"Celestia and DealerAnon Pt. 7"
By smeg (https://pastebin.com/u/smeg)

URL: https://pastebin.com/N7Lh4aGZ
Created on: Sunday 23rd of November 2014 01:25:34 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Sunday 25 of October 2020 08:06:18 AM UTC


>The November night embraces you as you step outside
>The walk home wasn't particularly long, but still long enough to sober you up a bit in case Celestia was up
>Smiling up at the yellow street lights and falling snowflakes that already covered the streets in a thick layer, you light a cigarette and put your earbuds in
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfT-q3aCgS0 
>Taking off at a slow pace with your hand on your gun, you start thinking
>Despite Slateside being dirty and dangerous, you still felt so at home here
>Creeping slowly at night with seemingly nothing to worry about, slightly tipsy from the forty
>Just walking, letting the seedy underbelly of the city take you in and shield you
>Becoming almost one with the night, entering that meditative state where you were finally able to see the beauty lying behind the rusted railings
>Behind the filthy, cramped tenements and their impoverished occupants
>Hiding somewhere, just out of reach, blotted out by the drugs, the gunfights, the poverty and the filth
>Somehow the snow made it just that more dreamlike
>A dirty winter wonderland

>Around fifteen minutes later, you're almost home
>The alleys and cramped tenements give way to more familiar surroundings, townhouses and front yards with small, garden-like spaces in front
>Garden-like only because no self-respecting gardener would've touched the overgrown spaces with a ten-foot pole
>Your thoughts are interrupted by a hand on your shoulder
>You flinch and turn around quickly, desperately fiddling with the safety catch on your .45
>In front of you are two black guys, both of them younger than you, one of them holding a knife a bit too close to your throat
>Your mouth gets even drier than before and your heartbeat reaches a new level of panic
''Hey, uh, what's all this-''
>'Man, shut the fuck up! Get yo hands out of yo pockets!''
>To emphasize his point, the closer one pushes the point of the knife against your Adam's apple
>Shit
>There's not much you can do with a gun at this range
>Well, you'd rather live to fight another day
>You slowly take your hands out of your pockets, showing your assailants your palms
>The message is clear, you don't want any trouble
''Hey, man, I don't want no trouble, okay?''
>''Nigga, if you don't shut the fuck up and gimme yo wallet you gonna have trouble, dig?''
''Yeah, I hear you, I just-''
>The blow is as fast as it is unexpected
>For a brief moment, you see only white and feel hot pain cascading on the left side of your face
>The closer one lifts his fist again and presses the side of the knife onto your chin
>He looks both pissed and scared at the same time
>''I told yo ass to shut the fuck up! Gimme you wallet now!''
>You sigh, feeling a bruise form under your left eye and pull out your wallet
''I'm telling you, you don't want to do this.''
>''Man, shut yo ass up 'fore I kill you.''
>He grabs your wallet and hands it to his friend, who rapidly checks it for money
>''Shit man, jack-fucking-pot! There's like two hunna here!''
>Both of them smirk at you
>''Now, what we gonna do with yo white ass?''
''You really think you could kill me? You know how many motherfuckers are gonna come after you if you do it?''
>You try to say something, anything, to get them to walk off
>He gives you a half-crazed smile and cuts your cheek, pain rocketing through your head
>''But you won't be able to do shit, nigga. Yo ass gonna be dead.''
''Alright, alright, I'll walk off, okay? No need for blood, okay?''
>Your heart is beating faster than ever before and you almost feel like shitting yourself
>''I don't think so.''
>With a smirk, he kicks you in the nuts and you double over in pain
>The next kick hits you square in the chest, and you fall on your back
>Amidst kicks and punches, you curl up in a ball, wishing for the pain to be over
>Kicks strike your ribs and stomach, and you vomit into the snow, the drifts already spattered with red
>You cough and spew out the contents of your stomach, the bitter taste of stomach acids mingling with the taste of blood in your mouth
>As soon as the pain started, it's disappeared
>You feel heavy, tears forming behind your closed eyes
>You don't want to die
>You don't want to fucking die
>Not like this