Dead Man Walking (Part 1) (Patreon)

Here's the first part of the Alternate Universe where MC died instead in that fateful night instead of Viktor! It's longer than I first expected, so I decided to divide it into two parts; both will be released this month 😄

For this story, I'm going to use one of my own MCs, in case some of you don't want to picture your MC being the one dying 😅

PART 2 HERE 

You’re not sure how you even got into this mess in the first place, but you should’ve known that this day would come, sooner or later. You can only run away for so long before the consequences of everything you’ve done catch up to you.

Any other day, or maybe when you were younger, you would have turned back and tried to face them head-on. But now, you have something special—oh, so very special and dear to you—and you won’t risk harming him; his safety is the only thing on your mind right now.

You are running through a maze of deserted and dank alleyways on a cold winter night, and beside you is your son, his little hand is engulfed in your bigger one as you hold on tight. Sasha has just turned ten today and even though this might not be the best birthday he has had so far, you are planning to make it up to him in the next few days during the weekend.

But now, your mind is only focused on getting the both of you out of here alive. The street is deadly quiet, and the only sounds filling the air are both your footsteps and Sasha’s labored breathing as he runs alongside you, trying his best to keep up. For a second, you think about slowing down your pace more or picking him up in your arms, but then a gunshot rings throughout the quiet night and you feel a bullet whizzes past your left shoulder—too close—makes you change your mind.

As counterintuitive as it is, carrying Sasha in your arms would put him in more danger. You’re most likely the target here, not him; it’s safer for him to run on his own two feet. You make a bigger and easier-to-hit target compared to him… and in case you got shot down, he would still be able to run away quickly.

Catching sight of a door slightly ajar, you swerve toward it, pushing it open with your shoulder, dragging Sasha behind you and getting him in swiftly before slamming the door closed behind you. You notice the door has a barrel bolt lock; you lock it but you know it won’t last long. You’ve got to keep moving.

“D—Dad, can we hide here for a while? I—I don’t think I can run further,” Sasha whimpers beside you, doubling over as he tries to catch his breath.

Biting your lip, you decide you may have a minute or two to recover a bit. “Okay, but we need to keep walking, okay?” Sasha nods silently.

Still not letting go of his hand, you walk forward leisurely, eyes glancing around the dim warehouse skittishly. Rows of steel cabinets line the left and right side of the spacious room, leaving a wide corridor cutting through the middle and at the end, you notice another door. That will hopefully be your way out. You begin walking toward it, picking up the pace a bit and Sasha follows quietly beside you.

You skid to a halt as your ears catch muffled sounds of footsteps and talking coming from outside; you’re not sure whether they come from the direction of the door you just went through or the door you’re heading toward. But it seems like you won’t even have enough time to discern it when the door in front of you begins swinging open.

You quickly duck behind one of the rows of cabinets to your left, Sasha waiting behind you, closing his mouth with his gloved hands to try muffling his still labored breathing, gray eyes wide open, staring into your own gray ones.

Not a second too soon, the heavy footsteps—more than two people—echo inside the room. “They must be in here somewhere… fan out.”

You make a shushing motion at Sasha before trying to surreptitiously take a peek around the corner. You see two of them moving to the right side of the room and one person going down the middle aisle. Shit! You gotta move farther from the middle and maybe get to the door by skirting the leftmost wall.

Turning back to Sasha, you motion for him to begin moving silently. He obeys so and you stay behind him, occasionally glancing behind to make sure the guy hasn’t reached your row yet. Sasha turns the corner when suddenly, a pair of hands snatch him up, his yelp cut short as a hand covers his mouth.

You spring up quickly to come face-to-face with the guy. You grit your teeth as you seethe in rage and frustration. He’s holding Sasha up in front of him like some sort of meat shield and it works since you hesitate on attacking him, not wanting to accidentally harm your little sunshine.

“What’s wrong? Come, hit me,” he taunts you, his grin infuriating. Suddenly, his face distorts in pain as he screams in pain, letting go of Sasha. “You little shit! My hand!” It seems like Sasha has bitten down hard on his hand and as he lands on his feet, you don’t waste another second and tackle the man head-on.

