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Apr. 19th, 2025 at 7:28 PM
[A few hours of open road makes for easygoing fun. It's great to be traveling again, and the feeling of Chrissy leaning up against his back, holding on tight while he whips ahead on a wide-open freeway through the pitch black of night is like nothing else. The last time they were racing up and down this freeway, they were on the way to go burn a bunch of people's lives down - but now that's hours back, back with the rest of the city. They've left the lights and have nothing to look at but the pavement in Johnnie's headlight, the glimpses of stars shining weakly through hazy clouds, and occasionally an oncoming car.
Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.
But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]
Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.
[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]
Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.
But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]
Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.
[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]
Comments
[And the reassurance keeps him from dousing Dale in the last mouthful of beer he's been left with, also. He laughs as he finishes it off, causing some to spill from the side of his mouth and onto his chest. Whoops. Feels nice and cold, though, and he needs that right now.
When Dale comes back with the last one, Rigo swipes it and just presses it first straight to his forehead. And then he starts to try to ask something, but he's just so damn high he forgets the question before it leaves his mouth. Oh well. Maybe it's a sign to just crack that beer open and drink the delicious cold right into him.]
Mm. Hey, have you heard from Jet or Tomás lately?
[He's too high to have a serious conversation probably, but he does miss those guys and still hasn't seen them since he got back. Would be pretty fucked up if they wound up in prison but it's just one of those things that happens sometimes.]
Nah.
[Oh.
Okay so that was easy, a one word response sometimes speaks volumes. Then again, Rigo's only been back...however long he's been back. He probably doesn't know.]
Fuck. [His head lifts, and his eyes drift over to watch white people dancing on TV.]
Jet's locked up. [His eyes glance over to Rigo to try and catch his reaction.] County.
[Looking back to the TV then, and he taps out the beat to the song that's playing on his leg.]
Tomás too. [They're good guys. Every time he hears one of theirs is killed or put in jail or worse, he feels the loss. Hell, sometimes he feels personally responsible. He doesn't in either of these cases, but it's still a fucking downer to talk about.]
Haven't heard from either of them since they went in.
Well, so it goes.]
Fuck.
["So it goes" doesn't make it any less awful, of course. Those guys are good. He misses Jet's races, misses Tomás' stupid bravado. But jail is better than dead, at least. They'll find their way back if they can.
He's quiet for a moment after that, just working at his beer and idly watching the dancers on screen. There's a Black couple in there, actually, and they're damn good too.]
See, there's hope for us all yet.
[Rigo says as he gestures with his bottle and a chuckle.]
All that responsibility is a weight he proudly carries, but it can really drag him down when he lets it. Rigo keeps things lighter. Those smiles where he sets aside his bravado and is just his real self seem to be happening more and more lately.
Yeah, he's not examining that too closely. Figuring out what that means still scares the hell out of him.]
You think they'd let two guys like us on there?
[Does he mean just two brown kids from the wrong part of town going to dance with girls they find for the night, or does he mean the two of them specifically dancing together on the program for everyone to see? He keeps it intentionally vague, trying to imagine a world where it's acceptable for two men to dance together on TV like they don't have a fucking care in the world and they belong there.]
[He says it lightly enough, like it's funny, and it sort of is. Two guys? Never. If they let Black kids on there maybe they'll let any color, but two guys dancing together, no chance.]
And if they did, we'd get pelted with rocks on our way out the door. Not worth it. But...
[With a cheeky little grin, he lifts Dale's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.]
We could each have a girl and be making eyes at each other across the stage instead. Might make the actual dancing part hard, though. Guess I'll stick to watching your ass from behind my drum set.
The things Rigo does to him aren't even funny. They're making his stomach do this weird ass fluttering thing, and he's pretty sure his heart is skipping beats and when the fuck did he become a girl about all of this?
He licks at his lips after that kiss to his knuckles, and his eyes go from Rigo's perfect lips to his hand, then back up to Rigo's face. He's just about to say something sentimental and probably romantic when he hears his ass will just have to be admired, and he snorts with laughter as he turns his hand so their fingers are better twined together. He's able to tug Rigo in toward him for a kiss that for once isn't in any hurry at all.
There's no pressing need to do anything more, no need to fuck. Just kissing for the sake of it, because it feels good. His free hand presses to Rigo's cheek, and for a few seconds his eyes close and he enjoys this kind of intimacy because it's so rare for him to get to have.]
