Let's Make A Deal

Who: Eris and Everett
Where: The police station
When: Evening

Everett had a problem; what was one man supposed to do with so many guns? He'd done what he could around town, helping Kales and Dale, rounding people up, and checking the local businesses. But before long his mind had drifted to the matter of the now-empty police station, and more importantly what was in it. What was in it, exactly, was several shotguns and even more revolvers, handcuffs, batons, and ammunition. Everett had pried open the weapons lockers with a crowbar from the hardware store, piling weapon after weapon on a desk nearby. FInally he'd found a duffel, and though he'd already unloaded the guns and started packing some away to transport, he wasn't sure where he was even taking them.

His house could work, but it wouldn't look good at all for the only black man in town to start stockpiling weapons on the day the overseers all vanished. Still, taking some blame was better than leaving the guns here for someone less scrupulous to find and use, and Ev didn't mind people having a problem with him. Tucking a shotgun away, he raised the last from the deck, racking it once to make sure no shells came free and dry-firing it at a wall.

Well, she'd thought she'd have to break in. She didn't. And that left her thinking that she might not have anything left to choose from, in which case, that was going to be tricky. When she walked in, she was quiet, her drunk left a few hours ago, and she was left with a dull headache, but that was to be expected. Her medication didn't really mix well with it.

Following sounds, she ghosted up, then saw Everett. Her chest tightened, a weighted, sharp feeling settling in it, though she didn't say anything right away. She saw the guns piled on the table, and grabbed one up. The first sound she made was checking the chamber to see if it was loaded. "Evening, Captain."

Ev snapped around before her words even registered, the shotgun leveling off at chest height with the stock tucked against his shoulder. He stared down the barrel, loving the two sight-dots framing Eris on either side. "Stockard," he growled, slowly lowering the weapon. The desk was between them, the duffel of guns and ammo sitting next to the pile. Everett looked from the gun in Eris' hand to the bag of ammunition, then yanked it to the floor with a clatter, dragging it with the shotgun. "Gun's empty. Enjoy the paperweight, bitch."

"Now," she said, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "One might not think you having every gun in this town is that good an idea." she said, shaking her head. "In fact, I don't really think it's best. Now, you having a gun...might not be so much to protest. But why is it you feel you should have them and no one else in town should be able to defend themselves? Who made you judge on that?"

"Making an ass of yourself with all these assumptions," Ev rumbled, still gripping the shotgun like he might stock-club her, given the chance. Which was why he figured keeping the desk between them was a good plan. "You shouldn't go thinking that a black man with a gun is planning on causing trouble. For all you know, I'm rounding them up to turn over to Lina or someone else. And for the record? I'll arm myself with the silverware in my house before I arm you with a gun."

Eris rolled her eyes. "Playing the race card. Original. Had nothing to do with that, it just had to do with you being a self righteous psychotic." she said with a heavy sort of sigh. "Look. I need two. I need a handgun, and I need a shotgun. I need ammunition. Beyond that I honestly don't give a shit what you do with the rest of them. Bury them in the woods if you want."

Ev snorted, lowering his gun finally as a slow chuckle rolled over his shoulders. "Right. Let me bag that order up for you, miss. Paper or plastic?" He dropped the butt of the shotgun on the desk, leaning on it heavily. "You're in a town where a good hunk of people hate your guts, would be disappointed to find out you're alive, and you want weapons? I give you one shell and all of a sudden we have one case of you 'defending yourself'. Try asking instead of telling, Stockard. Try real hard to find a reason where I'd consider this."

"Fine." she said, and she leaned forward as well, gun on the desk. "I haven't done anything. I've been here, in this town, and I think I've been the very definition of 'low profile'. I haven't even gone on the journals to tell the people who don't know, that Kales is a murderer. That the good officer up the street tried to kill me, and managed, for a few minutes at least. I've done nothing but lay low. And one gun? Against the four of you? Please. I'm a good shot, I'm not superwoman. If I really wanted to cause havoc, I could have done it by now, but I haven't. Not with anyone. But as you've pointed out, there are a lot of people here who don't like me. Who don't want me to see another day. And I don't see why I can't at least be given a chance." She looked him in the eyes. "Even if your scenario came true, even if I went nuts, decided fuck it and to put a bullet to one of you--I'd still be taken down in no time. But again...I haven't done anything. And I don't plan to."

