Fisk shoved his way past the belligerent fool as he made his way outside. Yeah, laugh it up tubs. Breath a sigh of relief, Stokes. Enjoy your time left, what little you got.
There was silence.
Then there was the rattle of a spray can, followed by the telltale *hiss tsst tsst tsst.*
((King of Hearts continued elsewhere.))
Feeble Cursed One!
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
“No shit. Guy’s a fucking nutjob.”
Junji’s timing had been coincidental rather than deliberate, but he wasn’t going to admit to that. Stokes was the first person who’d actually been happy to see him since, well, since Stokes. Being greeted with kindness rather than hostility or apathy was a welcome change of pace.
He hovered in front of the counter, trying not to let the warm feeling show too much in his cool demeanour. He fiddled with this and that, picking things up only to put them back down, but took a lot more care not to leave anything out of place. He watched Stokes throughout, trying to get a read on her mood. Beyond picking up when people were irritated, it was never his strong point.
“So, you have to deal with a lot of guys like that? Hope you’re keeping a gun under that counter.”
Junji’s timing had been coincidental rather than deliberate, but he wasn’t going to admit to that. Stokes was the first person who’d actually been happy to see him since, well, since Stokes. Being greeted with kindness rather than hostility or apathy was a welcome change of pace.
He hovered in front of the counter, trying not to let the warm feeling show too much in his cool demeanour. He fiddled with this and that, picking things up only to put them back down, but took a lot more care not to leave anything out of place. He watched Stokes throughout, trying to get a read on her mood. Beyond picking up when people were irritated, it was never his strong point.
“So, you have to deal with a lot of guys like that? Hope you’re keeping a gun under that counter.”
"Luckily he's the first."
Stokes, by way of answer, then took her hands out from underneath the counter, empty palms upturned, and shrugged.
Yeah.
Really would have been good to get more protection by the time the threatening dude decided to show up.
Junji was moving things around without much direction, kind of a nervous fiddling around when you had busy hands but not much to do with them. He did return them to the right spots. Stokes appreciated it.
Seeing him was more of a relief than she'd expected, and the surprise was enough for a spike of guilt. Maybe she could have said some different things back when he first rocked up. Maybe she could have kept him here. Could be that Stokes had taken the easy option by keeping him at arm's length, when there was the opportunity to try and ride out the storm, screw the game, try and come up with something spectacular.
She knew her own logic, but it didn't make for a good second read.
"You need someplace to rest? Plenty space to take a load off, if you want. Junior's still around, but he's not getting in the way."
Stokes, by way of answer, then took her hands out from underneath the counter, empty palms upturned, and shrugged.
Yeah.
Really would have been good to get more protection by the time the threatening dude decided to show up.
Junji was moving things around without much direction, kind of a nervous fiddling around when you had busy hands but not much to do with them. He did return them to the right spots. Stokes appreciated it.
Seeing him was more of a relief than she'd expected, and the surprise was enough for a spike of guilt. Maybe she could have said some different things back when he first rocked up. Maybe she could have kept him here. Could be that Stokes had taken the easy option by keeping him at arm's length, when there was the opportunity to try and ride out the storm, screw the game, try and come up with something spectacular.
She knew her own logic, but it didn't make for a good second read.
"You need someplace to rest? Plenty space to take a load off, if you want. Junior's still around, but he's not getting in the way."
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
Junji was glad for the offer for somewhere to take a load of. It was as if Stokes suggesting that he was tired had made all the fatigue from the past few days hit him like a truck. A place to put his head down, and his best friend there with him, was a luxury he hadn’t really given any thought to until now.
Junior, whom Junji assumed was Chris, could just stay out of their way.
“And if anyone does give you shit while I’m here, don’t worry.” he grinned, as much as he could muster enthusiasm still. “I’m still packing.”
Junji was glad for the offer for somewhere to take a load of. It was as if Stokes suggesting that he was tired had made all the fatigue from the past few days hit him like a truck. A place to put his head down, and his best friend there with him, was a luxury he hadn’t really given any thought to until now.
Junior, whom Junji assumed was Chris, could just stay out of their way.
