Topic: Second Verse, Same as the First

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-13 04:22 EST
The sheets crinkle with the subtle shift of a boy making his escape. Low and easy, his movements metered in molasses, each toe, leg, elbow and finger emerging from the bed's confines as if aware, checking their coasts. The noise of the flaking blankets and deflating pillows are comparable to gunshots in Clyde's mind, each little tendril or pump of blood a riot in his ears. Escape, escape, escape. She wanted go. Demanded it. Wants nothing more than to keep her keen little bespectacled eyes on him. Needs nothing but his safe return. No greater gift than a promise kept. Clyde respected Lilly-Rae's wishes, even understood them. But in the warzone, in the mire, in the sh't—-he couldn't allow her there. She'd her share of blood and bodies, more than he ever wished. The boy often found his brows turned with an admiration for the girl, an admiration for her ability to take it. She was an astonishing creature, and for her his love was without measure.

That's why he was going alone.

Crisp, fit denim; An ugly, olive trench-coat; Wickedly-beaten, stock-thatched black-and-white 'Taylors; A pistol, four magazines, a hard pack of cigarettes and a smile. Found absently leering into the curt-return of his sulfur-stroked eyes, the boy yanks his wrist out of the mouth of his jacket to check the time. It was about time.

"The 'fck are you, Florence." Clyde draws upon the bristles allowed to reside upon his rounded jawline, the fingernail puncturing the flesh and aggravating the stubbles' roots; he winces; following the superstitious-rights penned from athletes en-route to a championship, Clyde never shaves before a job

Because he told himself it would be done when he got back.

Soft steps ache the soft beams below the rug as he nears the front-door. A horn sounds; not a beep nor scant honk; a drawn whine that pierces the silence he'd so-carefully built like a grenade in library. Fiercely he whips his head to the bedroom. Goddamnit, goddamnit! Please still be asleep!

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-13 04:33 EST
Like a child, never asleep when the parent so wished, Lilly sprung up from her slumbering position and snatched for her glasses. Squinting chocolates soon widened once the lenses were in place, and she was off of the bed and heading out to him in her prudish, plaid pajamas. Her hair was down in the change of pace, messy and stringy as ever as it poured passed shoulders and stretched to mid-back. "I'm thinking of getting contacts..." Muttered casually as she waltzed out, eyeing him over on her way to the fridge for a bottle of water. Then as she popped back up, taking a nice long sip, she sighed and stretched her neck out, heading back for the bedroom.

Just when he might think he was off the hook...she was out of the bedroom in a t-shirt and jeans. "Also, I told you I was coming, too....Did you forget' That's okay, I understand. Problem solved." Lilly was heading out the door, regtretting the decision immediately after she smelled the air that rivaled Jersey, and felt the cold blast on cheeks and bite her nose.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-13 04:53 EST
The only sounds emitted from the rooked, hanging lips dug into the boy's chin, are sighs. Arms, unwound and limp, mindlessly flap and restlessly pick at pocket-mouths. Argue with her he would not. The horn continues to blast the still night; it was Florence, and he'd grown impatient. Face caste in stern withdraw from independence and right, Clyde only dips his smattered head of raven feathers to signal her outdoors. He brushes-passed her, the meeting of their shoulders many things, though surely not intimate. In the lot waits a sleek, clean, rounded and expensive automobile, its blue-steel-hued headlamps spraying their lawn in lovely light. Crooked over the hood is a chubby, brown face.

"Let's go, Papi," ignorantly and shortly sailed, "No time to waste, 'ere. Get in, we talk it over." He smack the roof before lending his rotund rear-end to the driver's-seat, the car toppling to his side in retaliation.

"Alright, Lil. Let's go."

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-13 04:54 EST
The only sounds emitted from the rooked, hanging lips dug into the boy's chin, are sighs. Arms, unwound and limp, mindlessly flap and restlessly pick at pocket-mouths. Argue with her he would not. The horn continues to blast the still night; it was Florence, and he'd grown impatient. Face caste in stern withdraw from independence and right, Clyde only dips his smattered head of raven feathers to signal her outdoors. He brushes-passed her, the meeting of their shoulders many things, though surely not intimate. In the lot waits a sleek, clean, rounded and expensive automobile, its blue-steel-hued headlamps spraying their lawn in lovely light. Crooked over the hood is a chubby, brown face.

