The collision
Regulus Black has done many despicable things in the name of his family, his father, the legacy that must be upheld, but this, this might be the worst.
He gave the order and immediately was sick. Vomiting up everything he had in his stomach, until he couldn’t anymore. Until his throat burned and his lungs ached. Involuntary tears streamed down his cheeks leaving a trail of misery in their wake.
He hates himself for doing it. For being a good little heir and following his fathers orders. He’s always done his fathers bidding, always been good at following orders. This though, takes the cake.
He doesn’t even know if he’s redeemable after this. If it’s forgivable. If he is redeemable. Maybe he doesn’t deserve forgiveness or redemption. Maybe he never deserved it. Maybe he doesn’t want it if forgiveness is even a thing that he is able to obtain. Can someone be redeemed from something like this? Regulus didn’t think so.
He wasn’t there when the order was executed by his fathers cronies, but he can still hear the little boy's screams for his father in his mind. A shrill cry in the dark that cuts him to his very tattered and darkened soul. Every time he closes his eyes he can see the young boy being pulled from his car while his father is being beaten. Him thrashing trying to fight off the men in masks, trying desperately to get back to his father who is bleeding onto the concrete. He gave the order to do this, he did this. It’s his fault. He is to blame. Not his father, not the men who he ordered to do this, him.
Regulus never would’ve willingly done this, it was Regulus’s life or this kids. He knew it, he’s always known it. His head has been on the chopping block ever since his no good older brother ran out on him when he was fourteen.
He wishes he would’ve just said no, told his father to go fuck himself and then ran off to the countryside where no one knows who he is or what last name he has. That’s what his brother would’ve done, the brave thing. It’s what he should have done. Yet he still chose the cowards path because he knows there is no spare after him. He chose to save his own skin rather than face his fathers wrath and save this innocent boy in the process. But, what sane person wouldn’t choose the same thing?
Regulus walks into the warehouse his father owns that’s down by the Hudson River. He hates this place, it smells of fish and mold. The walls are basically falling down and there’s rust everywhere. He wishes it would collapse, but it’s convenient for dumping bodies that his father doesn’t want found.
“Where is he?” Regulus asks.
“In the back room sir.” Says some guy who his father assigned to his security detail. Every time Regulus did a job for his father he always had at least four men on him at all times if not more. Regulus guesses his father wants to protect his property, because that’s what Regulus is. He’s property, he is owned, he has no real free will.
“Take me.” The man nods and leads Regulus through the damp hallway to a room with an iron door. Three more people fall in as he walked. He pushes the iron door open with a creak.
“Do not disturb us.” Regulus turned back and ordered the men.
“Yes sir.” They said in unison. With that Regulus closes the door and looks at the boy.
He sits in the corner, knees up to his chest and shaking. His brown eyes rimmed red and swollen from crying. He’s so afraid, and Regulus knows there is nothing he can do to help, not really. He’s the bad guy in this situation, though he still tries.
“Is there anything I can get you? A drink? A snack maybe?” He asks the boy as tears stream down the boy's face. He speaks to him as if he’s a wounded animal, soft and slow. Not wanting him to be spooked any further.
“I want to go home. I want my dad.” He replies through his sniffling.
“I know, I'm so sorry but you’ll get to see him soon.” The lie tasted sour on his tongue. Regulus grimaced at himself and the ease in which the lie slipped from his lips.
The words sounded hollow to even Regulus. It was an empty promise. One Regulus didn’t know if he would be able to keep. Those were the only kind of promises Regulus was able to give these days. Empty and meaningless. Just like how he felt. He is rot. He ruins everything he touches with his poison.
“You promise?” He says in only a way a child full of despair and no hope would say.
“I promise.” Regulus lied once more wishing he could stop. The boy nodded.
They sat there for a while after, both in relative silence except for the boy's occasional sniffing. Each time the boy would sniff Regulus would hate himself more.
A knock sounded on the iron door that leads to the rest of the warehouse. The sound causes the boy to jump and curl further in. It set Regulus’s teeth on edge and caused a spike of anger to course through his body. He stood and carefully walked to the door, opening it with care to not scare the boy any further.
He stepped out and waited until the door was closed and he was on the other side to speak.
