Dave Nicolson and Roberson McGranth
“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” a slim, almost bony man chuckled. Rocking his bald head back and forth, he grinned all while humming a song. Name: Another One Bites The Dust. Artist: Queen. Released: 22 August 1980
“Hey, quit it. Took us the whole damn night to search for the fucker, no way in hell we’re gonna let him slip.” a bigger, tougher man replied. Curly brown hair, thick mustache and muscles so grand they could crush a can... he was not to be messed with.
“I hate to break it to ya, but you done fucked it up boy. Big time. Bravo.” the slim man added, his rotting teeth showing as his smile widened. The tough guy wasn't having any of that shit this time.
“Shut up Dave.” he grunted.
“Hello.” Dave responded.
“I said shut up.”
“Can I sing a song?” he chuckled.
“Oh god, not again…” the tough man moaned.
“Thank 2 U Robbee.” he snickered.
“ It’s Roberson you twat.” the tough man groaned.
“Yes, yes, yes…” he nodded.
“Good, now shut up.”
But Dave would have none of it. Immediately, he began to hum yet another song. Name: My Heart Will Go On. Artist: Celine Dion. Release: There is no release for your soul. Before Rob's eyes could widen in horror, the all too familiar beginning began.
“Every night in my drea-“
He roared.
“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT CAN YOU SHUT YOUR SHITTING TRAP!?”
“H-hey… sorry.” Dave apologised, looking down on the driver's wheel.
Silence.
“No. It’s… alright. I’m sorry.”
Silence.
“It’s your wife isn’t it?” asked David, looking around nonchalantly as the car stopped at an intersection.
“What!?”
“She filed it, didn’t she?”
“Filed what?” asked Roberson, his eyes narrowing as his voice grew more and more coarse.
“The divorce, dammit.” The thin man sighed. Immeidately, the big guy's face fell flat. Mumbling, he shook his head in denial.
“N-no! Why the fuck would you say that?”
“The whole team knows ‘bout it, sir…” David muttered, his tone more deadpan and serious than ever before.
A silence.
“You shitting me?” Roberson groaned, his face twisting in something that looked both pained, surprised and sad. But mostly sad.
“I wouldn’t shit about this shit, sir.” said Dave. The road seemed to grow longer despite the car going forward. Even the sun seemed to grow dimmer. A silence.
“GODDAMMIT!” A roar interrupted the silence. Perpetrator: Roberson. Victim: Every passerby nearby. Witness: one does not leave witnesses.
Silence.
“Did she get the kids too?” asked David, a sad look on his own face. It was strange, but it was as if the cheerful persona of earlier was gone.
Roberson's face turned livid. A mere grunt escaped him, but it was enough.
Silence.
“Oh. Um… sorry.”
“Just shut up and drive.” grunts Roberson.
“H-hey. Look at the bright si-" Dave tried to lighten up the mood. He fails, and is interrupted. Roberson grows moodier.
"...shut up."
“Woah woah, I’m sorry, ok!? I…” Strike two, he tried again. He failed again.
“Shut. Up.”
“I said I was sorr-“ Strike 3, out. There comes a shrilling cry, like a gutted pig. If you've never gutted a pig, you wouldn't know what one sounded like until hearing Roberson's cry.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP AND FOR THE LAST TIME, SHUT UP! I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS ABOUT YOUR STUPID SONGS, YOUR SHITTY JOKES OR YOUR GODDAMN SEX LIFE. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU WHAT YOU THINK! NO ONE DOES! NO. ONE. JUST SHUT UP AND DO YOUR DAMN JOB” roars Roberson. His face: red. State of mind: enraged.
A long silence, the police car shook about and drift away. Roberson's seething soothed away. Roberson's state: now looking at the driver's seat. l Driver's seat state: clean, fuzzy, comfortable. Driver's state: sad. Tears rolling down his cheeks, Dave trembled. For a second, one could have heard a whimper.
Roberson looked worried, his face was full of worry. The times he saw Dave in such a state were equal to the times he didn't trim his mustache. Zero.
“Hey…”
“WELL FINE! GO FUCK YOURSELF TOO, SIR!” Dave roars. The prey becomes predator.
“...what?” asked Roberson, a puzzled look spreading across his face, like his wife's legs towards that bastard.
“YOU SURE AS HELL KNOW YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, AND WE ARE A BLOODY TEAM! We should be helping each other trough shit like this!” Dave yells, his voice shaking as much as his body. Even so, he never once turned back, his face focusing forward, to where he was driving.
“…You’re not making any sense.” said Roberson.
“She ain’t got much longer.” Dave responded, whispering weakly before crying.
“What did you say?” asked Roberson. He did not hear it well, or rather, wished he hadn't.
“I SAID SHE AIN’T GOT MUCH LONGER FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Dave screams, his fist hitting the driver's wheel.
“Woah, woah. What’s…”
“Cancer.” says Dave, looking down yet still observing the road. His body stopped shaking.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“How bad?”
“Very.” Dave responds.
Another silence.
“My sympathies.”
“Shut up.”
ANother silence. The car stops again.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is everything to me.”
“…I know.”
Silence.
“Yesterday… she asked me to stay with her a bit longer. It got late, the usual routine. I turn around, and I see her sobbin’ in her own bed. I ask what’s wrong, and she looks at me. The saddest face you could ever see, right there. It was just heartwrenching…”
Silence, again.
“Then, she holds my hand. I already felt something was wrong, bu-"
“Sorry." Roberson apologised, his voice as melancolical as it could be.
“OH? Now you are sorry!? You sure as hell weren’t sorry yesterday!”
“I-”
“Spend the whole bloody day on your cranky ass, groan about how much of a cunt your wife is. You keep bitching and moaning about every single one of your problems. WELL, FUCK YOU TOO ROB!”
Silence.
“It’s not… it’s not like you’re the only one with problems.” Dave whimpered.
The silence went on, the car drove across the street. Silently.
“I’m…”
Silence.
“I apologize. Sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” said Roberson
Another silence.
“You know, when you talked about us being a team-“
“Please, be quiet.” Dave interrupted. He would have no more of it.
Now, the car was as quiet as lady death. In the back stood three men. Two were police guards, one was Lorenzo. The three were crying.
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Lorenzo Remei
Held by multiple officers, Lorenzo was restrained from head to toe. He was now in a strange room, benches nearby. Even if a mask prevented his beautiful face from being seen, he could still talk. And his pretty voice would surely be enough.
Glancing around, he saw a rather charming lady. Smiling (even if there was no way she could tell), he waved (Hellooo? He is restrained?).
"Heyo!" said Lorenzo, mantaining a rather cheerful tone.
