Clutching Buttercup close, you think of a lie to justify the two of you being out right now.


"Well uh, we just moved into the neighborhood. Just a little while ago, barely finished unpacking," you put up a smile and Marilyn follows this, her worried eyebrows not matching the cherry look, "Mom and Dad are still looking at which school to put us in, that's why we're out walking the dog right now, we only live a couple of blocks away."

"So you two are sisters?" The woman asks, looking at the two of you closely. Marilyn tries to hide her eyes away with her bangs, avoiding her stare as much as possible.


"Yep! Um, I know we don't look like it but uh..." you throw an arm around Marilyn and smile more, posing wither her, "J-...Just because she's adopted, doesn't mean I don't love her like I would a normal sister." Of course both her and the woman seem taken back by your sudden and little awkward statement, but you start to pull Marilyn along with you. "Sorry we have to go now! If we're not home in five minutes mom will freak!" The woman moves, ready to speak up, when another woman calls her from the house.


"Wis! What's the hold up?"

"Nothing babe! I'll be back in a second," she calls back, looking back as you try to move down the street, "Well, I'll leave you girls alone then. Don't play hooky too much, alright?" You only nod and wave, keeping a careful eye on the police car. When it begins moving forward you can't help but grip Marilyn's hand tightly, unsure if you should move forward and turn around. Swallowing your fear you keep moving forward and the officer only drives down the street, hardly offering you a passing glance. You don't release Marilyn's hand though, keeping a tight grip on her and the dog till you finally stop in the alleyway.


"Why was he stopped like that?" Marilyn whispers as she looks back and forth, keeping an eye out on both ends of the alley while holding Buttercup. In the mean time you're searching the backyards for any neighbors before getting the gate opened.

[1/2]

"Maybe he was just on patrol or something?" you offer as a suggestion, but remember the encounter with the law last night, "Or um, I don't know. But a cop stopped and talked to us last night, nothing bad happened or anything but he was trying to collect information. I think there's been a lot of break-ins around this area and they're cracking down on it? Maybe that's what he was working on." Marilyn accepts this as a reasonable enough answer, now just waiting by for you to creak the gate open. The street seemed more empty of the cars it held last night, hopefully meaning that everyone is gone away at work right now. At the sound of a car passing by both of you stop, holding your breaths as it meanders by. Heart beating quickly, you motion for Marilyn to follow behind closely.


Ducking the entire way, sneaking over to the window is easy enough. Before you can attempt to force it open, voices from inside make you pause to listen. Coming from inside the house, it's hard to make them out exactly but it's definitely John's voice, Aria's occasionally coming up. A normal conversation is not happening, and a crashing noise sends you jumping back from the wall. Looking in you can't see much, not till you try peering into the living room. There's not much of it you can see from the kitchen window, just someone's arm or leg occasionally coming into view.


"Are they fighting?" Marilyn asks, her voice barely audible. You can only shrug and try to listen more.

"...-need to-...-you're oka-...-scaring them-..." John's voice, and as you pick out the words you realize that he's not the only one talking. Dan's voice is mixed in there too, but what he's saying is lost by the distance.


"It's not John and Aria fighting," you tell Marilyn, ducking below the windowsill again, "I think something is going on with Dan."

"That weird guy?"

"Yeah. I don't think it's a fight, I think he's just like...I don't know. It's hard to tell." Marilyn's face pales at this and she clutches Buttercup closer.


"Should we try getting in right now?" she asks.

>>597504

suck and fuck

>>597506
Your speed is impressive. Your kung-fu is not.

>>597504
May as well, it might defuse any situation if anything.

>>597504

Have Marilyn wait outside while you go in.

>>597504
Get into the action! Woosh, here comes M-Delilah!

"Stay back here," you warn, digging your fingers under the window and attempting to pull up, "I'll try to see if I can figure out what's going on." The window is refusing to budge, and as the voices inside get louder you feel the pressure to get inside grow. It begins to skid open, barely moving despite your efforts. With Buttercup's leash around her wrist, Marilyn helps the best she can and the window finally opens enough.

"Be careful!" Marilyn warns, watching as you slip in.


"I will. If you get scared just go ahead and jump in or um...or go to the alley. Keep an eye out okay?" She nods and you enter the kitchen, trying to calm the beating in your chest. Already, you can see what's happening in the living room. Backed into a corner, Dan stands or rather leans against the wall, scratching at his clothes and arm. John is standing some feet before him, holding himself up with the couch as Aria stands by the stairs, ready to run up at any moment. Your presence unnoticed, you take advantage of this to move forward slowly and figure out what's happening. Even now you can barely hear what Dan is saying, but it's shocking to find out that he's been constantly muttering this entire time.


"...like damn fire ants..." That's one of the things you catch from Dan, something he keeps repeating over and over with his other mindless rambling. Next to him lays a knocked over end table, an empty picture frame shattered on the ground.


"Where is it?" John asks, taking a half step forward.

"...her. I already told y-you...I gave it to that g-...fuck...why am I burning...?" Dan seems unable to finish a thought properly, trying to brush off his unseen monsters. He tries to breathe in and speak again, his words coming out a mangled mess. "...-ant it...."


"Excuse me?"

"I want my gun dammit!" John looks back at Aria, probably in an attempt to calm her before starring down Dan again.

"And why do you want it?" He asks slowly, his hand inching towards the pocket of his jeans.


"Need it. J-Just need it, don't do this to...fuck where am I...? Please J-John..." Dan gasps out the words, hand at his dry throat and attempting to breathe, "You're my f-...friend. H-Help me with th-this..."

"Me handing that over ain't goin' to help no one, besides you already know I don't have it."

[1/2]

The idea of what they might be talking about slowly creeps up on you, and suddenly the metal against your foot feels like it's burning. A few shaky breaths and some hesitation, you take a step into the living room. Aria notices you right away, ready to move over to where you are but stopping herself. Dan doesn't seem to notice, but John's slight head turn signals that he acknowledges your presence.

"Just would make me feel...feel safer. N-No one wants to h-hurt me if I've got tha-...except for these d-damn ants...they burn like hell..."


"Sit down. Can you do that for me? There's kids here, we don't need to be scarin' them..." As John says this Dan looks up, his unfocused and tired eyes falling on you. A shaky finger is pointed in your direction, an equally quivering voice speaking up.

"You got my gun?" At this you hold still, not daring to move an inch. John's hand is resting above his pocket, and you can see the very end of your knife poking out and ready to be grabbed.


"Answer me girl."

"Do you have it?"

"Give it to me, th-thanks for holding it."

"Say something. Give me the gun. Just d-do something instead of...of fucking just standing there...!" Dan is trying to move forward as he speaks, the only speaking in the room right now. He can barely hold himself up, his body trying to shake off the imaginary ants.


You're a couple of feet behind John. He's not in the best condition, but if Dan tries to do anything there's no doubt he'll leap to action. If you continue to not answer, then there's hardly any doubt that Dan will try to come up to you.

Maybe he won't go off as bad if you approach him first, but then you have to figure out what to say. You have no idea what he wants with the gun, but he doesn't know where it is. He doesn't know that you have it on you, and he doesn't need to. If you talk to him then maybe it'll give John the chance to do something in the mean time.

And then there's the window. You're much faster then he is right now, and you could easily escape out that way and let the adults handle this.

What do you do?

>>597976

Approach a few feet and ask Dan what he needs the gun for. If he wants it for protection maybe ask if we can give it to John and have John sit with Dan to keep him safe.

Maybe see if John can unload the gun without him noticing if we need to?

>>597976
Remain calm and tell him we can get it for him, but he's gotta do as John asks so we can get Marilyn in from the cold.

If we can unload the rounds in our boot for now, or maybe slip it to John for him to do, it should be fine.

>>598056

Changing my vote to this

>>598056
Thirding

>>598056
Might as well

Holding your hands up to show their empty, just mimicking what you saw them do on television, you try to show Dan you mean no harm.


"I...I still have it," you say, hoping that it isn't noticeable in your boot, "I'll go get it, but...but on one condition. P-Please just listen to John, and do as he says so I can g-get Marilyn inside. I'll take her upstairs, and then I'll give you the gun back." Gritting your teeth, you watch what Dan is doing carefully. He takes a few more steps, long pauses in between each one before your words seem to hit him. With ragged eyes he stares before conceding, his sights on the ground and two shaky steps back. Getting a nod from John you rush back to the window, peering over and finding Marilyn crouched down and waiting with fear.


"Come on in," you whisper, offering a hand and dragging her inside, "Stay quiet and just follow me." Marilyn agrees to this silently and clings to your arms and back, hiding behind your body as you lead her to the stairs. The entire time you look on at Dan, keeping him in sight the best you can manage as you move up the stairs. Aria looks at you terrified but looking ready to stand guard by the stairway. Rushing Marilyn up the steps and into the first bedroom, Lisa waits by in the corner huddled in a blanket much too large for her.


"Is it still scary downstairs?" she asks, welcoming Marilyn over with open arms and squishing the unaware Buttercup between them. She doesn't receive an answer, and you waste no time in pulling out the gun from your boot. The girls can only watch as you follow the instructions given to you before, pulling out the magazine and freeing it of it's two bullet load. Pushing the now empty magazine back in, you hold it out and pocket the bullets for now. Marilyn looks ready to ask where you got that, why you have it but you turn heel and start to walk out of the room before she can.


"Stay here, and don't come down. I'll see you guys soon." you promise, avoiding the slew of colored on papers scattered about. The word Bunny's catches your eye, but you need to focus on more urgent matters. This gun is the tiniest one you've held, yet it feels much too heavy of a burden for you to carry.
[1/4]

Hurrying back down the stairs, you try to be quick yet not too loud. It looks like Aria doesn't want to let you off the staircase, but when you flash the metal her shoulders slump and you're given free passage. Holding the gun up in a way you couldn't possibly fire it, you walk past John and slowly towards the broken man standing before you. Instructed to stand further back, Dan eyes the gun, and holding it out as far as possible you try to put some distance between you and the weapon. The shaky hand that reaches out for it matches yours, though you're sure he isn't shaking from free like you are.


After the exchange he only holds the gun in his hands, starring at the used and abused item while you try to back up slowly. Taking extra care to not trip, you stop only when you are a step behind John. Masking your movements with his body, you pull the bullets out of your pocket and hand them over to John. Counting them under silently, you catch the hitch in his breath as he more mouths the words then whispers;


"What about the one in the chamber?"

You attempt to hide the gasp that escapes with your hands, a cold sweat and shakes wracking through your body. Praying Dan won't notice, you only want that terrible gun to get put away and never brought out again. When Dan checks the magazine you can't help but cower behind John, feeling his hand come up to ward off what might come.


"My...my ammo..." he laments, but his words are soon charged with anger, "Wh-Where's my fucking ammo?"

"You don't need it right now, you're safe here pal..." John is attempting to keep him calm, but still the knife is pulled from his pocket and flicked open, hiding the noise with his footsteps on creaky floorboard. "Got the gun back, you can have the bullets when you head out. Hell, I'll even give you some more if you want. Sit down so we can try to help you now..."


"...don't trust me. You don't trust me with a l-loaded gun, do you? Ha, Dan can't even carry one legally anymore," he's looking around now, starring in the faces of people not standing there with you, "Government said Crazy Dan can't carry around a weapon no more. He could when he it was foreign people around, but we can't risk the good old Americans. Poor D-Danny the tranny c-can't even find a decent place to sleep at night-"


[2/4]

"Don't think about that," John takes a half step forward, waiting for an opportunity to go in, "Think about when we were buddies, remember basic?"


"Why would you want to remember basic?!" Dan spits out, stomping his heel and waving the gun about, "Weren't you always complaining to me when they called you a faggot? How they just 'didn't understand you'? Well guess what John, that's how it's always been for me. Little Daniel was always different from other boys, was always the odd one out. Not even the army could have whipped my faggy ass into shape again, and look where I am! Look where it's taken me! A homeless fucker pulling in tricks on the corner and c-can't even get through a week without a breakdown! And guess what? I broke our promise! I fucking sold myself in uniform! The one thing I thought I h-h...h-had left... I can't live like this John it's...it's..." Holding his head in one palm and the gun in the other, a moment of clarity comes over Dan's face. "I feel useless. I feel thrown away. And I...I just want the burning to go away. I don't want to feel like I'm s-standing in fire anymore, it's like when we had to get rid of the bodies over there...that's what it is. I'm feeling all their fucking heat right now..." Dan stares forward, slightly opened mouth and looking beyond John. The hand holding the knife twitches slightly but remains tight, white knuckles and ready for action.


"You're with friends now." John finally says and a nervous chuckle rumbles out of Dan's chest. These all seem to be the ramblings of a man only barely holding on, spewing out whatever is popping into mind.

"Right, f-friend. When you couldn't stand to be around me earlier. You sure are my friend John. A good friend just leaves his whole fucking group without a word to them to go live a better life," more dry laughs run through Dan but these take no time in turning to dry sobbing. Struggling to breathe Dan bends over, hands on his knees and trying to gather himself. "You were one of my only friends..." he mutters and John starts to move closer, leaving you behind as he inches forward. When the heaving and the gasping comes to a stop, Dan notices his movements and looks up.

In one smooth movement, Dan aims the gun and pulls the trigger.

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The gray smoke warms the chilled skin on your lips as you exhale into the night air. The clouds offering no chance to see the moon much less the stars, it feels like any other cold and lonely winter night. Still, allowing another breath of cigarette smoke to fill your lungs, you try to look for any sign of lights. Early evening, you feel restless. It's been hours since you left, but you're only now about to get to work. Standing away from the group, it's only you and the long shadow cast by one of the junkyard's lights. Mentally you try to go over what's about to happen, hoping that you get this all done and said in about an hour. Too much longer and she'll no doubt be worried.

"Lawrence." A familiar voice calls out, and you turn to face the approaching William. He waves back to the men behind him, ones you've only met briefly before and William can barely tolerate. The kind you never figured you'd be around again, any time spent away was a blessing. You might look rough, but they live up to it.

Waving in greeting, you offer and light a cigarette for William. He hasn't stopped worrying, looking distressed ever since the subject came up.

'You okay?' he signs and you offer only a simple nod. Everything going through your head is too complicated for words, much less you having the capability to sign them even somewhat coherently. A simple answer has always worked best for you, not that many other people have the patience for a longer one.

"And you're sure you want to do this?" William's voice cracks out, and you once again nod. He's used to short answers from you, even though William has promised that he doesn't mind waiting for you to write or sign it out. After all the years of others not being fond of waiting, you've found it to just be easier to smile and nod. They'd feel better about trying to include you in conversations and you don't have to worry about being a bother. The tips of your fingers run over the angry white and raised up lines decorating your throat, scars you've long since became accustomed to. One of the few violent moments in life you remember clearly, you hope whatever happens between here and getting back home won't become a similar memory. Just need to try and get through it, push it back in your memory and accept the cash. Half up front, half after the job is done. You need that other half, and you're not going back without it. Get through this, and you won't have to feel so bad for a while. Get through this, and you won't have to be a fuck up for a while.

