You know, I was actually planning on writing chapter one this weekend since I have essays to turn in.
...
But I started early, and here we are! Part two already written. I'm going to try and get this out by Sunday, but I might not be able to. Still, I'll try my best to deliver. Part two will be mostly introducing who SnD is and the confusion of the reader but Stro's response. But I won't spoil anything more.
Again, if their dialogue is colored or shrunken, they are important/reoccurring characters. With exception for you.
Setting: Dandy's Block Universe. As implied, it takes place right after Shanks got arrested because of SnD.
Warnings\~/Promises for the Series: Yandere/Snd, Trans Man yet AFAB reader (specific request), he/they pronouns used, obsessive behavior, narcissism, canon interaction between SnD and Shanks as backstory, masturbation, smut, murder/death, rotting bodies, panic attacks, assault(obvi, if there's murder and death), a lot of cussing(we're in a gang like area, aka the hood), Stro does not wanna be awake... ever, drug mention/use, slightly gore-y descriptions, torture, etc.
Of course, being in the hood, the place would most likely have no janitors nor would clean people live there, but you didn't expect actual fucking rotting corpses to litter the floor.
It was disgusting. In all actuality, this apartment looked like the back of a horror movie-dumpster. There were maggots, flies and other bugs everywhere, blood smeared on the wall, organs splattered against various surfaces throughout the house, trash and rotted food fucking everywhere, and last but NOT least, the chandelier on the ceiling was shattered. Fucking shattered. You were gonna have to invest in lamps.
You had to hold your breath as you walked in, barely able to not vomit at the stench. But as soon as you stepped in, you couldn't handle it. You ran downstairs and straight to Dara, the receptionist. "Hey. Dara, right? I have shit memory. Um, do you have any cleaning supplies? My apartment looks like a goddamn murder site if someone vomited the mass of Neptune," you spat.
Dara gazed at you with surprise and amusement, then annoyance. She looked over her shoulder, yelling, "ROOOOOOSE! GET OUT HERE!" A few slow moments later, a girl in a simple tangtop and genes emerged, long curly black hair flowing down her back in a high ponytail.
"Yeah?" The girl, apparently named Rose, asked.
"Why is room 102 not cleaned? I told you to get it done a week ago." Dara demanded, hand on her hip as she looked down at the short bratty teen.
Rose simply looked at her nails, not caring. "Oh yeah, I didn't want to."
"Bitch what do you think you're here for? I'm cutting ya pay." Dara snapped, aggravated.
Rose whined. "Nooo! Then how will I get my next hair-do?"
"You won't. Now get your ass back to work and I might consider giving it back."
"Ugh, fiiiiiine..." Rose dragged her feet as she approached the janitors cleaning cart, wheeling it over to the elevator and carting up.
"It works..?" you ask Dara softly.
"No," she replies. A few moments later, an annoyed Rose exits the elevator and slowly carries the cart up the stairs, mumbling curses as she goes.
As Rose disappeared behind the stairwell, Dara turned around and started fishing through room descriptions to find one which was open. "I'm so sorry about her, she can be quite... irresponsible. I'll get you a new room." She promised, fetching a room key. "Here, room 115. Please, lemme know if you have any complaints. You're, like, the one customer I can tolerate." She chuckle, amused by the fact that an actually good person was in this hotel.
"Alright, well thank you!" You exclaim, hurrying off to the stairs.
Dara smiles calmly as she looks back at her computer. Her smile instantly drops. "Did I just... shit!" she reaches a hand to where you were retreating. "Wait, Tammy-!" You had already disappeared down the hall, and Dara was unable to warn you that you were across the hall from Silent n Deadly.
Luckily, this room was much cleaner. It wasn't pristine, but it was better than the trash heap you were just in and already had furniture. Crappy furniture, but furniture.
In the living room there was an old red sofa with a footrest in the middle of the room, a TV opposite to the couch, a tall black lamp that emitted an orange light when you pulled the chain in the corner, dark tan walls and same color carpeted floors. Wooden shelves adorned the walls surrounding the couch except for the one which had the TV, two hallways separating it from the other walls and into the rest of the apartment. Directly behind the sofa, there was a small table that had a panel of wood to make it have a top and bottom shelf as well as the top surface. It looked... actually comfy.
