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He didn’t mean to kill it.
Jake stares at the dog, feeling very little for something that attacked them. He knows it’s not the dog’s fault, that it was only following its owner’s orders to protect the yard.
Still, the leash had snapped and it came right at them, jaws wide and intent clear. Steven’s heart jumped and it activated his fight-or-flight instincts. That alone brought Jake to the front.
His hand shot for the collar and he spun with the momentum, securing his grip on the dog’s head to slam it against the pavement. He was so focused on keeping the mouth from biting down on him that he hadn’t realized how still it went. Not at first.
It was an automatic response to danger, and he hadn’t expected the blood.
Not that he minds it in particular.
He glances up from the dog to see the owner on the porch, expression filled with fear and confusion. Just a second ago, he was a sweet British child wishing a good morning, and suddenly he’s an apathetic freak.
He didn’t mean to kill it, honest. Jake’s not a killer. He protects. That’s why he’s here.
He runs away feeling guilty anyway. He can’t let Steven see the blood, and he can’t let Marc see the body. They both have enough to deal with.
His first attempt to kill ends in failure. That’s for the best, since the blame would have fallen on Marc.
Marc was minding his own business, reading up on something for an extracurricular as he ate his lunch. It’s his first day in high school, but word already got around that he’s responsible for his little brother’s death. He’d hoped that a new school would have saved him the trouble, but it apparently did not.
Some kid in a higher grade thought it was a good idea to grab him by the collar and push him around.
“It’s what you deserve, you piece of shit!”
Marc doesn’t fight back and simply accepts the beating silently. Jake, on the other hand, can’t just stand by and watch.
He takes over as inconspicuous as possible, dodging a kick here and a punch there. Marc already suffers at home, he doesn’t need more pain when Jake can stop it.
Then, the other kid gets gutsy and pulls out a bread knife. The entire lunchroom bursts with excitement and apprehension, and Jake doesn’t react fast enough to avoid a slice on the arm.
He backs away from them, pressing his jacket sleeve against the cut. It’s deep.
He sees red.
If that’s how you wanna play it.
The kid comes at him again and he ducks under the slash to tackle them.
Jake remembers the dog from a while back and grabs the kid’s face. Using his entire weight, he pushes them down hard.
He wants to make them stop, permanently. He wants to make sure Marc doesn't get hurt anymore. He wants to—
There isn’t enough momentum, and the kid sticks out their elbows to avoid a fatal injury. It’s a good thing, too, because Jake is absolutely certain that if they hadn’t, they’d be dead.
A security guard runs in and splits them up before he can try again.
Jake first disposes of a body at age seventeen.
A few days before Marc moves out, Steven goes downtown to find a nice present for mom. He saved up while working as a library assistant and used the meager amount to purchase a necklace made of sterling silver. There’s no special occasion, but Steven’s nice and thought that the long-lasting gift would lift her spirits.
On the way back, a mugger stops him, demanding the necklace. Steven, being Steven, refuses to give it up.
The mugger then pulls out a gun and shoots a warning. Before Steven can even think, Jake is there. He kicks the gun out of the man’s hands, pushes him against the alleyway, and uses the necklace to choke him.
He doesn’t let up until the chain draws blood and the strangled gasps stop.
When he checks for a pulse, he realizes he took a life. A human life.
And it had been stupidly easy.
The hard part is figuring out what to do after. He can’t just leave the body as it is. Someone will find it, and he can’t risk it being traced back to Steven. If he tries throwing it in the river (the only way he can get rid of it for sure) and he’s seen…
Jake tears the plastic gift bag to use it as makeshift gloves. His work is amateurish at best, but it’s better than the alternatives. It takes him an hour to move the body into a dumpster and clean up. He treats the necklace with extra care (Steven bought it, after all) and doesn’t go home until it sparkles.
Until the scent of blood doesn’t linger.
Someone is bound to find the body eventually, but by then, it’ll be hard to track anything down, and Marc will be in South Carolina for the Marines boot camp.
Steven goes through the front door with a gap in memory. Mom doesn’t even look his way when he gives her the necklace, and he doesn’t register that she threw it in the trash can as soon as he let go.
Shooting someone is easier than choking them. Both physically and mentally.
After the training and graduation, Marc is deployed to Iraq. Within the first week, he’s ducked behind sandbags and shooting to kill.