“Did I not explicitly tell you not to disturb me?” Regulus grinds out, irritated.
“Yes sir, my apologies but there’s a situation.” The man looked weary.
“What?” Regulus snapped.
“They’ve caught him sir, but…” the man paused.
“But what? Well speak!” Regulus was truly irritated now.
“He’s not in the black mask you described sir, he looks to be in a red suit with some type of line work on it. Almost like spider webs.” This piqued his interest significantly. Spider webs huh ?
“Take me to him.”
…
Well James has gotten himself in a right pickle hasn't he… in his defense he didn’t know it was going to be a trap. All he knew was he saw a young boy being kidnapped and he couldn’t let that happen.
So like the idiot he is he followed the van to this sketchy ass warehouse not doing any reconnaissance before busting up in here figurative guns blazing just to be caught in a (for lack of a better term) another’s spider web. I mean he’s supposed to have super senses. How did he miss the trap they set for him? It was a dumb mistake and he knew that, one that might end up costing him everything.
When James says this place is sketchy he means it. Like he’s pretty sure he should call an inspector out here after he gets out of the ropes and handcuffs they currently have him in (because he will). There has got to be at least like 12 health and safety violations in this one room. The roof is basically falling in from water damage and everything is rusty. Which is definitely a tetanus infection waiting to happen, but I mean he guesses these people kinda deserve it if they’re going to kidnap a kid.
The ropes are tightly wrapped around his body, hands behind his back. He doesn’t really mind being tied up all that much, however he doesn’t appreciate the whole hanging upside down part. Like they’ve literally tied him up and hung him from the beams on the ceiling. The bastards.
He feels like he’s in an itchy fibrous cocoon that he definitely doesn’t want to be in. Claustrophobia is setting in and he wants to crawl out of his skin. Everything is too tight and even his typically comfortable suit is making him uncomfortable. He might actually explode before he gets a chance to escape.
“Can someone untie me already? This is really uncomfortable. I know I look like a spider but that doesn’t mean I like being hung from the ceiling, assholes!” He yells.
His head feels like it’s about to bust open with all the blood rushing to his brain. You would think since he was bitten by a spider that hanging upside down would be an easy thing for him but noooo another one of a spider's cool traits he didn’t inherit. Along with the ability to escape apparently because these ropes weren’t budging.
“Someone is about to be really unhappy with my fists breaking their nose really soon if you don’t untie me!” He was getting angry and jerking at the ropes.
“Oh really? And whose nose do you plan on breaking?” Said a man with a voice he almost recognizes but can’t place. The top portion of his face is shrouded in shadows but the bottom portion is gorgeous. All perfect porcelain skin and sensual lips. Well… shit this is going to be more difficult than he expected. Clearly.
“Why don’t you step into the light and find out if it’s you pretty boy?” James replied.
“Oh I don’t think so, those ropes are holding you quite well.”
“What? You scared?” James teased.
“You wish.” And when the man said that it made James grin . “Now why don’t you tell me who you are and why you broke into my warehouse?”
“You first.” James smiled behind his mask that was slowly suffocating him but now is simply a barrier keeping his face shielded. The man sighed and James thought that he wanted to be the cause of more noise’s coming from the man’s mouth. Christ what was wrong with him? He was tied up and hanging from a ceiling for Godric's sake and this man was the culprit behind it.
“Now why would I do that? You’re the one tied up and I didn’t break into anything. So it seems to me like you’re at a bit of a disadvantage here and the odds aren’t really in your favor.” He gestured to the men with guns surrounding them.
“Whenever you want to even those odds just let me know. I’ve got nowhere to be.” James goaded.
“No, I guess you don’t. Now I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?” His voice was smooth and so familiar but he couldn’t quite place where he knew it from.
“You stole a little boy.” James ground out.
“I did no such thing, I had some men do that for me.” He said matter of factly. James saw red.
“So what? You ordered it. You’re still responsible, and worse than I imagined. You’re a coward who will never be anything other than a criminal who gets others to do his dirty work for him.” James said and he thinks he saw the man flinch just the tiniest bit.
“You know nothing about me or why I did what I did.” His voice was ice cold and it froze James to the bone.
