#para:oits

[sshardassanderson]

One in the Same || Self-Para

WHERE: Clarington Prison

WHO: Darius Anderson & Bruce Anderson NPC (with mentions of Blaine Anderson & Sebrina Smythe)

WHEN: Friday, January 25th at 1PM

WHAT: Darius goes to have a talk with his father...or to try and convince himself that they are not the same.

WARNINGS: Possible triggers for blood and violence. Mentions of murder, attempted murder, acts of violence.

What the hell are you even going here for?

Swinging his leg over the end of his bike and putting the kickstand in place, Dare removed his helmet and lightly ruffled his fingers through his hair to fix the flatness. Under his breath, he cursed himself out for even considering showing up here, but there were so many things he needed answers to, and despite actively knowing he wouldn’t get them, he still drove the whatever odd miles to the correctional facility to demand them anyway. He hadn’t expected Bruce would even accept his visit, but the follow-up phone call came not even two hours later and Dare decided it was enough putting it off. No Blaine. No additional backup. Just a one on one with his old man, so that maybe he could just be done with this for once. So, after shoving his keys into his pocket and making his way toward the main entrance, Dare tried to forcibly not talk himself out of the visit with every step that brought him closer to the doorway. The closing of the various gates and doors behind him brought about that agonizing little itch that resurfaced in the darkest recesses of his mind.

This will be you someday. Only you won’t be going in the front.

Shut up.

He finally reached the front entrance where he was immediately practically assaulted by security, ordering him up against a wall for a thorough pat-down. Shoes off, socks off, toes to ankles, up along his jeans and lingering way too long for comfort between his legs, in his pockets, then wrenching off his jacket to examine sleeves and pockets as though he’d stitched in a hole to smuggle drugs or something of that nature. Dare couldn’t stop the “be careful with that, dammit!” when his Serpent jacket was violently shook left and right for anything loose that might fall out before he was wanded, then shoved through an additional security x-ray.

You sure you’re not being arrested?

I said shut up.

They know what you are. They know who you are and who you’re here to see. They know—

Dare’s jacket was returned, and he snatched it violently from the guard, stuffing his arms back inside and wrapping it around himself like a damn security jacket before he finally reached a middle-aged woman behind bulletproof glass. The only access to her was the dip in the front counter where Dare was required to slide his identification in order to receive a “GUEST” badge. He clipped it to the front of his shirt per instruction and was finally buzzed into another room where yet another guard was waiting with the most disgusted look on his face. In hindsight, coming in with his Serpent jacket on was probably not the smartest decision, but then again Dare never was one to think things completely through before he made a decision. And for the most part the hallways were clear – it’s not as though they’d be moving criminals in the same space that they would’ve moved guests.

They reached what almost resembled a high school cafeteria – just a litany of tables and such every which way, only every door had an armed officer, and there were no cliquey groups of people sitting with their lunch trays silently judging whatever table it was that you ended up at. It wasn’t empty though, various other prisoners meeting with family, friends…fuck buddies, whatever the case was. But Bruce was alone at a table, eyes deadlocked on Dare from across the room with that cold, piercing stare that made his insides churn. But as usual, he steeled himself against his father’s hold and made his way across the room to the table. Bruce was naturally shacked at the wrists and ankles, arms bound with a chain that extended maybe two or three inches, enough that he would be able to make vague gestures but not enough to wrap the links around his neck or anyone else’s. The ends were looped through grids in the table that bolted to the floor, so no chance of him wrenching free or trying to flip the table onto someone else in the room. His ankles, though bound, were not latched onto anything, but Bruce sat with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

He seemed almost tired – gaunt face, a few new bruises and scratches that really brought the color to his sharp hazel eyes. Nothing Dare hated more than sharing the same color. At least Blaine’s were almost gold, it helped to pull him out of his spiral when he needed something to latch onto. But here…he needed to purge Blaine from his thoughts otherwise his father could practically smell the weakness clinging to his eldest’s skin. Bruce appeared to be thinner too, as though he were on a hunger strike. He secretly hoped Bruce had been bullied and beaten in prison, food stolen, finally knowing what it would feel like to be starved. Of course, the forced sobriety couldn’t have helped his situation either, especially judging from the dark circles under his old man’s eyes. Calmly, Dare finally took his seat across the table, giving back the same deadlocked, unwavering stare that his father tried to penetrate his skin with. It was working, but Dare wouldn’t let on to the fact that he was this uncomfortable. He knew better now.

