Southern Salvation

[Ms. Lucy]

They'd take the state route out from Chicago, heading south, away from the coming chill of autumn. An unwitting doctor was behind the wheel, his eyes showing a bit of excitement alongside doubt, doubt that had more than a right to exist there. After years of knowing Lucy, Remo knew not to take things at a first glance. There was always a snake in the grass, one just had to be patient.

"A few weeks? Lucy, I've got appointments and scheduled exams wi-.." Remo said to her with arms folded and a bit of unhappy uncertainty before she cut in to his sentence like an impatient knife..
"Fine, tend to yer' old folks an' bitchin' kids...I'll have fun by muh' lonesome 'den I suppose...or maybe I won't.."

The Creole's teals had cut up at him in glee, knowing her words would entice...and they did. Remo wasn't the type to go running blindly though, at least not anymore.

"Just give me one more day at least, so that those old folks and bitchin' kids can have someone else to look after them...besides, why such a rush if we're going on vacation? Isn't it a time for relaxation?"

He'd receive no answer for the immediate question, only a smile as she turned tail.

"Tomorrow, by t'ree I'll be back. I know ya' don't sleep, so doin' all da' rearrangin' oughta' be done in da' mornin' and finished by twelve. Pack enough for a few weeks... See ya 'den."

A day...it irritated her, but she'd take it; beggars can't be choosers, and at the moment he was all she had for support. Then the night faded, and with the new light of the day would come the Cajun. Remo had done as she asked, appointing his scheduled days to an office in the northeast side of the city, right along the bay. A few hours of perturbed phone calls alongside hands busy stuffing suitcases, and three o'clock finally rang itself in with a rhythm of knuckles at the door. Punctual as ever, that one.

They'd be free of Illinois now, with twilight well upon them. The sun burned across the sky, making it bleed a terrible crimson as an orange blade attempted to cut through the violet cloak of the approaching night. In all this time, Remo hadn't asked where they were headed...such an amusing fool; so wise yet so careless around Lucy, the one person he tried to be so guarded around. Realising this, he tried to mask his unawareness in a seemingly unassuming question.

"How much further?"

Lucy would laugh at his, her ciggy bobbing on smiling lips. She'd known all along he hadn't asked, but she found it rather sweet, and wouldn't redden his cheeks further.

"Oh, I dunno'...'bout a thousand mo' miles...Miami ain't no stone's throw..."

Maybe she wasn't lying, maybe it really would be a vacation, what with all the hard work they'd put into construction...Lucy would reward herself...wouldn't she?

[Ms. Lucy]

Things would grow a bit more methodical as the pair approached the southern states. It had been home to Lucy for so many years, but there was that obvious reason for why she left... Certain hotels were out of the question as stops, as well as certain towns and areas. Days and days of driving had gone by fast enough, what with frequent night time romps between the two, and sharing of other vices; she'd introduce him to hash, and she to amphetamines. What a toxic team they were.

Dr. Vasco had given Lucy a shot of the adrenaline booster whenever she'd gotten tired, which would give her a few more hours of driving time before the cruel mistress that is sleep began to kick in again, this time in full force. The only issue with Remo's drug of choice is that every moment of energy you had while on it was taken back twofold once it was out of your system... He'd insist she pull over and let him take over at that point, giving himself a more potent injection. He didn't want to risk giving her the more powerful stuff just yet, it could hurt your heart if you weren't ready for it... He'd be about an hour into his first stretch of driving when an opossum would would run out into the middle of the road, and he'd have to swerve to avoid it, knuckles white on the steering wheel. They were big creatures, he'd seen a tire ruined by one the size he'd almost hit... But he'd almost gone off the road, and he was sure Lucy would have been woken by it... "Fuck, sorry. Damn animal tried to wreck your car..."

Lucy was beginning to adore the poison as much as she hated it. Blood was reborn after it was tainted with the injection, burning the veins it traveled through with stamina and ability. Her foot had pushed the pedal, craving a bit more pace as the horizon mocked her with it's never ending slither. She remembered the fall from grace. Ravenous teals had became lackadaisical as the thudding heartbeat came to a gentler gait after a few hours. The switch would only come to memory as she woke to the swerve and skid of wheels and other bits of metals. Fingers gripped tight at the leather seats as frantic pools stared down the white lines in the center of the road. The rush returned, though fueled naturally this time by adrenaline. As they righted, the Creole would sink back into her seat, an uncaring comment betraying a bit of her still secreted plot earlier than desired. "Pssh, ain't my ca'hr..."

Remo brought a hand up to run through his hair, glancing over as she settled back into the seat with a smile. Well, at least she didn't get too worked up about it... He leaned back, fingers gripping the wheel again, eyes scanning for any more animals... Though when she spoke, he'd smirk, shaking his head. He didn't know why he'd thought any different, stealing a car wasn't near the worst he'd known her to do... "Well, then I should quit goin' easy on it, hm?" He smiled as his foot stepped down quite a bit harder, the car now flying down the highway. He had a few hours left in him, and he didn't have to worry about the car's engine if it didn't belong to her... So why not put it through its paces?

Her lashes fanned open once more, drowsy but wanting the waking world. The orbs just below rolled in his direction, as if expecting something. He seemed the type to be fussy about misdeeds, as he had been in the past...but he was taking this rather well. Maybe he was finally coming around. "Yeah well, don't have too much fun....steelin' anotha' ain't gon' be as easy if we in da' middle o' nowhere..." She shifted in her seat now. Smooth legs were brought up and hugged against her chest as her curly haired head rolled to her own shoulder. "We'd hafta' catch somebody comin' down da' road..." She was serious, staring out the front windshield with intent. "You know this ain't no joy ride down for da' hell of it by now...doncha'?"

