Mable: Hey there! Back with the next chapter! Though before I do, I got a guest question about 27's Fury and I and how we know each other. Truth is, we're really good friends! Beyond just the computer realm too, real life buds. 83 So, yeah, we're close enough to have plenty of blackmail fuel on one another. XD Which is always the mark of a good friendship, isn't it?
Anyway, I shall continue with the chapter, as it is already a day overdue! Enjoy!
Almost Feels Like Home
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There was an abandoned motel off the highway right out of the city limits of Hurricane. The motel was nothing exceptional; a two-story building collapsing in on itself, with multiple doors and an empty parking lot. Many years ago, it had been a moderate success and received visitors off the highway, but it eventually faced competition within the city limits. People were more willing to drive the extra few miles and be in the city than stopping on the side of the road. Thus, the motel was eventually closed and put up for sale. The sign was still mounted on the outside of the management office's window, but there didn't look to be any takers. The building then started to fall into disrepair.
This would be the last place that anyone would go unless they had something to hide. If the speed of the white van pulling into the parking lot was any indication, the passengers were already on the run. The van drove through the parking lot before circling the building and stopping behind it in the unkept grass.
The man in the passenger seat was known as Doug. While many features weren't visible under his dark clothing, his voice alone indicated that he was the oldest of the three. "What are we stopping here for? We're only twenty minutes away from the house. You can drive twenty more minutes," he pointed out in irritation.
The driver, a slightly younger man named Roger, wasn't even phased. "If someone recognized the van, then there's going to be cops out on patrol. They could already have the whole highway blocked off down there. We'll just lay low for a couple of hours and drive away when morning comes," Roger suggested.
Doug made a huffy noise like a scoff and dug into his pocket. "Because they aren't going to see us at sunrise. We should be driving in the dark," he added in. He pulled out the pill bottle and tried to read the wording on it in the low light. He then started to open it.
"Then we'll leave before sun-up. Whatever… You're not actually thinking of taking those, are you?" the driver asked as he parked the van. He sounded just as disappointed as the other had in them stopping. "You could make a small fortune off one of those alone and you're just going to take them while we're still in the middle of this."
"I'm just going to take the edge off. That's all this stuff does anyway," the older argued. "If you want to risk your life peddling pills to druggies on the side of the road, then be my guest, but this is the only thing I'm going to get out of them."
"I don't want to be that person, but I don't know, there's just something stupid about taking random pills," the third man, Wayne, added in. Wayne easily disappeared into the background when his two companions were conversing, and that wasn't just because he was cramped in the back with their stash. Not only the TV from tonight, but things that hadn't yet been dumped off were shoved into the back of a van. In hindsight, this was probably not the smartest decision.
Though in hindsight, none of the three intended to get to the point where they would get caught. Which was why they were now parked outside the back of a hotel with few ideas.
"Shut up," Doug tiredly dismissed. "We're at least going to go in and see if there's still furniture inside. I'm not sitting out here for hours on end."
"That was the plan," Roger agreed. He fixed his hood and removed his gloves so that he looked less suspicious. So if anyone saw him, he could claim that they were just exploring the hotel. They would look less guilty that way. "I'm going to go check the office and see if there's any keys leftover. I'd rather hang out in a room I can lock."
"I'll go with you," Wayne volunteered and followed out of the door on the side of the van. The third man only sat there for a few seconds before returning the bottle to his pocket and stepped out.
All three of the men walked through the scraggly grass around the back of the hotel. It was so dark that they could barely see, but none of them seemed willing to bring up turning on a flashlight. Just in case someone was still here. They circled around the building and to the front office, where Doug let himself in first. The front door was unlocked, and the office was largely barren. There was a chair, some old pamphlets, some trash, and a good amount of dust, but no indication that anyone was there. A flick of the light switch showed that there wasn't any electricity either.
However, there were a few keys hanging from the hook rack behind the desk. Doug took the only one left from the second floor and tossed one from the lower floor back to Roger, who looked at it in confusion.
"I didn't think we were planning on getting different rooms," the man pointed out.
"If I have to spend three hours stuck in a hotel room with you two, I'm going to blow my brains out," Doug said with the upmost confidence. "I'll be up in fourteen sleeping. Come get me when we're leaving."
"What if there isn't a bed?" Wayne asked matter-of-factly. The older man gave him a pointed look.
"Then I'll sleep in the bathtub," he sarcastically muttered. He then stepped out and headed to the stairs lined up beside the front office. Roger made a waving motion after him.
