| It's a Barnum and Bailey world | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 13 2017, 11:54 PM (66 Views) | |
| Jack Kelly | Nov 13 2017, 11:54 PM Post #1 |
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Jack had lived a life of never enough, that was what he felt. Never enough attention, never enough love, never enough money, never enough food. If he had had parents, he didn't really no about them. Honestly, he had to have someone who had made sure he had survived but he just couldn't think of anyone. His first real memories were of running around the streets in a pack of other children. He remembered adults yelling at them, telling them they were thieves, but Jack also remembered not caring much. He had a right to live, didn't he? Those words had felt familiar, as if someone had told him that rather than his childish mind having come up with it. Really, when one was a kid, there weren't a whole lot of thoughts like that. You just...existed as a kid and he had but he had been told he deserved to exist, just like the kids that were walking around hand in hand with their parents eating candy that they had been given. Growing up the street had hardened Jack, but he felt like it had also sliced away the edges of himself. Everyone started like those chubby babies he had seen in strollers sometimes; then you grew up. Sometimes you just got chubbier and happier, but Jack? He had been shown how crummy life was and each day it took a little bit more from him. If you didn't have money, you didn't get to eat, which were two of the biggest things in anyone's life. People got awful odd about what rights someone had these days, it felt like. Jack <i>had</i> tried to doing things properly at first. He had tried finding jobs that would take him, jobs that would give him money so he didn't have to steal. Something always happened. A job was awful and not worth the time, a job was good but he had been kicked out for someone else, a job decided to just stop paying him, he had gotten into a fight with someone he worked with and apparently that wasn't acceptable. There was always a reason. There was always a problem. <p> He grew older, he aged, he dealt with the life he had been given. At some point, he learned how to be real slick with stealing. He had a little crew of fellow street rats that had been dealt a hard hand. It had all started pretty simply too. As tempting as it was to steal from tiny stores, stores that had been in a family for generations, they avoided it. Jack's logic with that was simply that those people had done nothing wrong. They were doing the best they could and the boys could probably remember kindnesses given to them from those sorts of stores. A job here or there, a piece of candy or a bit of food. Hell, even just a kind word when the rest of the world treated them like trash. Mostly, in the beginning, they had gone after places that had wronged them. Maybe it was someone tossing one of Jack's boys out, maybe it was someone stiffing one of his boys on honest money. Whatever the case was, they had focused on those places and they had mostly just stolen things from the shelves. Sometimes it was useless stuff that they had no use for but sometimes it was more valuable, sometimes it was something they could work with. They slowly began to work their way up until one day, Jack had just been lying in a bed amongst his boys and said it might be awful easy to rob a bank. They had the man power, he said, they had the trust of each other. Taking money from the bank? Why, that could be as easy as robbing some of the stores they had taken over. It had been an idea fueled by maybe a little too much alcohol but when the fog had cleared, he had thought 'why not'? So they had. They had and it had been such an amazing success. For the first time in Jack's life, he had money and he had felt powerful. This was what he had been missing every second he had lived, he decided. <p> Somewhere along the way he had met Spot Conlon. The guy was from another part of New York – Brooklyn, he would snarl as if it was the most important thing in the world – and he had been much like Jack. He had never had enough either. And he had never been satisfied with having not enough. So it had seemed almost natural to join their forces. IT wasn't a smooth blend, honestly. Both Jack and Spot had been a little too similar for comfort with just enough differences to make them a bit like gun powder waiting to go off. They both had their grand ideas, how they wanted to do things, but considering they had the same ideals, most of the time the boys just let them bash their heads together until they figured out what they were doing. It was always pretty simple. They didn't hurt anyone innocent; cops were fair game but it was better to avoid them. People were always on your side if you weren't going in guns blazing. They didn't don't anyone's money that had come from hard earned work. After all, hadn't they lived an entire life with someone always taking from them? What kind of men would they be if they did that? At the end of the day, Spot was a decent co-leader. Between the two of them, they had made runs all over the United States. They had become <i>famous</i> even, people were calling them thieves, but also they were calling them <i>heroes</i>. Depending on the newspaper, people were cheering them on because they were doing what no one else had been able to do for years – moving up. They weren't chained down to the lives they had been given. They weren't caught up in slowly drowning because they had no money. It helped that Jack and Spot had tried to make an effort to give back to the community. Sure they kept a lot of money for themselves, but there had been more money to give to people that didn't have none either. <p> The problem was that while Jack and Spot were relatively...not so good heroes, there were others out there that weren't half as honorable, he supposed the word was. There were plenty of thieves out there, plenty of robbers that didn't care about no one but getting their money. There had been deaths he had heard. Hostages taken and left for dead. A part of Jack was sad for that; they had just been honest people trying to make an honest living. But more than that, Jack had always thought it was bad for business. The Delancy brothers especially had been a thorn in their sides. Oscar and Morris didn't seem to care who they hurt, like they were two rabid dogs that sounded like they weren't even after the money. They had made a hit on some bank that they had hit before, rumors had it. They had taken hostages, a few of them. There had been bodies littering some of the way, but the cops had found the trail gone cold. They weren't like Jack. Jack knew those rotten bastards more than he wished he did. So he had followed their trail and he had found them...and he had beat the ever living shit out of them. A part of him realized that there was still one more hostage there, but it hadn't really registered as he was making sure the two of them weren't getting up again any time soon. When that was done, he turned to the hostage...and froze. Jack had always been a lover of beautiful women, but he couldn't deny a handsome enough man could turn his head too. The man that was there seemed slender, maybe a little fragile but that just could have been the fear. He had a nose that was a bit too big but seemed to work for his face and the kind of face he just wanted to stroke. "<b>You all right, darlin'?</b>" he found himself asking, "<b>They hurt you much?</b>" |
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| David Jacobs | Nov 13 2017, 11:54 PM Post #2 |
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David had never been the type of guy to get involved in anything dangerous. He had been a quiet kid. He had been a good kid. He had gotten good grades in school, had never been punished in the classroom. His parents loved him, his older sister loved him. When Les was born, his baby brother loved him, too. They were a close family. They weren't a rich family, of course, but maybe that was why they were close. Necessity and the trials and errors of their lives had bound them all together, along with their religion. That didn't mean life had been easy, though. David had been an easy target at school because of his good grades, his general demeanor and even his religion. His family had never been targeted or anything of that nature, but there was always the possibility of it. When he had grown older, when he had started going to college, David had thought maybe he would break out of the mold but he never really had. People still didn't like him all that much, so he put up a bit of a barrier between himself and them. Not a hard one, not a permanent one, but enough for him to escape easily if people seemed to not be wanting to be around him. The other barrier had been the simple fact that he didn't like women. Oh, he liked them in friendly terms. Romantically? Sexually? He had no desire for them whatsoever and that was a bit of a problem. It wasn't quite illegal, wasn't quite unheard of, but it was still something that not everyone advertised and it wasn't something David felt comfortable talking about to anyone. Or almost anyone. Sarah knew; Sarah and Katherine. Sarah because he trusted her implicitly and Katherine by necessity. He and Katherine had met in college and everyone had just begun to assume that the two intelligent people involved in learning about journalism and changing the world were going to get married and settle down together. They might have, if David had any interest in her - or Katherine in him, really. She had told him he was very handsome and very sweet but not her type. When he had asked what her type was, he had caught the subtle shift in gaze to where his sister has busy sewing some bit of embroidery on an order that she had taken. From there, it seemed almost natural to let everyone think they were together. They moved in together - a scandal, surely, because they weren't married - but it meant that Katherine came over to dinners. It meant he could invite Sarah over anytime and then surreptitiously slip out to give them alone time or even for the three of them to just enjoy the company of one another. It was perfect, in a way, because everyone left them alone. Once in awhile his mother would sigh over their not being married and their being no grandchildren, once in awhile he would know when her father had been storming over it again because Katherine's face would be full of its own storm clouds but mostly they were left alone. They both worked together, too, which everyone seemed to think absolutely hilarious for some reason. The constant joke at the newspaper was that David couldn't escape his girl at work or at home, which always made him roll his eyes. It was like he was supposed to hate his supposed girlfriend or something. It wasn't something he ever understood, but he just smiled and went back to his work - putting that wall up between his coworkers that he had before with his fellow students. The life was mostly a good one, but it was a lonely one. He left his apartment by himself many times to give Sarah and Katherine private time. When he stayed, he felt like the third wheel. Going to his parents and Les wasn't much better, honestly. Maybe that was why he went out to run errands an awful lot. Katherine never minded doing things, but David practically jumped whenever there was something to do. Today, it had been a simple run to the bank. He and Katherine