Inspiration: @b-o-y-a‘s Criminal!Josh and Tyler & the song R.I.P. 2 My Youth by the Neighbourhood.
warnings: swearing, knives
Josh
Josh woke up at the slam of his front door. For the second morning in the last week, he jumped out of bed, except this time, he actually held onto his weapon. The apartment was silent. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing.
Whoever had been in his apartment was gone, the door was only slammed to wake him up.
Still on high alert, Josh cracked open his bedroom door, gun up and ready to shoot.
There was nothing, except a note, stuck to his wall by an oil slicked throwing knife.
“Fuck.”
Josh crossed the room and yanked the knife out of the wall, catching the note as it drifted to the ground.
“Saint J,
I have work for you. Come see me.
- King”
King’s knife, then. It did seem like his style.
--
For the third time in three days, Josh slid into the seat across from King.This, however, was the first time King was expecting him. His usual “court” was nowhere to be seen, even when the music was pounding and bodies packed the room, there were normally a few people in the back, talking and drinking.
“I sent them off.” King didn’t sound right. He sounded tired.
“Last night you said you can’t afford to have someone as “useless” as me around.”
“Did I?” King sighed softly. “I- That wasn’t me.”
“Right.”
“You have the knife.”
Josh palmed it and stuck it in the table in front of from King, making him wince.
“Keep it, I want you to leave it on the scene.”
“Sure.”
“You know the building you live in? One of my competitors lives there, too. I want you to destroy i-”
“Seriously? No. I live there!”
“I wasn’t done! I want you to come stay with me, there’s better security and there’s someone on your tail, looking for revenge.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
King slid a cheque across the table, “Call this enticement. If you do what I ask, there’s double that waiting for you.”
Josh picked up the cheque. Fuck, that was a lot of money.
Enough to get his name out there.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You have a week.” King froze, eyes shutting in a wince.
“King, dude, you okay?”
“I’m not King, I’m Tyler.”
“Sure, Tyler, what’s wrong?”
“Just a headache, now leave.”
Josh snorted derisively. Of course, he’s a dick. Without replying, he got up and left.
--
His apartment door was open a crack.
Josh pulled out Tyler’s knife, moving softly down the hallway and using the door as cover. He glanced into the main room, and, not seeing anyone, slipped in.
There was someone on his couch. Wait, he knew that figure. Josh put the knife away and sighed, flicking on the light.
Brendon jumped, “Shit, man, can’t you make noise like a normal person?”
“Nah, not when someone breaks into my apartment.”
“Come on, you gave me a key.”
“Well, why’d you leave the door open?”
“So you wouldn’t stab me when you saw me, again.”
Josh sighed and walked into his kitchen, “So, why are you here?”
“Can’t I just visit a friend?”`
Josh glared.
“Okay fine, King sent me.”
“What does he want?”
“Not sure, he told me to tell you that he understands your mind.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Good question, J. Now if you’re done worrying about work, I brought weed.”
Inspiration: @b-o-y-a‘s Criminal!Josh and Tyler & the song Fake Empire by The National.
content warnings for swearing and implied prostitution.
Tyler
Any day now. Any damn day now.
Blurry glared through Tyler’s eyes at the man, Saint J, beside him. Blurry doesn’t exist. Blurryface isn’t real.
How else are you going to explain this?
“What brings you here, again?” Those aren’t my words, that’s not my voice.
“I came to... apologize.”
“What makes you think I want an apology?”
“I didn’t ask you if you wanted one. You’re going to get one.” J paused, “I’m not really sorry for what went down yesterday, but some shit came up and I can’t afford to have enemies as powerful as you right now.”
“You need money.”
“Business is slow.”
“I can’t afford to have someone as useless as you hanging around here.” Not my words. Not my voice.
J laughed derisively, “Look man, I’m not here for money, or for work. I came to say I’m sorry for threatening you yesterday.” He got up and went back to his normal place at the bar.
Sorry.
Josh
What the fuck was that?
