6:46 am
12.16.41
New York City
Curtis's Secret Base
I awoke to my alarm blaring loudly, Darrel yelling at me to hurry and get ready. I climbed out of bed with a groan and made my way to the bathroom. Sodapop was already there, scrubbing his teeth hastily.
"What's wrong with you two?" I ask as I squirt some toothpaste onto my toothbrush. Soda chuckles, spitting out everything in his mouth before turning to me. "We start the new jobs today. Darry wants us to be on time, for once." He shrugs, washing out his mouth with the faucet.
My eyes go wide. Shit... that's today?! I peek my head out of the bathroom to check the calendar. Sure enough, it was monday. 'New Jobs' was also written in large red letters under the date.
"You didn't forget, did you?" Soda smiles, fixing his hair in the mirror. I envied him for a moment, and how easy it was for him to look put together. "Maybe a little." I muttered when I realized I was staring too long. Soda patted me on the back before heading back into the main room.
I was in the middle of rearranging my hair when Darry poked his head in. "Hurry up! You don't wanna be late on your first day!" He scolded, knocking my hands out of the way to do it himself. I sighed and let him, knowing he was a bit of a control freak.
When he was done I scurried to my room and threw on the first thing I saw. It was one of those nice bars that you had to be invited into, so I knew I had to look somewhat well-groomed. I pulled on a pair of black slacks and a light blue marlboro, grabbing a black tie and rushing out of the room.
"Darry- Can you do this for me?" I asked hopefully, handing it over to him. He rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "Yes, I can. C'mere." He sighed, pulling me closer by the shoulders. He tied it while Soda helped me pull on my shoes, grumbling about needing to learn myself. Which, I did know how... But anytime I did it he'd just tear it off and fix it anyway. I also knew that deep down he loved helping me. It reminded him of when we were young, I suppose.
"Okay, We oughta get-" He stepped back and frowned. "You messed up your hair." He scolded, brushing it to the side. "C'mon Dar, I'll fix it in the car. We need to get going." I said in response, lightly pushing him off. He sighed, following me and Soda out of the door.
Me and Soda could both drive just fine, but Darry liked to do it. Maybe because last time Soda tried to drive us he ran into the side of a building and almost killed us. But, most likely, it was just so that he had an excuse to come along.
"I want you both to know that this is gonna be tough." Darry began. I sighed, knowing a lecture was coming. He turned to glare at me in the backseat before quickly turning back to the road. "I'm being serious. This is the closest either of you will ever be to the mob, and you need to remember to stay vigilant."
"I know Darry, this isn't my first undercover mission." Soda chuckled, before turning back to me. "It is yours, I guess.. You know the basics though, don't you?" I nodded in response, fixing my hair in the reflection of Soda's cheaters. "Of course I do. What are our names?" I asked, directing it towards Darrel.
"Good question." He smiled, before glancing over to Soda. "You will be Joey Bianchi. And you," he pointed to me. "Will go by Antonio Ricci." He said. I frowned. "Those names are kinda generic." I muttered, leaning back in my seat. "So?" Darrel asked, sparing a glance at me in the rear-view mirror. "They sound fake." I reiterated.
"Yeah, Guess so. But that's what Dallas put you both as, and don't you dare try to say anything else." He paused, letting himself crack a smile. "And if anyone laughs- Both of your last names mean 'white'." He chuckled. Me and Soda both rolled our eyes. "Figures, Dally would say somethin' like that." Soda said with an easy smile. "Not that he can be talking. He's as pale as a ghost." I muttered, both of my brothers laughing in response.
"I'll have to agree with you there." Darrel chuckled, turning into the city. "Nevermind that now. Just remember those names, you won't be able to get in without them." He informed us. "Make sure you don't go in together, either. If you both are obviously working together, it'll be suspicious."
"We know Darry." Soda smiled over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about us. This is probably less dangerous than what we did a few nights ago." He laughed. Darrel sighed, his shoulders falling a bit. "I know Soda, It's just- If you two see anything, and I mean anything, that looks dangerous I want you to get the hell out of there." He paused for a moment, looking back at me in the rear-view. "This mission is nowhere near as important as your lives are. I don't want either of you getting hurt because you're trying to get more information. Okay?"
Me and Soda both nodded, noticing the shift in his demeanor. Darry was worried, like he so often was. He didn't usually let it show as much as he was now- but this was a big deal. None of us have ever gone this kind of undercover, or gotten this up-close and personal with the mafia. This could make or break the whole case.
