Title: The Darkness That Divides
Rating: M - Mature
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Suspense, Slight Angst
Pairings: John/Miz, Hunter/Jeff, Punk/Matt, others
Warnings: Slash, mentions of rape, drugs, alcohol, abuse, death, torture, more possible
Summary: With the criminals keeping other criminals scared of the repercussions of their actions, the only thing the police have to do is nothing. But turmoil inside the gang will cause some other issues no one is quite ready to face... Sequel to The Darkness That Consumes.
AN: That's right, everybody! The long awaited sequel is here! Similar to The Darkness That Consumes, this one is a spur-of-the-moment story, as most of mine are, but will take place a short amount of time after Consumes ended. There may be some strange pairings in this, random characters, but remember: this is a gang, and expansion is key. I'd give you a rundown of returning characters, but a lot died, and I want to save some surprises. But, the members of Taker's gang, and Cena are coming back, for sure. Some new members are coming, but I'll shut up now so that I don't ruin anymore surprises.
Disclaimer: I do not own World Wrestling Entertainment or any of the wrestlers mentioned herein. The wrestlers portrayed in this act of fiction are property and copyright of the WWE and their respective owners.
The light of the full moon shone down unfiltered on the dirty streets below. The silver rays danced between the clouds, casting an eerie sort of silver glow on the parked cars and golden street lights. A homeless man, his head bowed against the cool wind of the autumn night, hands in his pockets, walked briskly toward the alley where he knew there would be other homeless men standing around a trash can fire. He sniffed, turning down the alley and sighing softly in relief as he saw the orange-red hues of the fire.
With three other men, he stood, rubbing his hands together, dancing back and forth on the balls of his sole-less shoes. They were exchanging the same stories they had already heard. Drug dealers and addicts who were asking for money and sexual favors less and less, prostitutes who weren't as afraid of the streets, killers who jumped at every shadow. Someone had come and done a number on the scum of the city. Most of them were lower to middle-class scum, but it was better than nothing. The upper class scum may have been in the clear for now, but it wasn't escaping them either. The papers had begun to pick up the story.
Of course, there was that lingering curiosity within the fear of who on earth these people could possibly be. After all, a group of people who went around killing other killers, rapists, druggies? It was a sort of rebellious attitude that the homeless admired. They chuckled as they thought of what would happen if they were to run into one of these men or women or whoever was doing it.
One of the homeless men coughed. It wasn't an unusual thing at all, so no one paid any mind. He wore a pair of worn, black fingerless gloves, revealing dirty fingers. He wore a torn and ragged brown coat that was pulled closed over equally ratty clothes. His hair was gray, sticking out in various places. He had a black knit beanie over his head, pulled down to cover his ears. He stood at a fire, listening quietly as the other homeless spoke. He rubbed one filthy hand over his filthy face, rubbing some of the dirt onto his already red nose. His green eyes watched the homeless before he sniffed.
"Ah gotta get goin'," he said, his voice thick with the roughness of the streets. The homeless men merely waved him good-bye, and another man took his place. After all, if one man disappeared, it left enough space for another to sit by the fire. "Y'all don't forget about that food Ah managed ta get." This man had brought a ragged duffel bag full of food to the group. They nodded and called out their thanks as the man turned the corner. Once he did, he sighed softly, pulling the beanie off his head.
The gray hair came with it, allowing a fall of black and purple to fall down his back. He frowned, pulling off the false beard and mustache combination, dropping it into the pocket of his coat. He reached under the coat, into a pair of torn blue jeans, pulling out a phone.
"I'm on my way. Get them all ready... I'm bringing some friends along."
The door to the two story house opened, revealing the dirty man. The wind had blown his black-purple hair all over his head and he bent at the waist, shook his head out, and flipped his hair back, allowing it to fall where it would, but keeping it out of his face. Behind him were two black men. One was tall, six foot seven inches, in a pair of low riding Ed Hardy jeans with light brown hiking boots on his feet. He wore a red t-shirt with gold lettering that spelled out 'Salvation'. The man next to him was shorter, wearing a pair of low riding jeans, white sneakers, and a green jacket with his face airbrushed on the back. He also wore a pair of white sunglasses, the dark shades had the word 'Yo' written all over them.
"This way, gentlemen," the first man said. They closed the door behind them, following the white man into a plush living room. A white couch sat against one wall, under a window. A longer, black couch was perpendicular to it, a TV across the room in front of it. There was a gaming system set up, but the TV was off, the controllers packed up.
"Jeff, welcome home."
The voice belonged to a large blond man sitting on the white couch. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a tight black shirt that stretched across his muscles.
"Who're these guys?"
This voice belonged to another tall man who wore only a pair of tight black pants. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest, which showcased an excellent set of abs.
"Thank you, Hunter. This is Shad Gaspard and JTG," Jeff said, pointing to the tall man then the shorter man, respectively. He moved then, tossing the dirty brown coat onto the floor next to the TV, revealing a tight black t-shirt with rips going across the center, all the way down the shirt. A white undershirt was beneath it. He curled up to the blond man, Hunter, who immediately wrapped his arms around Jeff.
"What's JTG stand for?" asked a man who looked similar to Jeff, but with dark, curly hair and brown eyes. He was holding onto a man with olive eyes and black hair. They both wore blue jeans, though the first man wore a white undershirt that was clinging to him. He had apparently been interrupted during a work out. The second man wore a black t-shirt with letters that were so faded, it was impossible to tell what they read.
"Just That Gangsta," said JTG, grinning, showcasing a silver grill over his teeth. The man who spoke chuckled.