"So what's the gun for?" Ev demanded, taken back by her statement. Was she drunk or high? This wasn't exactly the woman he'd known, after all. "Low profile doesn't mean packing heat. It means keeping to yourself, keepign in touch with people. Maybe getting armed if trouble hits. So hell, what do you need two guns for? I'm listening here, Stockard. I'm not saying no, because as fucking strange as it is to say, you're making sense right now."

"Self defense. And I never said I planned on carrying them." she said. Basically, because she didn't. In fact, they weren't even going to be at her house. They were going to Brett's. "And keeping in touch? With who?" she asked honestly, giving a short, humorless little laugh as she stood straight. "Everyone I know wants me dead." Which was true. Except for Brett, who didnt' want her dead yet. "I want a handgun, and a box of bullets, and a shotgun with the same. That's it."

Ev raised the shotgun, letting it rest off of one shoulder with a finger curling lightly on the trigger. Sure, it was empty, but the feel was soothing. "First off, there is no 'four of us', wherever you pulled that shit from. I was okay with Kales, I was okay with Dave, Lina too. None of us wants to die here. That's my only connection to any of them. Difference between us and you is that we'll work together to make that happen, and you? Well, once upon a time you were only watching out for you."

He bent slowly, masking a grimace of stiff pain in his back. The weather here was murder on aging joints, that was for sure. "Second," he said as he grabbed the duffel of ammo and guns, standing tall, "If you want that Christmas list of yours, I've got some requests of my own. They're not too absurd, but you probably won't like them anyway."

"Whether or not you see yourself coming as a package deal, you all want me dead. So it's four against one from here." Eris said, because it was the truth. "Even if you did it, or one of them, you'd all cover for each other. Probably pat each other on the back. And I'm fully aware of it." It was just a truth-statement, wasn't meant to needle him, or rile him. She was dealing right now in absolutes, not twisting anything. It wouldn't get her anywhere. "What are the 'requests'?"

"One: you start keeping me in the goddamn loop once we're back online," Ev was quick to say, counting on a finger. "I meant what I said before, I'm not taking another shot at you. Every single one of us that gets out of this is one more person to help put a stop to it, to find the people twisting us all. I don't care if you turn me over to the cops, but until we get stateside? You knock or send me a note on the journals when something's up." His expression made it clear how wild he was about that, but Ev was forcing himself to work in crisis mode, and to recognize every resource he could.

"Two," he went on, snapping up another finger, "You keep being low profile. That one should be easy, if you mean what you say. You do that, and I'll do what I can to keep shit from raining down on you. Call it a bonus on top of your requests." Everett's fingers folded back down, his hand extending to point across the desk at Eris. "Last... you stop calling me Captain, officer, whatever else you think needles me. Because it does. You call me Dupree, Everett, whatever. But not those words. I killed that part of me the same moment I killed you, girl. I won't have you dig it up every time you open your mouth." He took a deep breath, never blinking as he watched her. "Deal?"

She listened to the conditions, eyes level on him. "Define 'in the loop'." she said. Because that could mean anything, and the one thing she wouldn't do was tell him about she and Brett's plans. So long as they had plans, she still expected him to abruptly change them on her once he talked to Lina. They'd get their little plans going, and she'd be out from the word go. But until she got that door shut, she was holding up her end of the deal.

"The loop's simple. You let me know if you're having trouble, if you see something, hear something, if you're planning anything dangerous..." Ev turned a wrist over, showing a scar for a moment. "We're alone out here, and they're watching. Waiting for a chance to snap us up. You shouldn't worry so much about me or Kales, you should worry about what's around us."

"If they wanted me dead they would have let you kill me. I think I'm more amusing broken and wandering around that way. I still say I have more to worry about from you two. But fine. One more definition, though. Define 'dangerous'." she said. "Dangerous as in 'hey, I'm feeling homicidal today, I think I'll go set a building on fire', or dangerous...how do you mean?"