Her Italian wasn't driving recklessly, just quickly. He'd been nervous about causing dings and the like... "I know what a car crash does to the people inside, I'm not about to wreck us. I just don't have to be careful with the paintjob is all." A lot of these roads had trees and the like that could scratch a car going quickly, he'd been slowing down for those.. He'd ignore the bit about stealing another car... Her stealing someone's car? That was no trouble. But he didn't think he'd be part of something like that any time soon... "Yeah, I'd figured you had some plans down in the sunshine state, or you wouldn't have just picked up with no warning. Vacation may be your style, but somehow I doubt you just leave your business with no notice for it..." She'd have left someone in charge if this was just pleasure..

[Ms. Lucy]

The days past driving had been tranquil, what with the pair sharing dark vices, comparing toxicity, and the occasional non-platonic incident. And, after having admitted the ultimate motive for this little adventure, Lucy would finally give him something tangible to look to before she'd ask him to burn the evidence.

Dusk had bloomed in a violent red that spread along the horizon. It swept along like a blade, it's silver lining giving the final slash to the coming black velvet of the night. Red curls were tumbling out of the wide window of the car as she enjoyed the dying summer breeze of Georgia. A previously busy set of fingers only held an idle pen over a marked-up route map as she took a moment to ponder the apparently finished result.

"Alright dah'lin'...I s'ppose I need ta' offah' ya' some sorta light in da' dark, huh?" Never one to openly admit generosity, Lucy's only avenue of kindness was humor. And that had worked well enough so far. The map was soon tapping against her thighs, rolled up tight.

Remo's eyes would linger on the set of legs as his eyes fell from the road.

"Huh?" Was asked before the recovery statement came quickly after
"Oh yes...what's going on?"

Lucy would open up the map, spreading it over the dashboard with stretching fingertips. Defiant corners swirled back into the roll as she widened her grip.

"We're gonna be doin' a quick heist....I'm damn near outta money..."

The revelation came with a frown, but she would continue.

"Islander rum is da' main target...but also..."

A spidery fingers drew up from Miami to Broward County and Ft. Lauderdale.

"We're gonna be stoppin' in ta wrangle a bit of money at da' Casinos..."

It was here that Remo realized why he was really coming with; a keen eye and exaggerated perception made him ideal for evening the odds in their favor.

[Ms. Lucy]

Lucy Black howled as the cards slapped down with a royal flush. Broward County was ripe with life, more so than she'd expected. It seemed Jimmy Blue Eyes was spreading his long arm faster than the law, and the people were shining towards it with ten fold the appreciation. His wallet was fat, and he'd be able to afford her earnings and the loss that was to come in but a few hours. Compared to him, she was a speck on the map of criminal activity...and who pays that much attention to a speck? Club Boheme was easy to spring into if your were dressed right, even if your color was a bit darker than proffered. A few Jackson's and they'd forget the darker gradient and how it offended them. Remo would have better luck when it came to varieties of tables...she'd have to dance around a bit before being able to land. But once in, she'd begin to reap. Pearls shined wide in a lipstick frame, fresh pink and wild as her attitude. Gloved fingers coiled around her chips, raking them as fedora clad men frowned or freed their frustrations through sighs or plumes of tobacco. Her feathered hair pin danced in their cigar's leavings, defiant and tall as she sat up once more. Cases stacked in her purse held perhaps over four hundred dollars. Pretty damn good for starting out with eighty bucks. She'd given Remo a higher allowance, figuring him far more able, what with color and intellect. And the curvy figure was sauntering up from behind now, wanting to check in on his progress, and to reinstate that time was drawing to a close.

Remo had been given closer to the tune of $150, and he'd been flickering from table to table, always sticking with cards. Cards you could count, you could work, and it meant you were playing against people. With a roulette table or a craps board, you were dealing far more with luck. But with a blackjack or a poker, you could make things far more in your favor... He'd intentionally folded a few hands, over-hit, stayed low... He had to give the impression he wasn't here to clean them out, but he'd been steadily making money all evening. He gave the dealer a grin as he made his eight hundredth dollar (of course he never had that many chips on the table at one time) when Lucy came up, and he'd grin to look up at her, moving to his feet. "Damn, time to go already?" Lucy hovered over his chair like a concrete angel atop a gravestone. Sly teals slipped along the neighboring faces, judging that their dismay was in her favor. Freckles rose as she smiled down to him and the pile he'd amassed. "Unfortunately, oui..." Her tone was longing and sarcastic as she knelt a bit in order to press a kiss to his temple. He turned his eyes back to the dealer, who seemed fairly eager to get rid of Remo. It wasn't good for business to lose so much money... "How about I go cash us out and you get the car, then?" He'd ask as he stood up and picked his chips up in the bag he'd brought.

Once he was up her arm would loop around his, and her posture screamed of triumph.

"Four fa' me...eight or so for you...an' dis is our third day, boy...twelve hundy....just ta'day..." Her giggle was completely merry as they strolled toward the cash-out booths. "How much we made on those otha' days, hmm?"

Remo smirked as she chatted about their earnings. "We've done great, that's for sure..." Moving to a different casino each night, make sure they don't attract too much attention to themselves while making enough money to live on for quite some time! He'd grin and let her go get the car, almost kissing her on top of the head before she went... She'd not like that, he didn't think. Though he'd hug her tighter for a moment and let her go.

Her hands began to reach into her purse, freeing the chip stacks to her satin encased palms and handing them to her companion. "Nev'ahmind, tell me when you get outside..." She parted ways, turning right towards the door.

"I'll come on out with the money in a few." And he'd go get them their money, the cashier having to go break out another roll of bills to give him everything... And then he'd thank the pretty woman behind the counter before moving on off to the outside door, heading to the car that was idling out front.

