orangetoughguy | log post II

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.]

[These two guns don't flinch to kill man or beast or man beast especially if he is working with his associate Mr. Orange, Freddy, Officer Newendyke.]

Nothin' doin'. We could do it again.

[Sarcasm. Sheer sarcasm. He inspects Freddy's back with one hand, tapping ash off with another.]

[He lets the big old bear inspect him because what's new? Larry knows his body inside and out anyway. Literally.]

You mean go for a drive? Like a real one?

[Leave it to Freddy to spin sarcasm into a genuine request. Suggestion. ...Request.]

[No bruises. No cuts. No tender places. Satisfied he plants a kiss at his cheek before another inhale.]

For you? Sure. Where do you wanna go?

[Ding! This is their floor.]

[....That was sweet. And Larry knows how Freddy considers sweet to be a guilty pleasure...unless it's in the form of edible things.]

I dunno. I could think of a lotta places. I mean, back home.

[Freddy gives a one-shouldered shrug, unsure of how to salvage the implication he just made, what with the city supposedly being 'open' now. Oh right, their floor. He waits for Larry to step off first.]

[A psycho brush with death, there needs to be more sweet things about now.]

Home?

[The light bulb goes on. He hasn't put too much stalk in any of that 'go home' talk. Maybe because deep down he hasn't been willing to accept what that would mean at least it was something to evade when they weren't talking about it. The old man puts his hand up to hold the door even though he's standing on the other side.]

You wanna head back to LA?

[He steps in and shuts the door behind him, locking it up too.]

I dunno, I mean with those things out there you [Generally speaking.] could die trying, then you're stuck for good. That's what they say anyway, you die here you're stuck for life. Or unlife, whatever.

[Not that this answers Larry's question at all.]

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