Realistic or Modern LL: The Samaritans

[Namazu]

SCENE 2 - HOME SWEET HOME

DENISE

Denise’s arms had been full with a large bundle of firewood when she heard Mark’s voice first. The wind carried the young man’s voice just enough to make it audible from this distance, and though she couldn’t quite make out his words, he definitely sounded distressed. Concern lining her face, she picked up her pace on her way back. Certainly whatever was happening was something Santiago or the others could handle, but she ought to be available in case it was something serious. A disagreement broke out, perhaps? Times were tough, she couldn’t blame anyone for getting snappy. She just had to make sure nothing got out of hand.

Dumping the firewood alongside the barn, the scene came into full view just in time to see Santiago leading Brielle away - hand rubbing against his head in that tell-tale way that made it obvious a strong migraine was going to take him out of commission for the rest of the day. Maybe longer, if it was a real bad one. What was more concerning was the way Mark had his gun out - not pointed any anyone, and it looked like perhaps Anthony was trying to calm him down, but still it was concerning. People didn’t just draw their weapons for nothing.

Spotting Dutchess standing by her lonesome watching the scene, Denise decided that was her best opening to find out what was going on without making the situation worse. Axe hanging from her belt yet, Denise approached the other woman from behind and joined her at her side.

“Hey. What’s going on - is everything alright?” She slid her dusty work gloves off, holding them out and to the side to clap them together and shake some dirt off. “Is the new girl causing trouble?”

Denise looked back up in time to see Santiago close the screen door to the main house behind himself - and it was then she caught a glimpse of him leaving a walkie-talkie on a small table just inside, next to the doorway. She stiffened, casting a glance at Dutchess with her eyebrow raised. Surely the other woman was thinking the same thing she was.

She had not even provided the other woman much of an opportunity to respond before she jogged up to the house. She had little interest in dealing with the people-problems of the ranch - she wasn’t anyone’s babysitter, mother, or teacher and definitely was not interested in playing cop like Santiago did - but she did have a vested interest in staying safe. A ‘foreign’ means of communication being introduced to the ranch secretly was one very large red flag. Tugging open the screen door, she yanked the walkie-talkie off the side table. Santiago had already disappeared inside the house somewhere.

“This walkie - it's not one of ours…” She turned the device over in her hands; it was in good condition, so clearly someone cared enough about it to not let it tumble into the dirt and mud or get broken. She didn’t dare push any buttons on it, but she also didn’t dare leave it sitting around unattended.

Turning to Mark, Denise motioned back to the door with her thumb. “Did the new girl bring this in with her? Fuck. I told Santiago we need to start searching people when they come. This isn’t a damn hotel.” Her New Yorker accent got stronger the more she got irritated, already jumping to some conclusions.

NanLia
Crono
Straw-Berry Milk
The Cat Man​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

​

The grass blades angrily whispered against the growing draft that filtered through North's and Mark's clothing. The dying light brought a special kind of ambiance. The wind howling through the prairie sounded like hungry wendigo. Waking up for the hunt.

There were no signs of a living human in their vicinity but as they strode the outer perimeter of their little community, away from the heart of the Ranch, they could see figures swaying in the gloom of the treeline. There was something particular about the way they moved, something by now very…familiar.

___​

The Ranchers didn't hide how disturbed they were by the unexpected situation. Some of them shared Denise's concerns about the lightheartedness with which Santiago was accepting new people in. Others were just as open and hospitable as the leader, who now took one of the locals and headed out.

But not Franky. He didn't share the sentiment. Frank Lam was a lanky man. Tall and lean. Hiding muscle and not an ounce of fat under a flannel shirt and worn jeans. With a trademark tear on the knee and a red bandana sticking out from the back pocket. Usually a man of a few words, preferring to chew on a toothpick or tobacco instead of running his mouth. But when he did open it, it was for a good reason.

"The girl is lying." He stood near Denise and Duchess with his arms crossed and his gaze trained on the forest surrounding the Ranch from the hillside. "She been lying to us since she arrived with that dingbat and the fancy lady." He spat aside before grumbling. "But Sheriff is too busy saving lost souls to notice." For him, Santiago was always too soft. Even back in the day when locking Franky up for the night after he was caught drunk-pissing behind the bar. The Red Jackal and the finest cheap whiskey in their whole forsaken town. Damn, he missed that place. He missed getting canned up with his brother. Or maybe he just missed him.