had wisely decided to keep separate bank accounts - something that Katherine had been incensed about, since she needed "permission" from a man to have her own - but sometimes they needed to transfer money to one another for rent, groceries or other bills that they needed to take care of. That had been David's plan, before he headed to work and then maybe out to lunch with his sister or with Katherine. An easy, simple day. Life didn't have plans for that, though. He had been standing in line, idly wondering about whether he should take the girls to a deli that had opened up recently or maybe even see if they could go home to spend time with his parents for their all too short lunch, when there had been a sudden commotion. David liked to think that he could be brave. That he could do a heroic thing. Whether that was true or not, he supposed he wasn't going to find out today because at the sight of the very, very large guns and the loud yelling he froze. His eyes widened and he could feel his heart slamming into his chest. He heard the orders to get on the ground, of course, but his body was frozen in place and all he could do was feel his mouth go dry as he mentally told himself to move and do something. The men hadn't been pleased with his standing, had come over and actually shoved him onto the ground hard enough he was sure his shoulder had bruised. That was fine, though. They hadn't shot him or anyone else yet. Yet, however, had turned out to be the key word. Once they'd gotten their money, they'd plugged a teller and a couple of innocent people before they'd grabbed hostages - and maybe they remembered him or maybe they thought his face looked like the kind cops would hesitate to shoot at the bad guy over but whatever the case he was grabbed, too. If the police asked him where they had gone and what routes they had taken, he knew he would be useless because it all passed by in a blurry haze of fear and blood. These guys weren't afraid to rough up their hostages and David was already sporting a bloody nose from a pop he'd gotten simply because his mouth had run away with him, his sarcastic streak getting away from him in a moment it shouldn't have. Time seemed to both crawl and fly ahead as he was taken to some dingy warehouse and essentially thrown against a wall, left to sit there. He didn't know if the other hostages were alive. He didn't know if the men had just left him here to essentially either starve to death or find a way out while still tied up. He just knew his nose hurt and he could still taste the metallic copper of blood from where it had trickled down. The place gave odd sounds and he tried to not jump at every once. Likely it was the building settling, but his brain told him this was the moment someone was coming to just finish him off. Then there was the sound and sight of someone flying through the air somewhat, crashing hard into the ground, beaten and bloody and not getting up anytime soon. It took David a moment to piece together that this was one of the bank robbers. Had the police arrived? But he'd heard no sirens and saw no policeman. Instead there was just one man standing there, staring down at the unconscious body with a look of disgust on his face. He turned towards David after a moment, as if he had only just now realized he was there. He turned towards David and froze - even as David froze. His jaw was so strong, chiseled, and looked like it could take a few punches. His eyes were somehow both hard and soft at the same time and his dark hair looked suspiciously like something David wanted to run his fingers through. A part of his brain said this man looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It was like something he had seen once and only vaguely remembered. When he spoke, all of his thoughts came screeching to a halt because that pet name and God that voice. "Y-yeah... they, uh, they punched me once but th-that's it." He hated himself for stuttering but he didn't think he could have done anything else with the words the other man had spoken. |
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| Jack Kelly | Nov 13 2017, 11:56 PM Post #3 |
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Jack was pretty damn glad that he hadn't brought Spot with him. Spot was a good guy to have tagging along if you were going to need some muscle, but this? This was something that needed a finer touch and truth be told, the Delancy brothers might have been tough, but they weren't by any means worrisome to Jack. Maybe if he hadn't taken them by surprise, it might have been. But the fact of the matter was that if he had brought Spot, old Oscar and Morris would be as dead as the people they had left behind. And believe Jack, he wanted that too – people like Oscar and Morris gave bad names to people like Spot and Jack, but there was one thing Jack always remembered. The American people wanted to bring the justice. Sure they might be pleased that justice had been served because they were dead, but that wasn't what they <i>really</i> wanted. They wanted the cops to bring in those that had caused the problems and they wanted to see the juries make the final choice. Maybe Oscar and Morris would die, but the American people would want to see it done. He dusted off his hands a tiny bit, glaring at the slumped over bodies before turning his attention to the hostage. When he spoke, there was a bit of a stutter, but for the life of him, Jack couldn't tell if maybe that was the fear or maybe Jack's words. He crouched down in front of the other man, reaching out so he could take the man's chin in hand and turn his head this way and that. "<b>Looks like you's gonna have yourself a pretty nice shiner, but you's gonna be okay.</b>" He didn't say the guy was lucky, he didn't say that this guy was one of the few that survived the Delancy brothers' little rampage. The guy was probably thinking about that well enough on his own because unless they had picked him up very last in some kind of random hole in the wall place, then this guy had been there at the bank and he had been along for the ride ever since. America was going to be up in arms about it and he was sure there was going to be an outcry about Jack's sort but that was all to be expected. <p> Carefully, he got an arm on the guy's elbow and began to haul him up. "<b>You got a name?</b>" Spot had always sneered at him for saying it like that. People always had names, didn't they, he'd demand. People didn't just go nameless, what was he, stupid? It usually set the two of them off at each other's heels, snipping and sniping like they were hungry dogs. Jack liked Spot...to a certain extent. Sometimes the man drove him right up a wall that made him think that maybe, just maybe they would never be able to work out, that they'd been foolish to think this sort of partnership would work. They never seemed to go too far, though. They never seemed to cross that one last threshold of things that turned them from allies to enemies. "<b>The name's Jack,</b>" he offered, unable to keep from puffing out his chest a little as he did. There were people out there that said Jack's confidence, his pride, was going to get him killed. After all, wasn't he a criminal? Didn't he go around robbing banks? Wasn't all his exploits getting written up in the papers? Jack Kelly was the sort of man that made the news and hell, there had probably been pictures of him plastered everywhere. He shouldn't be giving out his name so easily, at the very least he should be giving some other name, some name that people didn't expect. He remembered once when he had first started this whole thing, he and the boys had talked endlessly about the fact that people sure did seem to want to think what they wanted. People could gloss right over a man if he didn't think they were worth nothing. Hadn't he and the boys cackled about it later when they were notorious in town, notorious enough that they had their mugs plastered up in places and they had given fake names and people carried on? People would look at him and they would think he looked oddly familiar, they might think he looked like the infamous Jack Kelly, but if he said his name was John or Jay or Adam, people would shake their heads and move on with their lives. <p> He moved them out of the little safe house that hadn't been so safe, wondering if he had time to go back to kick Oscar or Morris in the teeth. Probably not. There was never any sort of time for that kind of thing, though he would have been lying if he said he hadn't made time for that at certain points. Still, he helped Davey into the car, watching him as he did. He had been right about Davey being tall. He was taller than him – though that wasn't hard to do, Spot would have laughed (he stopped laughing, though, when Jack had pointed out that Spot was shorter than <i>him</i>; it usually resulted in them rolling on the floor until one had a black eye). But Jack supposed he could forgive it because of the rest of the package was very tempting, very tantalizing in a way that said he shouldn't ignore it. Not that he had intentions of doing that, of course. Not unless he got firmly pushed away. But maybe all of that was jumping the gun a bit. Davey didn't seem like the sort of man who was use to the violence he had partaken in; he didn't seem to have dealt with dead bodies and guns being pointed at him. Jack had dealt with both, he was an old hat at it all. He climbed into the driver's side of the car, settling in like it was at his most comfortable point, like he couldn't be much more relaxed. "<b>So where I takin' you, doll?</b>" he questioned. The logical answer was, he supposed, the cops. He should take Davey into town and take him to the cops where he could make a statement about the Delancy brothers. A more vocal part of Jack said that was stupid. The cops would find the trail eventually, what good did it go to them to have Davey there? He supposed he was circling himself in logic, though, and just being prickly about the police. They had been too slow to stop more people from dying, what did they need the one Jack had saved? <p> There was silence in the car as he pulled them out onto the road, though he couldn't blame Davey. Like he had thought, Davey didn't seem like the sort of man who had known much violence in his life. Maybe he knew things that weren't so good, but this had probably been a first for him. And Davey also seemed like the sort of person who wasn't going to stop thinking about something if he was given a chance to do it. "<b>So, Davey,</b>" he broke the silence, glancing over to flash a slight grin at the other man, "<b>what kind of a job you do?</b>" Maybe this was the wrong time to be asking that sort of thing. Maybe Davey would just stare at him in something close to horror because what the hell, who asked things so casually after that sort of thing? But what else did Jack do? Did he let Davey sit there and think about what had happened, did he let Davey sit there in silence and remind himself that of the hostages, he was the only survivor? Maybe it was a bit crass to be asking things of him, but the way Jack saw it, it was going to help him cope. If he was answering stupid little questions, then he wasn't thinking on what happened. Win-win scenario. |
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| David Jacobs | Nov 13 2017, 11:56 PM Post #4 |
