Locked Doors

Eleven o' clock, Friday night. Empty sidewalk, almost empty street. Seemed like it was going to snow any minute now despite the region and the fact that it was only September, which of course made everyone who believed that global warming was total bullshit gloat to their hearts' content. As per usual, downtown was a lot more alive tonight than uptown, but there was barely a difference between the street life. Just different calibers of whores and classier cars in the latter place.

And of course, the bars downtown weren't dimly lit, low-key, and sophisticated. They had neon signs that probably would have blinded anyone who stared directly at them and the music playing from inside shook the windows enough for passersby to feel the vibrations in their chests. One such bar was just a little brighter and a little louder than the rest, and this was the one that all of the underage drinkers with shitty fake IDs had a tendency to flock to. You could be a ten-year-old girl and have a card that says you're fifty two and a man and the barkeepers would let you choose your poison. Money was money, and it had a tendency to persuade certain individuals in the law enforcement line of duty to turn a blind eye on such illicit activities.

This bar was the one that Enoch staggered out of, intoxicated to the point where even clinging desperately to the brick face of the building did little to keep him upright. He'd toned down the rich kid attire so he wouldn't get mugged, and it really helped that his polo was all torn up and stained with crimson from his split lip and bloody nose. He was sporting a black eye, too, which-- combined with the alcohol-induced vision complications-- made it really difficult for him to see anything but very vague shapes.

Yeah, he'd gotten kicked out. Wasn't his fault. That asshole had started it when he'd called him a fag. He was still passed out in the wreckage of the table Enoch had thrown him down on. Fuckin' deserved those broken ribs. He abruptly stopped moving upon feeling a finger lightly jab into his chest. He spotted the owner of the finger a moment later, although there were about four of her, so it took him a few moments more to figure out who she was.

Oh. That hipster from his school. He stared at her blearily a moment, then addressed her in a barely coherent slur: "Th' fuck d'you want?"

"Oh, you know. To challenge the mainstream, swim against the flow like you're doing by hanging out in sleazy bars getting in fights and such. The usual. I was just wondering if there's more alcohol than blood in you right now."

That went right in one ear and out the other. Enoch stared at her, brow furrowed, until she snorted and stuffed her hands right into his front pockets. He was kind of taken aback and totally confused until she produced his car keys and jangled them a few inches from his nose.

"You going home? As much as I dislike people like you, I can't just let you get in your car and drive right into someone's fucking living room."

"Um..."

He didn't really need to answer; she'd already hit the unlock button and found his car (which was miraculously intact considering where it was parked and how nice it was) by locating which one's headlights lit up. She half-dragged him to it and shoved him in the backseat, then hopped in the front and took off.

The only reason Lennox knew where Enoch lived was because she and his sister had been friends in like second grade or something, and she'd been over once or twice. Years ago. But when you live on the shitty side of town and you go somewhere on the nice side, you have a tendency to remember every detail because it's so remarkable in comparison to what you're used to. As soon as she'd parked the car, Lennox threw the keys in the back with him and promptly left with a fleeting, "See you in school on Monday," leaving him to find his own way to the front door while she wandered back in the direction they'd come from. It wasn't like she needed to be anywhere, she just didn't like hanging out around here. Wasn't her scene.

Nico walked out the Web, fully in command of his sensibilities again and immediately went out to the kitchen to bind the burns he had gotten on his left forearm. How this time he couldnt exactly recall, but he did recall one of the lanterns of dirty oil breaking. Might be related.

With his arm freshly bandaged and freshly stinging from the antiseptic and vinegar, Nico sat down at his laptop, which he had named Datex, and got to work on the various writings he was working on. He managed to finish his law review, and get a good start on his pre-psychology report before sitting down to dinner and a movie.

After the movie he did some housework and then proceeded to go out for some night-wanders. Some people just called it lurking around town, but he called it the night-wanders. He just let his feet take him wherever his subconscious wanted to go, and it was never exactly the same twice.

Curiously enough, he wound up on the downside of town. Thankfully he was inconscipuous enough to not attract attention. He had learned the invisibility technique a long time ago. Head down, eyes up, not too fast or slow, dont touch anyone. A small hassle to remember, but it allowed him to effectively spy on the dregs of the city without much notice. The usual thugs in the alleys, hookers on the corners, and dealers in the doorways. A preppy got tossed out of a bar across the street at one point, but apart from that nothing of particular note. He did try to memorize some faces of the dealers, so he could try to sketch them later and turn them over to the cops anonymously. He knew it didnt do anything, but it made him feel better to do something.