The static of the walkie talkie was cut clean by another silent call. At first it was quiet, not a breath. Until Duchess could recognize the familiar voice. Yet the words clearly not directed at her. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Franky's arms dropped loose as he looked at the device with a hint of discomfort. He looked around quick like he expected to find prying eyes leering at them. But there was nothing. Yet.

NanLia The Cat Man Straw-Berry Milk Crono Namazu
@Noivian​

 

[Safton]

Wesley Emmett

Scene Three
"The Rat Problem"​

Wesley nodded to the Second-in-Command in acknowledgement as the man stated that he would be joining him in paying a visit to Ackerman. He didn't fool himself into thinking that the man was doing it out of the goodness of his heart or out of some misguided sense of loyalty and camaraderie. Weston was on thin ice, plain and simple -- it was in his best interest to make sure things went smoothly.

"Don't mention it," Wes remarked impassively at the man's thanks, drawing his sidearm from where it rested in the holster on his thigh, drawing the slide back just far enough to confirm the glint of brass within the chamber. As he did this, Weston spoke up again, requesting that if the worst came to pass he only seek to wound Brad rather than kill him. Emmett paused, lips pursed, before letting the slide return and securing the pistol back into its home. "I'll do my best. Hopefully it won't come to that." He left the addendum unspoken, And if it does, that's on him. Wesley was more aware than most how difficult it could be to detain someone who was willing and able to resist with violence. When that someone was armed? The whole dynamic shifted and it became more about putting the threat down above all else.

He took a deep breath, letting it out to center himself. "Shall we?" With that, he set off down the corridor, his boots pounding against the tiled floor towards the armory.

Namazu
Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[Namazu]

Scene 2 - Home Sweet Home

Denise

Denise was deeply thankful that Franky agreed with her. He was one of the few people at the ranch that actually seemed to have his head screwed on straight. Santiago was too damn soft to newcomers; too busy playing saint and savior to the lost to keep the safety of himself and the others already living here at the forefront of his mind. Even when he tried to be tough, tried to be the sheriff that kept this place running, it somehow wasn’t enough. It often meant Denise had to be the one to clean up - which also meant that Denise had to play the bad guy. It didn’t make her popular, but hopefully it made her respected.

She nodded in agreement at Franky’s assessment. Of course the new girl was lying. Talk was cheap, it was actions that mattered, and the girl’s actions did not look above-board right now. Denise opened her mouth to respond to his assessment, but stopped the second a strange voice came through the walkie-talkie in her hand.

‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’

“What the fuck?” She muttered to herself, thumb not on the switch so the voice on the other end didn’t hear. She, too, scanned the horizon as if expecting to find a pair of eyes watching them from a distance. Unfortunately, nothing looked out of place. She glanced to Franky and Dutchess just long enough to read their reactions, then brought the walkie-talkie back up to her lips. It didn’t exactly matter what the others thought, because she had already made up her mind. She was going to communicate with whoever was on the other end of this thing, and figure out what was going on.

“Who the fuck are you?” Denise’s New York accent sounded harsh as she held the button and offered her clipped response. Her husband used to call her sweetheart, before he got bored and started calling other women by that nickname. She used to like it, but now it just makes her skin crawl.

She let go of the button, but then immediately held it back down and continued.

“If you were hoping for some long-distance flirting with that girl, I’m sorry to say you’re going to just have to come here and do it face to face instead. Maybe tell us who you are, who she is to you, and how many people you have while you’re here.”

Denise let go of the button again, scanning the horizon once more - though still seeing no movement. Still holding the walkie talkie, she crossed her arms and looked at Dutchess and Franky.

“I don’t know what this is yet, but we’re going to have to be on guard. There could be people watching us right this moment. Franky, can you get up someplace high and see if you can see anything?” Right now, Denise really wished they had something tall to climb up on - a water tower, anything. Even a well-placed deer stand would be better than sitting ducks on the ground.

