rackofbadcds | give it here, don't hold back now give it here, don't say nothing just give it here

[

At the sound of someone walking in, he looked up.

Then he stared.

Like really fucking hard.

Of everything that went through Vic's head being in ~~RP Land~~ here, one of the things he thought of often was getting back at the asswipe who put him here. The same asswipe who (by Vic's logic) was the reason why everything got bent over and fucked in the ass in the first place. And now it was his lucky goddamn day. He didn't have to imagine beating the kid for days and days until he was dead anymore, because Mr. Orange was here and he could do it right now.

The pause wasn't much of one. You could barely call it tense. He was already going for his gun.]

[Oh come the fuck on no one's set off a goddamn alarm! No one's about to set a man on fire! Did they have to resort to drawing arms? Who the fuck are you kidding, Newendyke. This was Mr. Blonde.]

Dead men can't die twice.

[Yep. Talk. Freddy had always been good at talking. Of course it worked best on Mr. White and Mr. Pink to an extent. Too bad this man was neither. Freddy put his fingers on his own gun--oh shit no wait he emptied that clip out on the man in front of him. Fuuuuck.]

[NOPE.

No reply. Still sitting, he aimed for Freddy's knee and pulled the trigger. Whether or not he was gonna connect was another question. He had been wondering if being dead meant you could still take a bullet. Guess he'd find out.]

[WHY IS THIS HAPPENING.

And fuck if Freddy's going to find out first hand if that bullet'll pass through him or just make him bleed another fucking gallon all over the floor. He ducks behind the counter for cover and hopes to god this is the kind of diner that's packing a shotgun behind the register. Whoops, looks like it's not. Where the fuck is the staff going?!

Another downside; 911 probably doesn't work here, that'd be some long ass distance calling.]

[Gunfire can really rouse a mind from just about anything. Mr. White, Larry "Two Guns" comes up out of a hazy state of mind. When did he decide he needed to eat.

Better yet, when the hell did he decide he'd ever want to stroll into a place that's in the process of getting shot up. Nevermind that. Seeing that fucker Blonde before even seeing Orange there has him with both arms drawn. Full or empty, he'll find out the logistics in a second.]

At it again? You sick sack of shit.

[WELL GAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLEE, HI EVERYBODY! THIS IS GONNA TURN INTO SOME SERIOUS KILLING JAR BULLSHIT only good and better acted and Michael Madsen doesn't have that smoker's rasp going on yet. Blonde stands up as cool and casual as he's ever been to follow Orange and get a better shot at him.]

Fuck. Your piece of shit ass is fast when it's not half-dead, ain't it?

[So he finally says mockingly. A slow smile pulls wide on his face. It looked more like he was playing a good joke than he was planning what he was planning. And so far, that was shooting Freddy in both kneecaps, kicking the shit out of him, shoving him in a trunk and driving him somewhere quiet, then kicking the shit out of him some more for a few days.

As far as Vic was concerned, Freddy was gonna get it ten times worse than Nash ever did. He shoots again, this time as a taunt. He purposely misses, but it's still damn close enough.

Then a familiar voice catches his ear. He looks up at White. It falters for half a second, just to process the situation, then the smile comes back strong.]

Gang's halfway here. Hi, White.

[He doesn't hesitate to aim and shoot at White this time. They were both pieces of shit in his eyes now. Orange was just top-tier so far.]

[What a vivid imagination Vic has...Freddy can live without it thanks.] Fuck you, scumbag!

[Freddy yells from his sadly not so threatening or even aggressive hiding place. The second bullet embeds itself in the fucking wall right where he can see it. God he needs to arm himself stat. No shot gun. No goddamn anything--wait.]

Larry?

[Real names. Sorry man. It just stuck with him. Simply knowing the old man's there is both a comfort and a near-piss inducing revelation. The man could just as easily side with Blonde for what he did. Motherfucker does that asshole ever stop shooting shit up?! Freddy can tell the bullets aren't aimed at him this time, which gives him the window of opportunity to put distance between them.]

[Hi? Hi. Motherfucker goes on and blotches the heist on his end--aside from there being a cop among them--and all he's got to say is hi? Without even hesitating, Mr. White pulls the trigger. Hah. Well there's one bullet that's going right toward Blonde.

He hears his own name come on out and there's not too many people who know it. And even fewer with that sort of tone of voice. Mr. White dives into a booth for cover.

Orange is here too. When people say I'll see you in hell, they seldom mean it this way.]

I don't do reunions.

