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

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

[It was an uninteresting enough morning to pop into a diner for breakfast and get himself something to eat. The joint had the potential to be familiar. It echoed somewhere you'd expect a certain honey bunny to come out, point a gun in your face, and start screaming at you. So far, that didn't happen. Vic almost wished it would.

He sat with his pancakes quietly, figuring out what the hell he would do today. Things got pretty boring when there wasn't any weird bullshit to at least watch. To Blondie, this was still some kind of bass-ackwards afterlife (still sorely lacking in his brother). He could do whatever the shit he wanted. Hell, maybe he'd smoke 23 packs of cigarettes today. Look at all the fucks he aquired.

... You know what? Maybe he'd find some clothes today. As much as he liked how he looked in the suit, he didn't want to wear it for the rest of his life. After life. Whatever.]

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[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.]

[Jesus fucking Christ, Blonde. The menus are strewn all over the place. If they truly wanted to break and talk over the contents of the menu or order something. (Like the staff is even in the building anymore.) That's quite enough out of you, if they wanted some insightful food talk, they would turn on the Food Network. Fuck.

He takes the first long drag of a Chesterfield.]

Everyone was gonna do time. One way or the other. That's what you wanted. Don't bullshit.

[Smoking isn't trying anything, Blonde. Is this how you wanna go down again, White?

Or would you rather take out the crazy piece of shit's fun and fall Orange. Now wouldn't that be a kick in the pants?]

[but y u all mad tho.]

You think I told you before back up showed up cause I'm stupid?

[Watch out he's the youngest and the smallest of the three. He's very carefully making his way down to the end of the counter but not far enough to leave himself exposed just yet. Freddy's weighing his options and the probability of White taking his side if he makes a sudden attempt at disarming the pancake eater.]

[Sweet cigarette between his lips. Now is a good time. Larry is moving closer now too. He's attempting to make it like a casual stroll. Man, coffee would have been great. Black and piping hot right on out of the pot except someone's gone and scared the fuck out of everyone else in the diner.

That'd be them.

Fuck it. White keeps his gun on Blonde once more as he's perched having his breakfast.]

Stupid sure is catching around here.

[Don't think that Orange is off of the hook. There's a gun on him too. He can smell those pancakes. Mmm. Someone knew what they were doing...because Larry's not so sure.]

[Blame the lack of coffee on Orange's (who, for the record, Blonde also thought was alright until he got killed) backstabbing ass for getting the balls to show up in the first place.

Also.

Guys.

Guys.

He kind of notices what you're doing.

The click of his gun happens as he nonchalatantly holds it up against the table, pointed at White.]

No cute stuff, I said.

[Wut. Larry. Wut. Was that sarcasm...Freddy still likes you, you know, don't make his wagging tail droop any lower from the awful transgressions he's already committed. And for the record, regardless of how on the level they were with each other prior to these various incidents, Orange is fully confident he's the better man because he's not a fucking psycho gosh. He's still a bit conniving though. Case in point:]

Larry get down!

[Up he goes right above the counter to open fire on Blonde. He's got less than ten bullets to his name this time so Freddy has to make them count.]

[Cute? That is cute? Consider the motherfucking source. He is intent to lay one right in his face for comments like that. This won't be the last time he has a gun pointed at him. White can divide his attention enough between Blonde and Orange.

The younger of the bunch gets the drop on em. Again. Larry throws himself under a table, knocking a chair or two askew.]

[White, what are you talking about. You're a goddamn hugga wugga boo boo teddy bear--WHOAH HEY fuck no.

FUCK no.

He wasn't letting this shortstop piece of shit get him again. As soon as he saw the gun come up, he leapt out of his seat and on the floor. By some goddamn miracle he hadn't been hit. He must have been fast enough, and lucky.]

Nice try, you fuck!

[Gun still in his hand he doesn't waste time shooting back at Orange. He still didn't aim for the vitals. For a dead guy Vic's aim was still damn good, and he didn't want Freddy dead yet. Dead again. Wait, I confused myself.

WHATEVER Blonde scrambles back to his feet and gets to cover behind a square pillar, shooting all the way there. In the mean time the radio, which had been playing commercials up til now, suddenly decided it was Quentin Tarantino-style fight time because a familiar song started playing.]

Edited 2012-06-11 21:24 (UTC)

Get outta here!!

[Freddy yells at Larry, hand on the hammer to keep firing the goddamn thing. He's at a disadvantage, working a fucking revolver in this fight, but he's already betrayed the old man once. It's the least the kid can do. And anyway it gives him an excuse to fucking go all out on Blonde, Freddy doesn't pay one fucking ounce of attention at the bullets flying his way. He doesn't even feel that shit despite the flash of fire and debris splintering as he advances on the much taller man.]

