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- >Running towards the addict greedily perusing the contents of Celestia's handbag, you feel anger bubbling inside you
- >This motherfucker better know where she is
- >Behind you, the slamming of car doors indicates that Ty and Santiago have jumped out too
- ''Hey! You!''
- >The addict's head snaps around, giving him an eyeful of angry Anon
- >Eyes looking like headlights, he bolts off into the darkened alley, dodging dumpsters and empty boxes, handbag still clenched in his grasp
- >You take off after him and pull your gun out
- ''Stop, motherfucker! I'll shoot!''
- >The only effect your yelling has on him is bringing forth a small yelp
- >Behind you, Santiago is yelling something to Ty
- >Running down the filth-encrusted alley, the addict takes a sharp turn to the right
- >Following closely in his footsteps, you bolt to the right as well, an almost identical alley opening before your eyes
- >The running addict is silhouetted against the snow-white road outside the alley entrance
- >You know that the only thing slowing him down here are the piles of trash and overflowing dumpsters
- >If he gets out of the alley you'll pretty much have to wing him to catch up
- >The last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself, and a gunshot is a guaranteed way of attracting it
- >Suddenly, the addict stops mere feet from you, and with panicked strength, flings one of the dumpsters so that it's blocking your way
- >In the next moment, a lot of things happen
- >The addict takes off like a blue hedgehog, and your attempted jump over the dumpster ends with one of your feet catching on the edge
- >Time seems to slow to a crawl as you desperately grasp for a handhold in the air, but to no avail
- >You feel yourself flying in something akin to a botched front flip, and the ground is coming closer a bit too fast
- ''Oh fuc-''
- >Your cursing is cut short by painfully landing on your back, and you feel the wind get knocked out of your lungs
- >With tiny, flashing dots flying across the edges of your vision, you see the runner briefly looking back
- >Smirking at your condition, he stops and does an impromptu victory dance, his gangly form a striking contrast to the snow in the backdrop
- >''Yeah, motherfucker!''
- >Fuck it
- >There's no way to catch up to him now
- >Your right hand fumbles for your gun as you shakily rise to your feet, your chest burning from exertion and pain
- >As the addict spots the glint of chrome in your hand, he takes off without even looking back again
- >Steadying your breath and taking aim, you try to stop your hand from shaking
- >Fucking cocaine comedown
- >Despite your shaking, the addict is now squarely in your sights, the .45 aimed at his center of mass
- >Cursing under your breath, you let the gun drift lower, aiming at his right thigh
- >This is it
- >Mentally steeling yourself for the recoil and noise, you take a deep breath and steady your hands best you can, your forefinger slowly squeezing the trigger
- >Suddenly, the addict is joined by another silhouette, the newcomer grabbing the junkie by the collar
- >A split-second later, the druggie is forcefully flung agains the wall with a loud thunk, his forehead striking the concrete
- >You let the trigger go, the gun slumping to your side
- >Taking a deep breath, you jog off in the direction of the two struggling shapes
- >Judging from the wet cracking sound and muffled scream coming from the floored addict, you assume the mysterious stranger has cracked the junkie's nose bone
- >Drawing closer, you notice the newcomer currently holding the runner in a headlock looks awfully familiar
- >''What's up, mate?''
- >The newcomer cracks a grin, sparse light glinting off his teeth
- ''Teapot?''
- >''One and only, mate. Now-''
- >The addict's struggles are cut short by the tightening headlock
- >''Stay still, fucker. Now, what's this guy do to ya?''
- >Now close enough to make out his face, you answer his grin with an uncertain smile
- ''I just wanted to ask him some questions, that's all.''
- >''Questions, huh? What kind?''
- >You point at the handbag now lying in the filth of the alley, it's contents splayed out on the ground
- ''Well, where he got that, for starters.''
- >Teapot clicks his tongue, grin still present on his face
- >Turning to the addict, he chuckles and takes a scolding tone
- >''Now, what was that all about, Ronnie? Been robbing pretty girls again, have we?''
- >With Teapot relaxing his grip on the addict's throat after some insistent squirming and grunting, the addict's raspy voice fills the alley
- >''I swear man, I didn't do nothing, man! I swear!''
- ''How'd you get that then, huh?''
- >You lean in and press the cold steel of the barrel against the junkie's cheek
- >Fear and discomfort evident in his voice, the junkie coughs shakily
- >''I found it, I swear, man!''
- >Leaning in even closer, your voice adopts a low, dangerous purr as you forcefully press the gun to his head
- >The addict grimaces and closes his eyes in fear, his yellowed teeth looking like they might fall out any second
- ''You better tell me how you found it, and do it now. Or else-''
- >You pull back the hammer with an audible click, sending the junkie into a fit of hyperventilation
- >Truth be told, if you weren't so angry you'd probably be hyperventilating too
- >The burning knot of panic in your stomach is nothing new, and you hope to God you won't have to pull the trigger
- >''A-alright, man, I'll tell you, o-okay? J-just please, stow the p-piece, man, okay?''
- >Sighing deeply, you flick the safety back on and uncock the hammer, stowing the piece back into the front of your pants
- >The addict opens his eyes slowly, with a mixed look of surprise and relief in his eyes
- ''Now, talk.''
- >''Th-thanks, man. Thank you.''
- >Teapot shakes the shaken addict with a playfully disapproving look on his face
- >''Any fucking day now, sweetheart.''
- >''Oh, yeah, yeah. I-I'll tell. Just, can you p-please let my neck go, man?''
