Euphoria [M]

The first waves of Klonopin were hitting chuck like a train. He loved the way the drug took 100% of the worry and stress away, he needed it. When he was off it, he would often drift to dark places. Places void of light, where the only calming peace he could find was in the thoughts of death. In dying, Chuck knew then at last he would be free. Not just free from the rotten best left forgotten life he lived, but also from himself. Underneath all the muscle and tattoos was a frightened man. A man who could not even stand to look at his image in the mirror without cringing. HE closed his eyes and let the drug take him entirely, it was heaven. He had no cares in the world.

A small cold feeling touched his temple. IT felt like someone with cold hands was touching him with their finger, but it was not a finger, it was the barrel of his own gun.

"Sup?" C L I C K, went the hammer of the gun.

Chuck was floating, not just high, but high the way only a seasoned junkie can experience. HE felt his blood start to pump and his nerves give half a twitch, before setting back down in less than a second. A normal person would have nearly pissed their pants if an unknown intruder placed a gun to their head, but Chuck and his Klonopin just Smiled as she spoke.

In his care free daze he only caught about every third sentence of his assailants voice, it was a female, that much he knew.

"we gunna go see yo' boss-man ya mean?"

"you fuck up my hair and I'mma put a bullet between those cute lil' ears"

"So go Chuck, go..."

Chucks smile turned into an bursting grin, An extremely rare sight. He pused his head against the barrel of the gun as if to say, -Go ahead then shoot.

" Who the fuck hired you, I don't need no babysitter" He slowly put a cigarette in his mouth and continued

"I got caught in a bunk deal, had to shoot my fucking way out, and this is the thanks I get."

His words swam in front of him and slowly formed into a thought. In an instant he realized that his own gang had called this bitch on him. His own Fucking Gang, he though. When he realized this, he also realized that if the Overlords hired her she would most likely put a bullet in his head if he didn't do as she said. If Chuck wasn't high on the strong drug he most likely would have told her to get fucked, but as it was, the drug made him want to live, so he gave in.

"Alright, just tell me where the fuck to go. And don't shoot, Im just lightening a smoke"

He reached up with his lighter in hand and lit the end of the Cigarette. He inhaled deep, letting the smoke out in slow even bursts then fired the Impala to life.
"Who the fuck hired you? I don't need no babysitter." Chuck responded as he placed a cigarette to his lips, "I got caught in a bunk deal, had to shoot my fucking way out, and this is the thanks I get."

Monet simply watched as he tried in vain to eat his words, things were clicking into place for poor little Chuck and Monet loved every second of it. She simply held his gun towards him and let him flounder. The wide grin hadn't left her lips the entire time he spoke, although she couldn't tell if it was from the weed or from the pleasure of fear she got.

"Damn, you's a whiney-ass bitch ain't chu?" Monet sighed, shaking her head, the loose curls framing her face shaking with it.

"Alright, just tell me where the fuck to go. And don't shoot, I'm just lighting a smoke." Chuck said, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Monet rolled her eyes, adjusted her aim and shot the driver's side window, but only to make a point, "Oh damn, what a shame, yo car got a little wrecked! Your honky ass knows damn well where the fuck we're goin' now drive Chuck before I put a bullet in your leg and drive the damn car myself, ya mean?" She cracked her neck a little.

"Go see yo boss man homie. Same meetin' place as before. Shit you Overlords is stupid and I better be paid damn fuckin' well for this shit." She sighed, aiming the gun back at Chuck's head, pulling another cigarette from her pocket and placing it in her lips and patting for her lighter, finally finding it and lighting up too.
Chuck was an angry gumball. He was mad at his gang for sending him to his possible death, he was mad at himself for getting jacked by some crazy botch with his own gun and last but not least he was mad that his pill bottle was almost empty. The worst part of the whole situation was that he couldn't do anything about it. He was, more or less, completely helpless and forced to surrender to his captor. HE tried to catch a look at her in the rear view mirror, but found that she was just out of view. The only thing Chuck could see out of the corner of his right eye was the barrel of his own gun.....his own gun! In all honestly, Chuck was more annoyed with himself than he was scared.

As the car's engine hummed into the early morning air, Chuck listen to this Girl talk Man, thought Chuck, she was a real shit talker. Just after chuck got his smoke lit he felt the gun leave his temple for just a second, followed by a B A N G! as his passenger side window shattered into oblivion. Chuck didn't say a word, he just silently cringed. This bitch meant business, and Chuck thought it best not to test her any further.