[Thanks man, he had a lot of time to think about it. Which, considering what he did to Marvin Nash on the fly, let him get a lot more creative with the details.

The thing about being a psycho is that you usually don't think you're a psycho. You don't wake up thinking 'hot diggity, I'm gonna be fucking crazy today'. And if you did, there was one of two options: melodramatically wrestle your inner self, or not care. Blonde certainly didn't. Hell, he didn't even acknowledge it. Anything he did was perfectly sound to him. And that's why all his blame for what went wrong were going towards Orange and White. Also bullets. Especially the bullets.

Since at the moment they were all magical (and dead), Vic managed to duck behind what was his nearby seat. Tiny pieces of debris his what was left of his pancakes. He briefly eyed them, before positioning his gun properly.]

Larry, huh?

[That warranted a light laugh. This was turning into a standoff, but Vic didn't plan on it being that way for long. But he just as shit wasn't getting shot to pieces again. He just had to assess things. He was nuts, but he sure as hell wasn't stupid ~~arguably~~. Orange was all he was after right now. So far, he didn't know what White did. He knew Eddie and Joe were dead, but the how's and who's were still a mystery. But if White was going to point a gun at him and get in his was, he was gonna keep shooting back.]

Look, Larry. [Ooh. That's really fun to say like an asshole.] I could give less of a fuck about you. All I want's Orange.

[And that wasn't a negotiation.]

[Was that meant for Blonde or Orange? Oh fuck don't start getting emotional about it, Newendyke, don't be fucking stupid. There's a professional psychopath on one side and a professional sociopath on the other. Anyone else might say the two are of the same stock, Blonde sure didn't hold him while he was fucking dying. Blonde also didn't put a gun to his head. Think fast man, think. A flash of old metal catches his eye, maybe luck's on his side after all, someone's left a small revolver behind. Looks like a woman's gun to be honest but fuck, any port in a storm. It's fully loaded.]

He's a fuckin' loose cannon, man! You saw what he did!

[The implication being Blonde won't hesitate to take White out. There's no other card Orange can play in this position. Fuck Larry's the only guy he's ever seen take two men out in a Mexican stand off. The fact of the matter is, Lawrence Dimick chose to take him out with one shot before getting shot up himself. He's pretty fucking sure anything Blonde would want to do to him is ten times fucking worse. Please don't fucking abandon him, Larry.]

Orange and me, we got business. So you're gonna have to fucking wait if you think I'm gonna step aside.

[Seeing as Orange is here somewhere. Their beef goes far deeper because he held this man's hand and gunned down long standing friends. Vic may have his wretched life's debt and the souls of the poor folks from the jewelry store hanging on over their heads but they don't have Mr. White's unsatisfied dishonor.]

We can do this one of two ways, Blonde. We gun it out [like they do in the pictures] or come to an agreement.

[Has Hell frozen over? Biding his time while hidden White takes a look at what he's packing exactly. There are clips on him. Well, a clip on him. Better think about each target wisely.]

[Orange's bitching would have been commented on if Blonde cared. Actually, most of what he did could be summed up like that: Vic just didn't care. He spared his fucks for the people that actually mattered to him, as well as his own sense of loyalty. Otherwise? He did whatever the hell he wanted.

And right now, he wanted an eye for an eye.

A lot. And f he knew what really happened to Joe and Eddie, it would have been a lot more.

Looking at his gun from where he was keeping cover, he wasn't worried about ammo (for as long as he'd been here he usually kept enough on him, just in case). He planned on showing White exactly how many fucks he gave, but first he wanted to see what the old man was driving at. He leaned back against his hiding place, listening. Alert, but listening.]

Like what.

[Business, he says...that doesn't sound good at all. White's talking though and Blonde's not shooting at him so that's got to be some kind of good sign. Maybe Freddy can wait it out, except look what good waiting it out did him last time, and who the fuck else can he expect to come crashing through to save his ass? He's got to accept maybe he really is on his fucking own this time.

This time Freddy keeps his mouth shut, well aware of Blonde's blatant dismissal, White's too actually. Not that Orange has any right to exert just about fucking anything right now. It's almost like he's bleeding out on the warehouse floor again, listening to every last fucking detail when he's not actually knocked out. Hey, that's the tactic that took Blonde out the first time, maybe second time's a charm. Freddy bides his time, wanting to hear what Larry has to offer the psychopath too.]

Like civilized people.

