orangetoughguy | log post II

[Yes, on the back. He's got the option of wearing a helmet though, if Freddy has to wear one then he definitely has to wear one-- Wait what? The kid stares. And stares. Then comes one flappy hand and an equally zealous shaking of his head.]

She wasn't made for me. I put her together, I created her, I gave her life.

[What's with men--even cocksucking ones--gendering modes of transportation as ladies anyway? Ah well, should make riding in the bitch seat less of a big deal right? Freddy shrugs then admitting.] The boss helped.

[The kid smiles again, helmet in hand and offering it to the old man.]

You made her to your own specifications.

[Yeah he's noting how it's the perfect height for Freddy. In fact, it kind of looks like something some super hero would use.]

I didn't see no bike or bike pieces when I was around last.

[The bike is a woman because these two dogs are going to take her for a ride. Duh. Though, why not a man? The world may never know.]

This the maiden voyage or something?

[He takes the helmet. Slowly.]

Uh huh.

[Hey just cause he's a little lower to the ground than most average men of his background doesn't mean the bike is a pony, it's just no draft horse. As for the superhero aesthetic, well no argument there. That's on purpose.]

It's a garage, everything's in pieces. [That's right, you take that helmet and you wear it proudly, Lawrence Dimick. Freddy pats the backseat as some gesture of encouragement.] Uh huh. Couldn't come any sooner.

[Although it's after sunset that doesn't mean those creatures aren't still circling. He hasn't asked but the kid wonders what the old man thinks of this barrier business.]

What do you call it?

[She. It. Freddy is looking like a proud Pop about now showing off. Excuse the old man for taking his time putting the helmet on. He's also getting over himself at the same time. A guy could get a lotta shit riding bitch.

A sigh in a huff and he's on the bike.]

I appreciate the ride. [Those buzzards haven't escaped his notice.]

Are you packing?

[He means heat, kid. And no, he's not gonna check for you, though he puts his hands at Freddy's waist anticipating movement.]

I dunno yet but I'll thin of somethin', somethin' that fits. Somethin' real good.

[He nods over his shoulder, noting the huff and feeling proud of that too. Hah. As for packing, the kid's got two guns on him but riding and shooting at the same time might prove to be difficult, so...]

Right boot, left side.

[He says to Larry so the old man knows where to draw from if he needs a quick reload. Vroom vroom, he's got the girl roaring again, ready for take off.]

It's no Harley that's for sure.

[That goes for the model and maybe as far as names go too.

All the old man wants to know is that the kid is being careful. And it sure does cross his mind they may need to defend themselves, not just from ridicule. Except, see, who is out at this hour that's milling about. The last time they were this close in public on the street--that was broad daylight but who's counting--they had tits.]

Okay, tough guy.

[Larry holds on a little tighter, ready to jet.]

It's no Nighthawk either but it's got a little Nighthawk in it.

[Her. Whichever. Freddy nods one more time, visor down. Who's gonna recognize them now and if anyone did does it really matter? Most people know they run together, maybe the only 'unexpected' aspect would be Mr. White riding bitch. What can Freddy say about that anyway huh? People ought to accept he who builds the bike drives it. Or something. Plus, feeling those paws on his waist is really something.]

And we're off. [The noise thunders onward as he peels out into the street, taking them down the fastest route home.]

Hawkeye?

[Throwing that out there, without knowing all of the similarities. Freddy'll come up with something.

A ride is just a ride in the public eye right? They say everybody does this in Europe and it's nothing. It's so nothing they got another name for it. Larry can't remember what it is but he remembers a man telling about his globe trotting and the differences between here and there.

Besides, why take the bike away from the man who just put it together. (As though he could muscle Freddy aside and drive...) He'll have to be sure to tell the kid how fucking proud he is to know he put together a whole damn bike. Is that something he'd be embarrassed about? Who the hell knows people who build shit like that? Freddy Newendyke that's who.]

Oh--[the engine thunders and his 'kay' is lost. Larry scoots closer, and keeps a good grip. The only thing worse than riding bitch is falling off they say.]

Edited 2011-03-31 00:15 (UTC)

Hawkeye's a man!

[Freddy shouts over the engine belatedly. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmm, the bike goes but the streets stay flat along the earth. It's the skies they've got to watch out for. Freddy's already caught two in his mirror, taking off from their perch at the roof of a building they pass.]

Incoming on the left.

[Who says? Oh. That could be someone huh? Sounds like a super hero, now that he really thinks it over. Hawk is a neat name by Larry's count. Speaking of birds, he looks left. Sure enough there are some buzzards. Never saw ones like that. Already he's reaching for one gun, he's got to let go of Freddy with his right, cross drawing out of habit. Larry only takes off the safety when he's sure he's got a good hold on the kid.]

I see em. You focus on getting us there.

[Okay, now he's ready and good thing too because one more has decided to join.]

Ugly pieces of shit.

[Especially when they come on closer. Bang! Bang!]

[Like Lawrence Dimick, Freddy Newendyke here trusts the man with handling his guns. While he's not as strict as Larry, he doesn't let just anyone handle his firearms either. The sound of the bullets hitting their targets is hard and metallic, zinging and pinging like the rounds might just ricochet all over the place but the gunfire sends both pieces of shit crashing into nearby walls.]

Doesn't look like they do too well at night.

[That's praise for you too, Mr. White, not that the kid ever had any doubt about your marksmanship. But wait, while one's left in pieces on the sidewalk the other one's nowhere to be found even though Freddy's fairly sure they both hit.]