"Forget him. He's just ticked off that we wasted our night on a TV. We're only going to get ten bucks for that thing at max. He might as well keep the damn thing, unless you want it." He looked to Wayne, who gave a noncommittal shrug, seemingly uninterested. "Guess we're taking the one at the end. We'll get the cooler out of the van when we get down there." The cooler was small and had only a couple of cans in it, but it would give them something to do. Besides, he got parched after close calls, and his dried-out mouth wouldn't be comfortable staying like this for the next few hours.
The two men walked to the end of the line of rooms and let themselves into the room. It still had a stripped bed in it, a chair with a broken back, and a table with an excessive amount of writing scratches onto it. It wasn't much but enough if they just intended to sit there and wait out the night.
"We could've wheeled the TV in and used it right now if the power was on. That probably would've been the most use we got out of it," Roger pointed out as he circled around the hotel. His souring mood was cut short as he caught sight of the van and came to an abrupt stop. Even in the darkness he realized that the back doors were wide open. "I hope you forgot to close those on the way out and we weren't just driving with them open."
Wayne looked confused and Roger pointed to the van. "What? No! It would've been a wind tunnel back there if they were open, and I came out the side. You didn't go into the back for anything?"
"No… Doug," Roger decided with a huff. "Doug was the last one out. He must've gone in the back for something and left it open. And here he is acting like we're the problem." The man shook his head and closed the doors again.
Meanwhile, Doug himself had found and unlocked the door to room fourteen. He opened it to find it largely empty, but there was a bed with a thin, dusty sheet halfway on it and a cleaner, fitted sheet peeking out underneath. That wasn't saying much; the bed would still be disgusting to sleep on. He was going to need one of those pills to help him relax. He pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket, twisted it open, and dropped one of the pills into his hand. Then he popped it in his mouth. What he didn't expect was how dry and chalky it was, sticking to his tongue and refusing to cooperate.
He tried to swallow it quickly and it got stuck in the back of her throat, causing him to choke and sputter. He got himself into the small bathroom quickly. It was a dingy one, with crust tiles and a brown stained bathtub. There was a large hole busted in the wall beside the toilet and almost looked to lead right into the next bathroom. The sink was also grimy and the mirror above it had an orange tinge. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have even considered standing in it, but he was still choked up.
Doug turned the faucet and a gush of foggy water poured out. He decided right away that he didn't want the water anywhere near him mouth and instead coughed a few more times to try and dislodge the pill. After more choking, the pill finally came out into the sink, now partially dissolved into a thick, white sludge. It was soon washed down the drain by the water, which was starting to clear out.
The man let out a disgusted noise and spat into the sink, then rinsed his mouth out with the now cleaner looking water. He looked at the bottle one more time before nearly slamming it down on the counter in frustration. Forget trying to take those again. If Roger wanted them then he could have them. Any frustration was cut off as Doug straightened and glanced into the dirtied mirror.
Something moved behind him.
It was so quick that he would've missed it if he hadn't been staring. He turned back and looked towards the darkened bedroom but saw nothing. "Wayne?" he called as he stepped out and looked around. There was nobody there.
It was late, so he blamed the blurry movement as a trick of his vision. He still made sure to shut the hotel room door but didn't feel comfortable enough to lock himself inside. Then he approached the bed and sat down on the foot of it. He slid off his boots and then laid back on the bed. It smelled like stagnation; like the smell of a stuffy attic. The bed squeaked under his weight as he moved to get comfortable.
Then something squeaked even when he wasn't moving. Doug's eyes shot back open and he listened closer. A scuffle and another squeak came from under the bed and his eyes widened. His mind went back to the hole in the bathroom, then raced to rats, mice, or opossums. Something infesting the hotel and currently under the bed. He needed to get his boots back on and sat upright on the end of the bed.
And something grabbed him around the ankles.
It yanked his legs so sharply that he was thrown forward onto the dirty floor. Within seconds, something was trying to pull him under the tight squeeze of the bed. He tried to scream as coldness clamped over his mouth.
…
It was only once Roger was cracking open a can of coke- unwilling to risk intoxication when the cops could appear at any minute- that he remembered the pills. With a huff, he set the soda down on the table. "I've got to go get those pills off Doug. I don't want him taking them," he announced as he stood and headed to the open door. "Just don't drink too many of those." Wayne lowered his drink and looked at it in confusion, then at the cooler that only had three drinks in it. Before there could be any further comments, Roger stepped out of the room and headed to the upper floor.
