Beeps and Buzzes

🦕 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

　　　

[ five years later ]
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"-- I gave you a $500 pound deposit, Rick! You said you'd hold onto it while I got the rest put together!"

Sheltered inside a dilapidated cinema's dead auditorium, decorated with splotches of mould and damp, where once memories were made now housed only whiffs of nostalgia. Rather literally. Your poor stomach wasn't coping well as every single rotten odeur infiltrated your nose, certain that (should you inhale anymore than expressly necessary) you were on the verge of throwing up.

Pigeons roosted above, leaving their own marks on history and very pleased with their accommodations and had been for many years judging from how grimey the decorative flourishes were. Dangling above one a large community of nests hung a rusted chandelier, threatening to break away if anyone were to just look at it funny.

Below was a torn sheet previously used to capture projections, ripped at one corner, rags hanging limply just above a musty navy blue carpet featuring gold to red swirls. Far as you'd taken to more, there was an old tent sitting just a little ways in the corner - but either its occupant had abandoned ship, or Rick (and his delightfully imposing personality) scared them away.

Ah, yes. Rick.

Ten gallon hat, one dollar attitude. All you could stand to know about him.

"Look, lady - some guy gave me that money and I wanted that hunk of crap gone. It's not my problem that you were late"

Sleazebag!

You earned this one bit of good fortune. Just a slight acknowledgement from the universe, you know? Mood so abysmally low, any spark of hope would've helped immensely.

Prior to actually bumbling across this little town, you had scarcely escaped a hairy situation at a Trailer park (of all places). Outed on a quick toilet run by some 'well-meaning' vigilante citizen, who'd eagerly placed you at gunpoint whilst her husband called that well advertised Government Hotline.

A lot happened. She screamed, you screamed, a dog howled and a very expensive Electric Bike was stolen.

Pretty sure Cemetery Wind had been hounding you for two days solid now. Black SUVs and everything. Which is why you ducked into some quaint looking town for a breather, only to stumble across a depressed Optimus Prime covered in musty old velvet curtains and rags.

Of course, being just an average everyday scumbag, Rick didn't know he was harbouring one of the most wanted 'political' figures in history. Caring only to line his pockets with paper gold, getting rid of a crusty old truck without paying removal fees just as an added bonus.

He wasn't worth the two day long slug of finding him, that's for sure. You've seen more pubs in the past two days than you had in seven years!

"I really hate you, you know that?" face set into an expression of pure hate, lips curled into a subtle snarl "if you and a bunch of criminals were tied to railroads, I'd save the criminals"

Rick did no more than quirk an eyebrow, leaning against a velvet seat "still sounds as though I'd be $1000 richer, lady" acting so cocksure, picking away at an identifiable stain blemishing his baby blue jacket.