Half baked in the AM

[logan]

This ain’t a scene; it’s a goddamn arms race!

True, it wasn’t the most adult of ring tones that an old fogey like him could have chosen for his beat up cell phone, but it was just oh-so-true, now wasn’t it?

And the little added bit in the beginning; “I am an arms dealer…with weapons in the form of words”? It was enough to send him into fits of laughter every time he heard it. Damn the kid down the street for blasting the bit when he was over visiting his lonely little house on the beach. For two weeks now, it had been roaming around the dusty confines of his mind, making a happy little home in his subconscious. And now, as if answering the call of some higher power, he’d equipped his constantly ringing phone with the tune, as if he never wanted it to disperse.

Yeah, that, or he was finally going completely insane. The next thing he knew, he’d be printing out the lyrics and pasting them to his body.

Flipping open the phone, the man sighed into the receiver; his usual greeting. There were only three people that had the caller ID that he’d seen, and they knew better than to expect some chirpy ‘hello!’ from him.

“Yo, Lo'!” Tick Tock- not his true name, obviously, but really did fit his persona; Tick Tock the Time Bomb, resident psychopath, but a whiz at finding certain furry bad guys- crowed, causing the older man to wince. “Whattup my homie?”

“Why won’t you just die and leave me alone?” Came the growled answer as calloused hands ran themselves through dirty blond hair speckled with traces of grey. As a ‘proud’ member of the'nearing the big 5-0 club', grey was supposedly his friend.

As well as the container of dye, but that was for later. If he friggin remembered to bring it into the shower with him this time.

“Now, is that nice? Here I am, being perky for the both of us, and you go all rabid on me. Not cool, Lo’. Definitely not cool.”

“I laugh at your displeasure. Ha. Haha.”

As if putting thought to action, the strange man began snorting into the phone. Stopping as a stop light blinked sleepily ‘STOP FOR GAWDSAKES!’, as if invisible traffic were scrambling for a taste of his flesh, he leaned sideways against a lamppost. His gaunt features seemed to fade back into the solid, dark hues of his clothing. Simple dusky jeans, a black button up shirt and a very worn leather jacket completed the outfit, and a ‘why are you talking to me?’ scowl, leafy green eyes and very rumpled pelt completed the man.

Logan Moretti was a veteran of just about everything, and not-so-happy about it, thank you very much. So when he heard some kid claiming that he wasn’t nice because he didn’t gush into a cell phone? He released that rusty little laugh of his, and bared his teeth at nothing.

Ha. Hahaha.

As he listened to the youthful voice prattle off about manners and his lack thereof, he contented himself by glaring at whatever God was currently looking down at him, laughing Its head clean off. Then, pausing in mid-step, he turned his face up to the sky as a familiar scent assailed him.

Coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee.

Like a bloodhound picking up a scent, he turned abruptly into a café on the side of the street.

“But anyway, Lo, I’ve got another job lined up for you.” Tick Tock went on, oblivious.

“Do you now? I told you, I’m already working on a few leads already. If your 'job' has anything to do with a group of lonely housewives who think they've seen a 'big black dog' in their front yard, I’m not interested. I like to earn my paychecks, Ticky. I don't scam people for money like you.”

A snicker of amusement came through the line, making his eyebrow twitch. “This, I think, you might like, Pops. We’ve got some very deep shiznat happening down here. Things that you might be very interested in.” And he proceeded to describe his newest job.

…And Logan was interested. So interested, in fact, that he careened into the counter with a squawked “WHAT?!”, thus scaring his fellow patrons and the poor girl behind the coffee counter.

Great, just what he needed; the coffee-people calling the guys at the funny farm. Gah, he hated technology. In order to save his pride and not start beating at the counter with his phone until the poor thing cracked and screamed for mercy, he quickly ducked his head, curtly ordered his usual black with three sugars, and sat down quickly at a table facing the door. Old habits and all that. A deep chested rumble bursted from him. If only he could reach through the phone…

Fuck. And there he’d gone and thought he’d actually have a nice, relaxing break from daily life. He’d even gone and stocked up his fridge with beer, feeling like he were on leave for the day and loving it.

Life really was a'goddamn arms race.' Maybe it would stop if he finally put a bullet in his damn brainpan.