“And if anyone does give you shit while I’m here, don’t worry.” he grinned, as much as he could muster enthusiasm still. “I’m still packing.”
"Straight badass."
That one was dead before it even made it out of her brain, let alone off her tongue. So hollow it wrapped back around to being full of it.
"Aright, drop your stuff wherever."
That one was dead before it even made it out of her brain, let alone off her tongue. So hollow it wrapped back around to being full of it.
"Aright, drop your stuff wherever."
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
((Chris Tyrell continued from What can I fix you?))
So long? Bon revoir? Until we meet again! The duffel bag’s zip caught on the extra set of clothes, much to Chris’s annoyance. After a few more tries of the same slapstick routine of him trying to get it open, Chris grew tired of the sketch and thought that he didn’t need to zip things up completely anyways. Really, what was the worst that was going to happen?
He sat in an upstairs bathroom, barely hearing the commotion of a trade deal, going right or wrong. Whatever. He sat on the sink, memorising his line, saying his goodbyes, but he felt empty without an audience.
“And with all that said, I think it’s best if I took some unpaid leave for a little bit, you can handle that right?”
Well, the camera made for a good audience as well, he supposed. He smiled, tried to imagine it was dad watching or something. It was gone by the time he came downstairs, clean off like one does with makeup at the end of a show.
But the show had just begun. Oas it already ended? Which part was he in? Who was he playing again? The shopkeeper’s assistant? Lame. No internet cool guy that girls fawned over were assistants ever. Was he going to die? Maybe. Eh.
Was Chris thinking through things properly? No. He should give it some time. Oh, he didn’t care. Whatever. Too hard to think.
Okay, now, say it together! ‘Stokes, I have to have a little chat with you!’ (Again.)
“The fuck happened while I was in the bathroom. Wasn’t you. Yeah, it wasn’t. I mean. I heard an asshole, hadn’t smelt one until now.”
Chris only stopped by them for a few moments, before slowly walking his fingers along the supplies, chuckling to himself to some inside joke he told himself. Did his voice always sound so off however? Seriously, even with the cipper tone, Chris could hear the offness in his voice and face. Did the others notice too, probably.
His duffel bag was filled, neatly packed. Over his shoulder as if he was going to head out for a late night’s jog.
So long? Bon revoir? Until we meet again! The duffel bag’s zip caught on the extra set of clothes, much to Chris’s annoyance. After a few more tries of the same slapstick routine of him trying to get it open, Chris grew tired of the sketch and thought that he didn’t need to zip things up completely anyways. Really, what was the worst that was going to happen?
He sat in an upstairs bathroom, barely hearing the commotion of a trade deal, going right or wrong. Whatever. He sat on the sink, memorising his line, saying his goodbyes, but he felt empty without an audience.
“And with all that said, I think it’s best if I took some unpaid leave for a little bit, you can handle that right?”
Well, the camera made for a good audience as well, he supposed. He smiled, tried to imagine it was dad watching or something. It was gone by the time he came downstairs, clean off like one does with makeup at the end of a show.
But the show had just begun. Oas it already ended? Which part was he in? Who was he playing again? The shopkeeper’s assistant? Lame. No internet cool guy that girls fawned over were assistants ever. Was he going to die? Maybe. Eh.
Was Chris thinking through things properly? No. He should give it some time. Oh, he didn’t care. Whatever. Too hard to think.
Okay, now, say it together! ‘Stokes, I have to have a little chat with you!’ (Again.)
“The fuck happened while I was in the bathroom. Wasn’t you. Yeah, it wasn’t. I mean. I heard an asshole, hadn’t smelt one until now.”
Chris only stopped by them for a few moments, before slowly walking his fingers along the supplies, chuckling to himself to some inside joke he told himself. Did his voice always sound so off however? Seriously, even with the cipper tone, Chris could hear the offness in his voice and face. Did the others notice too, probably.
His duffel bag was filled, neatly packed. Over his shoulder as if he was going to head out for a late night’s jog.
Junji sensed Stokes fatigue. That was fine, he could relate. All of a sudden, in the safety of a friend’s company, exhaustion really was hitting him like a wave lapping against the side of the boat.
