[center][h2][COLOR=slateblue][b]V I C  S A G E[/b][/COLOR][/H2]
[img]https://i.postimg.cc/xd3ZHMYH/vic2.png[/img][/center]
[COLOR=slateblue][indent][sub][b]Location and Time:[/b] [I]Hub City, Illinois[/I] - [I]Two Days Later, 6:17 PM[/I][/sub][sup][right][b]Issue #2:[/b] [url=https://youtu.be/DtD80Vo_6_Y][i]Night Driving Avenger[/i][/url][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][B]Interaction(s):[/B] [I]None[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [I][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5079303]Divide[/url][/I][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color]
I give the old drunk a sharp shove and he lands ass first on the pavement. [color=olivedrab][b]"What the fuck, Sage?"[/b][/color] Roscoe asks, standing up and rubbing his rear end with a wince.

[color=slateblue][b]"You know exactly what the fuck, Roscoe. You sent me after some teenage wannabe thugs squatting in a warehouse? The hell happened to that drug racket you were babbling on about?"[/b][/color] I pick him up off the ground by the collar, sticking my face inches away from his. Smelling the stale whiskey on his breath is almost enough to make me want to drop him, but this way I can clearly show how pissed off I am.

[color=olivedrab][b]"Come on, you gotta... Start small on this sorta thing. You can't go right into the big leagues. I was tryin' to... Test you?"[/b][/color] His words are uncertain, phrased like a question. I shake my head and growl in frustration.

[color=slateblue][b]"You had no damn clue what was going on in that warehouse, did you?"[/b][/color]

[color=olivedrab][b]"I... Wouldn't say [i]that[/i]."[/b][/color]

[color=slateblue][b]"Oh, so you lied to my face, is that it?"[/b][/color]

[color=olivedrab][b]"I... Yeah, okay? I did. I used to sleep in that warehouse Vic, those damn punks drove me off. I wanted you to get rid of 'em, y'know? You have to have a little sympathy in your heart!"[/b][/color] At that, I pinch my nose, sigh, and release my grip on Roscoe's collar. He falls to the floor again with a grunt.

[color=slateblue][b]"One of these days I'm gonna kill you, you damn old coot..."[/b][/color] I pull out my pack of cigarettes, pluck one in between my lips, light it, and take a drag. I blow out a puff of smoke into Roscoe's face and he gags.

[color=olivedrab][b]"Jesus, Vic,"[/b][/color] he coughs out. [color=olivedrab][b]"Those things kill, y'know?"[/b][/color]

[color=slateblue][b]"So does that cheap booze you drink."[/b][/color] I take another drag. [color=slateblue][b]"There anything else you want me to take care of, Roscoe? Maybe some other hobo stole your cardboard box."[/b][/color]

Roscoe gives a snort, but I can tell there's something he's thinking about. [color=olivedrab][b]"... Maybe. I overheard some guys talking when they were leaving a restaurant. I was in the alley next to it, you know, just minding my own business..."[/b][/color]

[color=slateblue][b]"Digging through the trash?"[/b][/color]

Roscoe sneers but otherwise doesn't deign to respond. [color=olivedrab][b]"And these two guys walk out. They looked normal enough, but I couldn't help but hear them talking about their plans for tonight. Something about hitting Al's. You know the place?"[/b][/color] I hum in acknowledgment. An old convenience store on O'Neil Street, run by this old guy named Al. Strangely, he says it's short for William. [color=olivedrab][b]"Though they could have been talking about their buddy Al's or something..."[/b][/color]

[color=slateblue][b]"Well, I'll check it out anyway. If you're wrong, I guess I'll only have myself to blame for listening to you again."[/b][/color] I pull out my wallet and hand Roscoe a twenty. [color=slateblue][b]"Don't spend it all in one place."[/b][/color]

He snatches the money greedily, hugging it tightly to his chest. [color=olivedrab][b]"Thanks, Vic. You're a pain in the ass but at least you pay good."[/b][/color] Sticking the money in his back pocket, Roscoe walks out of the alley and around the corner.