[A man trusts their guns with their life, and whoever they trust their guns to, well, that goes without fucking saying. So far one gun does the trick though any quick glance tells the old man to keep his eyes peeled.]

So they aren't part owl.

[All that metal coming to pieces. You can't call them robots though they've got skin.] What the fuck are they supposed to be?

[There's a rattling noise and for a second he believes they lost their fugly friends when one attempts to dive at Freddy's side. Larry's there with a bullet in no time. He is hardly even thinking anymore, just reacting.]

You mean besides motherfucking ugly--shit!

[That fucker takes the kid by surprise, making Freddy lean almost too far down before quickly righting the motorcycle back up. One shot from Two Guns though impacts the piece of shit hard enough to stun it...right before it crashes into a mailbox. Nice work.]

Fuck. [Huff huff. His heart's pumping now.] Fuck main streets.

[A turn and Orange is going down a street less wide than the previous one, with awnings. One bump and he's up on the sidewalk. Bad form for a cop but hey if he doesn't hurt anyone or break shit who's gonna complain right?]

Fuck!

[That was close. Larry tries not to pant and fog up the glass of his helmet visor. The very last fucking thing he needs.]

Okay. Good riding.

[He pats Freddy's chest. His grip migrated. After a scare like that he's not putting his gun away until they're home free.]

Even with a clear shot they don't go down easy.

Thanks. Hang on.

[Cause it's gonna get bumpier with the way Freddy's driving. There's a shadow under the streetlight and he's pretty sure he knows what it is even though he can't see the fucker. Acceleration plus a sharp sharp turn gets the shadow smashing through a dark window above them. Ooookay, well it doesn't sound like anyone got hurt up there so Freddy's gonna keep going.]

This is bullshit you know!

[Going home shouldn't be dangerous. For Officer Newendyke going home is a break from danger. Almost there though at least. Huh, there's something he hasn't considered, where to keep the bike once they're there.]

Haven't stopped yet, kid.

[The clutch at his chest tightens as they go this way and that. He doesn't want to risk holding Freddy with the armed hand. One more? Aw man. Larry's ready for it, aiming for the face.]

Oh, I know. It's like they're zeroing in on people.

[PING. And it's a gonner. The rest of the ride from here is easy street though that doesn't mean Freddy lets his guard down for even a second. But so far so good, no more swooping, no more screeching. That's their complex up ahead, he slows the bike to a walk along the side block.]

That last one was close, Jesus Christ.

[Puff puff. Breathe. Now...where to keep the bike.]

[The old man doesn't believe it's over for a moment.]

Motherfuckers can't take a hint.

[Left. Right. Above.]

Drive into the lobby. We pay good money for rent.

[A whoosh of wings and Larry opens fire behind him. It's a nick to one of those steely wings which make it take a dive about ready to crash before recovering. Click. Fuck. Larry opts to grab his other gun rather than reloading. It takes too long, they've got vital seconds.]

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

[The lobby? Really? What if they get evicted for it? Freddy's still thinking about it which is why that divebomb takes him by surprise.]

Holy shit! [Inside the lobby it is.] Alright here we go.

[Brrrrrrrm brrrrrrmmmm. He takes that motorcycle straight into the wide glossy open place, tracking grime along the marble floor. Do they get looks? Yep, but nothing as terrified as the way people look at the fuckers who stop short of coming through the doors too. Apparently they're like vampires, won't come in uninvited. Fuck anyone who feels neighborly with the beasts.]

[Who gives a fuck about management at the apartment when their lives could end because of ugly bird women?]

Home, sweet, motherfucking home.

[Are they parked? Once still, Larry dismounts, helmet off. And all of those conceptions of diminished masculinity because of where he chose to sit are gone entirely. He's eying those monsters on the outside.

Heavy sigh and he looks to the fearless motorcyclist.]

[When he does put the thing in park and on the kickstand, next Freddy tips his visor up because green eyes peering out from the black looks badass. One look at current staff on hand and he tosses a coin their way. See, he can tip too, especially for things that matter like his motorcycle.]

I wanna see her in one piece tomorrow morning.

[He explains, nothing more. Hell if they want to put it in an office they can, he doesn't care, as long as the motorcycle stays intact.]

What a pain in the ass. [The fearless cyclist shakes his head at the doors. Keys in tow he dismounts, the helmet stays on because again...denim and leathers, come on. It looks supercool.]

[A suit with a big ol' helmet head doesn't look as cool as leather and denim by a long shot. Those brown eyes are watching. Since the kid is taking care of the bike he can head to the elevator.]

Come on, stunt man. [Or maybe Mike on the Bike. Whatever. Since he's thinking about gunfire, he reloads. It's an easy, fluid action.]

[Only when they're actually in the elevator does he take his helmet off. Yep. Green eyes are watching too.]

You ever wonder why nobody around here acts how they would if you walked into Union Station like that?

[Reloading his guns oh so fluidly with his blazer kind of flapping smoothly in motion.]

[He shrugs and pulls out his Chesterfields.]

My guess is that they seen it all. Though, I think they'd take me seriously if they were the ones that gave me a reason to go at em.

[Mr. Orange, looking too damn slick.]

You all in one piece?

[Make no mistake, he'll check himself.]

Fair enough.

[Freddy concedes to that. It's believable Larry, Lawrence Dimick, Mr. Joe Armed Robbery, could make anyone shit himself with two barrels....or just a look. As for himself, the kid gives himself a brief once over except he can't see his own back so much for that.]

I think so. How about you? [Now green eyes are roaming over the old man's suited form.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject