"we?" peter repeats slowly. everything seems vaguely unreal. he's aware of things in the corners of his vision -- morgana's gun on the floor by a barrel of posters, arthur moving incremental centimeter by centimeter in front of her, caspian with his gun hidden under his jacket. "don patriso and i had a deal!"
"the don's not going to be able to deliver," marco says. "actually, the don's not going to be able to do much of anything." he looks at caspian. "so long as i deliver my end of the bargain."
"miraz," caspian says in a low snarl. "that double-crossing bastard."
"a bullet in your brains and i get the patrisos," marco says. "and then i'll kill you slow, pevensie. real slow. they won't be able to recognize you after i'm done with you. they'll have to identify your what's left of your body from dna."
lucy makes a sharp sobbing sound as peter moves to push her behind him. "oh, yeah?" he says. "are you so sure miraz isn't just going to leave you out to hang? this place is swarming with cops, marco. what are you going to do, kill all of us? kill him and you've got lune on your tail -- and trust me, you don't want to piss him off. kill them and i'm sure uther pendragon will make the rest of your very short life extremely miserable. kill him and it's still murder in the first. kill us -- well, i have contingency plans for that."
"i'll deal with that after i've got the patrisos," marco says, and switches his aim to caspian. as soon as he does, peter throws himself at him, tackling marco to the ground. he doesn't bother going for the gun in his hand, but he and the abruzzis had been -- if not friends -- acquaintances in prison once, and there are certain things he knows.
he'll apologize to lucy later -- she's screaming, over and over again, the sound lost amidst the alarms, peter no no no peter -- but marco drops him onto the floor a minute later, blood streaming down his face from a broken nose. marco doesn't have a hell of a lot of style, but damn if he doesn't know how to put someone down and fast.
"death sentence, pevensie," marco says. "which of them dies first?"
"you," peter says, and shoots him with the spare gun he lifted from marco's ankle-holster while they were fighting. the alarms go off just before the gunshot does.
peter gets to his feet and shoots him twice more for good measure, marco staring at him blankly as the bullets rip through his chest. "bongo," he says, lifting a hand to his chest, and peter shoots him between the eyes.
"let them go," morgana says, her gun back in her hands, and caspian has his piece trained on the other one of marco's thugs. one of them drops merlin on the floor. the other one lets go of corin, slowly, and corin turns around and punches him in the face. "that's for having really bad fucking taste in cologne," he says, then punches him again. "that's for putting a gun to my head. peter, jesus, i'm so sorry," he says in the same breath.
lucy is breathing raggedly, unmoving as morgana and caspian and, belatedly, merlin, go to tie up the three thugs. peter looks down at marco's body and raises the gun again, then lowers it. there's no point.
"edmund," he says. "edmund."
absurdly, morgana's phone rings. she stops what she's doing and stares at it, then gets up and picks it up. "gwen?" she says. "oh, thank god. thank god, thank -- what?" she pulls the phone away from her ear, stares at it like she's never seen anything quite like it before, and holds it out towards peter. "it's for you."
he takes it from her. "hello?" he says.
"don't be mad, pete," is the first thing edmund says.
"i'm going to kill you," peter says. "you fucking bastard, i'm going to kill you."
"that...seems a little counter-productive," edmund says, sounding surprised.
"you fucking bastard --"
lucy comes out of her stupor to snatch the phone from him. "listen here, you asshole," she begins, then pauses. then she bursts into tears and drops the phone. edmund's voice comes from the floor, tinny, "what? what?"
no subject
"the don's not going to be able to deliver," marco says. "actually, the don's not going to be able to do much of anything." he looks at caspian. "so long as i deliver my end of the bargain."
"miraz," caspian says in a low snarl. "that double-crossing bastard."
"a bullet in your brains and i get the patrisos," marco says. "and then i'll kill you slow, pevensie. real slow. they won't be able to recognize you after i'm done with you. they'll have to identify your what's left of your body from dna."
lucy makes a sharp sobbing sound as peter moves to push her behind him. "oh, yeah?" he says. "are you so sure miraz isn't just going to leave you out to hang? this place is swarming with cops, marco. what are you going to do, kill all of us? kill him and you've got lune on your tail -- and trust me, you don't want to piss him off. kill them and i'm sure uther pendragon will make the rest of your very short life extremely miserable. kill him and it's still murder in the first. kill us -- well, i have contingency plans for that."
"i'll deal with that after i've got the patrisos," marco says, and switches his aim to caspian. as soon as he does, peter throws himself at him, tackling marco to the ground. he doesn't bother going for the gun in his hand, but he and the abruzzis had been -- if not friends -- acquaintances in prison once, and there are certain things he knows.
he'll apologize to lucy later -- she's screaming, over and over again, the sound lost amidst the alarms, peter no no no peter -- but marco drops him onto the floor a minute later, blood streaming down his face from a broken nose. marco doesn't have a hell of a lot of style, but damn if he doesn't know how to put someone down and fast.
"death sentence, pevensie," marco says. "which of them dies first?"
"you," peter says, and shoots him with the spare gun he lifted from marco's ankle-holster while they were fighting. the alarms go off just before the gunshot does.
peter gets to his feet and shoots him twice more for good measure, marco staring at him blankly as the bullets rip through his chest. "bongo," he says, lifting a hand to his chest, and peter shoots him between the eyes.
"let them go," morgana says, her gun back in her hands, and caspian has his piece trained on the other one of marco's thugs. one of them drops merlin on the floor. the other one lets go of corin, slowly, and corin turns around and punches him in the face. "that's for having really bad fucking taste in cologne," he says, then punches him again. "that's for putting a gun to my head. peter, jesus, i'm so sorry," he says in the same breath.
lucy is breathing raggedly, unmoving as morgana and caspian and, belatedly, merlin, go to tie up the three thugs. peter looks down at marco's body and raises the gun again, then lowers it. there's no point.
"edmund," he says. "edmund."
absurdly, morgana's phone rings. she stops what she's doing and stares at it, then gets up and picks it up. "gwen?" she says. "oh, thank god. thank god, thank -- what?" she pulls the phone away from her ear, stares at it like she's never seen anything quite like it before, and holds it out towards peter. "it's for you."
he takes it from her. "hello?" he says.
"don't be mad, pete," is the first thing edmund says.
"i'm going to kill you," peter says. "you fucking bastard, i'm going to kill you."
"that...seems a little counter-productive," edmund says, sounding surprised.
"you fucking bastard --"
lucy comes out of her stupor to snatch the phone from him. "listen here, you asshole," she begins, then pauses. then she bursts into tears and drops the phone. edmund's voice comes from the floor, tinny, "what? what?"