Rogue | outer banks

032 - Getting Even

"Welcome to Crackhead Wasteland," Sarah muttered drily, the Twinkie bumping along the uneven gravel path and zigzagging through the crap littered over the streets.

Sarah wasn't wrong – this place was the epitome of run-down, ruined, and drug-infested. But, in a strange way, it felt like home for me. A place where countless nights were spent laughing and having a good time with Rafe and Barry. The familiarity of the decay, the overgrown foliage, and the dilapidated shacks held memories that, despite their tumultuous nature, felt like a part of me.

"I don't know about this, man," Pope said, his eyes darting from left to right, taking in all the run-down shacks and the miles of overgrown foliage.

"Dude, why are we at Barry's?" Kiara asked, voicing the concern that lingered in the air.

"This'll only take a second," JJ said roughly, not bothering to provide any more answers as he pushed open the door, leaving us all staring in bewilderment and worry.

"Where are you going?" John B called, furrowing his brow at JJ as he strolled up the decaying steps into Barry's empty house.

"Yo soy justicia," JJ sang carelessly, not looking back as he yanked open the creaking front door and easily slipped inside.

"Did you get anything from that?" Pope asked, his frustration evident as he ran his hands across his face.

"You know somebody should probably—" Kiara frowned, looking to John B and then to me.

"Yeah, I got it," John B sighed, pushing open the door and climbing out. I blanched as he turned to me, raising an expectant brow. "Come on, Lia."

"What?" I squeaked, caught off guard by the sudden request.

"If he's going to listen to someone, that's you," John B said, frowning and not looking away.

I sighed, glancing at Pope and Kie, who nodded in solemn agreement. A mix of anxiety and responsibility welled up within me as I swallowed my reservations, climbing out of the back and stepping through the door. "I'm not gonna do the talking," I muttered, the weight of the situation settling over me.

I followed John B up the steps, a momentary pause gripping me before the door swung open, and we entered swiftly. The familiarity of this place struck a chord within me, a stark reminder that the last time I set foot here, it was with Rafe and for him. Now, the circumstances were different — it was with JJ and for JJ.

As we stepped further into the house, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia mixed with apprehension. This was no longer the carefree haven it once seemed to be. The weight of the present situation, the tension between JJ and the looming uncertainty, added a layer of complexity to the once-familiar surroundings.

"So, what's the plan, slick?" John B questioned exasperatedly, directing his gaze at JJ, who rifled through papers and mess on the table, then behind the sofa cushions.

He didn't bother turning to look at us as he muttered to himself. "Well, as thou hath stealeth from us," JJ mused, his voice taking on a medieval tone as he threw pillows and empty bottles around. "We shall stealeth from ye."

"That kind of got lost in translation," John B cocked his head, frowning.

"An eye for an eye, John B," JJ sniped, standing up and turning.

When his eyes fell on me, his lips clamped shut, and I saw a muscle in his jaw tick. I stood there, unmoving and silent, allowing him to run his gaze over me, letting him adjust. JJ cleared his throat, sensing John B tracking the tension between us before he moved over to the kitchen, his eyes now hard.