Fandom: Blake's 7
Paring: none
Rating: PG, maybe M, I dunno.
Status: New, complete
Archive: Not without permission.
Series/Sequel: Part Three - The Cat Who Walks Alone Disclaimers: They aren't mine. They belong to Terry Nation and the BBC. Mouse, Makaney, Benni, and Troja are all mine however.
Notes: Once again, I thank Hanofer, my guiding angel, without whom none of this would be possible. Thanks.
Summary: Avon's ready to explode, alone and empty, and anyone in the way is going down with him.
Warnings: Adult themes (non-consensual sodomy, nearly) and murder.
Walking the halls of the prison, Avon stood tall. People watched him as he passed; he met all their gazes with a level glare. Whispers followed him down the hallway, that man who knocked down Mad Makaney.
He appreciated the fact that his life had been threatened by his actions, but he wasn't going to be the sexual plaything of some lunatic thug. He would not back down. He would do what he wished, when he wished, and to hell with everyone else. He didn't care if they tortured him, killed him, he could not care. He had nothing left.
Even Vila was gone. Vila, who had been there ever since he had finished his stint under interrogation.
He had killed Blake. He had had to do it, but it didn't stop the rage he felt at himself. He was so angry, at everything, at everyone. He hated the world. Most of all though, he hated himself.
The rage wouldn't be contained any longer. If he didn't release it, he might let out something else, and something else could be far more dangerous.
No, if he felt his rage, he didn't have to feel anything else.
"Psst."
He turned to the voice. The small man who had warned Benni off stood in the shadows. "What?"
"I wanna talk to you."
"Talk."
"You shouldn't pick trouble. Keep away from Makaney and his thugs, and they'll leave you alone."
"I would have left him alone, but it seems like he was rather eager to have some 'fun'. Not my problem."
"It is, though. You have to watch yourself. Let him do what he wants, you'll still be alive at least. You've trodden on a lot of toes; this place is divided into many factions, but his is the most dangerous to every individual. He'll kill you if you don't give in."
Avon smiled, his predatory grin. "Not if I kill him first."
The man grimaced. "Look, I know who you are. I got caught trying to pull off a similar theft, Avon. Please, listen to reason."
"I don't need generosity, I do not need gratitude and I do not need friends. I do not want friends."
He looked down. "Well, you need anything, the name's Mouse, cell 94."
"I will not need anything. I don't need anything that I cannot provide."
Mouse shrugged. "Just remember."
Avon turned and left, rage burning again.
He didn't notice the shadow detach from the wall nearby.
A week passed. Avon stalked the halls by himself, a bundle of rage, violence and fury ready to go off at any time. People avoided him like the plague, and that suited him fine. He kept up the pretense of not knowing who he was, giving away names at random, none of them near the truth.
Only Makaney remained a threat to him. They shared the cell at night, but Avon had trained himself to sleep when he wanted to, wake when he wanted to and not sleep when it was dangerous. So far, it had worked. He had never slept whilst Makaney was awake, but it was starting to take its toll on the technician. He was weary, and often sore from minor brawls.
He didn't mean for it to happen. He had gone to his cell for a while, hoping to catch some sleep while Makaney was at work group. He had just fallen asleep when a hand grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. He was shaken awake as a voice in his ear said, "Hey, pretty boy. Time for fun."
A tongue ran along the inside of his ear. He tried to kick, but hands pinned his legs and another set pinned his arms. He had counted at least four of them by now. "Let me go!"
Makaney ran his hands along Avon's back and over his arse. He snickered slightly and squeezed. "Maybe I'll let the boys play with you, too."
Avon closed his eyes, focusing the hatred in him. Vila, lying dead on the ground; Gan, crushed by the door he had held open for them; Cally, buried in a tomb made of the collapsed building. Blake, dead by his own hand.
The rage exploded as Makaney went to pull off his pants. He kicked free, his foot smacking someone in the face, before making contact with Makaney's leg. He yelped and let go and Avon turned and leapt, his legs twisting around Makaney's neck. "Now, you die. No more second chances."
He flexed sharply and there was a crack, before the body slumped to the floor. He turned and saw Benni looming over him with knife. He had no chance to react.
Benni gasped and collapsed forward. A knife was buried in his back and Avon saw a figure running off from the doorway. Avon disentangled himself and gave chase.
The man had disappeared. Avon had chased him as far as the work hall, but had lost him. He turned around slowly. "Come out, please. I'm not going to hurt you."
"You better not. I just saved your life."
Avon's eyes went wide, and he gasped. "No, you're dead. It can't be."
A figure stepped out of the shadows and opened his arms. "It's me, Avon."
Avon froze for a second, then launched himself uncharacteristically into the open arms. He hung on tightly, tears trickling silently down his face. "Oh God, I've missed you, I've missed you so much," he whispered.
Vila tightened his grip around Avon, hiding his own sobs of relief. "It's okay, Kerr, we have each other now."
****
End three.