His rifle is broken. He’s fortunate that the bullet went where it did. Any higher and it would have been his eye.
The pressure of the sun, noise, and everything makes him shake. He didn’t think he’d actually be there so early in his military career. Yes, he had the training, but he wasn’t prepared for this.
He’s not ready to die.
His friend, someone Jake didn’t think to remember the name of, pats him with a smile.
“We’ll get through this,” she says reassuringly. “We’ll go home, and you can take me out for a drink.”
Marc nods. She’s the best he knows. If there’s anyone he trusts to keep him safe, it’s her.
He opens his mouth to reply, maybe to agree, when she’s shot in the head.
The switch is so sudden, Jake doesn’t realize he’s there until the blood reaches him.
The death of Marc’s friend doesn’t faze him because to him, she’s a stranger. He doesn't fear for his life because that will cost him.
He takes her rifle from her limp hands and aims at the enemy.
After that, it’s business as usual. He isn’t as good a shot as Marc is, but he has decent aim and a clear conscience. He doesn’t shake under the pressure of taking a life because he’s already done that. The distance only makes it easier to pull the trigger.
His shots are precise through the heat, and when night falls, Marc wonders how he survived.
Marc dismisses a job when it requires assassination. Jake takes it because they can’t afford to be picky.
Life as a mercenary is difficult, especially when they have no connections to people who require their skills. As a result, money is tight, and that job pays big.
Jake gives the contractor his own name, tacking on a “Lockley” because just “Jake” isn’t going to cut it. It’s something he thought up years ago. A play on the words “lock” and “key.” Back when he resolved to be a secret protector, someone kept under lock and key unless he’s needed.
It’s a bit silly looking back on it, but it’s his.
“Jake Lockley?”
He nods and gives the contractor his best smile. It lacks Marc’s charm and Steven’s warmth, but it works well enough. “Who’s the target?”
The job is easy. Jake gets paid in cash and leaves it somewhere for Marc to find. Steven’s still ignorant of what exactly it is they do, and Jake’s fine with keeping up the charade.
He settles on the bed, just as Marc had before Jake took over, and tries to convince himself that he’s not a killer. Just a protector. Everything he does is for Marc and Steven.
And yet, it nags at him. A protector whose first instincts are to kill?
Who is he kidding?
His first job for Khonshu is… not great. Jake can understand why Marc doesn’t want to go through with it, and seeing as how Jake is the next and only option, the task falls to him.
He doesn’t have a gun. Things might get messy.
Jake kicks down the door hard enough to send a group of men flying, none of them armed. Marc typically draws the line at that. If they can’t fight back, he won’t kill them.
Jake has no such reservations.
There’s no need for the suit tonight. His flat cap and gloves are plenty.
The woman in the back, his actual target, tries to flee. She manages five steps before he catches up to her and slams her against the wall.
All Khonshu told Jake about her is that she’s an arsonist who killed enough people to paint her red. That becomes the full extent of every mission: vengeance against a criminal painted red. Khonshu doesn’t offer more, and Jake doesn’t ask.
“Please, don’t do this!” She struggles in his grip, trying to free herself in vain. “I have children at home! Two boys! I’m all they have left, please! Don’t orphan th—”
She’s dead before she can finish, head twisted backwards.
The men block his way out, and while he doesn’t have to kill them, he figures they deserve it too. At this point, he’s long accepted that he’s a killer, and really, it’s a bit liberating.
Still, Jake sends a letter to the woman’s home, bluntly explaining that the children’s mother is not coming back.
When Jake hears that mom died, he doesn’t know what to think.
Marc is grieving, Steven doesn’t know, and Jake?
He wishes it was him who killed her.
Jake leans against the door to Steven’s apartment, wondering if he’s doing the right thing. It’s obvious that Khonshu isn’t going to just let them be, and voluntarily working with him without the other two knowing feels like a betrayal.
It was a whole lot easier when Marc was Khonshu’s Avatar. Jake didn’t have to worry about going too far. Marc had the suit, and Steven had Marc (plus a suit of his own when he found out). He only fronted when there was something Marc couldn’t do.
But now? Marc and Steven have settled. El-Faouly is good for them. She keeps them out of danger, or she helps them through it. There’s no need for him anymore.
And he should be happy about that, but he clings to violence instead.
So while Marc is enjoying the peace, and Steven the companionship, Jake goes out every night and adds another kill to his ledger, knowing that he’s painted red.