Chapter Text
June 4th, 1927
“Are you going to tell me what this plan is? I’m not a fan of… secrets I suppose.”
“Ah, but that would ruin the fun, dear cousin.”
“I’m risking my life for a drink. This isn’t fun.”
“Oh, but it’s more than a mere drink, young one. It’s a passageway to a fun, less dreary world, where anything-”
“I’ll stick to communion wine. What is the plan, Rocky?”
“Well that doesn’t eliminate the prospect. We happen to be picking up… communion wine from a Father Arbogast-”
“Damnit Rocky! Just tell me what the plan is!” He groaned glaring at his cousin. Calvin had had enough of his jokes, games, puns, and just about everything. “Let’s just get this over with so I can go home and be with Ivy. No tricks, no secrets. Deal?” He didn’t even know why he was asking. He had no reason to be cordial to Rocky, even if he did get him this job. If you could even call it that.
It took a moment for Rocky to respond, but Calvin just appreciated the silence. “...Deal. The plan involves a little something I kept from the visit to Mr. Sable’s quarry.”
“Why do all your plans involve explosives?” To that Calvin didn’t get an answer to. A few minutes would pass before Rocky finally unveiled the rest of the plan.
“I’ll light a fuse as a distraction, then you can steal the shipment!” Rocky gleamed in front of Calvin.
“That sounds risky… Very risky. But it’s better than killing yet another group of people.” While you just watch. He refrained from adding onto that, no matter how tempting. In all honesty, it’d gotten scary how little Rocky seemed to value life. His own, his cousins, and their adversaries. Calvin was no stranger to worrying for his cousin, but this? This was something new. Something he didn’t know how to help.
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By the time they got to the spot where the Arbogasts told him the Marigold’s would be, Calvin had already moved to the back of the truck, and was resting in the hay, looking at a picture of Ivy he’d kept. It was soothing to imagine their future life together, away from all of this. Even if it was likely it would never happen.
As the truck came to a stop, he stashed it back in his overcoat pocket, shared a glance with Rocky, and snuck into the bushes. He grasped the cold yet welcoming metal of the tommygun in his paws, its power and temptation creeping through his bones. But he had to remain calm. No matter how difficult it would be. He hated how good at it he was becoming.
As the mud finally got adjusted to his presence, he could hear the faint motor of a car approaching. It was them. Flashing a glance upward, he spotted a truck not to different from their own. Ok. Get up when they go towards the distraction, grab the booze, then run. That’s it. No bloodshed, no bodies, no bullets.
Right on queue, he heard a loud crack in the distance, followed by a flurry of booms. It seemed Rocky’s plan involved a little more explosives than he first let on. Within a few seconds, dozens of booms and cracks echoed through the air. He spotted movement, and apparently the plan was going accordingly. He wasn’t going to question why their first thoughts were to run towards the explosions rather than run away, but Calvin wasn’t complaining.
Once the two mobsters had passed him, he quietly snuck out to the truck they’d left, his paws an iron grip around his gun. It looked clear, so he hauled himself onto the truck. First, he spotted the prize. The liquid he’d killed for. He sighed.
Second, he spotted a third Marigold with a gun pointed directly at him. Panicking, he fired multiple rounds into him, neutralizing him. “Heh… Hahah… Hahaha! EHAHAHAHAAA!!” Jumping up to the top of the van, he unloaded his entire drum into the other two Marigolds as they ran back, before the laughing slowed down.
Then he realized what he’d done. He’d killed three people. And not one of them even fired back. Sure, he saw the first one pull the trigger, but his gun must’ve jammed. And it doesn’t change the fact that he killed them. Of course now he could see Rocky in the distance. He was waving. He was happy. He was proud of him for killing three people.
He sighed, looking down at the body beneath him. He grabbed him by the feet and dragged him off the truck to the side of the road, and rolled him into the brush. Then… he spotted something that fell out of the body’s pocket. A photo. Picking it up, it was a picture of the man he’d just killed and a woman… who looked pregnant.
I think I’m going to be sick- Too late. He threw up to the side, but something surprised him once he regained himself. Blood. In the barf. He was confused, but then felt a pain ebbing away at his side.
He’d been shot.