Crow
Active member
“Jesus fucking christ, man. The remaining guy flinched away and ran, passing Sam as she stood up. She would have gone to stop them, to kick the shit out of them the way Spork had just done, but she noticed something and stopped. Spork was standing still, their expression blank, their foot on the head of the man who they had taken down.
Sam’s smile faded as she saw what was happening. Even drunk, she knew Spork was about to crush the man’s skull in with their foot. That needed to be stopped. Roughing up the guys who tried to assail them was one thing, a fun thing. But killing them wasn’t. That wasn’t right.
With slow, even steps, Sam started to move closer to Spork. “Hey, Spork. Why don’t you take your foot off his head, yeah? Whatever he’s done, it’s not bad enough to kill him. Just take it a bit easier, okay?”
She made it to their side, and very carefully put a hand on their arm, looking up at them. Why they were about to kill the man didn’t matter. It could have been a lapse in judgment. It could have been the drinks they’d had. Whatever the reason, she was hoping that touching Spork, gently, and pulling lightly on their arm, would make them withdraw their foot. She didn’t want to spook them, with whatever was going on right now.
For a moment, something flashed through her head. A time when she wouldn’t have cared if the man had lived or died. When paying for your crimes didn’t always leave people alive. Forty-one. Forty-one people she’d killed. She swallowed gently and looked up at Spork again, a small smile that their friend wouldn’t see on her face.
“I know that feeling. I know that instinct. But it’s not right, right here and now. Let it go.”