Something was wrong with King, Josh was sure of it. Fuck, if only he knew what.
“Hey, you’re Saint J right? Brendon’s friend?”
“Depends on who’s asking.”
“My name is Dallon, I-uh, was looking for him.” (Dallon James Weekes: 35, born May 4, 1981, father: unknown, mother: Leann Weekes, dating Brendon, ties unknown, career unknown.)
“If he’s not here I have no idea where he is.” Dallon… this is Bren’s boy.
“Do you have his phone number or something?”
“I know you from somewhere.”
“I don’t think so.”
Josh stood up and yelled, “Hey King! Get Urie out here or come get this kid out of my face!”
Dallon jumped and shrank back, “I think this was a mistake.”
“Josh!” Josh turned around at the familiar voice. “Why are you harassing a paying customer?”
“Hey Bren, Dallon’s here.”
“Good reason.”
“Sorry man.”
Dallon had started smiling the moment Brendon appeared.
“Sorry ‘bout J, he’s just a grumpy drunk.” Brendon teased, before leading Dallon away, back towards King’s court.
Josh stared after them.
--
There was no one waiting in Josh’s apartment that night. The only thing that surprised him about that what the faint feeling of disappointment that trailed in his wake as he got ready for bed.
What was it that King had been tapping on the table during their conversation? It was still stuck in his head.
Three shorter taps, three longer taps, then three shorter ones. Repeated, over and over again.
Inspiration: @b-o-y-a ‘s Criminal!Josh and Tyler & the song The Suburbs by Arcade Fire
Content warnings for swearing.
Josh woke up to his upstairs neighbour’s loud swearing. One downside of the “affordable” housing.
Times were tough, most people did their dirty work for themselves, only the rich needed someone like him, and not many of knew he existed. Yet.
He needed to make a mark, a big one. So far, Josh had only been hired as a hitman. There’s no art in killing, the real satisfaction lay in complete and utter destruction. The adrenaline rush of walking out of a building minutes before it blew sky high, or the feeling of power that came from manipulating someone into trusting him, and then stabbing them in the back (literally or figuratively.) Those were the feelings he lived for.
Josh was snapped out of his thoughts by the clunk of his knife sliding out from under his pillow.
“Shit,” He jumped up, dropping his gun and almost tripping over the rug in front of him, “fuck.”
“Fuck.” he muttered again, when he saw the source of the noise.
--
The rest of Josh’s morning went by in much the same manner, he jumped at every sound and he felt like he’d done a couple lines of speed. He didn’t want to think it was his nighttime visitor and the encounter in the bar, but, well, he did have a brain.
He jumped again as an unmarked envelope slid under his door, and waited till the footsteps faded from his hearing before getting up to get it. Inside was a name, and a phone number.
And a message:
If this is Saint J, the name enclosed is your target. He is dangerous and well protected.
Call the number enclosed when you’re done and we’ll discuss payment.
Josh had lost track of how long he’d spent at that one bar over the years. Work was slow, and there was nothing worse than spending all your time alone in a shitty apartment. So, more often then not, he would be found there, hunched over the bar or chatting with some of the other regulars.
Unlike most people, he was never drawn to the back right corner (closest to the back exit) King’s court. The laughter had never seduced him, it sounded hollow and fake. But, after King’s appearance in his apartment last night and the revelation that King knew who he was, Josh stalked to the back and slid into the chair across from King.
The laughter around him stopped, as the people realized who had just sat down.
“Saint J, what a pleasant surprise… what brings you to my corner?”
“A warning.” Josh paused, “Stay out of my house. Next time I catch you there, I won’t be nearly as nice.”
“Was that a threat, J?” King asked.
“Only if I have to act on it.” And with that, Josh stood up, turned his back (his instincts were screaming at him) and went back to his usual spot at the bar.
“You’ve either stupid or brave. Either way I commend you.” Josh whirled around, King merely inches behind him. “My name is Tyler, by the way. Tell Urie I told you, so he can rest easy.”
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