Will Stutely (sly_stutely) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2020-06-11 15:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | guy of gisborne, will stutely |
WHO Will Stutely and Guy of Gisborne
WHEN Thursday, around 2am
WHERE A New York alley
WHAT Bill Stewart hits rock bottom
WARNINGS Mild violence
Bill Stewart was neck-deep in a pit of his own making. The night had gotten off to a bad start when Hickman had missed the meet. That had set all of them on edge. Hickman was the new guy on the crew, still something of an unknown quantity, and this job hung on his ability to neutralise the alarm system. As the minutes stretched out with a treacly slowness, Bill wrestled with the uncharacteristic urge to pace. Waiting usually came easy to him; he was patient, prepared to let things unfold and to choose his moment. He’d built his reputation on his caution and precision, never tolerated cowboy antics. But lately, he was having a hard time sitting still. A sick, jittery sensation had taken up residence in his skull. It had been dogging him for weeks now, vibrating behind his eyes with the rhythm of an alarm just outside his range of hearing, and he wasn’t sure if the couple of drinks he’d had before coming out here tonight had succeeded in dulling it or whether they’d made matters worse. Didn’t matter. He was restless, that was all. Last couple of jobs had been a bust and he wasn’t the only one here who had to make rent. Once they’d all gotten paid, he’d be able to relax some. Hickman had arrived, pale and apologetic, but insisting he was still good to go, and Bruno and Eddie had exchanged skeptical glances before looking to Bill. And maybe, maybe if he’d been sober, he would have read the signs in the sweat that beaded Hickman’s brow. Maybe if he hadn’t been so ready to climb out of his own skin, the caution that had kept him out of the pot all these years would have asserted itself. Maybe if he hadn’t been so fixated on ignoring that silent alarm in his skill, he would have recognised the other alarm bells for what they were. Instead, he’d nodded. And because he was the cautious one, the one who never took foolhardy risks, Ed and Bruno and followed his lead, right into the jewellery store, and right into an ambush. They’d legged it, the three of them scattering to the sound of officers’ shouts and heavy pursuing footfalls. Bill made it through the back door, barrelled past a uniform and swerved wildly into an alley. There was a guy on his tail, fast and gaining ground. He needed an exit, but the carefully memorised escape routes had slipped beyond his grasp, all sense of direction leaving him. The silent alarm had risen to a wail that rattled his bones. He rounded the first corner he found, made it a few more strides before near-colliding with a row of dumpsters. Dead end. The cop’s footfalls approached, closing off his one escape. Stupid, he thought, and the word became a chorus in time with the throbbing in his brain. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. His knees hit the ground, his hands went slowly above his head, and he waited for the inevitable. Stupid. |