Chapter IV

Chapter 4 of the novel Reapers

"Hey pal, I think you've had a little too much to drink," A new voice sneered across the opening as an unfamiliar young man emerged from the area where the parked cars were. Marielle shuffled around on the ground before pulling herself back up with the assistance of a nearby log. The newest stranger turned his attention to her, his dark wavy hair falling gently into his silvery eyes. "You okay?" He asked, leaning down to examine her quickly before diverting his gaze back to Emery as Marielle reassured him with a light nod.

"Hey! What did I say?!" The silver-eyed boy yelled, jogging over to the drunken imbecile to quickly grip his forearm as he had knelt down to swing at Emery's already bloodied face. "Get off him, get up, come on," He demanded, pulling the frat boy away from Emery by his jacket.

"Who the hell are you? What are you, his boyfriend?! You gonna make me?" The drunk roared, shoving the silver-eyed boy violently, but to no avail. The boy didn't budge. He was actually smaller and leaner than the drunken, overweight behemoth, yet with being pushed with all of the drunk's might, he didn't move a muscle. "I ain't scared of you!" He bellowed, continuing to shove until he finally reared back and landed a right hook directly on the silver-eyed boy's cheek bone. His face barely tilted an inch. The crowd's eyes couldn't have possibly gotten any wider.

The silver-eyed boy simply smirked, leaning in to his innebriated adversary and offered him one simple piece of advice before the show was over. "You should be."

After that, it was like the world had been plunged into an action movie. The silver-eyed boy's hand wrapped tightly around the throat of the drunk, hoisting him easily into the air and driving him powerfully onto the ground in one hard, sickening thud. Not a sound followed from the drunken assailant. He was either dead or unconscious and at this point, Marielle didn't care, just as long as it was over.

"You all have a good show?!" The boy exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air at the on-lookers as they scattered like rats, clamoring for their vehicles. The remaining frat members lugged their fellow brother into the truck, muttering apologies in Emery and Marielle's direction as they left.

"Ezekiel!" another voice called, emerging from the darkness just in time to see the unconscious body being carried away. "What have you done, now?" The voice questioned softly, as another young man appeared. This one also appeared to be very athletic, even moreso than the apparent Ezekiel. Everything about his appearance was neat and crisp, starting with his short, cropped hair that sat rigidly atop his head. His sharp, squared features were balanced by his bright yet gentle hazel eyes. They could be considered calming, even.

"I was saving the day, Cav!" Ezekiel turned, responding to the stranger known only as "Cav." Ezekiel turned, kneeling next to Emery who was hunched over, bleeding and in the fetal position. "Are you alright? You took quite an a*s kicking, my friend," Ezekiel asked, pulling his jacket off to reveal a long sleeve shirt underneath. Reaching over, the sound of tearing fabric filled the air as he tore off the bottom half of his shirt sleeve, balling it up to wipe away the excess blood on Emery's face.

"I'm okay, thank you" was all that Emery could muster as he heaved himself into an upright position with Ezekiel's help.

"Well, you've never been one for subtlety, we both know that," Cav explained, taking a knee by Marielle. "Are you hurt?" He asked, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I'm okay, really. I'm fine, Cav?" She responded in question, unsure of the fellow's name.

"Cavanaugh, and my overly violent friend here is Ezekiel. Forgive us for barging into your business like this, but it seems you were in need of a little assistance," Cavanaugh explained, offering her a soft grin as he rose to his feet beside her, extending a hand to her.

"Trust me, we appreciate it, I've never seen you two before, and clearly you weren't with the Rouler crowd, so, where are you guys from?" Marielle asked innocently, watching Ezekiel as he helped Emery to his feet, keeping his arm around him for support.

"Oh, we just do some contract work here and there, so we're passing through different places all the time, you know. We just wanted to go out and have a drink so we asked around where the fun places are, and ta-da, here we are. Fun Central!" Ezekiel explained, waving his free hand in the air wildly to sarcastically signify all the fun they were having.

"Oh, okay. Here, I'll take him," Marielle agreed, making her way over to offer Ezekiel a rest and Emery some support. "Look, if you guys are gonna be in town for a few days, the least you could do is stop by our bar and I can definitely make sure we return the favor. This could've gotten really nasty and you guys didn't have to help," Marielle continued, offering to repay them the best way she knew.

"Sure, that sounds great!" Ezekiel buzzed with excitement at the thought of an endless tab. Cavanaugh offered a slim smile and a nod of agreeance.

"Will you two be alright? Do you need a ride home or is there anything else we can do?" Cavanaugh chimed in, glancing over the silent Emery with a look of concern.

"We'll be fine, we have a friend whose mom is a nurse, so I'm just gonna head there and she'll get him fixed up," Marielle reassured him, rubbing Emery's shoulder softly in comfort as he let out a soft wince of pain from his throbbing face. "Thank you, again, but we really should get going. He's not looking too good, so. But like I said, please, come by and visit us." She pleaded before turning to head towards Emery's vehicle.

"We wouldn't miss it," Cavanaugh assured her. He and Ezekiel raised their hands to offer their good-byes as the two headed towards their vehicle. "Be safe." He called after them as Marielle loaded Emery into the old Bronco and the faint glow of the tail lights faded in the distance.

"Zeke, what were you thinking?" Cavanaugh snapped, turning to face him.

"Oh I don't know, this weird new tradition called the right thing, maybe?" Ezekiel retorted, throwing his arms out in frustration. "The kid was being hammered into the ground by a guy who probably still eats glue and s***s his pants. Give me a break."

"It doesn't matter. There are rules, and you know that. You're risking a lot putting on these little shows of yours. It's not how things work and you know that. Ryker is going to have your a*s on a silver platter when we get back to base," Cavanaugh warned, shaking his head in disappointment. "But I am glad you did the right thing. Our job is to protect, and that you did. The flamboyance of it all has to cease, though. There are other ways of diffusing the situation."

"Well, sorry Dad. Next time I'll sit them down and maybe we can talk it out. Hopefully by the time they're ready for an intervention with Oprah and Dr. Phil, the other person won't be dead." Ezekiel sneered sarcastically. "Which would you prefer to be? I think you'd be a much better Oprah. Maybe we can give them a car and a trip to Cabo, even."

Cavanaugh simply sighed, shaking his head in defeat. He knew that Ezekiel had understood him, deep down, but he would never bring down the smart-a*s act to show it.

"Let's just go. Everyone's probably wondering where we wandered off to," Cavanaugh suggested. "C'mon," He said softly, nudging Ezekiel in the side to alert him to follow as they headed back to the twin pair of matte black Ducati Diavel motorcycles they'd arrived on.