He migrated further into the resteraunt. He passed by Junior, whom he opted to not acknowledge. He also didn’t flip him off or shoot him in the leg, so it was nicer than he usually was. Chris hadn’t killed Stokes, so Junji guessed he owed him that much. He didn’t pay much mind to the duffel bag full of unknowns. As long as it didn’t contain a gun he was about to unleash, it was none of Junji’s business. He kept his hand on his own pistol until the coast was clear, all the same.
Watching the conversation from a distance, he found a corner chair to settle into. He would’ve loved to put his feet up on a table and whittle with a knife, just to complete the look, but he had no energy left for childish games. By the time he was completely sat down, he could already feel his eyes starting to droop, the way an older man would after a long day at work.
He migrated further into the resteraunt. He passed by Junior, whom he opted to not acknowledge. He also didn’t flip him off or shoot him in the leg, so it was nicer than he usually was. Chris hadn’t killed Stokes, so Junji guessed he owed him that much. He didn’t pay much mind to the duffel bag full of unknowns. As long as it didn’t contain a gun he was about to unleash, it was none of Junji’s business. He kept his hand on his own pistol until the coast was clear, all the same.
Watching the conversation from a distance, he found a corner chair to settle into. He would’ve loved to put his feet up on a table and whittle with a knife, just to complete the look, but he had no energy left for childish games. By the time he was completely sat down, he could already feel his eyes starting to droop, the way an older man would after a long day at work.
At the end of the day, wasn't it just gonna come back to what she decided right at the start?
Sure, the wheels would have come off and the ride would have set on fire, but there were worse ways to spend SOTF than tooling around with your best friend and dying.
The store... what was the exit strategy?
Stokes'd avoided answering that. It was always just get far with plan. Then... then have got far with plan.
Knowing the answers didn't mean knowing the answers.
She glanced at Chris, watching him hover there.
"...going someplace?"
Sure, the wheels would have come off and the ride would have set on fire, but there were worse ways to spend SOTF than tooling around with your best friend and dying.
The store... what was the exit strategy?
Stokes'd avoided answering that. It was always just get far with plan. Then... then have got far with plan.
Knowing the answers didn't mean knowing the answers.
She glanced at Chris, watching him hover there.
"...going someplace?"
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
Show time. The set was a counter of crackers he was hugging, a chair, definition of a poor man's stage. The audience was a minor character, and the main actor was a teenager who numbly acknowledged he was stretching this stand up act a little too long.
And jokes like that gets stale, you know!
"....you won't be missing the mint lifesavers, right? I mean, believe me, seriously, it's nevvvveeer going to sell, my supermarket discounts them all the time and it's always still in boxes!"
Chris brightly smiled a showman's smile at Stokes, packing the lifesavers HE contributed into his duffel bag. Now, time for the punchline he had practiced meticulously in the mirror, while he was procrastinating in the bathroom. He walked past the shopkeeper and spun his body to the other side of the counter.
"....."
She could wait a little, right? Chris looked at the sad little collection, before finally slipping his fan service clothes into his bag as well.
"So...."
Okay, so maybe Stokes was kinda some ambitiousless shopkeeper who would rather play the NPC then to the camera. He thought slowly. Fair enough, it wasn't Chris's thing, he absolutely hated the camera as well, and it was definitely a better idea to do stuff like this then risk dying trying to gun down gangs.
"I figured I've been bored sitting around all day selling spoons, don't worry, I'll be back, but I was thinking then rather be held back, I might as well put myself to my full potential!"
A wink at the camera, accompanied by a smile. A 'subtle' tell to the audience that he was just kidding! Of course he was leaving, he was finished with the script after all! He laughed, and then, for some reason, stopped, despite the next directions being to leave for the cruise ship. Chris felt something slip out, low-pitched, low energy.
"Stokes. Are you going to be alright managing the store without me?"
And jokes like that gets stale, you know!
"....you won't be missing the mint lifesavers, right? I mean, believe me, seriously, it's nevvvveeer going to sell, my supermarket discounts them all the time and it's always still in boxes!"
