Devil's Gambit

Chapter 32

"Chester. . . what the hell are you doing?" Harley questioned slowly, raising his hands in an attempt to defuse the situation.

"They said this is part of my rite of passage- that I-" he sniffed obnoxiously, cutting himself off. "I have to get rid of the scum in my bloodline."

Harley stared at his cousin, eyes bugging out of his head and mouth agape, hardly able to believe what the hell he was hearing. "Chester- that's ridiculous. You're with them? How the fuck did you get roped up into a hate group!" He exclaimed.

"I'm tired of feeling weak! Okay? I want to be powerful, and I want people to be too afraid to mess with me!" Chester shrieked, his cheeks becoming impossibly redder in his frustration.

Any words Harley wanted to say died immediately on his tongue, and he was frozen in time, unable to do anything but look at his cousin dumbly. The same kid who threw a temper tantrum when they ran out of chicken tenders, was now holding a gun to his own family's face, painfully misguided, and led astray by a group full of empty promises.

Chester was an incredibly unstable individual, this Harley knew, and he felt the scar on his chin begin to itch with the memory of being shoved into that coffee table. The last place he would want to be is staring down the barrel of a gun held by this kid. It was clear Chester was battling with some intense insecurities, and Harley believed his only hope of getting out of this alive would be to play into those dark thoughts.

"Fine," Harley's breath rattled out of his chest. "If you want to prove yourself, why don't you drop the gun and take me unarmed. Nothing is more cowardly than fighting someone while you have a clear advantage."

The pistol began to rattle violently in the young man's hands, Harley's eyes widening and Chester's face growing even more strained and rosy. He seemed to be having an internal battle with himself, possibly with some other conflicting idea he had been brainwashed with.

"They said: the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must," he recited with a far-away look washing over his face, likely having been banged over the head with those same words again and again whilst never truly understanding them.

"They didn't even come up with that," Harley balked.

"Huh?"

"They took that from Thucydides. Your friends are using a quote from a guy that believed humans are always going to be assholes to each other? Kind've proving his point, aren't you?"

"Shut up! See you always act like you're so smart and know everything and I'm fucking sick of it!" The boy screamed, and Harley winced, shoulders scrunching up as the noise pierced through his eardrums.

"Alright!" Chester huffed, tossing the gun onto the grass a few feet away from them. "They said I shouldn't even give scum like you a chance, but I'll throw you a bone since you're my cousin."

"How sweet," Harley rolled his eyes, his muscles tensing with anticipation as he readied himself for Chester's move. He figured his cousin would fight like a bull since he was built like one too, with not much strategy behind every move, and only capable of charging in a straight line until he tired himself out.

Well, turns out the Academy for Hatred and Bigotry had a decent training program, because as Harley stepped to the side once Chester began barreling towards him, the younger man was able to clip his side with a slight turn and send him straight to the ground with a heavy thud, knocking all the air from his lungs.

Scrambling to his feet, Harley managed to just barely get out of the way from another one of Chester's attempts of grabbing hold of him. The two circled around, sizing each other up while also keeping on their guard in anticipation of a possible strike from the other, but neither wanting to break the careful dance. Feeling much more confident with his ability to talk his way out of problems, Harley took another shot of de-escalating Chester.