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Another quiet night at the diner, the jazz music playing faintly in the background, drowned out by the conversations going on at each table. Between these, there were the usual sounds from the kitchen: the sizzle of synthetic beef on the grill, the sound of fake cheese being squirted onto slices of white bread, the clinking of ice hitting the bottoms of plastic cups. One would consider Seatbelts Diner a fairly mundane, if even calm, atmosphere.
That still didn’t mean things couldn’t go wrong.
“10 and 2, 10 and 2, 10 and 2…” the curly haired waitered muttered, as their boney fingers clutched the rag he was using to wipe down the empty table. It was nothing short of irony that on one of the more quiet nights, Zack’s anxiety decided to absolutely skyrocket. He quietly breathed, panting even, gulping as they could only continue to wipe in circles. His heart was absolutely pounding, threatening to escape their chest. Something was going to go wrong, something *had* to go wrong, something-
“Zee!” Zack shook at the call, head bolting up like an overstimulated chihuahua. He looked up, seeing Rachel standing there, hand on her hip, a basket of fake cheesy bread in her hand. They gulped, standing up straight, tucking a curl behind his ear.
“Y-Yeah?” Zack asked, visibly gulping as the older woman gazed at him. Rachel only shook her head, all too used to the newbie’s usual attacks. In the 6 months they’ve worked here, Zack’s anxiety attacks have been an all to constant presence. But, on the flip side, She overlooked it as long as Zack still did as told.
“There’s a table waiting for you over by the bathrooms, table 6.” She said, before holding the basket up. “But first, think you can take this basket over to that couple in the booth, hun? Middle one, right by the bar.” She said, pointing. Zack looked over his shoulder, their large eyes gazing at the middle booth.
They could see two men sitting there, one in green and one in blue. The one in green’s back was turned from Zack’s line of sight, a bearded bald black man, wearing what looked like a greenish-gray sleeveless jumpsuit, red t-shirt underneath, with what appeared to be a robotic arm. The one in blue, the one they had the clearest view of, was clearly mid-30’s at the least, with wavy black hair, Korean if he had to guess too. And judging by his stomach, at *least* six months pregnant, to boot. He was wearing a dark blue sleeveless empire waist top, layered over a thick button-up, pale yellow shirt, a noticeable stitching by the shoulder, with a black tie loosely tied around his collar.
Zack gulped audibly, looking Rachel in the eye. They nodded, a nervous smile on his face. “Sure, I can do that.” He agreed, taking the basket.
Spike’s attention was firmly on the menu, brow furrowed. Five fucking months later, and even with the constant cravings, none of this looked good. He groaned, setting his menu down and rubbing his forehead. Jet sighed at him, finally deciding to speak.
“You need to stay away from capturing bounties, especially when you’re this far in.” Jet spoke up, getting Spike’s attention. He gestured to the stitch on Spike’s sleeve, still bearing the faint hint of blood visible on the cleaned sleeve. They were so lucky it *actually* was just a graze.
Spike turned his gaze upward, staring at Jet as if he had just grown a second head in front of him. “Yeah, how about we don’t and just say I did?” Spike snarked, rubbing his forehead.
“I’m serious, Spike!” Jet scolded. “After you nearly got your arm shot off today, we can’t risk it anymore.” He explained, Spike staring at him. He hated to admit he was probably right about this…
Jet reached over, grabbing Spike’s hand. “I don’t want *either* of you in danger.” He said, staring him right in the eyes. Spike froze, his gaze softened. “We’ll find you something to do in the meantime, I promise.”
“...Okay.” Spike conceded. He didn't want a fight. He didn’t want to risk things again, especially not after the incident so long ago. Jet smiled at him, Spike noticing his gaze. He couldn’t help but smile in return, even if it looked a little half hearted.
“Uh-ahem!” Zack peeped, getting their attention. The two turned their gazes to them, seeing him holding the cheesy bread basket. “Here’s your cheesy bread, sirs. Kareyll will be here to take your order shortly.” Zack said, setting the bread basket down.
“Thank you, Mx.” Jet graced, taking note of their hastily modified name tag. Zack chuckled before bowing slightly, before going to clean another table before taking the next order. However, they couldn’t help but overhear the conversation right beside him.
One table over, sat a man and a woman, across from each other. The woman looked fairly slim, if fairly youthful. Her face was oval shaped, adorned with freckles dusting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows were fairly thick as well, sitting atop large brown eyes. Her face was accentuated by a small pink bob cut, interrupted by brown roots. She was dressed in a black fishing vest, with two layered shirts; a white tank top worn over a slightly baggy black tee shirt, black cargo shorts, stopping at her knees, tapping her feet clad in short lace up boots, her arms crossed, her fingerless glove-clad hands tapping at her skin.
The man, on the other hand, had a more muscular build to him, befitting his square jaw and noticeable cheekbones. He was slightly tanned, with long dark hair down to his mid back with red highlights scattered about. He was wearing a slightly torn, blood-stained white t-shirt, a black leather jacket hanging off the chair he sat upon. His strong hands had black gun-holding gloves upon them, showing the bottoms of his palms. His pants were black jeans with zippered legs, partially unzipped to show what appeared to be black tights. His boots were laced up, a rich shade of mahogany brown.
