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JimCaedus · (12-27-2017)

"Apex Assemble: Try Hard p.2"

--TUESDAY•CASTLE CAEDUS--

Jim levies one helluva pair of pitiable puppy dog eyes at both Robert and Drew in silence as the song plays on.

His Apex brothers exchange frowning glances then look back to Jim.

What the hell are you doing right now?

I'd say it's entirely possible Jim is apologizing to us right now, Bob. I mean, he's doing it like a lady but I'm pretty sure he's apologizing.

Jim replies with a faint lilt of a sob to his voice. "Hey, anything used in a Scorsese picture is manly as fuck. Casino homie...or was it Goodfellas? Meh, anyway...I'm sorry, brothers. Christmas always gets to me since the folks, wife and daughter passed on. ...Ok, not so much the cheating slut but definitely the rest."

Jim let's be honest. You blow your top and apologize as often as Pig changes his diaper. Which rumor has it is 3 times a day. At this point your apology is kinda not important. Actions speak louder than words is what they say. So go out there and act.

"Man...Drew, if you only knew how relevant that last part is in context with why I called you two over. I'll get to that in a moment though. First...you guys hear Pig thinks one o' you is the Mystery Competitor in our match for Anarchy?"

I am the mystery competitor obviously. I didn't think that was a secret. I know it says "Mystery Competitor" in big bold letters on the card but really what it should say is Drew Archyle.

"Wait it's really you!?"

No, of course not! I don't play the mysterious game. If and when I am going to face someone in the ring I want them to know it's me. Head games are for guys who can't back up their words with their fists. And that pally ain't me.

Seriously Jimmy, if one of us were the Mystery Competitor we would've told you.

"That's a damn good point, bro." Jim continues, looking to the lens. "I guess Bearded Half Wit didn't reckon on that little detail. Logic ain't exactly his strong suit. Or thinking. Or speaking. Or wiping front to back, the scat-sac sumbitch...at least that's how his cohort "Mad Dog" Mattis describes puppy-style experiences penetrating Pig's mudhole. Fuck all that for the moment though; on a more serious note..." Jim looks to his brothers. "I have an extremely big favor to ask of you both."

What's up?

Jim begins breaking down recent events popping off in Phelan as we IRIS OUT...

...then CUT TO the trio arriving by way of rental car roughly an hour and forty-five minutes later, Caedus behind the wheel. All three men sit quietly, the grave news and task at hand Jim had described before departure now fully sinking in, a shared grim expression among them.

At long last, Robert Main breaks the silence.

How's it feel to be back, Jim?

It takes him a moment but he finally responds:

"Like a bad dream. Last time leading into the KotR was weird enough, running into that "clone" of mine. Now this... And on that note, thank you guys. If I had to do this without you, I'd more than likely end up dy-"

Don't you finish that prediction. Don't say that, NEVER say that! Goonies never say die!

The three laugh, the tension provided via events to come easing for a few moments. Before long, however, smiles fade and masks of concern resettle as our pov DISSOLVES to an exterior shot of the car slowing to a stop on Sheep Creek at the town's single intersection then taking a left onto Phelan Road.

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

The drag of a thumb tip sparks and ignites flammable gas, a sustained teardrop of blue and yellow held a couple inches beneath the transparent, thin-glassed orb of a loaded pookie.

Grubby middle finger and thumb roll the "oil burner" stem as crystal shards within instantly melt to a pool of first clear then yellowing liquid vaporizing to gaseous form, packing the device opaque with white smoke.

Chapped lips encircle open opposite end, inhaling as fingers continue rolling and lighter flame extinguishes.

The pookie is placed atop a folded bandana to cool, the liquid quickly re-crystalizing to a pale yellow solid.

Chapped lips exhale a positively immense cloud.

::PWA-KLANG!!::

A stone half the size of a basketball smacks through cloudy plexiglass trailer entry door, landing on the stovetop.

Smoker spazzes, startled, sweeping an arm across snap-up dining tabletop, flinging the pookie and bandana down the length of the trailer out of instinct.

A thickly muscled right arm reaches in to unlock the door a second before the door itself is flung open and Jim Caedus, bearing his now trusty shotgun gifted to him out of spite by Josh Reno, steps in to extend his arm and one-handed level the barrel at smoker's shocked visage.

"Sup Colton."

Colton Justice; real guy, actual name. During Jim and his late family's time spent streetside in town cohabitating in the Explorer, Jim had encountered Colton on multiple occasions.

The first had been in aiding a 7 months pregnant young lady, Coltons girlfriend at the time, he'd stomach punched in the parking lot outside Stater Bros. Jim had clocked Colton out cold, holding him on the ground until deputies arrived. The girlfriend refused to press charges. She later miscarried.

The second confrontation happened outside the Arco AMPM, an attempt at revenge. A broken nose saw Colton flee with his unreliably timid backup.

The third, fourth and fifth times Jim witnessed Colton buying glass in broad daylight outside the Burger King...from who would later be revealed over the next few weeks as Sureños affiliates.

That affiliation, in light of the recent canine-killing home invasion victimizing Roger and Julie Fish, is what now inspires Jim's presence.

Colton's eyes stare fearful daggers in recognition.

"Don't...don't kill me man, I didn't do shit."

Jim steps in and shuts the door.

"Couple questions, cocksucker."

::STATIC::

TBC

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