Chris brightly smiled a showman's smile at Stokes, packing the lifesavers HE contributed into his duffel bag. Now, time for the punchline he had practiced meticulously in the mirror, while he was procrastinating in the bathroom. He walked past the shopkeeper and spun his body to the other side of the counter.
"....."
She could wait a little, right? Chris looked at the sad little collection, before finally slipping his fan service clothes into his bag as well.
"So...."
Okay, so maybe Stokes was kinda some ambitiousless shopkeeper who would rather play the NPC then to the camera. He thought slowly. Fair enough, it wasn't Chris's thing, he absolutely hated the camera as well, and it was definitely a better idea to do stuff like this then risk dying trying to gun down gangs.
"I figured I've been bored sitting around all day selling spoons, don't worry, I'll be back, but I was thinking then rather be held back, I might as well put myself to my full potential!"
A wink at the camera, accompanied by a smile. A 'subtle' tell to the audience that he was just kidding! Of course he was leaving, he was finished with the script after all! He laughed, and then, for some reason, stopped, despite the next directions being to leave for the cruise ship. Chris felt something slip out, low-pitched, low energy.
"Stokes. Are you going to be alright managing the store without me?"
From outside, the occupants of the floating restaurant heard the telltale synths of an idie pop song begin to play, and grow louder as it grew closer. It grew louder still as the volume was cranked up to 11, bass rattling the windows.
Better choice of music than Party in The USA, wouldn't you agree?
((The King of Hearts returned with friends.))
I got in a fight~
I was indisposed~
"STOOOOOOOOKES!" Fisk yelled over the booming, uh, boombox. "I WANNA TALK TO THE MAAA~AAAANAGER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT! I BROUGHT THE BEEEEETER BUISNEEESS BURRREEEAAAUU WITH MEEEEE!" A little humor goes a long way to make the ultraviolence more palatable for weaker stomachs. Makes it more memorable too.
But I'm only a man~
And I do what I can~
"COME ON OUT, LET'S TALK THIS OUT! LIKE BUISNESSMEN AND BUISNESSWOMEN! I'M FLEXIBLE, LET'S HASH SOMETHING OUT!" He paused, dropping his hook spear on his foot, as he began cupping a hand over his ear, as if trying to hear inside the building through twenty paces away, as if GRIMES wasn't blaring in his other ear. He put his free hand on his hip.
I got friends in high places, I get out for free~
I got in a fight~
BUT THEY DON'T KNOW ME~
"I'LL MAKE YOU A DEAL! YOU GOT UNTIL THE BEAT DROPS TO COME OUTSIDE AND TALK! ALL OF YOU!" He knew they wouldn't. He hoped for it too, the only reason he added that part was feigned civility. As if he needed to justify himself to the viewer. They already told him 'no' once, that sealed their fate, but he had a mask to uphold. He hoped they chose 'no' again. He'll show them what happens when you tell Fisk 'no'.
Coz I'm only a man~
I do what I can~
They had about ten seconds to make their choice. He knew what it was going to be. He was excited, anticipating for it.
"IF YOU DON'T COME OOOOWWW-OUUUT; THEN WE'RE GONNA HAVE TO COOOOOME IIIINNNNN-HIIINNN~" His voice grew shrill as he did his best to match the music's volume. Drama club, musicals, all great for the pipes. He turned his head to his compatriots behind him, and gave them the biggest squinty dead-eyed teeth barred Tom Cruise grin behind his painted one.
B-E-H-A-V-E arrest us~
Italiana mobster looking so precious, uh~
Better choice of music than Party in The USA, wouldn't you agree?
((The King of Hearts returned with friends.))
I got in a fight~
I was indisposed~
"STOOOOOOOOKES!" Fisk yelled over the booming, uh, boombox. "I WANNA TALK TO THE MAAA~AAAANAGER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT! I BROUGHT THE BEEEEETER BUISNEEESS BURRREEEAAAUU WITH MEEEEE!" A little humor goes a long way to make the ultraviolence more palatable for weaker stomachs. Makes it more memorable too.