“Are you fucking insane, Mira? What were you thinking?” The man chided, speaking quietly enough to not draw attention to them. His brows were furrowed in worry, as if dreading the consequences of his partner’s action. “You broke into that poor woman’s house and held her and her daughter at gunpoint! Shot that son of a bitch for what, defending his wife and daughter?”
Mira rolled her eyes, an amused smirk on her face. “Defending his wife and stepdaughter. Get it right, Bull.” She corrected him. “Besides, I was just trying to find information. We still have a mission.”
“You have a mission, I’m just forced along with you.” Bull groaned, grabbing a few napkins to clean some blood off of him. “You’re lucky I waited until the ambulance arrived, he would have been a goner. Then we’d really be in deep shit.”
“Geez, you’re acting like I shot a person, not a cop.” Mira laughed, as Bull looked at her.
“Mira. That’s not the point, the point is that if you keep pulling this shit, we’re gonna be the ones with a bounty on our heads.” Bull reminded her, prompting another eyeroll. He simply shook his head, deciding to change the subject. “Who’s this guy we’re after, anyway?”
Mira pulled out her phone, getting the picture. It was a portrait of a Korean man, wearing a black suit with red accents on his lapels, hair tied back in a half-down bun. “Miss Boss Lady said his name was Fearless. She told me he’s some kind of arms dealer.” Mira explained.
“And you believed her?” Bull asked, incredulous. Mira looked up at him, eyebrow cocked. Her lips were pursed in a huffy pout.
“Yes, because she’s trustworthy. I don’t think Miss Julia would lie to me.” Mira retorted, putting her phone down as Bull went back to trying to clean his shirt, looking around the room.
Bull looked up at her, noticing her looking over her shoulder. She had such a wistful look on her face, as if longing. He leaned slightly, seeing the couple she was staring at, right in the middle booth. He looked back at her, as if just deciding to let her stare.
“That's our guy?” Bull asked, breaking the silence. She turned her attention back to him, as if snapped out of a daze.
“Nah, don't look like him. The hair and clothes are all different. Besides, that one’s pregnant.” Mira dismissed, taking a sip of her drink.
Zack gulped, looking over at the two. Something about them….it was making his heart pulse. Their mouth began to water, quietly pushing past the table and heading into the restroom.
They shut the door, running his fingers through their hair. The disorientation was setting in, his knees becoming wobbly. Zack made their way into a stall, finally hurling straight into the bowl. They hugged it tightly, practically curled around it. They didn’t know how much time had passed, but he didn’t care. Zack gulped, their mouth still slightly moist.
The sound of gunshots was practically deafening, shocking Zack out of their stupor. He hurriedly got to their feet, stumbling slightly. He rushed out of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight in front of them.
Blood. Blood splattered upon the walls, the patrons and servers still alive hiding as best they could. The air was scented by gunfire and blood, Before him was the man and woman he was supposed to wait on, their backs to him. The woman’s gun was still smoking, the two staring down at the body at their feet.
“Jesus christ, Mira…” The man spoke, haunting concern in his voice. “You took out The Sutherland Twins in one blow…”
“....Who are they supposed to be?” The woman asked, cocking her head as she kicked the corpses before her. Her tone was so….casual. “Besides, they’re the ones who were dumb enough to hold a diner where bounty hunters eat hostage.” She shrugged off, before looking over her shoulder, going silent. Fuck. She had seen them.
The man turned around, his eyes locking with Zack’s. Zack gulped, heart pounding. Why were they feeling this? This didn’t feel like another attack…
“What do we do with them?” Mira spoke up, gesturing to Zack with her gun. “Kid’s probably gonna pin this on us.” She theorized, pulling her gun into a shooting position. Crap! They were gonna die, he knew it.
Bull placed his hand over her chest, prompting her to turn her gaze in confusion. “We take them with us.” He offered, turning his gaze to Zack.
“What?” Mira asked, face scrunched up, as if puzzled.
“He can’t tell the cops on us if he’s with us.” Bull explained. Mira looked at the ground for a moment, before gesturing her head, giving him the go ahead to grab Zack by the arm.
“W-Wait!” Zack mustered up, taken by surprise.
“Welcome aboard the Saint Maria, kid! Hope you’re tough enough!” Mira congratulated as she merrily gaited towards the entrance. Bull pulled Zack’s arm around his shoulder, hoisting him up to carry them out.
Zack stared in shock, looking through the diner as they were carried. Shit, he recognized a few regulars among the dead: Mustache Jackson. Earl Terpsichore. Bailey the Kid… No sign of Cowboy Andy though…
“W-Where’s that couple I gave the bread to?” Zack choked out, Mira looking back at him.
“Oh, the pregnant dude and his man? They left after you ran to the bathroom to do whatever, black dude got some kinda call. They were gone long before those tramps showed up.” Mira explained, shrugging her shoulders.
Zack felt his hands become clammy again, a lump forming in their throat. Shit… They breathed in, doing their best to remain calm. “Remember what you were told, remember….”
“10 and 2, 10 and 2, 10 and 2….”
-To be continued-