- IX -
(May 2277)
Part 2
"All right, ladies and gentlemen, we've got a special segment for you this evening," Freddie's amplified voice announced over the speakers. "If you'd turn your attention to the projector screen…"
Butch skidded to a halt once he raced through the door of the storage room, cursing the number of people idly blocking his path to the disc jockey booth. His shouts to Freddie went unheard as the music continued to drown him out, and from where he stood, he saw the chip go into the projector drive. Fueled by desperation, he resorted to elbowing his way through the dense crowd, needing to reach Freddie and stop the upload. Unfortunately, he made it three meters in before the tide of bodies gathering in front of the screen ended up pushing him back to where he started.
Goddammit, he fumed, pulse roaring in his ears.
The seconds ticked away as his gaze roved over the dark atrium, searching for a different route. Short of leaping up and running across the tabletops, there was no way out of his corner. He glanced once more at the masses and hesitated. Out of time and out of options, his body made the decision for him. He hopped up onto the first table, sending silverware and plates crashing to the floor as he steadied himself and prepared to charge over and tackle Freddie. As soon as he made to jump to the next table, however, rolling murmurs suddenly swept across the room. Muscles tensing, he turned and blanched at the flickering projection.
Too late.
The words Brought to you by the Tunnel Snakes had appeared on the screen, confusing him for a brief moment. But when the sequence changed, the sight knocked the breath from his lungs. The slideshow that followed brought on collective gasps and jeers from the audience, and his blood ran cold at its progression. Knowing what had been coming did nothing to lessen the impact.
Everything he'd done, everything he and Ivy had worked so hard for, had been in vain. In the worst manner possible, her fears had become reality.
Pictures of Ivy, dozens upon dozens, flashed across the screen in quick succession. Ranging from provocative to vulgar in nature, they featured her in various suggestive poses by herself, clothed and unclothed. Some depicted shots of her taking and injecting herself with various chems, from Jet, to Med-X, to Buffout, and even Psycho. The images themselves were appalling enough to behold, but a terrible sensation crawled under his skin at the evidence of her transformation to the frail husk he'd encountered the night she had intended to overdose.
Butch tore his eyes away after a while, unable to watch her bleak and tortured countenance in the pictures. The stabbing in his chest stemmed not only from his utter hatred toward Stevie, but also from the knowledge that he himself was partially responsible for what had led to this. The music abruptly cut off, leaving the space buzzing with the audience's uproar. Still standing on the table, he rotated toward the direction he had come from and felt his insides wrench further at the look on Ivy's face as she trembled in the doorway of the storage room.
Features frozen in horror and anguish, she gripped the doorframe for support. Sheer mortification emanated from her posture, and even in the distance, in the dimness, he saw something break down within her. Nails digging into his palms, he whirled around to glare furiously at Freddie.
"Turn the fucking projector off!" he screamed, enraged beyond civility.
"I'm trying!" Freddie yelled back in a high pitch. "It won't stop! Like it's been messed with or something!"
A sudden, shrill blaring pierced the air, eliciting alarmed cries as people clapped their hands over their ears. It ceased when the ceiling lights promptly came on, almost blinding everyone in the unexpected brightness. Butch staggered off the table and squinted as he made his way toward Ivy, who was still paralyzed and hyperventilating at the doorway. He wrapped a protective arm around her, blinking away the last of the spots in his vision as he attempted to locate an alternate exit he could sneak her through.
"What is the meaning of this?" came the Overseer's outraged voice through the speakers, the sound echoing around the atrium. He had elevated himself to a stage opposite from the disc jockey booth, clad in his finest attire and his harshest expression. Bringing the microphone to his mouth again, he shouted, "I demand an explanation at once! Mr. Gomez!"
As a bewildered Freddie stuttered out an answer claiming no knowledge of the situation, Butch pulled Ivy back into the storage room, where she clutched at his suit jacket and buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He held her close and grimaced as the crowd erupted into riotous chatter, a reaction that promised merciless backlash. Ivy would likely need serious psychological counseling after this, and if Dr. Ashburn wasn't already out there witnessing the degradation of his daughter, word would reach him very soon.
It took Butch a few seconds to notice Ivy murmuring something between her weeping hiccups. Peering down at her, he asked, "Wait, what're you sayin'?"
"…Wrong angles," she whispered. "Those pictures were all the wrong angles."