The Creole's fingers had made quick work of a ciggy from her polished brass case. The top flipped up and open, revealing the five she had remaining. The thinnest was fed off of, bleeding out that smoldering stream as she inhaled. She'd gotten lost in the hum of the motor for a moment, thinking on the previous day's loot that sat in the back of her car, waiting to come home with her and help begin a new brew. She couldn't wipe that grin away even if she tried, and it would only grow wider as Remo was finally seen coming down the steps. She liked the look of the weight of the bag in his hands...and leaned over to pop the door open for him.


He'd hop in and look at her with a grin. "Thirty-two hundred in three days. Jesus, Lucy, that's insane!" He'd laugh a little and shake his head. tossing the money into the back as they started to drive off... And he'd lean over to kiss her on the neck then, wide grin on his lips. "We've fuckin' cleaned house...."

Her heart gave a flutter as his kiss landed on her, and even more so when he spoke of the entire amount they'd swindled out from under these idiots. "Thirty-two hundred fuckin' dollars, son! We're gonna' be sitting pretty for a while, you an' me..." Her head was shaking in disbelief as her hands were coming up the steering wheel.

His eyes were off the road for a moment, and there would come a baseball bat to the windshield, cracking it and earning his attention, hand already reaching for the gun.

Lucy Black had been more than ready to depart into the known unknown when the splinter and shatter came across the windshield in a violent web. The shock caused her to yelp and duck as piece of glass began to chip off and flutter down the front of her dress. Wild eyes looked about, only to find barrels smiling at her and Remo. She only had the derringer on her garter belt, and a knife in her bra...this made her heart sink into cautious anger.

There were three men there, one with the bat going to town on the (thankfully stolen) car's windows, and two with guns pointed. Nothing was said yet, they were trying to scare them first. Not a tactic that worked well on Remo, whose body fell still and eyes fell cold as he looked at the man, ready to shoot his currently hidden gun the moment those guns were distracted.

"Good evening." Said the man closest to Remo. The windshield finally burst after a final, punishing thwack, and the slugger went to deliver the same fate to the rest of the windows. "We'd like to have a word, if you please..."

Remo's eyes were coldly resting on the one across from Lucy when he saw the woman looking at the one closest to him. It was easier for him to aim his gun straight that way rather than the cramped space to his right. When the glass broke, the only movement he made was to shield his eyes and look up at them with a smile.

"... Then, by all means, speak."
His chest was rising and falling slowly as he kept his eyes on the other man.
"You appear to have us at a disadvantage, so I can't stop you from sharing a few words."

The window next to Lucy's face would shatter then, glass falling around them, and the man near her would frown. "Shit. I was hopin' the nigger's face would get cut. Hey Bill, yer losin' yer touch!" To which the bat wielding man would shout "SHUT YOUR FUCKIN' TRAP!" and smash the rear window, reaching in to grab for the money. Remo was remaining calm, but the comments made him sure.

Lucy was cursing herself up one side and down the other. She should have been paying better attention, she should have had her .38 on her the whole time. Things had been legit though...had they hung around too long...the casinos had been owned by the same group. Had they kept tabs? It was stupid to dwell on the maybe's now...she had to focus on what was going on around her and Remo.

Her head would turn away from the window as the man stepped up to it. She felt the sprinkle of shards at the back of her neck, and was hoping the bat wouldn't come into say hello as well. Luckily he moved on, and to the comment she'd shine up to him. "You woulda' kissed it ta' make it better, right?" She puckered up at him, a defiant giggle humming in her throat before she leaned back a bit. Panic was subsiding and the creole was falling into her comfortable mold.

"I can't imagine you wanted ta' compliment us on all our good luck.." She said as her teals followed the bag of money that got yanked from the vehicle's backseat.

The man who called her the nigger would bring the butt of his gun down to her temple when she made the joke about kissing her. Lucy Black's cozy element was ruptured as the corner of the grip collided with her temple. She'd not yelp or hint to pain, but the ache was evident on star-spotting eyes. Her head whipped toward Remo, dislodging it's hair style, sending her feather pin flying. White gloved fingers swept those blood red curls back, and found themselves stained with a similar hue. A small break of flesh began to pour. She hated wounds on or around the face...they always bled so much. A quick drip began to flow along her cheek, only being caught as it cuddled around the curve of her nose.

Remo leaned forward until he felt that gun press to his temple and heard the hammer pull back. It didn't matter how fast he was here, he couldn't be fast enough to dodge that bullet, and they weren't killing her just yet. That was the moment that a match would light a cigar, illuminating a plump face from off in the nearest alleyway. He'd come walking up to the car slowly, eyes on the man with the gun to Remo's head.

"Relax boy..." She'd say to Remo a bit breathlessly. The pain was already throbbing, covering her voice in crackling pitches, but she saw that gun before he did...and wanted to leave this with a skull she could still feel.

"We don't want them dead right now, Franky. Ease up on the gun."

That was a load off Remo's mind, it meant they could get off... The man spoke with a heavy Russian accent, and his eyes turned to Remo with a smile. He assumed the man was the lead, obviously.

"Now then, I don't believe we've been properly introduced. You may call me Asimov, I'm the man you just stole from." And he'd blow his smoke into the broken windshield with his eyes locked on Remo's...

"Who stole? We played nice like all da' rest did...we just did it betta' 'den 'dey did..." Lucy would say as he hand went snaking up her leg for her derringer.

Remo chest was rising and falling slowly as he stared at the newcomer. Clearly the boss... He'd open his mouth to speak when Lucy did, and his eyes flicked over there.

The Russian's eyes turned to her for a moment. "My my, girly has quite the mouth on her..."

