Let's Crash This Party

December

I don't belong here. Not with these rinky-dink, fancy people. My collar's too tight, my pants too loose, and my shirt hugs my chest in a bad way. I didn't even want to come here but it's not like I can handpick the missions I want.

"Mockingbird, mockingbird, o' come in mockingbird," I mutter. God, he always shows up late to these kinds of things. He likes to 'show up at the good part.'

"Uhm, Mr. Eve?" I look over and smirk. Ah, my favorite pastime at this god-awful party.

"What's up," I look down at his name tag, "Malcolm?"

He blushes furiously before stuttering out, "S-Sir, I have your-your martini-i." He is so damn cute with that stutter.

I smile and grab the martini. "Thank you, Malcolm."

He nods quickly and dashes out of there, hugging onto that serving plater like a life raft. I chuckle and gently sip on my martini. That kid is so cute I can't control myself. From his strawberry blonde locks to his pale blue eyes all the way down to those hips. I want to fuck him and cuddle him at the same damn time, and it's confusing me. Ah well, c'est la vie.

I sigh as I keep looking around for my partner. Mockingbird really doesn't have a sense of time or mission pertinence. I down my martini in one gulp and leave it on the table. I hope Malcolm brings me another one; I technically never closed the tab.

I begin my wander around since I have nothing better to do. Apparently, this is an art gallery walk, which explains all the artwork around me. There's a full range of the art itself; some of its sculptures, others are traditional painting, and then there are the oddballs that I don't quite understand. Other people dressed like me look at these pieces of art and mutter among each other. As I pass through a maze of art, there's this one painting that catches my eye.

It's an odd one; you can't really tell what's going on. I'm slowly drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It's a long canvas with colors clashing against one another. The edges of the painting have some sort of scribbles in a language that I don't recognize. Blues overtaking the greys, reds submitting to the greens, it's a whole mess. Somehow, it all makes sense to me. The colors slowly morph to people, and the background depicts a war of some kind. It's all so… familiar…

"Mr. Eve?" I jump to the sound and quickly turn my head. Standing there is a slightly frustrated Malcolm holding another martini.

"Ah, Malcolm, you brought me my drink," I say as I grab the skinny glass.

He smiles thinly and slowly goes to stand beside me, "So, you must really like this painting, huh?"

"No, I just zoned out and my eyes were focused on it."

"Mr. Eve, if you're interested in this painting you can just say it," he says sassily, an eyebrow raised in my direction.

"Well, I'm more interested in who made it. It's certainly," I pause and wave my hand, "out there."

"Well, to be frank, we actually don't know the origins of this painting. The work itself was made by an anonymous artist that doesn't like to share their name." He points at two other statues to my right. "They also made those two statues. It's weird how this person thinks."

I nod and look back at the painting. "Malcolm?"

"Yes, Mr. Eve?"

"Do you see anything else about this painting?"

He stares at it for a few seconds and shrugs. "I don't see anything that stands out to me. Was there something that you saw Mr. Eve?"

Before saying anything, I paused. I scrunch my eyebrows softly and look around.

"Mr. Eve?" Malcolm says questioningly. Before I could answer, a bomb goes off near the entrance.

I quickly dove for Malcolm and tucked him into my chest. Thankfully, we weren't near the entrance so only bits of dust landed on us. I look over to see masked men with colorful and strange clothing. I sneer and instantaneously lifted the both of us up.

"Sorry I was late, but I didn't want to wait around for the fun part," Mockingbird says jokingly as he saunters in. He's wearing his redbird mask and his armor; the entire outfit always reminds me of ancient Japanese warriors.

"Thank you for showing up late. Again." I dust Malcolm off and check him for any injuries. He looks shaken up and so does the other patrons at this event.

"M-Mr. Eve? What's g-gonna happen?" Those big doe eyes looked up at me as he started tearing up.

I look over at Mockingbird and nods toward the other patrons. "Get then out of here. Let's not cause a bloodbath tonight." He nods and runs around gathering people to the exits.

"Wait, Mr. Eve! Aren't-aren't you coming with us?" Malcolm says as he grips my elbow. I turn around and sigh softly.

"You need to leave, Malcolm."

"And what about you? Are you coming with me?"

"I'll be with you soon, Matty. Just, get out with the others for me please." He nods and sticks to Mockingbird like glue.

It's time to shine.

I quickly run toward the entrance where it seems they have hostages. Thankfully, it's only a few, but still enough to be worrisome. I look around and see that a few feet away is yet another bomb that's slowly ticking down. I don't have enough time to neutralize the men, but I can give a distraction so that the hostages can get away.

I quickly pull the pin to a smoke bomb and throw it in the center of the room. The men shout for me, but it isn't in a language I speak. I take my chance and dive for the one closest to me, quickly putting a bullet in his head. Bullets fly around me as the men start shouting wildly. I smirk to myself as I aim at the next fool, silencing their screams.

By now, there are only two left, and I leave them confused in the smoke to help the hostages.

One speaks to me, "Mr. Eve, are you alright? There's a crazed gunman in the smoke."

"I'm alright, just help the others and get outta here." He nods and starts to help the two women out of their binds.

"December Eve!" A hook sinks into my back and yanks me back into the smoke.

I yelp softly as the hook flies off me. I whirl around and try to see who yelled that. I snarl as I keep my gun to my side.

"Oh, December Eve. You've caused such a ruckus for us," the voice says mockingly as another hook sinks into my back and throws me against the wall.

"I only cause a ruckus because you threaten the people of this city." I grab the hook and yank it forward, hoping to see the culprit. The line snaps as laugher echoes around me.

"I only try to help, my friend. These people need a leader, and they need my help."

"All you do is harm and hurt."

"Oh really? You say it like you haven't done it before." More laughter follows that as the man slowly walks into view.

I gasp softly as familiarity washes over me.

Pierce?

"Ah, so now you remember me?" He smiles sickly as the scars on his face contort. He looks so rugged, so damaged. I try to throw a punch, but he catches my fist, crushing it slowly.

"Ah ah, I get to throw these punches." He punches me square in the jaw before throwing me across the room.

"For years your little pose haunted me," he sinks another hook into me and drags it down, "for years, I was defenseless against your attacks. I had nothing, and you chose to keep beating me down until there was nothing left but ashes."

I sneer and rip the hook out, tugging him forward. I kick him square in the gut and launch him into the wall.

He laughs and wipes some blood away. "What's the choice, December? Are you going to fight me to the literal death," he gestures to the ticking time bomb, "or are you going to be a coward?"

I pant softly and grunt out. "There's nothing more cowardly than beating up an old grudge."

He sneers evilly and screams out, "I WILL GET MY REVENGE, FEBRUARY MARQUESS!" He looks down at the bomb and backs up at me, running out the entrance.

For a moment, I freeze. That name… I haven't heard it in years. Not since Dizzie, not since Niko. For a second, I miss hearing my name be called. As I get up to run out, a rush of memories flood into me. Memories I haven't visited in years. As the ticking bomb echoes around in my mind and as I sprint toward the closest exit, I miss my old life. I miss waking up in Dizzie's arms. I miss how he felt, how he moved and breathed. Every muscle was a valley for me to explore, every tear, every yell, every inch of him was something to explore.

As the bomb goes off behind me and as Malcolm pats me down, all I can do is collapse and sob. Sob for the life I lost, and sob for the life I have now.