7:45 am
12.16.41
New York City
Greenhill Lounge Parking Garage
He pulled into the same parking garage that we were in just three days before, being extra slow with picking a spot. "This is as far as I can take you." He frowned, turning to me and Soda. "Call me if you guys need to leave early, okay?"
Again, me and Soda both nodded. He sighed, giving us a sad smile. "I know you'll both do just fine. I'm just..." He paused before shaking his head. "Nevermind. Report back to me if you see anything useful."
"Will do, Darry." Soda nodded, getting out of the car. I did the same, waiting for Darrel to open his window. "See you soon, Darry." I told him. We all shared a quick hug before me and Sodapop went on our merry way. Soda checked his watch right before we turned the corner that the speakeasy was on, holding his arm out to stop me. "We gotta split up here. One of us'll have to be late."
I didn't respond. I fervently fixed my hair in the window, mind going a mile a minute. The worry was hitting me now, and I wished silently that I never volunteered. This is how I was going to die. Ponyboy Curtis, the idiot who went on a super important undercover mission under a stupid name wearing stupid clothes with stupid hair that won't do what he wants it to-
Soda snapped his fingers a few times in my face, smiling when I blinked at him. "There you are. Go ahead and go in, I'll be the asshole." He chuckled. I nodded, breathing out a slow sigh. "Alright. Okay. I'll go." I muttered, turning towards the street. He put a hand on my shoulder just as I began to take my first step. I turned back to face him, raising a brow.
"Don't sike yourself out, I promise it's not as bad as Darry makes it out to be. Just..." He thought for a moment. "Remember everything we told you- and, your name is Antonio Ricci. Don't tell anyone your real name." He said quickly, checking his watch again. I got the hint, speeding off. "Antonio Ricci, Got it." I breathed out as I turned the corner.
I walked towards the entrance on the side of the building, not the same one I remembered from a few nights ago. Two large men in sleek, black suits were by the door, standing at the sides and looking ready to fight anyone off. I sighed, making my way to them. They didn't even turn to face me when I got closer, just stood there like statues. I didn't recognize either of them, but that might be due to their large cheaters that only left their stone-cold faces. "Name?" The one on the left asked, voice deep and terrifying. "Antonio Ricci." I responded, trying for confidence.
The other checked a clipboard I didn't ever realize he had, scanning it with his finger. He flipped through two pages and I was starting to wonder if I had gotten the name wrong. But then his finger stopped and he spoke. "The new barkeep. Right on time." He said lowly, not an ounce of personality in his voice. They both stepped out of the way at once, opening their arms to signal me in. "Go to the fourth floor." One said.
I nodded, thanking them quickly before rushing in. The inside was just as nice as I remembered, though much larger looking due to its emptiness. I couldn't help but notice that the room looked rather different. There was a lobby desk replacing the bar, a lady writing away in the middle. Everything was marble and wood, looking sleek and clean. I followed the red, beautifully patterned carpet to her.
She didn't look up. I looked around the desk, seeing a bell that said 'ring for assistance'. I sighed, hating the idea of ringing a bell for someone's attention. I did it anyway which caused her head to shoot up.
"Ciao giovanotto, come posso aiutarti?" She smiled, showing off pearly white teeth. "Huh?" I muttered. She shook her head with a laugh. "Hello young man, how can I help you?" She asked. I breathed a sigh of relief."Hi, uh-" I glanced down at her nametag. "Hello Evie, could you point me to the stairs?" I asked as kindly as I could, searching the room. She giggled, setting down her pen. "Would you prefer the elevator?" She asked. I nodded. "Right over there, right behind the woman in the red dress." She told me, pointing a red painted fingertip towards my right.
I thanked her and scurried to the elevator. Standing there was a woman and a man whom I could recognize even by just the back of their heads. Scarface and... uhm... Well I didn't catch her name, but she was in that room with the Shepherds. She was dressed in a deep v-neck red dress with a flowing skirt. Her back was cutout, part of her skin peeking out beneath a black blazer that looked a little too large to be hers. Next to her was Scarface, dressed in a costly looking white shirt with black slacks similar to my own. When I stepped beside him (shaking in fear) I noticed his dark red tie and her diamond jewelry.