Shawn sat on top of his apartment building. It wasn't a tall building for mid downtown, with only four floors. The air was cold, but he was used to cold. He had only been in town for a month and still didn't know what there was to do on Friday nights. He lit a cigarette with his lighter and put it between his lips. He pulled in the dangerous smoke, knowing all to well what was going into his lungs. He lowered the tar stick and slowly vacated the smoke from his lungs. "Such a nasty habit." He breathed, looking at the thin white cylinder. He stood up from the lawn chair that he had hauled to the flat roof of the apartment complex. A few minutes later the cigarette was finished, it lay on the ground four stories down. He was still on the roof though, wondering what there was to do. He pulled out his phone to check the time. "Eleven thirty... Where does the time go? Yeah I could do homework or something, but... It is Friday." He walked off of the roof and down the stairs. He removed a pair of keys for his car, an old Honda Civic that almost didn't have a hood.
It took two tries to get the car to start, but after it did it purred, the cold weather must've been stiffening her up. He turned up the radio and shifted into reverse. Moments later he was driving north on main looking for somewhere he could get a bite to eat. The high end restaurants were all closed or closing, which left fast-food or a bar somewhere. The former sounded the better of the two. He paralleled into a place near the local Waffle House. He noted that the streets were nearly empty as he entered the equally crowded Restaurant. He sat down and ordered a plate of waffles, as well as a cup of warm milk. The only reason he did not get coffee is because it would be leftovers from the morning. He ate slowly talking a little with the waitress, whose name tag seemed... worn. He had never caught her name, either, which was not strange at all because he was horrible with names. Never forgot a face, just forgot who it belonged to. He finished his Waffles as well as the discussion and left, giving her a good tip. He went outside and walked around on the sidewalk, watching the ice crystals form on his breath.

Katelyn emerged from the climbing centre at half-eleven with the group of boys she’d gone in with, the climbing group of course. They’d only left because this was the time the centre closed on a Friday night and so they’d had no choice in the matter. Then again they had been climbing on and off for at least five hours. The usual time.
She was the only one of them who had to take a late night bus all the way out to the sub-urbs, the rest lived closer by in apartments or could walk the distance to the terraced houses of the people who were a little richer. One of the group even had a car, he was the one who’d been showing off earlier and parted from the group early with the new kid who was starting to prove himself. He’d be taking the kid home at this time of night.
One of the other boys darted a head in an attempt to get away from Katelyn but he wasn’t quick enough and her hand hooked into the back of his collar and dragged him back. The others laughed as she dragged him down and started beating him over the head with a chalk-bag. One of them started to throw one the boy’s climbing boots up into the air to catch it, further taunting him.
They all ignored his pleas for help and Kate ignored his pleas for mercy. After all, no one interfered when she got annoyed with someone like that, especially since she could get them back at any time but also because they found it funny.
“We could go to that Waffle Shop around the corner.” One of them suggested to the others.
“Nah, the place is all empty of nothing but scraps.” Another said, before opening out a squashed chocolate bar and spilling caramel all over the place as he attempted to eat it.
“Just… Let me finish this… Before anything else… Is done.” Kate said crossly, punctuating each syllable with a thud of the bag off the boy she’d pulled down.
The one holding the shoe made a gesture as if to throw it onto a roof and the boy Kate was holding scrabbled up in an attempt to reach him before being pulled back again for a further beating for running away.
Like the others however even Katelyn got bored of beating someone who’d annoyed her and left the boy alone as he tried to recover some dignity and face before his friends.
“Hey Kat. Now that you’ve finished… That was a little loud you know. Anyone down the street would have heard his begging… Anyway… Where’d you go on a Friday night?” One of the boys asked her.

Shawn opened his car door and slid in. His phone buzzed before he could shut the door, he checked the message. "Get some milk. Mom. Really?" He thought out loud. He put his phone back into his front pocket when he heard screaming and yelling. "What the hell, is someone getting mugged?" Once again thinking aloud. He stepped back out of the car, and looked up and down his side of the street. Nothing. Opposite side was empty except for a bag lady heading into an alleyway. No one would head into an alleyway where screaming was coming from...
He closed the door and tried to figure out where the indecipherable screams were coming from. He went to the corner, where the Waffle House stood gloomily, the owner was now flipping off lights and such, and the open sign which glowed red a blue neon faded. The owner waved, a wave which Shawn returned quickly and proceeded to investigate the screaming.
Around the corner a group of teenagers about his age seemed to be watching as a kid was being beat up by another of the group. His screams of "Ahhh... Noo- Stop... Please" Were ignored and the beating continued while others seemed to be talking. But as Shawn approached, it stopped, and the group continued the discussion. He wasn't exactly trying to be stealthy but as he approached it seemed they hadn't noticed. Finally he was close enough to see faces and... a car went by temporarily blinding him... Oh well. "Hey! He alright?" He yelled covering his eyes from the car beams.

