"Celestia and DealerAnon Pt. 23"
By smeg (https://pastebin.com/u/smeg)

URL: https://pastebin.com/VR5N0erC
Created on: Thursday 4th of December 2014 09:30:38 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Sunday 25 of October 2020 08:05:49 AM UTC


>Running towards the addict greedily perusing the contents of Celestia's handbag, you feel anger bubbling inside you
>This motherfucker better know where she is
>Behind you, the slamming of car doors indicates that Ty and Santiago have jumped out too
''Hey! You!''
>The addict's head snaps around, giving him an eyeful of angry Anon
>Eyes looking like headlights, he bolts off into the darkened alley, dodging dumpsters and empty boxes, handbag still clenched in his grasp
>You take off after him and pull your gun out
''Stop, motherfucker! I'll shoot!''
>The only effect your yelling has on him is bringing forth a small yelp
>Behind you, Santiago is yelling something to Ty
>Running down the filth-encrusted alley, the addict takes a sharp turn to the right
>Following closely in his footsteps, you bolt to the right as well, an almost identical alley opening before your eyes
>The running addict is silhouetted against the snow-white road outside the alley entrance
>You know that the only thing slowing him down here are the piles of trash and overflowing dumpsters
>If he gets out of the alley you'll pretty much have to wing him to catch up
>The last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself, and a gunshot is a guaranteed way of attracting it
>Suddenly, the addict stops mere feet from you, and with panicked strength, flings one of the dumpsters so that it's blocking your way
>In the next moment, a lot of things happen
>The addict takes off like a blue hedgehog, and your attempted jump over the dumpster ends with one of your feet catching on the edge
>Time seems to slow to a crawl as you desperately grasp for a handhold in the air, but to no avail
>You feel yourself flying in something akin to a botched front flip, and the ground is coming closer a bit too fast
''Oh fuc-''
>Your cursing is cut short by painfully landing on your back, and you feel the wind get knocked out of your lungs
>With tiny, flashing dots flying across the edges of your vision, you see the runner briefly looking back
>Smirking at your condition, he stops and does an impromptu victory dance, his gangly form a striking contrast to the snow in the backdrop
>''Yeah, motherfucker!''
>Fuck it
>There's no way to catch up to him now
>Your right hand fumbles for your gun as you shakily rise to your feet, your chest burning from exertion and pain
>As the addict spots the glint of chrome in your hand, he takes off without even looking back again
>Steadying your breath and taking aim, you try to stop your hand from shaking
>Fucking cocaine comedown
>Despite your shaking, the addict is now squarely in your sights, the .45 aimed at his center of mass
>Cursing under your breath, you let the gun drift lower, aiming at his right thigh
>This is it
>Mentally steeling yourself for the recoil and noise, you take a deep breath and steady your hands best you can, your forefinger slowly squeezing the trigger
>Suddenly, the addict is joined by another silhouette, the newcomer grabbing the junkie by the collar
>A split-second later, the druggie is forcefully flung agains the wall with a loud thunk, his forehead striking the concrete
>You let the trigger go, the gun slumping to your side
>Taking a deep breath, you jog off in the direction of the two struggling shapes
>Judging from the wet cracking sound and muffled scream coming from the floored addict, you assume the mysterious stranger has cracked the junkie's nose bone
>Drawing closer, you notice the newcomer currently holding the runner in a headlock looks awfully familiar
>''What's up, mate?''
>The newcomer cracks a grin, sparse light glinting off his teeth
''Teapot?''
>''One and only, mate. Now-''
>The addict's struggles are cut short by the tightening headlock
>''Stay still, fucker. Now, what's this guy do to ya?''
>Now close enough to make out his face, you answer his grin with an uncertain smile
''I just wanted to ask him some questions, that's all.''
>''Questions, huh? What kind?''
>You point at the handbag now lying in the filth of the alley, it's contents splayed out on the ground
''Well, where he got that, for starters.''
>Teapot clicks his tongue, grin still present on his face
>Turning to the addict, he chuckles and takes a scolding tone
>''Now, what was that all about, Ronnie? Been robbing pretty girls again, have we?''
>With Teapot relaxing his grip on the addict's throat after some insistent squirming and grunting, the addict's raspy voice fills the alley
>''I swear man, I didn't do nothing, man! I swear!''
''How'd you get that then, huh?''
>You lean in and press the cold steel of the barrel against the junkie's cheek
>Fear and discomfort evident in his voice, the junkie coughs shakily
>''I found it, I swear, man!''
>Leaning in even closer, your voice adopts a low, dangerous purr as you forcefully press the gun to his head
>The addict grimaces and closes his eyes in fear, his yellowed teeth looking like they might fall out any second
''You better tell me how you found it, and do it now. Or else-''
>You pull back the hammer with an audible click, sending the junkie into a fit of hyperventilation
>Truth be told, if you weren't so angry you'd probably be hyperventilating too
>The burning knot of panic in your stomach is nothing new, and you hope to God you won't have to pull the trigger
>''A-alright, man, I'll tell you, o-okay? J-just please, stow the p-piece, man, okay?''
>Sighing deeply, you flick the safety back on and uncock the hammer, stowing the piece back into the front of your pants
>The addict opens his eyes slowly, with a mixed look of surprise and relief in his eyes
''Now, talk.''
>''Th-thanks, man. Thank you.''
>Teapot shakes the shaken addict with a playfully disapproving look on his face
>''Any fucking day now, sweetheart.''
