pinkeffinprofessional

Oh come on are you gonna play that game?

[Yeah he fucking said it though not in a cruel or too sarcastic tone. It's only that after the last couple days he feels some straight forward talking would be beneficial to their partnership. Later though, fine, not while the third wheel is rolling around.

Hell that was a strike. Fucking predictable.]

It's not like we're playin' for money.

[Er. Are they? They aren't right? Freddy shrugs once, channeling Super Cool and waits for Pink to get a move on.]

I ain't playing. [Larry returns from his strike, walking close to Freddy to at least say it directly to the man. His eyes transmit all of the seriousness that his tone doesn't. Let him piss and moan, but this is not going to go down in front of Pink. They've been doing great so far in keeping all the important details out of the man's knowledge. For fuck's sake let them keep it up.] Later.

[Taking a seat, he looks from one man to the other.] We can still play for cash. The show's not over. I'm in. [He smiles broadly because it is something worth smiling about. Of course he's in.]

Show us what you got, Pink.

I don't have the fucking cash to lose to either of you.

[This is such a lie.

Pink shrugs and goes for it - rolling a decent round, but nothing stellar or breath-taking.]

[Okay. That shuts the kid up right and proper though it doesn't stop him from huffing on the inside. Okay. They'll talk about it later because Larry keeps his word. As long as this isn't going to be about how Freddy needs to abide by a special set of rules until he's 'ready' to run with the big boys.]

Yeah sure, who doesn't wanna when they're so damn good. [Ffff. He's back in his super cool persona, just shooting the shit with the guys. As for Pink having no money, they could play for a round at the bar.] A round of brews sound fair to you?

[He looks over at Pink whose skill is on par with his own (or maybe worse, hmmmm). With the Escape full and gone there's a momentary pause of musical silence taken over by the sounds of the lanes. Bowling balls rolling and pins knocking over drown out the first bars of the next song in the queue but it's an obvious build up.]

Or next round on the juke? [Casual question, this, as he taps his cigarette out in a tray.]

[The old man spreads his hands.] What? Can you blame me? [Skill gets rewards. That's how the math works. He didn't make it that way. It's just so.] I wouldn't turn down a cold one. You can afford that right? That and rent?

[How does Pink even get by? Maybe they'll never know. Is that weasel of a man gonna come on back so they can finish their conversation? Come on, Pink. There might be more than one good dinner in it for you. Until then the build up keeps coming. Lyrics aren't far away at all.]

Oh say. I think I know this one. Fuck, what's the name of that group? That's the problem with one hit wonders.

A round sounds okay. I got enough for rent.

[He turns his head at the music]

Kind of how I feel sometimes with the clowns in this place. It's Stealer's Wheel.

Beer's decent enough for a cheap bastard like you....

[....What? He looks at Larry then at Pink. Larry. Pink. He's looking at Pink real hard now like he's trying to remember something. There's something about this song, about this situation. A situation they got into where for a time the kid had to be left alone with one hostage and a mad man. That weasel's no rockabilly prison tough guy, but he put the song on. If he put it on then he's the man who has to go down. Freddy gets up on his feet, hand going for the firearm at the small of his back. Mr. Orange is fast and doesn't even flinch when he squeezes off the first round. Then a second. And a third. Watch out a fourth is coming in no time.]

You look like you shop at Goodwill though, Mr. Pink. [Fuck someone had to say it. Larry's proud enough of himself to laugh at his own joke. His head is turned to get the full effect of how the man's gonna take it, cheap bastard is asking for hits like that.

The song flows as they do. In his peripheral he sees Freddy approach again, and like a magnet he draws Larry's attention. And holy shit this was not what was expected.]

What--[and like that, before any questions are completely formed gunfire? Jesus fucking Christ! The sight strikes him dumb for too many vital seconds.]

[It moves too fast for Pink to respond, at first, and he collapses, one bullet nasty and painful in him. Getting shot in the gut really is a fucking bitch.]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! You fucking - FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

[Look there's just no manly way to do this, okay? His own hand goes for his gun at the same time that he dives behind the ball return, and turning to aim back at the shithead asshole]

[People are screaming everywhere now, running for cover just like this coward here whom Freddy pursues with the seriousness of a nuclear war. Green eyes are brighter, more vivid. He squeezes off another set of rounds, hitting the ball return until--]

Fuck!

[He takes a graze to his arm, bullet tearing into leather, shirt, and skin before he makes a dive for cover behind the nearest table. If he can reach. That didn't happen, that is not the memory associated with this song. The song is still playing too.]

Put the gun down! [Pink? Orange? Both of them! He's dividing his attention between the two. Fuck. Larry's done cowering. He's the one who's still in one piece. A quick glance at Pink sees tat he's gonna need some help ASAP.] Don't fucking move from this spot. [In case if he had any bright ideas to trench crawl or fuck all if Larry knows how that brain of Pink's works.] Don't you fucking dare shoot or you'll wish you were dead.

[Clear enough for you? It better be. The old man has his hands more than filled. That chump needs medical attention. God only knows what the fuck Freddy needs. Whatever it may be, Larry's got to try. He's walking in the opposite direction of the other alley patrons. Shit is there anyone left in here anymore? The machines are humming, the song is still playing loudly. What the hell is going on? Mr. White isn't sure if he too should draw a gun, he's got no intention of returning fire.]

Come out, Orange. No one's gonna do anymore shooting. You're the boss. Come on out, let's talk. You and me. Pink can't go no-where. See, you got him good. That what you wanted?

Fuck-

[Pink hears White and drops the gun as he grabs his own belly in pain. Dropping the gun because White is in charge and Orange likes him and even though he wants to shoot Orange in the head, his stomach fucking hurts]

You fucking asshole!