“Dutchess, do you feel safe taking Anthony with you to do a quick sweep of the area around the ranch? Don’t go too far - I don’t need people getting kidnapped or shot. But just take a look around, see if you can see anything out of the ordinary.” She needed more eyes out there, and Dutchess was a smart woman with her head always on swivel. Anthony was some added muscle in case the woman got into a situation - and in turn, she could keep him from running off and doing something stupid if they did find something. Or someone.

It seemed like a decent plan. She just needed everyone to do their parts.

Bullyboy Squad
NanLia
The Cat Man
Straw-Berry Milk​

 

[NanLia]

Dutchess​

Chapter One - Scene Two
Home Sweet Home​

Dutchess watched the conflict in Denise's face from a short distance; she could tell the second in command here wasn’t thrilled with Santiago’s choice of coddling Bree and believing she and her friends were innocent. It was this sort of thing Dutches had relied on, should she and North ever get caught in their lie before the Samaritans arrived; Santi was a kind and trusting man and even in the world before, that shit got you killed.

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

She had to inhale deeply and center for focus to avoid bursting out into awkward laughter. She couldn’t begin to start to understand what Cabrera was about with this - if he thought it was creeping out the residents of the Ranch or if he was simply fucking with her but both options were immensely hilarious to her. “This sick fuck things he’s a Michael Myers or some shit.” Dutchess echoed Denise’s dislike for the voice of the radio.

She waited while Denise finished off giving Cabrera shit over the radio before addressing her. She nodded curtly. “Tony and I have plenty of experience with … roughens, we can handle a quick tour of the perimeter to make sure we’re good and this guy is just passing through looking to get off to a pretty voice.”

Dutchess took a quick glance around looking for Anthony, when she spotted him, not far off, she waved him over to join them. “Hey,” She said as he arrived. “You good to do a quick walk around with me?” She knew immediately his answer would be yes and it would give the pair of them some time to laugh about Cabrera’s choice of words. Really now, did this man think Dutches was not going to call him Daddy forever more?

Interactions: Namazu The Cat Man
Mentions: Bullyboy Squad Straw-Berry Milk

code by ditto ​

 

[The Cat Man]

Anthony North

CH.1 - SCENE #2
"Home Sweet Home"

FINE | CONFIDENT

'Ms. Duke' ( NanLia )
Denise ( Namazu ) | 'Nervous son' ( Crono ) | 'Daddy' ( Bullyboy Squad ) | 'Wrong tree' ( Straw-Berry Milk )
​

And so, they were seemingly off to the fields after the showcase of leadership from Denise, whose diplomacy was, frankly, much more efficient and safer, even if stricter, in comparison to Santiago's, at the very least the both of the 'siblings' probably wouldn't get the chance to have such leisure over at that rooftop if they were under her eyes... So, they should probably be thankful they got that shaggy dog of a leader instead of her, it certainly would get a hell of a lot harder to get their trust. It's going to be pretty funny to see their faces once they see the Devil's grin, but hey, they'll get some actual fucking entertainment over with the Samaritans instead of talking about how the nice the weather is in the middle of the apocalypse!

...Oh, he BETTER get to see some of those beatable faces on the ring, that or an actual spar, Anthony didn't spend these last days watching the clouds move for nothing, there better be a complementary treat or some shit. He's just complaining from a place of annoyance, North does know that there could be a good raise on his rep on the line, even if he feels like he's good enough, and despite everything, spending time with Ms. Duke over there was a pretty good deal.

Speaking of her, seems like he's getting called over... Shame that his little pet peeve's getting sidetracked for now, but there's always later.
Not like there's anyway to escape from it, 'Daddy's' coming, right? Heh, gotta give the guy props, he's good at being cocky.
"Wass'up?" Tony nodded at her with his arrival, briefly looking back at the nervous son and at the second in command here as he walked shortly, smirking carelessly. "...Man, you really spooked, huh?" Sighing as he placed his hands on his hips with a defeated expression, he pretended not to be convinced with 'sis', everyone plays hard, would be more suspicious if he didn't. "Cool cool, I'll tag... Anything more than two dudes and I'm throwing you under the bus though." Tony joked, grinning as his head held high. He's clearly feeling a little relaxed, seeing everything going on, these ranchers clearly don't have their shit together as seen with them barking up the wrong tree, why be threatened of dumbasses who got nothing on you?
They got this in the bag, all that's left is...
"So! Let's do it."

