(Chapter 2 has been a ride, folks! A ride that hasn’t yet ended! The second part of part two has yet to be completed, but I figured the first part was ready for public display, so here we are. I’m kind of nervous about the end result, but oh well; we’ll see how this goes.)
(Warnings: Guns, gunfire, hangover, mention of being drunk)
(Note: The song mentioned, “I’ll Be Seeing you,” was written by Sammy Fain (That name!) with lyrics by Irving Kahal. It’s been performed by many famous singers, such as Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra. It’s a great song; I recommend it.)
It wasn’t that Sammy hated Henry’s side. Sure, Wally could be a pain sometimes, and Jack could be insufferable, but everyone else didn’t bother him. Henry was a good boss, if a little too lenient. The mob was efficiently run, and its men were highly capable. No, Sammy wasn’t a traitor because he didn’t like them, he just didn’t like them enough to stop spying on them for Joey.
Sammy sat up in bed, groaning slightly. His hangover was much better than it had been yesterday, but he still felt a dull ache just between his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sammy glanced about the sparsely furnished room. He’d spent the past two nights in Henry’s headquarters, being too hungover to walk home or report to Joey. Hopefully he won’t be too mad. Joey was a much stricter boss than Henry.
Maybe I’ll just lie and say they tightened security. Sammy reasoned, Joey might believe that.
Even in his hungover state, Sammy sensed the tension in the air. Everyone was waiting to see if Joey would attack. Sammy knew he probably would give some sort of demonstration of his power, but wasn’t sure how large scale it would be. As long as the bullets don’t hit me, I don’t care.
Pulling on his shoes, Sammy ran his fingers a few times through his long hair, before stepping into the hallway.
After showering and eating breakfast (which consisted of one can of bacon soup), Sammy felt almost normal. He descended down the stairs to the parlor. As he neared the bottom, piano music reached his ears, and he quickened his step.
Matt was sitting at the bench for the grand piano that nobody used except him and Sammy. The morning sun streaming through the window cast a pale light over him and the instrument. Matt was playing a wild tune, in an obvious attempt to relieve his stress. Sammy glanced toward the door. He wouldn’t be able to slip out to report to Joey till nightfall, so he might as well relax now.
He slid in beside Matt, who jumped, missing a note. The anxious musician turned to Sammy, before relaxing when he saw it was just his friend.
“Everyone’s so jumpy around here.” Sammy remarked.
“Yeah, well, it’s for good reason.” Matt replied, turning back to the piano, his fingers dancing along the keys, “None of us know when or if Joey will retaliate.”
Sammy looked down at the keyboard. Without even thinking about it, he began to play something in perfect harmony with what Matt was playing. Matt glanced at him, his solemn face lightening to give him a wan smile. The two musicians played their duet in perfect sync, years of practicing together taking hold. Sammy’s mind traveled back to the days when the two of them had performed at clubs together. It seemed a lifetime ago.
Without warning, Matt changed the key he was playing in, forcing Sammy to compensate. It was an old game they played, that had never grown old. Matt continued to randomly switch the key. Sammy missed a few notes, but for the most part was able to keep in harmony. At last, slightly breathless, Matt stopped.
“You’ve still got it.” He sounded more cheerful than before.
Sammy grinned, “I’ll never lose it.”
Matt smirked, resting his hands in his lap, “How’s your hangover?”
Shrugging, Sammy answered, “It’s not so bad anymore.” He knew what was coming next.
“I saw you when you came back the other night.” Matt’s smirk widened into a grin, “You were singing like a drunken sailor.”
Sammy rolled his eyes, pretending to be not at all embarrassed by the event, “I wasn’t that drunk.”
“I’ve seen you drunk before,” Matt continued, ignoring his friend, “but boy, were you drunk this time!”
Sammy pursed his lips, “Can we change the subject?”
“Nope!” Sammy nodded, understanding his plea would go unheeded. Knowing Matt, he’d probably find every possible way to bring this up for as long as he lived.
Or until I betray him. The thought snuck into Sammy’s mind and refused to leave. He knew Matt would one day discover Sammy had been betraying them, probably sooner than later. That was one of the snags in the plan. Sammy had no wish to betray Matt, but he was fine with betraying everyone else. Well, everyone else except Susie. She was the other snag.
Sammy tried to shake the guilt away; they didn’t know yet, so he might as well enjoy his time with them as long as he could. He quirked an eyebrow at Matt, “You’ve been plenty drunk before, too.”
“Yeah, except I could still walk and talk sensibly. Lacie had to drag you back while you babbled like a baby.”
Sammy opened his mouth to counter, but realized he had nothing to say, so instead crossed his arms and glared disgruntledly down at the keyboard. His friend seemed to sense he’d won this round of teasing, and began to play the piano again, humming contentedly. It was difficult for Sammy to remain angry when there was music to be played, so he soon joined in, and the two resumed their game, though this time Sammy changed the keys and Matt had to keep up.