The man brought the gun up to pistol whip her again, and the leader raised his hand in the air. "Not necessary." Remo turned his eyes back towards Asimov then, a smile on his lips again as the calm came back over him.

"She's right. We played your games fair and square, no foul play..." And then Asimov turned his eyes to Franky, and nodded... And before Remo could react, the gun came down and popped a shot into Remo's kneecap, leaving him clutching the knee and screaming while Asimov walked up closer with a smile.

"That's the point... Nobody wins here, the house always comes out ahead. But by my count, you have three thousand dollars of my money, plus some interest..."

The shot rang out, and panic had already been beset on her heart when she saw the barrel rising. It paramounted as Remo's scream alerted her core, and arms immediately wrapped around him as he bent over the gnarled joint. "Shit..." She'd mumble before looking up to the Cossack. "You want it 'dat bad, you can have it...I'm tired of lookin' at cha' anyway...."

Vasili Asimov walked up to her then, shoving the pistol-whip happy man out of the way to reach into the car through the windshield, stubby arm grabbing her and pulling her close. "You're the brains, ain't ya?" He glanced at the man. "The boys and the dealers said that he was the one who was countin' cards and makin' the money... But you call the shots, don'tcha? Where you from, chickie?"

Remo was too busy writhing in pain, he'd never been shot before and the thing had impacted his kneecap and splintered it. He'd have a lot of trouble walking out of here. The Russian forgot about him for now, and so did the man with the gun.

"What's your name? I like to make sure I know who it is I'm fuckin' up before I do it..." His face was pitted and scarred, his hair receding... Yet the men acted like they were afraid of him. He must have been a ruthless man..

Lucy Black's stained glove wrapped around the arm that caught hold of her pearls and dress. She'd come up against the dashboard, glass crunching in against her chest some while other bits dropped off with faint clamors. Her heart was pounding but her breathing was calm. She'd follow the lines that tracked along his features and bore into his cheek. He'd been in the Great War, no doubt.

"What's a nigga's name to you, Asimov?" She smiled with his name on her lips, "I'm from across da' gulf, Louisiana...I'm sure you're able ta' see 'dat.. And yeah, I'm leadin' 'dis...dis boy don't know no betta' than ta' just follow what I say...he didn't deserve 'dat shot...I'm da' one you wanna be shootin' at." She wasn't a liar, by no means...he just wasn't specific enough. There'd be no truth for him though. Her other palm had the small shooter in hand. She needed a shot between the eyes, and the closer he pulled her out, the more chance he was giving her. "Why all 'dese questions now? Don't you want your money?"

Remo's hand clutched at his knee, and his breath started coming faster, masking his anger behind the pained noises he was making... And as Lucy was talking to the man, he'd notice that two of the three men were standing outside his broken window, all grouped nicely together with the bat wielder handing the money to Asimov.

"Oh, you know exactly why I want to know..." He'd pull the cigar from between his teeth, blowing the strong smoke in her direction as he chatted. "Bill, just put it on the hood, for god's sakes."

And Bill moved to stand with the others... Good for Remo, his eyes flicked up to them, then he made another low hiss of pain. The man brought the cigar down to Lucy's chest, pressing the cherry against the exposed skin of her cleavage with a grin.

Lucy was ever the coy defiant. She breathed in the aroma of the cigar nice and deep as the plume surrounded her face. Her cheeks swam in the grey mask until it dissipated. Not another word would leave her lips, not even a sound, until the heat of the cherry was coming alongside her skin. As it met she felt the white heat, siring and crinkling the delicate flesh. Her pearls broke with her intial jerk, but he'd tug her closer by the neck hem of her dress. Gritting teeth finally erupted with a furious shriek, but it would be trumped by the powerful ringing of shots from her right.

"I want to know who I'm fuckin' up, and where to mail the body parts back to. But Louisiana ain't where you work out of... You're from--"

And then Remo took his chance, fighting through the pain and sighting down the gun, six loud shots echoing in the street as the three men dropped, no time to pull their guns. "Fuckin' step on it NOW Lucy!"

His voice came bolting into her brain and she obeyed. Her heeled foot slammed the pedal, and the Ford screeched across the pavement. The Russian would only be left with a torn piece of silk and the light trails of a stolen car.

Remo was left panting in the seat, his hand gripped to that bleeding knee and making small noises of pain every now and then. "... Fucking hell, a bullet inside your bone hurts." It was the first thing he could say, vision still tunneled with pain. That wouldn't have been possible if they weren't all so close together... He'd hear a flapping noise in the wind, and see the heavy bag on the hood, and he'd grab it and pull it in, setting it in the back. "We need to get a new car. This is just begging to be pulled over..." He shook his head a little, glad that the men had been far enough away from the car that they didn't have blood on it. But there was still broken glass all over it, and they had a handful of broken windows... "Jesus... Is that the guy we came down here to burn the shit out of..?"

"Oui..."

[Ms. Lucy]

The plan was still in place, despite the near death experience, and the wound that splintered the good Doctor's leg...but days had to be stretched into weeks now...and arrangements needed alterations. Calls had been frequenting her care-taking brothers. Announcements of the incident and protests for an early return. She'd often hang up when the conversations reached those points. The fools didn't realize that without this...there was no future in all the effort that they'd all put into the alcoholic paradise; construction, monopolizing the territory, falsifying identities, acquiring shippers and suppliers, creating the brewing lab....it would all fall away without the needed funds, and the signature Rum.

The drive to Miami had been slow, requiring frequent stops for Remo, for food, for clothes that were smacked with blood...the usual. Finally though, the golden coast was reached, and it was here they'd be camping for a while.

