𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎. Give Me a Hero and I'll Write You a Tragedy

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 The wait is worse than everything she's ever felt, Kathryn thinks

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 The wait is worse than everything she's ever felt, Kathryn thinks. Which is a lot coming from her. But waiting for John B to come back and for Max to call is unnerving. It's sending her down a spiral because what if something happened? Then what? What is she supposed to do?

The plane flies over them, low in the sky. It took off. Whatever happened on the runway, it didn't turn in their favour.

"There goes the gold," JJ lets out.

So what exactly happened? They lost the gold, that's for sure now. It's going to the Bahamas, and they definitely are not getting there, they lost, but just how much? Not knowing is worse than knowing.

"Shit!" JJ kicks a chair.

"Fuck!" Pope throws a metal bar into a discarded microwave, sending glass shards everywhere.

That's excessive. "Pope?"

"God damn it!" He takes a baseball bat and hits it against a table. "Shit! Fuck!"

He then goes for the walls, destroying everything, sending stuff flying until he's too out of breath to go on, panting and looking at his friends in defeat.

He sits on a thrown over couch, wincing. There are tears in his eyes.

"Pope?" Kathryn sits next to him. "Are you okay, mate? That's pretty severe."

"Yeah, dude," JJ lets out, still astonished. "I was wondering when this was gonna happen."

He earns himself a glare from Kie and Kathryn. That's not going to help.

Handing him his Juul filled with weed isn't either. "Here you go, chief."

Kathryn gives him a look. "Seriously?"

"A little weed never hurt no one."

"JJ," Kie calls.

"Relax, Kie."

"You know he doesn't smoke."

Still, the situation is so dire that Pope grabs the Juul. "Well, maybe not until today."

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