“I thought I heard you two making a racket down here.”
The lilting, slightly flirtatious voice Sammy knew well came from right beside his ear, and the musician felt his muscles tense as his face grew hot, his fingers stilling on the piano. Looking up, he saw Susie standing beside him, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.
Matt glanced up, “You call it racket, we call it music.”
The singer glanced at Matt a moment as he spoke before her attention returned to Sammy, “Oh? Well, I think it could use some vocals, right Sammy?”
Sammy felt his heart rate speed up as he met her gaze. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
Susie grinned, “Perfect. Play something I know.”
Sammy exchanged a glance with Matt, “How about ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’?”
Matt nodded, “I’ll lead.”
He shifted his seat on the piano to better reach the keys he needed. Sammy did the same, and Matt began to count. Susie cleared her throat.
“1,2,3,4-”
“Hey, Susie!”
The one note Sammy had managed to get in died out as the musician cast his gaze up to the ceiling, inhaling deeply. Jack sauntered up to them, a rifle slung over one shoulder.
Susie turned to look at the newcomer, something flashing in her eyes, “Hello, Jack.”
Jack surveyed the three of them, “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like we’re doing, genius?” Sammy huffed. Jack glared at him and Sammy returned the glare with equal vehemence.
“Are you going on sentry duty?” Matt’s question did little to break the tension.
Jack glowered at Sammy a second more before turning to Matt, “Yes. Bertrum and I are to relieve Winona and Lacie. Security has had to be much more vigilant ever since that incident at the speakeasy.” Jack’s gaze switched back to Sammy.
Sammy ground his teeth at the accusatory tone, “Shawn and Wally started the fight. I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t help anything, either.”
“Jack,” Matt sighed, “Why don’t we just move on from the whole event, huh?”
Matt was being a real hypocrite right now, but Sammy knew he was just trying to diffuse the situation, which Sammy was not grateful for; he could fight his own battles.
“I would,” Jack said, “Except Joey is going to attack us if we ‘just move on’.”
“Well, shouldn’t you get outside, then?”
Jack crossed his arms at Sammy, “I’m waiting for Bertrum.”
“And I’m sure Joey will patiently wait for Bertrum, too.”
Susie cut Jack off before he could counter, “Why don’t you head out before Sammy starts something?”
Jack’s gaze softened as he turned to Susie, “I can handle myself, don’t worry.”
The singer’s lips pursed, and Sammy knew that was not the reason why she’d asked, “I know, but… I’d… feel better if you didn’t.”
Jack nodded, “Anything for you, Ms. Campbell.” Sammy could almost see Susie trying not to roll her eyes.
“I’ll be off, then.” Jack shot one last glare at Sammy before heading for the door-
Bullets crashed through the windows, the glass shattering in dazzling fragments. The wall sprouted tiny holes as the unseen pellets whizzed past. None of this had time to register in Sammy’s mind before Susie was tackling him and he was falling into Matt, the three crashing to the floor in a heap. Jack screamed, but Susie’s hair obstructed Sammy’s view so that he could not see if the poet had been shot or not. The roar of the gunfire blended with the sound of bullets whistling through the air to form a deadly, seemingly endless cacophony.
Then the firing ceased, as suddenly as it had started. All was quiet except for the sound of screeching tires rapidly receding. Sammy’s heart was hammering in his chest, pounding in his ears. He felt frozen where he lay.
The first to move was Susie, who pushed herself off the two musicians. Sammy’s muscles seemed to thaw, and he crawled off of Matt, rising warily to his feet. Matt inhaled deeply before following suit.
Jack lay curled up on the ground in front of the door, his arms thrown up around his head to protect himself. Matt was the first to move over to him, descending on one knee.
“Did they get you, Jack?”
Jack remained curled up, but said, “I don’t know. Did they?” His voice quavered.
Matt looked the poet up and down, “I think you’re good.”
A sigh sounded from somewhere within the curled up ball, “Good.”
Sammy and Susie moved over to them, and Sammy surveyed the bullet marks on the wall. They were in a messy bunch about four feet off the floor. As Sammy followed the trail, he saw them suddenly rise steeply, above the door, before dying off on the other side of it. Someone’s aim must have been thrown off, he reasoned, if it hadn’t been, Jack would be dead.
He glanced quickly over at the piano, to see that bullets had ripped through its delicate wood. The sight was truly awful, and he turned away, feeling the pain all musicians feel when they see an instrument damaged.
“Lacie! Winona!” Susie called. Sammy remembered they’d been on guard duty.
“We’re fine!” Lacie pushed open the front door, ushering Winona inside. The younger woman’s gaze was cast behind them on the road, as if searching for something. Lacie dragged her the remainder of the way and slammed the door shut behind them.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase and in the hallway, and soon everyone in Henry’s gang was sprinting into the room. Henry was the first down the stairs, Michael right behind him, with Boris loping after the two brothers. Bertrum and Thomas rushed in from the hallway, Bertrum with a rifle in hand. Thomas had shaving cream slathered across his face and wore only a T-shirt and hastily pulled on pants. He had a razor in his one hand, holding it out before him like a weapon. Murray was the last to arrive, practically leaping into the room with a firearm in hand. Everyone pressed into the small space.