[Which is not fucking likely. Pink was right. They're about as bad as fucking niggers in their own damn hood. They don't even need the cops or the white folks for there to be trouble. The sheer existence of a cop here agitates things. Orange isn't going away any time soon. This situation won't be getting any more fucking simple.]

You got him here first. Sure. I can tell though you wanna do him in.

[Something that White has already had a fraction of satisfaction doing. What's one more dead former friend?]

Except after that, I'm sure there's not gonna be much left.

[FUCKING WHITE PEOPLE.]

Not after a couple days.

[He says like it's the most casual thing on the planet. There's a smile to his voice. He REALLY likes the idea of torturing Orange, okay.

So color him actually curious about what Mr. White has to say. Not so much out of the fact he was actually concerned about civil discussion--he's pretty positive somewhere down the road this would be the same hot air White barked at him before--but for now he would listen until whenever it was he decided he didn't want to.

It didn't make him any less alert, though. He only had rough ideas of where the two still were. He didn't HEAR them move. But he sure as shit wasn't getting shot to pieces again.]

Edited 2012-06-10 08:47 (UTC)

[A couple of days he says. A. Couple. Of. Days.]

Fuck you, you scum sucking son of a bitch!

[Freddy barks out at Blonde almost like he's goddamn offended. He's giving in to impulse rather than self-preservation...as if Blonde would hold back from torturing him just because Freddy's not mouthing off anyway. He's damned if he does and damned if he don't, there's only the lesser of two evils in this situation.

Aw hell, he doesn't want to think of White as an evil.]

Which brings around my point.

[Hard to miss that outburst from Orange. White only slightly looks in the direction of his voice. Blonde deserves all the attention he can give because he's the most trigger happy.]

What I gotta say or do is likely not gonna take so long.

[Easing upright slowly in the booth he grits his teeth. That might hurt later.]

You got somethin' to say to me too Orange?

[Chances are Blonde is gonna wanna stick around. Sadists like to watch. It directly conflicts with Larry's need for more bloody closure and might just leave him as exposed. Psychopath that he is, any hint of blood or pain in the water he might wanna join in no matter who he's sticking it to.]

[... PFFFT. Okay, congradu-goddamn-lations, Freddy. You got Vic to laugh. Granted, that was pretty easy to do but that's besides the point.]

Aw, kid. You're breakin' my heart. [There's a sound, light thump as he pats his chest. Not Freddy could see from the wall of the booth Vic was hiding behind.] You're getting it ten times worse than that other cop ever did, you know that, right?

[His casualness took a dark undertone that was hard to miss. He would have said more, but White's proposition had his attention. ~~Since mun is an idiot and hadn't made up her mind about whether Blonde knew what White did until recently I mean~~ When he thought about it, his beef wasn't with White. White was a yappy little dog who's buttons were fun to push, but he wasn't the one who managed to pull the incredible feat of pissing Blonde off.

Besides, White had him on the money. This sounded like it was gonna be entertaining to listen to. But he wasn't stupid either. He wasn't taking. The first sign anyone was gonna point guns at him, he was gonna shoot back. That's why when he heard White move, a moment later he did the same--gun still in his hand. He didn't plan to shoot yet. ... Because, you know, this being the unpredictable guy makes that super reassuring.]

Nothing cute, Mr. White.

[SUCK A DICK BLONDE GWWAAARGUHGH. IT'S NOT YOUR HEART HE CARES ABOUT BREAKING.

And that wasn't supposed to be funny!! Freddy huffs in an effort to control his own temper. It's nothing compared to what these two can unleash, if anything Freddy's temper is more likely to get himself killed. Larry's voice snaps him out of all that teeth grinding and snarling Blonde evokes. Effective enough to make his expression fall. He very slowly and carefully peeks half his head above the counter.]

Here? With him?

[The answer is yes, but to have to do that with Blonde just a step away feels sickening. That guy shouldn't be privy to whatever the fuck he and White have. Actually it just makes Freddy uneasy because he's convinced there's a possibility White won't let him die (again, if possible) before Blonde gets to have his way with him.]

I'm sorry man, what else can I fuckin' say?

[Here with Blonde is all they got. Like some sort of a junk yard dog, he'll not wanna let go of his prize. Larry doesn't give that many fucks about what Blonde wants. It's the sheer elevated danger he brings. Sweat is gathering on Larry's brow. His collared shirt feels strangling. Loosening it would be a temporary relief. The whole fucking pressure of this powder keg will not let up so easy or diffuse.