Neither of them spared a glance my way. Tim continued to stare forward while the woman had civil conversation with the elevator operator in, what i'm guessing, is Italian. Their conversation was stopped abruptly by the elevator dinging, the well-carved wooden doors opening slowly. The operator gestured for us all to step on before getting on herself.
"Pavimento?" She asked in a sweet voice. "Five." Tim grunted. The woman in the red dress elbowed him. "Cinque, Please." She said to the operator with a guilty smile. Her finger hovered over the 'five' button as she faced me. "Floor?" She asked again. I decided not to be too upset that she immediately assumed I spoke English. "Four, please." I muttered, almost scared to speak with the man next to me.
She nodded, pressing both buttons. We were barely a foot higher when the woman in the red dress peaked around Scarface, smiling down to me. "Hey, you have eyes, do you think this outfit makes me look fat?" She asked sweetly, twirling around. "You can be honest, I can handle it." She added, looking at me expectantly.
I spared a glance at Tim, seeing him glaring right back at me. I gulped before turning to face her with a smile. "No, Not at all." I said.
And it was true. She was absolutely stunning, there's no denying that. But something if looks could kill, Tim would've shot me right in-between the eyes.
She giggled, nudging Tim. "See? I told you!" Tim rolled his eyes. "I don't recall saying you looked fat, I just said it's too big to look normal on you." He grumbled. She rolled her eyes. "Same thing. I know you're just whining cus' you want it back." She teased playfully, poking him in the cheek. He opened his mouth to reply, but was quickly interrupted by the ding of the elevator.
He glared at me like it was my fault. Which, in all fairness, it technically was. I didn't look back, quickly getting out and looking around the room. I recognized the place immediately, seeing Comma talking angrily with a man at the bar. It was the room we were in the night before. It occurred to me then that the building was on a slanted road.
I didn't have much time to think about it, because Comma immediately called me over. "Hey! You ova' there! Git over here, now!" He yelled, waving me over. I quickly ran to him, letting him pull me behind the bar. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked angrily, squeezing my arm.
"I thought I was on time?" I asked frantically, trying to pull away. He let me go, though I could tell his hands were itching to slap me. "15 minutes early is on time, here." The man at the bar answered. I looked over to him, raising a brow.
"Steve, But most folks call me Slick." He spoke in a southern drawl similar to Comma's, holding out his hand to shake. I shook it, quickly wiping it on my pants afterwards, which he most definitely noticed.
"That's kind of a dumb rule." I muttered. "Most rules are." Comma chuckled. Slick just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and looking me up and down. "Didn't think they'd hire another white guy." He said to no one in particular, causing Comma to shrug. "Y'know how the boss is- 'all hands are good hands' and alla' that." He paused. "Say, where did he pick you up from?"
It took a moment for me to realize I didn't exactly have a response. Luckily, I was saved by the elevator dinging. Soda stepped out, practically running over to us.
I could immediately tell that he was more experienced with this kinda thing than I was. Judging by the way he quickly apologized for being late and shook both men's hands. Comma sighed without yelling at him, leaning back on the bar. Lucky bastard.
"Now that everyones here," He glared at Soda. "We oughta get a move on, I gotta' make the regular's drinks." He said, moving to grab some glasses from the sink. Steve watched him silently before turning to Soda. "The names Steve, Most people call me Slick." He said for the second time that day, shaking Soda's hand.
"Joey." Soda responded with ease. "Some folk's call me Joe, I don't have a sweet nickname like you do." He chuckled. Steve chuckled. "Not yet. The boss gives out nicknames like Oprah gives out cars." Buck says, setting down two glasses on the counter. "I'm-'' He began but I quickly interrupted, itching to speak. "Comma." I said.
He raised a brow over at me. "How'd you know that?" He asked suspiciously. Soda spared a worried glance over at me. "Your nametag." I sputtered. Comma scoffed. And sure enough, when I looked down at it... it said 'Buck'. Shit.
"Have we met?" Buck asked, looking me up and down while squinting. "I'm not sure." I muttered, knowing I had already dug my own grave. Luckily, he seemed too annoyed at the moment to worry about it. "Whatever." Buck sighed, handing the two of us the glasses.
"Do you boys know how to work a tap?" Buck asked, looking over to us. I didn't, but Soda nodded so I nodded as well. "Great." Buck smirked. "Now show me." He said, sliding two glasses over to us. Soda caught his with ease, while I stumbled to grab it before it toppled over.