[His voice modulates in pitch as he breathes, scuttling further behind the ball return, grabbing his gun with a bloodstained hand just in case]

[The kid can see them both moving, mouths moving, a gun waving, but he can't hear anything. He just hears that song, still fucking playing even though it's short where most songs are concerned. When Freddy sees that Larry is taking control of the situation he only acknowledges an opportunity to come back out and keep firing. Except his gun's empty now. All twelve bullets. Gone. But he's still pulling the trigger. Click click, giving the pair a desperately angry look, but look closely and he's focused completely beyond White's shoulder to where Pink would be. Click click.]

.....

[He stops just a couple steps from Larry who ought to have his guns out, both of them, to shoot up this cop cause that's what he does isn't it? What are you thinking, Newendyke? Around them people are either hiding, gone, or begging someone to call the cops. Hell maybe all three.]

[Both hands up but not so dramatically, like this is a stick up. No gun here. Larry swallows thickly seeing the way his finger keeps at the trigger. If there were more bullets in that gun there's a good chance he'd be Swiss cheese.]

I got you, kid. Nothing bad's goin' on. Put that away.

[Voice low and calm enough, Larry's surprised at himself. Anything, he can say anything in this moment whatever it would be if it would make everything okay. Sure, Freddy can get rallied up but he's not a hot head, he's not a maniac and he's not the type to go berserk.]

Talk to me. You gotta talk to me.

He's out of fucking bullets, call a fucking-

[Pink may be wounded but he can still count. He does not want to die here in a bowling alley in a fucking ugly shirt.]

Call an ambulance, you fucking asshole!

[See it's okay now because they're not in the middle of something illegal.]

[Too bad there's very little one can do about dying wearing an ugly face. The kid releases the now empty magazine only to drop the gun entirely. What the fuck just happened. What the fuck did he just do.]

Did anybody get hurt...?

[That Freddy's disoriented is fairly obvious but at least he's talking to Larry. Is that blood on the floor? Looks like. He thinks they ought to get Pink to a hospital but part of him says they can't because he's got to bleed to death until Cabot sticks his head in that fuckin' door.]

You shot Mr. Pink. He shot you too. [Which is what he's looking at right now. Don't look to bad. The jacket is fucked. The situation is fucked. And fuck if they're going to put up with any bullshit out of this. It's clear that the man snapped. The way those green eyes look as they pass over everything, it's like he's somewhere else.

Larry stoops to get the gun, it's in his waistband in a flash, empty or not.]

What's going on in your head? We've gotta solve this fast. [So they can move to the Pink problem...and the getaway. Both of those things are useless if Freddy is going to crack again.]

[People nearby are screaming, but it's Pink's voice that rises above the litany]

You fucking-

Shut up and call a hospital!

[His breath is getting ragged as he tries not to scream like a little girl. He is Mr. Fucking Pink, he's a fucking professional, and he's bleeding out on the floor. Fuck if he's going to end up like Mr. Orange, doing this for more than a few minutes.]

[Screw you, weasel! It ain't as easy as it looks now is it! Too bad Freddy's not a mindreader or in any state of mind to argue with Pink about how one deals with a blow to the gut. Fff.]

I don't know. [He admits to Larry with a frown because he does have one foot in the bowling alley and another in a dirty warehouse. The next part he directs at Pink.] Okay.

[And look, it's Freddy who's doing the dialing from his network device for the guy. It's like the kid's on auto pilot, not even bothering with any reaction to his arm wound.]

[You'd think the world revolved around Pink. What a drastically stark contrast of how much sympathy Larry as for the man. Everyone in this confrontation knows how the old man acted. He has reason to believe there might be a reason behind Freddy trying to fill Pink full of bullets. The man welcomes suspicion.

The kid is listening. That's good. Larry feels like the situation is calm enough for him to turn to look at the place where Pink had been laying.

Please God, if you're ever gonna listen to anything don't let the cops come in. Just the EMTs.]

Tell 'em it was an accident. That's what it was, right? [He's begging you, man. Give him something to work with that doesn't say he's lost his mind.]

[Well that's where Pink's world revolves, and considering he's the one bleeding out of his stomach, he's pretty sure he's justified.]

How do you unload a clip into someone on accident, White?

One man down. Shot in the belly. Still alive and conscious.

[His delivery isn't completely calm but his disorientation keeps it from sounding shrill or unintelligible. Pink wouldn't appreciate that at all would they? Freddy gives the bowling alley's location as well.]

They're on their way.

[Freddy looks at the pair, brow furrowing now. He says nothing but the look on his face is readily apparent: What do I do? What did I do?]

What's that, Pink? You want to go in for questioning to file a report? [Get the hint, motherfucker! Larry rakes a hand through his hair. Be cool, be fucking cool because someone has to.]

We're gonna stay here and wait for them to take Mr. Personality to get patched up. Then we're gonna get you home. [Our home. Larry carefully starts to approach even more.]

[Pink isn't a rat, you fucking asshole, but he's in fucking pain and he wants to pistol whip Orange into a bloody pulp of broken bone and skin.]

I'm fucking bleeding and it's like goddamn Romeo and Juliet.

[Can't you fags work out why Orange is such a fucking cunt later?]

[Freddy nods, letting Larry take control of this situation cause letting him do so last time worked out fairly well. Except for the getting shot part. The car ride and care on the ramp were okay. As for Romeo and Juliet the kid turns a sharp glare at Pink, nothing close to his determination to kill a man who wasn't really here but yeah, it's a glare.]

They're gonna take care of you, you'll get a doctor. Tell them it was an accident and I'll get you the best one there.

[Whoa, so many words for a disoriented kid. Things are coming back to him but only in and out, like one moment he's confused, the next he's in efficiency mode. Maybe because the latter is the only thing he can understand right now.]

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