"Go see yo boss man homie. Same meetin' place as before. Shit you Overlords is stupid and I better be paid damn fuckin' well for this shit." Then Chuck felt the gun press against the back of his head, he feared that if he heard another shot it would be the last sound he ever heard.

"Alright, I was spossed to meet my contact at the bar over on 5th and Hayward. It's called "The Widows nest" As soon as these words left Chucks lips he pulled away from the curb and drove off into the constantly dark and hazed over environment that was the hell they both lived in. The small amount of sun that actually made it through the haze always seemed distant and distorted. That was the thing about the world now. Even if you had it good here, sometimes death seemed better than living. Chuck made his way down the road, taking care not to make any fast movements, he even went as far as to let his smoke burn out rather than flick it out the window. It wasn't so much that this Lady scared him, it was more of the fact that she came off as a loose cannon, and Chuck didn't trust Loose cannons. After another series of turns and about 10 minutes down the main road, they arrived at their destination, "The Widows nest". Chuck stopped the car and realized he could probably get his bottle of Klonopin refilled here as well, so all in all, the day was looking a little brighter already.
"Ah I see!" His reply came less defeated as she might have thought. "You forgot to mention a third option though. If I'm already in trouble (not that I fear them as much mind you) I might just as well deliver you to them, and earn some credit as well as cash at the same time."

"They won't give you much," she simply responded. As he pointed his gun back to her, she rolled her eyes. She wasn't freaking out, instead she stood there calmly and listened to what he had to say.

"You don't seem to be interesting in relating your story anyway, which makes you a useless asset in my hands, so to speak. Trust me girl, I'd like to save you but...Have to make a profit somehow."

Amaya felt the sting of a headache coming, she continued looking forward as they flew. Ignoring the fact that she knew she had to take her medication. "As we all do." She noticed the evil grin and she had a feeling he had something devious in mind. Rape? Murder? Sending her to the Overlords? Whatever it was, she was prepared for it.

"Now before I decide that saving my own ass is more important than saving yours, I'm giving you one more chance to tell me EXACTLY what they were chasing you for. If not, we go straight to gangster headquarters and I negotiate a good price for you... Who knows, they might even let you live and put you out on the streets for them." His gaze briefly went down and up again in that same, predatory manner. "You definitely have the body for it."

"Thank you for your sincere compliment," she responded sarcastically. She sat back in the chair comfortably, not taking his threat entirely serious. "Listen, it's early in the morning. I'm hungry and have a migraine. I say we head to a diner. There, I will tell you everything. Take my word for it, Ed." She peered down at the window and noticed an Impala swerving about and driving really fast. She didn't notice anyone behind the car though, so it wasn't being chased. Perhaps another drunk driver, Amaya thought; if it wasn't drugs they were after, it was alcohol.
She was laying in bed, bobbing her head back and forth in time with the music streaming through the tiny little buds in her ear. Even with the volume turned up to it's highest she could hear them downstairs arguing. About the drugs. They didn't think she knew. That they kept their secrets well. But those little black pills Mom called 'medicine' never really made things any better. It was okay, though. This was how she knew her parents really loved each other.

The sudden sound of gunshots had her sitting up in bed with a jerk. THAT wasn't normal. Flinging herself off the bed, she ran across the hall and down the stairs. At the bottom her mother was lying in a pool of blood. Her father had a gun and was shooting towards the door where several people trying to shove their way in. The windows shattered.

"HIDE!" her father shouted.

Gunshots still ringing downstairs, she ran past her own room until she crashed through the door of her parents room. Dropping to the floor, she squeezed herself under the bed. There was barely enough room for her to breathe, but as she held her breath that hardly mattered anymore.

The gunfire stopped and all fell silent. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. She could see them as the past the bedroom door, entered the room and looked around.

"There's no one else here." came a scruffy voice from the black shoes.

Brown shoes in the hallway replied. "No. There's a little bitch here somewhere."

"Should we kill her too?"

"Naw... Let's sell her. That'll piss West the fuck off."

Both pairs of shoes looked around more. The black pair flinging stuff out of the closet. A brown bottle of pills hit the floor and rolled near the bed. Pills were cash, he knelt on the floor to grab them. There he saw her, a long sly smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there, little pretty..."

Screeching of car tires snapped Megan back to the present. She was standing outside on a corner, leaning against a light pole and being bored out of her mind. A few days of numbing chaos behind her, now she was just wanting to do anything besides standing outside waiting for her sister. Calliope told her wait there. "Don't move a muscle." she said. Calliope was supposed of been back a good thirty minutes ago. Another five minutes and Megan was going to go looking for her... or something to eat.

