#both big scruffy men turning the corner and startling each other

[fritzllang]

so! here’s the Vic/Eddie nobody asked for, featuring a road bar, some country music and even a couple of punches! thanks to @anticmiscellaney for giving me great ideas and editing my awful typos. hope you all enjoy

all the songs referenced are listed at the end

Don’t touch me, I’m a real live wire (Vic/Eddie, G, 3.6k)

“Uhhh… I’m bored as shit,” Eddie lets the pool cue fall from his hands onto the table as he speaks, and Vic gives him a raised eyebrow. They’ve been shooting pool for a couple hours now, but he’s noticed Eddie’s attention drifting away from the game for the past thirty minutes.

“Let’s go someplace,” Eddie insists.

Vic props himself up and nods obligingly, “Okay,“ he looks up for a moment, musing, and remembers there’s a place he’s been meaning to visit. “Let’s go to Bull’s Bar-B-Q.”

Eddie tenses up, only for a moment, but the gesture doesn’t escape Vic’s attention. He knows him, he can tell there’s something up, so he follows Eddie out of the room and down the stairs and waits for his answer.

“Nah, don’t feel like it,” Eddie says nonchalantly, “pick somewhere else.”

Vic squints his eyes. What is Eddie trying to hide from him? Is there something, someone at the bar he doesn’t want Vic to run into? “I wanna go to Bull’s.”

“Well I don’t,” there’s a tang of irritation in Eddie’s voice as he puts on a flashy yellow and blue polyester jacket, “so let’s go someplace else.”

Vic reaches to open the front door and smiles slowly, looking at Eddie with slightly raised eyebrows; he takes a bit of amusement in making Eddie nervous. And if there’s something he doesn’t want him to know about at the bar, then Vic’s going to find out.

“Well I’m going to Bull’s,” he takes his car keys out of his pocket and walks out into the driveway toward his Cadillac, “You’re welcome to come if you want.”

He knows Eddie will follow, and sure enough, he huffs loudly behind him, making a show out of his sulking as he gets into the car, “Vic, you’re impossible.”

In the way over Eddie turns the radio’s dial one way and the other every two minutes, doesn’t let a single song end before he’s changing stations. Every time it looks like he’s finally picked something to listen, his arm shoots out and he’s at it again. Eventually, Vic clicks his tongue irritated and reaches across to slap Eddie’s hand away.

“Leave the fucking thing alone, you’re getting on my nerves,” he glances at Eddie, and tries again to get an answer, “What is up with you?”

“Well for starters I don’t wanna go to that stupid cowboy bar of yours.”

Vic takes a long drag off his cigarette, peers at Eddie before answering, “Why not?”

“I don’t fucking feel like it,” Eddie drags the words out, like he’s trying to make a stubborn child come to reason. Vic doesn’t raise to the bait.

“Why not?”

“What the fuck does it matter why?” There’s a vein starting to swell in Eddie’s neck.

Vic shrugs indifferently, “Well I wanna go because I haven’t been there since I left the can. Nobody’s forcing you to come.”

Eddie throws up his arms out like that’s the most stupid thing he ever heard, “Oh, yes, I can just get out here in the middle of fucking nowhere and walk back home.”

“Just sayin’.”

They’re both dancing around the issue, pretending they don’t know there’s something Eddie’s not saying. Vic doesn’t push, just keeps driving until he sees the neon sign creep up behind some trees.

They pull up into a place on the side of the road with a big parking lot full of pick-up trucks and motorbikes. The blinking sign on the front displays the face of an angry bull with big red horns, along the name “BULL’S BAR-B-Q”. Vic parks the car and gets out, then comes around the back to open Eddie’s door with a grin. Eddie rolls his eyes, pouring sarcasm into every word as he speaks, “Who woulda thought, prison’s turn you into a real fucking gentleman.”

Vic ignores the acid in his voice as he follows him toward the door.

The room is crowded, dimly lit with fake orange kerosene lamps on the tables and neon signs on the wall with the names of beer brands. Gang bikers in leather vests mumble among each other in the dark corner tables, and men dressed in cowboy outfits take their girls out to dance on the open floor by one side, where a young man who’d made a great Waylon Jennings softly sings …Someday when we meet up yonder, we’ll stroll hand in hand again… if some cowboys hug one another and start dancing together, nobody seems to notice.