“Run, Sasha!” you yell at him before focusing on the guy under you. You’re taller and bigger than he is, so it doesn’t take too much effort to overpower him. All the instincts you’ve spent years training and perfecting rush back through your muscle as your body moves; it’s like riding a bicycle again after a long time.

You pummel him in the face over and over again, frustration and anger powering your punches, and you feel his nose and facial bone breaking under your gloved knuckles. He might have been knocked out cold after the first two punches but you are still not satisfied. How dare he try to use your precious baby as a meat shield?!

A rush of footsteps coming toward you snaps you out of your rage and you just notice that the guy’s face is totally ruined and unrecognizable; he may be dying or may already even be dead. You used to care about not killing people back when you were a vigilante, but right now, you just can’t bring yourself to care, and you gotta admit, it feels so much better and freeing.

You quickly pat his body down and almost laugh in relief as you find a pistol. Pulling it out, you make sure it’s loaded as you rack the slide before grabbing as many spare magazines as you can and stashing them in your coat pockets. The pistol is nothing special, it’s a common M1991, but it’s reliable and good enough for now. A part of you is cursing you for not keeping the Deagles that your father gave to you years ago; how useful they must’ve been now.

Standing back up, you move just in time for the first shot, ducking behind the nearest steel cabinet. A few more bullets ricochet against the solid cabinet you take cover behind. You hear one of the guns click and you take the chance, swinging from behind your cover and opening fire at the gunman who is in the middle of reloading his magazine.

The bullets hit him in the head and then on the torso, one of the missing shots hit the goon behind him in the thigh. She roars in pain as she stumbles behind cover, blood dripping down onto the concrete floor.

The other guy is equipped with a knife instead of a gun and is not crazy enough to try rushing someone with a gun. Instead, he also ducks behind another cover before you can aim at him properly. At least now, you’re the one watching, waiting, and hunting for them.

You stride up carefully toward them, but before you can reach them, you see a small thing get thrown near your feet. You quickly scramble back, but it’s a bit too late as a red gas puffs out of it, rapidly spreading. Fuck! It’s nullifying gas! How did they even get their hands on it?

You quickly bring up your scarf to cover your nose and mouth, but you know you already inhaled enough by accident. You can feel it coursing through your body, weakening it and you won’t be able to replicate a power for quite a while. Thankfully, your power is not the only thing you totally depend on, thanks to your father’s rigid combat training.

Moving out of the red cloud, you double over and cough as you try to inhale as much clean air as you can.

“D—Dad?” you hear a quiet voice calling out in front of you. You glance up to see Sasha standing past the body of the first guy, inching toward you. You put up your hand to stop him.

“Sasha, don’t come closer! The gas is dangerous for you,” you tell him urgently, motioning him to move back toward where he came from.

Suddenly, his eyes go wide as he yells out, “Dad! Behind you—”

You turn around just in time to get tackled to the ground. The gun you were holding is knocked out of your hand and your blood freezes as you fear the pistol going off accidentally and the stray bullet hitting Sasha, but thankfully, it doesn’t go off.

The guy on top of you brings down the knife he is holding down toward your face and your hands stop it midway reflexively. Again, the guy is not as big or tall as you are—and not a lot of people are—but with muscles weakened from the gas, you’re having a hard time bucking him off while also focusing on stopping him from stabbing you.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you try to rack your mind to find anything you can do to get out of this deadlock. Suddenly, a shot rings out, blood splatters, and the guy slumps down on you, limp and dead hands dropping the knife harmlessly. You shove him off you before quickly standing up and turning around.

Sasha is standing there, little shaking hands still gripping the pistol tightly, knuckles white and eyes wide. You realized that your son has just killed his first person ever, and he is younger than you were. And he did that to save you. You feel your heart bleeding out for him but there’s nothing you can do but lend him support.

He lowers the gun as you walk closer, looking down at his feet, maybe ashamed of himself or fearing that you’ll scold him. Instead, you ruffle his hair fondly and he looks back up at you, eyes tearing up. You smile down at him before crouching down to his eye level and taking the gun from his hand gently.

