Alastor x Male Reader Prequel

It Was You?

Me: oh SHIT! Here comes the deets! This is the drama of the century! Borders on soap opera! Beware the gore! Mentions of rape.
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It had been a steady period until January with hardly any change. Mr. Singer seemed to be entangled deep in a web of illegal activity. (Y/n) had found countless accounts of misconduct towards women. Mr. Singer was definitely dealing in illegal art deals. He had a warehouse that he knew had art pieces stacked up in it, ready to be sold off and bid on like they were originals. (Y/n) had snooped long enough to discover that this slimey man was doing more than just battering women, or bad art deals. He was in the alcohol trade.

It was only when Mrs. Geraldine had been hurt that (Y/n) decided it was time to act. He had a hunch it was Mr. Singer and if so, he would urge her to press charges. (Y/n) hated that she had been hurt, but he knew it wouldn't stop unless the person responsible was in prison. Poor woman was beat and raped. It's almost impossible to come back from that. He had to remind himself of how terrible people could be and this was just a reminder he never wanted. (Y/n) brought flowers as he made it to her room.

"Hello, Mrs. Geraldine. I hope these make your day a bit better." (Y/n) says.

Mrs. Geraldine gives a small smile, "Thank you, sugah."

(Y/n) pulls up a chair. "How are you? Really?"

Mrs. Geraldine sighs, "I just... I can't... it was aweful!"

(Y/n) furrows his brows and gives the secretary a hug. "I know... but I can't help until you tell me who done it."

Mrs. Geraldine starts crying, "It was... nonono."

(Y/n) lilts to her, "He won't evah hurt you gain if you tell me."

Mrs. Geraldine sniffles, "It was the art director, mr. Singer. He's also the bootlegger that's killed them folks!"

(Y/n) jumps when he hears a click. He stands up and whips around. There stood a tall figure with a snarl and a loaded pistol.

"Wait-" (Y/n) starts.

Mr. Singer says, "You bitch! You sold me out. Better say your prayers."

He aimed and fired on Mrs. Geraldine. (Y/n) attempted to scoot away while the man was busy only to have the gun pointed at him. He gulps and freezes.

"Mr. Singer... Think about all the business-" (Y/n) is cut off.

A shot in the leg and (Y/n) screams. He grips the wound. He curses to himself.

"I have the whole floor cleared out. No one will hear you." Bob says.

(Y/n) inches closer. He says, "Can't we get along? A deal of sorts? My silence and a partnership?"

Bob keeps the gun on target, "Your cute kid, but I think you're forgetting something... I've got the gun! I'm getting filthy rich and you? You're just a shmuck. Why should I do that when I can just kill you? Especially since I know you're the rat snooping around my warehouse!"

(Y/n) grabs the mans arm and forces them both to the ground. Another shot goes off. He wrestles for the gun. (Y/n) manages to slip it from his hand and aims.

"I have connections from the mafia! Don't think for one second that this is over!" He yells.

With those words, (Y/n) unloads the rest of the bullets into the man's chest. He pants and then takes his shirt and wipes the gun down. (Y/n) looks around and he notices that his vision was getting a bit hazy. He wondered if there was anyone around that heard the gunshots. Hopefully had enough time to make a plan. He goes to stand. He feels a sharp pain in his side and looks down to see blood. (Y/n) puts pressure on the hole, but nothing stops the blood from seeping out.