As soon as they’re inside Vic notices Eddie’s attempt to be subtle about the way he’s giving the whole place a glance, stretching his neck and looking left and right. Vic sneaks closer in silence until he’s perching over his shoulder and whispers quietly on his ear, “See a table you like, Eddie?”

Eddie jumps startled and shoots back a glare at Vic, slowly blinking, “Do not fucking do that to me Toothpick.”

Vic can’t help a low chuckle as he settles a hand on Eddie’s neck and squeezes softly, “Why you so hot under the collar, huh?”

Eddie seems to be satisfied with his survey of the place, because he shrugs away, turns around and sits down on the first table that he finds available, immediately signaling for a waitress. They order beer and start drinking in silence, and soon he seems to unwind, losing his nervous edge, and they even manage to have a conversation about Waylon Jennings’ 70s transition from dapper genteel cowboy to scruffy, brash outlaw without barking at each other.

Vic is saying, “He peaked right after he changed his looks, nothing tops Dreaming My Dreams,” he starts singing quietly, “I’ve been a fool, I’ve been a fool, forgiving you each time that you’ve done me wrong…”

Eddie makes a dismissive gesture, “Yeah, but what about Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town? That’s a country classic.

“Yeah, but that Nashville sound shit is so impersonal, he was just doing what everybody else was doing. The other stuff is raw and unique, he’s singing about his struggles in life” he tries to take a swig of his beer before realizing it’s empty, “He looked hotter in the sixties, though… when he sang Your love scares me to death girl, it’s the chokin’ kind…,” he purrs, and gives Eddie a wink.

Just then the bar’s band wraps up a song, and after a brief applause the singer starts crooning and strumming his guitar, “The only two things in life that make it worth livin’…”

Eddie chuckles, “Well, speaking of the devil.”

Eddie’s laughter and the stupid conversation makes Vic remember how much he missed having fun with him while he was in jail, and suddenly he doesn’t care too much about whatever crap he was hiding anymore; it was probably just Eddie’s usual bullshit, he must have been caught cheating at cards or something like that. And Vic’s been giving him shit all night for it. He looks up Eddie sideways, smiling smugly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?” he could swear he sees Eddie blushing a little, but maybe that’s just the beer.

“What am I, your girlfriend?” Eddie says with exaggerated offence, and Vic tilts his head and scratches his brow like he’s seriously considering the question. Eddie huffs, “Nah, you go.”

“Your loss,” Vic grins and stands up and moves toward the dance floor with swaggering steps.

Vic dances alone for the duration of half a song until a young redheaded girl in a denim skirt approaches him with a grin.

“Hey stranger, you wanna dance?” she has a chirpy voice and a soft southern accent. Vic offers her his hand and his most charming smile.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

She takes his hand and places the other on his shoulder, coming nearer but not quite touching him; Vic doesn’t close the distance but rests his arm around her waist when they start moving to the music.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Vic is a head taller than her, so he has to tilt down his head to look at her eyes.

“Is it obvious?” She’s the kind of girl that smiles with her whole face and voice, and she’s cute, too, but Vic doesn’t really care about it, he’s just dancing with her to make Eddie a bit jealous.

“I’m from Kentucky,“ she continues, "but I moved out here because I wanna be an actress.”

He shoots a glance at their table and can’t repress a smile; Eddie is looking at him with an angry expression, mindlessly turning one of his golden rings in his finger. Just as he wanted.

Vic turns his full attention to the girl again, “An actress, huh? How’s that working out for you?” If he’s gonna make Eddie jealous at least he’s gonna enjoy himself.

They dance around for a couple of songs, talking about the weather in Lexington and the traffic in LA, until Vic looks up again to watch Eddie. But he’s not looking back; instead, he’s sitting on the edge of his seat with a tense stance, looking at the man sitting by his side and trying to put as much distance as possible between them. Vic furrows his brows and lets go of the girls hands without peeling his eyes from the table.

“‘M sorry, sweetie, my friend’s calling me.” He doesn’t see the disappointed look on the girls face, but hears her voice as he walks away.

“Oh, well… okay, it was nice meeting ya’.”

He circles tables and shoves people out of his way with his eyes fixed on Eddie and his companion. He seems like a really big man even seated, bigger than Vic, with broad shoulders and hairy arms resting on top of the table. His cowboy hat keeps his face in the shadows so Vic hasn’t yet seen his face when he stands near the table, interrupting whatever the man was whispering to Eddie.

“I don’t think I know you.”

