Title:           Celestia and DealerAnon Pt. 24
Author:          smeg
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/PXLZvWRS
First Edit:      Friday 12th of December 2014 03:16:56 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Monday 25th of July 2016 08:47:15 AM CDT

>You are Anon
>And you have a feeling that the situation is escalating a little too rapidly
>Teapot and Ty are currently facing each other in something akin to a Mexican standoff, anger written on both their faces
>Santiago, despot your efforts to hold him back, is now heading towards the bickering pair, clearly prepared for violence
>The crack addict looks more confused than ever, gaze shifting rapidly between the bag and your faces
>Fuck
>You really need a bump right about now
>You really, really need one
>The voices of Ty and Teapot echoing through the alley are doing nothing to ease your mood
>''Man, shut yo mouth 'fore the whole place starts smelling like dick!''
>''I'll bash your fucking head in, mate!''
>In what seems like a split second, a lot of things happen
>Teapot spits into Ty's face and grabs him by the collar, a pair of brass knuckles appearing in his other hand
>Ty grabs Teapot by the hand, trying to wrest his collar out of the skinhead's grip
>Santiago steps closer to them with a dangerous grin on his face, the hand in his pocket clearly containing something sharp
''Guys!''
>The only one paying any heed is the addict, currently looking for routes of escape
>You don't blame him, this could turn out really ugly
''Guys, chill the fuck out!''
>Your voice is drowned out by Ty and Teapot yelling obscenities mere inches from each other
>Fine
>Taking a deep breath, you raise your gun, preparing yourself for the noise
>BANG
>The gunshot echoing through the alley leaves a ringing sensation in your ears and your heart starts beating furiously
>Again, many things happen in a mere second
>Ty, Teapot and the addict all flinch at the unexpected noise, the addict clearly starting to panic again
>You still don't blame him, the cold sweat running down your back indicating that you feel the same
>Santiago backs off with a slightly shocked look on his face, leaving whatever he was intent on wielding safely in his pocket
''Guys, calm the fuck down, alright?''
>You step between the now quiet pair and bodily separate them from each other, pushing both backwards
>You turn to Teapot, anger clear on your features
''Teapot, stow the fucking dusters! We don't have time for this shit!''
>''I'm not tak-''
>Turning to Ty and Santiago next, you cut off the skinhead's indignant reply
''Ty, Santiago, chill the fuck out, alright? We're here to question this motherfucker-''
>You point at the crack addict, the waifish man shaking like a leaf in the breeze
''Not kill each other, okay? Do it in your own fucking time, guys.''
>Ty and Santiago both glare at you, clearly unhappy
>''Anon, brother, this Hitler wannabe fucking started-''
>Drowning out Teapot's obscenity-laced reply, you cut Ty off as fast as you can
''I don't give a fuck, man! We're here for this guy, nothing else.''
>You point at the shaky addict again, absent-mindedly noting that you stall have your gun in your hand
>Cursing quietly, you stow the piece and turn to the addict
''Now, is everybody here going to behave?''
>Angry silence is the only answer you get
''Alright. So, what happened after the guy knocked her out?''
>The addict, although still shaken, seems to calm down a bit with the gun safely tucked away
>''Th' fat guy throws her in the van and just takes off, alright?''
>Taking your silence as a cue to go on, the addict points a shaking finger behind you
>''Th-they went that way, man. That's all I know. Honest.''
>You frown and rub your head, the alley now completely silent but for the ringing in your ears
''When did this happen?''
>''Half an hour ago, tops. I think they went to Emerald Hills, man.''
''What's the car look like?''
>The addict shrugs, picking a scab on his neck
>''Dark green van, maybe a Toyota? I don't know, man, I ain't no mechanic.''
>The addict gives you his best attempt at a smile
''Hm. Alright. Hey Ty, you know anyone with a dark green Toyota van?''
>Ty shrugs in response, clearly still unhappy
>''No idea, bro. Let's just get the fuck away from here before the cops show up.''
''Are you sure, man? I really-''
>''I'll see what I can do, alright? Let's just get the fuck outta here.''
''Sure, whatever. Santiago?''
>''Right behind you, ese.''
''See you around, Teapot.''
>The Cockney skinhead grumbles something in reply
>You turn around and start collecting the spilled-out contents of the bag, when the addict grabs you by your sleeve
>''Man, you gotta take me with you, okay?''
''Yeah? And why's that?''
>The addict is clearly scared enough to be unfazed by your tone
>''Man, I helped you, didn't I? You can't leave me here, man. If the cops find me they're going to put me in the-''
''Sorry man, no dice. Appreciate the help, though.''
>''You don't understand, man! If they find me, they're gonna beat me and put me back in the pen! I don't wanna go back in the slammer!''
''Better start running, then.''
>You are really starting to get tired of this guy, and your expression shows it
>''Man, what the fuck? I been your customer for years, man!''
>You are now both face to face, the addict glaring at you with a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes
>''You know what they do to you in prison, man? I can't go back there!''
>You shrug, involuntarily shaking from the comedown
''That's business, now if you'll excuse me-''
>Your attempt at leaving is cut short by Teapot grabbing your shoulder and shaking you
''Hey man, what the fuck?''
>''What's this about being your 'customer', mate?''