As a general rule, ice cream trucks in the ghetto that don't sell meth-laced Klondikes bar don't tend to do very well.

Thus, our friend Dmitri was busy placing furniture from inside what was his apartment into the cramped confines of the VANILLAMOBILE ice cream truck. It was decorated with bright happy colors, painted freehand by Dmitri himself (such designs including smiling faces and swirly ice cream cones; he was no Michelangelo, but it looked pretty damned good by one person). Some of the depth on the painting was off, but one look at the one-eyed ice cream man and people stopped caring.

Because who goes to an ice cream truck for a friggin art lesson.

Dmitri decided to try uptown the next day, hoping that maybe some of the richer kids would have money to spare on frozen delicacies. Perhaps their parents wouldn't be too unnerved by the weathered eyepatch and the scars, the hint of a Russian accent and the face that looked like it had been through hell. No, the innocence of children was past all that. Thankfully, he'd broke otherwise.

He didn't look at things finanically, he mused as he managed to fit the twin sized mattress into the back of the truck. No one went in, anyways, and you learned to put up with the cold after a while, so his head on the side of a freezer wouldn't be half bad.

That left the radio, the small collection of books he'd been struggling to read (extra large print, English was still a b*tch for him) and the .44.

Ah, the .44. He disliked violence. He didn't like guns or weapons or anything. But it felt...right. As much as he hated seeing the steel glint when he opened his glovebox, it was likea parasite he couldn't remove safely. He didn't want to be without it, the last remnant of his awful past.

"Let's hope no one searches glovebox for ice cream." he muttered, pulling the VANILLAMOBILE to a parking garage. He gave free ice cream cones to the guards, they turned the blind eye to overnight charges, all was well. He curled up on his mattress, padlocking the doors and grabbing his teddy bear. When he was in the hospital, a little girl had given it to him, and he found it quite relieving when they did surgery. Perhaps a bit unbecoming, and a wee bit embarassing, but soothing nonetheless.

Poor worn old thing. He'd had it for many years, but taken meticulous care of it. He grasped the bear with one arm and opened up the Bible; three weeks and he was five pages into Genesis.

Adam and Eve did the darnedest things.

"Hey! He alright?" A boy called from up the road, he was about their age, he may have even gone to their school. The group wasn’t too impressed with some ‘no-body’ sticking their oar in when it wasn’t needed. A couple of them hurled abuse back the other three jeered, the fourth scampered around on the floor to retrieve his shoe and avoid further provoking Kat.
Kate shook her head and put her hands on the arms of the shouting boys.
“Now, now. There’s no need to be like that to the outsider. Let’s see if he can prove himself first. And then you can go after him if he doesn’t.” Kate’s smile at the last sentence was so sweet it was borderline creepy. The jeering ones hung their heads and one went red before hitting his friendly softly on the shoulder for mocking him as he went red.

“Yeah! He’s okay. If he’s learned his lesson, that is.” Katelyn called back to the newcomer, pulling on her hoody as she gave the boy on the pavement a firm look from which he shrank back.

Sounded like someone was getting beaten up down the street. Huh. Wasn't abnormal around here, but even so. Usually when people pulled shit like that, they at least had the tact to do it in an alleyway rather than out in the open like that. Lennox, of course, wasn't stupid so she didn't investigate too obviously, but she did cross the street so she was on the opposite side from the group of teens who had to have been the cause of the commotion.

Yep. Defs. There was a kid just pulling himself up off the ground. Looked like he'd just received a pretty thorough beating. Once again, she wasn't stupid. None of this was her business. There was no way she was going to stick her nose where it didn't belong; she'd just wanted an idea of what had happened and she'd gotten precisely that.

Someone else was bugging them anyway, and eliciting precisely the reaction she'd expected. Go figure. Some people were too sympathetic for their own good, honestly.

...ugh. Half of her wanted to cause some trouble, though. She was bored out of her mind. Still parallel with the group, she leaned up against a building and pulled out her phone. May as well call someone up. Ardois was always a trip.