Eddie looks up alarmed, eyes wide and face twisted with something very close to fear. Vic squints his eyes, confused, and then he looks at the man for the first time. He’s got a broad face, with a dimple on the chin, high cheekbones and a perfectly straight, pointy nose; his eyes are dark as the curly strand of hair that falls from under the hat in the middle of his forehead. He is handsome, and that makes Vic’s gut squirm with anger.

The man chews on a gum slowly, giving Vic a disinterested look up and down before speaking up, "I don’t think I know you.”

Vic chuckles like he finds the answer remotely funny, but he won’t be intimidated by some rowdy rancher. The stranger keeps a straight face.

“I’ll rephrase…,” Vic says, “who the fuck are you?”

Now the man does laugh, a low chuckle as he swings his arm up and around Eddie, resting his hand on his shoulder. “I’m a friend of Eddie’s. Sal’s the name.”

Vic shoots up his brows in surprise at the friendly gesture. He wants to know exactly what the fuck is up with this guy and his eyes go to Eddie in search for an answer, but Eddie’s just standing still, paralyzed and shooting nervous glances between Vic and Sal.

Vic gives the guy a friendly smile now, “Well, Sal, me and Eddie were having a good night, so why don’t you go fuck off,” he makes a swiping gesture with a hand and widens his grin.

“Vic-,” Eddie makes an attempt to intervene but Sal interrupts him.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” The man reclines his chair back, balancing himself in the back legs with a smug grin on his face and looking like an absolute asshole, “You see, Eddie and I have been very good friends for… what, two years now?” Vic’s muscles tense listening to him, but he lets Sal continue speaking. “And I’ve never seen you so I think you’re the one who should split.” He draws up his thumb from Eddie’s shoulder to stroke his face, which prompts a cringe from him.

"Don’t fucking touch me,” Eddie snarls.

“Now Eddie,” Sal clicks his tongue and uses a chastising tone, “you weren’t saying that the last time I saw you.”

And that does it for Vic, who falls down into a chair next to the man and with a smooth motion grabs him by the collar and gets really close. With his other hand he pulls up the leg of his jeans, trying to draw his blade out of his boot.

“Buddy, if you don’t let go of him right now I will-” he feels a sharp pressure on his stomach and recognizes the shape of a gun’s barrel. His reacts with a surprised laughter, but even he can tell when the odds are really tipping against him, so he opens his left hand to let go of the cuff oh his pants..

“C'mon pal, I don’t think there’s anything that interesting down your boot. Hands where I can see ‘em.”

Vic clicks his tongue and obliges, releasing his collar and drawing up both palms slowly over the table. Sal takes the opportunity to bring Eddie closer and stand up, forcing the other man to get up with him. Vic doesn’t miss a beat and gets on his feet too, hands still up, pressing his chest forward into the gun with a smile on his face. Sal stands tall and strong, a few inches over him, big enough to scare anybody with a hint of common sense. But Vic doesn’t scare easy.

“If you take one single step I’ll break your neck,” he threatens calmly.

Sal’s face hardens as he tightens his grip on the gun, “I don’t think you wanna play this game, pal.”

“Oh, I wanna play,” Vic speaks slowly, “You wanna shoot me?” he points at his own chest with his hands, amused, “C'mon, tough cowboy, shoot me.”

“Vic…” Eddie starts speaking.

“Shut up Eddie,” Vic doesn’t need Eddie getting in the way, the whole fucking point of this is to get this guy away from him, “you, why don’t you pull the trigger if you’re such a tough boy, huh?”

“Vic, fucking stop it.” Eddie’s hurls through closed teeth; Vic can see his face starting to redden from the tension and anger bubbling up in him, but Sal still has an arm around his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

“Cmon.” Vic spurs again, speaking lower and pressing forward, and for a moment he thinks he might have to start throwing punches to get a reaction from the man, but Sal seems to be thinking better of it already; starts releasing the pressure from the gun, drawing it backwards slowly to place it in his hip holster again.

Vic grins, tilting his face up with arrogance, “That’s what I thought…”

The hand around Eddie’s shoulder relaxes, and Sal takes a slow step back as he squints, “I’ll be seeing you, Vic…”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

The man walks backwards slowly, keeping his eyes on Vic until he disappears among the people of the bar.

