[center][h3][color=#43464B][sub]In the minds of[/sub][/color]
[color=#CCAC00][b]C R O S S R O A D [/b][/color][/h3]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Updto8r.png[/img]

[color=#43464B][sup][b]AWAKENING[/b][/sup][/color][/center][color=#43464B][indent][sub][B]Location[/B] [COLOR=SILVER][I]Doctor Faust's Manor[/I] - [I]Outskirts of the city[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b]Part 3[/b][/right][/sup][/indent][/color][hr][INDENT][COLOR=#43464B] 03:41 AM[/COLOR] [color=#43464B][B][sub][/sub][/B][/color][/indent]

The night was drawing to halfway done and the sun would rise in another 3 hours. Joseph was asleep, but barely. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, having a dream - a nightmare. He was reliving the night. From the savage beating he took, the baseball bat and wrenches they used to break just about every bone in his body, how they destroyed his knees, pulled out every finger nail and pulverized his ribs with kicks. How they burned his hand to the bone with the welding torch. Finally, they brought back the bat and the biggest of the bunch, Tomas 'Triggerman' Scaletti, hit Joseph with it, hard enough to crack his forehead and knock him out cold. a 40 minute drive to the other side of town, just him and Scaletti where Scaletti put him on his knees at the crossroad outside of Faust's mansion and pulled the trigger.

His eyes shot open as he felt the scar on the back of his neck - the scar from the burning hot pipe of the gun burn once again. He heard voices inside of the house. A break-in. Looters.

They hadn't entered the room he was in, instead walking around in the main hall downstairs, Joseph crawled out of bed and peered out of the door he was in. They were armed. Two of them with baseball bats, a third with a shotgun. He could clearly tell that the two armed with the bats carried handguns in their waists. They weren't just random burglars. They were hitters.
Joseph was still far from lucid, his motor skills barely worked. He could barely stand and his head was still ringing by a billion wasps.

But he knew that he couldn't call the cops - he'd never make it to the phone. The Doctor was probably asleep in his lab which Joseph somehow knew was a panic room and was certainly able to barricade himself in it. "Where the fuck is that Conjo Detective?!" One of them told the others.

[i]So they are here for me.[/i] Joseph thought. How did they know he was still alive, more so, how did they know he was here?

"Check upstairs, puto." The other one said to the guy, whom shrugged and headed upstairs, bat in hand.

Joseph quickly looked for something - a weapon. It wouldn't take long for the thug to make his way up the stairs and into the guest quarters - it was a logical layout of the house. 

[color=red][i]You're gonna die. Again.[/i][/color] The voice within him mused. Joseph shook his head. He was weak, and he was tired. But he hadn't beaten death once already just to get killed while in recovery. It just wouldn't play out that way.

Looking around for a weapon, it dawned on him as he saw the silhouette of the thug coming around the corner that he didn't need a weapon. He had titanium plated knuckles. He hadn't really thought of his new hand earlier. It hadn't dawned on him that the doctor had amputated his the one Scaletti had taken apart and burned to a crisp. Joseph as silently as he could, shifted towards the other side of the door, so the thug couldn't see him upon entering the room. He didn't have much sense for balance, so standing up was incredibly difficult and not an activity worth pursuing at this point.

He waited. counted the steps. four, three, two- the man opened the door.

One. "Fuckin' Mice." The thug exclaimed as he checked the room. Though, he was stumped when he saw the very clearly recently used bed. "Ay, hombres! Bed over here. Recently slept in!" He shouted, turning around and as he did, he saw the gold eyes of the detective flash as the dark grey of the metal hand pulverized his face. The guy fell to the floor and Joseph did the same, losing his balance. The thug was knocked out cold and his entire face from eyebrow to cheekbone was bleeding - looking almost caved in. Like he had been hit with a sledge. 

"The fuck happened. Carlos?!" One of the other men shouted and headed up the stairs. Joseph would have scrambled for the thug's gun, but he never had much of a chance to do so. The other two thugs were running up the stairs, Joseph had to abandon his quarters and moved into the corridor, hiding in the shadows. One of the men walked into his quarters, seeing Carlos's limp body on the floor. "What the fuck happened?!" He shouted, cocking the shotgun, the other man was pulling his gun, as Joseph tackled him from behind, pushing him into the other. 

"That's fucking him! Puto!" The thug shouted as he scrambled to his feet from the floor, Joseph turning around and limping out into the corridor, putting some distance between the two. Swiping a vase from the shelf above, he swiftly turned and flung it at the thug exactly as he turned the corner. It hadn't dawned on him how impressive that timing was, he was too busy trying to figure out how he was gonna avoid getting filled with buckshot. The man with the bat cursed as the vase hit him, glass shattering. It didn't knock him out, but it certainly pissed him off. He came charging at Joseph with the bat, which was a gift in disguise, as it kept the other thug from shooting him with the shotgun - not wanting to shoot his partner. Joseph could see the trajectory of the swing of the bat and his metal hand caught the metal bat and a loud BANG was heard. Joe janked the bat towards him, disrupting the thug's footing a little, the thug used the momentum to tackle Joe, sending him to the floor on his back, falling to one knee himself. Joseph used the bat to pull himself off the ground, and as the thug was reaching for his pistol, he swung the bat into his chest, knocking him to the side. His hand slid accross the length of the bat as he held it like a spear, and flung it at the doorway, hitting the man with the shotgun in the shoulder. A shell escaped the gun, hitting the wall to the side. The man fell to the floor and swiped the bat from the ground, swinging upwards at Joe, whom tried to catch the bat but was hit in the ribs, wincing in pain but not losing focus. He went for the second swing wit hthe bat that Joe parried with his forearm. Grabbing the arm of the thug with his regular hand, the metal one came in, closing the distance and decking him in the face, sending him once again to the floor, this time out cold. Teeth and blood sprayed across the wooden floor.

Joe was holding his side as he pushed his back against the wall, keeping his balance as he grew more and more dizzy, moving towards the thug in the hallway, whom was now coming too, he reached for his gun and pointed it as Joe got in close enough to grab him. He tried pulling the trigger, but the safety was still on. Joseph caught him by the throat and with surprising amounts of ease lifted him up to his knees, pushing him against the wall.

[color=#CCAC00]"What. The. Fuck. Do you want?[/color] He spit the words out while putting more and more pressure around the man's throat, too hard for the man to be able to breath, never the less speak, he was fighting against the iron grip but there wasn't much he could do.

[color=red][i]It'd be so easy. Just crush his windpipe. You know you want to. Squeeze a little bit harder. [/i][/color] The voice said coyly. The thug fell to the ground as Joseph released his grip, holding his throat. "Ff-Fuck you." He wheezed and Joseph swiftly, albeit painfully, punched him in the face, knocking him out.