"Think they gettin' ready to go," William remarks, looking over at them for only a moment, "Sorry I ain't coming with ya."


'It's okay' you sign, fingers moving about awkwardly. There's a slight ache that ripples through your body, but it's not important to think about right now. His cigarette only half burnt, William pulls it out so he can speak to you clearly.


"Not going empty handed, yeah?" he asks, orange glow rolling between his fingers, "I know you're going as 'muscles', but will it work if you're empty handed?"


There's not much on you right now, but that doesn't mean you're weaponless.

With two weapons available, you remember the instructions from earlier. You're just there to be intimidation, but they'd like to make this as clean as possible. You choose to go in with;
>Bare hands, but keep the gun hidden but accessible, you don't want to walk in looking like trouble
>Bare hands, but keep the brass knuckles hidden but accessible, taking the gun with is asking for trouble
>The brass knuckles on, gun hidden but accessible, they can serve as a subtle warning
>Go in carrying the gun, you don't need to waste time

>>600328
>Bare hands, but keep the brass knuckles hidden but accessible, taking the gun with is asking for trouble
Escalating the situation would just make it too likely we'd need the gun, drawing attention and probably cops in turn.

>>600462

Supporting.

>>600328
>Bare hands, but keep the brass knuckles hidden but accessible, taking the gun with is asking for trouble
Big man Law about to bust shit up

Your presence into a room has always been grand and intimidating, even when you try not to be. Showing the metal pieces tucked away in your pocket, you answer William's question. Only reason you'd need to use a weapon is if there's a fight, and if all things follow through there shouldn't be. 'Shouldn't' being the keyword there, but you always try to prepare for things to go left.


"Okay. Glad you kept them." William signs out of habit as he talks, his face unable to hide the disapproval he has in all this. Neither of you may stay on the right side of the law all the time, but that doesn't mean he likes it. Maybe you're just better accustomed with it, or it just doesn't bother you anymore. Of course it would make sense that the felon wouldn't mind doing work like this. Letting the dying cigarette fall from your mouth to the cold ground, the hell of your boot snuffs it out as you pat the heavy pocket.


'Does this hurt?' The tips of William's fingers tap against his cheek and you offer a no. When the stitches were first ripped out it sure as hell did, or at least when you could feel your body properly again. A lot of that time is just a blur of events, ones you'd rather not remember. It's still a disgrace on your part, letting Delilah see you like that.


"You just look like you're hurtin'." William calls you to attention again, and you brush a hand over your face. It's true you've been in some pain, but not from this. Or at least, mostly not from your cut. Just occasionally an ache will travel through your body, hurts but nothing more than an annoyance. Still, you're not entirely sure where this pain is stemming from but have decided that if you try to ignore it enough it'll go away on it's own.


'I'm fine. Thank you.' You make sure to add in the thanks, hoping he understands why you're saying it. Without William you would have had to go through your less than well meaning contacts, and anything that means you can go back sooner and unscathed the better.

"They gave you the cash already, right?"

'Part. Get rest after job.' It's a struggle to remember the sign you've learned, but in the near dark and outside like this it's a godsend, even if you can only use it in few circumstances.

[1/3]

"You make sure they give it all to you. No holdin' it, no safe keepin' it. Get it all, count it twice, then leave. Don't think about sticking around for another job, or walking them back. Get in there, get out, leave. You hear me?" The scolding isn't coming from a place of superiority but friendly concern. You acknowledge this, already planning to cut ties with these guys as soon as the money lands in your possession. It'll be enough to last the winter, should be. Budget and keep an eye on what you're spending and this should last till spring, when you can try to find a real job. Or at least something that isn't scummy. Even if it is just wage slaving, hell you'd be willing to work for below minimum if it meant steady income, even for a little bit of time.


"Yo! You ready man?" One of the guys -Andrew- calls out ,signalling that it's time for you to head out. Before leaving your little private space you and William share a quick handshake, your friend leaning in close to whisper.


"Just be careful out there man. You ain't owe no alliance to these guys, and don't worry bout us. Things start to turn to shit, don't be afraid to bail. That girl of yours probably has enough to worry about." You nod again, but know that abandoning the job means not getting the rest of the payout. No one else knows what you're out here doing, much less how much you're expected to bring back. But you know how much it needs to be, and you're going to bring it one way or another.


William and you return back to where the men are, Andrew standing with the other two who will accompany you tonight. Louis and Marshall, but to be honest you aren't sure which is which. Not that you care anyways; what matters is that Andrew has your money waiting for a good job done. Looking over your small group you can see why they'd want to hire 'intimidation'; ratty and shady looking, these would be the type of guys to talk big but run at the first sign of danger. Good for you in this case, they can run their stupid mouths while you stand idly by. Or that's how it better play out tonight, anyways.

[2/3]

"We headin' out? Big guy ready? Ay, you ready man?" One of them, you guess Marshall, asks. The nod you give doesn't seem to satisfy him, painting an annoyed and confused look over his seedy face. "Can't you give me a real answer? You never talk man, just speak up. It's damn annoying when all you can do is move your head and it makes you look like an asshole."


"He can't talk, you asshole," Louis remarks, sounding like he's higher then the clouds right now, "This guy is one of them eh, mutes or whatever. Which is good, you run your damn mouth enough for two people." Marshall doesn't try to argue this anymore, but he does shoot a glare at you. Undoubtedly, he's one of those types who doesn't have patience for you. He must not have picked up the memo on your condition last time you were around them, but at that time he wasn't exactly in the best condition either.


"If you guys are done with freezing our asses off here, we need to head out. And don't fucking think about falling asleep in the car again, you hear me?" Andrew swats the back of Marshall's head at the end of this, holding a set of car keys in his hand. You only wave goodbye to William, following the other three as they weave their way out of the dump and to the equally trashy dirt lot. A beat up black car sits waiting by, half-assed tinted windows obscuring most of the inside. Marshall is ready to get in the front passenger, but Andrew is once again quick to scold and direct him to the back.


"The fuck you thinking? He ain't going to fit back there, so unless you wanna be the one starring down these fuckers then I suggest you move your ass to the back." Andrew moves inside, the car kicking on as Marshall grumbles and gets into the back. If you cared right now then you might have felt guilty about stealing the front again, but with these guys it doesn't matter. They could hate your guts for all you care, so long as you get paid.

[3/whoops,barely]

The heater, barely functioning, starts to warm the car as the men talk. You can't help but look out the window as Andrew drives, only vaguely aware of where you're heading. It's cold and you feel filthy. There's nothing more you'd like right now then to go home, have a warm shower and meal, and a bed to return to. It's been so long since you've realistically had that, and you wonder why the thought even lingers. To be honest though, returning to someone is far more desirable then all that. As it stands, you can't stand the other people in this car. Too loud, too rude, talking about things like they know what they're about when in reality they might as well be a bunch of children playing pretend. The brass knuckles in your pocket are all too real though, and this terrible car moving to a real place. It might not be the right thing for you to do, but it's against just as awful people. It must be fine to make an exception in that case, or least that's what you tell yourself.


For the car ride, you;
>Think about plans for the money
>Listen to what these guys are talking about
>Close your eyes, relax the best you can till you get there
>Write-in

>>601989
>Listen to what these guys are talking about

Collecting info is always a safe bet

>>601989
>Listen to what these guys are talking about
If we can figure out what to expect if shit hits the fan, that's great. If not, let's just consider our options for the money.

>>602177

This. The more we know the more likely we are to be on our game tonight and the more likely it is we can get out quick if things go south.

>>602431
Thirding

Keeping your eyes outside, you pay attention to the conversation without showing interest to them.


"Fuckers better have a welcome mat for us," Marshall complains from the back, feet pressed against the back of your seat, "Tired of running our asses out here for them."


"All I know is that you better shut your damn mouth while we're in there," Andrew snaps, "You run that big mouth and I'll show you real trouble, you hear?"


"Yeah yeah boss, I hear you."

"Damn right you better." Andrew focuses on driving for a bit, Louis smirking and chuckling under his breath over the scolding. Eventually Andrew speaks up again, this time to you, "How about you man? Doing alright there?" Nodding, you watch in the review mirror as Louis pops something small in his mouth and swallow. Whatever it is that keeps him happy, and you'd rather keep it that way. There's already one asshole in the car, and you'd rather not have to listen to another one.


"Must piss off a lotta people..." Marshall remarks, digging his heel into the seat, "They ask you a question and you just nod your head-"


"Shut it," Andrew snarls from his seat, looking over at you briefly, "Let me just say, thanks for comin' along. This guy's been a bit of a pain in our ass, but once we get our money then you'll get your money. He's a little piss baby, and so are his friends. Bet they'd take one look at you and they'll be emptying their pockets. But eh, in case of 'em decides to play dirty, we can do the same then." He's trying to reassure you, but it's all for himself. You can hear the slight quiver in his words, something that he hides behind cursing and a rough tone. Trying to act like he's bigger then he is, trying to pull money out of a guy just like him. Butting heads but unwilling to swing, but here you are to be the first hit. Or at least the threat of it, you seem to have that effect on people. Hell, the first time Delilah saw you she was terrified. And now, with how fucked up your face is? At least it can come to an advantage, at least in this moment.

[1/3]

Without thinking much about it you tug up your collar more, feeling the red hot and irritated skin of your cheek brush against your fingers. Soon the red will die down and the rest of the stitches will come out, becoming bright white scars instead. Just like when you lost the use of your voice, you can only wait for it to heal and see how it will be. As far as you can tell it's healing well enough, but that doesn't mean it'll ever look normal again.

"Think that pregnant bitch will be there?" Marshal asks and you try to pay attention to the conversation again.

"What? You talking about Jenna? She ain't gonna be there, this is his like...'away' apartment," Louis chuckles, head rolling back against the seat, "Course there might be some other bitches there, but she doesn't know that."


"Maybe if he has some girlfriends over it'll be better for us. Wouldn't want to scare his lady friends too much," thinking it over, Andrew scratches at the back of his neck, "But eh, maybe he'd be like me and try to put up a mean face to impress 'em. Remember when he was showing off the other day? Owes us money, saying he don't have it, he don't have it. Then goes on a shoppin' spree to try and impress some sluts? That's bullshit."

"I saw that watch he got, pretty fuckin' nice," Marshall leans up, a smirk on his face, "Think we can get him to give it up? Ya know, like as interest or whatever?"


"Listen here. I'm going in to get my money, and that's what I'm leaving with. Louis is too fucked up right now to offer much help and I don't think Law here wants to stick around. Do what you want, but I'm only gonna keep the car running for five minutes. You aren't back down here in five minutes and I won't feel bad about leaving your ass behind." Marshall doesn't like the lack of support in his exploits but doesn't try to argue it. He instead looks over at you, a punch worthy smirk spreading further on his face.


"Yo, big guy," he says and you only respond by looking back towards him, "I'm sure Louis has some shit travelin' around in his pocket, might help to take the edge off. Just, you know, maybe try not to drink with it this time-"


"You're an asshole for that, and you know it," Louis adds in, but it doesn't seem like Marshall cares as he continues grinning at you. Nothing to say to him, you only turn back to the window. While you're finally going to work, you can only guess that all the cars passing by are returning home. They've got honest paying jobs, and here you are helping to get money from someone just because you look like the kind of guy to break in kneecaps. "Andy, who all you think is gonna be there?"

[2/3]

"Don't know. Zeke, obviously. Ah, probably that one fucker with the tattoo on his face. Cody should be there, and if he's there then Arin too."


"Shit, four dudes. You sure you wanna do it tonight?"

"It's either four of them or ten. Don't worry about it, they'll probably face down in coke when we get there."

Four guys. You should be able to handle that if something goes wrong, so long as none of them are stupid enough to pull out a gun. They all might be idiots, but you just pray that aren't that dumb.

...


You're fairly surprised that this guy lived in a duplex rather than an apartment complex, not that it's of any better quality. Torn down and rusted fences, a house with it's roof caved in, peeling and faded paint everywhere and with cars to match; this looks exactly like the neighborhood these types of guys would live in. The gray building that you'll soon see the inside of passes by as Andrew keeps driving down the street. He only stops in front of an equally crappy park, put in behind a church. It feels more like the type of place you'd go to find drug dealers instead of kids, but over on the other corner you can in fact see a group of three teens hanging around. Then again, for all you know they could be both.


"Don't want to let him know we're here." Andrew explains, switching off the car. Not that you needed it, but it probably makes him feel like he knows what he's doing. Stepping out, you wait by as the other three stand by the popped up trunk. Discussion about what they'll say when they walk in, it's over plans that don't concern you. Andrew wants to get this over quickly, and you're just going to hang around in the background, just as you are doing now.


Looking back over to where the teens stand, you notice a boy a few years younger walking by them with his bike in hand. Head hanging low and trying to make himself as small as possible, he looks like he walks in fear. You understand why as soon as he's shoved to the ground, becoming targets for the loitering group. You doubt they're going to do anything more than rough him up, but it's still a hard scene to watch.


Waiting for Andrew, you;
>Stay here. The boy will be fine and you'll just be wasting your time.
>Go over and help him now, it's not right for three of them to gang up on him
>Keep an eye out, if it seems to get bad then go over and stop it. He needs to learn how to handle this if he's going to grow up here

>>605103
>Go over and help him now, it's not right for three of them to gang up on him

>>605103
>Keep an eye out, if it seems to get bad then go over and stop it. He needs to learn how to handle this if he's going to grow up here

But don't focus too much on the kid. We've got a job to do, money to make and Delilah and the group to return to.

>>605103
>Go over and help him now, it's not right for three of them to gang up on him

We've been there, and it'd do well show the kid something can be done about these cunts. Pay it forward and ease our conscience while we're still waiting for the guys to get ready, maybe.

You continue looking on, considering just standing back and keeping an eye on the situation. However, as he's pulled up by the collar to look his attacker in the face, the memories of you in the same position come to mind. It's hard to breathe, with a fist against your throat and starring down the face of someone who hates you just for existing. Making sure you go over with unclenched fists, you decide to walk over with a huge presence. No need to run, no need to look threatening. Just stand up straight and tall, just look at them. No need to do anything more. And sure it doesn't take long for your approach to be noticed, for the younger boy to be released back to his feet. He looks scared out of his mind, all while the older boys are trying to look like they weren't just beating on him. The boys don't scatter like you expected, but it's easy to tell they want to.


The bike lays on the ground, faded blue with a seat being held together by tape. A dim flickering lamp post a few feet away illuminates the scene enough for you to notice the loose hanging bicycle chain. Wanting to ease the younger boy in knowing that you're here to help him, you pick up the bike and put it up right for him. Kneeling down you take a look at the chain, trying to do your best in the low light. He looks down at you confused and trying to fight back tears, all the while you can hear the whispers coming from behind.


"...-you know him?"

"Nah. Looks like a freakin' mobster or some shit."