"Let's go, Papi," ignorantly and shortly sailed, "No time to waste, 'ere. Get in, we talk it over." He smack the roof before lending his rotund rear-end to the driver's-seat, the car toppling to his side in retaliation.

"Alright, Lil. Let's go."

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-13 04:54 EST
The only sounds emitted from the rooked, hanging lips dug into the boy's chin, are sighs. Arms, unwound and limp, mindlessly flap and restlessly pick at pocket-mouths. Argue with her he would not. The horn continues to blast the still night; it was Florence, and he'd grown impatient. Face caste in stern withdraw from independence and right, Clyde only dips his smattered head of raven feathers to signal her outdoors. He brushes-passed her, the meeting of their shoulders many things, though surely not intimate. In the lot waits a sleek, clean, rounded and expensive automobile, its blue-steel-hued headlamps spraying their lawn in lovely light. Crooked over the hood is a chubby, brown face.

"Let's go, Papi," ignorantly and shortly sailed, "No time to waste, 'ere. Get in, we talk it over." He smack the roof before lending his rotund rear-end to the driver's-seat, the car toppling to his side in retaliation.

"Alright, Lil. Let's go."

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-13 05:04 EST
Stumbling at Clyde's shoulder check, Lilly let a small growl escape clenched teeth, but soon followed him on out. As the couple made their way to the car, Lilly squinted in annoyance at both the light, and the driver. Still, she made it to Clyde's side of the car and sighed softly. Oh how she'd hoped these days were behind her. Still, she could hope in one hand, and spit in the other; there was no contest on which would fill up first. Slender digits cupped around the passenger's back seat door, and soon Lilly jerked the door open. There were times where she'd felt like Clyde's annoying little sister, rather than his partner, and this time was no exception. As she planted her butt into the seat, she had no hope that Clyde and Lilly's combined weight would straighten out the poor vehicle. She lent a few stray fingers, after shutting the door securely beside herself, to pat the inner door and perhaps give the car a bit of positive reinforcement.

It's alright little car....I don't like this guy either...

A hand clasped around the belt, gathering it into a loose fist and pulling it around that weightless body. Then, letting annoying sister be just that, Lilly squinted at Clyde as he got into his seat. "Put on your seatbelt..." The way she'd said it, was less than a request, and more as if she might as well have added, or I'll stab you through the seat... Accomanying words with a smile, Lilly decided to lean back and enjoy the ride.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-13 05:20 EST
In-toe, Clyde arrives at the passenger door and lifts the handle to click-it-open. A smog thick of menthol cigarettes and pricey cologne assault his nostrils as he swiftly winds his frame into the vehicle. Adding a weighted sigh to the mix of aromas, the stone-faced boy clicks on his belt as-ordered. Florence laughs, and turns his cheeky face around from the console.

"Lord, Clydey-boy. What is this, 'nya" She yer' caretaker, lawgiver?" Florence's bulbous lips part with impending laughter. It soon fills the car, his belly rupturing as he lauds his own jab. From the stylish and vibrantly-colored shirt, to the cologne and car, Florence reeked of a man who had it all for all the wrong reasons. His face was dry and mounded, tiny scars peppering the thick, lush skin of his cheek, just under his left eye, as if a shotgun blast as just missed its mark, or he'd been kicked with a cleat.

"What's yer' story then, Mami'? Why lil' Clyde bringin' you in my car." His tone is fresh and airy, stinks of mockery with ideas of a creep hitting on juvenile.

"Just drive, Florence. I want this over with."

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-13 05:32 EST
Lilly allowed a brow to elevate above its twin for a moment as he spoke, mocking her....Ridiculing their relationship....And why not' It all seemed like a big joke to her anymore. Lately, she'd felt like a trophy, captured and stolen between the boys she'd grown up together. Clyde, obviously the prize when it came to compassion—which wasn't saying much at all....And Gamble, the prize when it came to riches and wealth—which, wasn't anything she cared about. Lilly felt stuck for a moment, like all the air in the car had been filled with both doubt, and the putrid stink of the stranger's cologne.

