For those wondering, this isn't the full fic. I know, I am sorry, ha ha.
So I did a lot of thinking before posting this. I am currently writing this sucker and originally intended it to be one chapter, but as I'm writing it, the word count is already insane and I haven't even gotten three scenes completed. I have fourteen planned. Length and word count is always fine and dandy, but I don't feel like saddling you all with a super long fic that's meant to be read in one go.
So I am splitting it up, also because I am interested in the response for this one...and we've had no updates as of late, so here's a little something fun. There probably won't be more than four chapters, but I feel I can pace myself better by splitting it all up. :)
Thanks for the support to those who've read sneak peeks! Next update soon!
As usual, for fun there is an accompanying soundtrack, this one fully uploaded with thirteen tracks. Lyrically, while they are relatable, this time around it's more about the overall sound and how they fit the mood of the story. So check out my LJ for that!
"Oh, we're not going to kill anyone! We're not going to take anyone's life! That's way too risky! No matter what the reason, if a person kills someone, that someone takes on the weight of the murder."
"Yes. And it's heavy! A near crushing weight."
"Quite a variety of things. And those who know them would never take a life. Nothing makes up for it."
- XXXHOLiC by CLAMP, Chapter One
"Lookie here, brother of mine," a feminine voice rang through the empty apartment. "Take a look at what I scored in the missus' jewelry box."
The blonde man turned around slowly and looked at his twin sister. Rolling his eyes, he glanced at her wrist, a dainty strand of pearls hanging on it. "Why do you insist on stealing from people, Shar?" he asked, annoyed, as he placed the carton of milk back into the refrigerator.
Raising a light eyebrow, Sharpay Evans scoffed at her brother before leaning against the counter. "I do not insist upon anything, Ryan," she snapped, "I am simply taking my compensation."
Ryan Evans lifted the bowl of cereal he had prepared and brought a spoon to his mouth, taking a large bite. "I'm sorry, compensation? For what?"
"For doing this dirty deed, Ryan," she explained, examining her nails. "It's not like we get paid to do this bullshit, to take the time out of our days to make house-calls. To fuckers like these who don't pay up. When we finally set them straight, although we all get a fair cut of what the bastards owe us, I feel I deserve a little something extra given the circumstances and the fact that I am the one risking my life."
"You always offer to do these things, Shar," Ryan reminded her. "Besides, we're third in command, it's expected."
"The rest of the city certainly doesn't think that, though," Sharpay reminded him. "You know what they say, right?" She scrunched her nose, as if just realizing he was eating. "How can you eat at a time like this anyways?"
"Shar, this should be an easy raid, they have food and I'm hungry," Ryan said, chomping on his cereal. "There's little chance this guy will be armed and on the off chance that he is, you know how easily you and I can take him out. But yes, I know what people think."
Sharpay twirled her new bracelet around her wrist several times, thinking as Ryan ate quietly. "Does it ever bother you?" she asked diplomatically.
"Does what ever bother me?"
"The fact that the entire city knows we're criminals."
Ryan rolled his eyes and set down his bowl. "Sharpay, the entire city does not know we're criminals. In fact, technically speaking, out of the entire population, only a handful know."
"But you know the gossip, Ryan," Sharpay spit. "You know everyone thinks we're the ones behind it all. Because of daddy."
"Sharpay, I know that very well," he said simply, reaching down to his ankle and pulling up his pant-leg. He revealed his hostler and unbuckled his gun quickly, counting the number of bullets in his magazine. Six. Was that really a reasonable amount. "But to answer your question, no it doesn't bother me. Does it bother you?"
"Hmm," Sharpay said, sliding her hand inside her handbag that rested on the countertop. "Not at all." Pulling out the shiny silver pistol, she smiled wickedly. "In fact, I love it."
"You love it?" Ryan said, feeling that he should be surprised. But he wasn't. He had to admit, it was fun, being considered to hold all the power, have all the glory, but shoulder none of the responsibility. It was part of the tradition, had been so for years. They were the decoy, the distraction, and they wore their label proudly.
"Of course!" Sharpay said almost excitedly. "Everyone in this town things we have it wired! That we're the ones that decide whether a business succeeds or fails. That thinks we're the ones who dictate who stuffs it and who doesn't."
"But we don't, Shar," Ryan said with a sly smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We've got it easy."
Sharpay sighed, glancing at the clock on the kitchen stove. "Yeah, except it has it's downfalls."
"Like these stupid missions!" she hissed. "Where the fuck are is this guy, Troy said he was due back around ten. That was an hour ago!"
