn't afford to go back to the asylum - there would be a significantly slim chance of me escaping again.

"Let me at least drop you off somewhere-" Their words were rushed. "Home maybe?"

"No, I can't go there..." I trailed off as the pain really started to kick in. "Fuck."

And of course, the gun shot had caused a commotion, even over the booming bass of the club. Police vehicles pulled up by the end of the alleyway nearest to the gun store (or what was left of it).