If you were to search up the word "affluent" you wouldn't see a picture of Dean Ambrose anywhere. He wasn't in any mean wealthy. No big ass fancy house, bullshit suits or any other crap that rich people had. Hell, he barely even had an apartment! It looked more like a huge cardboard box; which he didn't even try to decorate and make look home-y. He was sure at some point he'd get kicked out anyways. The landlord was always up his ass about shit like that.
What the hell did the landlord expect? He's living in something as big as a fucking closet! Obviously all he had in his wallet was dust and a condom close to expiring. The only thing that got him by was borrowing money on the weekends. Okay…not really borrowing but more like taking money from people who didn't know he was…he stole. He wasn't proud of it! He knew shit like that was immoral, but how else was he going to survive? Nobody wanted him to work in their business. He was seen as someone who would fuck everything up. He couldn't blame it, because apparently he was one huge fuck up.
Nobody saw him is some big shot. His teachers, parents, friends…they all knew he was nothing but a loser. Hell, he was sure his own dog knew he was nothing but a waste of space. Knew. That old fart died a long time ago. He was meaning to get another one but he really couldn't cope with losing another dog.
A loud banging noise was heard at Dean's door. The 21 year old was sprawled over his couch; some sports game playing on his TV. Laziness kicking in; he decided to ignore it. But, soon the knocking started to get more annoying and it was obvious the person wasn't going to leave. So, he slowly got up and walked over to the door. Running a hand through the tangled mop of hair on his head, he opened the door and was met with the familiar look of disdain that he grew to love so much.
"Ambrose." The much older man in front of him said. He was slightly hunched with greying hair and an outfit that screamed out 'I'm a lonely old fuck.'
"My favorite guy." Ambrose lazily smirked, leaning his body on the doorframe. "It's always a treat when you're around."
The older man looked anything but amused with Ambrose. He never did; poor guy had a shit sense of humor. "Your rent was due last week, Ambrose. I warned you a week in advanced and you still bring it in late."
"See there was your mistake. A week is too long; I have shit memory." Ambrose spoke matter-of-fact.
"If you don't have it by this week I'm kicking you out." The man warned. "And, it'll be the best decision I'll ever make."
"Oh, now I'll have to have it early. You know I love to make your miserable." Dean pushed off from the door frame.
"Have it by this week." The man said finally before walking off while muttering incoherently.
"Crazy fuck." Dean muttered before closing the door.
He sat back at his spot, now much cooler than he left it but it was fine. Why the hell did he have to pay for a broom closet sized apartment anyways? Hell, he was sure a broom closet was much bigger than this bullshit. Well, Dean knew how to handle this. He'd just have to do what he always does. Slip on a black beanie (because why the hell would he wear a fucking ski mask in this heat?), slip into some random house, steal a few bucks and slip right back out. It's how he's done it since he moved out of his parent's house and he knew exactly how to do it perfectly. Making his parents proud.
Or, in fact, making his parents feel nothing. They never felt anything for him. After all he is a disappointment. He dropped out of college; he quit his shitty job at Shake Shack and was barely seen outside. He didn't call for lack of any telephone and he didn't write because who the fuck does that anymore? Dean had wiped himself, almost, out of everyone's lives including his parents so how could they feel anything for him? Now they didn't have to worry about him, no messed up son. Just them and whatever the hell they were doing.
"Might as well get this over with." Dean spoke to himself, as he always did, before opening the closet and slipping out a pair of jeans and his usual robbery attire. Dean always found the task of putting on pants to be so troublesome. He'd walk out without any if he knew he wouldn't be called a pervert and then whisked to jail. He had, surprisingly, lasted this far without entering the doghouse. Maybe he could thank God for that…or well he would, if he wasn't an atheist and all.
Dean sat on his couch as he slid his feet into boots before grabbing his leather jacket and sliding it on. The Ohio bred man was almost done he just needed one last thing.
"Betsy! Where are you?" He singsonged to himself as he rummaged through the mess on the coffee table. "There you are." He whispered as he pulled out a Walther P99.
'Betsy' as he so lovingly called it, was his pistol; his pride and joy. He hadn't killed anyone with it but he sure as hell had hurt some people. Never fatal, only on the arm or foot. Just enough where the person would back the fuck off whenever they threatened to call the cops. That usually did the trick. She had kept him safe from the world and he had paid her back with each cleaning and reload.