He regarded her in puzzlement as the volume rose outside, and only when he dared to glimpse the projector screen again did he realize what she meant. It was true; the angles of the pictures were off, as if the device taking them had been set too high or too low to the side. Furthermore, her focus was clearly aimed at something else in each shot, something off-camera. They had succeeded in acquiring all the blackmail footage she had kept track of, but after seeing this, Butch could only conclude one thing.
There had been a second camera she hadn't known about.
"Sir, if I may say something," another individual spoke up. "I have some information that could shed some light on this fiasco."
Butch clenched his teeth as a new wave of animosity washed over him. You fucker. You are dead. You are so dead.
"Out with it, Officer Mack," the Overseer barked.
"It seems the Tunnel Snakes have managed to pull off their vilest prank yet," Stevie proclaimed, his words broadcasted through another microphone. "As seen by the opening slide of this… inappropriate spotlight on their newest member."
Ivy stiffened as Butch's jaw dropped in disbelief.
No fuckin' way… he's even framin' us for it?!
"What the hell!" Freddie shouted, voicing Butch's thoughts. "The Tunnel Snakes had nothing to do with this! You're the one who gave me that data chip and told me to load it into the projector!"
Stevie scoffed. "Mr. Gomez, I believe you've caused enough of a stir tonight without throwing around accusations."
"Now, wait just a minute," someone else, a man, retorted. "My son wouldn't be involved in something like this. Back off, Mack."
"Officer Gomez, I understand your instinct to defend your son, but the facts and evidence I have are plain as day," Stevie returned. "And I'm sure if Chief Hannon were here, he would also have a few words to say about his son's association with this gang."
"I imagine you will be elaborating on this evidence, Officer Mack," the Overseer remarked sharply over Herman Gomez's further protests. "And someone hurry up and resolve these technical difficulties! I believe nothing has been left to the imagination regarding Ms. Ashburn."
Ivy fairly wilted in Butch's arms.
"Truly a shameful sight," Stevie added. "The Tunnel Snakes certainly have a lot to answer for."
Butch's temper ignited. That's it.
Gently prying Ivy away and moving her aside, he stomped toward the exit and emerged back onto the main floor as the crowd muttered amongst themselves. Immediately, he sought out and zoomed in on Stevie, who had taken over Freddie's station at the booth.
"You fucking liar!" Butch bellowed, effectively drawing all attention to himself. "Trying to pin these pictures on us when you were the one who took all of them to blackmail Ivy for years!"
A dam of emotion shattered, and everything came bursting forth; the anger, the resentment, and the burning need for the Vault citizens to know the truth. He squared himself in his position and jabbed a reproving finger in his nemesis's direction.
"Beating her, making her do chems, forcing her to sleep with you… and when she was underage, too!" Butch seethed, caught up in a full-blown tirade. "Then there's the little detail that you knocked her up and then pushed her down a flight of stairs after she lost the kid. You're a goddamn crazy scumbag who just outed himself to the Vault, and no way in hell are me and my gang gonna take the fall for your psycho ass!"
Stevie's black eyes narrowed amidst the spectator racket, and for a fleeting second, he appeared reminiscent of the devil himself. "I see the Tunnel Snake leader here is the loudest of all with the accusations. So I'm the one responsible for this exploitation of Ivy Ashburn?" A detestable sneer spread across his face. "Where's your proof, DeLoria?"
Butch's diatribe faltered and his mouth fell into a grim line at the unspoken challenge. He momentarily considered the possibility that his only shot at implicating Stevie may have gone up in flames along with the material he'd destroyed.
Jesus, why can't anything go right for once?
"Got nothing, huh?" inquired the security officer. "Well, why don't we ask the lady in question? Ms. Ashburn," he called, "I know you're hiding in that room back there. Could you come out, please?"
Nearly half a minute passed before a small figure leaned out of the storage room. Ivy gazed at the onlookers and flushed, looking terrified.
"If I'm guilty of these despicable actions as the Tunnel Snakes say, then why didn't you ever report me?" Stevie demanded, his intense stare penetrating her.
It was a trick question, and all three of them knew it. Ivy couldn't very well reveal that he had been holding the footage of the shooting range over her. She grew paler as Butch wracked his brain for a way out of this manipulative web Stevie had ensnared them in. The scheme was almost impressive in its intricacy, an agenda built on cruel intent and spite.
