isaac whitmore/daniel cross. (winterblood) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-09-24 19:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | daniel cross |
Who: Kellan
What: Outtro; leaving Vegas
Where: City limits and then out.
When: Soon as the storm ends
Warnings/Rating: None really.
The storm had kept him locked inside, and unable to so much as consider trying to work, Kellan settled in for the duration. He considered new plans of action, new places to try and destroy. Old contacts to pick back up on. New shit to mess with on the other side of the door, old habits to try and break. He did a lot of thinking, and tried to stop himself from doing so after a point.
It didn't work.
Lucien was dead. Really dead this time. The photos had been the unarguable type. For a second time he hadn't had a hand in it, but ... it wasn't really his due to kill the bastard. Let those with fresh grievances take their revenge; he was old and his bitterness was partly his own fault, his own inability to let things go. Well, now there wasn't a point in holding on any more. Seattle had been bad in its way but Vegas had taught him new things that he wasn't happy living with.
The sand outside barred his way out, but he knew as soon as it settled he was leaving. Back to the east coast, to somewhere there he hadn't been before. Somewhere his face wasn't in local police databases. Maybe stick with this name, or go back to an old one. One of them still had good ties. Work came more easily when your reputation lingered in specific circles.
So what happens to me? was the question echoing in the back of his skull as he packed up all his stuff (ten minutes' work), and his answer was: I don't know and I don't care, maybe you'll get luckier next time and wind up cohabiting with a woman, might be fun for you, eh? And after that he didn't hear anything else. He chucked the phone and the key in his bag and never noticed when he didn't find them again some time later.
When the storm died down, the city went back to normal. It recovered almost immediately. Kellan waited a few hours for the transportation to get back up and running and headed to a bus station for passage out of town. He didn't fly, and cabs could only get so far, and he figured he was too old to hitchhike, and these people took cash without question. Stealing a car was too noticeable, too. He'd just fade out like he always did.
Kellan was outside Vegas in two hours, heading east, almost dozing in the back of the bus and trying, not for the last time, not to think.