"Maybe he's a drug dealer?"


Letting the boy in front of you know that it'll just be a moment, you pull out your notebook and write, handing the page over to him. Squinting in the dark, the boy reads over it silently first, his eyebrows jumping up when he realizes what he's supposed to do.


"Hey, we weren't doin' nothing," the teenager who had grabbed the boy's collar speaks up for his group, and behind his faked tough demeanor the cracks of a scared boy show through, "Jeremy's our friend, we just messin' around with him, you know?" Looking up at the boy you now know as Jeremy, you nod at him to follow your written instructions.


"O-Oh, um..." he stutters, looking down at you for support. You motion for him to continue and with a shaky breath he does. "H-...H-He s-s-says you guys n-need to l-...leave right now-"

"What? Why the hell should we?"

"Um, c-...c-cause if you d-don't h-...h-his friends and h-him will t-...toss you g-guys over the bridge...!" Jeremy spits out, holding the paper tightly in his hand as he points over to where Andrew and the car wait.


[1/3]

"What? No way, they wouldn't-" The sight of men standing around a car watching spooks him and the other two, standing afraid to move. Standing back up and locking eyes with him, you change that and watch as they rush to go the other direction down the sidewalk, pushing and pulling at one another to stay ahead. Knowing they won't stop again for a long time, you go ahead and kneel back down to finish fixing the bike. Jeremy only stares in awe at the teens fleeing, but looking down at you still puts a flame of fear in him. Doesn't matter if he's still afraid, you did a good thing tonight, just need to remember that.


Even if you are a terrible person, you can still do good things.

Getting the chain to stay in place, you show Jeremy the work you did. He looks surprised at first, exploding into excitement when he finally hops on.


"Y-You got i-it!" he exclaims, pedaling forward to test it. Wiping the grease on to your jeans, you're expecting him to just ride away. Heading back to Andrew, you only walk a few feet to catch up with Jeremy, still sitting on his bike and waiting for you.

"Th-Thanks for that," he says, looking back to where he'd just been a victim, "I m-mean for those g-...g-guys too." I t-try to get home sooner so I can a-avoid them, but my ch-chain fell off and I had to w-walk it h-home." He waits expecting a response of some sort, but there's no good light available for you to write anything down. "Oh, you don't t-talk I guess. I d-don't like to either, c-cause I ca-can't speak good. Th-That's o-okay though, I'm tr-trying to get better. So um, m-maybe you c-can get b-better." You already know that's impossible, but just as always you return his sentiment with a slight smile and nod. Jeremy stares at you for a bit, walking the bike along as you try to head back towards the car. In the mean time you pray that he goes on his way already, you've done what you can to help. His eyes seem fixated on your face, specifically the cut running against it and it suddenly feels as if it's burning.


"Um, I h-hope y-...y-you and your f-friends don't r-really throw p-people off bridges." You shake your head this time.

"That's g-good. Um, d-do you g-guys live here?" Another shake.

"Are y-you doing a j-job?" A slight pause, but you nod.


"C-Cool. I h-have a job, I deliver p-papers on Saturday. It's not a f-fun j-job, but if I s-save up e-enough then I c-can get a d-dog!" Jeremy finally moves off the sidewalk and onto the street, pointing down the street you just drove down. "I l-live over there. I h-hope your j-job goes w-well." As Jeremy rides down the road it feels like your heart is too tight. You're watching to see where he turns into, which house he belongs in. The weight in your stomach feels much lighter when you see him pull up to a red house only a little ways down. With no other hindrances you return to where the men are waiting, the truck long since shut.
[2/4]

"Jesus Law, look at you. Bein' neighborhood watch patrol," Marshall remarks, sarcasm dripping out of every syllable. "Keepin' these streets safe from all them damn teenage hoodlums."


"It's fine. We needed time to prepare anyways," Knowing that you may be the factor in a success or failure, Andrew is obviously keeping on your good side. "Keaton shouldn't know that we're here, so that's good."

"Were you planning on just knocking and expecting him to let you in? Haven't really explained that part to us." Louis asks, and you wonder how well he can see in the dark with those sunglasses on.


"Don't need to knock. Pulled a favor with a buddy of mine, so we..." Andrew displays a house key, danging from a ring, "We're just going to let ourselves in. Just pray to god that bastard is kinda decent when we enter, but ain't any chance of him hiding this way. And if he really is out for the evening, I'm sure he's got enough items around the place to make up for our wasted time." You can't help but look towards the house the boy ran in to. You helping him feels almost wrong. He probably really does think you're a nice man, but the only reason you're even here is to force a man to hand over money. It's a dirty feeling, and you can't help but feel ashamed with yourself.


you fuck up


"Psst, need one man?" Looking back down, you see Louis offering up a white pill of something. "Look like you could use somethin' to calm ya." For a second you consider accepting it, but you remember what happened the last time they offered. Stronger then you expected and washed down with alcohol, the effects came so suddenly and hard you were almost afraid that you were going to die that night. And of course Delilah had to see you like that, and then you went and lied to her about it too. You'll make it up to her though, you have to. If it's doing something amazing for her birthday or use all the money you earn on her, you'll make up for being a terrible person and a liar.

[3/4]

The pill instead goes to Marshall, who seems to accept it partially for the sake of spiting you.


"Hey hey wait, don't go getting too fucked up till we're out of here!" Andrew says, too late to stop him from swallowing.

"Relax man, he's got bout twenty minutes 'fore it kicks in. We'll be in and outta there in no time." Louis says, sure of himself. Unable to do anything else about it, Andrew looks annoyed but drops the subject.

"Alright Law, while you were out doing your good Samaritan act, we were figuin' out how we'll go in. But ah, we figured it be best for you to decide where you wanna be. You're probably good at this sorta thing, right?"

"Look at him boss!" Louis says with an artificial cheeriness, placing a hand on your shoulder in an act of over friendliness, "He's got this, he's like a uh, professional. Lawrence the professional! That should be your title, maaaaaan." You nudge him off and think about the question.


For this, you should try to stick;
>Stay right there with the guys. Up front and aggressive,it should get the job done fast
>Stay behind them. No need to be overly eager with this, Andrew wants this as civil as possible
>Stay back by the door. You're not willing to risk it if something goes wrong
>Write-in

>>606227
>Stay behind them. No need to be overly eager with this, Andrew wants this as civil as possible

>>606227

Let's stay in the back. We want to intimidate them not feel like we're threatening them with our presence. If it goes sour that way we'll be able to get out quicker if needed.

You'd like to get this over quickly, but you aren't willing to stick your neck out too far. Motioning the best you can in the dark, you try to let Andrew know that you'll just be right behind them. He gets the general idea of it, or at least you hope that he does.


"Alright, good. Let's uh, well. I guess let's get to this already," Andrew starts down the way, looking up and down the lonely and cold streets, "Tired of standing out here." Pulling up the rear, you look over the houses that pass by. They may not be in the best shape, but they're sure a hell of a lot better then what you're doing right now. You try to figure out what one of these could end up running a person to rent; you've never had to deal with this before, and being out of the loop on this makes you feel stupid. Course that's all your fault, prison cells don't have rent.


Arriving back to the duplex, you stand off on the grass as Andrew starts to unlock the door. It's not a huge place, the porch only a small cracked slab of concrete with an uncovered light bulb barely staying alive above it. It's shoddiness stands out from the others, looking rather small for the lot it rests in. The walls look newer then the near by houses too, and if you had to guess a different house stood here years ago, only to be torn down and a duplex settled down in it's place. Remembering the house with the caved in roof a few ways down, it would be a safe bet to say all the homes here will wend up suffering the same fate soon enough.


A click and swing of the door forces you to pay attention to the task at hand, Andrew opening the way to a dimmed living room. Putting a finger to his lips Andrew steps inside, the other men following closely behind. Double checking the streets, you too slip inside and lock the door behind. The only light is coming from a large television sat on the stained carpet, the smell of different kinds of smoke and alcohol all mixing together in a rather sickening way. Or rather it should be, if you weren't used to it already. Scanning the conjoined living room and kitchen, you at first believe the house to be empty. A trip to a short hallway and a creaked open door proves this wrong, Andrew smiling at how easy this seems to be. Having you and Louis stay back in the living room, Andrew takes Marshall with him to infiltrate the bedroom.

[1/3]

"K E A T O N!" Andrew calls out, another man calling out in surprise. Briefly there sounds like struggling, a crashing sound of a lamp falling over, but he marches back out with his target lead out by the scruff. Keaton looks absolutely horrified, a pair of shorts hastily pulled on. "Good to see you buddy, good to see you. Sorry bout distrubin' you in the middle of whatever the hell that is, but this shouldn't take long." The bedroom door wide open now, you can see the stacked mattresses also set on the ground. Beneath the amiss pile of sheets and blankets, you almost didn't notice the sight of a woman's hand sticking out, blonde hair trailing by it. Marshall follows out, having checked the bedroom first and notices you looking.


"Don't got to worry about her. That bitch is out cold or some shit, ain't going no where soon." That doesn't make you feel better at all, but you know that your attention is best served elsewhere at the moment. Andrew may be an asshole, but you doubt that he would have struck a woman like that. Marshall might be the type to do that, but there's a creeping suspicion that she was already in this condition before you guys came, the thought further supported by the emptied pill bottles on the ground.


"Here man, take a seat with me. Just wanna talk, just wanna talk," Andrew pushes the near naked man on one of the folding chairs set out in front of the television, taking one for himself. You continue to stand just a few feet back, a clear run to the door if needed. This puts you in line of sight of the bedroom too, and you can't help but keep looking over at the bed. "How you doin'? Like I said, didn't mean to bother you. Cute girl, probably be a lot cuter if she was you know, awake. You piece of shit. Got anyone else here right now?"

"Get outta my house, you know damn well I could kick your ass-"


"Maybe you could, sure. But what about him?" Andrew points over, Keaton's eyes following. You only manage to make eye contact for a few short seconds before he looks back down, like a dog with his tail between his legs. "That's what I thought. But hey, you're in luck, I don't want to fight. But I need to know, is anyone else here? And is anyone else coming?"


"J-...just me and the girl. Z-Zeke went out for drinks, he'll probably be back in uh...in like-"

"Sooner then I want. So let's make this quick. Where's my money?"

"I don't have it yet, I'm sorry. Bills been piling up, and times are just...they're just tough right now."


"Yeah? I'd believe that if you weren't walkin' around showing off that stupid fucking watch of yours and buying drinks for any one with a pair of tits. Speaking of, how's Jenna? She know bout all this spending you're doing? Pretty sure she don't know about that dirty little secret you got going on in the bedroom, and I bet you'd like to keep it that way right?"

[2/3]

Having expected more guys to be here, you actually begin to consider the idea that this won't take long at all. In the corner of your eye, slight movement catches your attention from the bedroom. The woman is sitting up now, looking around groggy and confused. A red light peeks out past her head, the sign of a recording camera.


"Okay okay! Fuck man, you j-just had to ask..." Keaton says, Andrew finally done talking with him. You missed the end part of the conversation, but it doesn't seem to matter. Probably didn't even need to be here, but as long as you get paid anyways then it doesn't matter. As Keaton leads him to where he keeps his money, Marshall is busy showing off the watch he's already snatched from the bedroom.


Between the conversations happening in the house, the sound of the doorknob turning barely makes a noise. Remembering what Keaton said, you expect it to be one of his friends coming through. Wasting no time you move to the side of the door, waiting for whoever to walk in. You'll shut the door behind him, make sure he can't reach a weapon, and the problem will be solved before it begins.

The door opens up and a man walks in, looking terrified out of his mind. You wait for the door to close, but the woman who follows him from behind ruins your original plan. It wouldn't have been too hard to readjust in the moment, but her swollen stomach and gun pressed against the man's back makes you stop.


"What the fuck is this?"she asks, mascara long since haven ran down her cheeks.

"A-Ain't my deal, t-talk to your man! It's all K-Keaton's d-dea-" Before the man can finish talking the woman pulls the trigger and he collapses to the ground in a squirming and shaking bloody pile. She looks over at you, gun hanging limply in her hand.


"...I don't know you," she finally says, her voice strained like she's been crying for hours before, "Are you one of his friends?" You shake your head slowly, not wanting to startle her. The pupils in her green eyes are huge, and even if this mercy is only coming from an inebriated state then you'll take it.

"What the fuck?! Did you just...fucking hell! Bitch just shot him!" Marshall finally calls out from his shock, Andrew marching Keaton back out to see what's happening.


[3/4whoops]

"J-Jenna! B-Baby what's h-...oh my god...-" Keaton doesn't notice the gun at first, the body of his friend on the ground making him throw up right there.


"Shit...shit!" Andrew moves his hostage in front of him as a shield for now, reaching back to his own pocket.

"Is this where you go? When you say you're working? Is this where everyone says you take those other girls?" Jenna asks, walking over the still twitching body and moving towards the father of her child. The other two are reaching for their own weapons, and you look between the open front door and the hallway. The woman on the bed has stood up now, trying to walk while covering her body with a blanket, her steps and movements shaky.


Whatever you decide to do, it's not going to be pretty..

>>608101

Knock her out stone cold from behind when her attention isn't on us and make sure she doesn't land on her stomach.

Better an aching head and still alive than a dead pregnant woman on our hands.

>>608101
Knock this bitch out, I ain't give a fuck she pregnant

>>608158
On second thought try to wrestle the gun away from her. The dude might have deserved it for all we know but we don't need no crazy bitch with a gun around us right now.

>>608196

Knocking her out is how it works tho.

Grab gun, knock bitch out, end of story.

>>608101
This reminds me of a story. I once had a guy who would illegally lock up his bike on my fence gate, made it a real pain in the ass to get out of my driveway. It was dumb too, because I have a shitty picket fence that a thief could rip apart in moments. So after he ignored three notes not to do this, I waited till he came back, knocked him down, and held his frail cyclist body against the ground as I brutally violated his tight little boypussy over and over for hours. Afterwards I told him that if he ever stopped by again, I'd do it again. The next day he was back, and there were ten cyclists waiting patiently with dropped trou and their bikes locked to my fence, because cyclists fantasize about having their asses pounded because bikes are gay lmao

>>608227
If you're James Bond or some shit, yeah. In something going by real life rules there's no guarantee of cleanly knocking someone out with one punch. We might beat the living fuck out of her and she's still conscious with a gun in her hand. And even if we do knock her out we could give her brain damage or even kill her.

>>608101
Tell her he's not worth it, life without parole and the child taken away. Direct her towards the drugged girl who doesn't seem to be here of her own free will.

Maybe draw attention to the camera.

The faster we defuse this situation, the faster that sick puppy Keaton can hand over the money and we can avoid the cops.

>>608766

I'd love to support this but exactly how do we tell her in a way that she's going to pay attention. We cant exactly speak loudly and I doubt she's going to be bothered reading.

>>608766
Calmly defusing the situation
Fine by me
Better than assaulting her
Also are you saying the girl was raped?