“Thank you for helping me, Sasha…” you say simply for now. There’ll be more time to talk about it later on. He just nods vigorously, and you can see that he’s feeling better and relieved now.

Taking his hand in yours, you lead him toward the middle aisle and you pass the wounded goon you accidentally shot in the thigh previously. She panics as she meets your gaze and reaches into her jacket pocket for something. Pulling Sasha behind you, you fire a shot straight through her forehead, not wanting to take a risk. Not wasting another second, you usher Sasha away, being careful to make sure he won’t see her body slumping onto the cold concrete floor behind you.

Sasha’s and your pair of footsteps echo in the empty warehouse as you stride toward the door briskly, constantly worried about the rest of the attackers who were hounding you before you get in here. Arriving at the door, you open it slowly before peeking out.

Your heart sinks a bit as you’re once again face-to-face with another equally dingy and dank alleyway. You curse softly under your breath, but before you can stop and truly think about other options, you hear loud metallic bangs ring out as the other door is getting kicked in.

You and Sasha quickly slip out of the warehouse and take a turn to the left, hoping it will circle back to the street where you parked your car. Half a minute later, you hear the steel door you came out of bang open.

“There! I see them!” one guy yells out and a flurry of footsteps follows.

Shit! You hear Sasha heightening his pace, pushing through his tiredness with renewed vigor. You guide him so he runs in front of you, making sure he’s covered by your body in case your pursuers decide to open fire.

Your heart sinks even lower when you see a brick wall instead of an open street. It’s a dead end, and it might as well be your tomb. If you want your son to live, then you’ll have to fight until the last drop of your blood, even if you may end up dead… You might have had it coming for a while now, but not Sasha… not him. He still has his entire life ahead of him and what you did in the past has nothing to do with him.

Glancing around in panic, you notice a big dumpster. It’s not the best cover, but if it’s filled, then it’d be good enough to stop the bullets. You usher Sasha to hide behind it. “Sasha, listen to me. Stay here, okay? Don’t move until the sounds of gunfire have died off and you hear them moving away.”

“B—But… How about you, Dad?”

You crouch down, hug him, and then kiss his forehead. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine…” you lie through your teeth, your voice close to breaking. Sasha holds on to your coat tightly with his little grubby hands, not wanting to let go… and you also don’t want to ever leave him behind if you can. But nothing is too big to sacrifice if it’ll ensure that he’ll get out of here alive, even your own life. You know you’ll willingly exchange your life for his in a blink of an eye if it’s even a choice.

Prying his hands off you with a difficulty, you ruffle his hair one last time before exchanging the half-spent magazine with a fresh one. You half-crouch behind another dumpster on the rightmost side of the alley. The plan is for you to make the first move as soon as they are within your range, and blast as many as you can before diving behind cover again. And repeat again.

Preparing for the first poor guy to step into your range, you rack the slide of your pistol to chamber a round, body taut like a bow as you prepare yourself to jump out of cover. You hear the thunder of footsteps getting louder; you peek from behind the dumpster. Any second now… Three… Two… One… Now!

You fire your pistol at the first guy and the bullet hits him straight in the head. Looks like you’ve still got it after all these years. Jumping out, you risk being open to fire, but you are currently catching them by surprise and you’re going to take full advantage of that. You trust your guts when it tells you that none of these goons will be good enough to hit you with a shot when they’re scrambling to not get shot themselves, especially in such dim lighting like this.

You blast as many times and as accurately as you can and you see two more drop dead as the bullets hit their torso, the other three quickly scramble out of your line of fire—well, as far as they can scramble in the alleyway—ducking down while pulling out their own pistols.

One of them pulls out something else instead and throws it in your direction. It’s a smoke grenade. It puffs out, quickly covering the area around you.

You cough and try to dive quickly behind cover but then you feel a searing pain tear through your right thigh and another one on your left shoulder. You stumble to the ground; there’s no way anybody can shoot that accurately with you shrouded in smoke… Unless they’re an ability user.

Fuck! You’re lying here bleeding out and there are still three of them. Stand up, Viktor. You have to do it for Sasha…

Part 2