I watched Soda quietly, mirroring his movement. We both turned to Buck and Steve when we finished. "Good." Steve said in approval. It went like that for the next ten minutes, Buck breezing past everything so quickly I barely remembered where the ice was.
"Not that it really matters to you guys." I sighed a breath of relief. "You'll be headin' around gettin' orders and handin' out drinks. The two of ya' are capable of that, right?" He asked, eyeing the both of us. Me and Soda nodded. "Great. There are notepads under the bar if you's can't remember the orders well enough. There are people worth dealin' with on floors five to eight, so I expect you two to be constantly filterin' through them." He said, throwing the glasses in the sink.
Me and Soda both nodded again, waiting for further instruction. Buck rolled his eyes. "What are y'all waitin' for? Shoo!" He yelled, waving us off. Soda grabbed a notepad and so did I, scrambling over to the employee elevator. There was no operator, which was a bit worrisome. But I was more scared of Buck's wrath, so I quickly hopped on.
"How's about you take seven and eight, and I'll take five and six?" Soda asked the second the door shut. "Yeah, works for me. Good idea." I nodded, thankful that he had enough experience to know what to do. Soda got off at five and I got off at seven.
I looked around the room worriedly, seeing a lot more people than I was expecting. I didn't know for sure how to go about this- luckily for me, I was immediately flagged over the second I pulled out my notepad.
Most of the day wasn't really worth noting. It was honestly just stressful. There were a ton of people on both floors. Me and Soda were constantly running back and forth. There were still a few other things that certainly threw me off track. Like how an old woman tried to get me to sleep with her in the bathrooms and there were a few rude folks, but that was honestly expected. Though, there was one asshole I'll never forget.
He had dark curly hair and a nice suit on, a lady with fiery red hair and a striking green dress sat beside him. He called me over with a whistle, like I was some sort of animal. I could already tell he'd be obnoxious, but I put on a brave face and hurried over. "Yes sir?" I asked, pulling out the notepad.
"Gimme' a Manhattan, the nicest you can get. Also a' gin rickey for the lady." He smiled lazily, wrapping an arm around the (clearly drunk) woman possessively. I nodded, writing it down quickly. "Name?" I asked, looking up at him. He rolled his eyes. "I ain't handing out my name to a tool like you. You seriously can't remember me for two seconds?" He asked angrily. "I can, sir." I replied, trying to hide the bite in my tone. "But I need a name for the check."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Put me down as Sheldon, will ya'?" I didn't reply, just nodding before rushing to the elevator. I glared at him silently as the door closed, muttering swears to myself as I went down. I gave Steve the order, silently watching him make it. I quickly grabbed it when he was done, rushing to the elevator. I'd rather not give that guy a reason to be mad at me.
But when I stepped back out I noticed he was completely missing. I rolled my eyes, setting the drink down angrily. I mopped up the bit that spilled with my sleeve, going to serve someone else. I was able to give out a few more orders before he came back, the woman nowhere to be found.
I watched silently as he picked up the Manhattan, taking a sip. He immediately spit it back into the cup, looking around with furrowed brows. He called me over with a 'hey, kid!', interrupting the person who was ordering. I made a point to be extra slow before heading over.
"Yes?" I asked politely, watching him seethe. "The bourbon in this- it's shit! How damn poor do you think I am?!" He yelled, standing up. "That's the best bourbon we can give you, the only nicer one is-"
"Reserved! I know!" He interrupted, glaring at me. "Well then you know we can't give it to you. It's reserved for a man named Bob-" I began, but he yet again interrupted. "Sheldon! Bob fucking Sheldon! That's my damn name!" He yelled angrily. I found myself getting angry as well, adding a bit of aggression to my voice.
"Look, man, I didn't know. I can just get you another drink- '' Before I could get the sentence out, he shouted something about me 'shutting my damn mouth'. Before I could ever really comprehend what was happening he threw the drink at me. The brown liquid splashed over the entirety over the front of my shirt, effectively soaking me and leaving a heavy stain. Just as I was about to yell at him, someone else did it for me.
"What the hell was that?!" A voice to my left yelled, causing the room to go silent. I turned, seeing Bambi stood over to the side of us. He looked infuriated, looking me and Bob up and down. Bob took a step away from me before turning to face the man. Bambi must've been a foot shorter than him, but the man still cowered in fear. He took the boy's hand, placing a soft kiss over a ruby ring on his pinky. I bit back a laugh watching as he swatted the man away.