He knocked on the hotel door twice and received no answer, so he went ahead with letting himself in. Even in the shadowed room he could see the bed and the lump in it that resembled Doug's form. He had what looked like a dirty and torn fitted sheet draped over him entirely, and it was almost amusing. Almost, but not quiet, and Roger looked around before happening to glance into the bathroom and seeing the pill bottle on the sink. With a small sigh he headed over and grabbed it, wondering how many of them Doug had to have taken to be out like a light. Then he headed to the door.
Only to stop when he heard something strange. It sounded like a thump from the wall and he looked across from the bed to see a cracked closet. He waited a few moments and heard another thump. Uneasy, he backed towards the bed.
"Doug," he whispered to the man on the bed. "Doug, get up. There's something in the closet." The sheet shifted slightly, and he heard a breathy sort of snore. At that point he gave up on him being any kind of help.
Another light bump from the closet caught his attention. It sounded so small and innocent that he guessed it had to be a small animal of some kind. He took a step closer, ignoring the squeaking of movement from the bed, and closed in on the closet. The smarter thing would've been to just take the pills and leave, but something coaxed him to the closet. Something about the noises drew him in and he reached out for the door.
"If I open this up and it's full of rats, then screw the police, we're leaving now," he remarked to himself. He almost snickered at the thought as he opened the door.
But what he had heard moving was not a rat, nor was it any animal at all. Instead, Roger looked down at a very human shaped object wrapped up in a sheet. The sheet had been cocooned around it, holding its legs bent and its arms to its back. It was tied with strips around the eyes and mouth, as though blinding and silencing the body. The only opening was a single tear at the nose. The man stared down in absolute horror and for a split second he wondered if they had somehow stumbled upon some serial killer's stash of victims. It wasn't until it shifted, struggling against the binds, that he realized it was Doug.
Doug hadn't been in the bed, he was tied and bound in the closet. That hadn't been Doug.
And whatever it was that had been under the sheet was now standing from the bed behind him.
Without giving whoever it was long enough to attack, Roger pulled out his handgun and turned on it. It was a small thing only brought along for intimidation, but it was loaded, and its weight was security in his hand. Or it was, until he caught sight of the tall creature standing beside the bed. It looked human in shape, but he knew it wasn't, and in an instant, it darted into the bathroom. Roger tried to shoot after it without remembering to turn off the safety, and by time the gun was ready to fire the creature had already vanished. The man through himself to the wall beside the door and slid along it towards the bathroom.
There was the sound of mechanical shifting and squeaking as he approached. All he caught visually was a glimpse of what looked like tangled wires disappearing into the hole beside the toilet. He was in a panic and inched in closer to look. He crouched down and looked through the hole, able to get a clear- though dark- view inside the other bathroom. He leaned in, gun raised towards the hole, and peered into the darkness.
"What's going on?"
Roger jumped at the voice and shot into the darkness. Though it soon became clear who the voice belonged to and he looked back towards the door. "Wayne, goddammit-!"
As soon as he turned his head, something reached out of the hole, grabbed him by the wrists, and yanked his arms into the darkness. It felt like metal wrapping and tightening around his hands as it tried to drag him in. Roger squeezed the trigger and fired again, but missed whatever target was there, unable to aim with his head and shoulder shoved into the wall above the hole. The gun was forcibly turned before dozens of sharp needles dug into his hand. He yelled in pain.
"Wayne! Wayne do something!" But the other man couldn't do anything but watch in horror as a mass of wires reached out, wrapped around the man, and drug him through the wall and into the hole. The legs and feet disappeared into the hole and a hideous scream could be heard, along with a staticky noise that sounded unsettlingly like electrocution.
Wayne finally did something, but that was turning and running out of the room. The man raced down the steps, circled the motel, sprinted through the grass, and darted to the sanctuary of the van. He threw himself into the driver's seat and began to search for the keys, hoping that Roger had left them behind. This hope was quickly dashed as he couldn't find them. Without skipping a beat, he burst out of the door and started to sprint around the motel again. He had to get to the highway, and he didn't even care if he was caught by the cops.