You walked around cautiously, still scared of what the rest of the apartment's state would be after that jump scare with the previous one. You slowly entered the kitchen, surprised that it was only dirty. There were your needed appliances in there: the stove, dishwasher, and fridge with a water/ice dispenser. The floors were tiled marble and table tops polished oak wood. The hallways cut off at one end, but continued to reveal two doors: the bedroom and the storage closet at the end of the hall.
The bedroom had one queen sized bed in the middle against the far wall, no windows since no one wanted windows in the hood. You never knew how far some fuckers would go. Beside the bed was one nightstand, another lamp identical to the one in the living room in the corner, and a simple closet in the wall. There was also a wooden dresser with five drawers.
"Not bad... better than I could do," you mused, excited at the fact you now practically had a functional apartment. In your pent up excitement, you flopped onto the bed, giggling. You mulled over how your life changed so much in just a few hours and the day wasn't even done yet. You got a wad of cash, a job, and a home. A chaotic, crappy home, but a home; one with furniture, no less. That was better than almost nothing. This along with the fact that you now had a good source of income from Stro made you feel pretty good.
Speaking of, you should check in with Stro. Get more details on the job and see if he got any clients you need to meet yet.
After getting more clothes. That would be important.
You hopped up, renewed energy coursing through you as you headed to go shopping. As you walked out of your apartment, you saw ribbon disappear behind the door across from yours as it closed. "Weird..." you thought. Not giving it a second thought, you closed the door behind you, locked it, and turned to leave.
Lost in your thoughts of what to do, you didn't see those familiar soulless eyes exit the door again and bore into you back with an intensity that might have terrified you if you'd noticed.
Turns out, the hood wasn't too far away from a busy business street. Food stalls, restaurants, malls, stores of all kinds littered the area. You went crazy, looking at all the fashionable stuff, then buying outfits that wouldn't make you stand out: loose t-shirts, baggy pants, collared jackets, and one cheap suit in case you ever had to look presentable. You would buy more stylish outfits but you didn't exactly have a safe job to wear whatever you wanted, now did you? Besides, your money was practically borrowed from Stro.
You didn't know why he decided to toss you a wad of cash, but he did, so you had to spend it wisely. Buy stuff to use at the new job he gave you, maybe a bullet proof vest if you could find one.
You look at the window outside of the clothing shop you were currently in. You saw a bakery across from you.
Fuck wisely, there's pastries.
Hurriedly checking out with the clothes you decided fit best with your occupation, you went over to the bakery, picking up some sour tarts to eat on the way back to your apartment. The brown paper bag was filled with a lemon cake, a small package of sour patch kids, and a small strawberry crepe cake. You knew you should buy things like groceries and utensils, pots, pans, more bedding, and lamps, but you had to get snacks first. Then you could buy the essentials.
Slightly annoyed that you'd have to wait to eat your freshly bought pastries and candy, you finally shop for necessities. You get hygiene products like soap and toilet paper for the bathroom. Then cooking pots, pans, silverware, measuring spoons, measuring cups, plates, bowls, cups, etc. for the kitchen. You got pillows for your bed and the couch, cleaning supplies, an extra few blankets, and paper/pens/pencils.
The bags dug into your arms as you tried to take a shorter route to the hotel, deciding to map out the different paths later. You finally got to the lobby, red marks showing from the bags' vivid imprints on you. Dara just glanced at you, looking back at her computer as she saw you jog up the staircase.
By the time you reached your apartment, you dropped the bags of essentials on the floor, closing your door and flopping onto the old couch. Finally, finally, you could relax. You hadn't gotten any groceries, so there was nothing to put away immediately. You could enjoy yourself a bit before continuing.
As you opened the brown paper bag and rushed to take a bite of the lemon tart, you thought about what to do tomorrow. Tomorrow, you could probably go shopping for books and then visit Spro; ask him about that guy you saw a few hours ago. Then, a few things could occur: You could get groceries, start your new job, or catch up on sleep. But that would be decided tomorrow; day of.
For now, you finished the tart and ate about half of the strawberry crepe cake, saving the rest. You would eat more, but you should probably save it for breakfast. Now it was time to put away the house supplies and then go to bed.
You groaned at the realization that you forgot to buy bins to put some of the stuff in. So for now, you folded the blankets and put them on the second lowest shelf in the storage closet, a shelf above that was the papers, pens, and pencils. The shelf above that was left empty, and the one above that held cleaning supplies. The shelf above that, the top shelf, held the large and newly opened packages of toilet paper and paper towels as you carried a roll of toilet paper to you bathroom.