Aw fuck, never mind. Right to voice mail. She could settle for his cousin, though. While Ardois was entertaining, Bernard always promised the most fascinating of nights. He knew the city and all of its shadier locations and inhabitants like the back of his hand, and he had such a biting sense of humor that he could manage to make someone laugh at a kitten with a broken neck.

She knew that as a fact.

"Sup Bernard, how's it going?" she asked her receiver, a small smile playing on her lips, "You busy tonight, man? No. I don't want any, you know that. Yeah, I just wanna hang out. Uh huh. Nope. By that waffle place downtown. No, I don't wanna set it on fire. You're fucking insane. See you in a bit."

Crazy bastard. She loved him, though, despite all the nasty ass shit he got into.

Time to just kick back and watch the action across the street.

The jeering from the group was met with a blank stare and a raised eyebrow, unimpressed, he could tell these kids were not exactly his group. Or they once were his group, but no longer because he is trying to dissociate from these... Ugh. He was over thinking things again.
As his vision returned the jeering stopped, one of the shorter of the group spoke something just beyond the limit of his hearing. He caught 'Outsider' and 'prove'. What was this some sort of B.I.O. Gang? Eh, he might as well play along, just to see what was up. He continued his approach.

"Yeah! He's okay. If he's learned his lesson, that is." The obvious leader said. The heavy British accent stuck in his mind... Where had he heard that before? School? Yes of course, that British chick. The nearest street light was a little farther down the street than the group, but provided enough light to prove his speculation as the chick pulled on her hooded sweatshirt.

"Okay then..." He glanced at the group, most of whom were equipped for indoor rock climbing. Not to mention the chalk bags they had attached to them at various places. "I didn't know there was a rock face around here." He said as he finally stood about a yard from the group, nodding quickly at the chalk bag that lay on the ground. His naivety had gotten him into trouble again it seemed.

"I didn't know there was a rock face around here." The boy said, less than a foot away from the group. Katelyn rolled her eyes and put a hand to her face. That was not what you said around a climbing group of this nature. Before any trouble could start she turned around and began pushing the boys further down the street.
“Look, you just go further down the street and let me deal with this before you start causing trouble.” She told them in a slightly commandeering tone.

“Look. That’s really not the sort of thing you say to them if you don’t want trouble later and I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t want trouble. Besides you really shouldn’t be sticking your nose into other people’s business, one day some one’s going to get you for doing that. He deserved what I gave him and that’s the end of it.” She told the boy calmly. Yes she was right, he did go to their school.
Her braid was bumping about uncomfortably against her back and so she reached down her hoody and pulled the long braid out, unravelling it as she did so. The result was a river of mahogany brown hair spilling out over her shoulder and down her front, even going over her shoulder it was still longer than waist length.

"... one day someone's going to get you for that. He deserved what I gave him and that's the end of it." Her voice was calm, and as she started to pull her hair from the hooded sweatshirt, he started to think of the hundreds of times he had been "got". Suddenly his scars across his arms and torso started to itch, not a good sign. Thus he surrendered. He removed his hands from his hooded jacket and leaving his keys and lighter. He had left his knife in his other pants.
"Ok, ok, cool. I get it, no one whats the new kid in their business." He with an apologetic tone, his hands raised like a caught criminal. "Getting got is the least of my worries though." He said quietly as he turned around. "See you at school." She is definitely not a chick you wanna mess with. He walked down the street, wondering what he could have said differently... Nothing he could guess. He was used to it though. He would have to prove himself in order to get respect... But how? He knew it would be hard because he was new.
He pulled out his keys, slowly walking down the street. He began to whistle softly and spun the keys around his finger. He strode to the corner and looked for his car. He spotted it and moved to get in.

Aw come on, that hadn't even been entertaining. Lennox had been expecting a street fight or something, but then nope. Boring. But then again she now recognized the two of them from school, and maybe they knew each other or something. She didn't even care because, just as the guy started to walk away, an old, faded gray Camaro pulled up and parked right in front of her. A tall, lean fellow with dark hair, vibrant green eyes, and a hungry look about him climbed out, shooting Lennox a smile that was more of a smirk than a friendly expression.