He was halfway to the deserted highway when he heard rapid footsteps crunching down the gravel road behind him. Wayne began to swear and sweat profusely as he tried to run faster, hearing the creature rushing in. It was too fast for him and he knew he wouldn't get away, even when he could see the highway. All at once he was hit in the back by a heavy weight and hit the ground heavily. The heavy wires held him into the dirt and suppressed any attempt to escape. He could hear the whirring and squeaking of metal in his ears.
Wayne tried to fight back and thrashed under the creature. He turned his head to see it, but had his face roughly shoved back into the dirt.
"Don't look,"a human-like voice murmured from behind. It then began to chuckle lowly, with its voice growing steadily deeper until it was something warped and unholy. "Ha ha. Psycho." That was the only thing Wayne heard before wires began to slide over his eyes and mouth.
…
"911, what's your emergency?"
"Hey, I'm parked beside the highway at the… Canyon Motel? The closed down motel outside of Hurricane. I was driving by and I saw some people fighting in the parking lot. I think something's going on down there."
"How many people did you see fighting? Are they still out there?"
"No, they went inside, but I think they're still fighting in there. Something seems really fishy about it though. They're all dressed in dark clothes- looks like a gang or something. Some of them left a couple of minutes ago in a truck."
"How many men did you see leave?"
"Maybe… Five? There's three still in the hotel, but I'm not going in there."
"No, Sir. Stay where you are until the police arrive. Did anyone look like they needed medical attention?"
"There was this one guy- I don't know. Might be a good idea. I though I heard some gunshots coming out of there."
"Alright. They will be there in a few minutes. I just need you to sit tight for me. Can I get your name?"
"…Hold on a second." With that, the phone was set down and left hanging inside the payphone. As quietly as he could, the caller slipped back to the street and easily lifted a manhole cover before slinking underneath it. The sewers were cold and unwelcoming, but safe in comparison to the street above. This section of them was largely unfamiliar and he had to rely on an obscene amount of guessing to make his way across town. He was entirely alone, with not even a single rat found in his path.
It was almost morning when he finally climbed back out of the sewer and started the trek behind a few houses, passing through backyards and a park before arriving at the correct fence. He climbed over easily and approached the back of the house. In a few short seconds he had lifted himself, slid through the open window, and lowered into the house. He shut the window behind him and slowly approached the door. Every motion sounded too loud, especially as his wires squeaked uncomfortably from the dust that had settled in between them. He would need a thorough cleaning, which he would do first thing.
He stepped out of the office and took a couple of careful steps behind the couch before arriving at the garage door. He reached for the doorknob.
"Ennard?"
And there was Scott, sitting at the table in the kitchen and looking out at him. He had been waiting for him. He knew what he did. Ennard quickly tightened his wires, slipped one of his arms discreetly behind his back, and steadied his voice.
"Oh, uh, hey there Scott!... I didn't think you'd still be up. That was- yeah- one heck of a surprise, wasn't it?" Ennard began. He put on more of a show. "I was just sitting there in the office and suddenly- Surprise!- there goes the front door! I can't believe they took the TV and the VCR, and whatever was in the VCR. I hope it wasn't anything good." Scott was watching him with this strange look. It almost looked like fear; he was probably shaken. "I'm… I'm sorry I took off on ya… You know I'd never let anyone hurt ya, but I sort of panicked. Had to get out of the house."
"Where did you go?" Scott asked shakily. He looked up at the clock. "For… For four hours?"
"Just over the fence and a little ways that way," Ennard remarked, gesturing with his free hand. "Dropped down into the sewers for a while, so I really need to get cleaned off before one of the cats starts rubbing up on me-." He was trying to escape into the garage. Scott didn't let him go.
"I was really worried about you. I- No- I mean, I was more worried about you getting seen by someone then you getting hurt. I knew you would've fought back, I just-…" He noticed the nervous twitching and through that saw the hidden arm. "What's in your hand?" he asked. There was a long period of silence. "Ennard, what's in your hand?" Scott asked again. This time he was more insistent and borderline panicked.
"Easy, easy! Ha ha, don't get so jumpy! Nothing much…~" Ennard stepped over to the table and looked down at Scott with both hands playfully behind his back. Then he presented one of Scott's medicine bottles. "Ta-da! I found this out there. One of those weird guys dropped it. Lucky, huh?" He handed it over eagerly.
But Scott took one look at the bottle and knew it was the one that the men took with them, and he knew it was very unlikely that they had dropped it out front. They hadn't even left in too much of a hurry. This confirmed his worst fears and he closed his fingers tightly around it, slowly drawing his eyes up to the clown.