>>608789
Not... worth it. Life... no parole. Child taken.

Appeals to emotion work well on inebriated people.

>>608792
I'm not saying she wasn't raped, there's circumstantial evidence.

>>608766
>>608789
>>608832
Eh I'm willing to go for it then. Changing vote to support this.

>>608832
Bitch already done shot a dude though bruh

>>608839
Emotional instability brought on by her inebriated state exacerbating her grief. She's more prone to act on impulse.

>>608228
is this true

>>609076
Hopeful cyclist detected

There's not too much time for you to work. A neighbor was bound to call the police, and if Jenna manages another shot then they'll be swarming the place in no time. If you leave then you won't get your money, but you need to be careful, need to do this just right. A small wave of pain travels through but you don't allow it to take away any of your attention. Right now there's a few things you need to keep a constant eye out for; where the gun is pointed and where her finger is.


"Is this who you've been sleeping with? This...this whore?" Jenna finally spots the girl trying to walk out, her bruised body becoming exposed as the blanket slips and moves about. The gun remains pointed at Keaton, and each time she talks it's soft and anguished. Everything about it scares the hell out of you, it feels impossible to guess if and when the gun will go off again. From where she stands, everyone in the room is a target. You avoid this danger only by being at her side, near the open door. Fleeing right now isn't an option, even if looking at the back of a man barely able to breathe makes you want to. Everything will have to happen quickly, but first thing first; you have to get that gun out of the way. Jenna continues moving forward, hiccuping and wiping away tears that have long since dried. You've been spared, but that may no longer be the case if she figures out the plan you've made. Barely moving at all, you inch your way towards her back.


"Keat-...Keaton? What's, ow...it hurts....what's going on? Wh-...what am I doing here...?" The girl asks, her voice dry and rough.


"Look at you! Don't ask 'what you're doing here'!" Jenna screams with tears she hadn't been able to cry before flowing down new again. The sudden loudness makes you stop, forcing you to watch as you try to figure out what she's doing. The heavy stance she has turns aggressive, the gun moving to point between the girl and Keaton. "You're standing here naked, after fucking M Y man, and you're trying to play dumb like that?!"


"I didn't have se-" The words are cut off as she touches down her front, eyes that had once been struggling to keep open now wide as she feels her bare skin.


"That's right cunt, don't even try to lie to me." The gun starts to waver towards the girl's direction, but comes back to Keaton once he speaks up.

"Baby! Honey! C-...Come on! I'm sorry, I'm sorry alright! We can still settle down, I promise it! I'll tear up the lease for this place and-"

[1/3]

"And what? You'll just have to find a new one to bring your whores to? YOU ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME! Every promise you've made...! And you expect to be the father of our child?" Either exhausted or out of breath or coming down from whatever high she is on, Jenna looks down at the ground and the sight of the barrel follows. "We were supposed to get married, move out of that shitty apartment, you were supposed to stop seeing other women..."


"That can still happen! We can work on it! Please baby,...please..." Keaton is begging, and the gun starts to slip away from her hands. Jenna looks over at the girl who is only starting to realize what's happening, and lack of any pity or empathy on the pregnant woman's face.

"...I gave you enough chances," the gun is aimed at the other girl, absolute fear washing over her face as bare legs begin to shake, "I'm not going to be hurt anymore."


Marshall and Louis having long since taking steps away from everyone else, no one stands in the way of her target.

Though she'd been so determined to go through with this, Jenna shows some slight hesitation now and that's all you need.


It takes only a second for you to come up from behind, grabbing the gun till your knuckles are white and pointing it away. In surprise Jenna fires, the bullet lodging itself in the now splintering and cracked wall. There's no way someone hasn't made a call at this point, and the time you have to work is even shorter.


"Don't stop me!" Jenna calls out, kicking and trying to free herself, "Let me do this!" The desperation in her voice makes your chest feel heavy, but stopping now isn't an option. Using everything she can, the gun manages to escape your hand and find a new target in you. Jenna pulls the trigger once again, but you'd prevented the gun from cycling. Confused and frustrated, Jenna can only look at her currently useless weapon for a moment before you restrain her, trying to balance being gentle but keeping her in place. Holding her arms back, Jenna goes from trying to wrestle away to screaming and crying, ready to fall to the floor had you not been holding her up. The gun remains in her grip, but you no longer have to fear it.

[2/3]

"...why won't you let me have this...?" Jenna asks between shallow gasps and breaths, and you look around the room first. Andrew still hiding behind Keaton, the other two having ducked away behind the kitchen counter. The girl without a name has thrown herself to the floor, cowering like a child with her hands over her head. Ears ringing from the shot, the room is otherwise an almost unnatural silence, and you take advantage of this.


Leaning close so your voice can be heard past her sobbing, you try to make your voice as soft and simple as you can manage.

"Not...worth it. Will go...to prison. No parole." And now you literally speak from experience, hoping that she'll have the patience to listen right now.


"He's ruined my life..." Jenna whispers, her body trembling with each passing second. "He's ruined everything for me. Everything I've ever had-"

"What about...baby? Can still...be mother." Jenna remains silent at this, only a few seconds passing before the gun drops to the ground. Her head hangs low, and releasing the hold on her you grab and pocket the gun instead. Seeing that the ordeal is taken care of for a moment, Andrew pushes the man in front of him.


"Alright. Get the money, and then we're getting the hell out of here. You can deal with whatever you got going on here by yourself," It takes several tries to get Keaton moving, the man almost too shocked to even function properly. "Marshall, if you aren't already tripping over your own damn feet then could you at least look around the place? Make sure we aren't leaving any trails behind. Louis, keep a look out and let me know if anyone passes by, and Law? Just ah, try to keep things from getting worse in here. Giving us five minutes before we have to leave." As everyone scatters, you watch as Jenna leans on the wall for support, only to slide down to the floor and cry to herself. The other girl is still cowering, fearful to look up and see what's going on.


For the small remaining time in the house, you'll;
>Just stand here with Jenna
>Check the guy on the floor and see what he has. A dead man has no use for money.
>Go check on the other girl
>Check around the house to see if there's anything you can take
>Write-In

>>609284
Get the gun away from Jenna, she might figure out how to rack the slide. Also Law's fingerprints are on it now so there's that. Then help nekkid girl.

>>609284
>Go check on the other girl
Find her clothes and make sure she gets the camera with her, it's likely the only proof of what happened to her tonight. Maybe make her go to one of the neighbors for her own safety, no telling what Keaton might try if he has the chance.

As is, she's the only one we can safely leave to the police, but we need to get Jenna out of here first chance.

>>609284
>Go check on the other girl
>>609322
This basically
There's probably more tapes around too but not enough time

>>609292
>>609330

Supporting both

>>609346

Actually I'm an idiot and missed the fact that we took the gun already.

Go check on the naked chick and get her sorted and then loot the stiff.

>>609430
If we do loot the dead guy make sure we don't leave any prints
Don't leave his wallet after emptying it or some other dumb shit

>>609430
>>609434

And make sure it's only cash we're taking. If he has drugs or anything of the sort leave it.

File: martin.png (11 KB, 448x82)

11 KB PNG

>>609284

Double checking to make sure the gun is securely in your possession, you step over the arms splayed out on the floor and walk with soft steps towards the girl on the floor. Shaking with a near violent ferocity, she flinches just from hearing your footsteps coming near.


"D-Don't hurt me...!" she calls out while trying to make herself as small as possible, "I j-just want to go hooome...." Getting up close to whisper to her isn't a good idea, so you'll just have to get around that. With Louis peering out the window and Marshall more or less trashing the kitchen and living room trying to find anything of value, there's no one to bother her but you. Going past her and to the bedroom, you see Keaton busy counting out cash pulled from a moved panel in the wall. On the floor the clothes that must belong to the girl were just thrown carelessly to the floor, camera still pointed and recording anything that happened on the bed. The roll of duct tape and knife sitting aside on the night stand only makes you look at the scene with more disgust, but there's not much you can do about it in this moment. You'd love to knock in Keaton's teeth right now, but that won't do much to help. Instead you just go to the camera, finally killing the red light. Popping out the current tape, you carry it as you pick up the dirtied dress and underwear from the ground. She needs to be dressed in something warmer, but this is all you can manage right now.


The girl is still sobbing and begging for her life when you return, forgetting to hold the blanket to cover her body and instead just using it as a means of holding on to something. Crouching down, you try to give her enough space while offering out the clothes. Peeking out behind tangled blonde hair, she looks at you with watering blue eyes and chokes out;

"Y-you're going to hurt me..."

No you're not, that's what you want to say. And of course all you can do is shake your head and offer out the clothes. She stares at them, as if unsure of what they are.

"...this is a t-trick, isn't it? Just...j-just like that d-drink was..."


[1/3]

Even if you could talk, it would seem impossible to think that she'd be calmed down by anything you'd say to her. Leaving the clothes in front of her, you stand up and take a few steps back. Finally understanding what you've set out in front of her, the clothes are picked up with a shaky hand and with use of the wall and grimacing the entire way she manages to stand. Either still too groggy to realize that she's exposing her body or uncaring about it at this point, the blanket falls away as she struggles to find the right way into her dress. Marshall takes a look over her, but your presence nearby keeps him from trying anything other than looking. You try to avert your eyes, but they keep getting drawn to the bruises and hand prints decorating her body. Wrist, neck, shoulder, thighs; all of them fresh and coming from tonight. If the tape doesn't show a struggle then those should do the job.


Touching her, even if it is to help, isn't a good idea right now. Still, you keep an eye out as she steps into her ripped underwear, trying to keep the sleeves of her dress up. Looking down at herself, she must realize how much of a mess she looks right now as her legs buckle and attempt to hold her up. At the sight of you approaching she flinches away again, but peers our between her fingers at the tape you offer over. Picking it up in confusion, you can only watch as the slow realization of what is recorded on there hits her.


"Oh...oh-h-h..." she cries, trying to both hold the tape tightly and keep it away. Shoving her out like this seems harsh, but having her stick around like this is a dangerous risk to take. You motion for her to follow you, and though she hesitates and tries to back away there really isn't much else for her to do. Letting her come up first, you try to shield her from view of Jenna as you lead her to the front door. She hardly notices the body on the ground, stopping when you do on the porch. She doesn't know it, but you're scanning the nearby houses to figure out which one to send her over to. Down only a little bit is a house still decorated with Christmas lights, and having nothing else to use in this choice you point her down that way.

[2/3]

"...what's over that way?" she asks, looking ready to vomit at any moment. Trying to figure out the best way to inform her while being pressed for time, you clear your throat and try to speak loudly so you wont have to lean in close.


"Go there...get help." The rough and gravely part of your voice makes her flinch, but only briefly. Finally connecting together the pieces of everything you've done, the woman looks up at you before nodding her head down.


"Thank you. For being nice and h-...helping me," she starts her journey down the street, and you only manage to hear the last sentence "...you're a good man."


The words she uses, the way she looks, her bruises and crying...it all brings back a sick familiarity that makes your stomach lurch and fists clench up. Counting to yourself mentally, the nails of your fingers continue to dig into palm as you watch her walk. At her speed it takes longer then it should, but she manages to make it to their porch and ring the doorbell. When an older woman answers the door you feel safe enough to go back into the house.


Jenna has stopped sobbing now, clutching her arms and looking out and away. The man on the floor is finally just laying still, no more twitching and no more choking on his own blood. It feels dirty, but not the worst thing you've done, you kneel down next to him and look for a wallet. Nearly falling out of his back pocket, you tug out the creased leather and take a look inside. A bit of cash, some cards...typical things to carry around. You'll look through it later, when you don't need to worry about swarms of police or leaving behind prints. For now it goes into your pocket, fitting uncomfortably well next to the gun.


"...I already killed him..." Jenna's voice can barely be heard, but you still look up and acknowledge what she said. You point at the man on the ground, raising an eyebrow but feeling lightheaded when she shakes her head and clutches her stomach. "I'm not going to be a mother...I ruined that a few hours ago." It's only now that you realize the blood pooling on the ground isn't just coming from the gunshot wound, sticky red dripping down her ankles to join what is already on the floor. You can't help but stand up and recoil away at this, trying to figure out what to do next. A pale and shaking hand reaches out, and Jenna forces you to look into her green eyes.

[3/4whoopsbarely]

"Please g-give me the gun..." she begs, and initially you shake your head, "You helped that other g-girl though...please help me. I'm not going to h-hurt anyone else, but...but I c-can't go through any of this anymore. It's t-too painful...everything is awful. I c-can't stand it. Please, let me just end it...please..." In response your hand goes toward the gun, feeling it through your coat.


Jenna wants to end it for herself, and you are;
>Fix the gun and hand it over. You'll pick it back up when she's done.
>Fix the gun and do it yourself. It's one of the few things you can do for her.
>You aren't taking the gun out. Jenna can do whatever she likes once you leave.
>Write-In

>>609615

Dead baby or no we're not letting her Kill herself. See if we can't scare her into realizing dying isn't the answer via making like we'll shoot her ourselves (with the safety on naturally.) Suicide by gun is an appealing option for most people because it's so quick up until they're given time to think about it.

>>609615
Keaton would win. Loves hurting women.

She's not alone. Been there. Sister died, became distraught. Almost jumped. Found purpose, reason to live. Still hurts, but survive.

Can be strong, defy expectations.

>>609615
Maaaan we shoulda let her merk dat nigga. Can we still do that? Or shoot him ourselves? Why not put the gun to his head, fire then put it in his hand? Either way tell her to get the fug out cause she ain't in custody yet.

>>609696
Probably support groups around or something
Maybe we should get her dropped off at a friend's place or point her to where the other girl went
Give the police access to two of Keaton's victims

>>609696

Damn you all and your appeal to emotion. Changing vote to support

Keeping a hand over the gun, you only shake your head at the request. This doesn't sit well with her at all, and in a morbid scene Jenna crawls over to claw at the legs of your pants while looking at you with heavier tears dripping down her cheeks.


"Why?! Why not?! You went and helped h-...her! Why not me? Tell me-" You take a step back, not wanting to let her try anything till you figure out what to do. There's no sirens yet, but you try to keep a careful listen for them. Jenna manages to push herself up, wobbling and ready to fall over with clenched fists at her sides. "Why won't you help me?! Say something dammit!" In a movement of panic you grab your notebook, ready to resort to writing her a note or something. Anything to explain why you won't do this, in a way she can understand.


"Talk to me!! I know you can!"

Your pen stops before it can even begin writing, and you meet eyes with Jenna once again. It was stupid of you to think that she'd take the time to read what you wrote out, in her condition you should just be glad that she's even coherent at all. The drying blood around her ankles catches your attention all too easy, and though you don't want to give her the means for suicide you can't help but feel the tiniest shred of guilt for denying it to her. Seeing that she's waiting for an answer and knowing that she deserves one, you force yourself to speak up.


