Band Fanfiction (One-Shots)

Brallon >> Work

written by LostKilljoy_ and me

Dallon paced the room, waiting for his master to announce the current plan. Of course, it wasn't the kinky kind of master; Dallon's master was a ganglord, known internationally (according to him). Dallon knew that Mongolians probably had no clue of him, and his master knew that too. No, his master was a more local Al Capone.

Nevertheless, Dallon was scared. He almost felt like huddling in a ball and whimpering like a little baby, but he knew he couldn't, not with his master watching him speculously.

Dallon knew he would never be able to carry out with the task he would be given; he was too much of a wimp. His master knew that, yet he challenged Dallon to his breaking point.

"Alright," his master said grudgingly. "I know what we're gonna do." His New York accent rang through the empty warehouse they had just recently claimed as their base.

Dallon couldn't speak. He was nervous, sure, but that's not why. He was literally forbidden to speak by the king himself.

"We're gonna rob ol' McDonald's."

Dallon widened his already owl-like eyes. McDonald's would be too crowded at this time; this request from his master was too demanding. It could never be done without taking hostages. One word rang through Dallon's head: stupid.

"I know what you're thinking. It could never be done. But I have an idea that will get us through the American goldmine!" The master's yellow teeth glimmered behind the fat browm cigar that was like a factory of poison, smoke pumping out.

"We," Master yanked Dallon's collar and leaned close to his face, "are gonna drug 'em."

Dallon was skeptical, to say the least.

"S-Sleeping drugs?" Dallon stammered. His master's face grimaced and slapped Dallon across the face.

"How many times do I have to tell you the number one rule if you're gonna be in this with me?"

Dallon didn't have a choice whether or not he wanted to be in it with his master.

"No..." he smiled at Dallon, "talking."

Dallon hastily nodded, implying that he was sorry. His master gave a curt nod and repositioned his cigar.

"There's a truck comin' in from Mississippi carryin' all types of drugs. You are gonna have to capture it."

Dallon was sweating. He'd never be able to do it.

"Are you stupid, Dal? I don't need no dummies on my team. You can just go the pharmacy and buy them."

His master handed him a twenty dollar bill. That was enough to buy, what, two bottles of sleeping medicine? Dallon grasped the money in his hand and shoved it in his pocket. He would have to chip in for this robbery, but he knew it'd be worth it.

"We're gonna pour the medicine in the vents, real nice and slow. Like this!" His master began to demonstrate, tipping his hand ever so slightly.

"But sir, that won't work if we don't turn the medicine into a gas form," Dallon whispered, hesitating.

His master yanked him by the collar again, but he let Dallon go once he realized how ingenious that was. "Of course! The one time you actually say somethin' smart."

His master laughed, and Dallon smiled sheepishly. "Now, go get the medicine. The stronger the better."

---

"Hey, uh, could you come in for work today? We're busy busy!"

Brendon huffed. Today was supposed to be the best day of his life; he was about to go grocery shopping. So exciting, right? Nevertheless, he didn't have a problem with more money, so he said he would and hung up.