"My story' What about yours" Mommy never teach you how to put on cologne" Here's a hint: spray it, don't dump it on your body. Less is more, buddy."

Perhaps she'd just been a little hellion because his horn had roused her from sleep. No, she was definitely just annoyed. A finger moved to press on the button that would roll the window down. Air had been a necessary when riding with the fat, smelly man.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-13 05:52 EST
"I think my Mami' give me the know-how to succeed in this crazy town, blondie. You look the polished one, why you shaggin' up with this bum"" A flat, serious look returned as he jabs a thumb at Clyde. Clyde doesn't disagree, nor make a run for a rebuttal. His arms cross and he kicks the space beneath the glove-department. "Let's fu'kin' go, man. I'm not gonna' sit in your stupid goddamn Mercedes for then next four hours and listen to your life-lessons." Florence laughs as he drops the vehicle into drive, easing the pricy masterpiece onto the warm, perfect pavement. "Still a smug little bastard. After all I do for you, you come to me with ugly tone. Not befitting, young Clyde." "Just shut up, and stop talking to my girl."

"You're girl" Oh! Is this the little tramp from the barber shop" Look how you've grown," wheeling his head around once more, his grin broad and dangerous."

Clyde's nose threatens to puncture the Spaniard's cheek as he inclines his head. "I said don't talk to her, don't talk about her, forget she's fcking here, Florence. Just take me to where you want me to go."

The breaks don't hiss on luxury automobiles, but never-the-less, the car comes to a halt. Florence's big, brown face collapses with stark, rolling waves of fatty skin. "Don't talk to me that way, Clyde. You know I can make you a memory with a simple phone call. Do. Not. F'ck. With. Me. You're my tool, you do what I say. Or you die—it's that simple. So YOU keep YOUR mouth shut, or you're gonna' be in the sh't, you understand?"

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-17 05:47 EST
The breaks might not hiss—but Lilly definitely let out one painful one of her own as her head smacked the back of Clyde's seat, and her glasses went flying from her face. She listened to the man speak, listened to the threatening words coming from his lips, and those unmasked, squinting chocolates grew wide, and wider still with every lyric that sang from his fat mouth. That hardened, sassy expression fell short once his sentence ended, and the girl took on a more submissive role. "Wait....Die?" Her voice was shrill and full of panic in that moment.

Damn it, Clyde....What have you gotten yourself into"...

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-17 06:08 EST
Whirling-away the threat with a wafting palm, Clyde's head shakes into the comfortable leather. Lil's question is noted with eyes that snake over the upholstery, their pupils connect for the shavings of a second before he sinks with an annoyed sigh. Feelings run-amuck, the kinds that don't dance, nor mingle together—personal pride, devalued duty. Balancing on the hair separating these halves was a daunting task; no one present would say he walked it well following several-more throttling kicks to the console.

"Just. Drive. Florence. Just go. Enough is enough, man. Your fat-fck'n-a** wouldn't get sh't done without conning a**holes like me into doing your dirty work."

The portly Spaniard chuckles as the car is lifted into drive, the artful engine mellow and dry as it easily gets them going.

With a distant look Clyde mutters;

"Just be careful how hard you push."

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-17 06:14 EST
Lilly's back flattened against the cushiony seat as she listened to Clyde speak, and soon after mutter softly. She tugged lightly at the seatbelt, mostly to make sure it would actually keep her from slamming her head once again if and when the two decided to have another period match. Then she was quiet as a mouse, adjusting her glasses upon her face and staring out through the tinted glass. Her gun had been stashed away somewhere beneath that jacket, though Gamble had long ago broken her favorite piece, and marked her for dead—a threat he'd never came through on....Though his little minion did come rather close. A shudder ran down her spin, and she shook that memory away.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-17 06:32 EST
Despite their unflattering wealth, the gifted check Val signed-over had been weighted with enough zeroes to spare Clyde and Lil from the deep shades of this city's more dastardly and run-down section; the very section the neat, blue beams of Florence's automobile began to sever as they continued. Charred, ugly tenements, graffiti-raped warehouses and splinter-built factories climb into the windows, deflating the airs put-on by the Spaniards flattering vehicle. Florence grins.