[Run? Now? He should. He could have run from the beginning and he didn't. The continual bang bang going on would be the perfect reason as to why he's choosing to stick to the spot. Except that's not it. White could have left the kid after the first free for all. He didn't. He could have just left him at the rendezvous and he didn't.

Even knowing what he knows, he wants to see this shit to the bloody end. In death or whatevers gonna come, he doesn't want it to involve Mr. Blonde. They've got to take him out.

Larry props himself up enough on the table to fire toward the pillar. It's not a good place to be by this table. Not one little bit. He tries to worm to a booth and...

Holy fuck. Did that? Yup. Just got shot. Except how is this possible. Nothing doing. Is that blood? Maybe. It doesn't feel like a wound, it doesn't feel much like anything. Encouraged (and scared shitless) he keeps on going until...

Click. Click. Click.]

Shit.

[Ducking on into a booth again, farther back.]

[Blonde was already out of ammo. Weird. He did the math, he should have had a couple more shots to go. At least he had a couple more clips in his jacket pocket. White and Orange were both ganging up on him now, and he was going to need it. It didn't suprise him. He wasn't always there when White was caring for Orange after the heist, but before he could tell they were getting pretty buddy-buddy. In their own way. Vic couldn't always hang around long for anything that wasn't important, as the rest of his time got spent getting Scagnetti off his back. But even then he could still figure. White was worse of a moron than Vic thought. Fuck his closure. Orange was getting what was coming to him, and if Vic had to gun down White to do it? He wouldn't think twice. He just had to pay attention to both of them.

He jammed his first fresh clip in his gun. He must have been lucky a few seconds before, he had been in Orange's line of fire long enough. For now he didn't put much thought into it. First he had to worry about Orange trying to play a hero. Real fucking noble, kid. It wasn't saving you.

White's clicking was music to his ears. He grins, and pops out of hiding to squeeze a couple rounds off at White. He would have gotten more if Blonde didn't catch Orange advancing for him. Vic's smirk widens. He shot and fires at his gut. They were too close now, this one HAD to hit.]

[GOD DAMMIT LARRY WHY YOU DO.

BANG.

Right in his fucking gut. Again. The shock of it freezes Freddy for a fraction of a second and in that second he really undoubtedly believes he doesn't feel any pain because of the adrenaline rush. It's enough to let him fire the last round in his gun at Blonde too. His aim is for center mass, just as he's been trained by the LAPD's finest. Yet the kid's still fucking standing, unharmed, unshot, and unless he's hallucinating so is Blonde.]

. . . . .

[Hey are those his pancakes on the floor?]

[Clips! He's got to have at least one left. The newly lit Chesterfield is on the checkered floor somewhere. Pity. There is a fresh round being shot off, Larry's not about to miss it. Reloading he forces himself upright again to fire at Blonde. A sidelong gaze Orange's way shows that he's...somehow in the same boat.

Just what the flying fuck is going on around here?]

Jesus Christ.

[As if anyone can hear that. Maybe running would be a good idea.]

[If this was a normal shootout at the O.K. Corral, Mr. Blonde would have been positive he won right here and now. But it wasn't, and Blonde was spending their second staring at the lack of a gunshot wound on Orange. He was confused as hell and it showed on his face. There should have been a hole in him. It didn't have to bleed ten gallons yet but there was supposed to be hole.

It wasn't every day your bullets are magical, so Blonde wouldn't have blamed himself much for leaving himself open to the shot. He jerks in anticipation of the bullet, but that's about as much movement as he makes when he notices he doesn't get him either. He looks down.

Then up at Orange.

Then back down at himself.

Then back at Orange.

There's a moment's pause of sheer what-the-fuckery. Blonde holds his gun up again at Orange's chest and pulls the trigger. There's a gunshot. There's smoke. But there's no massive goddamn hole in Freddy's chest.

Blonde lowers his gun.]

What the fuck.

[Hey, those ARE his pancakes on the floor.]

. . . . .

[That makes two of them staring and staring. Without anymore rounds this revolver is useless but he's still got it in his hand in case he needs to pistol-whip somebody with it. If only he could stop staring at Blonde, and White, to get some wits back--HEY!!!]

Holy shit!! Larry.

[Do something!! Freddy balks when that gun points at him. Even though he's just survived the previous shots it doesn't put the brakes on his instinct to shield himself. Aw man look at that. He just stepped on the poor discarded pancake.]