"I tried to leave," Ev said flatly. "After I took care of you, I couldn't cope. Gave Lina my position, packed my shit and bailed. I figured maybe I'd find some help and blow the whistle on the whole deal. No one else there was up for moving, I don't think they had shit for outdoors knowledge." He laid his shotgun flat on the desk, both hands resting on it. "I didn't get far before they found me... took their time on me. And I knew what I was doing. So for right now, most everything beyond working together is dangerous."

Eris eyed him for a long, long moment. "Took their time on you." she repeated. "Explain." she said simply. That? Was very pertinent information, after all. If she was walking into something like that, she wanted to know what she'd be dealing with. What Brett would. Maybe the guns wouldn't be used on bears.

He'd done the math in his head several times now, but Ev knew he'd never have an exact count on how much of his life had been taken from him. "I left in April... April 10th," he said with a scowl, unable to hold the stare entirely. "Made it maybe... ten, eleven days on the move. Then they found me... and then? They entertained me until sometime in August. Figure it out, Eris. They weren't making me popcorn and showing movies. They disarmed and subdued me, and that was the nice part of my run-in with them."

She nodded. "Understood." she said. Which meant she was going to have to be very, very careful. And talk to Brett again. Soon. Fuck. "May I have a pair of handcuffs and a key to go with for my troubles?" she asked. Since she could think of a lot of uses for them, though she figured that he'd assume she was thinking of them in a sexual manner. She wasn't. She just wanted to be able to lock someone someplace if she absolutely had to.

"Tell you what," Ev rumbled, releasing the shotgun, "How about we play Let's Make a Deal. You're asking me for three things; guns, ammo, cuffs. I'm asking you for three, three things that are much less weighty." He folded his arms across his chest, trying his best to read her expression as he spoke. "Pick one thing you asked for, and we'll see how things go for the next couple of days. You and I do okay together? You can have another."

She looked at him. "Everett, if all I..." she started, then stopped, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "If I ask for the shotgun, you giving me the ammo that goes with it?" she asked. Since that was clarity she'd need. A few days. She figured it would take at least that long to modify the car, if Brett could get Lina to do it, and of course, assuming Lina could. She had no idea about the woman's real abilities in that area, just that she was a mechanic.

Ev chuckled, holding back a full-on snort of laughter. "Stockard, I'm already making a deal with the devil. Can't skimp on the tip." Working open the duffel bag, Ev dug a hand in and closed it on a box of shells, fishing out a handful. "Now I'm not saying you're the devil," he explained, laying one down on the desk, "You and I? We're bad, but we both know there's worse out there. Still, I get the feeling that the boys in charge planned this. They put us both near this place, knew we'd each want to arm up when the shit came down."

He set another shell beside the first, rattling the rest around in his hand. "So yeah, I'm giving you a full load. Six shots for one of these, I recognize the model," he went on, adding a third shell. "If you opt to use them here, make 'em count. Only thing I want clear is this; you got these out of storage before I ever got here, follow? I'm giving the faith to assume you'll play this as smart as you always did. Make me regret it, and... well, let's not go there. I don't want you dead again, girl. Believe that," he finished, neatly lining up the last three shells. "More ammo down the road, if you play ball."

She watched him lining up the shells, and felt very, very frustrated. She'd asked for a box, not just a few shells. A few shells weren't going to help her. A few shells wouldn't last, if anything did happen. She didn't correct him on his assumption, that they both wanted to 'arm up' as he said. She did catch a discrepency in what he'd said earlier with what he'd said now, though. So she looked back up from the shells to his eyes. "Didn't you bitch at me earlier, saying 'for all I know, you could be rounding them up to keep away from other's' or whatever?" she said, knowing she didn't have exactly what he'd said. She only remembered the gist, not the words how he'd said them. Fucking braindamage. "Now you're saying that we both wanted to 'arm up'." she pointed out, though her voice could have been a lot more pointed with the statement. "What will be the difference in giving me a full box and just six shots?" she asked, voice reasonable. Even. "I would have to reload anyhow, no matter what I was using it for, unless it was a single-shot sort of situation. And if it was anywhere in town, that would mean people would come running..." then she frowned a little bit, looking a touch troubled, before she caught herself again and her expression cleared. "...or maybe not. People never---they didn't want to be involved before, did they."