>His tone is low and dangerous, the familiar London drawl creeping into his voice
''I just-''
>You are cut off by the junkie, currently rubbing his temples
>''He's the one I been buying from for years, man. And he still don't even wanna give me a ride!''
>Teapot steps closer to you, and you feel his grip tightening
>''So, you sell, huh?''
>He gives you a contemptuous smirk, and you see a vein in his forehead throbbing
>Ty and Santiago are now flanking you, both alarmed by this new development
''Well, yeah. Sometimes I-''
>So what you're saying is that you're the cunt that's been poisoning Slateside?''
>You try to give him your best attempt at a disarming smile and chuckle nervously, your tone betraying the cold knot of fear in your stomach
''Hey, I don't even sell that much, honestly. Just so I can get by, you know?''
>Teapot sighs and lets your shoulder go, a crestfallen look on his face
>''You know what, mate? I'm really, really disappointed in you. I mean, here we are, trying to make this shithole-''
>He gestures at the snow-white streets outside and turns back to you
>''Trying to make this dump a place where kids can grow up safely, and not just become criminals or whores when they grow up.''
>He steps closer to you again, his face mere inches from yours, the familiar look of anger taking over once again
>''We've been working our fingers to the fucking bone here, fighting gangs, opening opportunities for employment and then-''
>He jabs your chest sharply, your ribs screaming in protest
>''And then, some shit-shovelling cunt like you comes and tears it down! You know what, Anon?''
''Y-yeah?''
>''I thought I could trust you. I thought that maybe, we'd found another soul who actually sees the state this place is in.''
>He chuckles bitterly and steps back again, disappointment now clear on his features
>''Instead, I just found another scumfuck bastard who keeps tearing down what we're trying to build here.''
>At this moment, Ty walks up beside you, anger blazing in his eyes
>''Yeah, and what exactly are you trying to build here? Some kind of white paradise? Some fucking wannabe-apartheid society?''
>Teapot rounds on Ty, eyes burning with conviction
>''And why don't you tell me what you and your kind have done for this place, mate? Fucking look at it!''
>Teapot throws his hands up in anger and gives an angry huff
>''Slateside is one of the most hopeless places in the US! One in three are born into poverty, drug addiction is off the charts and employment is at a minimum!''
>''Why are you blaming me, then?''
>''Because you are the ones to blame! You and the fucking dealers are all shitting up this place like no tomorrow, while expecting us to clean up after you!''
>''Hey man, I haven't done shit!''
>''Exactly! Only thing you do is leech off of this place, like it's going to last you forever!''
>''I don't leech. Neither does Santiago or Anon.''
>Teapot bursts into laughter, his voice taking a mocking tone
>''Sure, mate. Whatever you say. I'm sure you're all fucking angels. A drug dealer, a nigger and some fucking spic psycho. Sounds like good people to me.''
>''The fuck you say, pendejo?''
>Santiago steps up to Teapot, a small blade clutched in his hand, hate emanating from him like an aura of anger
>''Oh, you wanna start something, you fucking wetback?''
>''Yeah, I might. In fact, I'm gonna shove your head so far up the Queen's ass you'll see out her mouth.''
>Teapot laughs and pulls out the knuckledusters, the mocking sound reverberating off the walls of the alley
>''Mate, if you wanna try, feel free. Just don't forget to jump the border after you're done.''
>''The fuck that supposed to mean?''
>''It means that if you so much as touch me, I'll have the whole crew gunning for your taco-stuffing ass.''
>''You ain't gonna say shit if you're dead, ese.''
>''Lotta talk and no walk, mate. You really wanna try?''
>''I migh-''
>The sound of sirens wailing interrupts the argument
''Shit. Shit. Shit.''
>In moments, Santiago and Teapot sober up, both stowing their weapons
>As you start walking away, Teapot calls to you one last time
>''I'm warning you, mate. Stop selling. Don't forget, you owe us your life.''
''Yeah, I know.''
>''You don't want us to collect.''
>With a final smirk, Teapot runs out of the alley into the street outside as Ty shakes your shoulder
>''Come on, Anon. Let's go.''
''Yeah. Sure.''
>You shake yourself mentally and storm off in close pursuit of Ty and Santiago
>Behind you, the crackhead is clearly panicking
>''Hey, man, you can't fucking leave me here!''
>Ignoring him, the three of you break into a run, his frantic calls for help echoing behind you
>''Screw you, man! You fucking rats!''
>The run back to the car was panicked, to say the least
>The cops were never good news, especially not to you
>Being busted now would both ruin your life and leave Celestia in deep shit
>A quick pile-in later, Santiago is frantically revving the engine, windows and doorways flying by as you blast down the street
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TIyfCOGbI1k
>Roughly five blocks later, Santiago slows the car down to a crawl and turns to you
>''So, vato, where we going now?''
>You shrug, heart still racing from panic and adrenaline
''Emerald Hills, I guess. Ty, you think you can find anything?''
>Ty sighs and pulls out his phone, flicking through the extensive contact list
>''I'll see what I can find, brother. But I ain't promising shit.''
''Thanks Ty. Appreciate it.''
>You give him your best attempt at an encouraging smile, as Santiago speeds up once again
>With the soft bass reverberating through your body, you drift into your own thoughts
>Emerald Hills, huh?
>This wasn't going to be easy
 