"Obviously, the guy that brought you here is Jeff. The man he's sitting with is Hunter. The guy that asked who you were is John Morrison, I'm Matt, this is Punk, the guy with the fedora over there is Miz, the guy holding him is John Cena, and the woman over there is Michelle," Matt said, pointing to everyone in kind. Miz raised one eyebrow, blue eyes watching these two curiously as the arms wrapped around him simply held him there. Michelle looked at Jeff, pushing her blond hair out of her way.
"Why're they here?"
Jeff looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"They want to join, of course. I overheard them talking about it, and then watched them in action. A bit unorthodox, but then again, so are we," Jeff said. Punk looked at them, his head tilted.
"Give us some background," he told them.
"And make yourself comfortable," Morrison added. Shad leaned back against the wall, a grin on his face, and JTG dropped to the ground, sitting at Shad's feet.
"Shad here was born in Brooklyn, just like me. I've been in and out of jail for petty theft and robbery, but it's not worth it, y'know?" he said, watching them. "And I've seen what that kind of thing gets you into. You start out stealin' for those less fortunate, and end up in prison 'cause you jacked a car." He shook his head as though he knew someone who went through it and shrugged. "But I ain't never stole nothin' that wasn't for someone else. Me and Shad, we're like Robin Hood, man. He's Little John though."
This got a chuckle from the group. Jeff smiled, looking up at the giant.
"And your story?" he asked. Shad shifted slightly.
"Like my boy here said, I was born in Brooklyn. I was real bad off when I was little... I was that typical ghetto rat, runnin' around, stealin' and tryin' to prove I was the shit. I got into a real bad spot one day... Tried to pick a fight with a guy that was badder than me. What I didn't know was that he was an undercover cop. He got me for assaulting an officer and locked my stupid ass up. When I got out, I found J, and we been robbin' the streets and givin' to the needy since then," he said. "When we heard about what y'all was doin', we figured you'd need someone with some street smarts."
The gang sat quietly for a minute, Miz's hand rubbing Cena's arm as the man shifted at the mention of the undercover cop. Jeff made a 'hmm' noise before he directed them with a question.
"What do you think about police?" Jeff asked. Shad and JTG exchanged looks before shrugging.
"They gotta do what they gotta do, y'know?" JTG said. "They do their thing, and we'll do ours. I mean, I don't like it when a badge interferes with my shit, but whatever." Shad nodded in agreement and Jeff smiled.
"One more thing... Got any qualms about killing?"
"If we did, we wouldn't have wanted to be in this gang," Shad answered. Jeff smiled, looking at Morrison.
"You wanna put them through the test?" he asked. Morrison shrugged, pushing off the wall, the movement a mere ripple of the muscle as he pushed his sunglasses off his head. Miz held his hand out, and Morrison placed the sunglasses there.
"Sure, why not?" he said, grinning. "C'mon, you two. You beat me, and then you get to see what Hunter and Jeff got for ya." Shad and JTG exchanged looks before JTG stood up and followed Morrison. Once the trio was out of the room, Jeff kissed Hunter's arm and stood up.
"Well, our reputation is still good. I honestly think those two, who introduced themselves to me as Cryme Tyme, by the way, are going to be a good addition if they pass the test. I'll put them to dealing with robberies, muggings, violence that isn't domestic or killing," Jeff said. The group around him nodded. He then turned, facing Miz and John.
"John, I know I haven't given you a set place yet, but I just thought of one. Since you've done interrogations before, you know a good deal about people when they lie, right?" John blinked, but nodded.
"Yeah. I was in the force for a while, so I got pretty good at figuring it out... Why?"
"I was thinking that you'll be the one who interrogates anyone we get here, and I think you should also ask the new guys some questions. Cryme Tyme won't be our only new recruits, but I want you to start with the two of them after Morrison finishes. If anything seems weird, tell Miz and Morrison, and they'll take care of them." John nodded after Jeff's explanation and Jeff nibbled on his lip thoughtfully. "Well, since you're all tired of sitting here and listening to me yap, go ahead and go do whatever. Dismissed."
Everyone except Hunter made their way out, moving to their own rooms to do whatever it was they wanted to do. Hunter, however, stood up, making his way over to Jeff, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist and pulling him back against him.
"What're you thinking, babe?" he asked. Jeff blinked, smiling and leaning back against him.
"Just wondering... It's been so quiet since Mark decided he wanted to give it to me. I'm just carrying on with what he was doing, but I can't help but feel that something huge is going to happen, and soon," he explained. Hunter raised an eyebrow, but pressed his lips to Jeff's neck, causing the young leader to close his eyes and tilt his head, giving his husband better access to his neck.
"You're so stressed, lover," Hunter muttered against Jeff's skin. "You were even stressing about this on our wedding day. I think I need to remind you that you're not in this alone..."
The tone of his voice made Jeff smile, and he turned in Hunter's arms, facing him, wrapping his arms around Hunter's neck.
"Mm... I think you should..."
Meanwhile, somewhere in the dark recesses of the city, the place where not even the haze of drug addiction would allow one to venture, a man stood in the center of the blackened dirt shaped in a cross. He glared at the ground around him.
"That idiot... He got himself killed by a man he said wouldn't be an issue. Well, that's what he gets for not listening... I will get my revenge of Mark Calloway... Even if I've got to go after those children of his..." He paused in his growling to pull out a picture, smiling devilishly at the blue eyes glaring at the camera.
"Especially you, my blue eyed darling... Especially you..."
AN: WOO! I feel encouraged now that I've gotten this out. I hope those of you that are reading this have read The Darkness That Consumes, because this really won't make a whole lot of sense if you haven't. And those of you who read and reviewed and loved Consumes, I hope I'm doing some justice here. I know, a lot of stuff was introduced here, but yeah. In the epilogue of Consumes, Jeff and Hunter were engaged, but they've already been married here, okay? Alrighty then... Bye!
.: TheMizMagnet :.