- >Teapot turns his eyes to you with a questioning look, and you answer him with a nod
- >As he relinquishes his grip, he stands up
- >The addict follows suit, casting nervous glances at you and the Cockney skinhead blocking the alley exit
- >''No funny business, mate.''
- ''Yeah. Don't try any shit.''
- >The addict hunches down, looking like a scared rabbit cornered by two foxes
- >''A-alright, man, alright. I promise, okay?''
- >You impatiently motion for him to continue, the crackhead getting on your nerves more and more
- ''The bag. How the fuck did you get it?''
- >''Alright, man, alright. So, I was just sitting here, alright? Then, this pretty lady comes through, all posh and shit, alright?''
- ''Get on with it.''
- >''Yeah, so I asks her if she could lend me a buck or two, alright? So the bitch just walks by, and-''
- >You draw closer and grab him by his collar, anger bubbling up once again
- ''She's not a 'bitch', alright? She's a fine lady, alright?''
- >''Hey, hey man, I'm sorry, alright? S-so this lady just walks on by and shit, so I follow her a bit, and-''
- ''Wait. You followed her? Why?''
- >You tighten your grip on his collar, the addict looking even more scared
- >''It-it's not like that, man, I swear! She jus' didn't look like she was from here, s-so I followed her to keep th' lady safe, yeah?''
- >He erupts into a nervous grin and you let go of his collar, leaving him visibly relieved
- ''Likely as fuck.''
- >Brushing aside your jab, he dusts his collar with an air of indignation
- >''Anyway, I was just walking toward her when this big ol' fat guy comes up behind her, alright? They start talking', and then, outta th' blue, boom!''
- >He slaps his fist into his palm, as if to illustrate the events
- >''Guy knocks her on her pretty head and the bit- lady falls down like a sack o' bricks, alright? So, he picks her up and takes her to this big-ass van outside th' alley and dumps her in.''
- >You feel the knot in your stomach rapidly tightening, and a cold wave of fear washes over you
- >So, Celestia is kidnapped, very possibly hurt, and maybe even dead
- >The chill of fear quickly mixes with a blaze of anger
- >Whoever did this to her deserved to pay
- >Whoever that motherfucker was, you'd get him
- >But then what?
- >You don't know
- >And as you remember why she even walked down the alley alone in the first place, you feel a wave of guilt and shame mixed with nausea washing over you
- >If only you hadn't yelled at her
- >If only she hadn't found the baggie
- >You know very well that it's your fault
- >You may not be the one who knocked her out, but you were the one that caused her to leave
- >For the first time in what seems like an eternity, you find yourself wondering what life would be like with a normal job
- >Celestia would still be with you if you just worked nine to five
- >Hell, you would've already left Slateside behind you if you worked normally
- >Maybe you and Celestia would even-
- >The sound of footsteps echoing down the alley breaks your thoughts
- >The steps are soon followed by shouting
- >''Anon, bro! What the fuck man, we been looking around the block for your ass!''
- >''Ese, don't go off like that, man!''
- >You clearly see Teapot's eyes narrow as the footsteps draw closer, his body language clearly showing that he is ready to start throwing punches at any second
- >Oh shit
- >You turn around just in time to see Ty, closely followed by Santiago, running up to you, Ty grabbing you in a bear hug
- >''Man, next time at least tell us what you plan to do, aight?''
- ''Y-yeah, sure.''
- >Ty lets you down and gives you a grin, before turning his eyes to Teapot
- >''So, who this guy?''
- >Santiago takes his place beside you and squeezes your shoulder, eyes narrowing at Teapot
- >Or, looking at it through his eyes, the tattooed skinhead wearing a flight jacket and a 'White Pride Worldwide' t-shirt
- >You give Ty and Santiago your best attempt at a disarming smile
- ''Oh, this? That's, uh, Teapot. Yeah.''
- >You turn to Teapot, the skinhead clearly tense over the situation
- ''Teapot, these two are Ty and Santiago. Very good friends of mine.''
- >The crack addict, with an extremely confused look on his face, takes the ensuing standoff-esque silence as his cue to speak
- >''Hey, man, did you say your name was Anon?''
- ''Yeah, how so?''
- >The crack addict cracks a relieved grin, yellowed, rotting teeth showing
- >''Man, don't you remember me? I'm-''
- >Teapot interrupts the addict with a slap to the back of the head
- >''Shut the fuck up, Ronnie.''
- >Santiago breaks the tense silence with a suspicious look on his face
- >''Ey, ese, where did you even find this guy?''
- ''It's Teapot. Him and his crew saved me when I got stomped.''
- >Relieved that the tension is somewhat broken, you babble on
- >Ty steps forward with an uncertain smile on his face, holding his hand out in a greeting
- >Stopping just in front of Teapot, he gives his best attempt at a friendly grin
- >''So, you saved Anon, eh? That's damn good of you, brother.''
- >Instead of returning the handshake, Teapot just stares at Ty with a disbelieving look on his face
- >Slowly but surely, a mocking grin creeps onto his face
- >''Ty, huh? What's that short for, mate? Tyrone? Tyreese?''
- >Ty's grin quickly turns into a glare, and you find yourself holding Santiago by the shoulder
- >You don't want any violence to occur
- >''It's Tyler.''
- >''Tyler, huh? Well, mate, that's not the first name I'd picked for you.''
- >''Well, I wouldn't name my own kid Teapot either, so I guess we in the same boat.''
- >Santiago erupts into laughter as Teapot steps closer to Ty with a livid look on his face
- >''You fucking what?''
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