It wold take weeks more for that wound to heel, and with the money they'd acquired, there'd be no fear of running out of money to pay for a place to stay...but that was not the main concern. Whatever they pulled from the pot was less to go for the payment of her properties, for the payment of shippers and stockers, of tenders, and of the police and their silence. She began to resent the Italian more and more as time went on, and it was beginning to show.

She'd either have to be doing this raid alone...or she'd have to make some new connections...

[Ms. Lucy]

Lucy Black's trip out from Broward county had been one of annoying misery. Her skull had begun to pound from the assault that had been poured over it in the past few days. Pistol butts whacking her temple, abuse of Remo's amphetamines, her lack of opium...it was all catching up to her in the welcoming, velvet darkness of the night. Sleep had also been a dragon she could not catch. Asimov had beaten them up somethin' awful, same with their previous vehicle. Windows all broke, brutalized with a Louisville slugger, along with the fenders, the hood, the doors...and of course she and Remo. Two nights of constant road riding from The Boheme; no shut eye, no naps...just sex and showers. Fort Lauderdale had been a welcome sight, a light of hope in the blackness of an almost never ending horizon. No street lights were on; the country roads had been disorienting to an already weakened awareness.

She had made a quick in and out on the lower west side of the city. Racism here was directed more to the Cubans and other islanders, and Lucy looked as though she could be from anywhere with that coffee colored skin.

"There's eighty dollars to ya' iffin' you can get me all 'dis from in 'dere.' The Creole had nabbed a young fella on the street, and handed him a laundry list any neighboring pawn shop would be stocked with. Eighty dollars was nothing to lose after a gain of nearly thirty-five hundred from yesterday...and the boy was easily persuaded. He'd come out with boxes of .38 special, Thompson rounds and a pair of shotguns with forty-eight shells for each. The youth didn't care what color the hand was the handed him the money, to him at that moment, everything was green.

Remo was waiting, and she had no time to dilly-dally. He was given his money and a kiss before they became strangers once more. The tiny Cajun retreated back to her car, looking like a mad criminal with a bloody temple, burned cleavage, and armful of guns and ammo. She gave no shit though, and was soon back on the narrow, country roads before anyone could give a second glance.

Maxine's head screamed with freedom and metallic growls of imagined pursuit. It had been a week since her escape and she hadn't stopped running unless she fell and passed out in the dirt. Mostly she'd stayed away from the roads, the vultures and the watchers would see her there, and she'd been taken back.

The girl was distantly aware that she had done something very, very bad to some people who were just trying to help her. At least that's what they said, but under their human suits they were all the vultures with eyes made of lenses and beaks full of Cheshire grins. But she was getting lost in the wilderness, and the road would lead the way to somewhere. Anywhere far away.

Lucy always brought out a ciggy to help easy her nerves when frazzled, or hazy...and hazy didn't even begin to describe the throbbing, the withdrawals... She wanted more of Remo's shoot-up drug when she got back. An amazing thing that was. She could be awake for days if she needed too... Spider slender fingers were lazy as they opened up her shining brass case. Slow, thoughtful digits unclipped the hold and fumbled with the rolling papers that were flaking and dried from all the heat. She'd care about their condition later. All that mattered was getting that nicotine. Plump petals received the cancer stick with a lick so it would stick to her flesh as she searched for matches in her purse. Those tired teals left the road for but a second...but that's all it took.

Maxine started to hear the circling of birds over her head and started to just run again. In the darkness, the fact she was still in a straight jacket(though she had freed her arms in order to free herself) would be missed at first. It would just become a blur of white, red, and brown in the headlights. Poor lunatic didn't even see a car traveling down the road in her panic, because she was looking over her shoulder.

The Cajun's peripheral sights caught the human-esque silhouette and her palms seized the wheel with intent ferocity. She swerved left, trying to avoid the mad looking woman. Thin tires squealed on their sides and threatened to tip as the weight was being pulled. Over correcting, Lucy made a hard right to help stabilize, leaving more burned creases against the half dust road.

The lights scared her and she dove, narrowly dodging getting nailed and becoming a gory hood ornament. She tumbled, losing her lone stocking she had been afforded for whatever reason(she heard laughing in her head and felt a hand that was not there doing... nothing, she couldn't remember more) and scraping her leg on some rocks. Her hands that tried and failed to break her fall received the same treatment, but as soon as she stopped rolling she tried to get to her feet to keep moving. She couldn't, so she started crawling. Luckily for her modesty, she had also been allowed to keep her underwear. The pain didn't register, neither did the stinging of her head where her last surgery scar had yet to completely heal. It oozed blood, but she didn't notice. She had to go. Or she would be trapped in that pit and wake up in her cell, and she'd never get away again.

Who the fuck is runnin' these roads at this time of night? It was all that was going through her mind as her door flung open. "What da' fuck?!" Would be the first thing to be heard as heels clicked against the uneven road, clumsy and unstable. Heavy panting had her chest undulating, while wild eyes spread over the road, looking for the near victim. She caught sight of the bleeding, bare head rising quickly. "Hey!" Was called after it, and then it began to run with he rest of its body. The creole looked back at her car, wondering if it was just best to keep going...but the person was hurt, maybe...she didn't know. "Damn..." Was mumbled in frustration against her curiosity, and she'd begin to follow.

Maxine had scurried her way onto the road when she heard a voice. An unfamiliar one, at that. Fear ran through her, ice cubes in her veins. She was completely sure that she had been caught and quit crawling at that point, turning around so that she was sitting on the ground, facing the woman that had almost hit her. Upon seeing that she hadn't been discovered by anyone who immediately appeared to be from any sort of authority. Especially the mental health kind.