For the moment, the twelve-looking eighteen year old was people-watching. A nightclub was on this street. The music was so loud she could hear it over her own music player. Woman that walked down the street were barely dressed. There were men that looked so messed up she was surprised they could even stand up straight. What Megan couldn't fathom was why Calliope was down one of the alleys doing God-Knew-What. Her sister pitched a big tantrum of 'going somewhere safe'. Megan figured they'd get herpes just by looking at some of the people around here.

Megan checked her watch. Two minutes and she was leaving the stupidass corner.
"I-I told you, Calli- I don't know nothing about what went down at your house!" If Megan hadn't been listening to her headphones, she would have heard the indistinct sound of a Desert Eagle .50, traveling through the street-scum's kneecap. Skag, a low-life wannabe hustler was caught by surprise by the ONE chick he didn't want to screw with. Whatever kind of high he had, was quickly getting wasted by pure pain. Grabbing his knee, he looked up at the woman and quickly tried to think of something to say. Even while suffering, he tried to at least slightly glance up her black miniskirt.

If he was going to die, at least he would die knowing he got a glimpse of heaven.

"You know what goes on, through all of the circuits, dear Skag..." Calliope West calmly let a puff of cigarette smoke trail into the air. One heavy-booted foot was on top of Skag's chest, holding him down. She knew the man was wasted- which made shooting him all the more fun. Wiping a smudge of his blood from her boot, she soon bent over and plopped her cigarette into his mouth. "Go ahead, take a drag..." The woman mused, nodding encouragingly. If she didn't get information out of him, at least she would send a message to the pieces of shit he worked for.

Like someone wasn't getting shot or jumped in the alley, people strolled past. The day was as beautiful as it could get, however everyone on the streets other than a select few- were too high to even enjoy it.

Plucking her cigarette from Skag's mouth, she tilted her head to the side and studied him. Of course, it seemed, the closer she got into his face the more nervous he was. Being a marijuana supplier in that time wasn't easy. Calliope learned the hard way through the years to regulate. An ounce here, an ounce there...and sooner-or-later, she'll have to shoot a few people. In the case of her parents being killed and almost Megan...

Another gunshot rang through the air; Skag, lacking both kneecaps now, was writhing on the asphalt- and obviously ready to talk.

"Jesus fucking-- holy shit, bitch I'll tell you everything!"

Minutes later, Calliope strolled up next to her sister and lit a cigarette. She had gotten the information she was after, but his last words to her did the trick. Acting like it was no big deal, she smiled down at Megan and winked. "Let's go get some food, Meggers." Megan hated that nickname, but whenever her older sister used it- she didn't seem AS irritated as she was when their parents did. In this kind of world, the kind of bond they had was rare- but she would be god damned if she let anyone touch a hair on her sister's head. As the two of them strolled off down the street, an ambulance was rushing to the alley. Skag was dead when the paramedics found him; a final bullet wound planted right between his eyes, as well as what was left of Calliope's cigarette.

That would send a pretty good message.

"Alright, I was spossed to meet my contact at the bar over on 5th and Hayward. It's called "The Widows nest" Chuck said, his tone a bit more serious then before.

Monet couldn't tell if it was fear of her or the smarts to continue the job that drove Chuck. As soon as he spoke those words the car was off and driving, heading through the bleak existence that the lower slums of the city held. It was depressing for sure but as long as Monet had her money, weed, booze and the occasional bit of meth she was content. The work was always steady for one of her standing, a gun for hire and she knew she was good at her job. People died, and that was a fact of life for the New Yorkers. The ones that weren't hit by a bullet usually burned out on Euphoria or some other drug and croaked before their time.

Monet had been either dumb enough or smart enough to stick away from the Euphoria, she had seen what it had done to too many people and though they were happy for a short while it was highly addictive and it was certainly something that she couldn't handle. She had become so entrusting in keeping her brain as intact as possible because you never know when the next bullet was aimed for you and if you didn't have a clear head then you might not care, not that dying seemed that bad, it was after all an escape from the hell that they all seemed to know so well, but Monet thrived here, and she wasn't going to give it up just quite yet.

Monet's gaze was trained intently on Chuck, who seemed to get the message, don't fuck with Monet and you get out okay, unless of course her contract told her to kill the mother fucker, but then she had no problems placing a bullet in their head. She would of course leave her signature lipstick kiss mark on them, granted it wasn't too bloody and had a clean spot to kiss. But as Chuck drove she felt a sort of respect for him, he knew his place in this situation and she didn't mind a guy that wasn't dumb enough to try and be a hero.