"Not alo-"


"Speak up! Louder, so I can hear you!" Jenna demands, shouting again. It's not that you're afraid of her per say, but something about the way she is makes your hand shake. A woman dangling on the edge, you begin to wonder if she can even be helped anymore.


"N-...Not alone." It hurts for you to talk at what would be considered a normal speaking level, but you don't dare let your voice go any lower. "Was like...this before. Sister died. Wanted to...jump. Wanted to...die. But found...new reason...to live. Still hurts...but surviving. Can get...past this." When you finally feel like it's safe to stop talking you look over Jenna's face, looking for any sign of getting through to her.

"What kind of hope do you think I still have?" No longer shouting, the despair that replaces the loudness makes you worry more. "I don't have any other friends, no other family, and I've already killed the one person who could have loved me..." Her hand still rests on her stomach, once an incubator for new life now serving as a tomb.

[1/2]

"Not end...of it."

"It might as well be."

"Can still...find something...to live...for."


"Stop that. Fucking stop with that bullshit. All everyone has ever said is that it'll get better, life will get better! But look! Look at where we're fucking standing right now!" Resorting to shouting again, this proves too hard of a task for Jenna and vomit mixes with the blood on the floor. The unborn child is dead, and if she doesn't get any medical attention soon then Jenna will be the same. Between wet gasps she curses, struggling to keep upright.


"What the fuck do you even know..." she says, hand on the wall as she remains kneeling over, "Look at what you're doing. Helping some piece of shit rob another piece of shit. Is this what you meant by a new reason to 'live'? It's shit if you ask me, I'd rather die then life a life like this..." Jenna takes some steps towards you, reaching out and ready to ask for the gun again. Exerting herself too much in too little time, her footing slips and she falls to the ground. In a daze she mumbles, hardly a complete word tumbling out.


"Alright, I got our cash. Let's move out!" Andrew calls out, throwing Keaton to the living room floor as he walks out. The near naked man is bound and gagged tight, no doubt by his own supplies.

"We clear out front, boss." Louis calls out, finally tearing himself from the window. A small plastic bound package is displayed by Marshall, proud by his drug find.


"Move your asses then, less you think you can convince the cops we didn't have any sort of hand in this." Andrew stands by the door, trying to avoid looking at the body by his feet as his group begins to move out. You're looking over Jenna the best you can without touching her, trying to figure out how bad of condition she's in. It's hard to tell, but may just be a bit loopy at the moment. Hardly enough for her to move out on her own, but not quite at death's door yet.


"Shit, Elena is gonna be pissed when she hears about this..." Andrew has pulled out a handkerchief, wiping down the front door's handle. Not recognizing the name, you look over in hope of getting a better explanation. "Don't think these two have seen each other in a couple of months, but fuck. Like hearing about a kid you graduated with dying, you know? Don't think Jenna was the type to make a lot of girl friends, but Elena had to be the closest to that. Fuck, I don't wanna break this news to her...dammit Law, you coming or not?" Long since being ready to leave, Andrew now waits on you.

Looking at Jenna's semiconscious body, you;
>Leave her here. An ambulance is bound to come and it will be the easiest way to deal with this
>See about taking her to Elena's. You doubt she'll be able to out run the cops, but it may give her time to collect herself first.
>Drop her off at a hospital. Quick and with no questions, you're worried about her condition.
>Write-In

Was out all day, and when I returned home after 10 hours out I decided to get rather intoxicated pls forgive writing thank ya

>>613637
>See about taking her to Elena's. You doubt she'll be able to out run the cops, but it may give her time to collect herself first.
Hopefully she can talk some sense into Jenna, give her the attention and care she needs right now, and get her to an ER if her body isn't passing the tissue.

>>613641

We need our cash first or this whole thing was a waste of time.

>>613637

Leave her here. She clearly needs medical attention of some kind and the longer we delay that the worse itll be. If we're that worried about her we can always inquire about her last name before we part ways with Andrew and the crew and check up on her at a later date.

>>613641
Supporting
>>613717
That sounds like a recipe for her telling the cops out of spite

>>613737

It's not like we killed anyone or even had a direct hand in robbing anything. At most we need to fear being associated with these guys but let's be honest the police aren't going to give much of a shit about us when Keaton's business and the murder are going to be right in front of them.

She needs the medical attention and we need our money.

>>613740
Unless she says we're Keaton's friends

>>613744

We've got the other chick we saved as a secondary witness who is very unlikely to agree with any story calling us a bad person.

That being said if we can get our payment right away for this shitshow of a job I don't see any reason we can't take her to a hospital ourselves or even her friends place to cool off

>>613754

After a hearty meal and a short nap during lunch I've decided to change my vote to support taking her to her friends place.

We'll ask for our cut of the job before leaving of course.

Treating her as a delicate object, you manage to scoop Jenna up in your arms. Even though it may be too late, looking at her stomach makes you mindful of every move you make. Her head rests against you, eyes half open as she continues to mumble.


"Wait, sure you wanna drag her along?" Andrew asks, eyeing the mess in your arms. You stop just for a moment, but let your leave serve as an answer. Up the street, you can spot Louis hanging back a few blocks waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Andrew is quick to pass, and while running is out of the option right now you are quick at his heels.

"Whoa whoa wait, why are we taking her along?" Louis asks, seeing who is it you're carrying, "I don't want some crazy chick in the car with us."


"Don't have time to argue. Gonna have to figure out an alibi for us tonight, but eh...Law?" Andrew stops walking only for a second to talk to you, "I'm goin' to hold you responsible for whatever happens with her, got it?" Far too late for you to turn back with her, you show that you're going through with it.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with her? Not going to take her back with us-"

"No, I guess we'll uh..." Andrew looks at you for the answer, but unable to give one he's forced to think of it himself. "I...I guess we'll take her to Elena. Then she doesn't have to be our problem any more."


"Yo, she bleedin'? Fuck dude, this night is so fucked up right now." Louis must be able to see the drying red on her legs, his face going from pale to green quickly.

"Know what's going to be fucked up? You when the police get here and try to ask what was goin' on in that house. Now move your ass!" Andrew has to shove Louis forward, looking around as he walks, "And where the fuck is Marshall at?"


"Dude started freakin' out, told him to go ahead and wait in the car."

"Great, now let's get out of here."

Keeping the distance between you and the men short, you look down occasionally to Jenna. A hand remains on her stomach, moving over and over in a circle. You do the best you can to ignore what she's saying, but the words occasionally get to you.


"There there..." Jenna coos, "Mama loves you. Can't wait to see you, mama loves you. Mama loves you so much."

...

[1/2]

Rather then waiting in the car, Marshall is leaning against it, starring at the black paint.


"Took you guys long enough!" He calls out, Andrew making a beeline to the driver's seat. Knowing the front is out of the option, you slide into the back seat still holding Jenna. It's cramped and uncomfortable, but the best you can manage right now. Outside Marshall is trying to ask about her, but his questions are shut down by orders to get inside the car. Louis sitting with you in the back and trying to keep as much space between him and Jenna as possible, Andrew peels out and down the street.


"Okay, pay attention. This is how shit is going to play out," Andrew announces, constantly looking up and down the streets as he speeds along, "I'm taking us over to Elena for a bit. Two of you are gonna get out and take her in,and who ever stays here is gonna come with me to help make sure our tracks are covered. And yeah Law, I'll make sure to hand over your money when we stop. Now, either someone volunteer for a job or I'll choose for you."


Looking over at the front passenger seat, you watch as Marshall is trying to calm himself down. The pill isn't treating him too well, especially after what all just happened. Not to say that you aren't shaken up from it; you left behind a dead man and a tied up rapist. The way things seem, Keaton should get what's coming to him, especially if that girl hands over the tape as evidence. Nothing more can be done for the guy shot, but Jenna is about to have the roughest chapter of her life. You begin to wonder if making her go through this was really the right answer, but you keep reminding yourself that this is the right choice. Or at least, the best choice you could have made.


Andrew is still waiting for an answer, and you'd rather;
>Be the one to take Jenna up to Elena, walk home from there
>Stay with Andrew, have him drive you closer to home
>Let Andrew decide
>Write-In

>>614532
>Be the one to take Jenna up to Elena, walk home from there
We chose to do something about this, we may as well see it to the end.

>>614624

Supporting. None of these jokers are up to the task.

>>614624
Thirding

"Will take...her."


Silence follows your answer, everyone uncomfortable with the fact that you said anything at all. Marshall looks over at you, wide eyed either from surprise or trying to focus his sights.


"Holy shit, you do talk..." he stutters, grabbing the seatbelt as if that's the only thing saving him right now.

"Alright. Cool, good. You take care of her, then can you find your way back home?" Andrew asks, looking in the rear view mirror. You nod this time, not wanting to speak up any more, not for these guys. It's a bit of a walk, but you'll finally be on your way home. Getting his answer, Andrew addresses Marshall next. "You get out with him."


"What? Why the hell do I have to get out?"

"Cause you're some how even more useless right now! Look at you, you're just going to be in the way in your condition. Help Law get her up to the apartment and then head home. If anyone asks, you were at home sick all night. Me 'n Louis will try and cover our asses then. Just remember, we weren't anywhere over here. Marshall, you didn't leave the house. You stayed home all night, and Law? No idea what we were doing, if we were out or what we were doing. We won't mention you, and you won't mention us." Settling on that for now, it's not much a plan but no one wants to speak right now. Every headlight that comes up or passes make you do a double take, checking each one for the white and black pattern. No one and nothing trailing behind, but nothing to keep your attention at bay. The twitches and movements from Jenna seems bigger than before, always making you worry that she's going to start spasming. Her eyes have fallen shut now, but her breathing stays on rhythm and her words come to stop, her body finally resting. You have little clue on what she'll have to go through, but she's probably going to be in the hospital for some time. And after that? Some time behind bars, it'd be silly to think otherwise. If she asks you won't mention it, you're only goal right now is to get her to safety and keep her alive.


"Guys, I uh...I just want you to know," Andrew speaks up one more time during the drive, a strange solemness in his voice, "This money we got tonight? It's dirty money. Only reason we were able to get this much is cause that girl's body paid for it. Er, maybe not hers, but some other girls. I'm going to be paying rent tomorrow with cash made from filming a chick getting raped, and it makes me sick. Thought I'd be use to this kinda thing by now, but it makes my stomach churn."

You couldn't agree more.
...

[1/?]vc

It takes only ten minutes to pull up to the back of the brick building, a metal door breaking up the red pattern. On the edge of the poor neighborhoods, you recognize the streets easily enough. Walking alone isn't too dangerous, at least not for someone like you. Coming to a stop and leaving the car running, Andrew digs through his pocket and begins counting out bills.


"Take Jenna up, floor four room uh...room 435. Elena may be asleep, but just keep knocking till she answers. She should recognize you Marshall, and she'll recognize her for sure. Honestly I don't care what you do with her, so long as she's not my problem any more. After that, give Law his cut. Yours is in here too, just divide it in half and get your ass back home. Don't leave or talk to anyone before I come over, understand?" Andrew waits for an answer before handing Marshall the cash, the rubber banded bills going into his pocket for now. You eye it carefully, taking a note of where it's at and trying to guess how much it is.


You manage to step out with Jenna still in your arms, Marshall tumbling out. No time is wasted before the car drives off, leaving you two in a lonely alley.

"Lets get this over with. Not gonna carry her, by the way." He stumbles with his steps, barely managing to get the door open. Carrying her in would attract too much of the wrong attention, and as much as you'd rather not Jenna is made to stand on her feet. After a few tries and gentle coaxing, the woman manages to open her eyes. No clue of where she is or what is going on, she almost mindlessly follows where you lead her inside. Green carpet becomes decorated with drops of red, unnoticeable to anyone else but you. Marshall is standing by the antique looking elevator, smashing the up button as many times as he can manage. Round the corner, where the hallway leading to the first floor rooms lays, you can hear the sound of tenants talking to each other, either coming or going. When the doors open you shove Marshall and lead Jenna in, smashing the button to close the door before anyone else can enter. The ride up is all too slow, the rocking making you keep a hand on Jenna to keep her from falling over. Knowing you can't rely on your 'partner', you pull out your notebook and scribble out a note for Jenna's friend.


Whatever she says, call 911.
If you don't, Jenna will not make it to morning.
Don't let her leave, make sure she stays here till an ambulance arrives for her.
A lot has happened, and all she needs is a place to stay till help comes.
No matter what she tells you, Jenna is not okay right now.


[2/4]

Unsure if more detail is needed or not, you have no choice but to leave it as is when the doors open up. Exchanging places with a man coming on, you look to see which way Elena's door will be. Almost dragging Jenna behind, you rip out the page from your book and search for the numbers. Marshall stands back, leaning against a wall to give him the illusion of stability as you continuously knock on the painted door, hoping to not catch the attention of any unknowing neighbors. Your repeated efforts are finally rewarded when a woman obviously woken up from her sleep answers, messing around with her coiled hair.


"Can I help you...?" she yawns from behind the cracked open door. Before you can hand over the note she spots Jenna and the door is open wide, the sleepiness replaced with surprise. "Jenna? Is that you? It's been forever, who is this? Wait, say something girl, you look sick. Are you fine? Is something wrong with the baby?" The obvious concern she has makes you feel better about just dropping Jenna off like this. Elena reaches out to grab her shoulders, trying to look her distant friend in the face and figure out what is happening. Almost intrusively you shove the note over, knowing that manners can be forgone in an emergency. Scanning over the words, Elena's eyes jump from the paper and back over to her friend repeatedly.


"Oh no...oh god what happened- Shit, come in Jenna, you need to sit down. I, dammit the phone is in the kitchen." Elena takes hold of her friend, leading her nearly limp body inside. She looks back at you, doing a double take as she tries to sort her thoughts, "Um, s-stay there! Let me get her in and call for an ambulance and...dammit, what is going on..." Elena disappears inside her apartment, the door left open a crack. Knowing that remaining here will only cause trouble, you do take the courtesy of writing out and leaving behind one more note before dragging Marshall with you down the stairs.


Please keep any kind of weapon away, she is not in a good place right now

Jenna says the baby is gone, and I don't think she's lying

She's going through the hardest time in her life right now,
the best thing you can do is stay by her side for tonight

Please let her know I am sorry about everything that's happened tonight

....

[3/4]

Doing everything possible to avoid anyone milling around, you and Marshall escape from the building quick enough and find yourselves back in the alley. Free of the task that he did little to help with, Marshall tries to make his way to the street but clearing your throat his attention is caught.


"Fuck, right. Right, the cash. Right, uh lesse..." With his back facing you, he counts out the bills before begrudgingly handing them over. Knowing better than to just pocket it and leave, you count the cash out for yourself. As the last bill is counted out your breath catches.

It's short.


You double count it, making sure each bill is unstuck from one another and accounted for. Still, this is short of what you were promised. Looking up you can see Marshall trying to stumble away, as if he's done nothing wrong. Maybe Andrew high balled the amount you were supposed to get, but this doesn't sit well with you at all. The bundle of twenties feel all too light in your hand, especially after everything you've gone through tonight. The faded blood on your pants serves as a reminder of this, and you watch as Marshall is walking away. He's not sober, he's not fast, and there's no way in hell he could put up a good fight.