He had to be roughly twenty-three and was all pale and sickly looking, and yet he had a surprising amount of muscle on his body. Wiry ropes of muscle stood out on his biceps when he slammed the car door shut and ambled over to Lennox, scratching at the rough stubble adorning his jaw. He looked a tad bit jittery, and a combination of red-rimmed eyes, inflamed track marks in the crooks of his elbows, and sores all over his arms and neck from scratching himself so much indicated a fairly significant amount of drug use. But he didn't really have the demeanor of an addict about him. He just looked like one. It was kind of weird.

"Hey Len, how's it going?" he said all smooth-like, walking right up to her and resting his weight on a hand that he placed on the bricks right next to her head. The action half-trapped her against the wall and forced her to breathe his scent-- something that came from a mixture of smoke of all different varieties, what smelled like oddly flowery burnt plastic but was actually meth, and sweat. Anyone else probably would have been incredibly uncomfortable, but Lennox honestly didn't mind. She knew him well enough that only certain features of his made her nervous, and none of those were physical.

Hell, she really liked to play along when he got like this, and that's precisely what she did. She rested a light hand on his chest, "All's fine and dandy," she said in a flirty tone that honestly didn't match the words at all, nonchalantly tugging her shirt down by the hem ever so slightly so that it showed just a little bit more than it had before, "and you?" She normally didn't act like this, but that was one of the reasons she was doing it. For the irony. Fuck the mainstream. She did what she wanted.

"Good, good. Really wanted to set something on fire, though. Or at least get in some sort of trouble." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the girl across the street's general direction. "Think we could get away with fucking with her a bit?"

"I dunno, maybe? She had a pretty big crew of guys with her a minute ago, and she just beat the shit out of some kid."

"So we have a tough one, eh?" Bernard twisted around to get a better look at Kate while still maintaining his position leaning up against the wall. He unconsciously licked his lips. "You know how I like 'em tough, Len."

Lennox rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I do. Don't want you to feel emasculated if she takes you down, though. I think it'd be better if-- okay." Welp. Looked like he was gonna go for it anyway. Or something. She didn't even know; Bernard was the most unpredictable person she'd ever met.

Bernard strolled right across the street, not bothering to see if there were any cars coming because of how devoid of life this area was at the moment, and approached Kate with this weird air of confidence that seemed out of synch with his junkie-like appearance. "Hey girl, how's it goin'?

He wasn't exactly the smoothest talker in the world, that was for sure.

“Ok, ok, cool. I get it; no one wants the new kid in their business.” The boy put on an apologetic act as he said it but he soon hardened back up and finished in a quiet voice, “Getting got is the least of my worries though. See you at school.” Katelyn frowned as he disappeared around the corner he’d retreated to.
“Yeah… That’s the problem…” She murmured quietly. She knew she’d tried to warn him so there was nothing more to do since she was not in the habit of sticking her neck out for people she hardly knew. She turned to go back to the group which was loitering a little further down the street.

“Hey girl, how's it goin'?” The voice which interrupted her dark thoughts had an almost slick air of confidence about it but it wasn’t smooth. Her head jerked suddenly to the side to see who’d spoken and an incredulous look which almost said, ‘Who? Me?’ stared at the man sauntering across the road towards her.
She didn’t move, much like a deer in headlights or a rabbit before the wheel. Several thoughts were careening through her head but the biggest one was questioning the disparity between this man’s manner and appearance.

At that point the boy she’d been having a go at with the chalk saw his chance for redemption and swiftly leapt up the pavement to get between her and the man. It became apparent that he was taller than her now.
“Keep your hands to yourself, stinking junkie!” He said, squaring his jaw and flexing muscles. He might have looked quite hard himself if it weren’t for the smears of chalk on his face which ruined the image. And that part of his group of friends were holding back laughs while another part looked like they were ready to retrieve him at any second in case he was floored.

Katelyn peered around him, her incredulous look increasing as she did so.

"Hey, I'm not going around touching people, am I?" Bernard said, holding his hands up to relay the message that he was unarmed, "I was just asking this lovely young lady how her evening was." The innocent demeanor slipped away as soon as the words had left his mouth, and he stretched in an uncaring sort of manner, yawning.

Somehow the motion made him seem a bit more menacing, like he was trying to lull them into a false sense of security. Which maybe he was. Seriously. Unpredictable. There was a caustic venom behind his words when he added, as if as an afterthought, "It's not nice to call people junkies, by the by." There was an almost predatory smile to go with that, although he said no more, merely tucked his thumbs in his pockets and cast a cool eye over the boy in front of him, clearly not intimidated at all.