"No answer? Then let me reiterate," Stevie said, addressing everyone in the atrium. "This time, in their endless bids for attention, the Tunnel Snakes have gone too far."
"No," she piped up hoarsely. "The Tunnel Snakes aren't guilty."
"Damn right, we're not," Butch rumbled. "You're on borrowed time now, Mack."
"Hold on," a new voice chimed in.
Amata hiked up the skirt of her pink evening gown with one hand and joined her father on the stage. A frown marred her features as she grabbed the microphone from him and ignored his indignant command to return it.
"No one else is defending Ivy?" she snapped, glowering at the crowd. "We may not be on the best terms, but I know for a fact that she would never have consented to this demeaning photo shoot. All of you judging her right now need to look again. Do you see her face in the pictures? She obviously wasn't doing them of her own free will."
Butch blinked at Amata in surprise as she sent Ivy a gaze full of regret, apology, and support.
Well shit, didn't think Princess 101 would be the one to come to our defense…
Stevie flashed his eyes at her. "So you're saying the Tunnel Snakes are innocent in this matter?"
"No, I'm saying those boys are probably the ones who intimidated her into doing them," Amata responded.
…Never mind, she's still a bitch.
Stevie nodded slowly. "Yes… yes, that makes sense and lines up with the evidence I've collected. Why else would an intelligent medical intern like Ivy Ashburn join that gang of delinquents?"
The situation was horrible. Dismal. Everything was getting twisted to paint the Tunnel Snakes in an incriminating light. Stevie may have been a deranged lunatic, but he was a force to be reckoned with in his cunning and calculating aptitude. Butch wished he had known this before now, when Stevie was tearing him and his friends apart in front of the public.
Butch went to Ivy's side, glowering at Stevie across the way. "You wanna keep goin' with your bullshit, then let's take this somewhere else," he snarled. "Ivy's already fucking humiliated. She doesn't deserve to go through this in front of half the goddamn Vault."
"Actually," the Overseer cut in, snatching the microphone back from his daughter, "I am interested in hearing what Officer Mack has to say about your posse of troublemakers, Mr. DeLoria."
Butch nearly blew a gasket. Even the Overseer had taken Stevie's side. The injustice kindled his urge for violence, and he had to physically restrain himself from flying at one or the other of the two assholes in the vicinity. The spectators had gone silent as the slideshow continued on a loop in the background, though most attention was now directed at the man smirking next to the turntables.
"I've been working a case on suspicious Tunnel Snake activity for the past four months," Stevie explained, "along with an anonymous report of a missing camera."
The past four months… is that why he hasn't made a move about the blackmail material goin' missing until now?
The security officer dug into one pocket of his uniform trousers and produced a familiar device that had Butch's heart leaping in his throat.
"I recovered this today during several authorized searches of suspects' apartments. And as it so happens," Stevie went on, pointing at the projector screen, "every single one of those images has a time and make stamp on the bottom corner. If you look closely, they can be traced back to this camera model here."
Butch swore softly. It was the hidden camera he had installed in the generator room to capture all the footage of the shooting range. The one he had handed over to Stevie. And the one that had taken all those duplicate photos of Ivy.
By making the decision to give that camera to Stevie years ago, Butch had signed not only Ivy's social death warrant, but his own as well.
Karma sure was a vindictive bitch.
"And how's that thing supposed to relate to the Tunnel Snakes?" Freddie demanded from his demoted spot off the booth platform.
"You don't recognize it?" Stevie held up the camera and gestured to the opposite end of the room. "This belongs to one of your members. Paul Hannon, Jr."
Shit, Butch's mind yelped. Now even Paul's getting dragged into this.
Paul gaped at Stevie in confusion. "But… I never reported that camera missing."
"Well, it's awfully convenient that the report was anonymous. My investigation revealed intra-gang conflict among some of your members," Stevie replied. "In fact, my brother was the one who came forward to cite his misgivings about Tunnel Snake actions. He has also signed a written testimony verifying that this camera belongs to you."
A severe feeling of betrayal welled up inside Butch, and he snapped his head to Wally, who stood with the stubborn set of his jaw next to Paul.
You two-timing motherfucker…
"I said that I did recognize that camera as Paul's, but I didn't know anything about these pictures," Wally declared heatedly. "And I only talked because our leader has been acting strange for a long time now."
Butch shifted, poised to mow a path to his former friend and throttle him. Only Ivy's light touch on his arm stopped the rampage, but he practically foamed at the mouth as Wally spotted him and pinned him with a stern glare. In that instant, over a decade of friendship disintegrated before his eyes.