"Calm down," Ryan said, though he was growing impatient as well. This was the downside of being third in command, especially when you shared the title with someone else. You didn't call the shots, and you were expected to make all the visits, do all of the housekeeping. It was a thankless job, but Ryan and Sharpay didn't mind. They enjoyed a little bit of action, a little bit of blood. They were former theatre students and any opportunity they got to be a little dramatic, they would take.
"All I'm saying is he had better show up soon," Sharpay said, tapping her foot, "or else I am using one of those pretty paintings he's got up there for target practice."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "And run out of bullets?"
Sharpay shook her purse and Ryan heard the clink of metal in the bottom. "I always have extra ammunition, stupid."
"Like you're going to have time to load your gun," Ryan said logically. "Oh, I'm sorry, just one sec while I fill up my magazine. Smart."
Throwing her head back, the blonde laughed. "Oh, please, Ryan, we both know I'm a perfect shot." She curled her hand so it resembled a gun and cocked it at him. "One shot and I'll nail them through the heart if they try any funny business."
Ryan grinned at his sister. "Statements like that remind me that we're related."
"No kidding," she said, coming to stand beside him. "So what's the bio on this guy anyways?"
"Name's Richard Grayson," Ryan said, rifling through the data in his head. "Head of a small, but successful, publishing company. Contacted the Boltons about six months ago in hopes of giving his business a little bit of a one up. They agreed."
Sharpay furrowed her eyebrows. "So what's the problem?"
"The problem," Ryan began, placing his bowl in the sink, "is that Richard hasn't paid up yet. Hasn't given the Boltons their share of the money."
"Oh shit," Sharpay said with a laugh. "Smart man."
"I know," Ryan said, grinning. "Thought he could pull a fast one on us."
Sharpay shook her head, folding her arms. "He should know better than to try that with Troy and Gabriella Bolton," she giggled. "What an idiot."
Suddenly, the both tensed, the turning of a key in the lock silencing them. They exchanged a glance and both reached for their guns, stepping out of the kitchen and entering the dimly lit living room.
Richard Grayson had arrived.
He was a short, plump man dressed in a brown suit with a burgundy tie. He was completely bald and seemed to be exhausted. Running a hand over his scalp, he flicked on the lights and jumped when he realized he was not alone.
"W-who are you?" he said quickly, pressing himself against the door. "What are you doing here?"
Sharpay smirked, pursing her lips. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson," she said, standing up off the couch and making her way over to him. The light caught the glint of her gun and Richard immediately stiffened. "We're your company for the evening."
"Who are you?" he hissed, panicked, "How did you get in here?"
Ryan smiled sweetly. "Why, Mr. Grayson, through the door of course!" Stepping forward also, he ran a hand through his hair nonchalantly. "Surely you must have more faith in us. We make sure to copy the keys of our, clients, so to speak, should the occasion ever arise that we should pay them a visit."
"And pay you a visit is what we're indeed doing," Sharpay cut in, walking across the living room and resting her palm on the shiny baby grand piano in the corner. The room was large, with marble floors that caused her heels to click louder than she would have liked, gorgeous paintings adoring the wine colour walls. Leaning against the piano she smiled.
"W-who are you?" Richard said, his voice shaking, "I'll call the police!"
Sharpay and Ryan exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Mr. Grayson!" Ryan said, chuckling, "what a stupid thing to say."
Covering her mouth as she giggled, Sharpay tapped the lid of the piano with the butt of her gun. "The police can't help you!" she said, grinning. "Do you not know who we are? Does our hair not give us away?"
Richard blanched, trying to put the pieces together. Two blonde persons standing in his living room, armed and apparently willing to hurt him. What could that possibly mean?
Sharpay glanced at Ryan and batted her eyelashes, making a tusking sound with her tongue. "Seems he doesn't recognize us. Maybe we should give him a name?"
"Hmm, seems like a wise choice, sis," Ryan said, smirking. "Evans."
Richard raised his hands, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together. "No, I'm sorry, I don't...you can't do anything!"
"Oh, but we can, Mr. Grayson," Sharpay said lowly, "this is a house-call. We're here on behalf of higher orders."
"No..." Richard murmured, a bead of sweat running down his cheek. "No."
BANG! A loud shot rang through the room as Sharpay shot a hole into the wall. "Oh yes, Mr. Grayson," she glared, blowing smoke of her gun and stepping closer to him. "Oh, yes." Looking at Ryan, she placed her finger over the trigger and pointed it toward Richard.