...Lennox wasn't entirely sure what to make of this. May be trouble, may not be; she hadn't seen if Bernard had left his gun in the glovebox or not. God only knew what he had on him at the moment. He probably wasn't going to hurt anyone, though. He usually didn't.

Usually.

Having stayed on the other side of the street, she was kind of too far away to make sure he didn't do anything he'd regret (not that he was the type of guy who often felt remorse for the things he did). So she took a half step, ready to cross the street if the need arose. Not that she'd be able to get him to stop.

Or maybe she would be.

Once again, unpredictable.

Shawn slid the key into the slot onto the door. "Damn cars without remote locks." He opened the door and slid into the seat. He closed the door this time, and just relaxed in the seat. He took a breath, swallowed, and licked his lips. "Hmmm... chapped." He put in the key and twisted, starting the... or trying to start, as it did not. He tried again... and again... and once more. Nothing. "Great." He opened the door and climbed out. He pressed the button for the hood to pop up. "Just great." He went to the front of the car, and unlatched the hood. He lifted the hood, which was already about to come off at the hinges. He looked over the engine and saw the culprit. A battery wire had nearly loosened itself. He fixed it but didn't close the hood.
She started after a couple tries and he shut the hood. "Hmm didn't even need a flash light." He pulled out of the parking space and into the street. Which was empty, until he turned the corner and found a Camaro. "Nice car..." He looked at it warily. It was parked, on the other side of the street than where he was earlier. A girl was there watching something across the street. Turning his head he saw the man standing before the British chick and another person from the group. "Best not to get involved, I suppose." He released the brake pedal and continued down the street.

Katelyn was getting weird vibes from this stranger and weird vibe were best listened to and then avoided. Looking both ways she searched for a possible distraction when she saw her bus, the one that only came around this time, approaching the bus stop at the cross-roads further down the street.
“Oh look! The bus, got to go!” She said suddenly before grabbing the boy in front of her by the collar and dragging him off down the street. She let go of him just before the group of boys they’d been with less than five minutes ago and sprinted through them and down the street with a vague cry which was possibly.
“Damn it’s early! Got to go, bye!”
They stared after her as she got onto the well-lit bus just before it left the stop, her hair glinting and shimmering in the light, even at this distance. Then the bus, which stood out like a sore thumb, began to pull away.

The boys turned to look the other way at the junkie who was now alone before shrugging and sauntering off down the street, making sure Chalk Face didn’t try to leap to anyone else’s rescue before they left. He’d be thoroughly mocked for that later on.

Okay, yeah, leave. Whatever. Bernard could have easily given chase to the girl or the bus, maybe even caught her, but instead he just shrugged, waved like they were friends or something, and cut the asphalt river to get back to Lennox. She was shaking her head somewhat distastefully, and when he stopped in front of her, she folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

She wasn't serious, of course. He was one of the few people who actually understood that about her, something that she loved about him, and he always played along. He responded to her glare with a look of incredulity.

"What?"

She drew in a deep, hissing breath and sighed all dramatically. "You saw those guys. They were so mainstream. I mean rock climbing is pretty cakin' and all but come on. She wasn't even your type."

Bernard drew a little closer, grinning down at her. "Damn, you're pretty hot when you get pissed."

Lennox rolled her eyes. "Perverted, lecherous son of a bitch. Fuck off."

"Skank."

"Bastard."

"Whore."

"Douchebag."

"Slut."

"Asshole."

"Dyke."

"Faggot."

"Saleswoman."

They had been staying remarkably still and resolute throughout this exchange, but when Bernard dropped the s-bomb, Lennox gasped and pushed him away. "You didn't!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, but I did."

"Tweaker."

That just made him snort. "Hipster."

"Why thank you."

"Urgh!" Bernard snorted and headed for the Camaro, snagging Lennox's wrist on the way, "You win this time. Now we're gonna go burn something because I'm feeling awfully pyromaniacal today."

She climbed in the car without hesitation. The interior was just as beat up as the exterior, and was littered with all sorts of odds and ends. That sickly, burnt plastic smell was a lot stronger in here than it was on his skin and clothes and under that and several other, slightly less unpleasant smells, there was this faint odour like something had died under one of the seats. Lennox didn't bother asking where they were going. She was curious, of course, but half the fun was the not knowing.

