Member
Master EffeX
Half Pint
Lemons
Sep
Eviledd1984
AlteredTundra
Master Bruce
Izurich
Simple Unicycle
Damycles
Chapter Three: The Accused
When Jason Miller woke up that morning, the last thing he expected was to be accused of murder.
It was a morning like any other for the young man: groggy and miserable. Too little sleep the night before coupled with an alarm set for nine A.M equaled him climbing out of bed delirious, irritated and ready to give up on the day before it had even began. He slogged his way through a cold shower because he couldn't afford to heat it, haphazardly attempted to keep his teeth clean with a brush that should've been replaced a month ago, and he shoved a partially burnt waffle into his mouth on his way out the door.
Nothing about his morning had indicated that today would be in any way exceptional. It was another day heading off to work on foot. Another day stopping at the QuickStop™ around the corner to pick up a pack of energy drinks to make it through twelve hours at the Mick's Express Auto Service and Care Center. He'd come by here almost every single day since he started working with Mick. It was so typical and mundane that Jason could've walked there with his eyes closed- and he did nearly with how absolutely exhausted he was.
The bell above the door gave a halfhearted 'twang' as Jason stepped inside, his shoulders hunched and his eyes cast toward the floor. He made his way down the aisles of junk food and packaged sandwiches, averting his gaze from the middle aged woman and her summer dress-clad daughter while he passed by them. The girl stared up at him with wide, concerned eyes, taken in by his dirty, torn clothes and dilapidated boots. She reached behind her, taking her mother by the pant leg and tugging at it to grab her attention. "Mommy, mommy-" She whispered far too loudly.
Her mother spun about, glancing down at her child and then back up at the passing man with a look of apprehension on her face. "That's enough, Lily." She chided in a harsh mutter. She dragged her child closer, suspicion glazing over hazel eyes as she waited for Jason to move on.
He paid neither of them any mind, the thick fingers of his hand crawling up to scratch at the itch on his scruffy, hairy chin. He was used to drawing that sort of attention to himself. It used to bother him, if he was honest; but years of getting those same weary looks and sidelong glances had numbed him.
"B-but aren't we s'posed 'ta give him some money or somefin'?" She whined.
Miller couldn't help but smile, his hand falling back down into the pocket of his frequently patched jeans. 'Certainly wouldn't mind it, kid.' He quietly thought, moving deeper into the store.
He made his way to the back wall where the refrigerated items lay behind glass doors. Procuring a six pack of off-brand energy drinks, he slowly started back toward the convenience store's single counter. The clerk- a young, bored looking teenager that could do with some acne cream- was ringing up an old man's cigarettes and Powerball ticket. Jason moved up to take his place behind the guy, and the mother from a moment earlier shuffled into line just behind him, the little girl's hand tightly wrapped about her own.
"That'll be sixteen dollars n' fifty cents, sir." The teenager behind the counter said, her voice nasally and stuffed.
The old man looked at her incredulously. "What?! That's outrageous!"
She just shrugged. "It's the price."
"I could get this for ten bucks on the other side of town. You're rippin' me off." He grumbled, his bushy brow furrowed deeply.
The girl let out a long, exasperated sigh, clearly none too invested in the argument. "Look, man, if you can't pay for it than step outta line. There's two people behind ya."
Jason reached into his back pocket, plucking out the fat, leather wallet he had stuffed in it. He stepped forward and moved to the counter next to the aging elder. "How much you need?" He rasped, setting his things down to rummage through the wallet. He didn't have a lot of money to offer; he could only hope it was enough.
The elder didn't respond, pulling out his own wallet to pluck through the scrunched up dollar bills he had shoved inside. He pulled them out in a ball, quickly counting it on by setting each greenback down on the counter in front of him. "About six bucks." He finally concluded.
"Aight." Jason pulled out the cash, slapping it down on the counter. The clerk glanced between the two before sweeping it all up, counting out everything and then ringing it up. She handed back the petty change to the elderly customer, though he waved it off in favor of giving it to Jason for helping him out.
"Thanks for that." The grey haired man nodded, picking up his cigarettes and the Powerball card. He made his way out of the store, allowing Jason to get his own meager purchase rung up.
"That's twelve bucks exactly." The teenager spoke through a yawn, her eyes glazed over in her bored, sickly state. Jason was sympathetic; he hated working at a place just like this when he was her age. That was awhile ago, now. He'd turned...what was it? Twenty eight a few days ago? Time had flown by. It felt like just yesterday he was getting hammered every night and failing most of his college courses. Now he was just doing the former without the latter to keep him feeling productive and sane.
He turned his attention back to the moment at hand, his fingers digging through his wallet as he pulled out more cash. Eight, nine...Nine. He only had nine bucks left. Cursing under his breath, he flicked through to where he had some loose change stuffed in one of the side pockets, dumping out a series of nickles, dimes and quarters on the counter for him to rummage through. Just a little under ten dollars in total, he counted. Two short.
