Another Blurb. XD;
May. 5th, 2006 07:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladybug_archiveI couldn't get the idea for #9 out of my head, and all this past day I've been working on it. It's still not finished, but I wanted to post a bit of it and see what's thought.
Ruby hated the gang wars. She hated waiting and listening to the gunshots and the screams and not knowing if Baby Face was alright. She hated knowing that people were getting killed over some ridiculous rivalry or another. And she hated when Baby Face was alright physically, but seemed disturbed emotionally.
That was how he was right now, as she sat next to him in the Plymouth. He had barely said ten words to her since the battle had ended, and his eyes were cold and hard. He was furious about something, but she did not know how to help him.
"Baby Face," she spoke finally, choosing her words carefully, "I'm sure he'll be alright. . . ." She trailed off, gazing at the blood staining his clothes and hands, and shuddered. She had thought that it was his blood at first, and it was an understandable thing to think, but it was not his---it was Tony's. The Brooklyn man had been with Baby Face at the time and Baby Face had seen him get gunned down. The mobster had seen many people end up shot and killed through the years and it did not bother him at all, but somehow, this time it seemed to be different. He was bothered, very deeply.
Baby Face slammed his palm down on the door handle, letting out a harsh expletive as he did so. "Do you think I care what happens to him?!" he snapped.
Ruby was not deterred. "Yes, I think you do," she said softly as she ran a hand through his dark brown locks. "I think you care a lot."
"Well, you're wrong, baby," he growled, even as he let her stroke his hair. "I already told you, he's nothing to me! No one means anything to me---not him, not you, not anybody!" Most people would be frightened away by the roughness of his voice and words, but Ruby was not---and perhaps he was glad of it, even though he would not admit it even to himself. "Look, a few months ago I would've killed him myself, or he would've just as easily killed me! We're just associates. We work together. That's all."
Ruby sighed softly, continuing to smooth his hair down and paying special attention to the ends. Baby Face always got like this, when he was especially angry at himself. She had learned to ignore his outbursts, as Tony had. "Well," she said finally, "if that's all, why do you two sometimes hang out together and play cards, or talk, or even just sit silently like you each know what the other's thinking?" She did not bother to wait for Baby Face to reply, as she knew that any response he gave would not be positive. He would never agree with any of what she was saying, even if she hit on the truth---probably especially then. "Baby Face, I know that you two have some kind of a connection," she told him quietly. "I don't know what it is, or why you have it, but it's there. It's really there."
Baby Face muttered, staring down blankly at his hands. He did not know why he was so upset over this. It did not seem to him that he should be. Certainly he had worked with Tony for a long time, and he had always sort of liked the former police officer. Tony was intelligent and mature, unlike a lot of people whom Baby Face knew, but more than that, Baby Face felt that he had met him somewhere before. This had always quite disturbed him, actually, because as hard as he tried to place where that could have been, he could not. He cursed, slumping back in the seat. "He's probably already dead," he growled.
Ruby reached down to where the wounded gangster was laying partially on her lap and partially on the seat beside her and placed her fingers to his neck. "No," she said after a short moment, "he's still alive, Baby Face." But she was not sure how long he would be. His breathing was slow and weakened, he was very pale, and she could see blood seeping through the bandages over the wounds.
Baby Face grunted and shrugged, turning slightly to look down at Tony as the memory of what had happened went through his mind again.
The Syndicate was firing mercilessly, and Baby Face and the others had no choice but to fire back. He and Tony were hiding behind some crates, both wooden and metal, as they took aim at their enemies. Tony was furious.
"What's wrong with them this time?!" he cried in frustration. "You gave them their papers!" He was referring to a time when Baby Face had found several incriminating documents for the Syndicate and had tried, unsuccessfully, to blackmail them with his find. But he had had nothing but bad luck since then and he had finally been forced to admit defeat when two Syndicate assassins and then Mr. Fuselli had cornered them in the Chanel mansion.
"These guys always have chips on their shoulders!" Baby Face retorted, raising up just long enough to shoot another round. He heard someone yelp in pain and he nodded in approval as he ducked down again. "I dunno what their beef is this time, but I'm going to find out!" He cursed, shielding his eyes as splinters from a nearby crate went flying.
"If we come out of this alive," Tony muttered, and he was starting to doubt that they would.
As he leaned over the crates, firing his Tommy gun, a bullet tore into his shoulder. He hissed in pain, falling back from the shock, and before he had a chance to recover, he was shot several more times in rapid succession. With a gasp he collapsed back onto the dock, feeling dizzy and ill. He gazed up blankly at the sky above him, hearing a clap of thunder as it started to rain. Then his eyes clouded over as he lapsed into a state of semi-consciousness.