“Winona!” Wally’s shrill voice echoed in the hallway, and Emily and Shawn pressed themselves against the wall to let him through. The young gangster sprinted to his sister, grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length.
“Are you hurt?” Wally sounded positively frantic as he looked his sister over, checking for injuries.
“I’m fine, Wally.” Winona replied gently. Wally surveyed her one last time to make sure she was telling the truth, before enveloping her in a tight embrace.
“Great Scott!” Bertrum surveyed the broken glass before him, his wrinkled eyes narrowing, “So it would seem Drew has made his move.”
“Is everyone okay? What happened?” Sammy turned as Henry approached him and Susie. Michael went to check on Jack, and he and Matt hefted the poet to his feet. He looked dazed.
“Everyone’s fine,” Susie said.
“Miraculously.” Sammy added, nodding pointedly at the hole-ridden wall. Henry took in the sight, his brow furrowing.
“Somehow, their aim got thrown off.”
“I don’t know how it happened.” Lacie spoke up, “They must have hit a bump in the road or something.”
“Who did?”
“Norman and Bendy.”
At Bendy’s name, Henry stiffened, something clouding his eyes. Boris lowered his gaze. Everyone knew how much the gang leader and the cartoon wolf missed Bendy and Alice. Sammy figured it must feel like a huge blow to them to know Bendy had fired upon them. He didn’t feel any empathy, though; this wasn’t even his side.
Sammy glowered inwardly. His teammates had nearly shot him. True, they couldn’t have known he was in the room, but they could have figured he might be in the room. He was going to have words with Joey.
“We fired after them,” Winona spoke up, disengaging herself from her brother’s hug, “But I don’t think we hit either of them.”
Henry let out a small sigh and Sammy could see the relief in his eyes; he didn’t want anyone shooting Bendy.
“Alright,” the mob boss’ voice was authoritative, “Thomas, Wally, I want you two to get to work boarding up the windows. Bertrum, Murray, you’re on guard duty. I’ll try to protect you with my ink shields, but you know I can’t hold them for very long; I’ll have to take breaks. Michael, make sure everyone caught in this shooting is okay. Everyone else, assist where you can.” So saying, Henry made his way into the hallway, presumably making for the closet where they kept hardware supplies.
The gangsters all went about their separate tasks. Thomas placed a hand on Wally’s shoulder, gently steered him away from Winona and after Henry. Bertrum and Murray exchanged a glance before heading outside, their guns at the ready. Michael suddenly appeared in front of Sammy, his quick brown eyes assessing him.
“Am I going to live?” Sammy asked drily.
“It would appear so, Sammy.” Michael moved on to check on Lacie and Winona, having finished his examinations of Jack and Matt. Jack was sitting on the piano bench. He looked pale, but otherwise fine.
Sammy smirked, “I thought Susie told you to leave.”
Jack slowly looked up at Sammy, his glare returning, “Shut up!” He pushed past Sammy and stalked after Thomas and Wally. Not so poetic now, I see. Sammy mused.
“Well, that was sudden.” Sammy’s smirk dropped as Susie spoke, and he adopted what he hoped was a cordial expression.
“Yeah, it was.”
Susie’s blue eyes twinkled, “Maybe we can make time for that song later, huh? On a different piano, though.” she added with a nod to the now broken instrument.
Sammy nodded slowly, “Sure thing.” The singer smiled brightly and left the room. Sammy watched her leave. I wish Jack had seen that.
“You’re staring, buddy.” Matt gave his friend a weary smile.
“Yeah, well, I have a right to admire the woman who might have saved our lives.”
“You may be right.” The fact that Matt wasn’t teasing him told Sammy he was shook up over the morning’s events. He was, too, Sammy had to admit, but considering this wasn’t his team, he didn’t feel as rattled as he might have. Besides, they were a part of the mafia; getting shot at was a day-to-day routine.
“I suppose we should help clean this mess up.” Matt gestured over to the broken glass on the floor, which Wally was sweeping up.
“I guess so.” Sammy sighed, and the two friends got to work.
This is a bad doodle to start off the art portion. The two buddies Matt and Sammy running together. (If you can’t tell who is who, Sammy is the one that has a flowing cascade of splendid blonde hair. Yes, it was blonde. Matt is the other one. He’s got a hat to cover up the fact that he’s an OC, but we can see behind it, buddy. We can see all.)
~Drawing Entity
(P.S.:I hope I get better at drawing soon...for your sakes.)
Drawings while watching the Majority Report + a naked guy. Naked guy isn't sexual so I'm going to leave it unmature. Originally uploaded April 9, 2025. Last two never posted.
