Who We Were (Who We Have Become)

Shit-Hole Florida

It wasn't a particularly pleasant day to get their hands dirty, but dark days like these came with the job. Hell, a little rain wasn't all bad; set the mood, even. Weather was all the context a guy could ask for in this line of work. Consider someone found themselves on an evening jog- one of those misty, dew-dropped trails, weaving autumn sun between the tree lines onto a particular spot, in a particular way, and feeling as though nature had mimicked art, even though it was always the other way around. Imagine they stopped and admired how the leaves overhead parted for them, and the sky clasped peacefully between morning sun and remnants of the night before. One of those real pretty days. It made all the sense in the world to assume they, in their wonder- Or ability to feel wonder at all- could be possibly the farthest thing from any of those men then.

Weather was all the context a guy could ask for.

Contextually (if you happened to find yourself on your way to kill a man), it didn't make much sense to have more than a black bird or two gliding overhead, and no more than a moment's glance before your car overtook it, making their figures like mental imprint, maybe something you saw outlined behind your eyelids if you blinked. If you could blink. The air was thick and wet like smoke. The road outstretching before them consumed currents of time, fog unveiling- slowly, infinitely- more and more of the same beaten down lane.

Rain was exactly right. It made the shit they forced themselves knuckle-deep into smell that much worse. That lingering stench stuck up their nostrils like blood in a broken nose, and it only even went away once the masks came off, which they hardly ever did.

The driver in this scenario happened to be a man by the name of Amour Dumont, though no one unfortunate enough to offer a second glance ever recognised him off the job, nor would they recognise any of the other four men occupying the black Audi; not with those large, leather pyramids they wore over their heads. They looked fashionable- cool- in their suits and ties, and outright ominous whenever a head turned, and though you couldn't see their eyes, or their expressions, or their bloodlust, you knew they saw you, and you knew perfectly well the guns balancing over their knees weren't some fancy bluffs.

What you probably didn't know was that it got damn-right humid in a leather pyramid head.

"What a shit-hole. You'd think there'd be at least a gas station around here." Amour turned a corner. He pulled at the underside of his mask to let a bit of that hot breath out the other end. Maybe if the base weren't so tight around his neck-.

He considered bringing it up to Pyronica on their return, but she'd accuse him of putting on a few extra pounds before ever admitting her measurements were off. Might even throw a wrench at his head. Wouldn't be the first time.

His comrade behind him snorted. "You've been spending too much time in that damn mansion again; go out on the town and see how the local folks are living," he suggested, tapping his window as the trees blurred by. Amour sat up straight, chin high.

"I'm not trying to sound pompous, I just think it's poor planning to have all this road, and not a break stop or someplace to eat. What if one of us needs to pee?"

"Take a look around you, Amorphous. Those trees are nature's urinals."

"You won't catch me taking a piss on poison ivy," Amour (or Amorphous. Didn't matter) scoffed in turn.

"You wouldn't have to worry about pissing on poison if you knew the difference between a couple o' weeds and a tree."

"Poison ivy grows on trees, Keyhole," Amour snarked, calling him 'Keyhole' like he meant 'Asshole.' It was a running gag between the two. He took a moment to himself, hoping to peek beyond the roots and leaves and road for even a gander at something that wasn't quite so green, before sinking back in his seat. If his hand could touch his hair, it'd certainly be combing through a fist-full of the stuff. "That's not the point. These are one of those spots people break down at, that's all I'm saying. No signal, no places close by. It's bad luck."