Disclaimer: I don't own Albino Alligator or any of the characters or other things associated with it. I don't intend to make any money from this.

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Entwined

"Come on, Dova. This is stupid. Let's go home."

"Aw, shut up, ya little coward. Do it, boss."

Dova sat in the driver's seat of the rusty old Ford pick-up, staring at the thing in his hands. The truck wasn't stolen. It belonged to Law. Dova had considered stealing a car again, but in the end he had wanted the truck.

He told himself for the hundredth time that this was the right thing to do. Maybe the only thing he could do, now. Milo was usually right, but this was just one of those things he wasn't good at. Anyway, he told himself firmly, you're committed. Only a chickenshit would back out now.

"Please don't." Milo sounded scared. And there was enough left of the old Dova to feel guilty about that. They were still brothers, after all. Milo was older than him by a full three years. If life had been kinder to him, he might easily have become the leader of their gang. And if things had turned out that way, he sure as hell wouldn't have made Dova sound scared like that.

And if wishes were horses…

"Why ya wanna make such a big deal of everythin', Milo? You're carryin' on like your life is at risk!" This was followed by Law's barking laughter.

"Dova!"

"I have to do this. I'm sorry, Milo, I really am. I don't think you know how much."

"Aw, you're breakin' ma heart", Law put in, but there wasn't much bite in it. He was getting his way, and Dova could tell he was pleased.

Dova squinted at the passenger side of the truck cab, trying to see Law's features, but it was too dark. He could just barely see Law's silhouette against the window. He couldn't see Milo at all, but he knew his brother had wedged himself into the small storage space behind the seat.

There was one more thing that needed to be said before he got on with this. Dova steeled himself, because he knew what kind of reception this was probably going to get. "That goes for you, too, Law. I'm sorry."

But Law's response surprised him. "I know, boss."

Dova swallowed around the lump in his throat, and nodded, once. Then he raised the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

*******

The sun was rising. It lit up a rusting old truck sitting at the edge of a Louisiana swamp. Inside the cab rested the body of a thin, dark-haired man in his early thirties. A perfectly round hole adorned the right side of his head. It would be more than a week before anyone hauled the truck away. They would bury his body next to that of his brother who had been killed recently by a Canadian terrorist in a little out-of-the-way bar. No one knew enough to bury Law beside them.

Nearby, three men stood together. Two of them gazed at the truck, while the third nonchalantly watched the sunrise. After a while, the leader tore his eyes away from the truck where his body lay entombed. The others looked to him, waiting. And again, he nodded. The three friends turned away from the tomb and set off toward whatever awaited them.