"So I need to get milk eggs and what?" Shawn asked his mother on his phone. She answered with a quick,"Tomato sauce, I am making omelets for breakfast." He sighed, tomato sauce in omelettes? "Ok yeah. I'll be home soon." "Yeah mom, love you too."
He turned the corner, and got onto the quick way to the market. Tomato sauce? He was obviously going far faster than the speed limit, shifting up and down far more often than most people do. He stopped at a gas station and filled up the tank, he was forced to pay inside. As well as get something to drink.
He payed, he left, and he was on his way to market street with a bottle of mountain dew. You would think most stores would be empty at Midnight... But I suppose not on friday because they were not in the slightest. Shawn drove around for some time looking for a place to park. Finally found one and entered the store. "Damn... It must be pay day." He got what he came for and was soon on his way again and still going far faster than the speed limit.

(( Just gonna next morning to get the plot rolling a little bit. ))

Seemed like it was no time before the sun rose above the buildings, peering weakly from behind thick, stormy-looking clouds that were the exact same color as the smoke still rising from a small fire that had broken out in some alleyway downtown the night before. Out of nowhere, sirens split the still air as a squadron of police cars and a single ambulance tore down the road, headed for the edge of the city. It was only six in the morning, so those who weren't early risers probably wouldn't have heard unless they were light sleepers, but they'd get their share of the action when the morning news came on and announced a recent string of murders starting with one Antoine Rivierre had been found dead in his office with injuries suggesting he had been attacked by some sort of animal, although there were no traces of the killer to be found.

There were crows and ravens and other such carrion birds seemingly everywhere, and they seemed to be watching. Waiting for something, it seemed. Or maybe they were just being fucking birds, who the hell even knew?

Enoch, unfortunately, was awakened by the sirens despite their distance from his neighborhood, let alone his house. Now, this was a guy who normally didn't get hangovers. Today was an exception, though. A horrible, horrible exception. The instant he opened his eyes, needles of light stabbed right into his brain and he groaned and buried his face in his pillow, although that only managed to make it worse somehow. He dragged himself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, only to totally miss the toilet bowl when his legs gave out and he started to throw up.

What a fucking wonderful way to start the day. Once he'd finished puking his guts out, he had to clean up the mess, then he swallowed a generous handful of ibuprofen and all but fell down the stairs, massaging his temples as if that would help. He grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, then retreated to his bedroom again to nurse it in total darkness. Fuck hangovers so hard. He didn't even remember last night at all, especially the details of how the hell he'd gotten home without flipping his car over and dying.

Holly, who had probably been awakened by the sound of him puking, crept down the hall to his room and then pounded loudly on the door for a moment before laughing and heading for the now-clean bathroom. She usually didn't pull douchey shit like this, and go figure that when she did, it was when she knew he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Because Jesus fucking Christ, he never wanted to do anything ever again. Especially go get hammered just because he'd gotten a fucking C on that essay.

Fuck everything.

The sound of lighthearted snoring covered a small area around the Maw, only broken by the occasional twitter of a bird, and the sound of the gurgling waterfall to challenge it. The boy rolled over and as he did so, there was a crunch or two from a piece of charcoal which had seemingly stirred him. His eyes fluttered open for a second, and then coughed himself awake. Murtagh sat up from where he was and continued to cough for another a second and took a breath. As he relaxed he took a look around, as if he didn't know where he was. Party. Ooooh yeah, that was some damn party, hehehe...

"...Where is everyo--Owww, fucking hangover!" Murtagh exclaimed as a pulsing headache interrupted his train of thought. His hand reached for a can of beer that was laying out beside him to soothe his headache, while looking at his smoke stained hands. The beer was the one that was in his hands until the middle of the night but had been released, because, well, why don't you try holding something for an entire night while you're sleeping?

As Murtagh put the edge of the can to his lips, he expected a flat barley taste flowing between across his tongue, but nothing happened. He silently swore to himself and threw it into what was the bonfire. He looked around expecting other people to be around, but as he did he saw nobody along the treeline or around the bonfire itself. After inspecting the teeth of the Maw itself, he came to a conclusion.

"It's just like The Silent Land by Graham Joyce! I'm dead! I'm dead I'm dead, I'm dead!"

Apparently the thought of him getting ditched out her all alone hasn't crossed his mind.

"I died and now I'm gonna die again! Or will I live? Well then again that's only if someone finds my real body, and that..." Murtagh paused for a moment and slammed the palm of his hand into his forehead. "Aw fuck, I am so stoned..."

He reached into his bag for his "special" bottle of vodka that he kept just in case, and slurped it down awaiting the alcohol to soothe what felt like a migraine. Without a second thought, he went to doze back off again where he was. In no time, he was almost snoring again.