Really though, let's not put all of the blame on the oddly calm, lanky son of a bitch that's got his guns keenly drawn. Mr. White's body count is for the fateful day is just as impressive. Two cops, Joe, Eddie and Mr. Orange himself could be paired with Mr. Blonde's frenzy.]

Do I look like I do cute?

[Honest question. The fuck would he want to do? Run off like a white knight? Nope. Feeling embolden by his own comfort in the situation he sits up. ...He's already dead right? What's the worst that can happen?

What else. Good question, Mr. Orange. His mouth flattens to a line.]

Did you get what you wanted?

[They were almost friends. The old man threw so much away to stand up for the little guy. Being in the business of playing people for fools it's an aching injury still this side of death.]

[LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOokay.

Mr. Blonde shrugged at the question. He really didn't have an answer he cared enough to give. As he moves to sit back at the booth and in front of his plate, he eyes Orange with a short but dark look. He knew it would say enough.

His gun in one hand and a fork now in the other, he decides he's gonna finish what's left of his pancakes while he listens. While he picks out or at least eats around the gun debris in the syrup now.

Goddamn these are good pancakes.]

[Who da fuq you think you are, Blondie?? If it weren't for White he might have taken a moment to express more displeasure over Blonde. Who sits around to finish his fucking pancakes in the middle of a stand off, oh right the kind of guy who cuts off ears for fun and tries to burn people alive.]

Choke on it, asshole.

[That's for Vic, not Larry. Look at the kid do a near 180 when he turns his attention to the oldest man of the bunch.]

I didn't want anybody to die, Larry.

[Except for Blonde. And as if being alive is the most important part or something, you know let's just forget about infiltrating a heist undercover and likely sending everyone but himself to some (more) years of incarceration. Hey might he have a clear shot at Blonde's head from here??]

[Blonde has got to go. That much is apparent. Surely he knows that getting shot is in someone's future. Being dead too, he won't die. Maybe he'd stay down some. That would be just the ticket for this scenario. Then White and Orange would have time and privacy to truly have it out.

Except...if White is shot and down the kid is completely in Blonde's hands for god knows what.

Larry squints and wets his lips. Time for a smoke. Does he still have them? Thank God. With all the cool calm he can muster, maybe not the same as eating a fucking pancake at a stand off, but pretty fucking cool.]

What did you think was gonna happen? Huh?

[The click of his lighter seems too loud right now. Brown eyes framed in focused wrinkles flit to Blonde.]

You think everyone was gonna stay friends and be all hunky-dory?

[WOW JEALOUS MUCH????? Somebody's a cranky fucker. Come on Freddy maybe one day you'll be as slick as Vic. Maybe you'll even get pancakes.

He briefly eyes Orange and cracks another smile because ohhh, the sound of himself pissing off cops brings joy to his heart. For a guy he wanted to turn into a paraplegic amputee, he had to admit. He knows how to make him laugh.]

They make good shit here. You should try it sometime. If you're good maybe I'll get you some on the way out.

[But oh, he knew he wasn't going to get what he wanted without a fight. This was barely a compromise and it wasn't gonna last. But at least it was fun to watch for now. From what he had figured, if--WHEN the shit hit the fan, he could get White between the eyeballs from where he was. Then he could incapacitate Orange while he was at it. Orange had a good shot at Blonde too, but Blonde was on the alert... even if he didn't exactly look it.

He briefly glances to Orange again at what he had directed to White, with the usual blank unreadability he tended to give. Blonde knew what it meant, but it had him coming up with new ways to make this guy choke on his own blood. Regardless he doesn't say anything. He keeps listening, eating. Then White looks at him. He looks back. He just raises his eyebrows slightly, wordlessly telling him not to try anything.]

[. . . . . . . NO. God. Freddy darts a glance back Vic's way only to narrow his eyes and bark. Again.]

Fuck off.

[He knows Blonde will do no such thing but Jesus the kid really needs to get it out of his system. Blonde can rile him up just by existing in the same breathing space. The hardest part to admit is right up until the alarm went off, Orange thought Blonde was a pretty cool decent guy. What a fucking surprise, about as surprising as him being a goddamn rat. God, Larry, he's so fucking sorry.]

No. No...I didn't think some asshole was gonna hit his fuckin' berserk switch.

[Yep that's it, direct some of that blame back onto Blonde. Excellent plan, Newendyke.]

behold i am the most inconsistent rp writer in the universe

lolol that's okay....i normally write in present tense for tags 8(b

I don't even know what I do so WE ARE ALL GOOD

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