[4/5damn, hate breaking text up]

The job you did tonight was supposed to pay out $750, and as it stands right now you're only holding $500 in your hands. Andrew mentioned the money he handed over was supposed to be split evenly, and you can't help but suspect Marshall is keeping a part of your cut. Maybe you weren't supposed to get quite the full amount promised, but this feels much too short.


You earned this money.

You need this money.

You can't go back to Delilah like a failure

You didn't fuck up tonight, not as far as you can tell

Does he have any idea how much of a difference that amount of money could make

What if something happens and you can't fix it cause you didn't get that last amount

That bastard pocketed the money you earned

You did all the hard work

All he did was act like a cunt and get high

He's walking away with the money you earned

That bastard is walking away with the money for Delilah


The nails of your fingers dig all too familiarly into your palms, the beating in your chest racing. You're trying to remain calm, trying to think of the things that are supposed to help. Watching your hard earned money saunter away like that feels like too much though, the anger that makes others scared of you starting to boil over all too quickly. You know you need to stay calm, but that thought hasn't done much to stop you before. It's like something else takes you over in these times, the already stressful night and random pain that comes from your body isn't doing anything to help.


In what might be a desperate attempt, you try counting again, trying to calm yourself as Marshall gets closer to the street. Next to you, tucked away in the alley, rests a spot between two buildings. Out and away from public eye and no one around, you could easily use it to your advantage.


The anger inside you is rising quickly, and you need to act. Of course you know what the 'right' thing to do is, but that doesn't mean you'll let yourself do it. You've been trying to get that damn anger of yours under control, but with everything piling up the way it is, and with your money walking away like that, you aren't so sure how long your current nice streak will last.
>Drag Marshall back, show him why it was a mistake to try and cheat you
>Let him walk away, you don't trust yourself right now
>Catch up with him and try to talk about it
>Write-In

>>617788
>Catch up with him and try to talk about it
We can stay calm for Delilah's sake. No sense in souring our few work connections by assaulting Marshall, and everyone's still more likely to believe he tried to stiff us with all the shit pumping through his system.

>>617788
>Write-In
>Drag Marshall back,try to talk about it
Instil fear into him but dont fuck him up yet. Just let him know we could and are very willing.

>>617868

Supporting though I don't think we have any intention of working with Andrew and then again. This already feels dirty enough without making a habit out of it.

We'll try to calmly ask to see how much he was given.

You try to give yourself a few moments to calm down, to not walk over without self control. The anger inside you doesn't so much as subside but rather you try to pull it back with reasoning. Over and over, you try to repeat to yourself; You don't want Delilah to see you like this, and if she's going to continue to hang around then you need to get your temper under control. Imagining those big gray eyes watching every move, you trick yourself into walking over calmly. Already you write a note for him, trying not to press down so harshly against the lined paper.


At the corner, Marshall has stopped to look around and attempt to orient himself. The side street he's at is rather empty, no cars passing by at this time. With each step you remind yourself to stay calm, trying to pass the note over when you finally catch up.


"What the hell man? I already gave you your money, what do you want?" he asks, ignoring the paper. Stopping your hand from curling up into a fist, you once again try to push the note over to him as a response.


How much did Andrew give you?
This is short of what I was promised

Only two lines, you only need this man to read two lines and answer you. Marshall refuses to even look at what you've written, offering only a "Fuck off" when you try to push it on to him again.


"Listen man, should be pretty fucking obvious but I don't like you, got it? You did your job, and I did my job, now get outta my face. I want to go home already." Marshall's face scrunches up as he talks, a mixture of trying to focus and becoming peeved. He's not trying to hide his annoyance right now, but if he knew how close you were to snapping he'd act more cooperative. When he attempts to walk away you slip from a moment and grab the collar of his coat, dragging him back a few feet in the alley. You try to ignore the smaller alcove, how you could be leaving here with the money you were promised and more so easily. The anger that slips makes you toss Marshall against the wall, but the self control you are attempting to display leaves you doing only that. He doesn't know how much you're holding back right now, and in turn this only makes him heated.


"What the hell?!" Marshall calls out, eyes darting about and blinking rapidly, sweat beginning to drip down his exasperated face. "Man, leave me alone! You damn freak, what the fuck do you wa-"


"How. Much. Andrew. Give. You?" Forcing out the words from gritted teeth, those five words alone begins to instill fear in the man.


"How mu- Wait, are you trying to rob or somethin'?" Marshall attempts to take a stance, pointing an accusing finger at you, "That's what this is, ain't it? Thinkin' you can just leave here with your wallet a bit thicker...well, it ain't happening. This my money, and you already got yours."


"How. Much. Was. It?"

"Fuck off man, I ain't tellin' you shit-"

[1/2]

There's a tightening in your chest when he speaks up and a flash of red in your vision. Marshall goes from trying to act like tough shit to desperately trying to keep the hand around his throat from squeezing. His fingers uselessly try to claw at you, shaking as his fear grows with every passing second. You haven't even begun squeezing down, nothing to make him beg for air. Every muscle in your hand is begging for you to do this, to teach this rat a lesson. It hurts for you to breathe right now and it's all Marshall's fault right now; you want to show him what he's done to you, and you want to leave here with the money he's taken from you.


Go ahead and squeeze, it doesn't matter what happens to him

You watch the white of his eyes grow wider as your fingers begin to dig into his skin. Not enough to choke him yet, but it won't be long at this rate.


Get your money back, don't be a fuck up again

The tightness in your chest travels to your own throat, just like it always does. It feels like you're suffocating, and it's all his fault.


If you let yourself get cheated on this then you're letting yourself get screwed over
Why waste time trying to reason with this guy
It's not right for him to keep the money YOU earned
It belongs to you, you need it
Remember, act like she's watching you


The last thought makes your grip loosen, not enough to make Marshall feel safe but enough for him to breathe.


Only way Delilah would know you did something as scummy as this is if you told her, but it would upset her if she knew. You're doing something she doesn't like, she cares about your safety. Delilah cares if you come back or not every time, she worries any time you return with a new nick or scratch, and she wants you to be safe. You've already lied to her about what you're doing today and that's bad enough. Walking into that house with blood on your hands will only make it harder to look her in the eyes again.


The house you guys are living in secretly
One of the several places you've had to hop around to
The place you guys will have to leave one day, and pray that you can find somewhere safe else where
That's no way for someone to live
She deserves better
But it's going to take money to give her better
And this piece of shit is holding that back from you


Not changing your grip, you start to count again. You need to calm down, need to be calm enough to reach 100. If you can do that, if you can even get close to that, then maybe you can finally show some self control...

>Roll 1d100, best of three wins

File: 1472498426213.jpg (86 KB, 708x566)

86 KB JPG

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>618349

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>618349

>>618349
YOU SON OF A BITCH

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>618349
Forgot to roll

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>618349

In the dark alley, tucked away where no one will come to help Marshall and with his twitching throat caught in your hands, the next move from you is to close your eyes. Marshall continues to squirm in your hands, trying to beg for mercy. If you want even a chance of calming down you need to ignore him and focus on counting.


After plenty of stopping and restarting, you finally manage to begin a proper count. Now you just have to remain calm through it, just have to remain calm till you reach one hundred and everything will be okay.


33...34...35...36

"...-ucking crazy..."


When Marshall manages to spit out those words you nearly lose it right there, your hands squeezing harder on his throat long enough to shut him back up. Over and over you repeat the number 36, enough times till you remember to keep counting. Your grip loosens and you move on to the next number. Even though you're only counting it's a long and slow process, leaving you unsure of how much time is passing. Keeping your eyes averted or closed, you make sure to look anywhere but at his face. If you do that then you'll mess up, guaranteed.


The tightening in your chest and throat continue as the numbers get higher, becoming painful as ever. There comes a few times when you lose count, where you have to guess which number you were on. You need to do this, need to make it to the end so you don't act like a monster.

[1/2]

77...78...79...

"...what's wrong with you..."

Looking Marshall in the face now, his watering eyes stare at you with unhindered fear.


It feels like you can't breathe anymore, and it's this man's fault.
...80...
It's his fault you're like this
...81...
If he hadn't tried to cheat you then it wouldn't have to be like this
...82...
You wouldn't have to do this
...83...
Everything wouldn't have to hurt
...84...
It wouldn't have to feel like you're suffocating again, like when your throat was ripped open
...85...
You wouldn't have to lie to her about this
...86...

Delilah would still think you're a good person
Excited every time you came back
Come up and greet you with a smile
Make a fuss just because you came back dirtier then you left
Ask how your day went, and eat up anything you tell her
Want to stay by your side all night
Feel safe enough to sleep next to you
and even though it scares the hell out of you when she does
Delilah will probably end up saying she loves you again

....
For a moment, everything hurts and you're preparing to do your worst.

...87...

And then you just let him go.


Red marks where your fingers lay on Marshall's throat as he drops to the ground, gasping and coughing. You don't even step away from him, more concerned over the fact that it feels like you can breathe freely again. With his entire body shaking, he manages to pull out and drop the mess of bills to the ground.


"H-here! Take it! T-Take it all man! J-Just don't hurt me...!" Marshall cries out, trying to run away when the money falls from his hands. Not making it far, he trips over his on feet and cowers on the ground, gasping for breath once again. You only stare at him, feeling light headed. Scooping the money off the cold and damp ground, you begin to count out what he has.


With 500 in your hand and 500 in your pocket, you realize that Marshall isn't the one who cheated you.


You look back over to where he is again, frightened to move a muscle. As far as he's concerned, he just handed all his money over to pay for his life.
>Keep all the money
>Give back his $500
>Give back a different amount

>>620041

Give him back his $500. He doesn't deserve what we did to him. Make sure he knows that his buddy tried to fuck us over and he nearly paid for it. Make sure he knows we just wanted what was promised to us.

We aren't going to apologize because he clearly wont care. We'll work out a different way to make more money. We've still got the wallet after all and Im sure we can sell off the credit cards inside at some point to someone who can make use of them.

We just want to go back to Delilah and get this day over with.

>>620041
>Give back his $500
Fucking Andrew. Stiffed us. Promised seven-fifty.

No sense in going after him now, just get back to Delilah and the group. Maybe get the word to William that Andrew is a lying cunt so it'll spread.

>>620156

>Maybe get the word to William that Andrew is a lying cunt so it'll spread.

>>620041
Give him back 250. We need all our money.

>>620041
>>620315
This
Because fuck Marshall
I mean what did he even do this whole time
Try to tell him we will get to the bottom of this and that we are sorry but we need the money promised to us

>>620041
Give him the money back and tell him Andrew promised more
He may be sore at us but it'll incite him against Andrew
Also supporting >>620156

Counting it out, you divide Marshall's money in half. Two hundred and fifty dollars, you could pocket it and take home what was promised. The temptation to do it is strong, your fingers itching to add his money to yours. For whatever reason you can't do it though, can't make yourself take the money. It's rightfully yours, or at least as rightful as you can call this. But as much of an asshole as Marshall is, he isn't the one who stiffed you.


As you walk the sounds of your boots echo in the alley, an ominous warning of your arrival. Marshall tries to move away but he's not in any state to do anything right now. Parting with the money is hard, but like too many other things you force yourself to do it. Kneeling down next to a man who is all but given up on fighting, the money is slid back into his pocket where it belongs. His still twitching hands cover the top of his head, the fear he held against the wall still very much with him. There's little you could ever do to fix this, and you never expected to receive forgiveness. Maybe it's a vain attempt, but you'd like to not be seen as some crazy psychopath. You don't feel good about hurting people, especially someone who doesn't deserve it.


"Fuck Andrew." You were about to leave without saying anything, but if you can at least attempt to justify your previous actions then maybe you'll be able to forget about this later. "Ripped off. Promised 750." There's nothing else you can do now, and staying here is just asking for trouble. Rising up, you look down at Marshall for one last time before walking down the path he attempted to take.


There's no time for you to waste right now, it's nearly 11:30 and Delilah was expecting you back much earlier than this. Still you feel the call for a smoke, lighting one as you walk. Protecting the flame from the wind with your hand, you can't help but grip the filter between your teeth. You didn't lash out, not nearly as much as you wanted to anyways.


Yet there's an awful feeling of restlessness inside you.

Telling yourself that it's just the adrenaline from this whole evening running, you know it's lie.


The next time you see William, you're going to make sure he knows exactly what happened. He already didn't like Andrew, but this should seal the deal. Even though it's short, you are still five hundred dollars richer tonight. Add that in to the rest you've earned these past few days and you nearly have a thousand saved up. It's all dirty money and bound to run out quicker than you'd like, but at this rate you'll accept anything. A nagging thought tugs at your head though, as hard as you try to bury it away.

You can hardly take care of yourself, why do you think you can also take care of someone like Delilah too?

...

[1/3]

From this side of town, you can easily see the bridge between the buildings as you walk. Its shape outlined by lights, your eyes are drawn to it every time you pass. You came in to this city from the bridge, and a month ago you were planning to leave everything behind the same way too. Going towards it feels strange now, you feel guilty about the thought of killing yourself. But you may have to go over it again much sooner than you like, if you ever go through with the plans to see your parents anyways. God knows when that'll be though, and you don't look forward to it in the slightest.


Luckily, your journey on foot only take about forty-five minutes. Once you get closer to the house you travel through the alleyways instead. You'd promise to bring Delilah back a treat, but seeing how that didn't happen you'll just need to make it up to her instead. You don't realize how cold it is till your cigarette butt is tossed aside and you can still see your breath. Frost has already begun to cling to the ground and walls, but you know that it's only going to get worse. So long as there's a roof and four walls to shield everyone from it, then it should be bearable enough.


When you finally come across the gate, you start to finally feel the fatigue from the day catch up. The last few feet to the window seem to take forever; the freezing metal of the fence isn't welcoming in the slightest and you look like nothing less than a thief or vandal as you sneak across the back yard. So close to being inside, you're frustrated to find the kitchen window locked. For a moment you consider forcing it open, but know better then to try that. Looking around, you prepare to sneak around to find another way in when the latch unhooks and the window slides open.


"Welcome back."

John is standing by the sill, offering a hand out. His tired smirk makes you return it, despite everything, and you accept the offer.

...

[2/3]

"The missy is going to be pretty pissed at you," John yawns, picking up his flashlight. "She said you were supposed to be back by sunset." You shrug, but with the experiences shared between both of you it's obvious that you weren't up to any good.


"Ah, well I'm sure she won't mind now that you're actually here. She's asleep upstairs with the girls right now, or she's supposed to be. Guess I can finally hit the sack now too, guessin' you don't need anything? John asks, but you're too busy looking for his friend that you nearly forget to answer. You expect to see him around somewhere, but the fresh cut stretching across John's cheek lets you know that there's something you missed out on. Something that can apparently wait for morning, not that you mind. For now you let John know that you're good for the moment and that you're going to go upstairs to change, hoping he doesn't notice the dried blood. Leaving him to sit alone in a chair downstairs, you head upstairs. You attempt to make your steps soft, not wanting to wake anyone, not before you can change.