A small scuffling sound arose near the trashed party area, like something the size of a small dog was digging through the trash and scattered ashes. Then there was the snap of twig that had accidentally been trod upon and the animal skittered away, hopping lightly over Murtagh's prone body. Something shuffled rather than scuffled this time-- sounded like a person-- then immediately backed away a little. There was another set of footsteps, then the sound of someone stumbling a little as they pushed forward.

"Look at him," a quiet, pleasant voice hissed, "no one would miss him."

The voice that responded was awkward and faltering but somehow just as nice on the ears, "B-but I don't weally..." The speaker evidently could not pronounce his 'r's, as there was more of a 'w' sound there than anything. This time when one of the speakers (probably the less nervous of the two) shoved the other, it was a lot more audible.

"Get on with it," the confident one growled, a touch of anger spraying the words with sparks.

Murtagh groaned as the two individuals approached. The sounds of crunching footsteps nearly stirred him. Their voices penetrated whatever dreams he had, and it would have been only a matter of time until his brain went, "Oh wait, this is a dream. Waking up now!" Murtagh rolled over in his sleep and crushed a chunk of charcoal. At this point, Murtagh was on the brink of consciousness. The point where you're awaking but don't bother opening your eyes or really paying attention to the world because, hey, you're asleep.

"Ow!" the one who couldn't say his 'r's yelped, and the sound of somebody hitting the ground immediately followed. "I c-can't. It's wuh... ong."

"It's either him or you. Or a whole city block. Trust me, you'd much rather do this while you're still capable of rational thought."

"Um..."

Someone scrambled to their feet and then was shoved. Again. This time he landed right next to Murtagh.

The sudden sound of sirens had startled Todd quite a bit. There he was, happily walking down the street, getting some nice morning air, thinking about tons of shit that no one other than him would even care about, when the sound sliced right through his thoughts like a knife through butter. Fuck sake he jumped a mile... There really should be some kind of warning on those sirens so you don't shit yourself when they suddenly go off. It wasn't any less surprising to see fuck knows how many police cars and an ambulance, speed right past you as your just ready to cross to the other side of the street. Would have really sucked if he had happened to walk out right then, as being hit by the police and an amublance sounded not at all fun..

As soon as they had passed, he had rushed across the street. He wondered what all the commotion was about. Surely they wouldn't need THAT many police cars. Or well maybe they did. It wasn't like Todd even had a clue what was going on... so he figured it was best not to come to any conclusions at the current time. He'd no doubt find out later on.

He was quite weary about continuing down the street, considering it was the same direction the police cars and ambulance had rushed towards. He shivered, unsure if it were from a possible hint of nervousness, or merely the cold. He continued walking. He kept telling himself it was nothing really. He was no doubt getting all worried for nothing as usual. Just overreacting. I mean it wasn't like he had never heard a crime had happened, nor seen police cars and ambulances speeding off to investigate and help with whatever he hell it may be.

Yes it was probably nothing. Probably shouldn't really matter to him. He was planning to head home shortly anyway, so there was no reason to get all worked up about this and ruin this walk. Shame it had been crushed already by the sirens. He trudged on anyway. It didn't matter really. He went out in the mornings all the time just to go walkabouts. So it was hardly a loss to him.

No seriously, this was super gay. Fucking alcohol. But the headache was starting to ebb away now, and Enoch actually felt way better than he had upon waking. He just still felt like complete shit was all. And there was no ibuprofen left, go fucking figure. He'd passed out fully clothed the night before, so he didn't need to get dressed or anything; he just had to grab a sweatshirt, flip up the hood, kick some shoes on, and cover his eyes with the darkest shades he could find in the house. He looked like a right mess, and that was a huge understatement. His jaw was dark with uneven hair, the shadows beneath his eyes extended beyond the frames of the glasses, his hair was all messed up (not that it could be seen beneath his hood), and he could barely even walk straight.

Once again, he nearly went crashing down the stairs on his way outside. Had to get more ibuprofen. Like five bottles. Then swallow all of them. Seemed like a good plan. Even the weak, early morning sun made him have to squint his already-shielded eyes so his head didn't explode. He really hated living in the suburbs sometimes. Took ages to get to a fucking CVS.

And then there was those sirens. They'd just come blaring past and he'd nearly passed out from the spikes of sheer agony that the sound drove right into his skull. Where the hell were all of those emergency vehicles fucking going, anyway? They'd sounded like they were almost on the other side of town when they woke him up....