She looked out the window as they arrived at the meeting place.
"Ai'ght, lissen, you gunna get out nice an' slow ya mean? I ain't gunna shoot your cracker ass in the back, you ain't pissed me off yet. An' you din' fuck up my hair so we coo' for now. Le's go see yo boss man." She whispered in his ear, the gun pointed at the nape of his neck, it wouldn't be a fatal shot but it could certainly make him a parapalegic from this angle. She gave a large kiss on his cheek with a wink, "Go Chuck, go." She said again, her tone turned a little more sultry.

She added one more note before they stepped in, "In hur, we partners, I got yo back if you got mine, ya mean? I don't trust these overlord cocksuckers much more then anyone else but yo ass proved you can be trusted so far. Jus' don' think I be giving your ass yo gun back yet. You'll get it when yo ass need it."
Steve slouched against a wall on some road, he watched the people stumble by, too stoned or smacked out of their minds to even keep their balance, let alone care about where they were really going. A few cars had passed by, their drivers somewhat more sober then those on the street, but not by much. every now and then a couple people would get hit, everyone would freak for a minute, then the drugs kicked back in and they didn't even care anymore.

"Fucking Pathetic," He said about the situation to nobody in particular, everyone too doped out of their minds to really care about anything

He walked back after flicking out the Killer Weed he'd been smoking before bending over the mutilated corpse that lay in a bloody puddle in the alley and extracting a bag of drugs and skinning the right shoulder, removing the patch of skin bearing it's former owner's gang tattoo. He pocketed both and kept walking, stopping only to take out another roach of Killer Weed and light it before moving on. He had a contract to keep, and that was one of the few things he cared about anymore, was keeping a contract. The other was Angel Dust, but he had plenty of that in supply right now.
Chuck slowly stepped out of the car at Monet's command. He briefly glanced down towards the .357 magnum in the driver side door panel, then thought better of it. In the back of his mind the thought of never walking out of the Bar alive was there…but Chuck passed it off as paranoia due to the drugs (or lack of) in his system. The funny thing about Klonopin; If you had enough of it in you, there was no fear. It eliminated all worry and doubt, but if you were under dosed, as Chuck currently was, then it caused mild paranoia.

As his boots hit the concrete reality hit him, he was captive, and not only that, being walked at gun point to meet up with his gang - HIS GANG - by some vigilante. Chucks hand shot to his face, he rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands in frustration. All this aside, Chuck did have a sort of off kilter respect for Monet, after all the bitch was able to take him captive. Just as Chuck turned to shut the door, he felt the barrel of his gun press lightly to the back of his neck.

"Ai'ght, lissen, you gunna get out nice an' slow ya mean? I ain't gunna shoot your cracker ass in the back, you ain't pissed me off yet. An' you din' fuck up my hair so we coo' for now. Le's go see yo boss man."

He heard her speak, then Grimaced as she planted a kiss on his Cheek. "Go Chuck, go."

He felt a slight rage building up in him, but not really towards Monet. It was more towards himself. He couldn't hold back anymore, that taunting kiss had set him off. He pulled away and stuck his face about an inch from hers.
" You may have the upper hand now, but if things go my way in here. You are dead, Bitch." He didn't even wait for a response and turned towards the door.

"In hur, we partners, I got yo back if you got mine, ya mean? I don't trust these overlord cocksuckers much more then anyone else but yo ass proved you can be trusted so far. Jus' don' think I be giving your ass yo gun back yet. You'll get it when yo ass need it."

" I don't "got your back" Chuck retorted angrily "In fact, I plan to kill you." He spit on the ground in disgust "" You may have the upper hand now, but if things go my way in here. You are dead, Bitch." He didn't even wait for a response and turned towards the door.

They entered "The Widows nest", a local hang out for the Overlords. Inside was smoky and reeked of booze. Against the back wall was an oak bar with a mirrored shine that reflected the dire faces of the many patrons that stared into it. Over the Bar, against the wall, was a sign that read "There IS no top shelf", a funny sign relating to the kind of crowd a bar such as this might cater to. In the middle of the room were several pool tables and a jukebox. Chuck saw two of his Fellow Overlords playing a game of pool at the far table, however when he put his fingers up in a "O V" the official sign of the gang, he received nothing in return, this was a very VERY bad sign. Chuck swallowed hard as the Jukebox exploded into life with a very fitting song.