But I'm only a man~
And I do what I can~
"COME ON OUT, LET'S TALK THIS OUT! LIKE BUISNESSMEN AND BUISNESSWOMEN! I'M FLEXIBLE, LET'S HASH SOMETHING OUT!" He paused, dropping his hook spear on his foot, as he began cupping a hand over his ear, as if trying to hear inside the building through twenty paces away, as if GRIMES wasn't blaring in his other ear. He put his free hand on his hip.
I got friends in high places, I get out for free~
I got in a fight~
BUT THEY DON'T KNOW ME~
"I'LL MAKE YOU A DEAL! YOU GOT UNTIL THE BEAT DROPS TO COME OUTSIDE AND TALK! ALL OF YOU!" He knew they wouldn't. He hoped for it too, the only reason he added that part was feigned civility. As if he needed to justify himself to the viewer. They already told him 'no' once, that sealed their fate, but he had a mask to uphold. He hoped they chose 'no' again. He'll show them what happens when you tell Fisk 'no'.
Coz I'm only a man~
I do what I can~
They had about ten seconds to make their choice. He knew what it was going to be. He was excited, anticipating for it.
"IF YOU DON'T COME OOOOWWW-OUUUT; THEN WE'RE GONNA HAVE TO COOOOOME IIIINNNNN-HIIINNN~" His voice grew shrill as he did his best to match the music's volume. Drama club, musicals, all great for the pipes. He turned his head to his compatriots behind him, and gave them the biggest squinty dead-eyed teeth barred Tom Cruise grin behind his painted one.
B-E-H-A-V-E arrest us~
Italiana mobster looking so precious, uh~
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1257
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
The first thing Verity had been told when she’d met up with the rest of the group was that they were all going to kill Stokes.
((Verity Stewart, continued from idk some nick cave lyrics))
She didn’t bother asking why. Any reason they were likely to give her would only make being here feel more hollow. She’d just walked a little bit behind everyone the way here. Kept quiet. Focused on the journey — navigating the jetties and making sure nothing or nobody was sneaking up behind them — rather than what was going to happen at the destination. It placed all her brain’s focus on the outside world. Gave her thoughts enough of a meal that they wouldn’t attempt to chow down on the matters at hand. Of Alyssa. Of that attempt to talk to Shiva afterward. Of the fact that she was still here, still alive, still with Fisk and Sofia and James.
Of what they were all about to do.
They’d all stopped a short distance away from the restaurant. Fisk stepped a little further forward than everybody else and had started up the supervillain routine. That was cue to prepare. Verity dropped Alyssa’s trident onto the floor below. Took Timothy’s gun from her pocket, made sure it was still fully loaded. Got ready to aim at the building for when they made their choice.
Well. ‘Choice.’ Verity knew exactly what was going to happen. She was losing control of her lungs. Anticipating what was next.
At least the music was here. Drilling into her ears. Overpowering every other noise. Maybe when the inevitable happened she could pretend she wasn’t the one firing the gun.
((Verity Stewart, continued from idk some nick cave lyrics))
She didn’t bother asking why. Any reason they were likely to give her would only make being here feel more hollow. She’d just walked a little bit behind everyone the way here. Kept quiet. Focused on the journey — navigating the jetties and making sure nothing or nobody was sneaking up behind them — rather than what was going to happen at the destination. It placed all her brain’s focus on the outside world. Gave her thoughts enough of a meal that they wouldn’t attempt to chow down on the matters at hand. Of Alyssa. Of that attempt to talk to Shiva afterward. Of the fact that she was still here, still alive, still with Fisk and Sofia and James.
Of what they were all about to do.
They’d all stopped a short distance away from the restaurant. Fisk stepped a little further forward than everybody else and had started up the supervillain routine. That was cue to prepare. Verity dropped Alyssa’s trident onto the floor below. Took Timothy’s gun from her pocket, made sure it was still fully loaded. Got ready to aim at the building for when they made their choice.
Well. ‘Choice.’ Verity knew exactly what was going to happen. She was losing control of her lungs. Anticipating what was next.
At least the music was here. Drilling into her ears. Overpowering every other noise. Maybe when the inevitable happened she could pretend she wasn’t the one firing the gun.