“Well…you look like shit.” Dare commented, Bruce still unblinking and disinterested in the comment. “Must suck to have people beating the shit out of you every—”

“—Are you still fucking your brother?”

Dare froze, but the retort wasn’t unexpected, and his composure returned a millisecond later. “I’m not here to talk about Blaine.”

“I’m not interested in anything else.” Bruce added flatly, leaning back.

“I don’t really give a shit what you’re interested in. I came here for answers, not for questions. So we’re not talking about him.”

“Him who?”

“You know who.”

“Blaine.”

Dare narrowed his eyes. “While I’m here, you’re not going to so much as breathe his name, do you understand me?”

“Is that what you think? That you get to come in here, new hotshot Serpent leader, and tell me what I’m allowed to do?”

“That’s exactly what I think. You left everything behind, and you left it in fucking ruins. So while I’m here, you get to answer to me for once.” Dare leaned closer, arms propped up on the table at his elbows. “I’m in charge now. The Platts are exiled, and the disaster of a situation you left behind for me to clean up after…I’m more disgusted with you now than I have ever been before.”

“That makes two of us.” Bruce replied as he leaned back in as well, their faces inches apart. “You think you’re hot shit now, boy. But you don’t know the first thing about being a leader.”

“I’ve done better than you ever have.”

“By who’s standards, Darius? Your friends? Those people haven’t seen what you’re fully capable of, have they? Have they seen how much you second guess yourself? Have they seen you lose control? Have they seen the way that you crumble and fold at anything that might injure Blaine?”

“I said don’t fucking say his name.” Dare growled. “What they’ve seen are results. They’ve seen their homes restored. They’ve seen people like you and the Platts driven the fuck out. They’ve seen the good that we can do and the—”

“—Good?” Bruce barked a laugh, spittle hitting Dare’s face in a way that made his skin crawl. “Nothing the Serpents have done could ever qualify as good.”

“Things have changed. We’re not just a band of fucking lowlife drug peddlers. It’s back to being what it should have been. And people are happy with the way things are.” Dare slammed his fist on the countertop. “I’m NOT here to explain myself to you!”

“You want to know…what? About why I did what I did to Sebrina Smythe?”

“Yes!”

“And you want to know why I was helping the father cover everything up?”

“I want—”

“Do you really even know what you want? Or did you just come down here so you could look me in the eye and say that you’re nothing like me?” A wry smile passed over Bruce’s lips, that same fucking condescending, smug ass look to his face that let twins know growing up that they were treading into very dangerous waters. Only now the old man was stark sober, and able to focus so fucking clearly. “I know your every button, son. And I know that whatever good you think you’re doing with the Serpents now is going to blow back in your face, and you will lose everything. You’re a pushover deep down, and you want to know why?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s because of your brother. He’s always held you back from your full potential. But when your mother left, she abandoned both of you to my care. And I’ll be honest…Blaine shouldn’t have survived it at all. I tried to make sure of that. Tossed him into a lake. Left him tied up in the closet for hours on end—”

“I said enough.” Dare’s fingers were clenched, knowing that Bruce was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.

“—And yet you just had to make sure he survived. Gave up everything to make sure he was fed and tended to and had a good life. Is that why you’re fucking him, Darius? Because Blaine can’t even date correctly so you have to fill the role as his lover too?”

The corners of his eyes were practically bleeding red into his vision, and it was all he could do to keep the minimal amount of composure he had left in check before he lunged over the table and killed his old man. He tried to remind himself that Bruce had no power except his running mouth, and that’s exactly what he was doing. Manipulating. Darius was falling prey to it all over again, just like when he was a kid and his father took things just one step too far. Coming here was a mistake. Dare knew deep down there were never going to be any answers. But he wanted to look into his father’s face and know beyond a doubt that they were never the same. That the constant plague of nightmares paralleling the two men, of Dare engulfed in his father’s shadow and moving arms and legs like a puppet on strings were just that…nightmares.

But they weren’t.