You set up the toiletries and all hygiene products, getting your soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, perfume, etc. in the bathroom. You set up a shower curtain, and then put the shampoo, soap bar, and conditioner in the little pocket on the side.
Next was the kitchen. You stacked pots from biggest to smallest in one cupboard, then pans similarly in the one next to it. On the top pantries, you put the bowls, plates, and cups up, saving one cupboard for spices. You filled the drawers with measuring cups, spoons, forks, butter knives, spoons, and large cooking utensils.
With that done, it was time to flop on your bed. You didn't even care to change the blanket, too tired to remember the fact that the janitor Rose was incompetent. So, you blacked out, spent from the day's unexpected events and desperate to catch up on sleep.
Silent took control of their body most of the time, so it wasn't a surprise when he felt the urge to see what you were doing upon glancing at you in the hallway. Both Silent and Deadly's eyes bore into your back, curious about why you'd left your room. You'd only arrived 30 minutes ago, after all.
Knowing the consequences of Slient taking an interest in someone, Deadly urged him inside. Silent obliged, but not after one lasting glance at your retreating form.
He didn't even know your name yet and he was still so intrigued by your demeanor. It pissed him off, having his thoughts plagued by someone he didn't want to kill. It made him feel different; vulnerable, and that was unacceptable.
"Deadly, how the fuck should we deal with that boy? We don't even know him and my mind is falling apart," Silent growled, heavily aggravated by his body's reaction to the newcomer.
"Silent, I don't really think there's much we can do. I overheard their conversation with the receptionist, Dara, and..." Deadly sputtered, trying to stay calm and not annoy his twin any further.
"What is it?" Silent's eye narrow, ribbon neck untwisting as he moved his head towards Deadly's.
"Well, they are under the protection of Stro," He finishes.
Silent bangs his fist into the wall, murmuring curses as he falls onto his worn-out couch. "Damn it... and we can't ruin our connection with him... Believe it or not, I like the guy. Shit..."
"I know you'll hate the suggestion but... we could try to ignore him?" Deadly starts, voice level and calm.
"That's really all we can do..." Silent murmurs, eyes staring intensely into space as he fails to rid his thoughts of that damn newcomer.
heyy, it's meee, yall know dandy's block, right? A popular au of if dandy's world characters were in the hood? I wanted to make an oc sooo, here she is!
she is a chubby moth:3 but I needs names because im running out of ideas-
Part 3! I wanted to get this done by last weekend, but this one is a much longer chapter with more plot points, so it took longer to write than I wanted.
This part is going to be tensions building between Snd and Tammy(you) with a protective Stro :3.
Reminder, if their dialogue is colored or shrunken, they are important/reoccurring characters. With exception for you.
Prompt: You and Stro are childhood friends. Stro offers you a job as his middleman, and you accept.
Setting: Dandy's Block Universe. As implied, it takes place right after Shanks got arrested because of SnD.
Warnings\~/Promises for the Series: Yandere/Snd, Trans Man yet AFAB reader (specific request), he/they pronouns used, obsessive behavior, narcissism, masturbation, smut, murder/death, rotting bodies, panic attacks, attempted self harm, self harm scars, trauma, assault(obvi, if there's murder and death), cussing(We're in a gang like area, aka the hood), drug mention/use, slightly gore-y descriptions, torture, hyperventilation, etc.
*
TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter includes sensitive content including mental breakdowns, attempted self harm, scars, extreme traumatic reactions, death of a close friend, etc. If you are not comfortable with this, or it relates too closely with a personal experience, viewer discretion is advised.
*
The trees were gorgeous. They always looked that way in spring, the yellow leaves glimmering in the sunlight as mangos began to grow. A soft hand brushed against your cheek, causing you to relax further into the comforting grass beneath you. Her white dress swayed in the moonlight, her gentle voice ringing out through your closed eyes. "Oh silly Tammy... you fell asleep at the tree roots again."
It was so calm. So soothing. She had always been your safe place, the person you could rely on. You wouldn’t trade her for the world.