-
DerArknight
- Posts: 685
- Joined: Thu Feb 18, 2021 9:47 pm
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Sofia Kowalski continued from On the Way to Anywhere))
It felt like an eternity had passed since Sofia woke up in the restaurant on the first day.
During that eternity, she had failed to pull the trigger when it mattered, was abandoned by her designated teammate, reunited with James, joined the Respects, watched Keegan die, murdered her designated teammate from earlier, burned all bridges with her mentor and shot a machine gun with the intention to kill two more people.
None of these were things she had expected to do when she stepped out of the restaurant to catch up with Lucille and Sylvain back then. And yet they all had happened.
A big reminder of that was her possessions, which had gotten heavier over time. First with Sylvain's car battery. Then with Keegan's backpack. And now with the stuff she had picked up at the shop boat. Sofia was unsure if she would even go ahead with her plan or if it would even work, but she planned to at least try it.
But before she could start to work on her project, there was a store to raid. Another thing she hadn't expected to do.
The shirt she had wrapped around her head felt weird. But thanks to wearing it since leaving the shop boat, Sofia had kind of gotten used to it. And not wearing it would have been even weirder.
Verity had barely said a word since regrouping. Sofia hoped that everything was okay and the other girl wouldn't snap. She also hoped that she herself wouldn't snap.
Or maybe she already had.
There had been something she had settled on back when she awoke. But right now, she couldn't remember what it was. The pictures of every moment between her first and second visit to the restaurant were swirling in her head, refusing to go away.
Whatever. Probably nothing important.
It felt like an eternity had passed since Sofia woke up in the restaurant on the first day.
During that eternity, she had failed to pull the trigger when it mattered, was abandoned by her designated teammate, reunited with James, joined the Respects, watched Keegan die, murdered her designated teammate from earlier, burned all bridges with her mentor and shot a machine gun with the intention to kill two more people.
None of these were things she had expected to do when she stepped out of the restaurant to catch up with Lucille and Sylvain back then. And yet they all had happened.
A big reminder of that was her possessions, which had gotten heavier over time. First with Sylvain's car battery. Then with Keegan's backpack. And now with the stuff she had picked up at the shop boat. Sofia was unsure if she would even go ahead with her plan or if it would even work, but she planned to at least try it.
But before she could start to work on her project, there was a store to raid. Another thing she hadn't expected to do.
The shirt she had wrapped around her head felt weird. But thanks to wearing it since leaving the shop boat, Sofia had kind of gotten used to it. And not wearing it would have been even weirder.
Verity had barely said a word since regrouping. Sofia hoped that everything was okay and the other girl wouldn't snap. She also hoped that she herself wouldn't snap.
Or maybe she already had.
There had been something she had settled on back when she awoke. But right now, she couldn't remember what it was. The pictures of every moment between her first and second visit to the restaurant were swirling in her head, refusing to go away.
Whatever. Probably nothing important.
-
Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
((James Highchurch continued from On the Way to Anywhere))
The four members of the Respects that remained had united once again.
Fisk had returned to his theatrics, though now James had to wonder how much of the act was being driven by an unwinding of their leader’s mind. He was meant to be the leader, the mastermind, but four of them had died. Verity acting like some sort of zombie didn’t help things, her seeming inability or unwillingness to say much contrasted with Fisk’s behavior and made each of them more unsettling.
Sofia’s demeanor was normal, but that only heightened James’s growing sense of pessimism. They would attack this place, but the pendulum would soon swing back, and he couldn’t help but see it targeting Sofia next.
Perhaps that was narcissistic of him.
James nervously ran his fingers over the cold metal of the machine gun, given to him by Fisk. Was that because he was the only living member of the group without a kill? Was it assumed that he would need the most powerful weapon they had in order to be useful?
Maybe Stokes and the others would actually listen, or they might manage to trick Fisk and sneak out the back. James didn’t want there to be another debt that needed settling.
The four members of the Respects that remained had united once again.
Fisk had returned to his theatrics, though now James had to wonder how much of the act was being driven by an unwinding of their leader’s mind. He was meant to be the leader, the mastermind, but four of them had died. Verity acting like some sort of zombie didn’t help things, her seeming inability or unwillingness to say much contrasted with Fisk’s behavior and made each of them more unsettling.