Vic exhales slowly, distensing his body for the first time in a while. He isn’t sure what the hell just happened, but he knows two things: he wants to kill this Sal guy, and he is very, very pissed at Eddie. He turns to glare at him with eyes cold and angry; unlike himself, Eddie has not relaxed at all.

“Vic…”

“Now who the fuck was that?“

"Vic, I can…”

“Let’s get out of here.” Vic starts circling the table toward Eddie as he gets a few crumpled bills from his pocket, throws them among the beer bottles without trying to count them, then he grabs Eddie by the arm and starts walking fast toward the door.

“Hey!” Eddie yanks his hand away hard, but still matches Vic’s walking pace. “I swear to fucking God, if someone else grabs me again tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Vic turns to confront Eddie, crowding him, but he still speaks slowly “Is there someone else who’s gonna come take you for a dance, huh? Any other guys I oughta know about?” Vic chest feels like it’s on fire, and he thinks if Eddie gives him any more shit it might be his breaking point tonight.

But Eddie looks back at him like he’s gonna start shooting sparks out of his eyes any moment, “You know very damn well that’s not what I meant, you fucking nutcase,” he walks around Vic out the door and Vic follows behind.

Eddie crosses the parking lot in a few long paces and gets immediately in the passenger seat of the car, closing the door. Vic could get in the car, drive away and act as if that guy didn’t just threaten to kill him and got away with it; it’s probably the best thing he could do, considering he’s still on parole. But he doesn’t move toward the car’s door, instead, he approaches Eddie’s window and gives the glass a light tap. Eddie rolls his eyes as he rolls down the glass.

“What?!”

Vic perches himself on the window, points at Eddie with his finger, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t bring a knife to a gunfight’, you moron?” Eddie’s squinting his eyes like he can’t believe Vic would be so stupid, but he doesn’t take offence, “Get back in the car!”

Vic is already standing up and walking toward the bar.

As soon as he gets in he starts scanning the place methodically, with a sharp look on his eyes as he walks along one wall so he never loses sight of the whole room; the guy is nowhere to be found. He makes his way to the bathrooms and inspects them too, with no luck. He closes a fist in frustration before walking back outside. When the chill night air hits him he takes a slow breath, brings his arms to his hips and gives the parking lot a glance, too; maybe the idiot is staying behind in his car waiting for Vic to break his face.

When Vic sees him he can’t believe his eyes. Sal is perching over Vic’s own Cadillac’s window, his hat hanging from his neck and thrown over his upper back, in the same posture Vic was not five minutes ago, speaking with Eddie and giving his back to the bar’s door. He might be big and good looking, Vic thinks, but the man sure ain’t the sharpest fella.

Vic approaches slowly from behind, stealthily, and when he’s close enough he brings his right hand back, taking impulse for a moment before swinging it forward with full force and an open palm towards Sal’s head; as soon as he comes in contact he grabs the hair and shoves him face first towards the car door. The knock of metal against forehead makes a loud thud.

“Shit!” Eddie pulls back, taken by surprise.

Vic uses the moment of confusion to take Sal’s gun from his holster, then stands back and throws it toward one end of the parking lot over the roofs of the cars; when he turns back around Sal’s already recovering, left fist up in front of his face while he swings the right. A cold punch lands on Vic’s jaw, another on his sternum. He stagers back for a moment, struggling to breath, but regains his balance quickly. He lets out a sigh and grins.

“So you can hit too, huh?”

He takes one step back to gain momentum, then throws himself with full force toward Sal’s waist, knocking him on his back with Vic on top of him. He scrambles up, grabs the man’s hair again and yanks upward, then back down, hitting the crown of his head against the hard pavement. He does it again. Sal grabs his shirt and pushes back, trying to get him off, but Vic’s got him pinned to the ground, resting his full weight on his ribs, the man almost unable to breath. Vic lets go of his hair and throws a punch to the eye, the jaw, the nose, starting to breath heavily himself. For the first time, he’s vaguely aware of Eddie’s amused howling and laughing through the car’s window.

“Heh, he sure didn’t see that comin’,” he taps the door of the car with a pleased grin, “Cmon, that’s enough, you’re gonna kill him.”

But Vic hasn’t had enough. He reaches for the razor in his boot, panting slightly from the strain of the fight, and opens it carefully, then brings the blade to the man’s face, resting it flat on his cheek. Sal’s face is smeared with blood from his nose and the open cuts in his brown and cheek, and he is gasping for air. Vic moves his face closer, his lips almost touching the other’s ear, and he whispers.