You opened your eyes to meet hers, but there was nothing there. No eyes. No features. You couldn't remember it. Her blank face started to distort, voice starting to fade as she moved father and farther away from you. You couldn't remember her eyes, her smile, there was nothing left. It was all dark, she was leaving, fading, dying-
You awoke with a gasp, heart hammering against your ribcage. "...fucking hell.." you murmur. It was the same nightmare you'd been having for years and continued to haunt you. Her voice... It felt so long ago now that details eluded you. Her eyes, her smile, the way she dresses, her voice.. they all seemed to disappear with time as your memory of her faded slowly.
She'd burned, her body creating an incense which haunted you for years. Your bottom lip quivered, the last one at her death as she burned, roasted and turning to ash before your eyes. One strip of her favorite white silk dress clutched on your hands as you could only stare. Frozen, you collapsed, legs giving out as the fire stretched into something large and terrifying, digesting your childhood best friend. You could still hear her screams, the way she cried out when the village chose to ignore her, leaving her trapped in that burning house and letting her die. Suffer.
If only there was something you could have done... if only...
Tears pricked at your eyes and fell without your consent. Your shaky arms gripped each other, pathetic sounds of anguish leaving your lips as you cried, broke down as you remembered what a terrible night that had been. Your nails dug into your skin, eyes clamped shut like you were mad at the world as you yelled out a gutteral cry, soon curling into yourself and sobbing.
Your trembling hand reached for your phone, checked the time. "12:47..." You unsteadily texted Stro, unstable.
-*
Text Messages: Stro 🌘
Tammy(You): Hey, Stro? Mind if I come over?
Stro: Tammy, what the fuck- It’s not even 1 am da fuck you wanna come over for?
Tammy(You): Don’t question it. Now can I come over or not?
Stro: Fucking- Fine. Just get here safe, alright?
-*
You slowly get out of bed, dark eyebags under your eyes and eyelids drooping. You turned to see your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, almost surprised by the fact that you looked like a dead man if not for the fact you had horrible sleep and a bitchy personality when you were grumpy. Tears stained your face, more still falling like a dam had opened that you couldn't close by the anger and sorrow pulsing through your body.
You had to grip the walls for support, needing to ground yourself. Heading to the kitchen, you finish off that strawberry crepe cake and throw away the container, then grope back to your room to change. Your outfit was simple: a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants; comfy and able to wear outside. It was enough to look normal outside at least.
You make your way over to the doors of your apartment, leaving and shoving the keys into your pocket after locking the doors. Walking through the hallway, which was shrouded in dark, encompassing and suffocating shadows, you took a good look at how the building was treated. You weren't surprised to see numerous stains and cuts on the walls. Surprisingly, for your uneasiness around blood, you started to get used to the violence here. Key word started. There was still a ways to go until you could actually get used to the horror movie set that was the hood.
Pulling your hoodie up and over your head and having your hands in your pockets, you groggily continued walking over to Stro's house. That nightmare hadn't done well with you, reminding you of how you lost your sister. It had always haunted you, and the nightmares didn't help. She was always out of your grasp, no matter how hard you tried...
But there was nothing you could do now except try not to die. "Live a life for her and you," you'd said at her grave, "Live a life happy enough so she could live on in you."
You turn the corner after passing more drug addicts in the alleyways, ignoring them. Stro's house wasn't far, so you weren't in a rush, but you didn't want to deal with those kinds of people. Not in the state of mind you were in.
Soon enough, after a few minutes, you stepped up to his door. You didn't even wait for him to answer after knocking, letting yourself in. "Hey Stro," you mumbled, sitting down at his dining room table with a soft tired sigh.
"What’s the matter with you? Why'd you text at 1 in the goddamn morning?” he asked plainly, scowling since he was grumpy while walking to the kitchen to start brewing a pot of coffee.
"Nightmare... of Coltere,” You murmured, tired from the amount of trauma reentering your brain. She was such a lovely friend, her body burned…
His expression dropped instantly to one of surprise and tense worry. He wasn't expecting that response. "Shit, that explains it," Stro grumbled, glancing at you with cautious empathy. "I know that's rough. But, to change the topic hopefully, what did you want to see me for?"
You would normally quirk a small smile at his helpful antics, but your expression stayed stuck on trying not to break down. "I just wanted to know when I might get my first client and what the particulars of this job are."