"Ennard…" That tone enough almost sent chills through the amalgam's wires. "I want you to be honest with me, please… Did you go after them?" No amount of pretending would convince the man. He had to be honest, even knowing the consequences that it would bring. A long moment of silence followed and then he spoke.
"Yes." Immediately Scott dropped his head into his free hand. "But- Scottie, no! It's okay! Nobody saw me and it's not like anyone'sgonna believe those three!" Ennard said with an anxious chuckle. The human shook his head lightly into his hand, almost in disbelief. "I was really careful, I promise! Nobody's gonna know! And I got- I got your medicine back, right? You need that! You were shaking so bad earlier, like a leaf, like you didn't take it." He was becoming more desperate to somehow ease the situation, and to fix what he had unintentionally broken. "It's fine! It's really okay-!"
"Why?" Scott interrupted. It was a quiet question, muffled by him rubbing his face. He set down- nearly slammed down- the pill bottle and used the other hand to rub his face as well. "Why would you do that…?"
"I just- I couldn't just- Scott, they broke into our house! They tore up the place, they stole our stuff- look at it!" He gestured out towards the living room. "And you- wedon't deserve to put up with it! They took your medicine for Freddy's sake! How can I put up with that?! How can I stand aside and let them tear down everything we got after everything we've been through?" He was becoming more worked up at the thought, and Scott began to have horrible growing suspicions. "I was protecting us! You, me, our cats, out home, our life! That was all-!"
"Ennard, did you kill them?!" Scott suddenly asked as he looked back up again. That firm look, that dread and suspicion, left Ennard almost frozen. Though it was the question itself that left an impact.
"Did I… Kill them?" the animatronic asked back. It was almost as though he was more upset that Ennard could've done something to the robbers than the robbers breaking in, or Ennard almost getting caught. As though he really believed that the amalgam would go on a killing spree… Or maybe he did think that. All at once, Ennard's nervous desperation was switched out for something else as he grew still and tense.
"No, Scott. I didn't kill them," he said with surprising coldness. "Hard as it is to believe, but I'm not some sort of crazed psychopath that goes around killing people. Never even thought about it. Even when bullets were flying by my head."
Scott's eyes widened at that final comment and his concern quickly switched targets. "They… They shot at you? They had a gun?" He looked over the animatronic and saw only dust and dirt scuffing his wires. "But you weren't hit, right?"
"Oh, don't be so worried!" Ennard said with fake bubbly tone. "After all, it doesn't matter, right? I can just do a little welding, eat some wires, and put myself all back together!" His voice dropped immediately as his fists tightened. "Because I'm just a machine. I'm just a bundle of wires, not something precious like a human."
The disapproval melted off Scott's face as he realized what Ennard was thinking. "Ennard, that's not what I'm saying! You know what I'm saying, and you know why I'm worried!"
"Yeah, you're worried the evil child-eating, human-murdering clown you keep in your house is going to go on a rampage and kill everyone! Especially those poor, innocent men just trying to make a living off your stuff!" Ennard said mockingly. Though he was feeling anything but humorous. He was boiling on the inside at the thought alone. "But I'm glad I went over there, because now I got to see first-hand what real humans are like! Really opened up my eyes!"
"Ennard, I'm not scared because you're an animatronic! And I'm not- I'm not siding with them either! They broke into my house! If anything, I want them to get caught, but I- you just don't- you do things without even talking to me about them! You don't warn me when you leave, you don't tell me where you go, you just go out the window and do it!" Scott accused. He stood abruptly from his chair and gestured to the kitchen window, which was usually Ennard's means of leaving the house. He was just as frustrated as the clown. "And that- that has nothing to do with you being an animatronic! I don't care that you're an animatronic!"
"It just felt so good to talk to real people again."
Scott was taken aback by his own voice being mimicked back to him. It took him a minute to even remember saying it. "That wasn't what I meant-."
"I go and watch people, but I can't be a part of them. You know what I mean."
"Ennard, you know that wasn't what I meant!" It was then that he had a realization. "That's why you were upset. You thought I meant… Ennard, no, you know I don't think that." He started to step around the table and Ennard stepped back.