Taking the spare bedroom for yourself, the clothes that traveled with you today are stripped off and replaced by ones that make you feel less guilty. In the corner of the room you recognize the duffel bag, tucked away and packed neatly in the corner. Just a reminder of what you'll have to deal with later, you finally feel the last of your energy leave. Sprawling out on your back in the middle of the floor, dirtied clothes toss aside and shoes following the same, you arm covers your eyes as you try to relax and not think too much. Just in jeans and undershirt, laying in an actual room again, you briefly remember the times when you were a teenager. You quickly bury these away, thinking only about keeping your breathing deep and steady.


...

Having dozed off slightly, you only catch the sound of the door closing. Actually feeling chilly, you don't move from your spot as light footsteps come near. Only when you feel her kneel down do you uncover your eyes to look up at Delilah's sleepy and worried expression.


"...I missed you." she says, taking a seat next to where you lay.

"Sorry." Your voice is just barely loud enough for her to hear, but she accepts the short answer well enough.


"It's fine. I'm just glad you're here."

Silence follows as you try to think of what to say to her right now.

>>621845
Just pull her in close. No need to try and explain yourself now. Let her know you were thinking about her.

>>621845
Give her hand a light squeeze and tell her we're okay.

But... broke promise.

No bakery.

>>622095

Supporting.

>>622526
Thirding

>>622176
This
If she wants to sleep next to us or something she'll ask or just do it
No sense in overstepping her boundaries

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Not moving up, Lawrence reaches over and places his hand atop of yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. It feels like his body is so much warmer than yours, and though the house is a thousand times better than outside you still manage to get chilled easily. You place your other hand on top of his, both to keep him there and to warm it up too.


"Am fine." Being alone in the room, he has no need to speak up louder than a soft whisper. "Broke promise. Sorry."

"I was worried cause I thought you got in trouble or something. You're here now though, so I guess it's fine." You don't want to mention how you couldn't fall asleep and that you were the only one laying awake. "John said you'd probably be a little late anyways so I guess I should have expected it." With that you are trying to tease him, but just a few hours earlier you were a worried mess in the kitchen that needed to be calmed down. Of course after the day you had, Lawrence being so late only added to your stress.


"...sorry." You'd expected, and sort of hoped, that he would have teased you back. It seems that he isn't proud of being so late either. You can bully him about this later, but right now probably isn't the best time.


"I told you it was okay," you try to smile sweetly now, trying to let him know that it really is fine, "You at least brought me something back, right?" Lawrence looks over from the corner of his eyes, not saying anything. You keep trying to smile past the silence, but your facade falls when his free hand makes a flourishing gesture over himself.

"That doesn't count!" you say, grabbing his other hand in both of yours, "You always have to come back! And if you're going to like...present yourself, couldn't you do it like...cooler or something?"


"Am always...cool." he yawns, not bothering to hide it.

"You're lying on the floor right now, that's not really cool-"

"Everything I...do is...cool." Releasing his hand from yours, Lawrence moves to his side and props himself up on an elbow. With another grand gesture, he presents himself as if some wonderful prize.


"You look pretty dorky." you respond, trying not to laugh at it all.

"Sounds like...something an...uncool person...would say." Lawrence has already prepared himself for the barrage of protests you send his way, trying to explain to him why that was rude and untrue. Your defense only comes to a stop when he reaches up and presses a finger against your cheek, "Missed you...too." Annoyed that he knows how to win in these situations, you retaliate by grabbing his hand in both of yours and squeeze as tight as you can. This probably doesn't feel like much to him, but he's done teasing you for now. Instead he watches as you content yourself with kneading into and playing with his hand. You line up the palm of your hand with his, trying to compare the massive size difference.

[1/2]

"You can't even see mine past yours at all." you say, trying to show Lawrence. It seems like he either spaced out or dozed off, snapping to attention when you speak. Seeing how you've entertained yourself for this long doing something so simple must be funny to him, as he chuckles slightly. Seeing him look happy, even when he's so tired, is always something you enjoy seeing and you forgo messing around with his hand in exchange of wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The hand you were holding pulls you in closer, and without saying anything you let Lawrence know just how much you missed him.

...

In the other room, you managed to keep warm by being under blankets and trying not to suffocate under Marilyn's cuddling. Laying next to Lawrence as he lays on the floor, the parts of you pressed up against him are warm enough. Your feet and back are chilly, but not wanted to move out of this yet you don't mention it. Instead you focus on making sure Lawrence's other hand is just as big, making him hold it up so you can compare it against yours. It's hard to in the dark, but you manage to spot the red and roughed up spots on his palm, the slightest impression of a cut in the center. You nearly ask but decide to save it for later, seeing as it's not a big deal. He'd probably just tell you that he got hurt while moving equipment or whatever it was he was supposed to do today.


"You know, I was really looking forward to having something from the bakery brought in," you say, fingers moving from his hand to the hair on his chin. "I looked forward to it all day." That part is a lie, you really just wanted him to come back. He's here now, and in retaliation of making you worry you'll just have to bully him a bit before bed.


"I know. My bad." Lawrence apologizes, letting you touch his face freely, "Ended up...not passing...by there."

"I guess I'll forgive you for that," the short dark hair tickles the tip of your finger, rough and coarse, "Are you going out tomorrow?"

"Just for...a bit," you try to hide your discontent at this answer, tracing the line of his jaw, "Just need...to see...William. Only need...to talk...for an...hour."


"And you're sure about that?" you ask and Lawrence nods, hands moving from his face to his chest so you can rest your chin against them. "Okay. You better not be too long this time."

"Won't be."


"Good, cause if you're out all night again I'll have to be super mad." you speak in a fake and pompous voice, either in an attempt to seem older or more refined. There's a slight pause in the conversation before Lawrence speaks again.

"Anything that...you want?"


You know he's probably asking if there's anything in particular you want him to bring back tomorrow, but you try to think if there's anything you'd like from Lawrence.

File: zuppa-inglese.jpg (33 KB, 590x575)

33 KB JPG

>>623749

That one treat our grandfather used to go on and on about, Zuppa In-... something. Inglese, maybe.

We never got to try it before he died and having Lawrence try it with us would be nice.

>>623749
Him to come back.

Or something from the bakery this time.

>>624313
Supporting
He can make up for today by doing it tomorrow

>>623818
I wish to do unholy things with this dessert, like shovel it into my mouth hole.

"I want you to come back." The first answer that comes to mind, Lawrence responds to it with ruffling your hair and making a mess of it.

"I will." he promises, before adding in, "Anything else?"


"Um, let's see...I guess if you're only going to be gone for a little bit, you should have time to stop by the bakery this time," you emphasize the last part, grinning when Lawrence notices it, "But since you didn't today, you've got to bring back something fancy."

"Like?"


"Like...like zo-...zup-something..." you try to recall the name, getting excited when it finally comes back to you, "Zuppa I-..Inglese! Yeah, bring me back that!"

"What?" Lawrence asks, obviously confused over why the idea of this has you so happy all of a sudden.


"It's delicious! Er, I think it is anyways, I've never got to try it. My grandpa loved it though, he was finally going to get around to making it for my birthday before he died. I think he used to eat it all the time when he was younger, but Grandma made him cut back cause she didn't want him and Dad to get pudgy from eating it so much. That's what he told me anyways," you grin wider as you think about getting to finally try the dessert, "So that means you have to bring it back."


"And if...don't?"

"Then uh, then I'll get to bully you for a week and you're not allowed to stop it." You sound firm on this decision, but as long as he comes back on time and in one piece you couldn't care less what he brought back for you.


"Will try." Lawrence closes his eyes again, breathing deeply. At this point you're just keeping him up, and decide that it's finally time for him to sleep. Noting your prolonged silence, he takes a peek to notice you watching him in the dark. You earn a quick kiss for goodnight and finally allow yourself to settle down properly to sleep.

...

[1/2]

You open your eyes at the sound of the door to the room opening, but when you look back it remains shut. Deciding that it came from the down the hall, you don't worry about it. Some time in the morning now, the room is colder than it was last night and you can even see the frost covering the window. Placing Lawrence's arm from around you to the top of his chest, you get up to look outside.

There's a little bit of snow, looking more like dusted powder on the ground. Going to your bag, you take a sweater out to pull on over your shirt for extra warmth. Noticing how under dressed Lawrence seems right now and knowing you don't do much to keep him warm, the too small blanket you have gets tossed over his body in an attempt to keep him warm. At least while you're gone anyways, you couldn't eat last night from being so worried and it feels like you're starving. Avoiding the floorboards that would creak, you sneak over to the door and into the hallway. Probably too early for the kids to wake up, you try to move quietly to not bother them. It was a tough day for everyone yesterday, and you're sure Aria would appreciate them sleeping in for a bit.


Down the stairs and around the corner, you find John sitting down at the kitchen table. Exchanging a quick good morning to each other, you busy yourself with finding something to eat. One of the few good things to come from the day before was the groceries Mabel managed to bring, and though you hate to admit it you're kind of jealous that she missed the mess that happened. Getting a peanut butter sandwich and even a small glass of juice, you're satisfied with your choice for breakfast. You take a spot at the table, eyeing the gun that lays next to John. Almost calling it Dan's, you remember all the awful things that happened yesterday.


"You alright missy?" Right away you nod, but the question feels awfully serious. Perhaps the two of you are still tired after what happened yesterday, but you can't help but feel like he's watching you closely, as if searching for a lie.

"I'm sleepy and kind of cold, but okay. I hope I am, anyways." you try to smile before taking a bite out of your breakfast, unsure if that answer is good enough for John. It seems to be, as he doesn't try to ask anything further.


It's been a rough last couple of days, and yesterday was no exception. Not so much that you're confused on what happened, but it might make you feel better talking about it with someone. If you don't want to bring any of it up with John right now, then you should find something else to talk about.

>>625203
John's one of the better people to help us cope with these things, so let's get some exposition.

>>625261
Agreed
>>625199
Will anyone even know what Law is asking for?
No smartphones or anything
Seems like muffins or macaroons or something would be better

>>625270
>Will anyone even know what Law is asking for?
Wouldn't put money on it.

>>625261

Supporting as well

>>625270

Possibly. A decent bakery would at least be able to recognize it as Italian and probably have a recipe book on hand for Italian desserts

>>625355
You may be setting your expectations a little high, and even if it were true, special orders are extra.

>>625328
Seems chaotic to incorporate as many post as possible or is that just me?
If it's normal I guess that would explain some or the weirder updates from the archive

>>625400

Doesn't normally happen. I'd assume its a bit of overlap considering the supported vote mentions 'something from the bakery this time.' so Sue just snagged my dessert. Its unimportant whether or not it actually happens I just wanted to throw a bit of fluff in

>>625400
It does happen from time to time, and it can feel a little disruptive to the flow depending. It typically works out, though.

"Do you think he's alright out there?" you ask, trying to avoid looking at the gun as much as you can.


"Dan?" John didn't need to clarify, you both know who you're talking about. Instead of continuing he picks up the gun, looking it over as he turns it in his hands. It's set back down on the table with a sigh. "I can't lie to you missy. I don't know. After he left here I told myself that he wasn't my problem anymore. Well, not my problem again, I guess. Can't keep helpin' everyone who needs it, not when you still have trouble helpin' yourself." To occupy his fidgeting hand John pulls out his lighter, flicking a random flame every once in a while. He sounds bothered by it, but the way he speaks makes it seem like something else is on his mind.


"I'm really sorry about that..." you start to say and the lighter is put down, John trying to wave off your apology before it can begin, "I didn't check the chamber-"

"You made sure the safety was off, back when you first got it. It still worked for us, didn't it? That's all that matter."

"But if it had been off and he shot yo-"


"Then it would have been his fault, not yours. Dan's the one who decided to go do that, nothing you could have done about that. Even if the gun did go off, he'd only have that one bullet. You would have saved you and the girls," John tries to get you to look him in the eyes, making sure you're paying attention before he continues, "You did what you thought was best, and it worked. No one got hurt badly, and that's what matters." He has to add badly, because while you covered your eyes for most of it you watched the fight he had for the gun on the floor. You had to run to the kitchen and away from the scene when the fight turned into pinning Dan down and punching him repeatedly till he could hold the gun no longer.

You know the question that you've had since yesterday is a hard one to ask, but it feels like you still need to know.

[1/2]

"Would you have let him stay if he kept the gun pointed at um...at himself?" There's a pause as John thinks about it, opening his mouth several times only to stop before the first word.

"I think I would have, sad as that sounds."

"Why is that sad...?"


"Cause he'd just do it again, and next time I probably won't be around. But the way it is, he didn't try to hurt himself, and that's why he had to go. Bastard didn't think I was already used to his begging, I can't even believed he tried that." Even as John was forcing Dan out, you remained in the corner trying to avoid seeing or listening to any of it. The pleas only turned even more pathetic when John refused to return the gun to him, though you understood why he did it. Either he was worried that Dan would try to force his way back in, or continue on with his original plan. Either way, it make it feel like there was less guilt for John to carry. You were sent to watch the girls upstairs while, with Aria's help, he made sure every window was locked and came up for a plan in case Dan returned. Both the girls were just as scared as you are, their fears heightened with not knowing what was going on.


John didn't speak much after that, even after Mabel came home with an armful of groceries and confusion over the window being locked. Aria made you stay upstairs with the girls, trying to make sure no one bothered him during this time.


"I wish that didn't have to happen..." you say, returning to your meal. An obvious sentiment, but the only thing you could think to say. John acts like it doesn't hurt him, but deep down inside you know it does. John accepts the comment though, and you choose to remain quiet for his sake. His mood doesn't seem much better now, and even if it's hard to accept you appreciate being told that you did your best. Maybe one day you'll either learn to accept it or make your best better.
As you get up, John says, "Oh, think you could bring me a pill a bit later? Just the next time you come down is fine."


"Oh, yeah. I will." Setting your empty glass in the sink, and reminding yourself that this isn't your home, you leave John to his thoughts. Aria is starting to come down the stairs, offering a quick hello behind her yawns. As you continue past, you hear John stand when she enters the kitchen.

"Glad you're here-"


At the top of the stairs, you hear Mabel getting ready in the first bedroom. She's not much of a morning person, but both of them must have woken up around the same time while the little two seem to still be asleep. Lawrence probably is too, if you were to guess. You should have asked if he'd want to be woken up early or left to sleep as he wants. Not that you wouldn't mind going back to sleep for a bit yourself...

What would you like to do?

>>626115
Let's go cuddle up with Lawrence until he stops being lazy, we can follow him downstairs with a pill for John then.