Baby Face turned to look at him as he fell, his eyes clearly displaying his shock over this incident. Then he swore vilely, grabbing up Tony's gun to use against the Syndicate. He fired furiously, unaware of how much this was affecting him until he heard several of the remaining Syndicate members screaming in pain and the majority of the gunfire ceased. Mugsy and Harry quickly finished off the others from their positions, and Baby Face set the gun aside as he knelt beside his ally.
"Tony, you idiot," he growled, seeing the empty eyes as the older man stared off into the distance. His breathing was painful and thready, and it was the only real indication that he was still alive. Blood was pooling around him and it looked to Baby Face as though he had been shot at least four times. Angrily Baby Face backhanded him, trying to stun him into awareness.
It seemed to work, at least briefly. Tony started, looking up at him in a daze, but Baby Face could see that he was barely there. He was having a terrible time focusing, and he looked as if he would pass out at any moment.
"Don't die on me now!" he ordered, cursing viciously as he gripped Tony's uninjured shoulder. "Are you going to let the Syndicate win?"
Tony gave him a look of confusion, not comprehending his words. If he had been more alert, he never would have blurted out what he did then, but as it was, he was not thinking clearly. "It was you," he rasped as his eyes became glassy again. "You're the one from before." Then he went slack, falling unconscious and leaving Baby Face staring at him in disbelief and bemusement.
"I'm the one?!" he yelled. "What one?! What are you talking about?!" He shook Tony for a moment before realizing that he was only hurting him worse. Then he abandoned his efforts, knowing that Tony could not answer him. Instead he tried to determine what to do to stop the bleeding, finally settling on pressing various cloths against the wounds. All the while he swore at and cursed Tony, the situation, the Syndicate, and his own lack of knowledge on what to do. This was not his expertise. Tony himself was the best one to go to when there were injuries to be treated.
"Baby Face!"
"What happened?!"
He looked up, seeing Mugsy and Harry coming over. Harry had been shot in the arm, but otherwise seemed alright, and Mugsy was apparently not wounded. Both looked stunned.
"What does it look like?!" Baby Face retorted in vexation. "Tony's been shot and he's probably going to croak!"
Grimly Mugsy came over to them and knelt down, examining Tony and checking his pulse. "Ruby's here," he said after a moment. "She came looking for you."
Baby Face cursed again, straightening up. "I'll go to her. You guys take care of Tony. See if you can save him." Without another word he went past them, his eyes burning and his blood boiling. Ruby should not have come here! If she had been a few minutes earlier, she could have ended up involved in the gang war. She could have been shot herself. And the last thing he needed was to have to try to take care of two wounded people! One was bad enough.
As he wandered around a corner, he heard a gasp and Ruby suddenly ran out from behind some wooden barrels. "Baby Face!" she exclaimed, horror and alarm in her expression as she came to him. Instead of embracing him, the way he had assumed she would, she stood and gazed at him with a sickened look, and he could see tears in her eyes. "You're hurt," she whispered, and he suddenly understood.
He looked down at himself, studying his hands and clothes, and then cursed. "No I'm not," he retorted. "It's Tony's blood."
Ruby stared at him. "Tony's?" she repeated. Of course she did not want him to be hurt, either, but she could not deny that she felt a certain relief to know that it had been him and not Baby Face. She had been so afraid when she had heard the gunshots and the screams as she had approached. She had been certain that she would find Baby Face laying on the docks, dying, as had happened once before. She bit her lip, moving closer and gently brushing back a piece of hair that was falling over Baby Face's right eye. "Is he dead?"
"Probably. He wasn't a minute ago, but he was pretty bad off." Baby Face spoke with venom, but Ruby thought she also caught a trace of weariness in his voice and in his eyes.
Slowly she moved closer to him, putting her arms around his waist and embracing him firmly. "I'm sorry, Baby Face, I really am," she told him sincerely. "But . . . I'm glad it wasn't you. I already nearly lost you to a gang war once." She shut her eyes tightly as several tears escaped. She hated remembering that nightmare, but she did every time that something like this occurred.
Baby Face growled. "What have you got to be sorry about?" he snapped harshly. "It's not your fault, and I don't care what happens to him anyway. His life means nothing to me!"
Ruby shook her head and continued to hug him close to her. She knew that he was not telling the truth---perhaps he believed he was, but the look in his eyes told her otherwise. He was very upset over what had happened to Tony, but he would never admit it even if he did realize it. He was probably confused over his feelings. He had only felt negative emotions from himself and from others for most of his life, and whenever he felt even a glimmer of something positive, it bewildered him.