"Now, what did you say this man did again, brother?" she asked slowly, "something about not paying up? Not giving what is due to those who helped him?"
"Precisely, sister dearest," Ryan said, circling the trembling man like hawk. He pressed his gun into the man's temple. "I do believe that our dear friends helped him shape his little publishing company here and he has decided that, oh, wouldn't it be fun to try and hide a rather large sum of their earnings from him!"
Laughing uproariously, Sharpay fired another warning shot, this time into the leg of the piano, causing the beautiful instrument to collapse with a loud clang. "Oops. That shot will definitely have the cops here within six minutes."
"Did you hear that?" Ryan hissed, pressing the gun harder against Richard's flesh. "Six minutes till the cops come. Do you know what that means, Grayson?" The man shook his head and Ryan continued. "It's simple really. Shar and I have no problem with the cops, but they'll have a problem with us and considering we kind of like not being thrown in jail, we're just going to have to kill all of you so that there's no witnesses."
Richard swallowed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as the cool metal pressed into the throb of his vein. "Do you really want to die, Grayson?" Ryan whispered as Richard shook his head. Ryan snickered. "Didn't think so. But unless you tell us where we can find the money in oh, two minutes, you will. Sharpay over here," he gestured towards his sister, "she's a perfect shot."
To demonstrate his point, Sharpay put both hands on the trigger an pointed to a clock on the other side of the room. "See the longer hand?" she asked, fingers poised on the trigger. "I'll shoot a hole right through it." Another loud pop bounced off the walls as she shot her gun, cracking the clock and shattering it's glass as the minute hand bounced off. She wasn't joking.
"We mean business, Grayson!" she suddenly barked. "Now where the fuck is the money and make it snappy!"
"I don't know where it is!" Richard yelped as he felt the gun dig into his head as Ryan tightened his hold on his shoulders.
"Bullshit!" Sharpay screamed, extending her foot and shoving over the glass coffee table, an ear splitting crash hitting his ears as the glass smashed on the marble floor. "Fucking tell us where it is and now before we shoot you dead! We're not joking, Grayson!"
"I don't know what you mean!" he protested, feeling weak and the woman across from him laughed bitterly.
"What bullshit!" she snapped. "Were we not good to you? Did you not come to us, to them, and ask for help? Ask to get your poor little itty bitty publishing company off the ground?"
"Mother fucker, yes you did!" Sharpay screeched, pointing her gun at him. "How dare you even try to rock the boat! What the fuck were you thinking, you idiot? You knew this was going to happen so stop fucking around and give us what we asked for!"
"I don't have it," Richard said, tears pooling in his eyes as he shook. "Please, take anything you want, I don't care."
"Stop fucking lying, Grayson," Ryan hissed next to his ear. "Just give us the money and this will be all over."
Maybe it was the calmer tone of Ryan's voice compared to the shrill shrieking of Sharpay's, but slowly, Richard raised his arms and from the pocket of his blazer, withdrew a thick envelope. Snatching out of his grasp, Ryan threw it to Sharpay and grinned.
"Looks like he had it on his person at all times," Ryan said, still holding onto him. "Maybe you're smarter than we gave you credit for," he continued with a smirk. "You knew that if you left the money here, we'd simply take it. But of course, you were stupid enough to try and pull a fast one on us in the first place, so I'll have to give your IQ a pretty low score for that one."
With that, he released him and yanked open the door, dashing into the hallway. Richard felt his head connect with the ground, a resounding crack echoing off the walls. He groaned and tried to sit up, only to have see a pink high heeled foot press down firmly on his chest. Her stiletto was positioned right over his ribs—one sudden movement and she could snap them like twigs.
"Maybe you've learned your lesson this time, Mr. Grayson," Sharpay spit viciously, opening her handbag and shoving the envelope of money inside. "You don't try to fuck with people like us." She flicked open her gun and counted the bullets in her magazine quickly. Richard swallowed thickly, his head dizzy and his vision blurry, but his heart pounding in anticipation for what was to come.
Suddenly, Sharpay lifted her foot and smashed it into his nose. He coughed violently as he felt the thin bones shatter and blood spurt down his face, the coppery smell making him sick. Holding his face in pain, he felt his eyes roll to the back of his head as everything started to go back.
Bending down, Sharpay smirked as she hovered above him, waggling her fingers before whispering, "The Boltons send their love."
And with that, he passed out.
Everything will make more sense as time goes on. :) Thanks for reading!