>>626355

Supporting

>>626115
>>626355
This

Mabel isn't usually too fun to talk to in the morning, not right after waking up. You happily go back to the room with Lawrence, finding him curled up on the side and clutching the blanket to him. Not quite as easy as you would do on a bed, but you slide in behind him, wrapping your arms around his width and burying your face against his back. Everywhere you touch is warm enough to make up for the cold against your own back, and as long as he's sleeping fine this way you don't mind.


Now that you aren't exhausted though, the hard floor and lack of proper heat all around makes it near impossible for you to sleep. As a means to pass the time you close your eyes, doing the best you can for right now. Not that you want to get too selfish, but having a bed once in a while would be nice. Being inside a real house like this just gives you the false sense and security of a real home, but there are constant reminders that you shouldn't even be here right. Still, it'd be nice to have a house like this, or any place really. You'd even settle on a seedy apartment if you had to, so long as everything worked and you weren't living there alone. You're brought out of the fantasy when Lawrence rolls over to face you, the blanket and his arm to pull you in as he mumbles some incomprehensible in his mostly sleepy state. The sudden closeness initially makes you put our your hands, ready to push away. It doesn't take long to remind yourself that everything is fine and that you're safe, it's just a hug. You scold yourself for getting so worked up over something like this, a normal couple wouldn't have this problem. The fluttering feeling in your chest relaxes, and no longer hungry you feel alright just laying here for a bit.


You do keep an ear open for the door, not wanting someone like Marilyn -especially her- to sneak in and catch you like this. After the little surprise she had Lisa draw you yesterday, you'd almost have to applaud her dedication. Almost. For now you've stuffed the papers away, unsure if you should show Lawrence or not. They're cute, and they make you feel a little warm inside looking at them, but the subject matter...it would make you feel weird showing him, right now anyways. You're still appalled by the fact that the dress she drew you in is supposed to match your 'fancy' underwear, a fact that you'll probably leave out if you do end up showing him the images.


Much to your annoyance, Lawrence continues to toss and turn, fidgeting in an attempt to get comfortable. He gives up on the idea of sleep, opening his eyes and looking over to let you know that his pitiful slumber has finally come to an end.

[1/3]

"Good morning." you greet, sitting up so he can do the same. Lawrence yawns and stretches freely, reaching from under the tank to scratch at his chest. The fabric bunching and lifting up around his wrist, you catch a glimpse at the healed scar on his stomach. The one you gave him, of course. Not wanting to look at the reminder of your guilt, you instead stand up to go grab John's medicine.


"I don't know if anyone told you, but Mabel came by with groceries yesterday so there's something you can eat for breakfast downstairs." you say, digging through the more organized bag. Lawrence gets up to peer through the window just as you did earlier, also wondering about the condition outside. "I think it snowed just for a little bit. Is the wind picking up? That'd be awful to walk in."


"Little bit," Lawrence comments, trying to look around from the limited view,"Cold as...hell."

"Yeah, it kind of is," you hold on to the pill, hiding the bottle again, "If you're going out then you better make sure to bundle up. I don't want to see you get sick." Expecting a response, you look to see Lawrence trying to look at something just past his range of view. "Is there something wrong...?"

[2/3]

"...no. Is fine." He finally gives up trying to look at his mystery object, pulling himself away from the window entirely.


"When are you planning on going out?"

"Around noon. When warmer." It's nice to know that he isn't just going to dash off right away, even if he still has to go out. Maybe if he was just going out to work, at a real job, not one where you constantly have to worry every time he goes out. More likely to come back on time, no need to worry if he was caught doing something illegal, a feeling of safety and stability. And maybe if all that happens, you don't have to sneak inside of place and constantly worry about getting caught.


Things could be normal, and you'd like that for once.

As normal as you can be, anyways.

It feels like an awful game, waiting for your aches and pains to return. It's hard to tell what's a normal sort of pain or the signs of 'needing'. Or maybe more 'wanting'; not that you'd really like to find out, and you sure as hell don't like the way it feels, but you're still not sure what would happen if you kept denying yourself blood. The idea that you wouldn't be able to survive without a supply of it is a terrifying one, to the point of almost making you sick.

"You okay?" you hear Lawrence before you feel the back of his hand press against your forehead, checking for a fever. The thoughts must have surfaced on face, and as hard as it may be you put them away for now.


"I'm good, I guess I'm just a little worried...about a lot. That's kind of weird for me to say, huh? What do I have to be worried about..."

"A lot." Lawrence says grimly, and you look to the ground instead of answering. He's right, and you don't need to say it.

"You have a lot to worry about too." is all you can think of to say, something else that didn't need to be said.


Remembering how his hand was messed up last night, you wonder if it would be a good idea to try and question him about yesterday. Ask how he got hurt, or why he was out so late, or just what exactly he was doing.

Or, since you're alone and not having to worry about two pesky brats trying to spy on you, if there's anything else you'd want to talk to him about.

Maybe it'd just be for the best if you both headed downstairs already though

>>628755
>his hand was messed up
We can be the hero nurse and get him all better!

>>628755
It's just a superficial injury, probably something he could've easily gotten moving something wrong. Maybe just see if it's healing all right.

But otherwise, best get our butts downstairs and pretend it wouldn't be nicer to just curl up into a big ball.

>>628755

He probably doesn't want to talk about his hand and as much as we worry it isnt good for us to pry ALL the time is it?

Let's head downstairs for now.

"Can I see your hand real quick?" you ask, knowing that it would be annoying if you were always trying to pry. Lawrence looks at his hand, like he's about to tell you it's fine, but relinquishes it over anyways. The red isn't as bright now, though the small area of roughed up skin remains in the area between thumb and forefinger. Bringing his hand up, you pause for a moment, trying to think if this would go against your promise with Sam. Deciding that it doesn't, the minor scrape comes up to rest against your lips. Barely a lick and more like a kiss, you feel slightly embarrassed by your actions over something so minor.


You're ready to apologize for doing something so silly, but can only muster out a short and breathy laugh. Not always, but there are times when you're around Lawrence that you really feel inexperienced with everything, like you never know if what you're doing is right or if it's just weird. Maybe it's because you have so little first hand knowledge with it, or maybe because you're just a strange person in general, but you can't help but want to ask if what you did was okay or if you said something weird. If you can't help the blood craving, you have to try and do everything else normal.


"I just wanted to make sure you're okay." you explain, releasing him. It's just a small scrape, not like anything is broken or missing. You'd get something like that falling off a bike, if you knew how to ride one anyways. Instead of retreating Lawrence's hand travels up your cheek to push the loose hair behind your ear, a gesture that makes your face feel warm.


"Am fine. Will be...safe outside." His fingers move to press beneath your chin and encourage you to look up and pay full attention to him. "You stay...out of...trouble today." Lawrence grinning at this obvious teasing, you can't help but look away with a puffed out cheek.


"I don't go looking for it..." you mumble in response, and though you try to keep a straight face you can't help but giggle quietly and try to fight Lawrence off when he messes up your hair. "Stop! Ah! Stop it! You jerk! Now I'm going to look awful today!" you say as you retreat back, trying to fix the splayed out locks.


"Just today?" The initial shock of his statement must have shown on your face, as Lawrence has to take the time to try and reassure that you do, in fact, usually look cute. You only accept his apology in exchange for an early goodbye kiss, seeing as you won't be able to get one downstairs. He obliges, letting it linger for a few seconds to satiate you before pulling away. Giving a toothy grin, you feel slightly more content and lead the way downstairs.

[1/3]

Passing by the nursery, it sounds like Lisa is up and causing a small ruckus. Mabel is doing her best to handle it, the younger girl more eager and hyped up rather than throwing a fit or crying. Since you had to deal with the kids yesterday you don't feel so bad about leaving her to the task. Down the steps, Aria is peeking out through the front window. She doesn't look concerned, in fact it appears to be boring for her. Guessing that Aria is just there for a cautionary watch, you go straight to John with his painkiller.


...

"Thanks for that." John swallows the pill with water, doing it properly for the first time. You still keep a watch on his throat, making sure he's not trying to sneak around again.


"Has it been hurting?"

"Kinda on and off, but that might be cause of the pills. Sure as hell ain't makin' up the stairs on my own yet, but it ain't gonna kill me either," John looks over to where Lawrence is going through the short supply of groceries, trying to find something suitable for breakfast. "You headin' out again today?"


"Just for a bit." You answer for him, catching John's attention, "I asked earlier."

"Oh, right. Should have figured you'd know." He doesn't sound upset or anything along those lines, but you can't help but feel weird about the way John said that. "Gonna be out all day?"


"He...said just for a little bit this time..." you don't really like how he's asking you instead of Lawrence, but seeing as how his hands are currently full it'd just be easier this way. Still, it feels as though you are in trouble for something, even if you have no clue what for.


"And if Sarah stops by when she's supposed to...really hope she's on time, but that woman has her hands full at the moment. Couldn't really blame her if she runs late..." John must be trying to think of a schedule of sorts, keeping track of who is where the best he can. "Dammit, gotta make sure I stay awake too. Makes the pain in my hip feel like nothing but if it sure as hell doesn't try to make me nod off-" Looking just past your head, you follow John's gaze over to the doorway. Almost missing it you spot Lisa's face just popping around the corner, looking in on the scene. Realizing she's been spotted, she tries to duck back around but is chased away by an annoyed Mabel.

[2/3]

"I told you not to run off yet-"


"Joooooohn!" Lisa calls out, running over with only one sock on and a shirt borrowed from one of the girls dangling down. There's hardly any time for him to prepare for her leap, making you flinch too at his effort to catch her. Not letting Lisa drop, it does require some grunting and teeth gritting to keep his stance up.

"What uh -shoot...-, what's up missy?" John asks, trying to hide the pain.


"I missed you!" Lisa attempts to say with a yawn, rubbing her eyes. Knowing that he's going to be preoccupied for a bit, you see Lawrence sit at the table with his breakfast. Ready to join him, you catch wind of Aria calling out to her girlfriend.


"Hey, I need to talk to you-"

"Aw jeez, am I in trouble?" Mabel asks, preparing for trouble. Aria shakes her head though, motioning her to come over so they can speak.


If you go up the stairs and hang out around the top, you'd be able to hear their conversation. The only reason you would consider this is the fact that you can see Aria's mouth move to say 'Lawrence' at one point. Just pretend to go upstairs for something and see what they're saying...

Or just stay down here with John and Lawrence and let them have their conversation in private.

I totally did not forget to hit send

>>630686
Let's do our best impression of Marilyn, always sneaking around hearing things she shouldn't.

>>630686

Time for sneeki breeki, as our twice removed uncle Boris used to say.

>>630686
Let's listen in
>>631141
Antisupporting

>>631461

Antisupporting your hatred of proud Slavic uncle Boris

>>631570
The zuppa inglese skit was weird enough
Don't need to try to upstage it

>>631594

>skit

It's an Italian dessert. She had an Italian grandfather. I hardly think it's a stretch to think he'd tell her about a dessert from his home country

>>631884
Not what I mean
The whole thing felt awkwardly written
If she hadn't had it since her grandfather died it might have worked better but instead her grandfather just never gave her one of the best comfort foods in the world
And I don't want to read another awkwardly written interjection for the sake of a meme

>>631905

People die all the time before they get to do things so I'm no miffed by it.

Also I've already told Sue to ignore the Boris thing so no need to worry about it my dude

Peeling your eyes away from the girls, you begin to back out of the kitchen.

"I'll be right back," you say, "I'm just going to run upstairs real quick..." You're trying not to sound guilty, like the only reason you're going up is to spy on a conversation. There's no questions asked, and you realize that they have no reason to suspect you of being up to something. That makes walking up the stairs harder, like your shoulders feel heavier from that thought. The conversation Aria started comes to pause as you go up, obviously waiting for you to get out of the way. Just up to the top step and around the banister, then you'll be out of sight.


Taking one last look at them, you nearly jump upon looking forward again, Marilyn already crouched down in the place you were planning to take. Buttercup held securely in her arms, she offers a quick but guilty smile, putting a finger up to her mouth to remind you to stay silent. Not wanting to make any unnecessary noise and causing the conversation to travel else where, you begrudgingly take the spot next to her. Motioning you to lean in, Marilyn comes up close to your ear to whisper, "I think they're talking about Law..." You nod, having already known that part. The location upstairs is a little harder to listen from than you expected, but much easier than trying to do it from the kitchen.


"...-find out anything about it?" Aria asks, voice low. You can't see either of them, but that's fine. So long as you can hear well enough, that's all that matters.

"Kept asking, but he wasn't gonna say anything about it."

"Do you have any idea though? Cause if that's why he's been going out..."

"Hey, I really tried to get him to spill the beans. If he was just moving around some like, prescriptions or Maryjane it wouldn't be so scary-"


"Yes it would!" Aria interrupts, sounding even more worried. Marilyn turns to you, confused by all this. You've got only an inkling of an idea about what they're talking about, but you continue to listen anyways.

[1/2]

"Okay yeah, him selling anything like that is pretty awful but..damn, I don't know. If we hadn't found somewhere to go after getting kicked out, I would have considered bringing stuff back from Mexico or something-"


"There's no way you would have," Aria scolds, trying to keep her voice down, "But, shoot, we're not talking about us right now..."

"Yeah. But if he is doing something like that...fuck, I don't want to see him get kicked out. He's been a good guy so far, and like...like damn, we're at a pretty low point. If it brings in money..."


"And if he keeps doing it? If it really was just once or twice, I'd be willing to ignore it. But you were the one who told me, it's easy to go back to that when you'd down on your luck," she's speaking rather grimly now, a tone that even Marilyn can feel, "And we've already been scraping the barrel for a while."


"I know dammit, I..." Mabel sighs, knowing there's not much else she can say, "I know, but if this isn't going to be a problem-"

"It could become one though."

"It's not right now. I'm not even completely sure that's what he's doing, and trying to bring it up when it's actually nothing wouldn't really be a good idea. It's not a problem right now, so we should probably just focus on what are problems, you know? Not saying forget about it, but just...like don't start a witch hunt or whatever. I kinda know what to look out for, and if I for sure know what's going on then...then I'll bring it up, okay?"


Aria agrees to this, though neither of them sound too happy. You remain in place a while longer, waiting to see if there is anything else to the conversation. When it sounds like someone is heading towards the stairs you grab Marilyn and race her into the nursery, closing the door as quickly and quietly as possible. You can't help but hold your breath, ready for one of them to walk in and ask what you've been doing. Instead the bathroom door opens, and you let out a shaky breath. A tug on your sleeve brings you back to look at Marilyn, all too left out of the loop.

"What were they talking about?" she whispers, waiting for an answer with a worried look.


What do you tell her?

>>632427
Seems they're worried about what Lawrence is out doing, probably because he doesn't really talk-... offer any explanation as to what. Not like we don't feel the same way.

Might be worth mentioning to Lawrence that his frequent excursions are raising questions.

>>632638

Supporting

Just a heads up;

I will be gone Friday till Sunday evening, so new thread will go up either that evening or on Monday.

Sorry about that!