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

Samaritans spilled from the treeline, stealthily spreading along the side of the ranch. Cabrera focused locals' attention on the radio instead, and when Denise was finally done speaking his low hum drifted from the speaker, melting with the breeze. "Mhmmm… She's cute." Something dubious ringing in his voice. "They're fun when so innocent. But I like me some real woman." His tone an octave darker, directed straight at the lady he was observing from a quarter mile out. Watching through the stained windows of a tractor.

Franky chewed on his lip, listening to the stranger with swelling unease. He gave a curt nod to the request-disguised instruction. "Ye got it." And he jogged away towards the barn, hearing Duchess calling for Anthony he just passed the guy. There was something about that kid that made Franky think twice, which he didn't do often. Like underneath the laid-back jokester there was something else, something seedy. The man didn't dwell though. He planned to get to the roof through the catwalk. That would give him a chance to watch all sides from an elevated position.

By that time the two scouts strode away from Denise, leaving her alone in the backyard. Most ranchers went inside, just in case there was danger lurking in the growing shadows. Except those few like Mark, who left to scout as well. But the lady wasn't alone for long, hearing the dog growl. The bitch stopped beside Denise, lowering her head, fur spiking up on the back of her neck, baring teeth at the oncoming stranger.

Cabrera strutted straight at them. Walkie-talkie in hand, rifle slung to his front. Bumping against the armour protecting his center mass. The elbow and knee pads confirming his readiness for the life of more than just another survivor. Baseball cap turned brim back added to the somewhat bad boy look, complemented by a little swagger in the otherwise timed, trained steps. The worn cast on his left forearm the only thing unmatching the badass aura.

Still far enough he pulled the device to his lips, military shades-covered gaze locking on Denise face. "I think I found one."

___​

Duchess and North got in between the garages as they heard late bird chirping, misplaced at that time and hour. Both could easily recognize Samaritan signal and as soon as they got behind the garage they saw three roughly familiar brutes. At least Duchess would recognize one of her fellow Scavs there, two other were enforcers. One got his ass kicked in the cage by Anthony in the past, so now he eyed the guy with a toothy grin. "Ready to play the loser, champ?"

Another enforcer, higher ranked, walked over to Duchess and visibly swiped the gun safety on before aiming the pistol at her head. "Shall we?" Both Duchess and North were going to pretend to be captives. Only to strike whenever Cabrera gave the sign, or… if shit went South.

NanLia The Cat Man Straw-Berry Milk Crono Namazu
​

 

[Namazu]

Scene 2 - Home Sweet Home

Denise​

Denise had her attention fixed on the opposite direction, watching for movement, when the dog growled. She spun around, hand instinctively going for the handgun in its holster at her side. She had it drawn and pointed at the figure moving closer to her before it even registered in her mind what, or who, she was looking at.

Keeping the handgun aimed at the man, she gave him a quick look-over. He was clearly armored, and she was clearly outgunned. There was no guarantee she’d make a shot that would do any solid harm to him, and judging by the way he held himself, it was a strong guarantee he knew how to use that rifle.

“Looks like you’re the secret admirer.” Watching him lift that walkie-talkie to his lips, it was pretty easy to put two and two together.

“Whatever you want, we probably don’t have it. So why don’t you just turn around and head back home, yeah? Nobody gets hurt, nobody wastes any ammo, and everyone sleeps in their own bed tonight. Sound like a deal?”

Denise kept her voice as steady and commanding as possible, and kept her eyes on the man - though she did dart a glance this way and that to see if anyone else on the ranch was going to come back her up. With her luck, everyone else would be busy cowering in a dark corner, and would leave her out to dry, alone. In this tense moment, she realized she wouldn’t put such cowardice past any of them. Even the sheriff.

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

The heavy door to the armory groaned, revealing the dimmed space reverberating with country music. The cavernous room was filled with weaponry and gear, all tucked into their respective racks, chests, and shelves.