"Justified," he reasons. "You'll be getting a burner phone, for one. And I trust you to drive anywhere, or walk. Walking isn't preferable, but cars are expensive, and the streets here are dangerously narrow," he reasoned, pausing as the coffee machine sputtered as it poured out the coffee.
"A burner phone? Interesting, but not too out of the ordinary." You were actually kind of nervous about the job, not knowing what to expect of the particulars but trying to understand.
"A burner phone is important for clients' numbers, since they shouldn't have you actual info." He walked over with two cups of coffee, both plain black. "This is because your job will essentially make you the middle man; save me from danger while putting you in it. My clientele is made up of very dangerous individuals which often have anger issues. They can also get angry, and no matter how good I am at fighting I'd rather not go against some of the groups in this area."
"Wait, so why'd you hire me for this?" You ask with a confused and judgmental expression.
"You can keep a secret, are a wonderful liar, and happen to look terrifying when you're pissed." A smirk plays on his lips, as if proudly amused of the last fact. He soon drops it though, not sure if it was appropriate for the pretense of your visit to him.
"You had no one else better?"
"No one that needed a job." he mused.
"Fair enough. Burner phone, I'll be in danger constantly, yata yata. So, I'll be collecting your money from costumers and giving them the products?"
"Yep."
"And what do you sell?"
"...I'll keep that confidential for now." He was worried, almost hesitant if you'd accept that answer. You didn't. Your eyes darkened, a silent challenge for him to continue playing with you. He took the hint, caving. "Illegal shit. Drugs, weapons, fake info, poisons, whatever is requested. I'm the supplier, and I don't disappoint."
"..." You didn't ask where he got that shit from. Didn't want nor need to know. "Alright. Anyone I need to be especially weary of?"
Stro thought for a moment. "No more than usual. If there's anyone on business suits, tho, be careful. They're probably important."
"No shit," you scoff, thinking for a moment. You remembered how that one guy(guys?) in the apartment hallway had gazed at you. Would they be the type to shop from Stro? "Hey, can I ask you about someone?"
"Sure, what do they look like?" He asked, not prepared for the description.
"I only saw them in passing but they looked taller than you, I think, and conjoined twins: they have two head. Two people, one body." Stro froze. "One had a manic smile on his face, and the other a closed off and distant expression with noticeable and permanent-seeming tears streaks." You looked back over to him, watching his hands tremble around the mug he held way too tight.
His eyes almost glowed with an intensity that could only be described as terrifying. "Stay away from him." he rasped, gaze and tone almost enough to paralyze you where you were.
"Why, is he like a mafia member or something..?" you inquire cautiously, almost scared for his reply.
"No, he is simply... insane, and I will not have you interacting with him. His violent tendencies do not help with that." His voice was more
controlled, but no less worrisome.
"Got it, I'll stay away..." you would ask more, but decided better of it. "Do I have a first client yet?"
"Oh, yeah." He was relieved by the change in topics. "You'll be meeting him today, actually. At 7 pm."
"Got it. Am I giving the product and collecting the money?"
"Yep. See me at around 6:30 so I can get you the product and a map of alternative routes." His gaze was softer on you now, taking a small sip of his coffee before making eye contact. "And try to sleep well."
"No promises..." You left your half finished cup of coffee on his dining room table, patting him on the head before all he could see was your back retreating to the doors with steady, tired steps. "Cya."
"See you..." he murmured, worried as you left his house and went back to your apartment at 1 in the morning, still coming to terms with how your conversation ended.
You were in a shitty mood all day, actually fitting with the environment on the hood.
The drug addicts on the street who normally gazed at you with sick intent avoided your gaze, not seeing a weak boy but a pissed weapon. Because that's what you were. You were in depression mode, a mode which made you instantly dangerous to anyone who decided to fuck around and find out.
You spent most of the day carding through your traumatic memories, in a state of constant hyperventilation as you sat stuck on your bed, muscles tense and vibrating as you went through 'what if's and trapped in that horrid mental state of blaming yourself.
"I didn't help, they didn't help, I just watched her burn, I could have helped, carried her out, been with her that day. If only I hadn't listened, if only I'd been there to stop it. She was killed, burned alive, and I just watched her and her house crumble..."
They were loud, fast, causing you to try and claw out your brain, your eyes, tears streaming as you screamed and yelled and sobbed. Your throat burned, your eyes feeling like acid as tears forced themselves through, leaving you dry and broken.