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The other man considered him for a moment and David finally realized that maybe this was a bad thing. The two guys had been tough, scary. They had killed people without a second thought and they were strong. David only had to feel his nose and cheek and eye to know that for a fact. Yet they were lying crumpled on the ground, bruised and battered and bloody and that was all thanks to one guy. Maybe he should be trying to back away - as if he had anywhere to go - but he felt frozen again. Partly frozen by the words, by the looks, and yes, by the fear. If he could do that then there was no telling what he could do to David. But he didn't do anything except walk closer and just crouched down onto the ground. He reached out and gently took David's chin - a touch that sent fire through him, honestly - and turned his head this way and that, looking at him intently. David knew he looked a mess. His nose wasn't broken, but he could still feel where he'd been hit, could still taste the metallic tinge of blood on his lips, and he didn't need anyone to tell him that he was bruised. He could feel it just fine. "Yeah, I, uh, I kind of figured that," he said with a small wince. That sounded ungrateful, but it was true. He could feel it. Whether or not he was going to be okay, though, that was something he wasn't quite sure about. So far, this man had been nice. That didn't mean he would stay nice, though. He could do just about anything to David and it wasn't as if David was exactly a fighter. One man alone he might be able to try and take on but... he didn't know how to fight. This man quite obviously did and he had trounced those other two with no problem at all. He would probably just break David in half, honestly. The other man gently reached out to take his elbow and then slowly stood up. David had only about two choices; stand up or awkwardly let his arm go up along with the guy as he continued to sit there. He chose the first and slowly pushed himself up along with the hold. His body was mostly okay, although he could feel how shaky he was from the nerves and the tense way he had been holding himself since this had all gone on. He shook his arms out a tiny bit, trying to get them to stop even though he knew that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. The other man asked if he had a name and David considered not telling him... except what would that get him? Disdain, probably, maybe even suspicion and this guy, for all intents and purposes, had just saved him. It would be almost rude to not introduce himself. "David," he said after a moment's hesitation. The other man offered up his name and he seemed to actually stick out his chest somewhat as he did so. David wondered why. Was he just proud of his name? Proud of what he had done here? He could admit that the man looked familiar but it was a distant sort of familiar. It was the sort of familiar that you had seen in the news or on the street in passing. It was the familiar that you might have made up in your head because they had a face that looked close to someone else you knew or had seen. He supposed he couldn't judge if the man was proud of his name or of himself. He had single-handedly taken out two very dangerous and threatening men all by himself and not he was essentially rescuing David. That was something to be proud of. "I owe you, Jack," he said, and maybe that was a bad thing to say. The guy might be nice right now but he might decide to 'collect', too and who knew what he might want for his help. The other man hadn't really let go of his elbow since he had helped pick him up, but that was okay. David found he somewhat needed a steadying force on his arm and someone telling him what to do because right now he was pretty damn lost. His brain kept reminding him quite cheerfully that he had been kidnapped, that people had died, that his nose and cheek were throbbing, that he was still alive somehow but there were plenty of signs that said he wouldn't have been for much longer. It was something that only made his hands shake all the more, to be honest, and he found himself almost surprised when he was standing in front of a car and the door was being opened for him. He slid in, still feeling as if he was in a daze, and waited for Jack to go to the other side. The other man slid into the driver's side, closing the door and sitting in it like the car was built specifically to hold him. Maybe it was, for all David knew. Then Jack spoke and David felt his cheeks heat up again at the words. David wouldn't say he had never had anyone flirt with him, but all of the flirting had been stilted and somewhat rushed. He wouldn't say hidden, but it was the first word that popped into his mind; things that didn't really go anywhere and he had just shrugged it off as better that way. He didn't want to shrug this off now, though. He wondered where he should go. To the police? Back to the bank? To work? God, work probably was wondering what happened to him and Katherine as well - and she might tell his family and they would be worried, too. Thoughts swam around in his head, warring with one another, until he slammed almost viciously down on them and gave himself a moment of mental silence. "Home," he finally said. "Just... just home." Belatedly, he realized Jack had no idea where that was. He rattled off the address, wondering if anyone would be there. A part of him hoped they would. He could assure Katherine he was okay and he could relax. A part of him hoped no one was around though because... because he just hoped for a lot of things. A part of him said he should be talking. He should be thanking Jack more for saving him, finding out about his savior, telling him details so they could report this to the police. He couldn't, though. He was still shocked, honestly, and afraid. Just because he had saved him didn't mean this man was nice. it didn't mean he might not come after David later for something. Mostly, though, he was just tired and scared. It was hard to make conversation after the things he had seen today. Jack, though, seemed to be almost determined that they make conversation. He glanced over at him and there was a grin that made David's chest tighten, made his heart do flip-flops in it and he wondered if maybe his heart wasn't just going to give out on him right then and there. It didn't, though, and he was finally able to respond to the question. A part of him wanted to say his name was David, thank you, but there was something about that nickname that stayed his tongue in regards to it. "I'm a reporter," he finally told the other man. Not that he was a very famous reporter or someone who covered anything major. He was better off than Katherine, who was stuck doing the less hard hitting stories simply because she was female, but most of his stuff was small, local things that nobody cared about. Everyone wanted to know about the state of the banks, the state of the depression. They wanted to know about alcohol and bootleggers and mafia men, not who had won some state fair show or the like. Still, a job was a job and you earned your right to move up in the journalism industry. No one let you cover the good stories right away. "What about you?" he asked. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation, honestly. The countryside flew past them in blurs and he should be thinking about the people that had died, the men that had taken them, but instead he was just glancing over every few minutes to look at that rugged jawline and the eyes that seemed to sparkle once in awhile with good humor. It was hard to think about anything but that, honestly. |
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| Jack Kelly | Nov 14 2017, 12:01 AM Post #5 |
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Without thinking, Jack pulled out a handkerchief. It had been a stupid purchase, he had told himself. Of course it had been stupid. It was a scrap of fabric used for the nose? That was...well, that was just a waste, if anyone asked him. But the thing was that <i>rich</i> people had it. When he and Spot had started making it big time, they hadn't thought twice about buying the stuff they had seen rich people have. It was a silly thing to want, to buy, but he had had the money so he had bought it. It was helpful now, carefully dabbing at the blood under the guy's nose. He raised an eyebrow at the comment, snorting just the tiniest bit. "<b>You use that smart mouth with them? I'm surprised you ain't hurt worse.</b>" Jack supposed he should be scowling and glaring, saying he had just saved this guy's ass but Jack got the feeling he didn't look like a copper. In his own mind's eyes, he was every inch the outlaw – handsome, dashing with a rogue's smile and eyes that promised danger. The guy had watched him beat down two guys that had shown no qualm with killing someone, or at least seen the aftermath. He should be treating Jack with a little respect. At the same time, Jack could admire a little sass. He had had his share of girls (and a few guys) who had simpered at him and hung off him or been in the bank when he had robbed it and they had all been...well, quick to just agree. A lot of 'yes, Jack' and 'no, Jack' and don't get him wrong, he liked that, but it got old. There was something about a person who could think on their feet that held some kind of interest. Maybe it was <i>because</i> all he had during his life were the people that agreed with him and rushed to side with him. Maybe he was just looking a gift horse in the mouth, though. <p> The man – David, he said his name was – stood slowly as if he wasn't entirely sure he could stand. Maybe he couldn't. He had <i>seemed</i> fine outside of his face, but Jack knew there were a lot more sneaky things. Why, he had a guy die on him because his rib got broken, apparently it had gone and pierced something it wasn't suppose...which admittedly would have been <i>anything</i>. It could also be the fact that that the poor guy had been kidnapped and had to watch people die. Not everyone was use to life. Sometimes even those who <i>were</i> use to it were still shaken. "<b>Well, Davey,</b>" the nickname slipped out, like it was meant for him. Though if he had introduced himself as David, he probably expected to be referred to as that. "<b>Did they get you's anywhere else? I see the face, but did they rough you up anymore?</b>" It was important to know, because that might change their eventual destination too. Jack wasn't entirely sure he could walk him in to some doctor's without being recognized. He didn't want to ruin potential care for Davey because someone realized they had THE Jack Kelly present. Though maybe there wasn't a whole lot of weight to his name anymore. Davey didn't seem to recognize his name – he didn't look stunned or relieved or scared. He just...stood there. Shock, right, that was a thing. Later on, after he got himself settled, he would realize he had been rescued by the one and only Jack Kelly. He still waved a hand, though, when Davey went on to say that he owed him. "<b>Nah, this was a public service. These two needed to be taken out like trash.