This is for angst_bingo
and is my first fanfic... please be kind and rewind...Title:
Wheels of the Bus Go Round and RoundPrompt:
Blood Loss, Physical Imperfections, Assault, Time LoopsFandom/Pairing:
Criminal Macabre/Cal MacDonald & Mo'lockMedium:
It wasn’t that Cal didn’t like a good fight; he just didn’t like to repeat himself.
AND THE WHEELS OF THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND
Cal didn’t know which was worse, being beat up by a bunch of fiends, the fact that he let himself get trapped or the gnawing somewhere in his cerebral cortex that screamed ‘not fucking again’. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a fight with fiends, but something kept kicking at his bourbon-soaked brain this was an instant replay.
Where was Mo’lock? That fucking ghoul disappeared at the most inconvenient times and then reappeared when Cal just needed a rest to basically berate Cal on his latest ingestion of that day’s chosen mind altering substance. For a dead guy, who caused the death of his family, he had a real holy-than-thou attitude.
Fuck him and fuck those fiends.
Cal reached for a cigarette. They were covered in a warm sticky substance. That didn’t bother him, he’d rescued a smoke from worse, the problem was that stuff was his blood, lots of it. One of the fiends must have gotten a hit in that he didn’t see. He pulled back his coat and saw the dark red stain. It continued to grow. He pulled up his shirt and saw a gash that intersected one of his many scars. He smiled.
“X marks the fucking spot I guess.”
He let go of his shirt, pulled out a smoke and lit it. Yeah, ok, that wasn’t helping the situation, but Cal didn’t care. If he has to die he might as well enjoy his last few minutes. He took a drag, felt light headed and started to fall over. Before he hit the ground he felt the cold hands of his only friend catch him. Mo’lock carried Cal to the stairs by a dumpster and sat him down.
“It appears you are bleeding again, Cal MacDonald.” Mo’lock said.
“Yeah, thanks for the update. Where were you?”
Mo’lock pulled a leather necklace that had a pendent made up of three bones, probably chicken, wrapped in blue, red and gold thread.
“I never knew you cared, but I don’t think it will go with my ensemble.” Cal said and then let loose an unhealthy cough.
“Time means nothing to the dead.”
“Ok,” Cal said and took another drag, “And I should care?”
“This is the third time I’ve found you here.”
Cal looked at his friend and then looked around. He knew that he’d never been here before. He’s brain gave him another kick; ‘yeah if you haven’t been here than why do you know Jennifer scratched her name off that graffiti over there’. Cal turned and saw the crudely spray-painted heart with Jon luvs Jennifer. He shook his head, which only made him dizzy. The answer was at the edge of his brain but he still couldn’t see it.
“Put this on,” Mo’lock said and held out the necklace.
Cal knew better than to argue with Mo’lock and Cal knew an amulet when he saw one. Something was going on and it pissed him off that he didn’t know what.
“Your client, was not who she seemed,” Mo’lock said.
“You had got her husband arrested.”
“And she wants revenge,” Cal said.
“So it seems, and I might add in a most clever way,” Mo’lock said while rubbing his chin.
Cal leaned back on the step and tossed his smoke into a puddle. He turned back to Mo’lock. “What do you mean about time and the dead?”
“Only the living can be forced to relive a moment over again.”
The light went on in Cal’s brain. “I’ve been Groundhog Day-ed!”
“A movie, Bill Murray relives the same day over and over again.”
Mo’lock nods, “Yes but I do not think that Bill Murray had three fiends that are getting increasingly more dangerous with each visit.”
“Right, time doesn’t mean anything to the dead.”
Mo’lock nods again.
“So this woman has done some kind of mojo that makes me get beat up over and over again and I never know,” Cal said.
“It appears that way.”
Cal smiled, “Impressive. I’m guessing that this game will go on until she gets bored or I get dead.”
“I believe that is how it is played, Cal.”
Cal leaned forward. He felt the cut on his side. It wasn’t hurting anymore. That couldn’t be good. He lifted his shirt and he saw that it had started to disappear.
“Fuck it’s starting again isn’t.”
Cal looked up. He was standing by the alley entrance. He brushed his side, no blood and only his old single scar greeted his finger tips. He smiled and turned on his heels.
“Not this time motherfuckers.”
It wasn’t that Cal didn’t like a good fight; he just didn’t like to repeat himself. He walked back to his car. Mo’lock sat in the passenger seat. Cal got in started the car and drove off.
“I never doubt it would not.”
“I need a drink.”
“For once, Cal MacDonald, I will agree with you.”