Loud, ear shattering screams turned to harsh cries, turned to quiet sobs, turned to whimpers. And eventually, curled in on yourself, you finally passed out after 10 hours of staying awake and not blinking for minutes straight, murdering your emotional health.
You awoke at 6pm, having set an alarm on your old Samsung, it's cracked screen glowing with that annoying ringtone you so hated. You slowly sat up, feeling heavy and emotionless. Dragging your feet over to the kitchen, you grabbed a glass of cold water, wincing as it slowly started to soothe your sore throat. You brushed your hair slowly, taking your time with each and every moment as to not stress yourself.
"He said meet at 6:30..." you mumble, noticing how your voice was still slightly hoarse. You had bags under your eyes and tear stains on your cheeks. Not a good image, even if you were the middle man. While this would be your first client, you didn't want to look weak. It was bad for business.
You'd already thought out the statistics, putting on a loose black button up and black pants. It wasn't too fancy, but enough to look professional and intimidating in the right light. You left your short hair mostly messy, and rolled up your sleeves to reveal the scars which spanned from your wrists to under the sleeve. With that, you left your apartment.
Only a few people lingered in the hallway and the hallway, giving you curious and cautious glances as you passed. Dara seemed surprised by your intense aura but didn't comment, simply taking the ten dollars you tossed onto her desk.
You didn't think, simply surveying the area directly in front of you with a confidence that belied your demeanor yesterday. As soon as you arrived at Stro's house, you knocked in a pattern and entered, knowing he was expecting you since your traditional watch told you it was 6:32.
"Hey," you greeted, voice gruff.
"Hey. Ready to talk about the client?"
"No," you remark calmly, standing near the edge of his dining room table.
He smiled temporarily at your sarcasm, quickly regaining his permanent tired expression. "He isn't too dangerous, just a young adult who's into drugs. Has the features of a fan, is a bit of a flirt, and overall not too bad compared to other guys in the area. Still be careful."
"Yeah, I'm strapped," you remark, lifting your shirt slightly to show the knife and gun holders which were hidden under the baggy-ness of you black button up.
"Perfect. Take the back alley down to just behind the large stone wall and alcohol shop."
"K. Anything else before you give me the product?"
"Nope. For this," he hands you a wooden which most likely had drug powder inside. "You'll be collecting about $150. There ain't too much in there, but enough to keep him hooked. Make sure it's all there."
"Which drug?"
"Dopamine," Stro responded casually. "Return to me by the 30."
There was a weird familiarity about this back area. The dirty stone walls, trashed streets, and drowned out sun for some reason didn't faze you, even though the blood stains on the sidewalk were fresh. The atmosphere didn't surprise you somehow. You didn't linger on that thought too long though, for you soon arrived at the designated area.
You checked your watch. "6:59... 7:00." On the dot, you heard footsteps approaching. "Damn, he's efficient." You thought, hands in your pockets as you took in the client's form.
He indeed did have the features of a fan, but didn't look bad. His ears were fans, his hair a low ponytail of braided black cords. His skin was a dark gray, eyes a metalic silver as they bore into your own. He wore a suit for some reason, but it fit him well, making him look refined.
You smiled and acted like you were enjoying his company, mask perfectly forged. "Hey there! Got the money?" you ask, straightforward and decisive.
"Yeah, I do. Who are you, exactly?" He asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes you in. His muscular form wasn't too imposing, as he wasn't too much larger than you, but you still kept at the ready.
"No one important. Think of me as the trader, simply here to guide interactions between customer and supplier." Your voice was smooth, tone interactive while giving him nothing to use against you. You gave a small bow for theatrics and put your hand out for the money.
"You're a direct person, aren't you?" He mused, putting a hundred and a fifty dollar bill in your hands. You stuffed them into your pocket.
"Perfect~ Now, here you go." You hand him the box, planning each moment, movement, and pitch of your voice to relay your exact message of mysterious yet trustworthy. And it worked.
The man chuckled while walking, waving his hand as he headed off back into a different alley. You dropped the smile as soon as he left your view, heading back down the alleyway which you came from. But it wasn't exactly a peaceful trip.
You continued walking down the dirt path, but soon stopped after an opening. Sighing, you turned your head to look over your shoulder. "You know, following people isn't polite. You could've asked to interact."