"Baby Face?"
He started, coming back to the present as she touched his shoulder. "What?" he demanded.
"We're here."
He glared out the window, seeing that they were parked in front of the old mansion that housed a crooked doctor's office. This physician would operate on Tony without reporting the incident to the police. Nodding curtly, he thrust the car door open and stepped out. "I'll make sure he's home," he declared. "The rest of you stay here until I come back." Without waiting for a reply, he slammed the door shut again and stormed up to the porch. He banged on the old wooden door furiously, yelling for someone to come, and nearly fell inside when it was flung open without warning.
"Really, Mr. Morales, you're so impatient," the doctor smirked, not seeming surprised at all to see him. He looked the mobster up and down. "And what happened to you? Another gang war, I take it?"
Baby Face swore, grabbing him by the shirt. "Tony got shot up really bad," he informed the older man. "I want you to help him."
Immediately his hand was slapped away. "Really?" the physician purred. He seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was graying, he had a mustache and a goatee, and his eyes were cold, but glimmered greedily with the prospect of being paid. Baby Face always hated going to him, and he always tried to avoid it if he could---such as when he himself had been shot in the shoulder---but this was quite different. Tony would die for certain if he could not get medical help, and they could not take him to a regular hospital or the police would be called. "How much is this help worth to you?" the man asked now.
Baby Face glowered at him. "How much do you want?" he retorted.
He was met with the devilish smile that he hated so much. "Oh . . . I think a collection of fine gems would cover it," the doctor told him. "I'm sure you have a few to spare . . . that is, if you really want me to do everything I can to save his life."
Baby Face clenched his fist. He loathed this man more every time they met, and he had half a mind to turn right around, tell him that there was not a deal, and throw obscenities at him as he stormed down the steps. But instead he stood there, fuming, and knew that the man had him over a barrel, as always.
"Well?" the physician said calmly. "What will it be?"
Baby Face cursed him again. "Just help him," he growled finally. "I'll get together what you want."
"There, I knew you'd see it my way." The man smirked. "It's lucky for me that this time you don't have that trained nurse around to help you. But it's unlucky for you!" He cackled, then turned to go into his operating room. "Bring him in and I'll see if I can do anything for him."
I've written more than this, but this is all I'll put up for now.
Ruby hated the gang wars. She hated waiting and listening to the gunshots and the screams and not knowing if Baby Face was alright. She hated knowing that people were getting killed over some ridiculous rivalry or another. And she hated when Baby Face was alright physically, but seemed disturbed emotionally.
That was how he was right now, as she sat next to him in the Plymouth. He had barely said ten words to her since the battle had ended, and his eyes were cold and hard. He was furious about something, but she did not know how to help him.
"Baby Face," she spoke finally, choosing her words carefully, "I'm sure he'll be alright. . . ." She trailed off, gazing at the blood staining his clothes and hands, and shuddered. She had thought that it was his blood at first, and it was an understandable thing to think, but it was not his---it was Tony's. The Brooklyn man had been with Baby Face at the time and Baby Face had seen him get gunned down. The mobster had seen many people end up shot and killed through the years and it did not bother him at all, but somehow, this time it seemed to be different. He was bothered, very deeply.
Baby Face slammed his palm down on the door handle, letting out a harsh expletive as he did so. "Do you think I care what happens to him?!" he snapped.
Ruby was not deterred. "Yes, I think you do," she said softly as she ran a hand through his dark brown locks. "I think you care a lot."
"Well, you're wrong, baby," he growled, even as he let her stroke his hair. "I already told you, he's nothing to me! No one means anything to me---not him, not you, not anybody!" Most people would be frightened away by the roughness of his voice and words, but Ruby was not---and perhaps he was glad of it, even though he would not admit it even to himself. "Look, a few months ago I would've killed him myself, or he would've just as easily killed me! We're just associates. We work together. That's all."
Ruby sighed softly, continuing to smooth his hair down and paying special attention to the ends. Baby Face always got like this, when he was especially angry at himself. She had learned to ignore his outbursts, as Tony had. "Well," she said finally, "if that's all, why do you two sometimes hang out together and play cards, or talk, or even just sit silently like you each know what the other's thinking?" She did not bother to wait for Baby Face to reply, as she knew that any response he gave would not be positive. He would never agree with any of what she was saying, even if she hit on the truth---probably especially then. "Baby Face, I know that you two have some kind of a connection," she told him quietly. "I don't know what it is, or why you have it, but it's there. It's really there."
