Masks | Teen Ink


December 28, 2014
By Brelaw67 PLATINUM, Evansville, Wisconsin
Brelaw67 PLATINUM, Evansville, Wisconsin
48 articles 8 photos 10 comments

Favorite Quote:
My own experience is that once a story has been written, one has to cross out the beginning and the end. It is there that we authors do most of our lying.
- Anton Chekhov

The eyes seemed to be driving through him. He knew that the mysterious man before him did not bring good news, nor did he bring any courtesy with him. The tall, slender figure stalked across the marble floor, carrying a weapon of some sort with him.
He thought that he would be safe here. He thought he could stay here for at least a little while, but it didn’t look as though that was going to happen. That hope had diminished once Clark hit the floor.
He yearned for the chance to see if Clark was okay, but he knew that the man would catch him off guard.
The wind ripped past him, bearing another man. They were both dressed in dark black apparel, wretched black leather coats that cut off at the knees, black military boots, which had seen quite a few battles, the tightfitting shadowy pants, and the worst, the black Venetian masks.
They sent chills down his back, causing his body to twitch.
The masks were a great deal of his fear. He didn’t know it was about those masks, but the black, oozing, spidery veins on the silver black mask had something to do with it. He could just see the tar dripping down like blood.
“Dominic Blaque, we’ve come for you. It is your time to serve like your father before you,” one of the men hollered.
Dominic’s heart stopped, fearing the name that had been mentioned. He had tried his whole life to outrun that fate, and yet, they had found him again. He prayed for the day they would just leave him alone and let him be. His father was the infamous Jet Blaque, the mass serial killer, but Dominic didn’t want anything to do with it.
He had heard the stories of that poor tortured soul, Braelyn Valyntine. It made him feel ashamed, just hearing his last name.
Everyone treated him like the spitting image of his father, but that was untruthful. He was not anything like his father. He despised him.
“I’ll never be one of you! I will not join my father!” I shouted. The anger drawled out of my mouth, acid splashing as the words came out.
Dominic glanced down at the marble floor once more. Clark’s hand twitched. He wished just once, to keep a single friend. Every time he managed to get to know one another, they turned up again.
His mind surged with anger. He could spit out so many vindictive things, he could show the how much he hated them, but that would just show them that he had potential.
The men moved swiftly across the floor, as they always did. He ran through all the scenarios in his head, all the ways he could possibly get away, but he did not know of one.
“The Ring never denies blood relatives. Your father needs another to carry on the business, after all, you are his only offspring,” the man said.
He clenched his jaw, readying himself for a fight. They anticipated resistance from him. That’s why they sent two of the elite.
The Ring had morphed into something entirely different from fifteen years ago. They were almost a ghost organization, with the exception of kidnappings. Actually, Jet had changed the group into business men. They organized events and criminal activity accordingly and did it with precision.
They kidnapped anyone that was of any use to them and wore them out. Sometimes, like they were doing with Dominic, they would kidnap the children, and try to brainwash them into thinking like them.
The only problem with grabbing him was that Dominic’s mother had never loved Jet. She had actually been apprehended from the streets walking home from work. She was supposed to serve as a prostitute for the Ring, but Jet had taken her under his wing. She was beautiful, had the dirty blonde hair, with the mesmerizing brown eyes. Her personality was a bubbly little thing, but that was before the worst had taken place.
His mother had hidden Dominic until he was eleven in a small town of the name Uriel. His mother had predicted that it would be the least obvious place for them to be. She was right, until Jet had come to collect the next set of recruits, Dominic’s friends among them.
Dominic had been in the heat between the attempted rescue mission and his father. It was then Jet had discovered him. Sadly, Dominic had not been able to rescue his friends.
The man leapt forward, trying to grab ahold of Dominic. He rolled to the side, dodging the man’s attack. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated the other man standing aside so he could intercept him.
Dominic’s arm twisted back, a popping coming from his shoulder. He screeched in pain, sinking to his knees.
He could feel the grinding of two bones scrapping together. He could feel the bone pop out of its rightful place.
“You’re coming with us. Jet will be happy to see you again,” the man, twisting Dominic’s arm said.
A tear rolled down his cheek from the frustration he tried holding in. He couldn’t let the anger burst out. It wasn’t right.
His uncle had taught him how to fight, yes, but that didn’t mean he was good at it. His uncle told him that he just didn’t have the fire, and he was right. Dominic didn’t have the fire to keep him fighting. He was too mellow for a life of fighting. He wished that the Blaque Ring just knew that. He would make a terrible ringleader.
Dominic’s head sunk down as he tried to come to terms with his fate. They were taking him and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He was just one person. One person that meant everything to the Blaque Ring.
He stopped fighting the man and relaxed his shoulders. This was the end of it. They had gotten to him.
“Finally you see it our way! Let’s get out of here Spec. 2,” the man said, shoving him forward.
Dominic’s face twisted into a death glare, his blood boiling. He just wanted to crack one of their heads just this once. He wanted to rip them apart and listen to them beg for mercy. He wanted to listen to their screams.
He shook those thoughts out of his head. He wasn’t his father’s kid. He wasn’t a psychopath. Those thoughts didn’t belong to him.
Dominic spun around, listening to the yelps of pain. His heart fluttered as though they were hummingbird wings. A thousand times per second.
“Dominic, duck!” Clark shouted.
Dominic turned just in time to see a tall dark looking man. He dropped to the ground just before his fist knocked into his jaw. The man gazed down at him with a maniacal grin. His dark black hair stood up in peaks. Those dark blue eyes. He had seen them before. They were his own.
That was right. Jet was there. He was there for Dominic and this time he knew he’d find Dominic.
“Let’s go, Dominic. We have a lot of catching up to do,” he said, smugly. He reached down for Dominic, grabbing for his shirt.
Quickly, Dominic rolled out of the way and snuck a glance at Clark. Clark was standing his ground against a tall, cloaked man. He wore the same apparel as the others.
It was a shame his arm was not in the condition to fight. The man had taken out his dominant hand, which made it hard to do anything useful.
Dominic glanced back over at Jet in time to see him grab ahold of his injured shoulder and pull him up. He cried out as the pressure forced his shoulder in different positions.
“Not this time, my son. This time, we take you to your place amongst the family. Your mother would be astounded.” He said.
His heart filled with rage. The adrenaline shooting through his body, even his shoulder.
“My mother hated you! She wouldn’t be proud!” He shouted, finally releasing part of the anger in his body.
He clapped, cackling as he did.
“Good, no, great. You’ll be perfect for the Ring.” He mused. More anger flowed through him, radiating from his body.
“Stop with all this! I’m not a Blaque! You are not my father!” Dominic screeched.
Jet’s eyes darkened for a moment, flickering between anger to sadness. He shoved Dominic forward, pushing him from Clark as the circle surrounded him.
Panic surged through him. The thought of losing another friend to the Blaque Ring discouraged the lack of hope.
“Clark! No!” He shouted, trying to break free of Jet’s grip.
Jet pulled him back, forcing him against the wall. His dark blue eyes glared down at him, forcing him down.
“He is gone. He is no longer your problem. Now, you’re with me.”

The author's comments:

Part 2 of White Out

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