It's fucking cold laying on this marble floor, and the fact that he's butt ass naked isn't helping matters. That said, it's not a freezer in here, so it could be worse.
Maybe.
He pushes off his arms so that he can sit up, the sound of a large group of voices all around him, though a couple of them stick out amongst the din. Someone is shouting for that fucking Ranger, and the other is yelling...
Kate?
No, she's dead. He watched her take two bullets to the back, punching out the other side. He heard her voice as she chose death over being like him and curse him with her last breath. Richie pushed that thought aside, focusing on what the fuck was actually going on around him.
He squints his eyes, blinking rapidly before he spots his glasses laying next to his pistol on top of a pile of fabric. He grabs them, unfolding them and slipping them on, as if that will help him see better. Like some kind of placebo, it works, though it's probably clearing his head more than anything else.
"Seth?"
The person shouting for a dead girl is definitely his brother. He'd recognize his voice anywhere, for better or for worse. The last time it was shouting at him as his fist connected repeatedly with his face, his skin burning to cinders in the sun. His teeth clench as he grabs his weapon, the single extra clip, and the shirt or whatever the fuck it is. He lazily ties it around his waist and and shoves his gun into the makeshift waistband he's made.
His head turns toward the sound of Seth's voice, watching as he starts to move across the room through the other people there, all in their fucking birthday suit, trying to hide his junk while he makes his way over to a girl who...
Richie's blue eyes widen behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
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It's fucking cold laying on this marble floor, and the fact that he's butt ass naked isn't helping matters. That said, it's not a freezer in here, so it could be worse.
Maybe.
He pushes off his arms so that he can sit up, the sound of a large group of voices all around him, though a couple of them stick out amongst the din. Someone is shouting for that fucking Ranger, and the other is yelling...
Kate?
No, she's dead. He watched her take two bullets to the back, punching out the other side. He heard her voice as she chose death over being like him and curse him with her last breath. Richie pushed that thought aside, focusing on what the fuck was actually going on around him.
He squints his eyes, blinking rapidly before he spots his glasses laying next to his pistol on top of a pile of fabric. He grabs them, unfolding them and slipping them on, as if that will help him see better. Like some kind of placebo, it works, though it's probably clearing his head more than anything else.
"Seth?"
The person shouting for a dead girl is definitely his brother. He'd recognize his voice anywhere, for better or for worse. The last time it was shouting at him as his fist connected repeatedly with his face, his skin burning to cinders in the sun. His teeth clench as he grabs his weapon, the single extra clip, and the shirt or whatever the fuck it is. He lazily ties it around his waist and and shoves his gun into the makeshift waistband he's made.
His head turns toward the sound of Seth's voice, watching as he starts to move across the room through the other people there, all in their fucking birthday suit, trying to hide his junk while he makes his way over to a girl who...
Richie's blue eyes widen behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Holy shit."