Peter Vincent thinks people see what they want to (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} smokingmagician) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} wariscoming,@ 2012-06-01 00:52:00 |
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What: Peter steps out to buy cigarettes and runs into trouble
Where: A block away from the apartment complex
When: Friday morning, June 1st, around 10 AM
Warnings: strong language, violence,
Status: Incomplete/Ongoing
Peter knew it was a bad idea to go out on his own, but he was out of cigarettes. He’d tried drinking more, but it wasn’t what he really wanted. He wanted a smoke. He wanted the taste of the clove-smoke on his tongue, the gentle burning in his windpipe, the rush of the nicotine, and Midori just wasn’t cutting it tonight. Grumpy from the withdrawal and more than a little drunk, he figured he would be alright if he just popped out to the store on the corner and back again. He was close enough that he could still see the complex from the convenience shop window; he’d be fine.
He probably should have asked someone to come with him, everyone kept saying not to go out alone. Walking, shooty department store dummies meant bad news, so he really should ask someone more able to protect themselves to fetch them, or at least ask Amy or someone to accompany him. But for some reason that kept making him think of Ginger, lying in the front room with her throat torn out, and the last thing he’d said to her was to go let the delivery guy in, you lazy cow. Which was pretty fucked up.
So he decided, in a fit of drunken self-assurance, he should just run out really quick and get the damn cigarettes himself. No mess, no fuss, no risk to anyone but his own sorry-ass, nicotine-deprived self. He told himself it was because Charley would murder him if he found out Peter had endangered Amy in any way, because Darcy was nowhere near the complex anyways, because Troy was probably busy, because he didn’t really know anyone else here, and it was just some damn cigs and not worth pulling people off patrol for.
Besides, it was all fine and he’d be fine, he could take care of himself. He was just getting his goddamn cigarettes. He didn’t need a fucking escort, even if there were fucking robots with guns walking around. So finally he just said fuck it, sent a quick text off to Amy and Darcy, because they would be pissed if he didn’t at least check in, and went on his own down to the shop on the corner.
The streets were nearly deserted. The few city-dwellers not too spooked to leave their homes drove by quickly and cautiously as they headed to work or the shops. Everyone was on edge, and it made Peter want to shake his head in amusement. One would think the inhabitants of Lawrence would be a bit more accustomed to strange and unusual happenings. After all, they were living in the epicenter of the apocalypse. Murderous shop mannequins should be old hat by now.
It was a quick trip out to the convenience store. The shopkeeper had been jumpy and watchful, and seemed happy to see Peter make his purchase quickly and leave. The streets were just as empty heading back to the apartment, so quiet Peter couldn’t help but grin. See, he was fine. Pop out, buy cigs, pop back in, no trouble at all.
He paused on the corner, tugging a smoke out of the packaging. It wasn’t a proper clove cigarette, but he was desperate enough to buy regular despite the foul taste. He lit up and took a long drag, holding it in before sighing out a stream of smoke.
The scrape of shoes against pavement made him swing around to scan the street behind him. A mannequin stood there, gun-hand flipped open and aimed directly at him. Peter swore vividly, losing his cigarette and scrambling backwards. He had no cover, no weapon. What the fuck made him think it was a good idea to head out here alone again?
The mannequin didn’t move, just seemed to stare eerily at him with its blank, plastic eyes. More shuffling down the street to his left caught his attention, and Peter turned to see three more approaching, hands outstretched. A peek over his shoulder revealed two more coming towards the corner, cutting off his escape route to the complex.
Peter’s shoulders dropped, and he let his head fall back with a vicious groan. “Oh, fuck me.”