Blood was thicker than water. The Macks were sticking together.
"Speaking of the Tunnel Snake leader," Stevie started, walking over to the projector once a pair of technicians managed to stop the slideshow, "it turns out that this camera had been in his possession. I returned with a new warrant to his home after the initial search earlier today and found it in his quarters. So, one possible conclusion is that Mr. DeLoria may have stolen Mr. Hannon's camera and acted alone in creating these photos of Ms. Ashburn."
Butch's pulse raced as his temper skyrocketed. "That's another damn lie! You didn't find shit in my room because you're the one who's been holding onto that thing for two years!"
"Really? And how, pray tell, would I have come across this camera two years ago?" Stevie countered. "A camera that has been identified as a Tunnel Snake member's?"
Butch curled his hands into fists when he realized he had been backed into another corner. The camera had come into Stevie's possession because of Butch's shortsighted desire for revenge against Ivy. As bad as all Stevie's lies made him look, the truth would make him appear outright reprehensible.
"Fuck you," was all Butch could growl out through gritted teeth.
Stevie's grin radiated absolute smugness. "That's what I thought."
"Officer Mack," the Overseer interjected. "While you are presenting your case adequately, placing the blame solely on one individual will require more than clues and speculation."
Stevie inclined his head and removed the data chip from the projector, dropping it into a plastic evidence bag he produced from his pocket. Then, reaching into another pocket, he brought out a second data chip and raised it briefly before inserting it into the projector's drive.
"Of course, sir. I was carrying this on my way to the security office, but I believe it's relevant at this time," he stated. "As is encouraged of all members of the security force, I have my bedroom under surveillance 24/7 using a standard issue camcorder."
All of Butch's bodily processes went still.
"Mr. DeLoria already has a history of breaking and entering, as well as burglary." Stevie hit the playback on the projector, barely containing his glee. "Although I initially thought the matter too trivial to pursue legal action, he broke into my room to steal items I had confiscated as part of security regulations enforced last year. The footage you're about to see takes place on the date of July 13, 2276."
The display on the screen switched to a night vision video of Stevie's room. Butch's entire frame went rigid when he saw himself emerge from the wall vent. The atrium erupted in a hum of unanimous disapproval as his video image crept to the desk and picked the lock. The footage cut off right after he grabbed his items and hauled himself back into the vent, conveniently before the door opened. Butch's hackles rose at the accusatory gazes that swung his way, but he glanced to his side when Ivy's hand fell from his arm.
She was staring up at him, eyes wide with shock. "That day… my birthday last year…"
His heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he realized where this was going. Oh no…
"Tell me you were gone after that video," she said, her voice taking on a shaky note. "Tell me you didn't see anything that happened in the next hour."
He swallowed. This was it. The one thing he'd kept from her.
Just lie, man. Just tell her you got the shit you needed and went back through the vent, no problem.
Everyone else had gone quiet as they observed the tension that had formed between Ivy and Butch. She continued to peer up at him, hazel irises burning into his vision, probing, pleading. He began to fidget.
C'mon, tell her you don't know what the hell she's worried about. She doesn't need to know the truth.
But she read it in his eyes. "You were still in the vent? You just sat by and watched everything he did to me that day? You didn't try to stop him?" The tears returned, this time stemming from the devastating revelation. "That's how you learned my secret?"
Say no. Deny everything. If you're honest now, she'll ditch you.
The vertigo returned, but even as he braced himself on the adjacent wall with one arm, he defied the inner instinct that, up to this point, made him who he was.
Butch lowered his head and steeled himself. "I'm sorry," he rasped around the lump in his throat.
He couldn't lie to her. Not anymore, not ever again.
Ivy stepped away from him, the heartbreak etched all over her face. He tried to think of something, anything, to say that would save him and make it right, but he was out of excuses. She bit her lip and strode past him, straight through the crowd that parted for her as she hurried out of the premises without a backwards glance. Amata hopped down the stage stairs and ran after her, heels clicking loudly across the floor.
Butch tasted the bitterness of something close to despair as his world shut down around him. He sensed the leers pressing in on him from all sides, but he couldn't have cared less. All the progress he'd made with Ivy in the past few months, from the friendship they'd forged to the attraction they'd stopped denying, had been wiped out in one fell swoop.