>Emerald Hills was the biggest district in the city of Canterlot
>Despite it's glamourous name, it was anything but
>The whole district was mostly trailer parks and cheap housing growing around snakelike roads, the parts bordering Slateside littered with the all-too-familiar brown tenements
>Unsurprisingly, it was also the main producer of meth in the whole city, truckers and white trash spreading the crystalline drug across the whole county
 
 
>The sheer size of the district would make finding the house, let alone Celestia, incredibly difficult
>And everything would be so much easier if you could just snort some coke
>Shit
>Walking towards the trio, your tunneled vision firmly fixated on the assailants, you almost feel reedy to kill
>It might be the cocaine, it might be the pain you've felt or it might just be empathy
>Whatever it is, those two won't be doing this again
>You're going to make sure of that
>Close enough to make out the tears forming in her eyes, you take off in a jog, the pounding in your head now joined by the whimpers and pained grunts coming from the floored girl
''Surprise, motherfucker!''
>The two turning around in alarm, you throw a punch at the shorter one's nose, flooring the teenager with ease
>Flinching at the wet crack of his friend's nose bone breaking, the other one lifts his hand palms outward, seemingly trying to dissuade you
>''Whoa, dude! Chill ou-''
>His protests are cut short by your hand closing around his throat, the teenager struggling in vain, panicked wheezes coming from him
>With a yell, you clench sour other hand in a fist, throwing a solid punch to his nose, the familiar sound of crunching cartilage like music to your ears
>This was too easy
>Giving a solid push to the boy, he falls down with a thump, the blood running from his nose falling in small droplets on the ground
>The feeling of victory rushes through you, and you throw your hands up with a yell
''Yeah, motherfuckers! How do you li-''
 
 
 
>You'd been in a fair share of fights and gotten your ass handed to you more then a couple times
>Despite that, you've still performed some lot of full-on beatdowns
>To you, they've all been with good reason
>You'd never been a supporter of senseless violence
>If somebody owed you money, you'd always talk to them before whipping out your fists
>A dealer that made enemies of his clientele was either stupid or had a death wish
>A gang member, despite their posturing, still had something to live for
>A crackhead or tweaker with one foot in the grave didn't