"Okay, little Clyde. Here's what?s needed."

Clyde responds with nothing, mindlessly cupping his chin within the stubby fingers sleepily leaned against the door.

"Listen, idiot!"

"Alright, man. Go, shoot, I'm right next to you. F'ck."

Florence's head winds with dissatisfaction, a moist sigh leaping from his bulbous lips along with a scattershot of saliva.

"Up-ahead," chin the arrow with a rise, "Warehouse on Rosemary and 28th. They're unloading a counterfeit press there. Don't ask why I want it, for I tell my secrets to no-one. I imagine no-more than five men there to unload it, should be a walk in the park for my little-killer, 'eh?" More laughter erupts in the cabin. Clyde sighs, sinking further into his palm.

"Five men's no joke, Florence. All's I got is an old .45, I don't think this shit's gonna' work."

Florence grins.

"I've got you covered, Little Killer."

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-17 06:37 EST
Lilly's eyes widened, "Wait a minute....You expect one man to take out five?! Are you out of your mind or did you just miss a meal—" Yeah, maybe it wasn't wise to make jokes about the man holding her boyfriend's life in his hands. "Er, alright....I have my gun. I'll do my best." The chipper young girl said, pressing her lips flat together and offering that doe-eyed expression up ahead as she swallowed hard. A soft hum of displeasure escaped her lips, but Clyde wouldn't be talking her out of lending a helping hand—even if she didn't want to kill anybody....Even if she didn't want to pull the trigger....She'd sure as hell try!

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-17 06:55 EST
Both men take their turn in rolling Lil a curious look—-even share a rare moment of wavelength as they trade crooked looks and lip. Florence laughs, a patronizing look shot into the backseat.

"Oh' You big killer too, then" Clyde, what?ve you done to this one! Have her out sell'n drugs on the corner, maybe sell'n a bit more?" Taken by his own suggestion, a fat, lusty eye measures the little thing, a thin, white tongue reaching across his top lip.

Clyde sighs; today's word.

"So...what?s the surprise" What do you mean 'you've got me covered'."

The obese Spaniard whips his head to the rear of the vehicle.

"In the trunk. Little present for you. And if you pull it off, I'll let you keep it. See how kind I am! So watch you're ignorant tongue."

Fluidly, the vehicle halts. A tiny hict! accompanied by a little vibration in the seat.

"Trunk's open, take the black case. When all's clear, you call me, my crew comes to collect the press."

With his foot stamped upon the street, Clyde's head tears back into the cabin.

"Crew! Well what the f'ck, man!" You've got this 'crew', and yet you're sending me in there alone?"

"I have people for killing, I have people for unloading! Don't question me, goddamnit. Now go!"

Clyde's sure to slam that door. More anger builds when the passenger window fails to shatter. Traversing the exterior of the vehicle, he flips open Lil's door in some rare act of generosity before claiming the case slumbering in the base of the trunk. His brows rise at Lil, head toppling to the right.

"Alright. Let's get this sh't over with."

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-17 07:01 EST
"You're a pig!" Lilly hissed at him, her arms moving to cover what little parts of her lay uncovered. It wasn't much at all, she'd always dressed very carefully, never to show too much—especially in this weather. As Clyde flicked her door open, Lilly stepped on out. "Maybe you're accustomed to paying people for services because it's the only way you can get it, but keep my name out of it!" The girl shouted, puffing out her cheeks after her too-wordy rant, and then slamming the door. Pulling her gun, Lilly nodded. "Let's get it over with..." The doe-eyed dame said, swallowing hard and flaring her nostrils for a deep inhale, and a slower exhale.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-19 10:54 EST
Before traveling too-far, Florence signals the pair, his elbow bent across the roof of his vehicle.

"Clyde," head yanked back with a wink. The rude boy waits in the wind, the olive-tarp of his coat rippling and snapping at his heels. Small eyes wind, choosing their tour, taxiing motive, sheltered in disobedience and hatred for the ugly Spaniard. He starts to move away before a mighty spattering of sighs. Leaving the case on the curb, he jostles to meet the man at his driver-side door, a cigarette crookedly leaning out of the corner of his mouth.