It's funny how it's the little things in life
That mean the most
Not where you live, what you drive
Or the price tag on your clothes

There's no dollar sign
On a peace of mind
This I've come to know

The usual clicks, thumps, and chatter that would come from the inside ceased. No soul wandering along the aisles, no one standing behind the counter or in front of it waiting for their designated gun and ammo. It wasn't unusual that there were lulls in activity while patrolmen and scavengers were out in the field doing their jobs. But what would feel off was the lack of guards and armores inside. Except… There was something. A plate with scrambled eggs behind the counter. It sat next to the bullets scattered all around.

So if you agree
Have a drink with me
Raise your glasses for a toast

And a little bit of chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up

Few rounds on the ground, glinted in the light coming from the knocked down lamp. Abandoned on the way to one of the aisles. Few steps in and there it was. Boots, legs, body sprawled on the floor. Back half propped to the wall, shoulders keeled over towards the fallen hand uncurled around the pistol grip. Red splash decorated plaster behind Brad. His face twisted in a comical grimace, unseeing gaze fixed on the space before him. Just the blood idly dripped from his parted lips and the hole in his temple.

I love to see the sun rise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

NanLia Safton Namazu Togy BeyondDandy The Cat Man Straw-Berry Milk ​

 

[Namazu]

Scene 3 - The Rat Problem
Weston

​

Weston expected to see Brad at the front counter, or just beyond it taking inventory, or at least… doing whatever it is Brad did in all his spare time, between running the armory and making his life difficult. He already had what he was doing to say in mind, and he was fully ready to give this man a thorough dressing-down and beating.

The unoccupied counter and aisles was uncomfortably unexpected. Weston glanced over his shoulder at Wes, eyebrow raised with questions, half-expecting at that point for Brad to jump them from behind. That didn’t happen either. It was an uneasy feeling - not just the emptiness of the place, but the fact such an important area was entirely unguarded.

It wasn’t until Weston approached closer, stretching his arms out and resting his hands against the far edges of the counter, did he notice all the scattered bullets. Unspent bullets, too - not casings. Somebody was either in a scramble or clumsy. The upbeat jingle of the country song grated on his nerves. He never really was a fan of country, but he’d grown to tolerate it back before shit hit the fan. Not so much anymore.

Spotting the plate of scrambled eggs on the lower ledge on the other side of the shelf, Weston reached down and held his hand close to the food. Cold. Who knows how long it’d been sitting there. Not only was it a waste, it was concerning.

Glancing back to Wes and motioning for the other man to be silent and to follow him, Weston unholstered his pistol, took off the safety, and held it in both hands before himself as he carefully advanced around the counter and down a side aisle. He kept his eyes up, but spotted more rounds on the ground and a knocked-over lamp. The lamp cast an almost eerie angle of light into the dim aisle, putting part of the aisle in stark lighting and the rest in partial shadow.

There was a familiar, human-shaped form within that shadow. Just enough to make Weston’s heart race.

Slowly, carefully, trying not to alert whatever might be slumped there - living or dead - Weston crouched down to pick up the lamp and adjust it’s light towards the person. Boots and outstretched legs were illuminated first. Then, a hand, and a pistol. Weston kept his own pointed at the form even as the lamp revealed a face, blood, and hole in the man’s temple.

Weston immediately stood, leaving the lamp upright next to Brad, and quietly called back to Wes.

“Dead. Fan out, not sure if he did this to himself or not.” Mentally, he both cursed and was relieved - relieved that the bastard was dead, but angry he’d never get answers… and fully aware there was a chance this would somehow be pinned on him. Or, worse, this was a sign of something bigger and more serious.

At least whoever took out Brad did it with a shot to the head - even if it was Brad himself.

Safton​

 

[Safton]

Wesley Emmett

Scene Three
"The Rat Problem"
​

Wesley followed his companion of the moment to the armory, his mind abuzz with potential scenarios about how this encounter was going to play out. His attention was stolen by -- of all things -- the sound of music as they drew steadily closer. Some annoying little country number that he had once known the name of and had perhaps even been guilty of mindlessly drumming his fingers along the steering wheel of his truck to the beat of once upon a time. Once the space came into view, Wes's hairs immediately stood on end. Brad wasn't visible, but neither was anyone else.