Chuck felt that he was all alone in this situation.

Chuck stopped for a moment when he saw his contact at the door of one of the back rooms at the Widows nest. Chuck wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but he thanked god that he had the Bag of Euphoria. If nothing else it may be the deciding factor that saved his life.

Chuck Swallowed hard again when he saw his contact smile at Monet and not him, waving her back into the room.

Chuck walked slowly, with Monet behind him. He gave himself about a 40/60 chance of living. The only thought in his mind is that he wished he would have gotten high.
A smile, a simple gesture, and the helicopter swerved to the side. "A date it is then!" The man chuckled. "I'll buy you dinner and you'll tell me your life-story, how interesting."

It was abundantly clear by the expression on his face that he was teasing at this point. Eddy had always found it important in difficult times to face them with a smile. Not that he had known much else but difficult times, but he smiled nevertheless. If you didn't make the best of the situation by working with what you had than you didn't deserve to complain. He also didn't believe in giving up on potential assets once he had recovered them.

It had been pure luck that had brought him to that rooftop. The testflight of the first civilian helicopter in working order since the war had gone without a hitch up untill that point, and Ed was just expressing his pride to the pilot when he saw the disturbance on the roof. His ever churning mind had quickly concluded that the woman was skilled enough to escape the armed guards of the nightclub, but that she'd be overrun soon enough. Eddy could always use another skilled personality in his 'organization' and had therefor offered her the option of escape at the risk of getting in trouble with the overlords.

The whole charade up till now was just to see if she could be trusted. Was she a loose cannon? did she draw simple conclusions from obscure hints? Was she secretive or devious?

On the whole eddy was happy with how things went, and as the helicopter touched down in what he liked to call his 'backyard' (an abandoned parking lot just behind the building he used as a base of operations.) he gallently opened the door for his female companion, keeping his guard, but allowing some of his natural charm to slip through.

"After you, M'lady" he said in a near whisper as the rotorblades died down and he pointed towards the garage doors that were slowly sliding open. "I insist..."
Monet smiled widely as Chuck told her that he didn't have her back, and in fact, planned to kill her.

"You may have the upper hand now..." Chuck began which she just ignored the rest of what he was saying. Small man trying to talk big was all it was to her. She knew he was on the outs with his own gang and she knew that she was well worth the money that she was getting paid was well worth it to the Overlords. With another small smile she followed Chuck into the "Widow's Nest" and was taken aback by the smell of booze, it was a welcoming smell to Monet of course, but something about it was a bit off. At the far end of the bar was her mark's contacts playing pool with themselves. Classy, mutha fuckas playin' a game with their sticks, shoulda figured. She thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and placing Chuck's gun in her pocket, letting him walk to his own funeral march.

Chuck did some stupid sign with his hands but was rejected, but Monet got a smile from the contacts and she marched forward, making sure to not leave her back open to attack. She grabbed Chuck's shirt and shoved him forward and into the back room where the gang was waiting.

"I see you made it out okay Chuck, pity." The overlord leader of the bar chuckled.

"Yeah, here's yo man, now pay up or yo ass won't get his ass back ya mean?" Monet curled her lip aggressively, her grip tightening on her sawn-off shotgun and Chuck's gun.

"Well that wouldn't be a problem for us. He's messed up, and I think teaching him a lesson would be a good idea, make an example out of him, but if you shot him, well then we'd have a problem because he still is one of our own," The overlord laughed pompously as he picked up a wad of cash and smacked it in his hands a couple of times, "In fact I think we will make an example out of him. He's your cut of the deal Monet, you've provided a great service to us, in fact I'd like you to join us, be a member of the best gang around."

"Yo ass has GOT to be trippin' I ain't joinin' yo stupid ass gang, I got my own shit to deal with a'ight?" Monet pulled out Chuck's gun and fired off a round, directly into the Overlord's head before grabbing Chuck and pulling him out and into the safety of the main bar, behind a pool table.

"Fuck, now I went an' done some stupid shit, here's yo gun back, don't try to shoot me cause they gunna kill yo ass all the same, might as well help a sistah out ya mean?" She nodded, a few shots peppering the side of the pool table.
The Sweat ran in a steady stream down chucks face. It was as if there was a down spout on his forehead; It ran down his chin and onto his chest. Seeing someone in a situation such as this, that amount of perspiration was no surprise. However Chuck was only partly sweating due to the fact that he was about to die, mostly, it was because of the withdrawals. It had been hours since his last dose of Klonopin. He needed it like pizza needs cheese.