“If I ever see you again I’m gonna give your pretty face a fix-up,” he tilts his face sightly sideway to look him in the eye, “You want that, huh?”

Sal shakes his head faintly, keeping his eyes on Vic’s, but he doesn’t speak.

“Yeah, ’s what a thought.” He gives him a last grin and finally gets up, brushing one hand back through his messed up hair; with the other he closes the blade by pressing the blunt edge against one leg.

He walks around the car and gets in the driver’s seat, immediately puts in the key and starts the ignition, then maneuvers out of the parking lot without giving even one last glance to the man still lying on the pavement. Eddie’s giggling dies away as he sees Vic’s livid expression, and Vic’s glad because he doesn’t want Eddie to think for a moment that he’s off the hook.

“You have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

“Yeah, I guess I do, huh…”

As they drive back to the house Vic steals a glance to his right; even in the darkness of the road he can make out the younger man’s frown, his lower lip between his teeth. Vic wonders if Eddie missed him too.

***

1. yes they did have hot angry sex later.

2. also in case you read my posts where i detail my writing struggles yes Rock Hudson was my reference for Sal

3. Songs in the fic:

Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain by Willie Nelson

I’ve Been A Long Time Leaving (But I’ll Be A Long Time Gone) by Waylon Jennings

The Chokin’ Kind by Waylon Jennings

Luckenbach, Texas (Back To The Basics Of Love) by Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson

title of the fic comes Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads

[lit-works]

More Untitled Daredevil fanfic. Pt.4, i think?

I have no idea what time it is when i return to the apartment. My muscles ache and all i can think about is collapsing in bed, leaving my costume on.

I awaken sometime the next day to the clatter of garbage truck hydraulics and cans being tossed cavalierly on the sidewalk. The apartment is empty, i guess that it's nearly noon.

It's not the first time I've missed the morning. I smell coffee in the kitchen, made fresh hours ago. After a quick shower, where i discover a few scrapes and bruises i didn't know i had, i get dressed. I toss my spare costume into my attache case--it may be a while before i get back to the apartment.

By the time i make it to the drop-in center, Karen is already having lunch. To my surprise, Foggy Nelson is with her.

"Nice to see you up at last." Karen says.

"Hi, Matt," Foggy adds, his voice tentative. Once we were best friends--partners. But Foggy made it clear which side he stood on concerning my current legal status.

"Good to see you, Foggy." i say, walking over to my desk.

"Matt, Foggy says that subpoena--" I hold up my hand.

"I don't want any lectures about the injunction. Not today. Not--"

"Matt," Foggy says, "This is something you can't ignore. They'll drag you into court, cite you for contempt--"

I stand up. "Don't quote the law to me, Foggy. The law is one thing. This," i snap, picking up the crumpled subpoena from where it sat the day before. "Is harassment, and here's where it belongs." i toss it into the corner, and it bounces to the floor next to the trash can.

I sense Foggy turn to Karen. They're closer now. Closer than ever before. They both think I'm out of control.

"I tried, Karen," he says, and walks out of the door with Karen following. She returns, exasperated.

"That was clever. Why don't you just alienate anyone who's ever tried to help you?"

"I suppose you'd like me to just give up? Walk right out of here, too? Spend years trying to clear my name--"

She walks over to the small laptop on her desk. "You'd better listen to this. It was on the news this morning."

"Why? What is...?"

"This city cannot--must not--become a breeding ground for vigilante groups of any stripe, costumed or not--"

Alex Wriley, a young, rich candidate for mayor. Running on a platform that includes shipping every costumed crime-fighter to Lower Slobovia or the Negative Zone. And he's doing real well with the voters, real well.

"--streets to be safe, under the protection of a properly trained and armed law enforcement department."

"Doesn't he know we work with them, for Chris'sake?! What's--"

"Wait," Karen says, "It gets worse."

His speech over, Wriley takes questions from the reporters.

"Mister Wriley, what about last night's reports that the Daredevil was seen fleeing a burning building? There are rumors of an extortion racket to get special protection."

I almost feel Wriley gloating.

"Precisely my point. Is Daredevil working for the side of the law and order, or is he just another freelance thug? Hands open to the highest bidder? I think my campaign will find the truth!" Karen clicks off the video.

"That lousy--"

"Matt, you're going to have to be careful. This Wriley is after you. He's got money. He's powerful."