He had lost her.
"Well, I think that just proves my point," Stevie remarked, sounding satisfied.
The Overseer cleared his throat. "In light of the information presented by Officer Mack, I believe the most appropriate course of action now is to bring Mr. Gomez, Mr. Hannon, and Mr. DeLoria to the detention center for further questioning. Security, apprehend them."
As soon as the first officer took out a set of handcuffs and moved toward Freddie, a switchblade shot past them and lodged into the wood of the platform. Startled yells rang out as Butch lowered his arm and slowly straightened from the throwing position. His menacing expression offered no room for reproach, and although he addressed the Overseer, he never took his sight off Stevie.
"Believe what you want about us, but if you're gonna take on the Tunnel Snakes, we won't go quietly," Butch growled. "This is my gang, my code, and I look after my own. You've already destroyed Ivy. You want Freddie and Paul, you go through me."
Stevie snickered at him with equal malice. "Your call, kid. Just know that the more you resist, the more painful it's going to be."
The atrium burst into action at once. All the onlookers rushed out of the way as half a dozen security personnel advanced on the Tunnel Snakes. Butch evaded the two that charged at him by leaping on the tables again and dashing across the tops, his movements and speed powered by dark rage. The suit jacket flapped behind him as he scooped up one of the large glass centerpieces and hurled it toward the officers chasing Paul. It shattered at their feet, forcing them to slow down while Paul flashed him a thumbs-up and bolted out through the exit. Freddie was faring better with his father standing in front of him, daring the officers he outranked to try and arrest his son.
Butch jumped off the last table and landed nearby, sprinting past them to pry the Toothpick from the booth platform as the Overseer hollered into the microphone for order. After ensuring Freddie would be all right, Butch vaulted onto the platform, wielding his switchblade as Stevie drew his baton. Mutual abhorrence crackled in the air between them, so strong that the feeling alone was almost tangible. Butch wanted nothing more than to plunge the blade of his weapon deep into Stevie's abdomen, and that was exactly what he planned to do.
A sudden electrical shock at his back denied him his reprisal. The Toothpick clattered to the floor as Butch went down with it, muscles convulsing. Incapacitated, he met Wally's grim stare as the latter switched off the Taser and nodded to Stevie. Butch rued his broken friendship with the Tunnel Snake traitor before several officers seized his arms and hauled him up to bind his wrists together.
The Vault may have been convinced that he was a criminal, but this wasn't over. Even as the Overseer ordered him dragged out, he refused to give up. In the midst of the chaotic environment, with his body twitching uncontrollably, his determination to retaliate never wavered.
For a man with nothing to lose, retribution was the only logical course of action.
The opportunity presented itself in the interrogation room an hour later. Butch sat alone beneath the spotlight, recovered from the effects of the Taser, but hands still cuffed. He fixed his stare on the table in front of him, thinking. Waiting. A fragile calmness had taken root, the same type that preceded a storm. He kept time and sanity by counting in the silence. Waiting, waiting…
Finally, the door opened to reveal Stevie, who walked in and locked it behind him, smirk in place.
"Hope you've learned your lesson, DeLoria," he began, sauntering over. "Didn't I say it? That you'd be sorry? So are you feeling sorry now?"
Butch glared up at him but bit his tongue, wary about blurting something else that could be used against him.
"Not so chatty now, huh? Even with all that trouble you gave me at the formal?" Stevie folded his arms over his chest. "You should've known that you'd never win. Not against me. And what was that about a code, anyway? Some moronic gang-related creed?"
A scorching rush of energy spread through Butch, gaining momentum as he neared the breaking point.
"By the way, just thought you should know I did you one favor. That hidden cam footage of the shooting range you gave me? Sloppy editing you did there. You're still in some of the shots, so I know you were in on the target practice," Stevie informed him. "Lucky for you, I'm not handing it to the Overseer since, well, you're basically screwed, anyway. The footage of you breaking into my room was fair game, though. I keep all my surveillance recordings around for occasions like this."
"Whatever," was Butch's succinct response. Just shut the hell up already.
"You can expect to be locked away for a long time from here on out," Stevie said, leaning closer and lowering his tone. "And you just leave Ivy to me. By the time you finish out your sentence, we'll have married and started a family, and she'll have forgotten all about the worthless punk who got what he deserved."
The idea of Ivy subjecting herself to holy matrimony with Stevie after all this was beyond absurd.