The cashier must've been counting, too, because her eyes almost immediately started to roll. The 'not this again' look on her face was almost enough for Miller to just put the drinks back and try to survive the day without them. It would be far from pleasant, but there wasn't much else he could do. "It's fine," he sighed, dragging the pack off the counter, "Guess I'll put this back." For a brief moment when he turned around, his gaze connected with the lady behind him. She just looked away, her face going hot. Miller didn't much care. He couldn't expect everyone to go around handing out cash to strangers; the world just didn't work that way.
On his way back to the refrigerated section, he heard the telltale ding of the bell above the door sound. Paying it no mind, Jason went to swing open the door, the cool air smacking up against his face as he went to slide the pack back inside. It killed him inside a little. He felt like he could go back to sleep just standing there. He definitely wasn't going to make it without some artificial assistance. Luckily for him, it looked like the store sold the same drinks individually. 'Guess I could make that work.' He mused. He'd just need to extend it out over the day. This whole long, boring day.
Or so he thought, until the sound of angry, muttering voices drew his eyes away from the selection of bad life choices.
He counted seven men cramming their way down the cold foods aisle, three shoulder-to-shoulder in the front and another four backing them up. Most of them were larger types with broad shoulders and thick, toned arms; gym rats with angry scowls splattered across their faces. It didn't take a clairvoyant to tell that they meant trouble, so Jason was quick to take a step back and put his guard up. A few of the faces in the crowd were recognizable at a glance. People he'd seen hanging around the Brass Knuckles gym, and others that he ran into on occasion while he was in town. A few of them had even come to him when their cars were on the fritz.
There was one man in particular that Miller knew better than the rest, and the sight of him was almost enough to make Jason audibly groan. He wasn't the tallest or biggest of the bunch, nor did he particularly stand out as more intelligent or cunning. But Jean was this little gang's leader none the less, and it was easy to see from the way he stood at the front of them like the heavy iron head of a spear.
"Jean." He addressed the blond haired, green eyed leader with barely veiled contempt. "Somethin' I can help you with?" There was little about the man that Jason liked. Even his attire- that letterman jacket he should've taken off after high school and those tacky chuck taylors- had painted Jean in a negative light from the moment he and Jason first encountered one another. Jean was an easy person to dislike even on his best days, Jason found, and it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with someone like him. It was only made worse by the presence of his lackeys.
Something about Jason's rival was off even from the outset. Where normally Jean would wear a cocky, arrogant smirk and his eyes would twinkle with an irritating charm, he was now plagued with nothing more than writhing, bubbling scorn. The disdain that painted his usually handsome visage coupled with the fact that he hadn't come alone was enough to send Miller retreating backward several feet, his heart pumping with an equal mixture of fear and anticipation for what was to come.
"Don't play stupid with me, rat." Jean snarled, his lips quivering with a near uncontrollably disdain. "Why'd you do it? What did he do that could've possibly-" His voice, shaky and uncertain, caught in his throat. It was a state few would ever see him in. Jean was vulnerable. He sounded confused, distraught and furious- like he was searching for something to take out his building rage on. Jason must've looked like the optimal target.
Miller was quick to throw up his hands in front of him. "I dunno what you're talkin' about, man. I don't want any trouble." He had no idea what had gotten Jean so riled up. It usually didn't take much to piss him off, but this was more than that. More than the usually short-lived vexation that came whenever Jason inevitably annoyed him into an outburst of flying fists and violent shoving.
This was something more. Something much darker than any of their previous spats.
The tension in the air grew tighter as Jean broke off from his pack, starting toward Miller with an accusatory finger held out in front of him. "Is that why you did it? He- he found out what you were up to you and you had to shut him up to 'stay out of trouble'?" As Jean got closer, Jason was forced to tilt his head upwards to maintain eye contact with the larger man. He was quick to shove against Miller, pushing him back against a shelf covered in chip bags and candy.
"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? I have no idea what you're-"
"BULL!" Jean interrupted, his spittle flying into Jason's face as he practically screamed right in his ear. It drew the attention of the few people by the front counter. The mother was quick to scoop her child up and make for the door, while the clerk slunk toward the backroom to find a phone and report the brewing incident to the police before it got too out of hand. Until they arrived, however, Jason was on his own, and he was well and truly outnumbered.
Jean wrapped his fingers around Jason's collar, dragging his shirt up around his throat as he pushed him further up along the shelving. "You did in Audrey too, didn't you? Was that what you were trying to hide? I knew it. I knew you'd do something again. Once a scumbag always a scumbag, right? They never should've let you out of that cell-"
Before either of them knew what was happening, a fist had connected with Jean's nose and they were both grappled together, tumbling to the floor. Punches were sent flying, some of them scoring direct hits and rippling flesh while others skidded by and hit either air or the rough, tiled floor. Jason's knuckles throbbed by the sixth or seventh strike, and he could already feel his cheek swelling from where Jean was repeatedly pounding his fist against his face.