Lucy's breath had been caught quick enough, but awkward positioning of feet was taking up unnecessary energy from an already exhausted body. The panting quickly returned as she neared the woman on the road. The car turned damn near completely around in all the chaos, so headlights were illuminating at least a bit of her path. "Hey!" Would be called out continuously until the woman finally quite and took a seat on the disturbed embankments of gravel and concrete. The soft jog ceased once Lucy had made the distance between her and her potential victim more shallow. Breathless drawl of a southern tug curled off her lips tiredly, but still fueled with that adrenaline. "Now what da' hell do you t'ink yer' doin'?! Runnin' in da' road in the middle of da' fuckin' night?" The tiny woman looked like a sweet box of chocolate, but that mouth made one realize she was anything but. Hands came to rest on her hips as she straightened out her back.

The dim lights from her car were beginning to reveal a sight though, one she hadn't been prepared for.

Maxine's face had seen much better days. Her right eye was bruised but not swollen shut, though it had been. Her lip was split. Most alarming about her present appearance was that she was covered in blood and dirt. It was dried and flaking away, but there was no mistaking what it was. Around her mouth even had it, from when she tore the inner workings of a nurse's wrist out with her teeth. It was all over the front of her straight jacket. Slowly, she began to scoot backwards, blue eyes staring at the woman intently. Her demeanor was that of an animal trying to figure out if it's prey or not. She knew she wasn't a predator here, even fueled with insanity, she hadn't eaten in days or slept with any sort of regularity and just wasn't strong enough. Her feet were cut up and dirty from wandering, and the filth just climbed up her calves from there. The madwoman's nearly absent mind was trying to work around if she could trust this stranger who had almost killed her by accident, or if she should just try to run away from her. Not that she was sure that she could even get up. Now that she had stopped, her muscles had started screeching exhausted protests. The world was slowing down.

The Cajun's previously forward nature softened quickly, and she even moved to step back. It seemed no matter where she turned, there were insane people runnin' around. She'd never be returning to Florida...it was a fucking mad house apparently. The thin throat rolled down a thoughtful gulp as her arms now drooped beside her. Those bruises couldn't all have come from this incident...the brown decay of the drying blood hinted to previous altercations. She looked around, making sure there was no counterpart or attacker...or witness, and then those vibrant teals fell back to her.

"Where in da' fuck did you come from?..." Lucy's voice trailed as she decided to lean down, to get to her level.

Scars rose over the horizon from her bare scalp, and continued on a face that would have otherwise been lovely. Lucy's brow contorted in confusion as she doused the girl's face with observation. She reminded her of a real-life Frankenstein, running from the villagers... "And what in da' fuck happened?"

The madwoman twitched when the Cajun woman came closer, expecting violence at first. She had heard an accent like that before somewhere. Dry, chapped lips parted and she made a hoarse squeaking sound that was something like speech but not at all right. An animal sound, but this particular young woman seemed hardly human. A beaten and kicked dog in the body of a person. She tried to speak again, and the noises she made were less shrill, closer to her voice when she was healthy and hydrated. They even almost sounded like words. Now that the real threat had been more or less put away, she looked at the skies again. Nothing. At least nothing that she could see.

In response to the questions, she pointed westish then shrugged. She seemed to finally have noticed her head bleeding, and reached up to touch it. Nonplussed when she saw blood on her fingertips and the fresh scrapes on her hands, she just wiped them on her filthy straightjacket. Maxine kept on looking at the sky after that, brows furrowed with a frown on her lips. Searching and thinking very deeply about something. It was hard, every thought was disjointed and crowded by a hundred others trying to make sense of themselves. She thought she saw something and tensed up, ready to run if it was what she thought it was.

Curiosity was roaming in Lucy's mind about the woman. Was there a mental asylum around here, a sanitarium? No buildings were in the distance, but farms houses and silos. She'd follow the direction pointed to...west. Nothing was out there either but everglades and other swamp lands. The girl was so dirty, so helpless...she couldn't just leave her out here...but she could forget what they had to do. And she remembered the last time they were going to help someone...four people ended up with bullets in their heads and crushed in skulls. Tired hands rubbed at her forehead as she stood back up straight. Remo was a doctor...they could help her real quick and drop her off in Miami...

A reluctant sigh left her as she lowered a hand to the filthy, animal girl. "C'mon, I know a fell who can help wit' 'dat..." The Creole motioned to the oozing wound that littered Maxi's head in drooling blood. Remo wouldn't know what was coming to him...and she had no idea what she had found.

[Ms. Lucy]

The mad woman had been dressed up in some of Lucy's clothes... The creole was a petite thing, but her fashion hung on Maxine like a wire hanger. Bone thin limbs were waving about with little regard as she scurried around the tiny motel room. Like a mouse she'd been hopping about corners, and crawling on all fours from time to time. Her head was stitched up now, it's red stained thread shining against Maxine's bald head. Another scar to add to the collection that carved her; a road map of painful memories, no doubt.

Lucy's teal eyes had become stagnant bayous, staring out from behind wild curls as they watched the insane playfulness and the mess it made. While gathering up the necessary firearms about Miami's vast underbelly, she'd come across some kind fellas who shared her love for the China-man's intoxicant. Grams doped her up into euphoria, allowing an escape from the newest breed of chaos she'd nearly run over. The mad-woman was looking her more like an adorable stray dog...one with rabies and no teeth, instead of the burdening psychopath she'd recognized a few minutes before. Why not embrace the lunatic...she seemed so sweet after all, what with that oblivious smile and thoughtfully thoughtless touch.

A picture fell from the wall, erupting into noise and shards. The pair of women would laugh as Remo looked over his shoulder in horror.

"You realize that we're going to have to take her to a Sanitarium...we cannot keep her here with us."

Maxine continued her romp as Lucy looked to her doctor friend.