"I'm sorry, sir. This boy, he- is utterly incompetent." Bob muttered, glaring at me. Bambi scoffed. "Is he? Well, My dear friend chose to hire him. Are you calling my friend incompetent, Bob?" He seethed, looking up to Bob like he was dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. Bob froze, sweat dripping down his face.
"Well, uh- you see-" He sputtered. Bambi held up his hand to silence him, and it worked like a damn charm. "You've spilled your drink all over my carpet. I oughta bill you for that, y'know." He said angrily, smirking at the end. "And we both know you owe me enough damn money." Bob frowned, but decidedly kept his mouth shut.
"You're wanted on the second floor." Bambi added ominously, waving him away. Bob scurried over to the elevator, glaring at me from behind the boy. Bambi watched silently as he left, rolling his eyes when the door closed. He turned back in my direction, looking me up and down silently.
Now I understand why Bob was so freaked out- this was horrifying. Something about the way he calmly inspected me, it was like he knew every single thought I was thinking. And now that I know what he's capable of...
"Thank you." I muttered, mouth agape. Bambi finally looked up to my eyes. He shrugged with a soft smile that almost made him look sweet. "No sweat." He said casually, turning to leave. "He'll be dealt with." Bambi muttered as he entered the elevator. By the time I realized what he said, he was already gone.
The phrase was odd, but I decided to write it off for now. I took about four more orders before I headed down to the bar. I gave the drink orders to Buck, waiting patiently for him to make them. He was halfway through the first drink when he finally looked at me. "What happened to you?" He asked with a chuckle. I sighed loudly. "That asshole with the Manhattan threw it on me cus' the bourbon wasn't expensive enough. Can you believe that?"
"Sure can. Happened to alla' us at least once." Buck shrugged, placing the third drink on the counter. "What size are you?" He asked. I raised a brow. "Why?" I asked suspiciously. He rolled his eyes. "They keep changes of clothes for us so we don't have ta' wear soggy clothes when that happens. Unless you want to." He opened up a cabinet behind him. "Oh, Uh- I'm a medium. In mens." I responded, feeling a little embarrassed.
"Yeah, I assumed it was in mens." He chuckled, handing me a red shirt. "The boss sure likes red, huh?" I asked, taking it from him. "Yeah, man. Why do you think everyone always wears it?" Buck smirked, motioning to himself and Steve. They were both wearing some form of red, Buck had on a red tie and Steve's shirt was red like this one. "If you wanna get on his good side, wear anything blood red. Always works."
"Thanks." I smiled, heading over to the bathrooms. Buck called me back over right before I opened the door. "What?" I asked him, looking confused. "That ones out of order. Go down to the second floor, there shouldn't be anyone in there." He informed me, pointing to the elevator with his thumb. I nodded, taking the regular elevator down.
The operator once again asked in English and I once again replied in it. I stepped off on the second floor, finding the bathrooms immediately.
I locked the door behind me and made quick work of changing. The room was silent except for soft jazz playing through a speaker on the ceiling, which allowed me to think.
That Bob guy sure was an asshole. Who on earth is that obnoxious about drinks- and who even drinks at this time of day?! Not to mention that he apparently owed the Mob a lot of money, so buying drinks while he was this close to them wasn't much of a good idea. What did Bambi mean? 'He'll be dealt with'... that sure is ominous. Is he going to add a few bucks to his bill or...
I did up the last button and checked myself in the mirror. The shirt fits like a glove, I'd say. It didn't look half bad either. I fixed my hair before doing finger-guns in the mirror and stepping out, breathing in a breath of fresh air. I still held my soaked shirt in one arm, taking one look at it before deciding it was unsalvageable. I searched the room, seeing a door that led to the outside. There's gotta be a dumpster out there, I thought.
Just as I started to open the door, I heard it. Sobbing. Pathetic, loud, and terrified sobbing. I knew in the back of mind that I should mind my own business and just find another trash can. Darry wouldn't want me to stay away. Curiosity did kill the cat...
But I'm a man. Who even likes cats anyway?
I opened the door slowly, ducking behind a dumpster a few feet from the door. I peaked around the side, trying my best to ignore the smell of garbage... and the metallic smell of blood.
We were in a dark alley, somewhat cliche but it seemed to get the job down. Far away I could see people gathered. When I looked closer, I recognized it was the Shepherds, Bambi standing in front and looking down at something with an eerily calm expression. I leaned a little farther, catching a glimpse at the man on the ground.