Sofia’s demeanor was normal, but that only heightened James’s growing sense of pessimism. They would attack this place, but the pendulum would soon swing back, and he couldn’t help but see it targeting Sofia next.
Perhaps that was narcissistic of him.
James nervously ran his fingers over the cold metal of the machine gun, given to him by Fisk. Was that because he was the only living member of the group without a kill? Was it assumed that he would need the most powerful weapon they had in order to be useful?
Maybe Stokes and the others would actually listen, or they might manage to trick Fisk and sneak out the back. James didn’t want there to be another debt that needed settling.
“What the fuck?!”
Junji was shaken out of his doze by a lot of really loud, bad music, and a screaming faggot that definitely sounded like Baterman.
He made his way over to the window as his rude awakener sung his off-kilter threat, moving past Chris and Stokes without a word, but instead a hand gesture. ‘Wait here,’ it indicated, as if he was in charge now. Maybe he just wanted to take point so Stokes didn’t have to. He peered out the window at the scene.
Oh, fuck.
Fisk was not alone. There were three other people, all wearing terrorist-style covers over their faces, none of whom looked like they were about to nail Fisk in the back of the head or turn off his boombox. It was like a scene out of a terrorism video on the news, Junji thought, except that everyone was white. There was more than a few gu-
SHIT
"Get away from the front!" Junji shouted, retreating from the windows that put him in plain view of a quick and painful bullet death, turning to Chris and Stokes. "Your faggot boyfriend came back with a lot of guns!"
He reached down into his pocket, pulling out his own tiny little FN Baby Browning with a single bullet left. Given the disparity, the name felt awfully appropriate. He might as well have just thrown it at them.
"You guys were sitting on a fucking armory in the back room, right?!"
Junji was shaken out of his doze by a lot of really loud, bad music, and a screaming faggot that definitely sounded like Baterman.
He made his way over to the window as his rude awakener sung his off-kilter threat, moving past Chris and Stokes without a word, but instead a hand gesture. ‘Wait here,’ it indicated, as if he was in charge now. Maybe he just wanted to take point so Stokes didn’t have to. He peered out the window at the scene.
Oh, fuck.
Fisk was not alone. There were three other people, all wearing terrorist-style covers over their faces, none of whom looked like they were about to nail Fisk in the back of the head or turn off his boombox. It was like a scene out of a terrorism video on the news, Junji thought, except that everyone was white. There was more than a few gu-
SHIT
"Get away from the front!" Junji shouted, retreating from the windows that put him in plain view of a quick and painful bullet death, turning to Chris and Stokes. "Your faggot boyfriend came back with a lot of guns!"
He reached down into his pocket, pulling out his own tiny little FN Baby Browning with a single bullet left. Given the disparity, the name felt awfully appropriate. He might as well have just thrown it at them.
"You guys were sitting on a fucking armory in the back room, right?!"
Chris was taking off. Maybe the writing wasn't on the wall. Maybe they just hadn't finished dotting the I's yet.
Screw it, Stokes should just—
a dot crashed into the room at 100 decibels.
fuck
wait, let her take a run up at this
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Going out was a b.a. Bad idea. The slim chance the offer wasn't BS wasn't worth the risk. She wasn't giftwrapping herself.
"YOUR MUSIC SUCKS, FISK!"
.
"No. We've got dick."
Surrounded, right? Had to be. Surrounded enough to count. How a lot was a lot? How much was scare tactics? Fisk was confident-stupid-crazy enough to blast out his location with the music. He had a posse.
"Bunker up, boys."
Screw it, Stokes should just—
a dot crashed into the room at 100 decibels.
fuck
wait, let her take a run up at this
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Going out was a b.a. Bad idea. The slim chance the offer wasn't BS wasn't worth the risk. She wasn't giftwrapping herself.
"YOUR MUSIC SUCKS, FISK!"
.
"No. We've got dick."
Surrounded, right? Had to be. Surrounded enough to count. How a lot was a lot? How much was scare tactics? Fisk was confident-stupid-crazy enough to blast out his location with the music. He had a posse.
"Bunker up, boys."