No Permanent Death (The Outsiders)

It Must Suck to be You

"Sorry, I'm calling for one of your agents. Hothead, I believe his name was? My brother worked with him last May-" Darry said in his 'work voice'. The lady on the other side something. "Oh! You can transfer me to him? Wonderful, Thank you."

I chuckled to myself, taking a sip. It took me only a few seconds to remember who 'Hothead' was.

"Darry, are you talking about Dallas?" Darry thought for a moment, nodding. "Hang up! I hate that guy!" I whisper-yelled to him. Darry sighed in annoyance, taking the phone away from his head once again. "You're gonna have to deal with it, Pone. He's the only assassin we know-"

Just like that, the ameche made a clicking sound. Darry put a hand up to silence my retort, holding the phone back up to his face. "Hello? Dallas?"

He was on the phone for the next half hour, angrily telling him how I had run into the shepherds and that the photo they believed to be Bambi was, in fact, not him.

Darry ended the call after Dallas agreed to come over to discuss it further. The doorbell rang just 15 minutes later. "That was quick." Darry murmured, stepping aside to let him in. Dallas shrugged. "I live a town over." He explained.

Dallas was a tall, blonde haired, blue eyed man who seemed to have a permanent grimace on his face. His hair was long and split at the ends, so blonde that it was almost white. He was the same height as Darrel, but a lot more slender and without the cleanliness that Darry prided himself in. He was one of the only agents of any kind that I've ever met who didn't slick back their hair, letting it fall over his face.

He isn't a big fan of mine because he thinks I'm some bratty kid, though I'm only three years younger than him. I don't like him much either, but that never stopped Darry or Soda from working with him.

In my personal opinion he's a doll dizzy fat-headed douchebag who has no regard for anyone but himself. In Soda and Darry's eyes, he was just a bit of an asshole.

Soda smiled over to him when he walked by. "Hiyya Dallas, How are ya'?" He asked as Dallas sat down. "Alright, I guess. What's the dork doing here?" He asked. He didn't even look at me! Soda rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "He's a part of the team. Didn't Darry just tell you how he ran into the Shepherds?"

"Yeah." Dallas shrugged, facing me finally. "Don't go thinking you're all special or somethin'. I've run 'em about a hundred times. It's not some big grandstanding, if you know what I mean." He told me with a lazy smirk that always managed to annoy me. "Did you." I replied in annoyance, rolling my eyes. "Mhm. Who do you think made him lose that eye?" He chuckled, sitting back in his seat.

Darry ruffled my hair as he walked by, going to the head of the table. He tapped at the photo from earlier to get our attention. "We need to come up with a plan." He announced. "Pony's run in with the Shepherds can be really helpful, we need to use it as an advantage."

Dallas nodded, pulling a photo out of his back pocket. "Speaking of run-ins, A friend of mine snapped this on his last mission." He placed it face up on the table, me and my brothers crowding around to see it.
It was a photo of Scarface and Alf, seemingly whispering to each other. "That," He pointed to Tim. "Is the consigliere. His allies call him Scarface-"

"His name is Tim." I interrupted. Dallas looked up at me, eyes widening for a moment before hardening again, almost as if he caught himself. "You know his name?" He asked me, raising a brow. "Bambi accidentally called him that when I was listening in." I explained to the room. I could tell Darry was holding back another 'how unfair' comment.

"You've fought with this guy a million times and you never once caught his name?" I smirked. Dallas just rolled his eyes. "That's above my pay grade. I just kill, and move on. " He shrugged. "Don't go gammin' on about it. You got lucky. Plain and simple." He said casually, like he always did when he tried to insult me. "Gee, when you put it like that-" I began, but Dallas was quick to interrupt.