"So I see you and I have differences," says Florence, his tone free of previous sarcasms. "I have 'nother present for you. Interested?"

Clyde's not amused, but his shoulders rise to accept.

"So...my boss, who won't be spoken of, has taken certain interest in you. I tell him of your work; sloppy as it is, it rarely disappoints. However...," fat, oily eyes rolled above his Spanish-twanged English words, "It was your ties with Mr. Gamble that peaked his interest." Florence smiles to crown his climax, as if proud to divulge.

"Yeah' So-f'cking-what. I hate him, I hate you, Christ, I'm running out of assholes to hate." Following his piece, Clyde waits—-the tell that screams his interest. Florence doesn't miss it.

"In any case," squeezing rotund fingers into the little pocket of his trousers and procuring a card, "Give'em a call. Maybe you both get what you want, 'eh"" Florence slaps Clyde's shoulder before squeezing his body into the cabin of his vehicle. Seconds later, it easily rolls away leaving the boy solo under flat lines of yellow streetlamp peering into the tight print of the card. He frowns, stuffs it in his coat, and snatches the black case from the curb.

Once more: "Okay. Let's go."

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-19 11:04 EST
Lilly glanced at the man, biting into her lower lip and stifling a scowl. Once more, she flared her nostrils at the man, and gave him a sarcastic wave before fixing her hair from her face with a dark glance forward. "I sincerely hope that you aren't seriously considering that... It was an uneeded statement....Lilly knew too well his tells, and knew he'd be interested. That name, that Gamble....It scorned her, burned her from the inside out and left her ribcage tight with anxiety. "You know what, nevermind....We both know you're stupid enough to make that call.."

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-19 11:15 EST
What's traded for Lil's dismissive line is a sour, hanging eye dished from a too-tired, too-busy and too-wrinkled socket. It said 'screw you' so he didn't have to. Without audio Clyde makes it across the street, hopping from one burnt and flickering lamp to next, inside his face loses more and more life; he was a corpse by the time they'd meet at the crusted warehouse. He kneels to unbuckle the case. Within he finds a neat little weapon; subcompact and modern; small-millimeter with an exhaustive rate of fire. Strangely, he doesn't smile while assembling it.

"Well, 'Brains'," Clyde bestows, little metallic snaps-and-grinds hissing between his hands as the gun came together, "Gotta' plan?"

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-19 11:22 EST
"I'm not understanding why we need a weapon like that....We can catch them off guard, rob them, and make it out with the case easily. We'll do the usual, I pretend to be helpless, you come in with your weapon, then I pull mine....Nobody gets hurt, everybody gets what they want. Hm?" Pushing her hair aside, she took in a breath. She patted her side, making sure her gun was there. A deep breath was taken, and she chomped into her lip, feasting upon it before turning away from him for a breath of air. "You nervous?"

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-19 11:30 EST
"No, no," the aggravated ruffian spills, slicing an angled set of raucous eyes up for the girl. "It's a counterfeit press—-a machine for making the things. it's going to be too-damn heavy for the two of us to move. We're here to clear the place up—as in, kill everyone inside watching it. And we have to do it soon before their crew comes to pick it up."

The last piece fits in with a perfect snap, and Clyde rises, slipping a fresh magazine into the groove etched within the machine-pistol's handle. His pinky plays with the receiver, loading the first round.

He grins and kicks the bone of his chin towards the back of the building. "I'm pretty much down with just running in and mowin' 'em down. Down for it"...or are you scared?"

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-19 11:36 EST
"I'm...not....I'm not scared! I just don't see why we can't just knock them out, Clyde...Why do we have to kill" Why do we always have to kill?" Lilly groaned softly, looking him over before turning away with folded arms. "It's not our way, that's...his way....Not ours." The pathetic princess tried her hardest to convince him, but knew he wasn't going to budge on this. "Either way....Your mission, sorry....But I'm not going to let you go in there alone..." Lilly pulled out her weapon and sighed. "Let's go."