Sure enough, a few guys with large builds and guns/knives emerged, one burly guy walking up to you. "You noticed us, ey? Got good senses."
"Anyone could tell with how loud your steps are." That was partly it, but the bloodlust and their eyes boring into your back really gave it away. Your gaze was sharp, and annoyed, body turning to fully face the group of 8, no, 9 men.
"My apologies. Though, I wasn't exactly trying to be quiet." He took a step forward, emerald eyes gazing into yours with murderous intent. He took his gun and tried to tilt your chin up with it, womanizing you, but you stole the gun from his relaxed grip and steadied your grip to shoot his dead in an instant. The sound of him falling registered before the hole in his forehead, and then blood started to pool. You just sighed, stepping your heel into the guys open, bleeding jaw, crushing it.
"You know, I normally hate blood... it's such a pain to clean up, and normally not a pretty sight." You start with an animated tone, watching as the others tried to recover from their shock. You simply brought the gun up again, gaze cold and uncaring while you trapped them in the icy cage known as fear. "Too bad I don't give a shit right now."
Gunshots filled the air, then the sound of bodies falling. Your icy cage was now painted red, One guy managed to shoot before dying, managing to graze your cheek with his bullet. The sting didn't bother you. You decided to search their bodies, taking their cash and weapons. You put that money in a different pocket that what was due to Stro, heading over to his house.
A figure in the shadows smirked, entertained as he lingered for a moment then left, liking this new trader. Cords filled the space where he was for a second before falling in line down his back, heading to tell Silent n Deadly about the exciting new man in town.
Stro's eyebrows raised high and eyes opened like he'd seen a deity he didn't believe in. "Tammy, what in the fuck..."
You knew you probably had some blood splatter on you, and the cut on your cheek from a bullet would have been unexpected. Since you normally weren't too violent, he wasn't expecting you to come back looking like you went on a murder spree. "Some bitches didn't like the new hire, and I don't take complaints well." You sauntered over, one hand in your pocket and the other tossing his due money in front of him. "Have fun with that. Got my next gig? Wanna get a schedule and stay busy."
"Well I can't promise you'll be busy, but I'll call you about the details. For now... how about you patch up that cut? Guest bathroom, third shelf." He regarded you with caution and a sense of pride that you were able to stay formidable.
"Bet." You wordlessly walked towards the small hallway in Spro's house which lined up with the farthest chair at the dining room table. You entered the first door on the right, welcoming the dim light as you grabbed the small container on the third shelf. It was right where Stro said it would be, you mused as you patched up the wound. Soon enough, you exited the restroom and went back to Stro. "Anything else?"
"Nope, not that I can think of. You did well, nice job. I wasn't expecting you to shoot people dead on your first day, but I'm not disappointed." He sounded proud, which you knew why. Made you a good hire, and a more entertaining friend.
"See ya later."
"Bye." His smirk didn't drop until you left, Stro's expression turning serious as he clicked the call option.
"Heyo~! What do you need, Stro?" Silent's voice answered, his always-manic-ecstatic tone no longer able to surprise Stro.
"Hey. We need to talk. Immediately."
"No problem. Lemme just..." There was a scream followed by the sound of chocking, most likely on blood, in the background. "Alright, I'll be over in a bit." And Silent hung up.
Stro leaned back in his chair, contemplating. He was unsure if he should introduce you two or make sure you never interact. Either way, your life could be in danger... He just had to hope Silent and his brother Deadly would be agreeable for once.
Stro walked slowly over to his small kitchen, blanket discarded on the dining room chair he was just sitting in. His black T-shirt showed off his defined figure, the power in his frame obvious without the cover he near always had on. His expression was as serious and tired as it usually was, but with a hint of malice. A bloodlust that wouldn't be quenched unless he had his way, and only that.
He just pressed start on his coffee machine before the door burst open. "Stro!" A familiarly and annoying voice called in a sickly manic tone. "What'd you need me for?"
"Silent, you are way too fucking much..." Deadly sighed.
"Glad to hear it. Now, what do you want?" Silent closed the door, eyes slightly narrowed in curiosity and a dark intrigue as he regarded Stro being without his cover.
Stro kept his back to silent, glaring at the blue wall with a hatred that bordered on goddamn murderous intent. "Silent..." He started slowly, muscles flexing as his entire body tensed with his words. "I need you to stay away from this one boy. He's about 5'7, medium length hair, musical themed clothes, and works for me. You won't touch him, understand..?"