I start to explain to Karen about the trap--but hold my tongue. There'll be time for talking later, when i know what's really going on.

"Right," i say, "Now, how about a trip to Staten island? Can Martin hold down the fort?"

Martin, my all-purpose file clerk, secretary, and hot-shot investigator is dealing with a crowd of people out front.

"Sure, he'll moan and groan, but love it."

"You can drive," i say smiling. "I could use another forty winks."

The ride is quiet, almost serene, and I'm glad when we reach the Nature Preserve.

"So peaceful," i say, stepping out of the car. "Hardly a breeze. I can pick up gull sounds from the shore. Smells pretty nice, too."

Karen takes my hand. "The factory is over here, over that hill."

I turn, straining to pick up anything unusual.

"Seems empty. Shall we go closer?" i ask.

"Sure, let's drive..."

"No." i give her hand a squeeze. "Let's walk. There's a path ahead. Some kind of opening."

"Yes, but--"

"I don't want to announce our arrival." I pull her along, leaving behind the gently wooded area of the nature preserve, following a makeshift trail up a scruffy hill.

"God," Karen says. "What a mess!"

I can make out the rough outline of the buildings, some gutted, some intact, a few completely gone, leaving only empty, gaping foundations.

"Must be an ugly sight." i say. Then i smell it. Something foul, noxious. It seems to scar my nostrils and burn as it enters my lungs. "There's something wrong here."

Then i hear the sound if a truck entering the property from a distance.

"Someone's coming." Karen says.

Above the roar of the truck, i sense three people, their heartbeats, the rhythm of their breathing. One of them is, yes, familiar. It's quite clear, in fact, that i met him last night--and he got away from me. That won't happen again.

"Can you see where they're headed?" i ask Karen.

"To one of the buildings, one that looks fairly intact."

"Then that's where we're headed."

Karen grabs my arm. "Matt, shouldn't we call the police and let--"

"Let them what? We're trespassing as it is, Karen. The only evidence we've got is a little old lady and my radioactive nostrils. If you want to help change the situation, then we have to see what's going on."

She nods, and i sense her trust, her faith in me, lapsing. Just another battle I'll have to fight to win back her confidence--her love.

The back of the building abuts the river. I hear the water moving back and forth, splashing onto the sharp rocks.

"Do you hear anything?" karen asks.

"Yeah, lots. There are voices, machinery, and--"

"There's a window, Matt. Hoist me up?"

"My pleasure." i reach down and pick up Karen, quickly raising her to look inside.

"A bit higher."

"I can't fly, Karen."

"That's good. I can...oh, Matt! This is terrible. This is..."

"What's the big piece of machinery, Karen? It's growing louder."

"It's digging into the ground, and there are stacks of barrels ready to be rolled into the hole. Matt, she was right, she--"

I turn, picking up the faintest footfall coming around the corner of the building. I lower Karen and try to get ready.

"Matt, what the--"

But behind me there's another sound, and i find myself between two thugs.

I might be out if costume, but I'm not about to let that slow me down. With a speed that startled the two goons, i send my hands out, using precision moves that are made possible only by boxer's reflexes.

Perfect shot--if smashing another humans jaw could ever be described that way.

Lately, i winder whether Karen is right, thinking that i like the violence...need it.

I catch the goon at my left on the chin, and he flies backward, cartoon-style. With time to spare, i cuff the other on the side of the face. Not hard enough to knock him out, but with plenty of force to send him tumbling to the ground.

Now, to just find out who these lovelies work for.

The air is suddenly filled with a high-pitch siren.

"What is it?" Karen asks.

Then i sense the two guards scrambling to their feet, running away.

"I've got to catch up to them." i say.

Karen holds me back, trying to keep me from the danger she now fears i live for.

I pull away, turn and begin running.

The sandy ground offers little support for my feet, especially when I'm wearing my clod-hopper city shoes. If only there were time to change into my costume.

The truck is already moving down the road and the two guys who attacked me climb onto the back as it pulls away. I run as fast as i can, ignoring the growing oxygen debt in my body, until it seems as if a successful leap might send me onto the back of the truck.

Despite the inelegance of my leap, I'm amazed to find that my hands close around the back panel of the truck. With one kick, i climb over.

"Hi, boys. Mind if i catch a ride?" the two thugs seem disturbed by my appearance.

"What's with the glasses--are you blind?"

"Why, are you making faces at me?" I reply.