"Did you even know she was planning to kill herself because of you?" Butch spat.
A flicker of what might have been genuine alarm disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Stevie's gaze hardened. "Well, if we're talking preferences here, I'd rather her die than give her up to someone else. Too bad for you she didn't just do that, right?"
What. The. FUCK.
Limit reached. Butch snapped.
With a surge of adrenaline, he broke cleanly through the chain of his cuffs and shot to his feet, swinging a well-aimed punch at Stevie's face. The action caught the security officer off guard, and he had just enough time to wipe off his gloating expression before Butch's fist slammed into his cheekbone with such force that he went crashing into the nearby wall. Stevie grunted at the impact, shooting his assailant an incredulous look before dodging the next attack.
The older man stumbled backwards a few steps, swiping at the drop of blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth as he glowered at his opponent. Butch took the opportunity to shed his suit jacket and rip open the front of his dress shirt to get a better range of motion. The serpent pendant gleamed from around his neck. It had been a while, but he had built his physique on hand to hand combat, and he was ready to bring on the brawl.
Stevie sized him up, throwing off his protective vest in a wordless gesture that suggested he considered Butch a minimal threat. They circled each other in the confined space, waiting for an opening, a signal to hit or counter. Neither paid any heed to the incessant knocking on the locked door. Butch's heightened senses lent him more focus than he'd had in previous clashes. He felt it in his bones; the strength granted by sheer hatred and ire. This fight had been a long time coming, and he intended to come out on top.
He initiated the first strike.
Darting forward, Butch swung a quick uppercut toward the other man's jaw, which Stevie blocked with ease. He countered by shoving his elbow into Butch's ribs, the same set that had been kicked earlier that day. Butch winced, but ducked to avoid a second jab, his pain threshold currently so high that his speed never decreased as he swept out a leg to kick the back of Stevie's knees. The latter anticipated the move and hopped out of the way, delivering his own kick that grazed Butch in the chin.
Blood drawn, bruises forming, both men exchanged blow after blow as the round drew on. A solid right hook split Stevie's lip, and Butch took a heavy slug to the shoulder before parrying a second. Time sped in a flurry of concentrated punches and brutal vitality. Every hit he scored, he did so for Ivy and all she'd endured. The sound of his knuckles colliding over and over with Stevie's frame sent bolts of satisfaction through his limbs. Butch would have pummeled him until the other officers broke the door down, but Stevie managed to reverse one of his cross punches and shoved him hard.
An expletive cut through the heated room as Butch fell off balance and landed on his side. Stevie was on him in an instant, locking him in a chokehold. The pressure on his windpipe amped up his willpower, and he clutched at the arm cutting off his oxygen. Stevie may have overpowered him before, but Butch was operating on a completely different level now. Mentally, he had shut down, driven by the wish for vengeance and the urge to deal the justice owed to him. And Stevie's attempt to take him out only pissed him off even more.
Not this time, asshole.
He grabbed the serpent pendant in one hand and gouged its spines into Stevie's exposed arm, dragging it through and tearing into the skin. With a howl, the other man released him and rose as he clutched his bleeding limb. Butch followed up with an unrestrained wallop that sent Stevie careening into the metal table. His strength outmatched the older man's now, and with ruthless hands, he seized Stevie's head and slammed his skull into the sharp edge of the metal surface.
Stevie went slack at once. Butch dropped him and watched his motionless body crumple in a heap, the rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was still alive. The loud pounding and yells from the other side of the door continued to go ignored while Butch held onto the chair for stability as the room began to spin.
"How you like that, Mack? I wasn't sorry then, and I ain't sorry now," he slurred, the edges of his vision going black. "You'd better leave Ivy alone while I get this legal shitstorm sorted out. If you don't, first thing I'll do when I'm released is fucking kill you."
Breathing heavily, he wobbled on his feet as the adrenaline wore off and overexertion set in.
"Oh, and about my gang's creed. Tunnel Snakes rule. It's the serpent code, motherfucker."
And without further ceremony, he collapsed.
x-x-x-x-x
A/N: Sorry for the wait; it's been a very busy week and I kind of had to rush through this chapter. On the bright side, I finished drawing the cover! If you'd like to see the full resolution, I have it on my Deviant Art and linked it on my profile. And I just want to say thank you to everyone reading this story, from the regular reviewers to the silent readers! All of you give me the motivation to keep going. More to come soon!