It was Bob. But his suit jacket was tossed to the side and there was blood seeping down the side of his face from his forehead. He originally tidy hair being messed up by Bambi's hand, who seemed to be practically beating his face against the brick wall.
I bit back a thought that he deserved it, for throwing that drink at me. I pulled my notepad and pen from my back pocket, writing down whatever I heard.
"I'm not gonna ask you again, where's my money?" Bambi asked angrily. Bob grunted, the boy's hands holding tight in his hair.
"The thirty thousand- It's all upstairs! In the briefcase! If you just let me get it-'' He began frantically, being interrupted with the boy once again bashing his head against the wall. "30 thousand? Don't you know about interest?" Tim laughed, hands in his pockets as he watched with a gleeful expression.
"I didn't think-" Bob began. Then Alf gave him a swift kick to the un-touched side of his face, his skull making a disgusting sound against the brick as it once again hit it harshly. Bob cried out in pain, tears seeping down his face."You never seem to think." Alf smiled, looking just as amused as the other two, Bambi still seething beside them.
Bambi rolled his eyes, fishing a switchblade out of his back pocket. He flicked it open and held it against the man's neck, holding him taut by his hair while he tried to move away. "Please- I have a family!" Bob cried, legs kicking wildly as he tried to move away from the sharp silver of his blade.
"Where are they now?" Bambi asked with a dark smile, watching as the man gasped and sobbed. Bob looked a lot less threatening at the moment, it's hard to believe that just a minute ago he was yelling and throwing things. "C'mon man," Bob begged, staring at Bambi with hopeful eyes. "You understand me, right? Family is what you're all about!"
Bambi's eyes widened for a moment before going back to his angered expression, almost as if he caught himself. "I wouldn't call what you have family. Say, when was the last time you asked your lovely wife how she was doing?" He smirked, letting the blade slowly pull against Bob's skin. I could see blood slowly dribble from the cut it was making, Bob letting out a loud shriek in pain.
"Look Bambs, he's crying!" The woman laughed, pointing at him. Bambi laughed as well, looking back at her. "That he is. Wanna' take my place, Bella?" He asked sweetly, as if he wasn't actively cutting open a man's esophagus. Bella nodded quickly, gently grabbing the blade before taking his place. I could tell her nails were dug into the man's scalp by the way he cried. I made sure to quickly write down her name in the corner of the page.
"Please, just- I'll get the money! I promise!" Bob sobbed, looking only at Bambi. The boy sighed in response, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "This isn't about the money anymore, my friend. Do you think I'm foolish enough to let you play me again?" He demanded, tipping Bob's chin up with only one finger.
"N-No Sir, I just- Isn't this a bit drastic?!" Bambi frowned. "I don't think it is." He looked back to Tim and Alf. "Do you boys think this is drastic?" He asked casually. Both men shook their heads. "Personally, I think you're being too kind." Tim shrugged, glaring down at the man on the ground.
"I-" Bob began, but he was silenced with an incredibly well aimed kick to the middle of his forehead. The kick forced him back into the wall so hard his head bounced forward, his neck getting cut deeper on the blade. "Did I ask for your input?" Bambi asked angrily, glaring at him in a way that was akin to Tim.
Bob didn't speak, maybe he couldn't. Bambi just rolled his eyes. "Cry me a damn river Bob. I didn't like you from the beginning." He paused, dropping the man's head. "Shoulda' known you'd pull some horse-piss like this." He muttered to no one in particular. He then turned back to Tim, eyeing a pistol in his left hand.
"Get this over with, will you?" He asked kindly. That seemed to catch Bob's attention. He surged forward, ignoring the blade pressing into his neck. He grappled onto Bambi's leg, gripping for purchase as he begged. "No! Please! I'll-" Bambi shoved him off before he could finish. "Ugh! Get your fucking hands offa' me!" He shouted, grabbing the pistol from Tim and placing it between his eyes. Bob stared at it in terror, suddenly going silent aside from labored breaths.
"There you go! Finally shutting your damn mouth. Huh, Sheldon?" Bambi smiled gleefully, causing the few around him to laugh. "It'd be a real shame if you kept talking and I had to take out a few of those teeth to shut you up. Especially since you've got such a lovely smile." Bambi added, sounding just as sarcastic as Dallas usually did.