I hear them separate, slowly moving towards the front of the truck, then they come at me. I crouch, ready to dispose of them quickly, when the truck suddenly barrels over a curb. Sending me crashing into the side wall.

Then they're on me, eager to take advantage of their lucky break. One of them closes his hand firmly around my windpipe, while the other digs into his back pocket for something.

No time for fooling around.

The truck lurched to the left--the driver doesn't seem concerned about what he's driving over. His two accomplices are jostled by the bump, and i move quickly to grab both of them, placing them in simple but effective headlocks. I squeeze just enough to let them know i might be stronger than they imagine.

"Ow." one of them yelps over the truck's engine.

"Where's this heap headed?" I yell. "Come on, guys, let's make this easy."

A small window leading to the cabin opens, and a pudgy face with pinholes for eyes looks back at me.

Then, suddenly, the entire floor of the truck flips upwards, like some kind of garbage truck. That's what it is, hauling toxic waste and dumping it where no one can see. No, no one would ever know about it until it's too late.

The three of us start sliding backwards. I let go of the thugs, but not in time to grab on and stop my fall out of the truck. I land on my feet, while the two henchmen tumble awkwardly in the sand. When they stand up, i grab them by their collars.

"I hate to get unfriendly again. Now, tell me where that truck is going."

They look at each other, then one of them begins jabbering away. "It's heading--" but he doesn't finish his sentence. He screams and the other one joins on, both of them reaching for the backs of their heads, before crumpling into the sand.

I kneel, trying to sense their heartbeats, their breathing, but get nothing.

Karen runs over to me, "Are they...?"

"Dead."

"But how? You didn't do anything?"

I feel behind one of the men's necks, find a small protrusion, and pull it out.

"Here it is." i say, handing the small device to Karen. "Radio operated, I guess. Guaranteed to keep people in line. Nasty, very nasty."

"But who'd use such a device?"

"Someone big, powerful, and unless I'm wrong, new to this town."

"Well, I've got the license plate number, we'll call the police and--"

I put my hand in Karen's shoulder. "You'll call the police. Later. After you've taken me to Brooklyn."

[expensivechimchim]

Seesaw Chapter 2

Before you read- Warnings: cursing, mentions of cannibalism.