"I thought- ha- I really thought maybe I got it all wrong. "Scott, no, Scott wouldn't mean that! Scott understands, Scott's been around long enough to know how it works, Scott really, really gets it!" But you don't get it, do you? You still just think I'm some sort of crazed monster! I thought I meant more than just this non-human thing you keep in your house to replace real humans!" He turned away and tossed his arms into the air with exasperation. "Well great! Now that we've cleared that up, maybe I should just head on over to the warehouse where I belong! Then you can move in Dawn, the real human, have a bunch of little kids, who I'm not safe with, and live like a real person!"
"Ennard…" At this point, Scott didn't know what to say. All of it was pouring out at once and trying to stop it was like trying to stop a flood with a bucket; it was going to sweep them both under. So, he stayed silent as he tried to think of something he could present as evidence to reassure Ennard that it wasn't how it sounded. There was a breathy and distressed sort of sigh from the animatronic.
"And you know what's the worst thing? It's kind of funny…" Ennard started quietly. His voice fell as he came to a stop beside the garage door. He could remember when he used to call through this door, when he had been kept in the garage, and it felt so distant to now. Back then everything was a means to get out of the room, but now it was like he never left it. "I feel… So much for you. It hurts, Scott. I feel too much… But you're never going to really believe that I can feel anything." His voice began to degrade. "You're always g-going to th-think tha-at I'm empty."
Scott stepped closer and reached for him.
"That I'm like him."
Scott stopped abruptly in his tracks at the comment. He didn't even have to question it to know that Ennard meant William. The comparison seemed to come out of thin air.
"I'm not like him. I'm not him. I'm not human." In a jarring moment, Ennard's voice returned to the feign Funtime Freddy's one that he was usually using. With it, the despair seemed to quickly switch back out with frustration, or something like it. He stepped away and headed to the front door. "I'm leaving."
"What?" Scott nearly choked. "Where are you going?!"
"I don't know! It's not like it's anything new! You said it yourself: I don't think before I do things- you should be used to this!" Ennard unlocked the front door and slipped out before Scott could grab for him.
The Phone Guy rushed to the door and looked out in time to see Ennard sprint across the street- much faster than Scott ever anticipated- and disappear between the houses across from his. "Ennard!" he called after him, but the clown didn't even look back.
Once again, the night stubbornly refused to end. The ordeal still wasn't over.
Not one person. Not one of the calls she had made had gotten her any closer to her goal. Nobody was willing to drive her to the old pizzeria.
Baby was at the end of her rope. As easy as it was to just say she was willing to leave on her own, it would be insane just to try to cross town on foot. Not only would she put herself at risk, but it would then be almost impossible to bring the parts back. Working on herself in an abandoned building would just have her end up in the same position as now. Something would go wrong, and she would come out looking like a mess. At least Charlie hadn't revoked her offer to help fix her, so Baby would get that degree of help if she could just figure out how she would get ahold of the parts needed for it.
It didn't help that the humans with cars were all stuck in the tight grips of their animatronic companions. The Puppet was bad enough but talking to the nervous, blonde one and hearing Foxy in the background was downright embarrassing. What had they done to earn what Baby couldn't? Maybe it was a matter of weakness. Yes, she was just too strong and resistant to be contained by a human. Fritz wouldn't have even been able to handle her. She was glad she didn't have him clinging on anymore, because he was just holding her back. It didn't even hurt that much anymore.
The clown was brought out of her thoughts by a banging noise echoing across the warehouse. Her head raised immediately and tilted as she took in the sound and tried to figure out what it was. It was followed soon afterwards by a bumping on the wall and she rolled out of the office and into the warehouse. Her gaze traced along the aisles as she slowly rolled down them. It was definitely coming from the door; someone was trying to force their way through. Perhaps it was someone trying to break in. Maybe a curious detective or a would-be thief looking for a quick payday. Baby's claw tightened at the thought and she waited patiently for whoever it was to come through.
But whatever she expected couldn't prepare her for what actually came barreling through the door.
With the door finally forced open, in stumbled in none other than Ennard, who would always be the last person Baby wanted to see. She found that instead of her typical aggression she felt something more like exhaustion in seeing him. Baby was simply not in the mood to deal with his incompetence. Especially now that he broke down the door which she would no doubt be blamed for.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her weary tone coming through. She expected that he had come to tell her off for calling Scott earlier and was more than prepared to handle it. She realized quickly that something was amiss. He slammed the broken door shut behind him and turned to stare her down. For only a moment he almost looked intimidating. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he asked her a single question.
"You still need a ride?"
Mable: Because the only thing worse than Baby's impulsiveness and Ennard's recklessness is the terrifying thought of what would happen if they worked together.