</b>" They didn't need Oscar and Morris Delancy causing trouble for those of them that were trying to make an honest living from this sort of work. Besides, the way Davey looked with his modest suit pegged him as a working stiff. He probably worked a job that paid him too little for everything he did. How could Jack collect a debt from a man like that? <p> Davey was going into shock something fierce, as if he hadn't been all ready. Jack could see the faint tremors in his hands and he felt oddly stiff in Jack's grasp. Then again, that could have been the fact that Jack was holding him. Not everyone wanted a cuddle, after all, but Jack doubted that was it. It wasn't even the idea that he thought himself so desirable that there was no other option for it. No, if he were still some street kid who had no clue how the real world work, how would he have felt to be in Davey's shoes? He would have been nervous and shaky, he would be a jumble of confused thoughts that didn't quite know what they wanted to be. Most of all, he thought, he would be blank. It would be the weird fuzziness that came when he woke up after sleeping a long time and having lied on his arm too long – pins and needles all poking at his skin. It would be a bit like that. All he needed to focus on was getting Davey out of there. They could worry about everything else later. When he found himself thinking that, he shook the thoughts away. What was this 'they' business? He had saved Davey and that was that. He was going to get Davey to where he needed to be and that would be the end of his involvement. The "everything else" that came with it would be left with Davey's...family, his girl, his guy for all Jack knew. Jack didn't need to be a part of this. But when Davey blushed over the nickname, he thought the man looked awful cute and what if he didn't have anybody, huh? What if he was all alone? Davey was quiet after the question, though, and Jack just drove. They'd have a little bit of ways before they found something that would lead them to something other than fucking no where. Finally Davey spoke and Jack was relieved. Home? Jack could do home. That was better than the police. Even as he thought it, he stupidly went, "<b>You sure? No cops? I mean, I was gonna call 'em and let 'em clean up this, but...</b>" A part of him thought Davey should be asking to go to the cops; he seemed like a fine upstanding citizen, so why not? "<b>But, hey, home it is.</b>" In the end, that was better for Davey, Jack thought. With the address in mind, he continued on with the little drive. <p> The key was keeping people aware, Jack had found. You could push off death for a long while if you kept someone talking and responding and this wasn't even a deathly situation. He liked to think that maybe Davey was at least getting under control of himself, that the questions were rooting him to the here and now. Jack wouldn't have anything but hope for that, anyway, because it wasn't like Davey was going to come out and say 'I'm melting down'. Who would? You didn't admit to weakness. He gave a soft whistle as Davey said he was a reporter. "<b>Hey, I know any of your work then? What kinda stuff you report?</b>" A part of him wanted to ask if he had every covered the bank robberies, if he had seen any of the photographs that would (rarely) be printed in an article about him and Spot. But the problem with that was his vanity could get him killed. Right now, Davey might have an inkling of who he was in the way that a singer was on the tip of your tongue, but he didn't know it for sure. If he were to hint too heavily, to encourage Davey look deeper, he could be met with a cop at his door and being arrested. It had happened before, sure, but Jack was sure that he couldn't play off the same trick multiple times. Cops did get wise after awhile. He settled back in his seat, almost slouching as he smirked to himself. "<b>I'm an entrepreneur,</b>" he hedged, "<b>me and my partner, we do some work together.</b>" it was his own private joke with himself (mostly because spot didn't have a sense of humor and just rolled his eyes). The dream of America was that you could come out there and you could be anything, you could do anything, you just had to want it enough. And Jack? He had wanted to be rich, so he had worked to get that. How could anyone hate someone working for the American dream? |
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| David Jacobs | Nov 14 2017, 12:01 AM Post #6 |
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The other man remained crouched in front of him, just watching him closely as if he was studying him. Belatedly, David realized he probably was because he was probably trying to figure out how badly he was hurt. It was hard to judge that based solely off a bruised cheek and a bloody nose. It could be masking worse injuries or could just be superficial since face wounds always looked worse than any others. To his surprise, the guy pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. He brought it closer to David's face and very gently dabbed at the blood that hadn't fully dried yet. It made David hiss a tiny bit because while he didn't think his nose was broken, it was still tender - just like his cheek. It wasn't exactly a wonderful feeling having this guy dabbing at his nose... and yet it was a very, very nice feeling too. He tried to dismiss that because this man was a stranger. There was no sense in getting in over his head just yet. He winced a little at the raised eyebrow and the snort. "I may have said some things, yes," he commented, mumbling the words out and looking away somewhat. David hadn't been the most vocal of the people taken, but he certainly had let his smart mouth get away from him. It was something he did when he was stressed. He often didn't mean to come off so sarcastic in his conversations with people, but it always slipped out. This had been a bad time for it to slip out, however, and he was only lucky that they had decked him rather than put a bullet in his head. He tried to shy away from that thought, feeling the hairs on his arms raise some at it, feeling himself shivering just a tiny bit at the things that could have happened. The other guy held him steady, which was probably more than David could really ask for right now. He wanted to stiffen a little bit when the other man called him Davey rather than David, but it honestly didn't bother him as much as it normally would have. Maybe he was just too much in shock or maybe, a small voice said, it was like the other man was meant to say his name like that and probably couldn't say it any other way or it would just sound wrong. He blinked a little at the question, his brain working a little slower than it normally would have. Then he shook his head. "No. They just... punched me and shoved me a couple of times." He was lucky they had only done that. He was lucky that they hadn't shoved him so hard that he fell and broke anything or that he hadn't been shoved hard enough into a wall to break anything. Really, David had come out incredibly lucky in all of this and he didn't know how. Luck of the draw, he supposed. He just blinked again as the other man just shook his head at his words and said that this was a public service. "So you... knew them?" he questioned somewhat hesitantly. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. On the one hand, that could make this man just as bad as they had been, someone who had been wronged and was just out to collect whatever he wanted. On the other hand, maybe he just knew of them and had decided enough was enough. There was an awful lot of vigilantism nowadays. It wouldn't surprise David to see that that was the case here. The only thing keeping him walking, he was sure, was Jack's strong hold on him. It was a nice thing to feel, honestly, he couldn't deny that. David wasn't sure if he could be counted as having a type. He had seen handsome men that made him turn his head more than once, but he had never actively sought anyone out either. Jack, though, Jack was most definitely doing it for him. Sort of. It was all a bit jumbled right now but he was pretty sure that could be excused considering everything that had happened to him in such a short span of time. His mind flitted back and forth between all of the things that had happened, from the mundane to the horror filled moments, and it was hard to focus on any of it at all. It was much easier to focus on the man next to him than on any of his own thoughts. It was easier to think about the scenery flying by them as Jack drove at what felt like a somewhat breakneck speed out of there - although it also felt like it couldn't be fast enough for David right about now. He shook his head a little at Jack's question. He knew he should be going to the cops. Hell, he should probably be writing this all down because he was sure the bosses would have a field day knowing that David had been kidnapped by bank robbers and would want him to write it. Instead, all he wanted to do was just go home. "If you're going to call them, that's all that needs to be done. " Jack didn't seem like he wanted to question it, although maybe he should be since he was probably thinking clearer than David. But he just said home it was and he seemed to know where the address that David had given him was or at least he was pretending like he knew and that was just fine with David. That was one less thing that he had to do right now. There was a lengthy silence between the questions and he was okay with that. he was trying to slot himself into order, although it wasn't easy. On a normal day, it probably would have been easier but this was so far removed from a normal day that left felt like right. He would be getting himself into order, then he would remember a gun in his face or someone lying dead on the ground. It was hard to be normal after something like that. The other man whistled a little and asked the inevitable question. It was a welcome distraction at least and he just snorted a little. "No. Not unless you wanted to read about something of no importance, like a county fair. Stupid things like that. They don't give me the important stories. Too new, I guess." He knew he had to work his way up, but it was frustrating because there was no guarantee he could. The other guys might be there for years before one of them retired or decided to switch papers. David was stuck doing nothing of any importance. The other man slouched some in the seat, looking as relaxed as if they were just driving around for a picnic. David couldn't deny that he looked good like that, especially with the smirk on his face. Then the other man spoke and he felt his mouth go somewhat dry. He had probably been right, then, about the other guys running afoul of this man. "Oh God," he said after a few seconds. "You're a bootlegger." Maybe he shouldn't have shown he could put two and two together like that. That was all illegal, right? He could kill David for knowing that now. But, then again, he didn't seem all that bothered in saying something so damning or in David knowing it either. |
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| Jack Kelly | Nov 14 2017, 12:03 AM Post #7 |