Baby Face muttered, staring down blankly at his hands. He did not know why he was so upset over this. It did not seem to him that he should be. Certainly he had worked with Tony for a long time, and he had always sort of liked the former police officer. Tony was intelligent and mature, unlike a lot of people whom Baby Face knew, but more than that, Baby Face felt that he had met him somewhere before. This had always quite disturbed him, actually, because as hard as he tried to place where that could have been, he could not. He cursed, slumping back in the seat. "He's probably already dead," he growled.
Ruby reached down to where the wounded gangster was laying partially on her lap and partially on the seat beside her and placed her fingers to his neck. "No," she said after a short moment, "he's still alive, Baby Face." But she was not sure how long he would be. His breathing was slow and weakened, he was very pale, and she could see blood seeping through the bandages over the wounds.
Baby Face grunted and shrugged, turning slightly to look down at Tony as the memory of what had happened went through his mind again.
The Syndicate was firing mercilessly, and Baby Face and the others had no choice but to fire back. He and Tony were hiding behind some crates, both wooden and metal, as they took aim at their enemies. Tony was furious.
"What's wrong with them this time?!" he cried in frustration. "You gave them their papers!" He was referring to a time when Baby Face had found several incriminating documents for the Syndicate and had tried, unsuccessfully, to blackmail them with his find. But he had had nothing but bad luck since then and he had finally been forced to admit defeat when two Syndicate assassins and then Mr. Fuselli had cornered them in the Chanel mansion.
"These guys always have chips on their shoulders!" Baby Face retorted, raising up just long enough to shoot another round. He heard someone yelp in pain and he nodded in approval as he ducked down again. "I dunno what their beef is this time, but I'm going to find out!" He cursed, shielding his eyes as splinters from a nearby crate went flying.
"If we come out of this alive," Tony muttered, and he was starting to doubt that they would.
As he leaned over the crates, firing his Tommy gun, a bullet tore into his shoulder. He hissed in pain, falling back from the shock, and before he had a chance to recover, he was shot several more times in rapid succession. With a gasp he collapsed back onto the dock, feeling dizzy and ill. He gazed up blankly at the sky above him, hearing a clap of thunder as it started to rain. Then his eyes clouded over as he lapsed into a state of semi-consciousness.
Baby Face turned to look at him as he fell, his eyes clearly displaying his shock over this incident. Then he swore vilely, grabbing up Tony's gun to use against the Syndicate. He fired furiously, unaware of how much this was affecting him until he heard several of the remaining Syndicate members screaming in pain and the majority of the gunfire ceased. Mugsy and Harry quickly finished off the others from their positions, and Baby Face set the gun aside as he knelt beside his ally.
"Tony, you idiot," he growled, seeing the empty eyes as the older man stared off into the distance. His breathing was painful and thready, and it was the only real indication that he was still alive. Blood was pooling around him and it looked to Baby Face as though he had been shot at least four times. Angrily Baby Face backhanded him, trying to stun him into awareness.
It seemed to work, at least briefly. Tony started, looking up at him in a daze, but Baby Face could see that he was barely there. He was having a terrible time focusing, and he looked as if he would pass out at any moment.
"Don't die on me now!" he ordered, cursing viciously as he gripped Tony's uninjured shoulder. "Are you going to let the Syndicate win?"
Tony gave him a look of confusion, not comprehending his words. If he had been more alert, he never would have blurted out what he did then, but as it was, he was not thinking clearly. "It was you," he rasped as his eyes became glassy again. "You're the one from before." Then he went slack, falling unconscious and leaving Baby Face staring at him in disbelief and bemusement.
"I'm the one?!" he yelled. "What one?! What are you talking about?!" He shook Tony for a moment before realizing that he was only hurting him worse. Then he abandoned his efforts, knowing that Tony could not answer him. Instead he tried to determine what to do to stop the bleeding, finally settling on pressing various cloths against the wounds. All the while he swore at and cursed Tony, the situation, the Syndicate, and his own lack of knowledge on what to do. This was not his expertise. Tony himself was the best one to go to when there were injuries to be treated.
"Baby Face!"
"What happened?!"
He looked up, seeing Mugsy and Harry coming over. Harry had been shot in the arm, but otherwise seemed alright, and Mugsy was apparently not wounded. Both looked stunned.
"What does it look like?!" Baby Face retorted in vexation. "Tony's been shot and he's probably going to croak!"
Grimly Mugsy came over to them and knelt down, examining Tony and checking his pulse. "Ruby's here," he said after a moment. "She came looking for you."