Guess I'll wear tighter pants next time so you can really appreciate it.
[Being a smart ass isn't off limits apparently.]
Who needs to be on TV dancing anyway? That's shit white people want. We can dance all we want right here.
[But yeah, he's not getting up to do that. Because his lips are seeking out Rigo's again, because why not? They're high and have nothing better to do than indulge in each other.]
When he has to come up for air, he lingers there anyway, settling his forehead against Dale's as he takes a breath.]
I'm too high to dance right now.
[Just in case Dale needed to know. It's one of those thoughts that's just spoken as soon as it arrives, and as soon as he hears himself say it it makes him laugh.]
I'd be dancing like I have five feet all trying to trip each other at once.
We're too high to do anything right now.
[Which is exactly why making out is perfect. There's touching and kissing and neither of them are coordinated to make it amazing but are high enough to like it anyway.
After a few more minutes he needs to catch his breath, and their foreheads press together to enjoy a rare moment of silence.]
I gotta head out on a job Alex needs done soon though.
[Soon? He isn't sure if that means hours or minutes or what. He probably needs to remember exact details so he doesn't let his brother down. But right now, it just doesn't feel important.]
[Well, in theory. Right now he's not sure he has any functional ones. He has a look at one of his hands like he needs to make sure it's still there, and wiggles his fingers.]
Yeah. Still got them. You better not do a serious job if you're as high as you are, though. Quieres café?
[He gives Dale a peck of a playful kiss as he asks, then pulls himself up onto his feet with the help of the couch. Too high to dance, yeah, but surely he can figure out coffee. He wants some, or will eventually - even if Dale says no to him joining, he has plenty of other trouble to get up to.]
Órale -
[He slowly says the word, once again trying to be the man.
It sounds fucking stupid and he knows it, and he winds up laughing at himself and falling back to lean on the couch.]
Oh fuck. I need to get up.
[He needs to take a piss and go wash his face or something. He pushes himself up to his feet and heads toward the bathroom, stopping halfway down the hall when he remembers Rigo asked him something.]
Puedes ir conmigo.
[fucking smooth. He grins and turns to continue his shuffling to the bathroom, but once he gets there he remembers something else he wanted to say and sticks his head out of the doorway to call out.]
Quiero eso, compa!
Okay, okay! Go get your shit together.
[It's fucking endearing, though. And that's ridiculous. Dale being high as a kite shouldn't be so damn endearing, he's high as a kite half the damn time.
He gets the coffee pot ready and brewing, then slips into his room to drag some clothing on. They might share the same bed, but there's just no space in one set of drawers for two people's clothing. It's like a storage room now, almost - storage for all his shit. Vaguely surreal.
Getting dressed is awkward and a little silly while this high, though - he's too clumsy to get his socks on standing and has to sit on the edge of the bed. Oh well.]
Guess I better go get my shit together. Nice ass.
[He winks because why not, and then heads into his room that feels more like their room these days. Getting dressed is surprisingly quick, and he falls into bed to sprawl out as much as he can. His head feels like it might float up above the apartment and just stay up in the clouds. He needs a second to anchor himself back down on Earth.]
[That makes zero sense but also it makes complete sense according to the smoke in his brain, and he snickers to himself as he zips his pants up.
The coffee isn't ready yet, which is a real shame. Rigo can see Dale flopped over in bed over there, but joining him means never getting out of that bed and it sounds like that might result in Alex getting pretty ticked off at the both of them. And look, Rigo isn't exactly the type to piss off Alex if he can help it.
Instead, he sits himself up on the countertop, drumming his fingers to a tune in his head on the surface. That turns soon enough into lighting a cigarette, figuring maybe that will help kickstart his trip back to earth.
He's just snuffing it out as the coffee finishes dripping, so he drops back down to the floor to grab mugs from the mismatched set in the cupboard.]
Come get it!
Just what I needed, thanks.
[He grabs a mug out of Rigo's hand for himself, then thinks better and grabs the other as well. Both are filled, and he starts making Rigo's first, exactly how he knows he likes it. It's not domestic. It's not. It's just being a considerate partner or whatever the fuck he is.
Once that mug is passed over, he starts on his, and quickly starts drinking as much as he can without burning his mouth. It works pretty well to get his head to clear up some, and it isn't long before he's tapping a beat with his foot and is humming one of their songs.]