"Not most of them, no," Ev replied, answering her last statement first. "With a lot of shit in the house, most people just let it get dumped on me or Dave or Kaori. When I did what I did to you, a few of them changed. They tried getting at answers, but someone, not me, corrupted their chances. Maybe it'll be different here, since so many of us have already been to hell once." He stared at her eyes as he spoke, seeing something undefinable, something disturbing... something familiar. Ev wondered for a moment if he had that look sometimes. "I..." he trailed off, frowning as he shook aside the thought.

"I said they'd know we'd want to find weapons, not that I was looking to get strapped. And maybe I was, they have my psych profile. I still fit it." It was indirect, but he'd admit to being caught in the lie. He reached back into the bag, grabbing the box of shells he'd opened only a moment earlier and palming it. "For this?" Ev said, moving around the desk, "If you want it, if we're making this deal and you've got your heart set on a shotgun? Hold still for a minute." The cryptic warning was all he seemed willing to give as he rounded the desk, advancing on Eris.

She tensed, but she stayed still. She could do that. Of course, her heart kicked up, it started pounding in her chest and she wondered if that was a sign that she actually wanted to live. She'd been feeling pretty suicidal today. Not actively so, or anything, but more than happy to go off into a situation she wouldn't return from. But being around Everett, when he'd already killed her once, was giving her reactions she didn't like. Tension, fear. And she wasn't sure what to do with it, either. She wondered if he was getting off on it, if he could tell. Either way, she did as he said.

He moved in close, nearly belly to bell with Eris, still holding the box of shells in one hand. Ev stared down at her for a long, wordless moment, searching for something in her expression. He thought he was imagining the tension, maybe projecting his own onto her, but couldn't say. In fact, he couldn't say anything in that instant, all he could do was follow the strange compulsion he'd had since first seeing her again. Ev reached for Eris' neck with his free hand, lightly pushing hair past one shoulder to uncover a longer expanse of the scars he'd left on her. He reached for it, stopping short and curling his fingers inward to resist the urge.

It wasn't sexual, it wasn't to gloat, it wasn't even for smug satisfaction at knowing she was likely scared by this. He just wanted to see it up close, to study the damage he'd left on another human being, no matter how distasteful, all because he'd let himself be wound up and released. After that moment, Ev's hand drifted lower between them, pushing away the pistol Eris had originally claimed. A moment later, he dropped the box of shells into her hand where the gun had been and moved away. "Take the shotgun on the desk and get out," he rumbled, putting his back to her.

She'd stopped breathing at one point there. And she'd flinched when he moved her hair. Her eyes had been off, over his shoulder as he did...whatever it was he was doing. When he finally moved past her, she squeezed her eyes shut tight, and bit hard at her lower lip for a moment. She didn't say anything, she just reached with a hand that was shaking far too much for her liking to start putting the shells back in the box. She wasn't loading the shotgun. And she leaned one hand on the desk, to support her weight, because she felt shakey all over, and didn't want to give him the satisfaction if he happened to look back at her. If she had trusted her voice not to shake too, she would have said she'd see him in a few days, for the handgun. But she didn't.

He was trying hard not to look back, just listening to the soft rasp of each shell dropping into the box and waiting for the absence of sound that would mean Eris was gone. His thoughts were a good distraction to focus on as he waited,though they weren't pleasant by any means. Why was he helping her? What was happening? Everett still felt the dark, ugly thing inside of him, the side that had let him kill before. But being up close, seeing again just what he'd done, even to someone he'd once thought was pure evil? It stung, it shook him even harder than the confirmation that the experiment wasn't over. Am I sorry? Is that why I'm doing this?

She put each shell into the box, then closed it, and picked it up. She grabbed up the shotgun, straightened, and walked out. She felt like she had a target on her back, the area between her shoulderblades itching like there was a site on it. She was still shaking. She needed to get out of here, and now. But she wouldn't let herself rush. She walked. And she shut the door behind herself.

When he finally heard the soft rush of air from the door closing, Ev looked back to where Eris had been. He was alone again, surrounded by the silence and the ransacked supplies. By what he'd told himself were good intentions. Some part of him hoped she wouldn't keep her end of their deal, that he could confirm himself with her failings, but Ev knew it'd be a cheap feeling if it happened. He moved around the desk again, pulling out the chair and dropping down to sit in it, eyes unfocused and staring at nothing. Whatever happened next? It couldn't be much worse.