The place was a mess. Emmett didn't have a high opinion of the man, but to Brad's credit he did run a fairly tight ship that he never would have kept the armory in this sorry of a state (not that King or any of the others would allow it). Out of the corner of his eye he spied the plate of food, but strangely he couldn't smell it in the sterile space. Normally he'd chalk that up to the faint scent of gun oil and lubricant, but he found out why based solely on Weston's reaction as the man hovered his hand over the breakfast.

A pit formed in the CO's gut and he realized he had been instinctively clutching the sidearm holstered at his waist the entire time, his grip like a vice. Now, slowly, he withdrew it in a well-practiced motion. He gave the Second a stiff nod, following him further into the armory -- weapon raised to chest height but out of his eyeline in a "low-ready" position -- as he scanned for threats, doing his best to cover Weston's back. Brad was still unaccounted for and they had no idea how he would receive them.

The two of them didn't have to search for long.

Wesley watched as the Second approached the limp form, but resisted the urge to watch, instead turning to glance out at the rest of the armory until he finished his assessment. “Dead. Fan out, not sure if he did this to himself or not.” Even from here, Wes could tell that the corpse belonged to Brad. He nodded again, keeping his companion in the corner of his eye for the briefest of moments before resuming his search. There was a voice in the back of his mind -- a pragmatic one that had kept him alive thus far -- telling him that under the right circumstances finding their only lead like this could be very convenient for Weston. He pushed the thought away. That didn't make any sense; if the man was pulling strings he wouldn't have let himself get in this deep in the first place with being incriminated.

...But it didn't hurt to keep an eye out all the same.

His head throbbing, he turned with annoyance to shut the nearby radio off before resuming his search of the armory. Hearing Weston on the other side of a nearby shelf, he called out, "This wasn't a robbery or some argument gone bad. Either he did it himself or he was targeted," he remarked, being careful to keep his voice steady as he spoke lest he put the man further on edge. "And I know how to rule one of those out."

Namazu
Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[Togy]

Scene Three
The Rat Problem​

The dying light filtered through the soiled glass of the tiny window by the ceiling. Too high to reach it for the short guy. But AJ didn't even try to escape. Beat up and locked like an animal in four concrete walls, he waited.

Head lolled back against the chair, Aj stared idly at the ceiling, youthful stupidity and anxiety replaced by a bored, almost frustrated expression. He looked calmer than he'd shown the entire day, gently cradling his bruised stomach and breathing slowly through his mouth to ease his swollen jaw.

The last guard had left minutes ago, and another likely wouldn't be back in ten, maybe fifteen minutes. By his guess, this was the only opening for the transfer they'd get. Grunting, he slowly leaned his head over the chair to avoid irritating his wounds and put his fingers to his lips. A huff of annoyance was his only sign of hesitation before plunging two fingers as far as he could down his throat. His gag reflex kicked in automatically, barely pulling his fingers out of his mouth before he was retching on the floor. Bile poured out-no food chunks, he hadn't seen any point in eating today if it was just coming back up-and soon a small piece of iron joined the stream, glinting in the half-light of the room.

Dry heaving once he'd expelled the contents of his stomach, the young man laboriously wiped the phlegm off his lips and reached down into the mess he'd expelled onto the floor. Grasping the small iron key, he wiped the filth clinging to it onto his shirt before tucking it into his sleeve, huffing from exhaustion. Three hours of sleep, a beating, no meal, and vomit. His body felt like shit.

He coated the bile with dust off the filthy floor, making it look just like any other of the uncountable stains in the room. From an outsider's perspective, nothing had ever happened.

The lock clunked and the interrogation room opened for the burly man who calmly marched in. Dante Franklin was a tall and brawny looking African American. The type of man that could easily break a person like a match. He was one of the loyal enforcers, a prison guard prior to the outbreak.

The first sight the man had of AJ was of a scared, stupid kid before they realized who had walked in. Effortlessly, AJ slipped into a disinterested glare, slumping into his seat.