    The walk to the city has been torturous. It's been about four hours since we've started walking and all Yoongi and I have eaten today was a granola bar each. Who can blame us though? Finding food in the apocalypse was almost impossible.     Soon enough, we come across a small clearing in the woods where people may have used as a campsite before the world went to shit.     "Let's stop here, (Y/N)," Yoongi says. "We both need some rest."     "And food. I don't think I can walk anymore if I don't eat anything anytime soon."     "Here- take this." He passes me a water bottle filled to the top.     I then drink half of it then pass it back to him so that he could have the rest. Sharing is caring, right? Placing our backpacks down, we settle on a log and sit in silence while we eat our last two, stale cliff bars.     "Looks like we will need to search some houses for more food later," Yoongi says, more to himself than me.     Dozing off, I begin to look around the forest we are in. There're only a few birds left flying around and a couple of squirrels jumping from tree to tree. Some dandelions scattered here and there and tiger lillies sprouting from the ground. I'm glad to see that there are still some beautiful things left in the world.     Suddenly, I hear a twig snap. I quickly turn my head towards the sound hoping to God that it's just an animal.     It wasn't an animal.     A deep chuckle sounded from behind the tree I was looking past, startling Yoongi and I. We stand up and Yoongi stands in front of me and puts his arm out as an attempt at protecting me.     Three living men then come around from behind the tree wielding pistols. These men were tall, maybe around 6'5ft and they were built. Even if we tried, Yoongi and I didn't stand a chance. "Give us the lady, and you won't get hurt lil' man," one of the tall scruffy looking men demanded as he stepped forward. "I'd never give someone over to people like you- I know who you are and what you people do!" Yoongi yelled, actually looking just a little scared for once instead of his usual cold exterior. I'm surprised, really. I thought Yoongi would just give me away to them. "Now, now," one of the men says walking forward with a pistol pointed to us with one hand and a butcher knife in the other, "this could be done the easy way, or the hard way. And I don't think you want to experience the hard way."     Yoongi tenses next to me, "(Y/N)," he whispers to me. "You need to run- I'll catch up with you just run."     "No I'm not going to leave you! You won't stand a chance against these peo-"     Before I can even finish, the both of us get knocked over the head by two of the three men with the butt of their guns. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~     Waking up tied to a chair next to Yoongi in a dark room that smelled like moldy cheese and dirty laundry is not how I wanted to wake up.     The place is creepy, to say the least. A dim room with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling to provide a little light, while blood stains practically covered the concrete floor. To top it off, the walls were wooden and mold was growing on them, perhaps providing the awful smell.     I then start hyperventilating out of fear, not realizing that Yoongi is starting to awake as well.     "(Y/N)? Oh thank god you're okay..."     "Where are we?" I whimper out.     "(Y/N) these people are cannibals, that's why I was in such a rush to get to the safe zone when I first met you," he breathed out. "It's because I knew they were following me..."     I'm shocked; Yoongi actually endangered me when he promised he was someone who could be trusted.     "Yoongi I can't believe you lied to me. How come you never told me this?"     "I knew you wouldn't come with me if I did tell you. I didn't think they would actually catch up with us."     "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I don't want to die."     "I won't let you die, I'll get us out of here. I started this, now let me figure out how to finish it, okay?"     "Okay," I say, unsure.     We don't have anymore time to converse when the door slams open, revealing a man with his face covered by a big white mask. The mask has six small holes in it for breathing and a few drops of red on it, probably from blood. The man is hooded, and he seems to be holding a leash with a Great Dane on the end. How ever he got a dog in the apocalypse is beyond me.     "I'm sure you know why you're here, huh?" The man spits, mainly looking towards Yoongi.     "Yeah, you're planning on eating us," Yoongi says looking absolutely disgusted. "You're just a bunch of cowards who can't go look for actual food and have to feed off of a bunch of humans. You're all just as bad as the infected.     "You're wrong, Yoongi," he says, licking his lips while staring at me. "We're planning on eating the girl for dinner and making you join our team."     I shivered and Yoongi soon takes notice of how terrified I am. He angles his head in an attempt to whisper in my ear, "don't worry, (Y/N), I'll get us out of here." The man stalks forward and grabs me by my hair making me groan in pain. He takes the off the ropes that are binding me to the chair and pulls me off, quickly using the same rope to tie my hands behind my back. The dog then jumps on me, biting at my arms and my torso as I bite my lip, holding in my screams. "Don't touch her!" Yoongi growls at him. "Seems like there's nothing you can do about that, twerp," says the man as he pulls at my hair even harder, making me squirm. I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to not scream so that it doesn't satisfy him.      The man pushes me to the floor and drags me out the door. I strain my neck to look behind me, and when I do, I see Yoongi struggling at his binds. "Fuck," Yoongi grunts out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I seem to have lost track of time. By now, it could have been hours, or maybe even days since I was placed in this room by myself. The room was practically a meat locker, with a pile of shoes on the floor in the left corner and a long, metal table at the center of the room. Hanging from the ceiling are pieces of meat from- I don't even want to think about what it is. I'm now worried about what happened to Yoongi when I was taken away. It may not seem like it, but I've grown a small liking for the blonde haired man. Just as I finish that thought, I hear footsteps coming towards the room from the other side of the steel door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~Yoongi's POV~ "Shit," I curse as I pull at the ropes binding me to the wooden chair. How could I have let this happen? I should've just left (Y/N) back when I met her, that way she wouldn't be in danger. A knock on the door sounded, echoing throughout the almost empty room. A woman walks in, swaying her hips from side to side in a disgusting way. Stopping in front of me and looking down, she lets out a sickening cackle. "Hello, baby boy," she lets out. I almost gagged from that simple sentence. Not only was what she was insinuating disgusting, but her breath alone was absolutely revolting. "Where's (Y/N)?" I thought I'd ask the most important question instead of asking 'where am I?' or 'who are you?'. "Yoongi, we want you on our team, honey," she says, trying to sound enticing. "And we won't stop until you agree. You're perfect for the job, and perfect for me." She strokes my cheek with her filthy hand. "There's no way I'd ever join you! You people kill innocent people, and for what? You eat them..." "But Yoongi that's all part of the plan." "What plan?" I think to myself. "Survival of the fittest, natural selection, etcetera..." I must've said that out loud... "You are one of the most physically fit people we have encountered so far so you're perfect for our team, but you're little friend," she paused. "She seems to get in the way which I guess is perfect for us." "How the fuck is that perfect?" I spit out. There's a long pause. "Well she's a female, and women happen to be the most delicious."