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-19 11:46 EST
"It's not just his way," silent, sharp and accurate. Clyde decides to light the cigarette he'd been gnawing on. He slides down the building's brick until seated on the sidewalk, the weapon softly laid at his side like a faithful pet, he even eyes it with love. "I'm not a good man, Lillith. What separates Gamble an' Me? He kills for no reason." He toys with the filter, that smoker's game of back-and-forth, smoky plumes spanning the gap of each withdraw. Keen eyes of yellow stab Lil's innocent mocha saucers, a snide and plucky air crisply bent across them, a smirk pairs.

"This is my life, my love. You know it. You know it, you know it." He laughs, maybe at the satire. He wasn't the brightest, but he understood the idiocy of the ways, of the lifestyle. Didn't mean he'd the ability or want to change it.

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-19 11:51 EST
Lilly shook her head, matching his smirk with a smile of her own. One that sang of weariness. She moved close to him, leaned in and parted her lips to speak as her hands rested upon his chest. "You're a good man, Clyde....You just choose not to be.." Without affection, without joy, Lilly parts from him. "Let's get this overwith..." Lilly said, checking her weapon over with clean, careful eyes and swallowed hard.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-19 12:04 EST
"Roger," the boy grunts with effort, pushing himself from the ground, spitting the cigarette away. He bends to snatch the gun, looks and fawns over it, raises it, lowers to allow chilly moonlight to gleam off its panels. Wind strikes his coat, races between lampposts, backhands leaf-and-twig, sits on sewage grates and cuts the moist overpouring his eggshell eyes.

Clyde places a hand on girl's hip and leaves a kiss under her ear as he stands behind. "Choosing a bad life is no choice at all. Just the way I was cut, 'sthe way'll go down. But I love you. And I'm sorry."

The fingers gripping Florence's machinegun rise and fall like an axe, the blunt and heavy weapon's butt issued to the back of Little Lilly's head. It was time for her to sleep this life off.

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-19 12:10 EST
"Clyde, I love you, too..." Lilly began as he worked to lift the weapon behind her unsuspecting head. "But I want us to have—ngh!" A soft whimper coming from copious lips as she froze in her standing position, rangy limbs stiffened. If her head wasn't spinning, if her mind hadn't been fighting darkness, she might have cursed him out, might've appreciated the irony in constantly becoming smacked in the back of the head for protection. It didn't happen, instead, the little thing's body sailed to the ground for an epic face-plant of epicness.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-20 02:22 EST
Without signs of feeling, without cause for alarm, Clyde languidly sets the weapon upon the sidewalk. Neatly, with an ordered cadence, regimentally, the boy gathers Lil's twisted, limp pile of bones in his arms and carries her to the alleyway cut from the shaded space that separated both warehouses. The bed enacted is a rot; her head lent to an old, plastic garbage pale, the boy's old coat plucked from his weak, sloping shoulders to-then blanket her. Clyde sinks to his knee, some alien smile shoved across his teeth; it claims duty, speaks of the girl's safety, counterfeits 'the best course'.

Whispered: "Maybe if you're lucky, you'll wake up to them lugging my dead, stupid body out of here." Pupils nervously be wed the rubbish carpeting the alley; chips of glass, strips of paper, dented cans, all wildly tied in an aroma that could crack the second sense.

He stares into her unreceptive eyes

"You'll wake up'n be pissed—-I know; live-or-die, I can't see living this one down." Raising his yellow eyes, Clyde's vision twists along fire-escapes, running for the roof before catching a ride on the lacy breaths of smoky exhaust that spew from the warehouse's vents. No stars. Never any goddamn stars.

"I love you, Lilly-Rae Murdock. And I'll see ya' soon."

Punctuated with a wink, the boy jogs away, scoops-over his spine to snatch the machine pistol resting on the curb and slips into the lonesome building.

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-20 02:32 EST
Had little Lilly been awake for it, had her eyes parted to reveal chocolate morsels, she might have been pissed. The girl probably wouldn't have chosen a pile of trash for her sleeping place....Definitely would have sceamed at him as she wiped the blood that was pooling down her neck, and disappearing onto the blackness of the bag....She might have asked him, if he'd known that blunt force trauma could kill someone...

