crime doesn't pay
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“I feel like hittin’ the dance floor one more time before I go.”
Anxiety gripped Ohache’s chest. “Wh…wait what are you-”
Vacherie grabbed the kid’s arm, eyes glittering. “Laissez le bon temps rouler.”
She's loud, carries big guns, and drinks like a fish. They're quiet, and nervous, and great at picking locks. Together they make a great team, until they're behind closed doors and forced to confront their demons, both within and without.
A road tripping crime story that's more about mental illness and its effect on relationships.
- Part 1 of Fools' Gold
He had no care, nor clue what the man had originally looked like before he had fallen prey to the whims of his Uncle Sasori, but he barely looked human now. A shell of what once was. Gaara could see it, that dull despair. His Uncle had broken him.
Of course there had never been any question as to the outcome. No one could last long against his Uncle. There simply wasn’t anyone strong enough, well, perhaps one.... Society had grown lax, one generation to the next raising the privileged for the vain. Shells of what should be, of what could be...of what will never be ...ever...again. A cruel smile full of wicked pleasure broke out across the normally stoic bland face of the dark bloodred head.
His Uncle, had picked up his scalpel. Gaara leaned forward in eager anticipation. This was his favorite part. There was always so much blood.