Hey! So, this little series of drabbles is rather...dark. I'm a very happy, sun stained person, but for some reason I've been very intrigued by death lately. Perhaps it has something to do with having to read The Graveyard Book for school; which, of course, had to become not boring in the last two chapters; life really isn't fair, is it? I don't know how many chapters this will have, so updates will vary. This fic is rated 'T' due to some choice words and some descriptions of death; it's not like Texas Chainsaw Massacre violent, but it's certainly more violent than my other fics.

I hope you enjoy my little macabre exploration!


Riff knows his end is drawing near; he can sense it. Over the years, he's developed a sixth sense as to when a rumble is going to take a turn for the worse. With each shake of Bernardo's silvery blade, it's just one more second of Riff's life going by. And oddly, Riff doesn't really care; in fact, in the dark depths of his mind, Riff almost welcomes the mystical black veil of death. He sees death as his only way out; Riff knows he doesn't have anything going for him like Tony does.

Riff jumps off to the side, his blade knocked from his hand by Bernardo's catlike reflexes. He gazes at Bernardo, silently wishing that he'd stab him, slit his throat, cut his heart out, anything to put him out of the misery of waiting around for death to beckon him. But Action, hot headed Action who also knew that a fair fight wasn't going to happen, pulls another blade from his pocket. Riff knows he has to take it; he doesn't want the Jets to remember him as a sissy who just gave up. No, if Riff was dying tonight—which Riff knows for a fact he is, he is going out with a bang. So he waves the knife around in Bernardo's face, teasing him to try anything. When really, all Riff wants is that damn PR to stab him with all he's got; Riff is so close to death, he can taste the stale air of the ancient tombs long forgotten by the living.

Then of course, Tony, fucking goody-two shoes Tony, breaks free from the grasps of Ice and Tiger, and dares to block Riff from the one thing he knows he can get. So Riff shoves Tony aside, and runs towards Bernardo; the blade clenched in his darkened fist never looked more lovely. He then feels Tony pull him away again; can't the guy take a hint? So Riff stumbles on purpose because it's the only way he's going to able to get what he wants.

And then he feels it. He feels the cold, harsh blade plunge into his soft flesh. He feels the warmth of his blood pour out onto the cement and Bernardo's knife. And he feels the sweet victory of obtaining what he wanted all along. As things begin to get fuzzy, Riff turns to Tony; he lazily hands off his blade to the closest thing he's ever had to a brother. The last thing Riff feels is the blade slip through his fingers before he is seduced by death and falls victim to her beautiful charms.