>''Oh, yeah, yeah. I-I'll tell. Just, can you p-please let my neck go, man?''
>Teapot turns his eyes to you with a questioning look, and you answer him with a nod
>As he relinquishes his grip, he stands up 
>The addict follows suit, casting nervous glances at you and the Cockney skinhead blocking the alley exit
>''No funny business, mate.''
''Yeah. Don't try any shit.''
>The addict hunches down, looking like a scared rabbit cornered by two foxes
>''A-alright, man, alright. I promise, okay?''
>You impatiently motion for him to continue, the crackhead getting on your nerves more and more
''The bag. How the fuck did you get it?''
>''Alright, man, alright. So, I was just sitting here, alright? Then, this pretty lady comes through, all posh and shit, alright?''
''Get on with it.''
>''Yeah, so I asks her if she could lend me a buck or two, alright? So the bitch just walks by, and-''
>You draw closer and grab him by his collar, anger bubbling up once again
''She's not a 'bitch', alright? She's a fine lady, alright?''
>''Hey, hey man, I'm sorry, alright? S-so this lady just walks on by and shit, so I follow her a bit, and-''
''Wait. You followed her? Why?''
>You tighten your grip on his collar, the addict looking even more scared
>''It-it's not like that, man, I swear! She jus' didn't look like she was from here, s-so I followed her to keep th' lady safe, yeah?''
>He erupts into a nervous grin and you let go of his collar, leaving him visibly relieved
''Likely as fuck.''
>Brushing aside your jab, he dusts his collar with an air of indignation
>''Anyway, I was just walking toward her when this big ol' fat guy comes up behind her, alright? They start talking', and then, outta th' blue, boom!''
>He slaps his fist into his palm, as if to illustrate the events
>''Guy knocks her on her pretty head and the bit- lady falls down like a sack o' bricks, alright? So, he picks her up and takes her to this big-ass van outside th' alley and dumps her in.''
>You feel the knot in your stomach rapidly tightening, and a cold wave of fear washes over you
>So, Celestia is kidnapped, very possibly hurt, and maybe even dead
>The chill of fear quickly mixes with a blaze of anger
>Whoever did this to her deserved to pay
>Whoever that motherfucker was, you'd get him
>But then what?
>You don't know
>And as you remember why she even walked down the alley alone in the first place, you feel a wave of guilt and shame mixed with nausea washing over you
>If only you hadn't yelled at her
>If only she hadn't found the baggie
>You know very well that it's your fault
>You may not be the one who knocked her out, but you were the one that caused her to leave
>For the first time in what seems like an eternity, you find yourself wondering what life would be like with a normal job
>Celestia would still be with you if you just worked nine to five
>Hell, you would've already left Slateside behind you if you worked normally
>Maybe you and Celestia would even-
>The sound of footsteps echoing down the alley breaks your thoughts
>The steps are soon followed by shouting
>''Anon, bro! What the fuck man, we been looking around the block for your ass!''
>''Ese, don't go off like that, man!''
>You clearly see Teapot's eyes narrow as the footsteps draw closer, his body language clearly showing that he is ready to start throwing punches at any second
>Oh shit
>You turn around just in time to see Ty, closely followed by Santiago, running up to you, Ty grabbing you in a bear hug
>''Man, next time at least tell us what you plan to do, aight?''
''Y-yeah, sure.''
>Ty lets you down and gives you a grin, before turning his eyes to Teapot
>''So, who this guy?''
>Santiago takes his place beside you and squeezes your shoulder, eyes narrowing at Teapot
>Or, looking at it through his eyes, the tattooed skinhead wearing a flight jacket and a 'White Pride Worldwide' t-shirt
>You give Ty and Santiago your best attempt at a disarming smile
''Oh, this? That's, uh, Teapot. Yeah.''
>You turn to Teapot, the skinhead clearly tense over the situation
''Teapot, these two are Ty and Santiago. Very good friends of mine.''
>The crack addict, with an extremely confused look on his face, takes the ensuing standoff-esque silence as his cue to speak
>''Hey, man, did you say your name was Anon?''
''Yeah, how so?''
>The crack addict cracks a relieved grin, yellowed, rotting teeth showing
>''Man, don't you remember me? I'm-''
>Teapot interrupts the addict with a slap to the back of the head
>''Shut the fuck up, Ronnie.''
>Santiago breaks the tense silence with a suspicious look on his face
>''Ey, ese, where did you even find this guy?''
''It's Teapot. Him and his crew saved me when I got stomped.''
>Relieved that the tension is somewhat broken, you babble on
>Ty steps forward with an uncertain smile on his face, holding his hand out in a greeting
>Stopping just in front of Teapot, he gives his best attempt at a friendly grin
>''So, you saved Anon, eh? That's damn good of you, brother.''
>Instead of returning the handshake, Teapot just stares at Ty with a disbelieving look on his face
>Slowly but surely, a mocking grin creeps onto his face
>''Ty, huh? What's that short for, mate? Tyrone? Tyreese?''
>Ty's grin quickly turns into a glare, and you find yourself holding Santiago by the shoulder
>You don't want any violence to occur
>''It's Tyler.''
>''Tyler, huh? Well, mate, that's not the first name I'd picked for you.''
>''Well, I wouldn't name my own kid Teapot either, so I guess we in the same boat.''
>Santiago erupts into laughter as Teapot steps closer to Ty with a livid look on his face
>''You fucking what?''