[/blockquote]

[Alexis Reese James]

It had to be way to damned early in the morning to be feeling this detached from the world.

Unable to sleep and feeling restless, Lexi Blair had thrown on a worn pair of jeans and taken the Aston Martin out for a drive for the first time in ten years. Since the day that it had been brought home without her husband inside, to be exact. It hadn't been a conscious decision but..This morning ... it had just seemed like the right thing to do and the keys had been in her hand before she'd even realized it.

Once behind the wheel, the feeling of restlessness had eased slightly and she'd been able to focus on her inner conflicts a bit more clearly. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she'd allowed her life to go stag net. For so long, she'd lived for first her club, then her husband and then her kids.

Now, all those things were gone and she felt empty inside.

Oh sure, in other peoples eyes, she had the story book life. In many ways, she had a full, magical run but lately.. She'd just felt like something was lacking. As if she were only treading water in an ocean filled with opportunities if she could only bring herself to reach for them.

What exactly it was that she wanted to reach for was the problem though. She had NO clue why she felt as if she were drowning in waves of monotony but thats just what was happening. Somehow... At some point in time... She'd simply quit living and had started merely existing.

As that realization dawned, Lexi frowned and turned into the parking lot of one of her favorite coffee shops. Flipping her shades up on the top of her blond head, the still stunningly beautiful blond got out of the car and headed inside. So focus on her inner delimas, she totally missed the sight of a dark figure slinking around the edge of the building and entering after her.

Right up to the moment when something jabbed her in the back and shrill screams of alarm started resounding through the coffee shop.


"THIS IS A HOLD UP!! EVERYONE KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM AND THE BROAD DOESN"T GET A BULLET IN HER BACK!"

"Good lord.." Lexi thought to herself even as she sighed and got a put upon expression on her face. "Can't these idiots come up with anything more.... Original?"

However, she didn't say that out loud as she slowly raised her arms and tried to come up with a way out of this.

[logan]

With a martyred sigh, Logan plopped down onto an empty chair and put one booted foot up, ignoring the glares from the tables around him. Ticky was still chattering in his ear, giving him the ‘skinny’ about some rampant Were down in Chicago, and the Hunter couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course, when he was finally giving himself a bit of down time to assess his life choices, there had to be some kind of catastrophic emergency that needed his goddamn time and effort. Was it too much to ask to allow him to enjoy his goddamn coffee? Or to give him one relaxing morning?

He asked the man on the other end just that, and rolled his eyes once again when the younger man proceeded to yammer on about lives being lost, and possible marks being shook down for ‘his bill.’ Served him goddamn right for getting involved with a psycho, when he’d decided to go after the monsters that bumped the goddamn night.

Deep breaths, Moretti, he told himself with another sigh. He rubbed at his eyes as he put the cell phone down onto the table, the sounds of Ticky chattering echoing in the silence around him. The coffee was sweet and slid onto his tongue; sex via caffeine. The Hunter chuckled at the thought. Yeah, like he was one to judge THAT particular activity, given his bleacher-status—

Before he could do any more soul searching, an angry voice rang through the café, and Logan snapped to attention. It wasn’t a Were trying to make lunch out of the pretty blond in the doorway, or some other supernatural baddy doing its best to draw innocent attention to itself…but rather a human doing HIS best to fuck up and already fuck-tastic day.

Awesome. Wonderful. Fantastic.
FUCK, he hated his goddamn life sometimes.

Though, his situation wasn’t nearly as bad as the woman’s was. Something akin to amusement shot through him as he recognized a martyred expression on the stranger’s face, and slowly, keeping his hands where the guy could see them, he rose from his chair. Ticky’s shrill voice was still yammering on from the phone at his hand, but he ignored it in favor of the gun-wielding moron at the door.

“Hey there, you don’t need to be doin’ this,” He said slowly, accent a bit thick with adrenaline. His fingers practically twitched for the gun hidden inside his jacket, but he ignored it. “Just let the lady go, and take what you want. Nobody in here’s gonna stop you,”

Or, at least, he fucking hoped not, the Hunter thought with a little grimace at the woman behind the counter, who looked like she were about to wet herself.

[/blockquote]