But alas, the princess had been out cold. Swimming in a lake of the unknown. Perhaps dreams of past, present and future....Little Lilly as a child, happy and healthy, sad and lonely at the loss of her two rocks...Alone, alone, alone....Then Clyde....And then Gamble. How she cared for both of them, needed them....They'd both betrayed her, both left broken pieces of promises and hearts alike. She needed someone...Something, else.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-20 02:59 EST
Checking the old iron door shielding the building, Clyde's arrival starts fast, starts strong. The boy's shoulder wings the door apart, it leads directly into a hallway, leads directly to one of Florence's 'five'; a tall man, head-to-toe in factory-wear, beige jumpsuit and gloves.

"What the—!" The man, most-likely enroute for the very door Clyde had flung open, the cigarettes in his hand standing as the greatest clue, tries to collect himself, cigs dropped, yanking at his belt for the pistol clipped there. Clyde's knees sink, taking a lax and springy posture to head the nose of his gun into the man's chest. The trigger is depressed and the muzzle chatters. Twelve rounds leap from the barrel almost too-easily, and apart from the boy, the jumpsuited man is smacked to the cold stone floor, eight new additions tattooed on his chest; a messy smattering of bloody punctures. The deafening rate-of-fire didn't spare him time to scream. Clyde takes to running and clears the corpse with a neat hop, body low and lean, sprinting to the opening that fed to the factory floor. Taking refuge against the doorbeam, he slinks a glance into the dark, broad area. The noise had rattled the remaining men, shouts and swears echo in the space as they collect to assess.

Clyde takes a breath and slides a cartridge into his weapon.

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-20 03:08 EST
Lashes folded upon lower lids, as they slowly part to reveal the blurriness of semi-consciousness and smudged lenses. "F'ck..." The girl mumbled hands running through her hair as she lifted herself up from the trash pile. His coat was wrapped into her arms, her nose meeting the fabric. It smelled of cigarettes mostly, but beneath that was a scent that could only be described as his. It was the reason she smelled the coat, the reason she'd smell his pillow when she awoke. Whether the scent was good or bad to most standards, didn't matter at all to Lilly. It reminded her of the past...Reminded her of love.

Still, no matter how much his coat scent cheered her up, nothing would bring her from the rage, or stop her from putting a cap into his ass. No, he was going to catch it hard from Lilly. ...If he didn't already fall....A deep breath and hard swallow later, she was smoothing down her hair only to feel the sticky wet vital that cooled her fingers and matted her hair. "Damn it, Clyde..." The girl mumbled softly, before tearing off to follow where he'd went.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-20 03:47 EST
Nestled in the shield created behind the doorway's broad arch, Clyde readies the receiver as heavy, booted heels clamber towards. Luckily (the boy's one and only power) two lame-minded men run into the hall without taking note of his shrunk form. He leaps to his feet and reclaims his stance, the sub-compact's light, functional stock tied into the crook of his shoulder as he leans his eye across the weapon's roof, pupil threading the foresight. The muzzle barks, filling the tight span with its eighth-noted cries, the entire magazine poured into the backs of both men, hot shells bounce and jingle on the stone. Both bodies huddle on the floor and bleed. One still moves, still emotes and labors with breath. Clyde pays no mind as he ejects the clip and replenishes the hungry weapon.

From the big factory floor, a seasoned voice growls;

"You've got no chance, man. Toss your weapon out and we won't shoot."

Clyde angles a grin that can't quite succeed below thin, busy eyes, repositioning himself behind the doorway.

"Don't think so' I got three dead men in here that would say otherwise."

A pause from the speaker.

"Last chance, kid."

"I think I've got a few more left in me, I think."

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-20 04:34 EST
The men in the room answer with several shots, their lead eating and pulverizing the doorframe's spackle, great plumes of tan-white burst in Clyde's face, their flakes sprinkling the floor. He ducks and runs, bullet's hissing and buzzing in his ears, small, awkwardly-jogging knees struggle to keep the pace required, seeking shelter behind a mighty stack of steel containers. Pinching his lips, rolling a pursed little 'o' to the end of his mouth, he readies subcompact; he'd let them come to him, for if Florence's intel was on-point, only two remain. A minute that passes as an hour stings the boys nerves. His eyes beg for a peek, but at what cost—their shots were accurate and controlled. He knew the wrong angle could leave his head exposed for a piercing. But roasting in the pit of his belly was the known; 'the known' being those men most-certainly had phoned their boss by now. Time was an enemy. And now: steps; speedy, lithe steps; those without reservation, feet with gifts of fearlessness. As his ears clock them drawing nearer, Clyde swings his hand out, and without the aid of eyes, blindfires at the approaching steps, the machinegun prodding the unknown space with lead fingers that bite, chip and spark off a myriad of metallic surfaces.