Bob yet again didn't speak, getting the hint. Bambi sighed annoyedly, dropped his hand with the gun. Bob breathed a sigh of relief. "What should we do?" Bambi asked, turning back to his group.
"Just shoot him, man." Tim shrugged. Bambi frowned. "I don't like guns. Knives are so much quieter." He murmured, sounding somewhat like an upset child. "They also hurt a lot more." Bella added with a smile. Bambi nodded in agreement. Tim rolled his eyes, grabbing the gun out of Bambi's hand. "I'll do it, then. We need to hurry before someone notices we've been gone." Tim seems to almost scold them, like Darrel would with me and Soda. Bambi shrugged. "Works for me."
"No!" Bob cried when Tim placed the barrel back against his forehead. "Please- I'll do anything!" He cried, looking hopefully at Bambi. "You want my house? My wife? Name anything and it's yours!" He begged helplessly. Bambi scoffed, looking somehow even more pissed than he did before. "I thought you were a family man?" He raised a brow.
Bob, caught in his own lie, tried to sputter out a reasonable reply. But Bambi put up his hand to silence him before turning back to Tim. "Get rid of him. I can't stand his whiney voice." He grimaced. Tim smiled, cocking the gun. Bob started to cry harder, trying to get away from the gun.
Tim pulled the trigger not a moment later. I held back a scream as his brain splattered the wall behind him, making a wet squelching sound that made me gag. The other three seemed rather calm about it, Bella dropping his head and watching his body collapse to the floor. She wiped her gloved hands off on her dress, the blood red color leaving no stain against her already red dress.
Scarface tucked the gun back into his back pocket, looking at Bambi expectantly. Bambi was inspecting the body with an easy smile. "Y'know how we're repainting the house?" He asked casually, looking back at the few. They all nodded. "I want that color right there." He said gleefully, pointing to a part of the wall that was well-saturated in the man's remains. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Tim shook his head half-heartedly with a chuckle. "It is very pretty. Good eye Bambs." Bella smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. Bambi let her, oddly enough. "I'll see if there's a similar color." Tim nodded with an amused smile.
"What should we do with the body?" Alf asked, interrupting the previous conversation. "Dump it in the river near his house. They'll just assume his wife did it, they always do." Bambi shrugged. "Like the Chicago musical!" Angela smiled, clapping her hands together. Alf rolled his eyes. "Musicals are so stupid. I don't get why you watch them." Alf replied, Tim nodding in agreement. The woman rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips with a frown. "Why do you hate musicals so much?"
"Anyone who says that they like musicals is either lying to themselves, has never watched one, or is a heartless android sent by the government to blend into society and collect information about us." Tim said casually, causing the other three to throw him weird looks. "Jeepers, Tim. Next time just say you don't like musicals and move on." Bambi said with an awkward smile, clapping a hand on the man's back. Bella just rolled her eyes.
"This is why Bambi is my favorite. Is it so hard to ask for brothers with taste?" She asked sadly, seemingly praying. Alf rolled his eyes. "If liking musicals is tasteful to you, then yes. Also- why are you using our callsigns? Nobody is gonna hear us back here." He asked in amusement.
"You never know who's listening!" Bella said, jumping at him to scare him. She giggled when he flinched. "Whatever you say, Angela." Alf laughed, narrowly dodging the smack to the back of his head. "Watch your damn mouth!" She yelled. "Mmh." Bambi nodded in agreement. "I'm gonna go change- his hands were... so sweaty." He added, a shiver going down his spine at the end of his sentence. Tim rolled his eyes. "You're such a clean freak." He laughed, licking his thumb and using it to wipe off some blood on his suit. Bambi swatted him away.
"If I wasn't, who would be? Speaking of, you were all wearing gloves... right?" He asked hopefully. Tim and Angela both showed him their glove clad hands, while Alf just shrugged. "I didn't. You never gave me any." He said. Bambi made a disgusted sound, both him and Bella stepping away from him."I totally did! Gross!" He cried, eyeing Alf's hands suspiciously.
"Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't even touch him!" Alf said defensively. "Yeah, But you got close! Oh my god Curls- what if you caught something?" Bella cried worriedly, making him roll his eyes.
I couldn't help but think about how they sounded... They spoke like regular people. If there wasn't blood pooling at their feet I would think they were just participating in playful sibling banter. The four almost sounded like... me and my brothers. Maybe they weren't the psychotic monsters Darry and Soda told me they were.