“No? Tell me then? Tell me what justification you have for kidnapping a young boy and having his father beaten in front of him.” He asked.
“His father owed money, I needed bait. It was a win win, but I guess I used the wrong bait because the wrong spider crawled into my web. That is unless you’ve had quite a bit of redesigning done to your little costume.” The man gestured at James waving his hand up and down, but all James could think of was who else could this trap be meant for if not him?
“What were you hoping to catch if not me?” He couldn't refrain from asking. Damn his curious mind.
“That hardly seems to be your concern since you’re going to be swimming in the Hudson by daybreak.” his voice was cold, calculating almost. Like the mind behind the voice was way smarter than using a boy as bait.
“Oh so you’re going to kill me now?” James teased, he couldn't help himself apparently.
“That was always the plan love, you didn’t expect me to let you walk? Did you?” Love?… Why did he call him that? He doesn't know him, why is he being called love? Why is it making his heart beat faster? It’s probably just adrenaline. It’s probably fine.
“No I guess not.” James answered truthfully but it still stung for some reason.
“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way I don’t really care if you see my face anymore, it’ll be the last you see anyways.”
James' blood chilled as the voice finally matched the face and he stepped from the shadows. Black curls and ocean eyes stared at him and he felt sick.
…
Mary hates sleeping alone. She always has. The empty feeling of a cold side to the bed, the way you reach for a body that isn’t there. It makes her feel hollowed out, like the empty space is a representation of how she feels. She much prefers the warmth of another body beside hers.
The way bodies meld into one during sleep, keeping each other warm. She loves that, she thrives off another’s touch. The way it makes her feel, not only in that moment, but inside. It keeps her whole. Like their warmth is the tape holding her broken pieces together.
It’s why she’s always had a string of lovers. None of them lasted for long or were serious but they kept the other side of the bed warm and that was enough. Enough to keep her from being empty. From falling apart at her fragile and fraying seams.
Unfortunately, they usually expected sex beforehand. Now she’s not exactly opposed to sex, it can be fun, but she would like to just be held sometimes. Was that too much to ask for? Well for men it apparently was. But to keep her from sleeping alone she’d gladly give her body away for a few minutes. It was a fair price in her mind, a body for a body, an even trade.
Tonight she is alone. It’s empty here in her cell. The bed is vacant and cold. She hates it. She hates the silence and the stale air. The smell of too many unwashed bodies stains the mattress making it unbearable to lay any other way except on her back. Her head rests on a hard and flat pillow and covers her body with a threadbare blanket. She’s shivering. It's so cold, but she knows she won’t be getting another blanket.
She shut her eyes, imagining sheep just to keep her mind occupied, but must’ve fallen asleep at some point because she didn’t hear the iron barred door open. She didn’t hear the man creep in. She didn’t know he was there until his calloused hands were on her soft lips, covering her scream.
She thrashed and punched and kicked and clawed. She fought wildly, like an untamed animal who has been cornered, and make no mistake there is not an animal that is more dangerous than a cornered one.
His hands didn’t move, crushing her lips into her teeth. She tasted blood like warm iron staining her teeth a sinister maroon. He picked her up by her curls with one hand while keeping the other over her mouth.
He wrapped his arm around her body reaching for the threadbare blanket. His grip was too tight. Mary felt herself bruising. Turning that angry shade of red before the blues and purples.
Her screams were so loud in her mind, yet they never made it past his palms. He had silenced her in a way she had never been before. Mary, a girl who no one had ever been able to silence, couldn’t make a sound to scream for help. In the moment she needed her voice the most it failed.
He wrapped the blanket around her neck and pulled it taught. It closed her throat so she couldn’t breathe. She was gasping now. She fought the whole time. Clawing at the blanket. Begging for air.
He was winning. He was going to win this fight. The fight of her life had come and she had none left in her. Nothing in her frayed soul left to fuel her blazing inferno. She was left only an ember, barely a spark.
She could feel her throat closing and her lungs grow tight and burn. They ached with the ember that barely raged in her.
He held her there, unwavering. His brute strength was fierce. She couldn’t do anything, she was powerless. She couldn’t fight.