Dante seized him before stating. "I'm taking you to the infirmary." He didn't move though, hand resting over the nightstick. "Get up. Hands behind your head."

AJ followed the order without comment, standing and presenting his hands to be cuffed. Dante hadn't even realized the key was slipped into his pocket, nor could he pinpoint when the kid had gotten the opportunity to do so, until he'd patted it out of a gut feeling.

"...I hate this plan..." AJ mumbled through his own exhaustion, less to Dante and more to himself, "...So fucking much..."

Written With: Bullyboy Squad

 

[Togy]

Scene One
The Marines
​

Tino took Denver aside and after a short conversation the two decided to split. Denver's group was going to clean up the mess and grab any useful supplies that didn't get trashed by the explosion before continuing their patrol, aware of the potential undead that could have been drawn towards the sounds. Toni on the other hand was about to take the new prisoners to King.

"Move, bitch." He said when kicking Jamie's back, forcing him to fall face into dirt before he was picked up by one of the beefy men, just like his two fellows. Hughes was on the verge of consciousness and yet they forced him to walk.

They hadn't even bothered dragging Packer along. The bastards had just kicked him in the ribs until they'd decided his lack of response was sign enough of death and left him sprawled across the floor of the overturned truck. Maybe the blast really had killed Packer instantly, or maybe he'd survived only to wake up alone and mortally injured, bleeding out in the overheated wreck choked with glass powder and kicked-up dust, wondering where his squad had gone-if they'd left him, if they were coming back for him.

Jamie didn't like to think about it. Jax's death had already sickened him as it was, losing another friend so close was threatening to make him crumble.

Toni adjusted his speed to move next to Jamie as the Marine was walked by one of the enforcers. He grabbed Jamie by the hair and yanked it to bring the blonde man's ear closer to Toni's face. "That shit ya pulled off back there?" Humiliating the Latino in front of the group. "That shit ya gonna pay for, puto. Ya hear me? I ain't done." He harshly promised before shoving Jamie away. Prompting the enforcer to straighten up the prisoner's posture.

Then he just strutted forward to be on the forefront of the group like a happy cat bringing half dead mice to his master.

Jamie had never been overly quick to anger, but Toni-everyone he'd met from this godforsaken group so far, really-made something inside him churn. Or maybe that was just the threat of stress-induced vomit. His heart felt light, like how he'd get on a rollercoaster before the drop in his teens, constantly dreading the climax with his panic building as it grew closer.

He couldn't even tell what they wanted from them. Two of the five were dead already, what was stopping them from going five for five? Any idea of cooperation seemingly went out the window when they killed Jax and left Packer. Were they just marching them down death row? They'd made it clear they only saw them as liabilities, they killed Jax for his leg and left Packer for dead. Eugene and Huey weren't any better off, Eugene looked dazed and stumbled every step and Huey...god, Huey. He'd been not so subtly trying to get closer to the man and support him for the march, but that had only earned him an elbow to the gut for trying.

The car that previously dragged Jax away was back now. But no Jax nor chain attached to it anymore. It stopped next to Toni's group that climbed to the bed of the truck with the prisoners and soon they were closing in to what looked like a fortress from afar. But as they closed in it turned out to be a prison compound.

* * *​

The captives were walked across the main prison building, earning a lot of hungry and curious stares and some lewd cat calls. Eventually Toni knocked on the leader's door and one of the guards opened it for him. "Brought you sum gifts, patron." The Latino said when striding in and moving aside with a pseudo obeisance and a wide open arm, like a servant presenting the newly acquired war treasures.

Jamie was shoved to his knees, the same as Huey to his left and Eugene to his right. He bit his tongue, a million questions racing through his head and even more rants about the injustice of the entire situation but going unspoken. These people were on hair triggers, they'd made that clear. Not having a reason to let Eugene or Huey live was reason enough for them to kill the two. He didn't know how, but he had to think of something to get those two out of this.

Jax had saved his life, and he couldn't save his. All he could do was fucking watch.

This would be different. He'd get Huey and Eugene out of this, no matter what he had to do.

Written with: Bullyboy Squad
Tags: BeyondDandy