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Careful, he had to be careful. It was one of those things that no one seemed to think a guy like Jack could do. Everyone seemed to think he was a violent, rough and tumble type. They weren't wrong, really. In this line of work, one <i>had</i> to be violent, one had to be willing to knock someone out. At the same time, Jack knew that a little kindness went a long way. Look how the people loved him and Spot because they had never thought to hurt innocent people that were just trying to do their jobs or maybe they were just out running some errands. Look how people remained loyal to Jack because rather than sneering at them to just go ahead and get themselves put back together, he had taken time and effort to fuss over them. Well, he said fussed, but it was more that he had simply taken care of them. He had cleaned up spilled blood, patched up wounds, to sit up when they were sick simply because they were sick. Loyalty could be bought, he had found, it just relied very heavily on the fact that the buying it was a lot of a time investment. He had dealt with enough busted noses to be careful here, but still his general nature made him want to just roughly pinch the flow of blood closed. He couldn't help his laugh as the guy said that he may have said some things. "<b>Look at you, must be a real tough guy to go sayin' anything to the likes of them.</b>" It...well, it kind of raised the guy in Jack's eyes. Plenty of people out there would have let themselves be too scared to say anything. Granted, some would say it was a really stupid move of him to have said anything. Most people should just stay quiet, try not to draw attention to themselves. Then again, Jack supposed if people were getting killed in front of him, he'd figure that his own death was coming, what did he care, really. <p> Jack supposed his was pretty guilty of the fact that he didn't <i>have</i> to be holding Davey up. He was sure that Davey could walk on his own, after all his legs weren't hurt were they? But Davey hadn't pushed him away, Davey hadn't told him to stop, and there was a part of Jack that really liked holding on to him. It was like he was some kind of dashing hero – that was never something he got to be. Oh, he was hero in some of the eyes of the people; he was taking money away from the people that plenty, leaving people with their own money to continue to live their lives. It wasn't the same thing as a proper hero. Proper heroes had to be selfless and do no wrong...which probably meant he wasn't a hero here either because he <i>had</i> punched out the teeth of a couple of people. "<b>Well, we can be thankful for small favors then.</b>" They could have done a lot worse. Jack had seen a litter of their "worse" too. Not just in the bodies that they had left this time. He and Spot had been around long enough to have seen how they had beaten down other people. It felt like everyone had seen pictures of the aftermath – victims with missing teeth, broken noses, gun wounds. The Delancy brothers weren't the kind of people that ever saw the point of being kind to people. They were going to get what they wanted and they didn't want anyone standing in their way. Trying to avoid bloodshed like Jack and Spot? Well that took a little more practice. "<b>Hm,</b>" he murmured in response to Davey's question. "<b>I wouldn't say I know 'em. I knew <i>of</i> 'em, but who hasn't really?</b>" That wasn't quite an answer, he supposed, because the papers were plastered with Jack and Spot as well as the Delancy brothers. That didn't mean they could be spotted on sight. It didn't mean that if Jack hadn't known them he would have been able to identify them so easily. <p> There was a reason, Jack felt, that he didn't stick around to help people. Usually, the major reason was that he had just wound up robbing a bank and he didn't want people spending too much time with him – the less time they were with him, the less they were able to give actual details about what he looked like. Sure there were pictures out there, but it was funny how a hat or parting his hair differently could fool a person. There was also the fact that he felt...adrift trying to take care of someone. With his boys it was easy. They were all pretty much tough as nails. They didn't need gentle words; they needed to be told they were fine and maybe a gentle scuff to the back of the head. At the same time, he had taken on this task, hadn't he? He was planning to see it through to the end because poor Davey here, well, he had gotten himself in an awful mess of a situation. How would it feel to know that you had been kidnapped and were the only one left alive? "<b>Fair enough,</b>" he finally said. "<b>Always thought there didn't need to be more than a phone call anyway. Why they's got to make it this big production of havin' someone come in and sit in an uncomfortable chair and have people loom about 'em like they's the criminals? Just makin' everything worse.</b>" Of course he understood if the criminal had gotten away. They would need to talk to the person, get descriptions. He was glad that he had taken care of things as it was. Life would be a lot simpler if these sorts of things could be taken into hand...except that was probably opening that there "Pandora's Box" because it meant that people could come after <i>him</i>. Whatever the case, he was almost relieved Davey had said they just needed to call the cops. Partly it was because Jack didn't have to go anywhere near a cop station, why chance it? But also...also, he didn't want to have Davey deal with the looming and the harsh words. It meant Jack could..take care of him. <p> The quiet was okay, he supposed. He still wanted to talk or hum or do anything. He felt blood coursing through his veins a lot like it did after a heist. Usually then the car was filled with lots of chatter – Spot crowing about how they had over taken those fools good, one of the boys they had brought along talking about how much money they had. Sometimes there was silence, but it was usually a satisfied one, as if they were content after a big meal. He gave a slight grin as Davey snorted, as he spoke. "<b>Hey, hey, those can be important. To the people that like them's some county fair. I'd like to read about a county fair – how am I gonna know if its worth goin' to if there ain't no one reportin' about it?</b>" It wasn't exactly a boast to make Davey feel better, either. Lots of people needed to be encouraged to these things these days. After all, time and money were both in precious few; who wanted to go to a county fair that turned out to be a flop when you could have been working and getting more money. "<b>You lookin' forward to movin' up that ladder when you get to do more stuff?</b>" It felt like it was a silly thing to ask. The way Davey had responded to his first question made it sound like he was chafing at the bit waiting to get more important stories. But...well, hey, maybe despite sounding like that, maybe he <i>liked</i> being a reporter on those sort of mild things. Someone had to, right? He shook his head a tiny bit, focusing instead on the silence before the storm. When Davey suddenly breathed those words, when he said that Jack was a bootlegger, he couldn't stop the laugh that exploded from his mouth. "<b>what?</b>" he said around his laughter. "<b>No! No, I ain't no bootlegger. Never dream of it!</b>" He suppose he shouldn't be casting stones, all things considered, but a bootlegger? |
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| David Jacobs | Nov 14 2017, 12:03 AM Post #8 |
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The other man just continued to very gently, very carefully dab at the blood that had trickled down from his nose. He was taking his time about it, which David was grateful for because it was so tender that even this made his head spin just a little. He hoped it wasn't broken, although he was fairly certain it wasn't. His cheek actually felt worse but there wasn't much of a way to discern how badly hurt that was unless it just kept on hurting for a few weeks. He knew it was bruised and a little bit swollen, but that was the same for his nose and that was about as far as he knew. He was no doctor and he had never had a broken anything before. He wasn't exactly an expert. The other man laughed a little at his words and David let his head tilt down some, feeling embarrassed. He knew saying things had been dumb but it honestly wasn't like he had planned to. In times of stress, things like that just slipped out with some people and David Jacobs just happened to be one of those people. "I didn't really plan on it, the words just came out before I could stop 'em," he said, feeling more than a little embarrassed... and filled with dread, too. His luck was random. The only reason he was alive was randomness. He could have been shot right in the face for his smart mouth or because the guys decided they didn't like his tie or his nose or just because he was the third person in a lineup of six. He had been lucky, but that only made it worse in some ways because it proved how unpredictable it all was. He could have been shot in the bank or the first one shot along the way. Somehow he had been the one to make it all the way here with only a few bruises and some blood and a handsome hero striding in to save him. So, why him? And why should he bother to question it? He had lived. He should be glad. He was glad it was just... hard to wrap his mind around. He probably should straighten up. He was a little awkward and dizzy feeling, sure, but he was okay. He wasn't hurt any worse than a tender nose and cheek. He could walk just fine. But Jack was strong. Jack was warm. Jack was solid. It felt nice to be resting against him and to have someone to lean on. David didn't have to worry about tripping or if he was going to have his legs buckles because he was being supported, he knew he was being held up and he wasn't going to be dropped. And it was nice to feel the muscles of the other man's arm, the warmth of him, and to imagine for just a minute or two that he liked it as much as David did. He winced a little as Jack went on to say that they should be thankful for small favors. "Yeah, I guess," he said. Other people weren't as lucky. There were bodies to testify to that and it was unsettling to even think about it for too long. He blinked a little as Jack seemed to consider his question then went on to say that he hadn't really known the guys, just knew more of them. "I'd never heard of them. But I... maybe I just missed it, too." David didn't cover the hard hitting stories and he didn't read the newspaper all that much. Honestly, some days he couldn't bring himself too because the state of everything was just depressing and he didn't need help with feeling anxious. But then, if this man didn't know them and only knew of them what was he doing out here? Had he been trying to save someone else and only David had made it? "So why did you... come out here then?" he asked, feeling as if he shouldn't be asking but just as before it was sometimes hard to stop his mouth from running even when he should just keep it quiet. Was it wrong of him to not want to go to the police? A part of him thought that he should. He was, after all, an upstanding citizen. He had no parking tickets, speeding tickets, no citations for anything. He had always been a good kid who never got into any trouble. In fact, the most that he could be said to be doing that was wrong was lying about what he and Katherine were to one another and that really didn't have the potential to hurt anyone at all. Despite the fact that he seemed squeaky clean, though, David knew things. He knew the way that police officers would shake someone down or try and find someone to blame when they couldn't find the real culprit. He knew the way they might badger him. He also knew it wasn't going to solve anything. Those people were dead, David was alive. The culprits were alive, but hurt. A tip off and the police would rescue them and it would all be wrapped up neatly. He didn't need to sit and be interrogated about any of this and he didn't want to be or to relive it. It was bad enough as it was. "If there had been more... more survivors or perhaps they had gotten away I would argue that I should go and at least report what I