He whispered in her ear. The warm air brushing the shell of her ear like a lover’s whisper of sweet nothings. This felt nothing like that, it felt like the breath of the devil claiming her for himself. Hot and possessive.
She was too gone to understand what he said, too hungry for air. She went limp in his arms. Arms that felt like a cage. Her body gave out, only her mind was working, but only just. In her final moments of consciousness she decided she wasn’t going out that easily, without a fight. She had just enough in her to scratch at his eyes one last time. One last attempt at revenge.
He never saw it coming. Then he’d never see anything ever again. She could feel the blood and gore beneath her fingernails. She wanted to gag but couldn’t find it in herself. Couldn't find it in herself to do anything but stay alive.
He screamed and fell back into the concrete wall. Blood streaming down his face like tears. Mary let out one final scream in hopes that someone, anyone would hear her. Hoping someone would help. The officer Lily had said was named Kingsley did. He rushed in, her knight in shining armor and tackled the bastard to the ground.
Mary shook and wept as he held her. Kingsley let her sob into him as her attacker was dragged out in handcuffs by his fellow officers. Blood stained his face. Blood stained Mary's hands and she wasn't sure if she was ever going to be able to be free from bloody hands again.
Mary has always hated being alone, yet she always is and always will be. Yet here in Kingsleys arms she felt safe and that was enough.
…
Regulus stepped from the shadows he used to mask his features. The man hanging from the ceiling let out a small noise. Barely audible, but Regulus heard it. It was almost like a shocked gasp got caught in his throat. That thought made Regulus’s eyes trail down to his throat unwillingly. Imagining what noises he would make in Regulus’s wake.
Merlin! He really needs to get a grip on himself. He's supposed to be killing this man in a moment. But the thing is he doesn’t want to kill him, he doesn’t want to kill anyone. He’s wearing his good shoes and can’t be bothered to get them bloody. He could order one of the men to do it but he knows his father will find out. He knows he has to do it, his father will have his skin if he doesn't.
Regulus stepped towards him and he looked stricken, even through the mask. His brow crinkled and his mouth downturned. Regulus hated it, hated him. He needed to fix it, he needed to make his mouth make all sorts of shapes.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“I’m not going to kill a man if I can’t see his face.” Regulus replied. In all honesty he probably could’ve just shot him there, but he needed to see him. Needed to look at the face that’s causing him so much trouble.
“I mean or you could just let me go? I could take the boy and not come back.” His voice was tight. He was lying but Regulus didn’t need to hear his voice to know that. No one who dresses up in a skimpy little costume to fight crime is going to give up that easily.
“Yeah see you’re probably the worst liar I’ve ever met and I’ve known you a total of fifteen minutes.” Regulus almost chuckled unwillingly then but kept his composure, not willing to let his mask slip.
“No honestly you’ll never have to see me again.” The thought of that made his stomach twist. He didn’t like that at all for a multitude of reasons he couldn’t be bothered with trying to understand and unravel at the moment. Regulus fixed him with a look and the man looked right back. Regulus raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Waiting on the masked man to break. Regulus never broke. “Alright, yeah, you’re right.” The masked man conceded. Regulus gave a feline smirk.
“Just as I expected, you vigilantes are all the same. You’re entitled and have such an inflated ego, and because your sense of justice is so strong you tend to take it into your own hands not caring who gets hurt along the way.” Regulus explained. He was taking a bit of revenge for the earlier comment about him being a coward, but the man didn’t need to know just how deeply that stung. How easily he was able to cut him deep. He just wanted him to hurt as he did.
“I’m not like that.” He sounded like he was in pain, good.
“No? So you’re not here because you think you’re better than the police at their job?” Regulus asked.
“I’ve never hurt anyone.” He deflected. Regulus stepped closer.
“Tell that to the families you left without any source of income, to the families you’ve torn apart.” He was being cruel and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop. He’s never been able to when he locks onto a target. It’s like his mouth has a mind of its own and he can’t control what awful things he can say. He hates it, but it also excites him.
“That’s different. Those people are criminals and deserve to be in prison.” He was heated now and it fired Regulus up even more, he hasn’t had this much fun in a while.
“You’re no different than me if you think about it really.” Regulus hummed.
