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Out of the kindness of their hearts, Rasa and Lima have decided to treat their agents to a day on the town. Four of the five crews packed into Lima's designated van, the Lu$h crew had politely declined the van ride and took Angel's car.
“Jesus, look at these clowns…” Rasa snickers.
“Who?” Lima asks stepping out of the passenger side.
He points to the three decently famous rockers lounging near a black F-150 a few parking spaces away.
“Dude, do not let him kick you in the balls,” chuckles a blonde woman with a Budweiser in her hand.
Glitch stares at the woman, a slender figure clad in a black bra and leather pants, black boots with her left wrapped with two diamond-studded bands, and a black choker necklace. Arched cleverly above her navel was the tattooed word “Electric.” Mo notices the younger boy's comically large heart eyes and snorts.
"I'm gonna be fine, Casey, I got balls of steel!"
Emilia's eyes widen, “Holy shit is that…”
“Whoa,” her equally starstruck partner whispers. “Yeah, that's them alright.”
The woman playfully hurls the empty can at the punk's strangely shaped head. In an instant, the muscular, yet proportionately challenged man with long brown hair propels his boot into the punk's groin.
"WHAT THE FUCK, AXEL?!?" the kneeling punk cradling his injured genitals cries.
“What are you yelling for, dude? You told me to kick you in the nuts.”
This earns a boisterous round of “Oohs” with additional laughter from the more humorous dancers at the bruising of the green-haired punk's balls.
"R.I.P. to your kids, bro!" Glitch roars while leaning on the wheezing Mo's shoulder.
"Don't encourage them!" Lima scolds, effectively putting an end to the giggling. Rasa steps in and lifts the British man off the concrete. "Sir, are you alright?"
"Oh, yeah. I've never felt better!" The punk scoffs sarcastically in a noticeably higher-pitched voice. "My fuckin' nads’ve been annihilated." This earns him some offended looks, most noticeably from Lima. Rasa, calm as ever, only releases the Brit and readjusts the collar of his dress shirt.
"No need to call an ambulance or anything. He'll probably just beat the medics to death." Casey blankly informs them.
"It's true." his assailant enthusiastically chimes in. "He OD'd in Toronto a few weeks ago and when he got wheeled from backstage, the motherfucker just started throwin' haymakers at the medics, while unconscious! It was wild, man."
MacCoy turns to Dare. "Didn't you do something like that back in high school?"
She smiles, reminiscent of her high school days, mostly spent partying. "What can I say? Anyone who stands in the way of me and doner kabobs can expect a rain boot to the face.”
Confusion and a newfound willingness to rush into that movie theater and away from this mess intensified within the agents. But as if things couldn't get any more chaotic, a beat-up red pickup swerves in and out jumps a rugged, balding man with a soiled white V-neck and dark gray track pants.
"There you are you skinny piece of shit! You had a loooot of fun in Toronto, so I've heard."
"Go fuck yourself, Trevor! You shouldn't have left that bag of coke unattended!"
Trevor exaggeratedly gasps. "Language, young man, there are children present." he hisses, pointing at the two younger dancers.
“Keep fucking with me, Trevor,” the punk growls as he unsheaths his pocket knife, “and those kids will see how much blood I can spill on this sidewalk!”
Glitch and Li’l T share frightened looks as Taye and Mo order their younger crew members to go into the theater, in which they oblige. D-Coy follows behind them.
Trevor stomps to Johnny but before he could drive the knife into the tough Sandy Shores native, Trevor trips him and swiftly knocks the Brit back to the hard concrete via armbar.
“Johnny, just pay the guy,” Axel says, his worry starting to show.
Casey rolls her eyes and walks up to the belligerent Canadian, pulling out her wallet. Trevor’s face somewhat softens by the gesture, but he tells her: “I don't need your money, sweetheart, I need this kid’s money.”
Shrugging, she walks back to her truck. Axel is shocked by her indifference to his friend’s current situation.
“You’re just gonna leave us here?”
“Yep, I’ve had about enough of this bullshit.”
Axel is insulted, “Well screw you then!”
Casey speeds out of the parking lot, leaving the two guitarists without a ride and with the mentally unstable drug dealer.
"C'mon guys," Rasa says, an evident desire to get away from this mess written all over his face, "the movie starts in twenty minutes."
“But we wanted autographs…” Bodie and Emilia moan.
Taye groans. “We don't have time for this! Those lines look stupid long and I don't know about y'all, but I don't want to get killed!”
They all agree and scurry into the theater. As Taye said, the lines were incredibly long and slow because there were only two visibly stressed workers serving the four lines.
In the screening room, Angel checks his watch. "Where is everyone? Lima sent me a message thirty minutes ago saying they were almost here."
"They probably stopped at McDonald's or something. You know how iffy people are about prices these days."
"Things are much more expensive now, querida. Not everyone can afford a yacht, y'know?"
"Keep up the back talk and I'll personally throw you off said yacht, kay?"
For the first time in his life, Angel kept his mouth shut.
Eventually, the dancers got their share of overpriced snacks (all of which Rasa paid for) and, for better or worse, skipped every single trailer before rushing to Screen 5. They find Lu$h and take their seats near the top, nearly filling the 15-seat row.
The movie itself was enjoyable for some, cringeworthy for others, but a sense of camaraderie was strong within the troupes, so it was all worthwhile. The ride back to headquarters was somewhat tense, though. Everyone, to some degree, was disturbed by the previous encounter with the punk, the rockers, and the Canadian. To ease this tension was Glitch’s sole intention, so, he calls out to Lima.
“Can we turn on some music? It's kinda quiet.”
She agrees, as neither she nor Rasa had turned the radio on.
”Sure, what do you have in mind?”
The boy grins a mischievous grin and asks, ”Can we play Yuno Miles?”
The response from almost everyone in the van was:
“NO!”
No one seemed to notice the mysterious blood stain on the front bumper.