A half dozen powerful hands had found their way around Jason's back the moment he ended up on top of Jean, his goon squad dragging the former convict to his feet to promptly slam him up against the opposite wall of refrigerated goods. The glass wobbled with the impact, an odd little sound reverberating every time one of them would drive their knees into Miller's guts.
He let out a long, sputtering cough, the taste of iron lingering with the spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth. "I didn't do...whatever it is...you think I did." He mumbled, drops of blood slipping down into his scraggly facial hair. They didn't seem to believe him- or maybe they didn't care. More punches were sent his way. A tooth was dislodged during the chaos and knocked to the floor. It was hard for him to get his bearings during the beating, and they weren't letting him do anything more than sit there and take it- a few of them had shoved his arms up against the wall to keep him securely in place.
"Let him go." Jean, his breathing haggard and slow, ordered. He was rising from his hands and knees, his own face contorted from the injuries Jason had given him. His boys looked back at him and, seeing the state that he was in, appeared...unsure. "I said let him go! I can do this myself. I...need to." He snarled, stepping forward to throw his own people off of Jason.
Instead of getting the fair fight he wanted, Jean was immediately greeted by a swift haymaker to his jaw. It sent him stumbling backward, his whole world spinning as it was knocked off course. He ended up on his rear, a hand on his head as he tried to level himself out from the likely concussion he was suffering from.
Once more, Miller attempted diplomacy. "Look, I don't know what you think I did, but I'll tell ya again: I didn't do it. I don't even know what-" Before he could finish getting a word in edgewise, the goons from before were coming at him again, seemingly incapable of taking orders from their leading man.
This time, however, Jason wasn't having any of it.
He squared up, his weight spread evenly between his legs as he threw his fists up in front of himself. The first of them came forward looking to shoulder tackle Jason like he was a quarterback. He took a step to the side, throwing out a much more controlled punch straight to the other man's temple that sent him reeling sideways.
The other one came at him just as quickly, a pair of wild fists trying to find purchase in his face. Miller danced to the side, his fingers wrapping about the frozen door's handle. He threw it open just as he moved out of the charger's way, allowing him to fall inside the refrigerator. Jason slammed the door on the side of his head a couple of times to ensure he wouldn't get back up.
"...Do I have to..lay it out for you?" Jean half rasped, half snarled. He still hadn't found his feet quite yet, but he had just enough fight left in him to keep talking. There was a thick, sharp layer of emotion dancing through his voice. The fires of his rage mingled with embers of grief, only strengthening the hate that permeated his every word. It dripped like venom in his voice. "You- you murdered my dad. You took an ax and you chopped him up because you're a sick piece of garbage. And I'm...I'm gonna kill you for it."
Jason felt like he'd been struck by a bullet straight through his chest. All of the air flew from his lungs as he turned, his eyes locking with Jean's as he finally understood why this was all happening. "You think I killed Leon?" He repeated, dumbstruck. Jason and the O'Connell family had their differences. They'd butted heads for years, even before Jason's incarceration; but to accuse him of murdering Leon? It made him bubble up with anger at the audacity of such a claim.
"You don't...get to say his name." Jean breathed, almost to his feet. He was using the shelf to slowly drag himself off of the floor and onto shaky, uneven legs, though by the look of it he was beginning to find some semblance of internal balance.
"Look, Jean-" Jason pinched the bridge of his nose with a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry about what happened, but you can't just-" The others were beginning to close in on him now. With Jean rising from the floor and the other two starting to stir, and with none of them showing any apparent desire to stop trying to beat his head in, Jason had to cut himself short. His chance at slipping away from the scene was slipping away from him each second he wasted trying to reason with this crowd.
He spun on his heel, giving one final, regretful look over his shoulder at Jean before breaking away at a sprint down the aisle opposite the four men that remained standing. They clambered over the fallen after him, shouting any number of threats as they struggled to keep up. Jason ignored them, making for the exit with all of his earthly might, knowing full well what would happen if they caught him. He tore across the store, knocking down a stand of beef jerky as an added measure to keep the parade from following immediately after him.
Miller exploded through the front door, his head on a swivel in search of his car.
When he spotted it, his heart sank. The people that had come after him must've figured he would try to get away, because they'd gone to all the trouble of parking their own vehicles all around his own. With that option off the table and in desperate need of an escape, Jason decided to continue running in a straight line toward the street.
His only hope was that he might be able to lose them in the woods on the other side.
Jean came running out of the door a moment later, followed shortly by the rest of his friends. "You hear me, Miller?! I'm gonna kill you!"