“I’m nothing like you.” He growled and it sent shivers down Regulus’s spine. He stepped closer.
“So you’re not tearing families apart with your jumped up sense of importance? With your ego?”
“It’s not the same.” He tried defending himself.
“No, maybe not, but I digress. We’re both tearing families apart, both ruining lives. You’re no better than me.” Regulus stepped closer and he heard his breath hitch. Regulus was winning in the battle of wills.
Regulus was so close to him now he could smell his sweat. He wanted to taste it, to taste his victory. He doesn’t know why, but he’s never felt so invigorated by anyone before. This man was intoxicating in the worst possible way. He was dangerous. Regulus hated danger, he hated him.
Regulus reached out and touched his cheek, just to be cruel. Just barely with the tips of his fingers. He felt the masked man shudder and he knew it was because Regulus was about to take his mask and it sped Regulus’s heart so fast he thought it was going to burst from his chest. From his chest and into a bloody mess right at his feet.
He traced his fingers down to his jawbone feeling the strength of it. He could feel the warmth from his skin on his fingertips. Warmth he wanted flush with his own skin. He slipped his fingers to the hem of the mask and curled his fingers into it feeling the smooth skin beneath. He felt his own breath shake in his chest. Their eyes never broke contact.
“Do it.” The man brokenly whispered, and as he started pulling the mask from his skin the world went dark.
…
He was so close, he had his fingers on his skin, taunting and teasing James’s sanity. His breaths came in short hot pants. His lungs ached and his head swam. He doesn't know if it's from being hung upside down or if it's from how near Regulus was to him. How he touched him. He was so dizzy.
“Do it.” he had said. He doesn't know why he did but it's like Regulus’s touch was hypnotic. Making him lose all sense of being and self. He wanted to lose himself in him. To lose himself in his hateful touch, but Regulus’s hateful touch felt like anything but. It felt like losing oneself to the rhythm of music, the floaty abyss of pure bliss. He knew it shouldn’t, he knew he should be frightened but he also knew deep down somehow that Regulus would hesitate.
Just as he was about to be exposed the warehouse went dark and James was shocked back into himself. One second he had Regulus’s fingers on his throat and was having a mild crisis, okay maybe a bit more than mild but no one needed to know that, the next he felt his ropes snap and he fell to the ground in a heap.
The noise he made when his body hit the ground and the air was forced out of his lungs was so embarrassing. That was definitely going to leave bruises tomorrow, on both his body and ego. That is if he makes it to tomorrow, but now that Regulus’s hands were vacant on his skin he felt cold. Like the music had abruptly stopped and he was left there stranded. James made a vow then he was going to make it out of here. Just to get Regulus's hands on him again.
He doesn’t know what happened next but he hears gunfire and punches being thrown. He doesn’t hesitate; he races for what he hopes is the boy. Dodging punches and knives. He hears the grunting of thrown punches and the smack of them finding their mark. He uses his webs to get above the fighting, trying to circumvent the bullets and find the boy. The whole reason he was here he had to keep reminding himself.
That's when he hears him. Not the boy but Regulus. His groan. James doesnt think twice he races for him using the rafters. Or what he thinks is him. He can’t find him in this darkness. He calls out.
“REGULUS.” He gets no response, just the sound of fighting below.
The emergency lights turned on and he saw him. Saw him with a halo of blood surrounding his body. He looked like an angel of death. Hair tousled and blue eyes bright. James swung for him.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“What does it look like? I'm saving your sorry ass.” Regulus had been shot right in the side and had some sort of head wound that concerned James. He was losing a lot of blood. He knew he was going to have to stop the bleeding to be able to get him to a hospital. Godric! He wishes his mother or Sirius was here to tell him what to do.
“Why?” Regulus slurred.
“Because against my better judgment I don’t actually think you’re evil. Hold still I’ve got to seal this wound before you bleed out.” James used his webs to hold the angry skin together. His webs would hold it together and would absorb the blood for now but Regulus really needed a doctor. He started layering his webs over the gunshot wound, staunching the bleeding for now.
“What are you doing?” His voice was slow and methodical like he was trying his best to annunciate his syllables.
“I’m making a bandage so you don’t bleed out.” James replied while tightening the makeshift web bandage around his waist.