"Nghla!" A gusty groan partnered with the familiar sound of torn cloth and exploding flesh. The blindshots had found the fourth man.

"Ahh...Ahnn....F'ck...f'ck...I'm gonna' f'cking die.." Each syllable is a tragedy, moistly draped and strained, tears folded in the dying man's speech, blood hiccupped, a blackening and slowing heart.

"Whose luck ran out no—-!" Clyde's words are suffixed in groan as the boy's first mistake was made. The arm sheltering the gun was left exposed for too-long, and the fifth-and-final had snuck up while veiled in the dying cries of his comrade. Grabbing Clyde's arm, he yanks him from his hiding place, his old, toned body making short-work of Clyde's light, un-marvelous one. Airborne, the boy's thrown against the wall, a smart thud of his spine before his ragdolled limbs pool on the ground; fingers, hands, arms, chin, in that order. He groans, and eyes blast from their houses, seeking his weapon. No time spared as the fifth man mails a booted-toe to Clyde's cheek. He limply rolls across the floor like a beaten rug.

"Uhgn...Heh...heh-heh..." The bloody-mouthed boy sputters, lifting fingers to trace his bruised and misplaced jaw. He slings funny eyes to the assailant.

"Mmn...heh...you kick like fu'cking girl."

"You hide like a little bitch."

Clyde shrugs.

"Gotta' do what ya' gotta' do. Five-on-one. Jussayin'."

The tall, grey-haired brute chuckles, mindfully tracing his belt with five fingers. Lethargically, they crawl to the pistol jutting from his waist.

Clyde

Date: 2013-02-20 04:49 EST
Twisting on the floor with lightning-graced strikes of limb, Clyde snags the spare pistol he'd stuffed under his shirt. Alarmed, the boy's assailant draws his. Mortified in the clich' of a high-noon affair, two shots ring-out. The salt-and-pepper attacker crumbles to the stone, for Clyde's shot had entered at the joint where foot-meets-shin, and exited via the plump, tender strips of the Achilles. He howls as his hefty frame collapses in the shrieking pain of his blown-out tendon.

Clyde's body juts and wriggles on the floor. He'd also been hit. The dim light of the warehouse glimmers upon the lower-half of his belly where moisture has collected upon his shirt. Despite, he rises, the muzzle lowered, aimed at the old man's head.

"Hnn...Hnn...." Pained and roiling breaths from the defeated, fingers snatching his ankle. Once the man had realized that Clyde was over him, his eyes climbed to face him. They were thin, workers eyes. Molded by a lifetime of labor, robbed of color and the promise of a better life, now left grey like the iron of his trade. He won't beg for his life.

Clyde won't offer.

Bang.

Lilly Murdock

Date: 2013-02-20 05:00 EST
Lilly thought to stop him, but what good would it do' The man was useless, broken....He couldn't have got up and followed them...Had already been dirty, so he left not a chance of calling the police...The man had been on his knees....Helpless, and Clyde just....Shot him. It only left one question repeating itself within that blonde head of hers.

Why?

There'd been no time. No more precious seconds to two chocolate orbs to swim upon their own, twin lakes of white. No time to hush that wheezing sound that jutted from her lungs as her athsma began to take over through the anxiety....There was no time left, not for her, not for Clyde, and certainly not for that man....With a final sniff of his jacket, one she'd stained with her own blood, Lilly set it down in front of the doorway. Then her gun, and then her cell phone. She'd go for their apartment, get whatever she could take, and then she'd be gone from Clyde, and Gamble alike. Perhaps she'd get a job....Perhaps she'd find a roommate....Or maybe she'd go lay in that faux grave Clyde paid for to keep her safe.

As Lilly all but sprinted from that awful place, she knew one thing.

She wasn't going back.