Chucks vision was going a little hazy when he was thrust back into reality by a loud ~BanG~. When he looked up he saw that the Overloard boss, and the man that Chuck suspected would be his killer, fall to the ground. Dead.

"What the Fuck!?" Chuck said aloud as he was pulled back by Monet. That crazy bitch really did have his back, Chuck could hardly believe it. Then something else happened that would forever chance his opinion of her. She handed him his gun.

"Fuck, now I went an' done some stupid shit, here's yo gun back, don't try to shoot me cause they gunna kill yo ass all the same, might as well help a sistah out ya mean?" She nodded, a few shots peppering the side of the pool table.

Bits of splintered wood flew into Chucks face as he looked at Monet with nothing short of adoration, at least as much as the Now ex Overlord could show. He raised his hand to his forehead and wiped away some of the excess moisture before chambering a round into his gun. He was ready, now more than ever, to break from the gang. His hand shook a little, but not from fear. His eye sight had, for the moment at least, became steady again as he sighted up a near by overlord and squeezed the Trigger. He and Monet had become, in a moments time, a team of sorts. Chuck wannest sure how long it would last, but as the bullet from his gun flew from the barrel he knew one thing, he had her back.

As a few more overlords came from the back room, each brandishing a different type of firearm, Chuck spotted someone that sent his heart racing, an overlord by the name of " Project Pete". Pete was a member of the Lords and also one of the biggest dealers of Klonopin, and Chuck had a feeling that he most likely had several bottles of the drug on him at the moment. Without any regard for his own safety he jumped up from behind the table and ran low towards the unsuspecting Project Pete. Then he pistol whipped his across the face, wanting to save ammo, sending the dealer to the floor. Next, and with the speed of 10 men, he rifled through his pockets until he found what he wanted - What he needed - a full bottle of Klonopin. With it secured in his hand he crawled back to the table where Monet was, this all took place in a matter of no more than 30 seconds.

With bullets flying all around Chuck spun the cap off the bottle and dry swallowed 4 of the pills he had been a slave to for ten plus years, they tasted sweet in his mouth and he felt like Iron man in an instant.

"Alright Motherfuckers!!" HE yelled, hoping Monet was ready for one of his trade mark crazy moves " Get ready to burn in hell" With that Chuck Stood up and began firing at his ex gang members.
Monet fired a couple of shots over the pool table and looked to Chuck who was giving her a stupid stunned look. He didn't look well but he quickly snapped out of it and fired a bit, charging away from the table for a moment before coming back, and quickly popping some pills. It must've given him some form of courage because he shouted out and stood, spraying bullets from his gun haphazardly it seemed.

"Damn, you is one crazy ass honky. Fuck, migh' as well do the same. BRING IT MUTHA FUCKAHS!" Monet spun around, stood and fired repeatedly, taking down a few of the gang members and having a bullet graze her arm before running off to the bar and diving behind it, shooting a couple more gang members as she did.

"CHUCK GET US THE FUCK OUTTA HUR!" Monet shouted as she began to reload her gun. "YO ASS KNOWS THIS FUCKIN' PLACE BETTER 'N I DO!" She shouted, standing up and firing a few more shots before ducking, the adrenaline in her veins helping her ignore the wound she had suffered.
Gun smoke and the sour smell of blood filled the air. Many of the Overlords were mortally wounded or lay dying, giving off final prayers or screams for their mothers as they died. It was a bloody mess. However another wave of Overlords ran from the back room, cocking guns and yelling obscenities. It was on, and as Chuck reloaded his weapon he noticed Monet was as crazy as he was. By this point he had definitely begun to see her in a new light. Whatever agenda she had prior to taking the job for the overlords was now over, Chuck knew. From this point on she would be hunted by the vicious gang, in other words, she was in the same boat as chuck. Just as a bullet came whizzing by Chucks face, close enough for him to feel the heat of the round, he heard Monet. She was yelling, but it was hard to hear over the barrage of gunfire, however he did manage to catch one snippet.


Chuck nodded before emptying the rest of his clip into the on coming Overlords. He knew they would keep coming until their immediate numbers were exhausted, then they would get more. Truly a blood thirsty bunch of ruthless killers. He knew they would have to get back to the car, so Chuck Ran hoping to hell Monet would follow. They got to the car and Chuck jumped in the Driver seat, looking back for just a second to see advancing Overlords. He slammed the car into first and gunned the engine, leaving a trail of black rubber behind them.