"You oughta' watch it wit' 'dat word...she don't like it...remembah? 'Sides..." Her tone was dozy and gentle as she slunk forward from the cozy hug of her chair. "I like her...she stays. "dat violent side may even come in handeh'.."

They'd seen it the day before...when discussing this same topic. Broken widows had led to a shard wielding maniac, only barely having been calmed by string and a harmonica.

[Ms. Lucy]

'Acquired' money was burning a hole in the creole's pocket, and restlessness did no favors as she stirred in front of the radio. Children's story-time was put on in an attempt to quell the extra energy Maxine had. Tales of undersea submarines and deceptive mermaids were doing little good it seemed; the lovely lunatic was hiding beneath the bed with only her hands and legs hanging shown poking out through the bed skirt swatting at invisible whatevers.

A cigarette hung from her fingers, the short amount left threatening to burn her fingers as she stood up from her nearby chair. A practiced sort of dance dictated her steps as those crazed fingers swatted at her toes as she passed by.

"C'mon gurl...we're headin' out."

The words were directed to Maxine, and soon she'd find herself in the busted-up Ford with a tight fitting cap-hat clinging to her bald scalp. One of Lucy's more conservative dresses barely hung onto the painfully slender body as the hard, hot wind blew through the lack of a windshield. Driving goggles were tossed to the madwoman as Lucy grinned at her. "We're havin' some fun tonight, you an' me..."

How much fun could one have with an insane person? It spoke sad volumes that Lucy chose this poor soul to have as a drinking partner... Loneliness causes one to follow paths that they otherwise would have ignored. And it didn't seem so far fetched to her as the lights of Miami beckoned on the horizon .

Dives were easy to find we one went toward the lively coast. So, with midnight fast approaching the kinder of the crowd would be lost leaving the sinners and their poisons. Toting Maxine along with linked arms, Lucy would pick a bar with a bright bulbed sign: LA FLORA TROPICAL. Her skin tones could do her favors, allowing her race to be ambiguous in some situations, and here it did just that. The assumed Cuban and her pale counterpart would be directed down stairs, to the right...then left...wait, back upstairs?
The hidey-holes were a bit more confusing.

Eventually she arrived in the red-lamp lit bar, the thick aroma of sweat, rum, and smoke wafting as trumpets blared the local music at dancing bodies. Ah...how homely. Maxine seemed a bit off-put by all the noise and quickly moving faces, but Lulu's soft voice would be cooing comfort in her ear as she maneuvered them through the available spaces. Once the bar stools were found it was drinks drinks drinks! And water for her crazy counterpart...

Nearby sat a scruffy haired Filipino, huddled in with a man that caught most folk's attention; mummified cyclops, dapper with his black void of a suit. Who knew what they were discussing...but Lucy soon caught wind of what they were smoking. It was an illustrious aroma, barely there but crying out to be found...opium. Biting her lip, she couldn't help but to hop down a few seats closer.

"Ya'll mind tellin' a gal where she can get her hands on some a' dat?"

The pair looked at the southern woman, but seemed to linger longer on her shy counterpart, hiding beneath her low brimmed hat.

"I can help you find this and anything else you might need to acquire."

A couple bottles of Laudanum were pulled up from behind the bar upon request, and suddenly it seemed Lucy had a new best friend. In the midst of her thankful banter, the bandaged man seemed to evaporate from their newly formed circle.

"Do you mind helpin' with some mo'...explosive sorts of treasure?

The now lone oriental would raise a brow at the sudden admission, but offered a soft smile all the while.

"I think we can work something out."

[Ms. Lucy]

The next morning and Lucy was already down in the city, having been picked up by the new little friend, Jack. On their way down, she had outlined her motives, what she wanted to happen, and where this was all leading.

"I see you're grand at making enemies." He'd joke looking over at the woman sporting a mint dress.

"I'm grand at getting what I need get done, people jus' cant 'ppreciate dat quality in a girl."

She'd toss his funny manner back as they approached a tucked away alley in the downtown portion of the city. Waiting for them was a rather tall geechi boy from the bayou's as well. His name was Benjamin, dark and large as a wall with a round bowler cap sitting atop his head. The car seemed to sink three feet as he sat down in the back.

"This is Benjamin, an associate of mine who would be able to help in a large way."

Ben would tip his hat, smiling kindly to the sister creole.
"Yes ma'am, I got me some tools I think you'd find useful."

The three went on, Lucy showing them the location on her marked up map as Jack mediated prices and Ben listed his available resources. Boheme boats, fast and with a toting capability for the load they'd be intercepting as it was coming from Cuba and the Bahamas.

Benjamin's thick finger was following the coast as it snaked along the map. "I can come up from da' powt' with my machine gun boat...try'n git some of the last of da boats and transfer da cargo."

Lucy would nod happily, curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Beautiful...I'll be driving my lil' crew up to da' loading docks...get dat mess started and ovah' wit, wit da boats dat lead da way...git done by da time you show up..."

Jack would then look to her. "Do you have enough fire power...because there's more on our end if you need it."

"I'll take whatev'ah ya' offa'...and don't worry, dat thirty percent will come with or without it. I just don't want no bottles bein' blown up... And aftah' all is said an' done we drive da boats up ta' North Carolina. My brotha's are gonna be up 'dere waitin' wit' a truck...then it's back to Chicago..."

[Ms. Lucy]

Remo would make himself useful one way or another, and as Lucy and Maxine began to walk down the sandy, night bathed dune he readied himself with the scoped rifle.