Baby Face cursed again, straightening up. "I'll go to her. You guys take care of Tony. See if you can save him." Without another word he went past them, his eyes burning and his blood boiling. Ruby should not have come here! If she had been a few minutes earlier, she could have ended up involved in the gang war. She could have been shot herself. And the last thing he needed was to have to try to take care of two wounded people! One was bad enough.
As he wandered around a corner, he heard a gasp and Ruby suddenly ran out from behind some wooden barrels. "Baby Face!" she exclaimed, horror and alarm in her expression as she came to him. Instead of embracing him, the way he had assumed she would, she stood and gazed at him with a sickened look, and he could see tears in her eyes. "You're hurt," she whispered, and he suddenly understood.
He looked down at himself, studying his hands and clothes, and then cursed. "No I'm not," he retorted. "It's Tony's blood."
Ruby stared at him. "Tony's?" she repeated. Of course she did not want him to be hurt, either, but she could not deny that she felt a certain relief to know that it had been him and not Baby Face. She had been so afraid when she had heard the gunshots and the screams as she had approached. She had been certain that she would find Baby Face laying on the docks, dying, as had happened once before. She bit her lip, moving closer and gently brushing back a piece of hair that was falling over Baby Face's right eye. "Is he dead?"
"Probably. He wasn't a minute ago, but he was pretty bad off." Baby Face spoke with venom, but Ruby thought she also caught a trace of weariness in his voice and in his eyes.
Slowly she moved closer to him, putting her arms around his waist and embracing him firmly. "I'm sorry, Baby Face, I really am," she told him sincerely. "But . . . I'm glad it wasn't you. I already nearly lost you to a gang war once." She shut her eyes tightly as several tears escaped. She hated remembering that nightmare, but she did every time that something like this occurred.
Baby Face growled. "What have you got to be sorry about?" he snapped harshly. "It's not your fault, and I don't care what happens to him anyway. His life means nothing to me!"
Ruby shook her head and continued to hug him close to her. She knew that he was not telling the truth---perhaps he believed he was, but the look in his eyes told her otherwise. He was very upset over what had happened to Tony, but he would never admit it even if he did realize it. He was probably confused over his feelings. He had only felt negative emotions from himself and from others for most of his life, and whenever he felt even a glimmer of something positive, it bewildered him.
"Baby Face?"
He started, coming back to the present as she touched his shoulder. "What?" he demanded.
"We're here."
He glared out the window, seeing that they were parked in front of the old mansion that housed a crooked doctor's office. This physician would operate on Tony without reporting the incident to the police. Nodding curtly, he thrust the car door open and stepped out. "I'll make sure he's home," he declared. "The rest of you stay here until I come back." Without waiting for a reply, he slammed the door shut again and stormed up to the porch. He banged on the old wooden door furiously, yelling for someone to come, and nearly fell inside when it was flung open without warning.
"Really, Mr. Morales, you're so impatient," the doctor smirked, not seeming surprised at all to see him. He looked the mobster up and down. "And what happened to you? Another gang war, I take it?"
Baby Face swore, grabbing him by the shirt. "Tony got shot up really bad," he informed the older man. "I want you to help him."
Immediately his hand was slapped away. "Really?" the physician purred. He seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was graying, he had a mustache and a goatee, and his eyes were cold, but glimmered greedily with the prospect of being paid. Baby Face always hated going to him, and he always tried to avoid it if he could---such as when he himself had been shot in the shoulder---but this was quite different. Tony would die for certain if he could not get medical help, and they could not take him to a regular hospital or the police would be called. "How much is this help worth to you?" the man asked now.
Baby Face glowered at him. "How much do you want?" he retorted.
He was met with the devilish smile that he hated so much. "Oh . . . I think a collection of fine gems would cover it," the doctor told him. "I'm sure you have a few to spare . . . that is, if you really want me to do everything I can to save his life."
Baby Face clenched his fist. He loathed this man more every time they met, and he had half a mind to turn right around, tell him that there was not a deal, and throw obscenities at him as he stormed down the steps. But instead he stood there, fuming, and knew that the man had him over a barrel, as always.
"Well?" the physician said calmly. "What will it be?"
Baby Face cursed him again. "Just help him," he growled finally. "I'll get together what you want."
"There, I knew you'd see it my way." The man smirked. "It's lucky for me that this time you don't have that trained nurse around to help you. But it's unlucky for you!" He cackled, then turned to go into his operating room. "Bring him in and I'll see if I can do anything for him."
I've written more than this, but this is all I'll put up for now.
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Date: 2006-05-05 02:37 pm (UTC)