“Ho’ do you know how to do this?” He asked. Slightly slurring his words, probably due to shock.
“My moms a nurse.” James replied while he worked on closing the head wound. Distantly the fighting had stopped. James didn’t notice until an unfamiliar voice got his attention.
“You take care of him, I’ll get the boy.” Said a man in all black. James had no clue who he was but he saved him so he trusted him.
“Alright, he was taken on the corner of west 53rd. His dad drove a black suv.” James supplied him with the information.
“Thanks, I’ll get him to the hospital then circle back and pick up any stragglers and take them to the precinct.”
“Alright, when you do, ask for Officer Shacklebolt, he's a good guy. I’ll get the boy home and make sure his dad is alright.” James nodded at him and then the masked man tilted his head slightly, like he was listening. Within a second he turned and walked towards a hallway with a blinking red light and a metal door at the end. He left an imposing outline of pure darkness as he walked down the hall breaking the blinking red bulbs with his batons. He walked like death incarnate.
James looked down at Regulus to see him watching this encounter with a curious expression. Like a cat who’s prey just escaped and he’s planning his next trap.
“What?” James asked and he looked up at him.
“You enjoy this, saving people, don't you?” Regulus’s voice was soft. So unlike the man earlier, probably from his head injury. He definitely has a concussion.
“I like helping people, especially when they can’t help themselves.” James shrugged and Regulus hissed when James pulled the bandage around his waist tighter.
James had closed his wounds for now in makeshift battle bandages, he then gently picked him up. Hooking his arm underneath Regulus trying not to hurt him. Regulus let out a loud groan.
“Fuck.” He hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” James said as he started carrying him out of the warehouse. James's arms wrapped around his waist, avoiding the wound, holding Regulus close to his side.
“You called out for me?” Regulus said, but it sounded like a question.
“I did, yes. Now I’m going to have to swing to get you there. Do you think you can stay conscious and hold on to me?” James asked, avoiding the subject.
“I think so yeah, hurts too bad to sleep now anyways.” Regulus replied then paused before asking “How’d you know my name?”
“That’s not important right now.”
“It’s important to me.” Regulus slurred, glancing up into James' eyes. Well, mask. What he wouldn’t give to be able to show him his face.
“Try not to talk, okay? Here wrap your arms around me and hold on tight.” Regulus nodded and James used his free arm to shoot his web and pulled them into the night air.
…
Remus is in a whirlwind of fists, gunfire, and sharp cold iron. The gunpowder singed his nose making it difficult to detect anything else. Fighting tooth and nail to get out of this piss filled alley where he refused to be another John Doe. Another nameless man that this city claims into her rot-filled maw.
At one point Remus doesn’t know who’s blood is staining his hands. He just keeps going. He keeps going through the cuts and the stabs, through the punches that rattle his jaw. He keeps going even after he’s been thrown into the wall and can barely stand. He wants to punch these people till they stop breathing, till they bleed out onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. He never does though, he can’t bring himself to.
Now Remus is pretty sure the blood staining his hands is his own. One person got in a cheap shot while he was dealing with two other people and stabbed him in the side. He felt the cool metal slide in with a sharp burn. He was going to bleed out if he didn’t get out of this alley soon.
He had dropped off the boy at his house like he told the man in the suit who was tied up at the warehouse he was going to. The only problem he had was when he had turned to walk away from the boy's house, a group of people had been waiting for him in the alleyway.
He took to the roofs to escape them. They followed. Jumping from one rooftop to the next dodging bullets. Some of them unsuccessfully. They burned his skin, but he couldn’t feel it. Too high on adrenaline. He was running so fast and hard but had nowhere to turn to. Nowhere to hide. But he ran. He ran until his lungs almost popped and his heart almost stopped. The only thing coursing through his mind was his dads words of “Lupins don’t quit, no matter what. If we’re knocked down, we get back up and fight. We fight till we stop breathing or we win.”
In his haze he thinks he lost them somewhere along the rooftops but he isn’t sure. His head is fuzzy and his shirt is soaked with blood. He just needed to make it across this last building then he’s sure he outran them. The next thing he knew when he took the jump and he ended up falling into darkness.