[color=slateblue][b]"Feeling's mutual. Bastard..."[/b][/color] I sigh, then leave the alley myself. I check my watch: only 6:26. Guess I'll be staking out Al's for the next couple of hours. Getting into my car, I start it up and begin the drive to O'Neil Street.
[hr]
The stakeout was, to put it simply, boring as all hell. It took all my willpower to not drive off and find something else. Part of me knew that this was going to amount to nothing, but I held out anyway, hoping against hope that this would be the time his info was completely correct. The hours ticked by slowly, ever so slowly, each second seeming to last days...

11:19 PM. I finish off the fourth and last energy drink I had brought, but at this point it's starting to feel like I've built up a resistance to them. If anything, [url=https://youtu.be/DtD80Vo_6_Y?t=19]the music playing[/url] is doing more to keep me going than any sort of caffeine. This one's an old favorite I first heard back in high school, and I feel myself bob my head back and forth to the beat. At least I've got something to keep me entertained.

11:20 PM. A beat up old hatchback pulls up to Al's. Two men step out, then slide on ski masks. Shit. Guess Roscoe was right after all. [color=slateblue][b]"Goddammit, of course it had to be during this one..."[/b][/color] I kill the stereo. I wait until they head in, then turn the car off. I open the door and slide out. Time for some vigilante justice.

I stride slowly towards the store from across the street, peeking in through the windows. Between shelves of chips and other assorted snacks I can make out one of the men pulling a pistol on Al while the other heads around the counter to enter the register. Al, an older guy with balding gray hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses, simply rolls his eyes and sticks his hands in the air. Probably done this whole song and dance dozens of times in his life.

I pull the door open, a soft [i]ding[/i] indicating my entrance to the robbers. The one with the gun spins around, setting his sights on me. Behind his mask, two blue eyes narrow at my own. [b]"Who the hell are you?"[/b]

I raise my hands and put a slur into my voice, [color=slateblue][b]"Woah, like, take it easy, guy. I'm like, just here for a midnight snack, bro..."[/b][/color] I slowly lower my hands and stare at him, squinting my eyes. Hopefully he underestimates me, thinks I'm some dumb stoner trying to get some snacks. [color=slateblue][b]"Yo, you guys are real, right? Did Jeff lace my shit?"[/b][/color]

The gunman groans and steps forward, placing the barrel of his pistol against my head. [b]"Back the fuck up, buddy. Turn around and leave, or I'm blowing your brains out all over the floor."[/b]

[color=slateblue][b]"Woah, easy, easy!"[/b][/color] His elbow is locked as he points the gun at me. Bad idea. [color=slateblue][b]"I'll go, but like..."[/b][/color] I make my move, grabbing his wrist with both hands and twisting the gun away. He shouts and fires, the bullet going wide and hitting a bag of Doritos which explodes, sending bits of nacho cheese chips and orange dust flying everywhere. Keeping my left hand on his wrist, I ram my right palm up into his elbow, a gnarly [b]CR-[i]CRACK![/i][/b] telling me all I need to know. Nasty break.

With a scream the gunman falls to the floor and his pistol disappears under the racks. I kick him in the chest, then sprint at the counter. Vaulting over it, I try to use the motion to kick the other robber in the chest. He manages to sidestep out of the way and I find myself landing on my back with a grunt. He raises a foot up to stomp on my face, but I roll away and right into Al. The old man falls on the floor with a shout of surprise.

I jump up onto my feet and catch a fist to the side of the head, sending me reeling back and right into the cash register. I steady myself, ducking under another wild punch before retaliating with a quick uppercut. His head snaps back from the force and I take the opportunity to tackle him, sending us both to the floor. As he struggles beneath my grasp, I raise my fist up and slam it hard onto his face once, twice, three times. Blood spurts from his nose and leaks out of his mask, and he groans before going limp underneath me.

I crawl off the second robber and look at Al, who has gotten up and is readjusting his glasses. [b]"Thanks, I guess. But I was dealing with them. Didn't need you stepping in and messing shit up."[/b]

I shrug, glancing at him. [color=slateblue][b]"I was just in the area, figured I'd stop in and help like the good Samaritan I am. Not asking for thanks."[/b][/color]

[b]"Well you'll get none from me. Got a bullet in one of my racks. Gonna have to order a new one to replace it."[/b] He reaches for a phone and dials up 911. [b]"Now get out of here, before the cops get here. I'll keep an eye on these two bozos."[/b]

[color=slateblue][b]"Don't have to tell me twice."[/b][/color] With those words, I turn towards the door and make my leave.