fellowshippers

Title: (working on it, someone suggest something?) 1/?

Author: HMC

Rating: R (violence, yay)

Summary: Something has gone very wrong in the club tonight.

Feedback: PLEASE. I'll love you forever and give you free candy from CVS.

Notes: I’ve been watching “25^th Hour” too much, I swear. Those of you who have seen it will notice the influence immediately. Now, call me kooky, but does Edward Norton remind anyone else of Billy? It might just be me.... I first noticed it in “Red Dragon.” Norton’s first scene in the movie just reminded me uncannily of our luverly Scot.

It happened in a flash and fists were flying. He was on Billy faster than anyone could blink and was pounding him into a bloody pulp. In the crowded club there was barely any room for them on the floor, but just enough for a fight. The music pounded through the floorboards, but did not drown out the sound of fists connecting with flesh. It was late, mostly everyone was drunk; they stared for a while before they realized that the aggression was not winding down, and someone needed to put a stop to it quickly, before serious injury happened.

Murmurs rang through the crowd, “somebody do something,” “take it outside,” “call the cops,” “call an ambulance.” Word finally got back to where Elijah and Orlando were dancing and, sparing only the briefest of moments to share a horrified glance at each other, they tore downstairs.

Elijah and Orlando pushed their way through the spectators, shoving people aside frantically, until they were amongst the fight. In a flurry of fists and blood and shouts, they managed break it up.

“Stop, STOP!”

“Fuck’s going on here, man??”

“Bill? You alright? Speak up, Bills, you hearing me?”

“Ow, stop it, fucker, what the fuck are you doing??”

“Enough! Ah! Hey, Orlando, sit on him or something! I don’t fucking know what’s up with him!!”

“Are you crazy? What the fuck did you do to him, Dom?? What’s the matter with you?!?”

“Billy? Shit, fucking shit! Somebody, call an ambulance!!”

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Julia had come to this club since the day she turned 18. It was a familiar, comfortable place for her. The walls were always just like she remembered them, her usual perch at the bar was almost always empty and waiting. The music was usually just to her liking.

But a different vibe had settled over the place that night. A tension hung in the air, though no on knew where it had originated.

When a fight broke out in the middle of the floor, she was morbidly drawn to the sight, sliding between people to get right in the front.

A small-ish man, with thinning strawberry blond hair was flat on his back. What would have been a very boyish and attractive face was marred by blood, and blooming bruises. Red flowed over his teeth and down the sides of his mouth, from his nose, and from small gashes in his head.

Straddling the small-ish man, was an enraged boy, (no, not boy, she thought, young, between boy and man) with a fierce, untamed look about him. He gripped the flattened man by the collar of his blue button-down with one hand, and used the other to box him right in the face, the ring he wore leaving blood in it’s wake.

Julia realized, with horrifying clarity, that the ‘attacker’ was sobbing with rage, shaking as his fist came up after each blow. This was not just any drunken fight, something deeply personal was going on here.

The small man had been gripping the other’s arms, trying feebly to push away (not genuinely making an effort to escape, Julia thought with confusion) but after the sixth or seventh blow, he had gone limp, his arms splayed out to the side, head hanging limply down from where the crazed man gripped his shirt.

It was maybe four or five seconds and one more punch later, when two other strangers to the club rushed into the fight, all but tackling the fierce young man, screaming at each other and cradling their beaten friend (or so she surmised) in their arms. The boy with the doe-eyes screamed for someone to call an ambulance, while the taller, slimmer one with the curly brown locks sat on the crazed youth’s chest and wrestled him into submission.

From their yelling, Julia realized their names were Elijah, Orlando, Billy and Dom. Billy was unconscious, Elijah was hysterical, Orlando was furious, and Dom was.... Dom had been drugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy hadn’t known anything was wrong. Really. He’d been off playing pool with some blokes who had dared to call him short, and then challenged him. Cut to: one hour later, and Billy was significantly richer then he’d been when the night began. Winning’s in hand, he ambled over to find Dom and offer to buy him a drink.

He finally spotted his friend hunched over his drink, back facing the rest of the club. The moment he touched Dom’s shoulder, it became evident that something was.... well, not right. Every muscle in Dom’s body tensed up, and before two seconds had passed, Dom had whirled off his chair and rugby tackled Billy to the floor, knocking several startled dancers out of the way. A pain blossomed in his back and skull as they connected with the floor, an “oomph!” forced from his lungs.

This was definitely Dom’s body, but Dom’s soul was nowhere to be found as he reared back and socked Billy in the eye. BAM, and Billy’s teeth rattled. He was so startled, he couldn’t even resist when Dom grabbed his collar and pulled his head and shoulders away from the floor, and landed his fist dead-on, this time in Billy’s temple. Christ, but Dom was a powerful fucker, that yoga did wonders for one’s upper-body strength.

Disbelieving, Billy’s hands flew to his mate’s arms, clinging, and he tried to force out a sentence, ‘Dom, it’s me! It’s Billy! I know you can’t be meaning to hit me!!’ Jesus fuck, what had gotten into him??

Slam, Slam, SLAM.

Billy started to lose the fight with consciousness as black and red tinged his vision. He made one last pleading glance to Dom, but saw only clouds in his eyes, tears and rage and sweat pouring down his face.

‘Please snap out of it, Dommie,’ he thought as he surrendered to the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TBC

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