ANOTHER BOOK OF BS INSTEAD OF SLEEP

Lance Is VERY Protective Um Oh Dear

"Last night, the Sun didn't set, it fell."

this is gonna become two part shit kinda

based off Whit3Heart's idea

Lance screeched Edge's name at the top of his lungs as a portion of one of their rival mafia's base blew up.

He'd been listening in on the mission via walkie talkie, and knew that Edge had been surrounded by members of the opposing mafia, and had probably set off the explosion as his only chance of evading capture or death.

Lance was on the backup squad, parked nearby. He leapt out of the transport and sprinted towards the base. He could track Edge through the walkie talkie, and could tell that Edge had time to run, but not nearly enough.

He finally found the familiar form of his beloved partner and fell to his knees, scooping him up in his arms.

"Edge, darling..."

The ginger was barely breathing and his pulse was incredibly weak. His arm was bleeding heavily, as well as a deep gash in his thigh and a wound on the side of his head. Much of his body was bruised and bloody, and he was unconscious.

Lance hugged him to his body and ran back to the transport, urging them to return to base as soon as possible.

Upon arrival, Edge was rushed to the mafia's Intensive Care Unit, as he was a highly valued member, being by all standards the best the mafia had ever seen.

Lance on the other hand, not allowed to be with him at the moment, sought revenge.

He armed himself with several explosives, as well as the many pistols and daggers hidden all over his body.

He headed towards the burning buildings of his enemies.

As a mafia, they'd studied the base well, and Lance knew exactly where he was headed.

Their weapon stash.

It was Christmas.

They'd severely wounded his gorgeous boyfriend on Christmas.

Having already been attacked, the mafia was mostly unarmed for the night, ready to enjoy their Christmas.

Lance's fury was too great. Every single person of the opposing mafia he passed on the way to the weapons stash died swiftly and silently from a slit throat. He set several bombs to go off in five minutes all over the dining hall, where about a third of the mafia was gathering for a meal, and on the building where all the weapons were stored.

He crept towards the boss's quarters.

As it came time for the bombs to go off, he turned. "Merry Christmas, motherfuckers."

Entering the boss's quarters quietly, he got right behind the man, pressing a dagger to his throat.

"Oh?"

"You fucking bastard."

The man smirked. "Impressive. I'm sure you're the best in your mafia- Oh wait, that was the other one who attacked! Such a shame he won't make it..."

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

The blade dug into the boss's neck, drawing a glistening bead of crimson.

The man laughed. "You'd take such risks to have your revenge for your little friend?"

Switching his position, Lance had his dagger aimed at the boss's chest, gun pressed into his forehead. "You wanna die?"

The boss simply laughed. "He'll never make it."

"HE WILL!" Lance screeched desperately. "HE HAS TO!"

"And if he doesn't...?"

Emotion wrenched control from the grieving blond and he pulled the trigger.

"Monster..." the man chuckled before passing.

Lance shook on his feet for a moment, staring at his blood stained hands, then slowly looking towards the burning building. All the bodies...

What have I done?

He fell to his knees and began to weep.