There's a group of kids just west of here that think they're gonna sell and we won't notice. Alex wants me to pay them a visit and send a message that they better rethink that choice.
[He forgot if they're selling drugs or cars or something else. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. They can't sell anything on the fringes of World Ender turf and get away with it. If Alex is wanting to be neighborly enough to send a cease and desist, they must be actual kids though.
Fuck, this would've been perfect for Johnnie to do. That little shit better be back soon.]
[Probably depends on how old they are and what they're selling. West of here means wherever they came from, they must think they can run back across the bridge before they're caught. Should be fun to show them how wrong they are.
Must be a serious message though, he decides before Dale responds. Hell, if Alex is sending Dale it has to be serious. Anyone can handle some preteens pushing pot. This must be big and serious enough that they're expecting actual resistance.]
He didn't say. Guess we'll find out when we get there what we're in the mood for. Clicks tried warning them a few weeks ago but they were stupid enough not to listen.
[Another shrug, and he makes an ahh sound before going back for a refill. More coffee is always a good thing.]
Anyway, after that he needs me to check on things up on Mt. Monroe. There's been signs of activity at Z'Oiseau's place.
[And needless to say, Alex thinks that's not great.]
What? Shit.
[Definitely calls for more coffee, pronto. He doesn't bother adding anything this time. This is about caffeine, not flavor. Shame it's so hot though, it's making him sweat just standing here given the summer warmth radiating through the apartment walls.]
What kind of activity? That asshole is dead. And you burned the place down, there's nothing left for the vultures to pick at.
[And they would have picked at it weeks ago. Months ago, before he came back. Any hope of finding some loose vide noir to pick up is long gone. No, Alex is right to be concerned.
But maybe it means they'll get to bust the heads of someone who's not just kids, and that always brightens his day.]
[Going into that without any real known details is a little risky, but he and Rigo can handle themselves. It'll be fine. He tips his mug toward Rigo as if to say they have things handled, then finishes things off and puts his mug in the sink. After a good stretch with his arms above his head he sets off in search of his keys.
He's pretty sure he threw them somewhere in the living room when they stepped inside the apartment, because they were so focused on fucking he couldn't be bothered to put them somewhere practical. Sure enough, he finds them beneath the shirt Rigo was wearing earlier. He laughs as he tosses the shirt back down to the floor.]
We gotta clean up in here sometime. Our clothes are all over the place.
Well, when Rigo is done drooling and trying not to get an awkward half-boner, he ditches his empty mug on the counter and sweeps off to grab his jacket and weapons. He's strapped these days with how they keep acquiring things from other gangs who continue to try and up the lethality, but it hasn't stopped him from packing a knife and his trusty manopla. Those never jam or run out of bullets.]
Don't they call that home decorating?
[With a grin, he picks up one of the empty beer cans - not to discard it, no, but to stack it on top of the TV. Decor, see? Bachelor decor. Or... whatever they are.]
Listo. Let's go kick some kids around.
Yeah, you've got a real decorator's touch.
[That beer can gets knocked off, and he cheers for himself as it clatters to the floor. It's kid shit. Ridiculous and fun. He's laughing as they let themselves out, lock up, and make their way downstairs to their bikes. They head out as a pack of two, ready for trouble and a good time.
As it usually is now, reckless driving is like flirting. They weave through traffic and attempt to race and best one another all the way across town, up until Dale pulls into the parking lot of a grocery store. It has to be kids that are selling in a pathetic ass place like this.
They don't have to wait longer than a couple of minutes before a car drives up. It's full of guys that can't be older than Johnnie, who at first look confident and ready for a sale but then spy their jackets and get real quiet and wide eyed.]
Evening, boys. Hope you're not looking to turn a sale.
[None of the guys in the car speak but all glance to one another. Dale glances over at Dale with a roll of his eyes.]
Last I heard, we told you to cut that shit out.
[The driver realizes someone has to say something and tries smoothing this over.]
I don't think we've met.
[Dale snorts, and puts his hand down on the open window in a manner that is distinctly threatening.]
Shut the fuck up, kid. That lady that tried warning you? She's with us. We know everything.
[Do they really?
No.
But these guys look like they might piss themselves at any second which is great.]
