Rise

Define

A trembling hand holds the lighter aflame as the other hand dangles a supply bag above it. Dez steps out into the open, putting on his best poker face - though he never really was any good at bluffing. Biting his lower lip, he tries to maintain his hold on the metal cartridge.

"Dagummit, boy, what do ya think yer doin'?!" the pale, sunburnt man was quick to exclaim as the redheaded boy came into light from beside the building. He tosses his beer can behind him and advances towards the boy.

"Take us back to our van like you said you would, and I won't burn this bag," the determined boy asserts, his friend trailing close behind him, the other bag in one hand and her machete in the other.

"Hey, now...Put that lighter down. We're men of our word, see." The larger man raises his hands in surrender. It's clear to them now that whatever it is that the mercenaries want from these bags, it's flammable. "We don't want any trouble. We'll take you back safe and sound."

"I'm not putting anything down." Dez approaches them adamantly, Trish quickening her pace to catch up with him. The two halt before their captors. "What's in these bags that's so important anyway?"

"That's none of your concern," Sam asserts. His scrawny companion nods in agreement.

"Yeah, nonya bees." Ray delivers the same message in his own dialect, arms crossed. "And we's still got guns. Y'all should be scared a us."

"Guns, huh? On you?" Trish questions, raising the second supply bag next to Dez's, above the flame. "Cause it looks like you two let your guard down. Rookie mistake." Ray clenches his fists.

"We've got worse things to spend our ammo on than a couple of kids. We're not wasting any bullets on the likes of you two." Sam lowers his hands. "Give us the bags and get on the pick-up. We'll take you back."

"No." Dez shakes his head, though his shivering may have made his body language unclear. "We'll hold onto these until you get us back to our van."

"And empty the truck before we get on it. Your pockets and belt...Holder-thingies, too. That's the deal," Trish appends. Dez scrunches his brows together, confused as to why she would request that. She raises a brow at him and waits for him to get it. It takes him a few moments, but the realization eventually dawns on his face.

"Right. No weapons." The redhead leans his head towards the girl and whispers to her. "By the way, they're called holsters."

"Whatever," she sharply whispers back. After a bit of a stare-down between the two parties, their captors give in to the demands made with a simultaneous raise of their hands in surrender. Whatever these bags contain, they must be of grave importance to the two men, Trish suspects, wondering if it'd be a good idea to let them take the bags at all. But it's the only bargaining chip they have.

"Done and done." Ray dumps his assortment of knives onto the ground. "But if we come back 'ere and find our stuff's all gone, it's on you two. So y'all better drive fast after we drop ya off." Sam proceeds to the pick-up and begins cleaning it out, as promised.

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"We held up our part. Now hand over our bags," Sam demands, wasting not a second's time upon reaching the van. He and Ray hop out of their respective sides of the pickup, waiting impatiently as the two youngsters climb out the back, bags in hand - lighter readily lit.

Dez stares down the two men a few moments longer before reeling his arm back to toss then one of the bags. He stops himself mid-toss. "Wait."

"Oh, what now, pumpkin-head?!" Ray cries, veins in his neck visibly popping. "Like Sammy said, we done our part."