know, but..." But there weren't and if the police moved quickly they could apprehend them based on a tip off. David didn't need to sit and be interrogated for hours. David felt a curious mix of emotions that he could only boil down to the shock of it all - bone deep exhaustion, depression, panic, elation, hysteria - and he didn't know what to focus on. He supposed he should be thanking Jack or talking more but at least Jack didn't seem to expect it from him. He was mostly quiet as he drove at a breakneck speed, just looking over at David once in awhile in a considering sort of way. "It's just..." David trailed off for a moment because Jack was right. It was important to the people that were interested in it. But, at the same time, it felt stupid. It felt juvenile. He could have been reporting on anything going on in the city that was more important but here he was describing things like this. Granted, he supposed it was worse for Katherine who had some decent stories but always ended up being shunted to some lady's garden show or some kind of advice column at some point no matter how hard she pushed to keep getting the few good stories they let her have. He sighed after a moment. "I feel like there's more important things to be writing about." Like the state of the depression. Like criminals like the two that had kidnapped him today. Like the politics of the city and the country and the world. He blinked a little as Jack asked his next question. "Every reporter is excited for when they can move up." Mostly anyways. He was sure some of them were quite happy writing gossip columns or advice columns or things like reviewing a play or a book. David wanted to do more than that, though. At his breathed out words, Jack actually laughed at him and said he wasn't a bootlegger at all. "The only people I've heard describe their job like that are bootleggers. So if not a bootlegger, than what do you do?" Maybe he shouldn't be asking. Maybe he should just let it sit - ignorance was bliss, right? But David was interested in Jack and his answer and felt as if he had to know. |
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| Jack Kelly | Nov 14 2017, 12:05 AM Post #9 |
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He settled back after a moment on his heels, looking at the man's face. Idly he found himself thinking it was a pretty cute face, even when he told himself to avoid thinking that. This guy had just been through who knew what with the Delancy brothers, now wasn't a time to be thinking about how handsome he was right? At the same time, what was the harm in looking a little? He pushed the thought away, bringing himself back to the here and now. "<b>Well, it ain't broken,</b>" he declared with all the confidence of someone who may not have been a doctor, but he had seen some broken bones in his time. "<b>You's gonna have a pretty brilliant bruise, though.</b>" That was still better than a broken anything. Bruises healed a lot faster than broken bones, he knew that much, and there was nothing worse than a broken nose. He knew that one pretty well too. Broken noses were easy to forget they were broken right up until the moment that you did something stupid. And it usually was something you would never have done before in your life, like walking into a wall or tapping your nose to indicate you got something. Everyone did stupid stuff when they got broken bones no matter how smart they were. He gave a slight grin as the man went on to say that he hadn't planned on it. "<b>A wiseguy is what they call that, I think.</b>" And boy, was this one lucky he hadn't gotten worse than a punch to the face. Jack was no stranger to the sort of person this guy was. He had met his fair share in his day. Though he and Spot were loved by plenty of people, there were plenty more who hated them. He could understand it, he didn't like it, but he could understand. After all, Spot and Jack were stealing things, no matter how much the public loved them. Some guys got it in their heads to mouth off because they didn't like what Jack and Spot did. He'd be lying if it hadn't felt good to pop some of the smart mouths right in the jaw. Sure they tried to avoid hurting any hostages, but they weren't saints by any means. The guy was just lucky he hadn't gotten worse, honestly. The Delancys had a shorter fuse than he and Spot did. <p> Jack finally decided that he would support Davey until the other man decided to straighten up, that was the plan. No one could blame Jack for that, right? Sure some guys probably would. They'd say that was taking advantage of someone and that was <i>bad</i> and Jack was <i>bad</i> because he was doing it while knowing it was bad. The thought didn't make him shove Davey away any faster, honestly. It wasn't like Jack was holding him against his side against his will or anything. He wasn't keeping his arm locked around Davey. At any time Davey could pull away and Jack would let him. That was reasonable right? It didn't matter if he was enjoying it, he told himself, because he wasn't pushing it. He squeezed Davey's shoulder as the other man said he guessed. It wasn't exactly a rousing response, he felt, but at the same time, after what the guy had gone through, Jack couldn't exactly blame him. Maybe <i>he</i> wouldn't have been like that, he wouldn't have been so hazy or not quite grudging of the words spoken to him, but Davey was obviously different. Davey was someone who struck Jack as the type that hadn't really been touched by violence and death, maybe even poverty. That last one was a real strong 'if' considering how everyone had been effected by that sort of thing. Lots of people knew what it was like to be poverty stricken right now. "<b>Yeah, they's kinda easily missed,</b>" he couldn't help the smug tone. He and Spot had run ins with the Delancys before; they had butted heads with them countless times and if the papers thought Jack and Spot were arrogant and self centered, then they had nothing on the Delancys. In Jack's humble opinion, it was like having a couple of wild dogs taken into a dog show or something – they placed and got awards but it was because they had scared the competition away. They were too dumb to realize that they got where they had through fear, or maybe they knew and they didn't care, and they walked around all smug as if it meant something. No one wanted to talk about them because they were nothing more than thugs. Jack and spot on the other hand..."<b>'Cause I'm smart enough to follow clues, unlike the cops.</b>" <p> All Jack could do right in those moments was focus on the road. It was easier then trying to focus on Davey. The fact of the matter was he didn't know how to take care of Davey. Davey seemed...soft and a little delicate and definitely needing a different set of care. Davey didn't strike him as the type that would take a hair ruffle and an 'ah, you's fine' like some of the other boys in Jack's life. "<b>Useless paper work if you's ask me,</b>" he declared. Even if there had been survivors there would have been too much paperwork. People rarely believed it, but sometimes Jack had been on the other side of things. People looked at Jack and they saw a man who would always been in chains, who would be handcuffed and grilled repeatedly and maybe even roughed up a bit. But Jack hadn't been that every time. Sometimes Jack had seen things – just because he robbed banks didn't mean he was a criminal that always looked the other way, after all. There wasn't some "criminal's code", like people seemed to think their was. People thought that two criminals would look out for each other, but that was only true so far as the idea that if you ratted someone out, they could do the same for you. It was a careful game, but jack had played it a couple of times. And he had had the cops looming over him as if he had been the criminal he had been reporting about, even when the cops had no clue who he was. If Jack hadn't been born with nerves of steel and forged in the fire of a hard life, he would have caved. He would have crumbled under those looks and those words and probably incriminated himself to something he hadn't ever done. He couldn't imagine what a guy like Davey would have done under the right circumstances. <p> Davey seemed to have a restless little bit of energy flowing in him, Jack felt. It wasn't quite like someone who had made their first kill and had a taste for it, but a person who had their first brush with danger and they were both so shocked they couldn't move but also feeling like they <i>had</i> to. Jack had seen it in a couple of the boys when they first started. The best thing Jack had found with them was to just keep talking. Don't make a big deal of it, just like if someone was shot. Sure it hurt like hell but the moment you started to panic, your patient started panicking too because they needed you to know they were going to be all right. "<b>You just...?</b>" he pushed the question a little, trying to lead him on if there was more to it than that. He gave a small shake of his head when Davey continued on after a moment."<b>Well, maybe there is,</b>" he conceded a little, "<b>but then you don't think that kind of stuff is important? What about all them people that is down on their luck, huh? All the people that lost their jobs and ain't got money to their name no more. You thinks they wanna hear about more depressin' stuff? About...corruption in our officials, the cops gettin' more than their fair share? Nah, they's gonna wanna hear about them flower shows and those county fairs 'cause it makes them feel maybe life ain't so bad. Ain't that kinda important?</b>" Jack remembered what it was like to be poorer, to not have the money for anything when things had seemed pretty bleak. All the newspapers had reported the same thing over and over again. It had always been stupid, but he had then seen little articles about smaller things. Stories that made him smile, that reminded him of how things use to be. It made him have hope, it made the dark days not so dreary. Anyone could report about the bad news that was happening, didn't mean it was that great to read. "<b>Suppose so, ain't never been a reporter, so what do I know?</b>" Then again, Jack would have chafed where Davey was at. It wouldn't hold his interest for very long, it wouldn't keep his attention because it was boring. He needed excitement, he needed thrills, he needed <i>danger</i>. Davey continued on, rambling just the tiniest bit about how things were suppose to be. "<b>You really wanna know?</b>" he gave a slight grin. He shouldn't say, he should make up some line or something that would soothe Davey. Even when he told himself that, he could distantly hear himself going, "<b>I'm a bank robber.</b>" |
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| David Jacobs | Nov 14 2017, 12:06 AM Post #10 |