Silent's smirk widened, Deadly regarding Stro with a wary but determined gaze. "And why would we do that..? They're intriguing, and even one of my own connections told me about this new interesting character. You're a good friend, but they're just an employee." Silent said, as if he weren't trying and failing to stay away from Tammy. Deadly rolled his eyes at his conjoined twin's antics, but didn't deny like he usually would. He kept quiet, having the same mindset as his brother.
It was at that moment that the already tense atmosphere became suffocating, Stro looking over his shoulders with eyes wide and murderous. His eyes seemed to glow a chilling frostbite blue in the shadows of his face, his muscles tensing enough to make them bulge from enmity. Silent's forever-smile dropped, legitimately fearful of this new side of his friend. Never had Silent seen Stro so utterly pissed, consumed by an animosity that pierced both Silent and Deadly's wilting souls.
"You will stay away from them or I will gut you like the vermin you are. They are not to be hurt again, and I will not have you ruin their life!" Stro rushed to SnD with long strides, grabbing the collar of their Nike tech jacket. "Touch them and I will burn you. Hurt them and I will carve the eyes out of your porcelain masks and sell them. I will fucking torture you; STAY AWAY."
Silent was stunned, Deadly also shocked as they took in Stro's intimidating stance. They could tell he meant his words; he was fully prepared to kill them. Silent swallowed, eyes tinged with a vulnerability and mouth tilted downwards instead of up. "...why go so far..? Of what significance is that doll to you..?" His voice was soft, almost timid and completely out of character for the psycho manic he normally was.
Stro slowly released them, sitting down onto the chair across from Snd where his cover was. He ran a hand through his hair, expression pained and distant. "Tammy is my childhood best friend. We used to be a trio until one of us was burned alive in their home. That hit Tammy hard, and I could never help them well enough. They almost went insane, but I prevented it. I won't have them hurt again: I already failed them once."
He was sincere, genuinely feeling guilty for the death of Coltere. Stro slumped in his chair, bottom lip quivering slightly. It felt weird, seeing Stro start to cry. He was always so composed unless annoyed, but this... was different.
"Stro... I'm pretty sure that's the first thing you've told me about your childhood." Deadly mused with an empathetic frown, Silent seeming to be contemplating.
"We can try to ignore them. But if they make an effort to meet us, that's their fault." Silent finally spoke, brow furrowed and still frowning.
Stro's gaze hardened before relaxing, his sigh seeming to thaw the icy air from that interaction. "That's fine. Just don't hurt them and we're good. Do so, and I will not have mercy." His gaze froze the conjoined twins, but soon enough they were released by a dismissive wave of Stro's hand. "Leave. That is all I wished to say."
As they walked to and out the door, Silent thought of how to go about this, still trying to come to terms with that interaction. Deadly took control while Silent preoccupied himself with scenarios, Deadly getting them back to their apartment.
Stro, on the other hand, looked into his coffee cup he just grabbed from the coffee machine. he leaned back in his chair, looking to the ceiling as he murmured to himself, "I hope this goes well... if not, I don't know what I'll do."
Tammy was walking through the back alleys, trying to find his way back to the apartment complex. These paths were hard to navigate, and it made you regret not taking that map Stro offered.
When you turned the corner, you saw a dead body. He was male, looking like a young adult, maybe around 23. He was brutalized, cuts littering his body and blows almost fatal but drawn back at the last second to prolong his pain.
"This man must have really fucked up..." you thought, bending down to inspect the body. Closer, you saw he was peacock based someone, and the final blow had been led to the head. You saw a slice of ribbon in his hand, and cuts that, now that you looked closer and saw them better, were made when this man was resisting. You thought of all the men you'd met so far in the hood. "Ribbon..."
Your memory suddenly sparked, remembering the twin masks. Their necks were ribbon.
You took the ribbon and continued forward, determined to find out more about the linked twin mask men.
Finally done! This one took me a week and a half, so enjoy!
Chapter Four: there won’t be a chapter four for the foreseeable future. The friend I’d started making it for recently broke up with me, so I have no reason to continue writing it. I’m not even in this fandom. If anyone actually enjoyed it, you can message me or ask me to continue but otherwise it’ll stay unfinished.