[Okay. Bullets are a no go, nevermind why. They're just not. Fine then. Larry holsters his gun at his waistband. The nearest thing he's got is a chair. Last time he knew, those could do something. Since all eyes are on the pancake...hopefully... The old man grips the molded back and takes a swing.

Don't think he's doing it for you, Orange. He's doing it so that he's got a chance to have a piece of you for the second time. No amount of that is gonna bring Joe and Eddie back and restore a friendship of decades.

It can't all be adrenaline that makes it easy. Still sweating bullets and huffing like an angry wolf. Except if bullets didn't work, there's no way a few deep breaths are gonna blow this down.]

[... Most people would look dumbfounded and maybe a little freaked out. The expression across Vic's face was just vaguely confused, but moreso than normal. This was way too fucking weird.

But he'd have more time to be confused later. Okay. Bullets aren't working for some magic reason. When it doubt, pistol-whip. Blonde takes the butt of his gun and whacks! it against Orange's skull.

... And .5 seconds later gets rewarded with White getting him in the back with the chair. OW WHAT THE FUCK.

Wordlessly (this is the guy who didn't even gasp when he was killed) he goes down on his knees, and would have fallen on his face if he hadn't caught the backing of one of the booths. Fuck. That was gonna bruise. It doesn't matter who you are, getting hit with a chair that hard still HURT. But next to where what was left of his breakfast was (rip pancakes..............), he saw his fork. He grabbed it. Then he twisted his body around toward White and jabbed the fork into White's hand.

Hard.]

[HIS HERO. Oh wait no maybe not---

FUCK. So they don't feel bullets but he can feel brute force?! Fuck that shit this definitely can't be limbo it has to be some crazy fucked up nightmare. Speaking of sleep that blow to the skull should have knocked him out cold, instead he just feels the flash of pain followed by a hard up headache coming on. Freddy's dazed though, too dazed to warn Larry about the oncoming utensil. That doesn't mean he can't make a sudden rush at Blonde to tackle the guy right after the stabbing.

Yeah. Orange is trying to tackle Blonde. Yeah. He's totally abandoned his own gun. It's a knock down knuckle dragging diner fight now.]

Fuck!

[That's what you call deep. It's sticking right on into skin, bone, tendons...whatever else makes up the top of an older, rough hand. Larry doesn't even wanna look at it. It makes him feel fucking ill. In panic and with little else to do he raises his unpunctured fist to take a crack at Blonde.

Woah. Wait. The shorter, less hefty cavalry is here and this is gonna get far worse and ridiculous. Knock down and drag out, except what good is it all? The minute Larry can, he's gonna pull that fork on out.]

[Blonde grins at what he just did, and started to pull himself up to lay a new beating into White. Maybe he could find something and stab more than just the old man's hand. But then he catches Orange out of the corner of it eye. His notice didn't stop himself from getting tackled, but he could at least keep himself on his knees. It wasn't exactly like Nice Guy Eddie was tackling him. Freddy wasn't even close to Eddie's size, much less going to be heaving Vic over his shoulder like Eddie did either.

With Orange on him, though, maybe Blonde could. Under his breath he gave a husky curse and grabbed Orange's arms. He jerked his weight to one side hard to see if he could get Orange off

Then his eye caught his plate again.

GUESS WHO'S GRABBING IT AND SMASHING IT IN YOUR FACE somehow ASSHOLE.]

[He may not be Eddie's size but he sure is persistent. That swinging and grabbing isn't going to pull Orange off. A plate to the face on the other hand...!]

Fuhh--!!!

[Well he obviously wasn't going to be articulating clearly upon getting smashed by some ceramic ass shit. God. It gets him off Blonde though and Freddy staggers to one side to put distance between them. Again. Jesus is that syrup he's tasting on his face?? Huff puff. Oh crap he's finally getting winded. Hey is that the point of all this, fucking wild about until they're too tired to kill each other? God's done stranger things.]

[Seriously, Orange. Of all the fucking stupid, useless shit you could pull. That would have been another opportunity to run. Except he didn't. Of all the dumb shit to be done in this situation, he does the noble thing.

Larry is too pissed off and in shock from being treated like a pancake slice to fully get annoyed at what Orange is trying to do. All those shards of plate are around now.]

Lay off, you idiot.

[That one is for you kid. His hand smarts but not in the way that it should. Is he in that much shock or is that another lucky break like the magic bullets. Seems like at any moment Jesus Christ himself will sweep on into the diner and give everybody endless wine and bread at the unexplained miracles flying around.

Big rough hands grip on the largest shard he can find. Maybe that could stab Blonde good.]

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i'm sorry about this tag

its okay he didnt sign up for marriage counseling 8(

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