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David liked the gaze resting on him, even when he told himself to stop it. He didn't know anything about him. Right now, his list of facts that he knew about this man were that he had a very strong jawline, he had a face that seemed contradictory in that it seemed suited for scowling but he had seen him smile and knew it suited his face even more, he had somewhat greenish eyes - gorgeous eyes that kept boring into him - and that he had beat the hell out of the two thugs that had kidnapped him. That ended the amount of information that he knew and most of those he had figured out just by looking at him. He shouldn't like a complete stranger, an unknown quantity, staring at him like that. "I could have guessed that from the way it felt. I don't imagine I'm going to want to look at a mirror anytime soon." He hadn't known for sure if it was broken or not, but he had certainly known it was going to be devastatingly hideous. He could already imagine the amount of colors that were going to blossom over his nose and his cheek where he had been struck. Maybe he should be taking some time off from work so that no one would have to see it and comment on it. He could do that, right? He'd been through an ordeal. They should give him a few days to rest. "It's a defense mechanism," he stated as the other guy grinned at him and told him that they called that a wiseguy. Not a very good defense mechanism, considering it had gotten his face damaged and could have ended in worse. David knew all of that, though. His brain just started to panic and took away the filter that normally existed there was all. He knew it really wasn't the best way to handle things or to react but sometimes there was nothing that he could do about it. His brain would just act before he got the chance to wonder if it was a good idea and then the words had come out. At least this guy seemed amused more than anything. He should stop leaning so much on the other man. He knew he should. He didn't need the support - though a part of him protested that he very much did need it - and he should be independent. The other part of him didn't care, even when he knew it was inappropriate, because Jack was warm. He was strong. David could feel his muscles through the clothing and he could smell whatever aftershave he used, along with the general scent of the man and it was... well, it was nice. At his response, Jack's arm that was around his shoulder squeezed just a little. Not enough to be a full blown hug, not enough to pull him against Jack's side, but enough to make David's heart race a tiny bit and for him to wish that he had. Did that make him terrible? People had died. People had lost money. Bad things had happened and here was David Jacobs, wishing that another man would just pull him against his side like he was desperate (which he was). There had to be some kind of etiquette rule he was breaking with those thoughts. "I would think I would have heard something about them with the way they handled things." But, then again, maybe he had and had forgotten... and David kept on top of things in the world but after awhile it became almost tedious to open up a newspaper and read about more problems, about lack of money, about another pair of bank robbers or gangsters in the limelight. It made it seem very much like the world was stuck in a limbo when the same things kept being reported over and over again. "You're certainly smug enough to beat out most of the cops," he said with a snort that made him wince. There was his smart mouth again. He was just lucky that Jack didn't seem to mind it and seemed more amused by it than annoyed. The both of them were quiet for the moment, Jack driving and focusing on the road and David trying to focus on what was ahead of him and not what was behind him. It was easier said than done, really. Because it was very easy to conjure up images of what had happened, what had gone on, what could have happened. His throbbing nose told him over and over again what had happened to him and that he had been lucky to receive just that. He gave a somewhat terse smile at Jack's words. "I don't know about useless, but I think they can handle it all without me." Because while David was an eyewitness, if they moved quick enough they would have the two perpetrators in their custody anyways. They wouldn't need anyone to give them a testimony because they had the culprits right there. It soothed his conscience somewhat to think that. Besides, he really wasn't feeling up to listening to police officers recount what had happened over and over, listening to them question him about what had happened, listening to them wonder if he had survived out of luck or if he were maybe in on it too. He just didn't have it in him today, honestly. Not after everything else that had happened to him. David shifted again in the seat, trying to still his mind and his body. He honestly wanted to just... run. Not from Jack, not at all, but just in general. He wanted to run and flee and get away from everything and yet that wasn't something that he could do because he couldn't get away from anything at all. His mind was still there, even if he ran. Those memories and images would be there even if he ran. Nothing was going to erase those anytime soon. He made a small noise as Jack asked 'you just' as he trailed off,a noise that indicated that he honestly didn't know what he wanted to say,what he meant. It was frustrating, sometimes, trying to find the words that he needed. He was quiet for a long few minutes as David listened to Jack's words. They made sense. Hadn't he grown tired of reading the same old terrible news? At the same time, though, it felt wrong. "I feel like I'm meant to report on bigger things. Things that are going to change the world. And maybe you're right and it is important to give people something else to read about, but it's not going to change the world." He gave a somewhat thin smile. "But every new reporter probably thinks that." He was sure plenty of the men who sat around playing cards after their articles were done had thought the same when they started. He knew Katherine felt the same way but maybe it was just youth and enthusiasm that would fade in time. He gave a small laugh at the words. "Everybody wants to move on to the bigger and better stories." Money and recognition were the main motivators there, of course - as in most things. He turned his gaze to the other man as he asked if David really wanted to know. He felt his eyes widen a little, because that sounded very dangerous and very alluring all at the same time. He felt his eyes go wider as Jack didn't even wait to hear his yes or his no and went on to say he was a bank robber. He felt himself draw in a sharp breath and a part of his brain said he knew it, David Jacobs couldn't just find a nice boy who had a good job to fall in love at first sight with, no. It had to be a criminal. He stared hard at the other man's face for a moment before his brain seemed to click over into working mode. "Oh my God, I've seen you in the papers. You're Jack Kelly." The name and face finally clicked together and David didn't know whether he should beg to not be killed for knowing this, if he should try and make a hasty exit from the car or, honestly, if he should just kiss the man. Finally, he just cast another glance at Jack. "I've never met anyone famous before." |
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| Jack Kelly | Jan 12 2018, 01:16 AM Post #11 |
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He hadn't expected the person they had taken to be attractive – honestly, he hadn't thought much about anything about what people might have looked like. He had been strictly thinking about the fact that, when the first body showed up, the Delancys were putting out a bad name for guys like Jack and Spot. They were tarnishing the names of bank robbers, which he was sure the cops would have a field day with, but it was true. Guys like Jack and Spot? They were getting by because they didn't hurt anyone; the cops may have hated him, the government may have hated them, but the people didn't because they didn't hurt them, they didn't steal specifically from them. If bodies started turning up, they'd be a lot more afraid in the future. Would that bank robber pop someone because they looked at them funny? Would they ever see their family again if they were hostages? The more people began to doubt, the more willing they would be to work with the police, to tell them where they had gone, what had happened, what they had seen. All that seemed more of a side venture when he was staring at the fact that would have looked damn fine without the bruising. "Yeah," he found himself saying, "You's might wanna for a couple'a days...a week, possibly." A week would take care of most of the damage – the swelling would be down by then and most bruising would have gone to the green-ish yellow color before it faded entirely. "Hate to tell ya it's gonna get worse 'fore it gets better." Jack never understood that, personally. There had been fights he had had over the years – some of them even with Spot because they disagreed on something – and he had thought something looked okay, maybe a little tender but nothing too big. The very next day, his face had puffed up and he looked as black as a tire. How did that make sense? He raised an eyebrow as the other man spoke. "What a shitty defense mechanism," he found himself saying, "Ain't they's suppose to protect you?" That was what he thought, anyway. Defense mechanisms were like Jack's knee jerk reactions to anyone touching him without his knowing someone was there, right? Defense mechanisms were in place for protection. Who had one that made things worse? He didn't think anyone would blame him for enjoying the weight against him, that was what he told himself. He wasn't being...gross about it, he wasn't being rude or anything like that. He was sure most people would have scolded him anyway because he wasn't suppose to be taking advantage, but hell, he was all ready a bank robber. He had all ready stolen money and shot at cops, what was he getting worried over feeling the warmth of another handsome man? No one had to know what he was thinking; David didn't have to know what he was thinking. If no one knew, it wasn't a problem, right? Besides, David seemed to like the touch, leaning in in a way that said he was enjoying it...or maybe that he was too tired to keep himself up, but whatever. "That's 'cause they ain't got class and they ain't good at what they do." Which sounded weird to say because they had been brutally efficient...the problem was that they had now made it so the cops were going to expend even more effort to find them, more people were going to actually push to have them found. "'Sides, you don't hear 'bout 'em 'cause everyone forgets these sorts exist if they ain't constantly in the news." The same thing had happened with Spot and Jack. They were in the news, pictures every where....and then they decided to lay low, they decided they were going to keep quiet for a little while, and then suddenly it was like the world had forgotten all about them. It was like the world had assumed that because they were quiet, they were dead or something. They could roam around without issue. Then again, that might have been because they were decent folk to the people around them. Plenty of people might have recognized them and then let them pass because they knew that Jack had done right by them. Easier to let things go like that, he had found. Meanwhile people like the Delancys were hoped to be dead when they weren't in the papers for long. At least that was all what Jack assumed, what did he really know? He smirked a little as Davey spoke, as he snorted even when he imagined that was probably not the smartest move Davey could have made. "All part of my charm, doll," the pet name slipped from his mouth without meaning to and part of him thought he should scramble to take it back. He didn't. He comforted himself in thinking that it seemed pretty common for people to give other nicknames like that. Maybe not between two guys, but he could pretend right? It