"Be vigilant..." Would be all she would say to him before hers and the bald head of her insane companion disappeared below the hill of sand. Jack was waiting form them all while, looking just as ready as ever with his Tommy gun in hand. Below them a concave cove was hiding beneath the ridge, lined with three even ports. One of them was already harboring a vessel that was ready to be cleared of its haul; over fifty crates of the golden liquid that was oh so coveted. The other two were being prepped, with men waiting in idle fashion; some smoked cigarettes, told jokes, doing their aimless time wasting.

"Benjamin's already intercepted two of the last boats that left. So, the rest of the little fleet may already smell something brewing. We're going to have to be fast... I have a little present though."

With a grin, he'd reach down to the bag at his feet. Lifting the weighty thing, one could see the grenades and dynamite hiding within. It was then that Lucy's eyes lit a bit brighter.

"What would I do without ya'? I'll plant da' sticks as I make my way 'round.." With that, she'd nab the bag, but not without a warning first

"Seven minutes..." Jack would say, looking serious. "We have seven minutes on their timers before we have to on those boats and gone. Plant and set them wisely"

With the grenades rationed, Maxine would find herself going without....out fear she would either throw it without pulling the pin, or pull the pin and not throw it...

The next boat came up over the horizon, it's light flashing a code to the dock workers...and it all began. Jack ran right in and Lucy wasn't far behind, her .38 ready in hand. They'd catch them with their backs turned. Remo was waiting for the commotion to start, and it would do so with the hive like hum of Jack's tommy. The whole group turned back to face the sneak attack as one of their own fell, doused in holes and blood. Before the form could hit the wet wood of the dock, Remo's Enfield would skewer another man's chest from the impressive three hundred yards. Two down...perhaps twenty more to go...

Return fire would begin, and the dock would seem like a scene of flash bulbs as Lucy decided that sleuthing was better tactfully for her multipurpose mission. Cover came in many forms; lingering crates, boats dry docked for repair, and each had a corner to have their little surprises hidden within. So, she'd creep along the in their dark shadows, picking off those who ran past her position with single shots to the head as she strategically set each bundle. Three...four...she'd pick them off in precise executions before changing her position. Luck could only last so long though, as a final corner turned had her face to face with someone who was not nearly friendly. They collided, each toppling their own way on the dock. The creole was reeling for a moment, unable to re-establish herself as quickly as her enemy, who came with a strangling grip.

The second boat had made it to the waiting dock, men ready as they'd seen the assault from way off shore. Jack would waste no time to wait for them though, throwing himself onto the vessel with a charging leap. Mayhem had all corners covered it seemed as Maxine was laying a gory mess in her wake. A straight razor was all she had carried, but one would think she'd had a butchers tool kit. Bodies looked more like slaughtered pigs as bellies were slit up the center and throats horridly mangled. Remo had been covering her the most since she had no long range weapon of any kind. His shots were boring into those who had the advantage of distance from her, trying to make sure the madwoman made it through the crowd in one piece. While most of the blood that painted her was foreign, not all of it was. Her arm and side had obvious wounds, but with the amount of adrenaline that was pumping through her veins, it was all numbed.

Lucy had managed to roll herself and her attacker off the dock, the pair of bodies splashing into the sea below. In these crucial seconds underwater, shaking fingers were reaching for the blade she kept in her bra. Her head then felt the wicked pressure of a hard grip taking those soaking strands and shoving her deeper into the water. Blindly, a determined hand stabbed at the wrist that held her down, finally getting a crucial strike in against the delicate tissue there. He'd pull back, finally giving her the opportunity to get a free, gasping breath. Neck aching and lungs screaming for relief, Lucy would nearly fly out from below the shallow surface. A racing mind had her focused despite it all, and as she saw where her attacker landed, the woman pounced. Foot on his neck, she'd give him a taste of the torture, watching as the bubbles of breath popped and pleaded below her. All the while her knife rammed over and over into his gut until silent stillness finally took over, leaving him in the brackish, ruddy portion of ocean.

An explosion then roared over the mad scene as one of Jack's grenades ripped its destructive path into the crowded boat. The entire area shook as flammable bottles bursted with the heat and pressure, spewing more of the fire and madness around onto the dock and into the water. Off in the distance Benjamin was cutting off the final boat, his machine turret spewing the crew in the obliterating wall of lead until it came to a deadened float. Maxine would be the first one to make it onto the only surviving Boheme, encountering a bludgeoning force in the form of a bat. It swung and hit its mark, bashing the girl into the bloodied side as she yelled out in agony. Pain finally set in for a moment, making those wide blue eyes blurred with dizziness.

"Fuckin' looney..." He'd spit it out at her as lifted the frail frame of hers up by it's shot arm. It was then that the girl lunged, digging her teeth into the man's throat. Intricate cartilage and veins would be sawed through, the jugular being the obvious target as other parts were also victimized. Her hands dug at his wind pipe, aiming to crush and rip as her teeth continued to dig deeper. His hands were finally able to push her away, but it wouldn't be long until he was falling to his knees, sputtering and gasping until a final silence took him. Lucy would soon be climbing onto the boat, seeing Maxine in her bloody face. She'd have time to worry later, and soon the engines were heard in their loud rev.

She'd look to Jack's burning vessel, and then back to the dock. At any moment things were going to blow....and so pulled the level for the anchor and began to drive the boat forward. The entire time those teals looked between the flames, trying to find a sign of that familiar life...and finally, after painful seconds his bloodied frame could been seen, slowly making it's way to the bow.

"C'mon boy, jump!!"

Lucy called out as she drove alongside and with a last amount of strength Jack leapt, hitting the deck with a sickening thud. He'd wake hours later. Remo was over him, having been picked up further up shore, all while Ben was leading the line of ships. Lucy was looking down at him, smiling finally as his eyes opened.

"So...ya' wanna keep da' job?"

And who could that pearled smile, even as they were teetering on the edge of life?