He saw himself in the demise of Sebrina Smythe despite having nothing to do with it personally, even if an itch at the back of his head begged the question…Bruce had done this because he’d found out about the summer party. He’d known that Sebrina and Dare hooked up, and that maybe, just maybe, that fucking baby was his. He’d told no one of his suspicions, and it’s not as though Sebrina had reached out to him to let him know. So…maybe it wasn’t. She was bound to have slept with other people around that time. But then why would Bruce be so deeply involved as to help hide the body? These weren’t just nightmares. This was the cold reality.

Bruce’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “You know he came to see me too.”

“Who?”

“Kevin. He’s been worried about his son. Hasn’t seen him in week or so.”

“They were exiled,” Dare answered flatly. “Why should I give a shit where they are?”

Bruce’s shit-eating grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just seems odd that Kevin Jr. would disappear out of the blue.”

“Not my fucking problem.” Dare replied through tightly gritted teeth. “I’m leaving.”

“He sneak up on you?” Bruce inquired before Dare could even stand, the grin never once leaving his face. “Make a pass at Blaine? Threaten you?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Does Blaine know? Do your friends know?”

“Know what?”

“What am I supposed to tell him when he visits next?”

“Nobody’s gonna come fucking visit you, old man.”

“Tell me what happened, son.” A condescending plea for understanding. But all too knowing of what the answer was without Dare saying a word. One in the same. “Tell me what he did.”

“Fuck off, Bruce.”

He might’ve had the leg up if he hadn’t tripped over an empty beer bottle that’d rolled out of the overflowing garbage can. Might’ve stood a chance at getting his hands around Dare’s neck. A flurry of fists and the complete destruction of his trailer. Blood splatters. Dare wrapping an extension cord three times around Junior’s neck until the grunting and choking subsided and nothing but a death rattle in its wake. His hands were still, even as he cleaned the evidence and wrapped the body up in a tarp. Stuck it in a truck, buried him in the damp earth from a recent, brief thaw that the ground was nothing but muck. Deeper and deeper, it never quite felt like enough. He dug so far down it became almost impossible to crawl out of the grave himself, and by morning he’d walled himself up against the entire ordeal. The body was dumped without remorse, then buried up again once more. Another freeze was expected in the next day or so. If it wasn’t found by then…

Dare blinked at his father and stood up from his seat. “Enjoy rotting in your prison cell forever, old man. Don’t expect another visit from me.”

“Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you may have that makes you superior to me, we’re the same, Darius. I knew it when you were a kid, and I know it now.” Bruce squared his shoulders. “Riverdale is Hell, Darius. We’re living in it. You’re living in it. And Blaine is living in it. Maybe one day when someone cuts Blaine out of your life for good, you’ll be able to reach your full—”

Darius leapt across the table and violently slammed Bruce’s face into the mesh metal with enough force to hear the crack in his face from the impact. He gripped what little amount of hair he could and repeated the action, head meeting table before he was wrenching his belt off and wrapping it around Bruce’s neck, strangling him while Bruce’s hands scrambled to try and break free. Unable to lift them more than an inch or two from the table, he was left flailing, kicking his legs out wildly as blood gushed down his face and Dare cut off his oxygen.

“You wanna go to Hell you miserable fuck?! THEN GO TO HELL!”

In some respect he knew that the guards had been on him from the second time he’d mashed Bruce’s face into the table, but it took the force of another two to wholly pull him off and break off the chokehold he’d fashioned with his belt. Unfortunately, it was enough to spare the man’s life, Bruce gasping for breath and spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the laminate floor. The guards wrestled Dare back far enough, shouting something about arresting him, being a “stupid fucking kid”, someone threatening to taser him if he didn’t calm down. Being a man that was hated in Riverdale meant that Dare was able to just be forcibly thrown out of the prison rather than arrested for assault and attempted murder like he absolutely should have been. But he guards merely dragged him out of the room without letting him even glance his father’s way again and bodily launched him back into the reception area before sealing the doors shut behind him.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Dare picked himself up off the ground and tossed the GUEST badge at the receptionist who passed back his ID with a disgusted leer. Dare stuck up his middle finger on his way out, stomping through the courtyard as he stuffed his steady hands back into his pockets.

One in the same.