wasn't the weirdest thing in the world, right? He'd keep telling himself that, even as he looked out at the road and realized he liked how th name had settled in his mouth. He liked how it had felt to call David that. "Completely useless if they don't need you's there." Jack had gone to school for a little while, just long enough to grow up, and he remembered the work they had been give nad it had just been...why had he needed it, he wanted to demand. There had been no point, he told himself, because the fact of the matter was that they had learned everything in the class all ready. That was what it felt like they would do to David. They had all the evidence that the Delancys were there, that they had murdered people, and they'd still make David fill out forms. Jack wanted to do something for David, anything really. It was a weird sort of feeling to have. Jack had spent most of his life on hard streets with harder companions. Any one else, he would have told them to get over it. Just stop thinking about it and get over it because that was the way life was. He didn't, though. Partly because David seemed...not necessarily softer, but more so than Jack or Spot. He didn't deserve to be told to "man up" about something that upset him. When he told David he thought people needed the lighter stories, David countered that he was felt like he was meant to report bigger things. "So, you's gonna change the world?" the words could have been mocking, sneering, any number of things. If it had been anybody else, he probably would have made them that way. But this was for David and Jack got the feeling that he meant it, that David was going to change the world. It was sweet, he supposed, that he wanted to, that he hadn't gotten so jaded with everything that he just gave up. "Suppose the world needs people like you, huh? Everyone's actin' like this is just the way of it an' ain't no one tryin' to figure out what to do instead. Needs guys like you to start wantin' action." Not people like Jack, though, because Jack knew that robbing banks was a short term thing. Either at some point he'd have enough money to move far, far away or he'd be dead. "Well, you'll get there. You's gonna get a break out one soon, I bet." He almost, almost said that maybe he could have used this experience to get a step in the right direction – after all, plenty of people had heard interviews with people who had been hostages, but no one had been a hostage and written a piece. But then again, the chances of it being considered "too soon" for that. It was too soon for David to go thinking about what had happened because it was still back there, fresh in every sense of the word. Maybe in a couple of days, maybe after the police had come and done their part, maybe when the reports started getting written. Maybe then David could talk about it. David inhaled sharply, a noise that could have been good or bad – the kind of noise someone gave when they thought about jumping from a moving car or when they heard something that sounded mighty fine to them. When David said he saw him in papers, when he named him, Jack felt a grin spread over his face. "The one an' only," he said proudly, smug in every pore. He chuckled as David seemed to decide that he was more interested in staying right there with Jack rather than fleeing. "Well," he drew the word out, "I dunno 'bout famous, huh?" He was, he wanted to crow. He was famous and he had money and he wasn't like the other suckers that Davey had met no doubt. He glanced at David, raising an eyebrow. "Still glad you's didn't go to the cops?" Not that Jack would have let him figure out who he was there. Edited by Jack Kelly, Jan 13 2018, 11:15 AM.
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| David Jacobs | Feb 5 2018, 11:06 PM Post #12 |
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He knew he should be warier than he was. Maybe it was the shock or the exhaustion, or maybe it was him being a sucker for a handsome face, but he found it a lot harder to put up walls and wariness right now - especially when this man had just saved him. Sure, he had taken out two very violent criminals with what looked like ludicrous ease, but he had mostly admitted it was because he had gotten the drop on them. Still, that was the type of person that you should be aware of and careful of, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend only worked so long as your enemy was still around. Once the enemy was gone, did you remain friends or did that friend turn into an enemy? It was something that he had never had to think about until now. His savior could very easily turn into something else, if he wasn't careful. Gingerly, he brought his hand up to his face and touched his fingers against his cheek and his nose, wincing when he touched the latter. "You might be right," he stated after a moment. If it was this tender to the touch it was definitely going to leave a smattering of bruises. He didn't think it had broken but that didn't mean it wasn't going to look just about as bad as if it had. He blinked slightly as the other man spoke again, telling him that the pain and the appearance was going to get worse before it had gotten better. He bit back on the comment that he didn't need to be told that - he'd been hurt before. He was pretty sure every human alive had suffered some sort of bruise or broken bone or the like. His smart mouth had gotten him into this mess, though. He didn't need another bruise. "I know," he finally said, simply. Despite his earlier thoughts, he felt his walls go up somewhat at the rather brusque comment. Never mind that he knew it was true - nobody liked to hear something so rough about themselves like that. Especially not after all of... this. "Well, usually it keeps people from bothering me," he said, tone clipped just a little bit. He knew he shouldn't let it bother him especially since he didn't want this man to leave him alone. Not only was he attractive but... David was alone and, really, he was lost. He didn't want to be out here with his thoughts and knowledge of what had happened and knowing he had no idea which way home really was. He needed to knock it off for now. At least Jack was a solid presence beneath him. He wasn't pulling away, wasn't seeming to be offended by David's leaning or expecting him to hold himself up like some kind of "man's man". He'd had a tough time and a hard shock and Jack didn't seem to hold that against him. He almost seemed to be enjoying it, but maybe that was just David reading into it too much. It was easy to do with a warm, solidness underneath his weight, a strong arm settled around his waist and a swoop of dark brown hair and interesting green eyes to look at with every few glances. "Well, I'll certainly agree with you that they don't have any class." David wasn't so certain about the second part. They had robbed the bank and gotten out here and there were certainly no police on their tail, was there? That seemed like being relatively good at your job... then again, what did he know? He was certainly no underworld figure, no police officer, no bank robber. His world was writing about fairs and talent shows and mundane things of life that had nothing to do with criminal activities. "I guess that makes sense." After all, 'out of sight, out of mind' was a common enough phrase for a reason. The less you saw something, the less you remembered anything about it. Maybe he had seen a news article about these two once or twice, but it certainly hadn't left much of an impression on him. If they only sporadically hit things and took long stretches of time between those hits - and if they weren't accurately identified some of the time - then it would be pretty easy to forget them, all things considered. There hadn't been anything that stood out much about them either, which made it even harder to remember them. Whatever trouble his brain seemed to want to get him into, Jack seemed to ignore. Thankfully. David was already sore and tired and he didn't really want to be beat on again. Instead, Jack just seemed amused and said it was all part of his charm. "Is that what we're calling it?" he countered, but the words felt twisted and hard to get out because that nickname that the other man had slid in was banging around in his head so hard it was amazing it wasn't giving him a headache. He'd never had another man call him that. Was it too much to assume, to hope, that it meant more than just a simple nickname? Was it monumentally stupid to hope that? He liked it, he wanted to hear it more, and maybe it was stupid to want that. At least Jack was agreeing with him, distracting him from those other thoughts. "That's what I felt," he said, simply. There was no need to worry about that anymore, thank goodness. The cops were out of the equation for now. Davey tiredly wanted to just lean his head against the window, but he couldn't do that. The road was too bumpy. It would just jostle and jar him even more than he wanted to deal with right now and he didn't want to fall asleep either. He felt he might have something of a limited time with Jack, for whatever reason, and he didn't want to miss out on that just yet. The words prickled at him because he had heard them before. Everyone always said it was a sneer, with mockery. "I'd like to, yes," he countered briskly. Not quite clipped and harsh, not like he could get, but definitely heading in that direction. Everyone always laughed but he never understood why. That was how the world changed. People wanted it to change and so they dove in and did the necessary efforts to start the ball rolling. Why was it so bad or humorous when someone said they wanted to change things? "That's my point. Nothing changes if no one wants to try. It's the people who stand up and say they want to see change that starts the change. It's the people who do it. I don't want this to be the rest of my life. Who wants to think about crops failing and people living in homes full of dust and not being able to rub two dimes together for the rest of their lives? Things have to change and people have to be willing to do it." It was passionate and it was what he believed - and it was also enough to get his blood up and send his nose and his head throbbing somewhat. Passion and anger were things that had to wait for a day where he hadn't been kidnapped and used as a punching bag. "Ah, maybe one day," he said with a sigh. Maybe one day when someone retired and he could slide into the role but not now. Not for awhile yet. All of that took a back seat though to this sudden revelation. Jack, it seemed, had no shame because he was sitting smug and proud, grinning at him. "Would you prefer infamous rather than famous?" he shot back, because that was just David's default defense it seemed. Get sarcastic because he wasn't the strongest person around unless it came to book smarts and sarcasm. Jack seemed to appreciate that, though, honestly. He seemed amused by it and he just kept chuckling and giving David little looks that made him shiver. "Yes," he said, honestly, surprising himself. "I am." A part of him thought this was it - he could get an exclusive interview, tell a story no one else could tell and make his way up... but mostly he was glad for another reason. He was alone with Jack Kelly, infamous bank robber and man who had saved his life and it was thrilling and enticing and made his stomach churn in a pleasant way. Edited by David Jacobs, Feb 6 2018, 12:35 AM.
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1:04 PM Jul 11