Gabe didn’t have to wonder if he could kill. He knew he could.

Could he kill an insane fucker who’s had it in for him for the last fifteen or so years? Hmm, that was less certain.

It was a test, Gabe had come to realise. But not one set by Xero. The direction of his life had taken a drastically unexpected turn which led him here, and he was tasked with facing his demons. Or at least, one specific demon named Antoine.

The day was ordinary; overcast skies, a muggy feel to the air, a wafting of some organically floral scent on the breeze. Not like perfume; like the scent of the ground when it’s wet then heated in the sun.

There was a crowd, slightly larger than normal. The inmates knew this wouldn’t be an ordinary fight, they had scented blood.

Antoine was waiting for him. Somehow, he had managed to get his hands on a cigarette and was smoking it with calculated insolence. Then Antoine turned a mad eye his way and Gabe remembered why he’d hated him. The years had changed nothing. Gabe hadn’t exactly run away to find forgiveness.

The air crackled with inevitability.

He shucked his orange jacket and tossed it before going into the ring, a mere line drawn in the sand, its banisters the wall of muscle and orange uniforms. He looked Antoine straight in the eye, and winked.

Antoine was clearly shocked. Then the brittle madness was back and he grinned wide, passing his cigarette to someone on his left without looking. He stood up to meet Gabe in the ring.

“You’ve grown up, pretty-boy.” Antoine said. “I’ll have to let Drake know that his favorite isn’t quite so pretty anymore.”

Gabe tilted his head, arms still lax at his sides. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“No? You know he likes his merchandise well kept. He won’t like what you’ve done to your face.”

Laughing lightly, Gabe shook his head. “No, I meant that you won’t be around to tell him anything.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Don’t get cocky, little angel.”

“Ha! I thought that was your job. Didn’t Drake always prefer you that way? Or wait, he preferred to keep you quiet by stuffing your mouth with-“

Antoine roared and lunged for him, all muscles and greasy skin and Gabe barely managed to dance away, skidding slightly in the loose dust of the yard. Antoine may have bulked up but he was still fast. Gabe would have to be faster.

He’d lost his chance to land a blow and made sure there was distance again. He reminded himself that this wasn’t a play match, where both opponents would be walking away with a respectful nod and some bloody knuckles. Someone had to die, and it couldn’t be him. Shifting into a stance, he was now done with banter.

Antoine took one look at him and laughed stupidly. “You don’t scare me, Gabriel. I still remember your screams.”

Gabe didn’t flinch. He looked at the ghosts that Antoine’s words stirred up in him and dismissed them, he could shiver and tremble later; now was a time to distinguish predator from prey. He realised, in that moment, that Antoine had never been predator. He’d simpler been a bigger rat in the hole they shared.

“Does Drake still ask you to kiss the mattress for him? Or did he finally realise what an ugly fuck you are?”

Antoine’s face was even uglier now, absorbing Gabe’s words and transforming them into rage.

“No, you’re just a dog on a leash now, aren’t you?” Gabe taunted. “Sit, boy.”

Antoine came at him again, and this time Gabe stayed his ground, dipping enough to come inside Antoine’s reach, hitting him twice in the ribs before backing away again. Antoine caught his shoulder, using his momentum to spin him around in the shifting dirt and slamming a huge fist into his chest. The impact hurt like hell, but Gabe caught the fist before it swung back, using it to pull himself upright. He staggered away, holding a hand to his chest and wheezing. They glared at each other from a distance, both breathing hard, but the moment passed. Antoine was a raging bull, ploughing into Gabe and crashing them both to the ground, before straddling him and pushing hands against his neck.

“Feel familiar, little angel?” Antoine hissed, drool falling from his mouth and landing on Gabe’s chin.

Gabe’s one arm came to pinch at the underside of Antoine's, causing it to buckle just enough to lower his head within range of Gabe’s fist. He landed a solid hook onto Antoine's ear, sending him over howling and loosening his hold. Gabe was up instantly, heart pumping murder into his veins.

He didn’t give Antoine the chance to lift himself. He kicked at his ribs and then again into his solar plexus. Just to be sure, he did it again, driving a harsh sound from Antoine’s mouth. The man was heaving for breath now, and Gabe leaned down.

“Just a dog.” He said loud enough for the asshole to hear over the ringing that must have been in his ears. “Roll over.”

A kick to the ribs. Antoine fell on his back, groaning.

“Stay.”

Gabe put a foot to his neck, cutting off his air. Antoine’s eyes widened comically. His hands seemed to be useless things on the ends of his arms, with no more strength than a child.

“Play dead.” Gabe whispered, looking him in the eye. There was a brief moment of knowing, then Gabe lifted his foot, and brought it crashing down.

The crunch was loud. The crackle and slither of shattered bones beneath his sole would flavour his nightmares.

He stepped away from the corpse, unseeing, and the watchers had fallen silent. There was a beauty in the moment. All eyes saw him as something different then, as if the prize from his kill had been a little of Antoine’s madness leaching into himself. He was something else now, something to be wary of.

They parted for him as he walked away. The guards said nothing, saw nothing.