Placing a kiss on the top he slipped it into his pants and walked out of his house. He opted out on getting a bag. Bags always seemed too obvious to the man, he had pockets he could just stuff them; no big deal.
Slidingg his hands in his pocket, he strolled to the bus stop. Sure, maybe he shouldn't be taking the bus but how else would he be able to go to the richest part of town? They were wary of shady looking men like him and if he was in the bus they wouldn't notice. "They" being the crazy amount of security around the part of town that almost seemed like its own. Too him it was just a part of town full of stuck up bitches with their Lamborghinis and huge mansions. It was all sickening and was a part of town every "peasant" hated. If he had it his way he'd kick out each rich person and erase that part of town all together.
The bus came to a slow halt as the doors opened. Fishing in his jean pocket, Dean took out fare for the bus and threw the change in before going deep into the back. There weren't many people, of course in this time of night no one was in the bus. 12:00 am wasn't the best time to be out. It was when the danger came out to play; and in some way you could say he was part of that playground.
He diverted his eyes from everyone as he leaned his head on the window. He briefly remembered his first time. He had been nervous to do it. It was the start of his financial crisis. Dean had tried everything at that point, but he wasn't getting hired anywhere and his friends had stopped trying to help him. All other options were virtually a bust leaving him with two possible options; stealing or asking his parents. And, since he sworn to never speak to his parents again, he knew stealing was the only way to go.
He hadn't told anyone when he went to do it in fear of someone talking him out of it. Desperate times call for desperate measures and he wasn't about to risk the possibility of sleeping outside because of his morals. He liked his room albeit the heat was wonky sometimes but, it was all he had to his name and he liked it. So, he had strapped on an outfit similar to the one he has now and waltz into Richville.
He had chosen a random house that was relatively dark. He found getting in to be relatively easy, but he had forgotten about security systems. And, just like that he was running in the house as the system blared loudly. He had blindly stocked anything gold in his pockets as he heard footsteps running downstairs. Pure adrenaline and fear drove him to the window he entered, slipping out and running as far as he could.
He heard a few gunshots but had kept on running; a rush of excitement in him as he just ran home. And, that day had started his new trend. Nothing like your first time. He thought to himself as the bus halted just passed of the division between rich and middle class. He walked out, making himself seem as innocent as possible.
Here we go. He thought to himself as he walked down the blocks. The buildings all looked familiar to him, so much so that he could point out which changed their drapes and which didn't. And, surprisingly enough, these rich fucks changed their drapes often. Or well their maids did; god forbid they do such a belittling job.
A scowl was on his face as he looked down the blocks until stopping at a house he hadn't entered yet. It was a big white house with a wide yard and a few little sculptures of various Greek men and women. It looked like a cliché rich person's house and he almost wanted to let out a gag at it or maybe piss on them. He just wanted to wreck it but he knew smashing shit would cause attention which he did not need. So instead he looked around, making sure everything was silent before quickly going around the house.
Luckily for him there was no gate but that didn't mean they didn't have some alarm. Dean placed his hands on a window, slowly opening it as he bit his lip. He needed to be as quite as possible. These fucking alarms were so fucking sensitive now and he liked not being in jail. He got the window just enough for him to squeeze through. He slid in slowly, finding his footing before sliding his whole body in.
"Like a fucking pro." He muttered to himself. Now to disarm the alarm. He thought as he quickly made his way to the front there. From his experience he noticed that all alarms seemed to be near the front door or right next to it; lucky for him this one was right there.
He fished into his pocket and took out a small wrench, unscrewing the cover of the alarm system and exposing all the wiring within. Sliding the wrench into his pocket he fished out a Swiss army knife and used the knife to cut through as many wires as he could. He never knew which one to cut but he knew one of them would turn off something.
"Fucking cake walk." He muttered as he quickly screwed the cover back on. Now all he needed was to find a few valuables and then he could head out. Dean loved it when his work was easy.
Dean was starting to hum a soft tune when he heard a thud behind him. He turned around swiftly becoming face to face with a girl. It was moderately dark but he could just make out two toned hair.
A/N: Update woo! haha. I really wanted to get this one out but I was so busy and I'm working on some requests too and essays and I have a test and just loads of work man, loads of work! But! I got this one done, woo! haha. I hopes you enjoyed this. Please review?