He settles comfortably on his bike, but he's ready to move at a moment's notice. Good thing, too, because of course, what do a car full of fucking children do when they realize they've been had? They floor it and try to flee. In reverse, first, without looking closely - and they back into a lamp post because of it, breaking a tail light.
Rigo laughs, and it turns into a howl as he starts the bike engine right up.]
Aw, you broke daddy's car! Now watcha gonna do? Run like little baby cowards?
[Running them off will be easy. Convincing them to really not come back takes more effort or they'll just try this again and hope they don't get caught for at least long enough to make a few bucks. So Rigo takes chase as those idiot kids swerve onto the street, and pulls out the pistol he'd picked up in their last major battle. Honestly, he hasn't even tried it yet, and target practice on tires is a great excuse to do so.
The first shot goes wide, but judging by the scream of terror from that car, these kids might have just realized the shit they got themselves into.]
The guys inside shout and he grins at them, ramped up on their fear. The thrill of scaring them more has him punching harder, and this time the glass shatters. The idiot behind the wheel loses control of the car as he panics, and Dale eases on the brakes.]
Outta the way!
[He calls out to Rigo, but doesn't worry too much. The guy's good at reacting. He'll avoid being hit by car.
Probably.
Said car goes up over a curb and knocks over a newspaper dispenser, and keeps going until it crashes into a light post.]
Smells like piss, compa, they fucking wet themselves in there! Poor little babies!
[He can't smell anything other than fuel and hot metal but it's funny to continue to make fun of the idiots who thought they could get away with this. Besides, he's probably not wrong.
The impact against the lamp post wasn't that hard, but it still did enough to crumple the front of the car and knock the kids inside around a little, delaying any further attempt to escape while they get their bearings. One manages to open his door and spill out onto the pavement sooner than the rest, then makes a run for it. Rigo lets him go, not really caring that much to chase just the one kid, but he pulls up to the car's right side to block an easy escape route for anyone else who might try the same thing.
And they are going to try the same thing. The driver is the farthest from him but also the slowest to react, and his friend in shotgun is trying to crawl over him to get to that opposite door while shouting at the one who got away, swearing and calling him traitor. The other kid in the back, meanwhile, bails pretty quickly, but he won't get past Dale easily if Dale decides to do anything about it.]
You kids want an easy out? Hand over the goods! Then we'll let you run all the way home to mommy so you can tell her all about how you wrecked the fucking car.
[The driver loses his cool, and Dale rolls his eyes as he heads after the kid that's getting away. He has a gun on him. He could shoot him. But that feels like overkill. Instead, he uses his favored weapon of the moment and knocks the kid in the head as he drives by. He crumples down to the ground, maybe not dead.
Then again, he's kinda bleeding a lot. Maybe he will die.]
We ain't said nothing about who's car this is.
[He shouts out in response to the driver still in the car, and revs his engine before zooming right at him. The kid blocks his face with his arm and screams, thinking he'll be hit. Dale of course stops right in time, putting his face even with the kid still stuck in the car. And yeah, it kinda does smell like piss now. He's pretty sure this guy is terrified.
Good.]
Toss out whatever you're selling tonight. And don't sell that shit no more, got it? Not this, not anything else. You want to be big boys and try to get in on the action, you better do it smart. Find somewhere else and for fuck's sake don't piss yourself and cry when you get in a fight.
[In Dale's mind, he's doing the kids a favor. Most of them are probably alive and he's giving them tips. They want to sell drugs or whatever, they can. Just not here. Or anywhere near here.
The driver fumbles with his seat belt and gets it undone enough he can lean over to the passenger side floorboard. A backpack is tossed out the shattered window, and Dale glances at it with disinterest.
Get outta here. Go home and cry to your mommy. And don't let me hear about you doing this again, got it?
[He grabs the backpack and secures it around his handlebars, and pulls out of the area to get out of there. One of those kids that ran off is sure to call the cops.]
With the backpack secured, he pulls one more broad circle around the escaping kids just to keep them on their toes, engine roaring as he cuts close to one who tumbles down onto his ass to try and avoid getting hit. And then, laughing, Rigo pulls away to join up with Dale.]
Damn, homes, how hard did you hit that one kid?
[Too fucking funny. And not their problem whatsoever. He gestures to the bag.]
How much d'you think is even in there? Flew like it was mostly empty.