Dream ╬ 004
((And I'll stop spamming you guys for a bit, I swear.))
city pass payment 2/2 - takes place the night after this log
Despite the fact that Bat is passed out drunk while having this dream, the images and sound are far clearer than in his previous one.
A first, the viewer is witness to various flashing images - a young blond-haired boy grinning and blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, his first ride on a bicycle... And then darker - the hard crack of a palm against his face and the shadow of a man looming over him, fleeing down a city road in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small satchel...
Then brief flashes again of that same run from the cops in the previous dream...
He's sitting in a jail cell now - set for a good while if his jumpsuit is anything to go by. The sound of multiple footsteps approaching his cell causes him to look up and glare through the bars. A couple guards are approaching, and with them is an older woman he doesn't recognize. At her nod, one of the guards takes out his keys and begins opening the door. The blond prisoner gets to his feet, confused.
"Good afternoon, Bartholomew," she greeted him, stepping inside. The guards each have a hand on their belts, ready in case the young man tries to pull anything. "If you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you."
He snorted at this. "I dunno. I think my calendar's a bit full - too busy serving my time and all that. You'll have to come back later."
The woman ignored this comment and continued anyway. "You were a member of one of the local street gangs until your apprehension, am I correct?" She didn't wait for an answer. "My name is Margot Cuvier - Madame, if you prefer. Your friends ran off with something very important of mine. It's essential that this item be returned as soon as possible."
"Then you've come to the wrong person." Bartholomew flipped Madame Cuvier the bird with both hands. "I don't know where they went with it. And even if I did, I'm not a sellout."
"Despite the fact that they got you thrown in here to begin with?"
The teen just glared, and Cuvier knew she'd struck a nerve. She smiled in an unfriendly, knowing fashion.
"Bartholomew. Bart. All I need is an address. A meeting place. If you can give me that, then we can find them from there. If you do this for me, I'll see to it that you're taken out of this place."
He continued to stand in silence, watching her and the two guards at her side. He didn't trust this woman, but then he really didn't have any reason to stay loyal to those that had turned him in, either.
Finally, he sat back down with a long sigh. "There's a bridge down near North Street and Tuckson. They meet there twice a week." If they were smart, they wouldn't be meeting there anymore. Their leader never had been all that clever, though, so this Cuvier person might get lucky.
The woman nodded, already turning to leave. "Thank you. Your help is most appreciated."
"Fuck off."
--
It was a week later that the woman returned. With her were once again two guards (whether they were the same two or not he didn't bother to notice) and another young man in a jumpsuit like his own. Margot and the other teen entered the cell at the same time.
"Bart!" The former gang leader glared at the blond. "You can't stick me in here with him!" he spun back to the woman. "He's a fucking traitor!"
"The pot shouldn't call the kettle black, Marcus. He won't be staying anyway." As she spoke, the two guards stepped forward and took the blond by each arm. "I told you I'd see you out of here, didn't I? Your information was accurate, and Marcus here will be taking your place."
"Bastard!" the boy growled. Bart just smirked over his shoulder as he was escorted out of the building.
Something seemed wrong, however. He'd been cuffed as he was brought out, and those cuffs hadn't been removed yet. Wasn't there some sort of procedure he had to go through? As he was taken out a back door and towards a rather suspicious looking van, his fears only worsened. "Where are you taking me," he asked. "I thought you said you were letting me go!"
"I never said that." Cuvier returned his hateful gaze with a calm one of her own. "I said I would remove you from that prison. You'll be taken to a more secure facility - one run by my own people."
"Like hell I will!"
At this point, Bart was being escorted by only a single guard. He brought his foot down hard on the man's foot, causing him to cry out in pain and allowing him to pull free of the man's grip. Though it was difficult to run properly with his hands still cuffed behind him, the teen stumbled away and immediately attempted to flee the grounds. He was already outside the prison compound. If he could get around the corner of the wall and out of eyesight--
A single gunshot ran out, echoing off the prison walls, and the dream came to an abrupt end.
------------
Bat jerks awake with a gasp and immediately regrets it, rolling over onto his stomach and moaning into the single throw pillow under his head. He's laying on the floor in the sideroom in Nectar, and he's hungover like hell. He mutters something that's difficult to make out but sounds suspiciously like motherfuck before managing to get one eye open a crack.
"Min... MINATSUKI! ...Nngh... Shit."
city pass payment 2/2 - takes place the night after this log
Despite the fact that Bat is passed out drunk while having this dream, the images and sound are far clearer than in his previous one.
A first, the viewer is witness to various flashing images - a young blond-haired boy grinning and blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, his first ride on a bicycle... And then darker - the hard crack of a palm against his face and the shadow of a man looming over him, fleeing down a city road in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small satchel...
Then brief flashes again of that same run from the cops in the previous dream...
He's sitting in a jail cell now - set for a good while if his jumpsuit is anything to go by. The sound of multiple footsteps approaching his cell causes him to look up and glare through the bars. A couple guards are approaching, and with them is an older woman he doesn't recognize. At her nod, one of the guards takes out his keys and begins opening the door. The blond prisoner gets to his feet, confused.
"Good afternoon, Bartholomew," she greeted him, stepping inside. The guards each have a hand on their belts, ready in case the young man tries to pull anything. "If you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you."
He snorted at this. "I dunno. I think my calendar's a bit full - too busy serving my time and all that. You'll have to come back later."
The woman ignored this comment and continued anyway. "You were a member of one of the local street gangs until your apprehension, am I correct?" She didn't wait for an answer. "My name is Margot Cuvier - Madame, if you prefer. Your friends ran off with something very important of mine. It's essential that this item be returned as soon as possible."
"Then you've come to the wrong person." Bartholomew flipped Madame Cuvier the bird with both hands. "I don't know where they went with it. And even if I did, I'm not a sellout."
"Despite the fact that they got you thrown in here to begin with?"
The teen just glared, and Cuvier knew she'd struck a nerve. She smiled in an unfriendly, knowing fashion.
"Bartholomew. Bart. All I need is an address. A meeting place. If you can give me that, then we can find them from there. If you do this for me, I'll see to it that you're taken out of this place."
He continued to stand in silence, watching her and the two guards at her side. He didn't trust this woman, but then he really didn't have any reason to stay loyal to those that had turned him in, either.
Finally, he sat back down with a long sigh. "There's a bridge down near North Street and Tuckson. They meet there twice a week." If they were smart, they wouldn't be meeting there anymore. Their leader never had been all that clever, though, so this Cuvier person might get lucky.
The woman nodded, already turning to leave. "Thank you. Your help is most appreciated."
"Fuck off."
--
It was a week later that the woman returned. With her were once again two guards (whether they were the same two or not he didn't bother to notice) and another young man in a jumpsuit like his own. Margot and the other teen entered the cell at the same time.
"Bart!" The former gang leader glared at the blond. "You can't stick me in here with him!" he spun back to the woman. "He's a fucking traitor!"
"The pot shouldn't call the kettle black, Marcus. He won't be staying anyway." As she spoke, the two guards stepped forward and took the blond by each arm. "I told you I'd see you out of here, didn't I? Your information was accurate, and Marcus here will be taking your place."
"Bastard!" the boy growled. Bart just smirked over his shoulder as he was escorted out of the building.
Something seemed wrong, however. He'd been cuffed as he was brought out, and those cuffs hadn't been removed yet. Wasn't there some sort of procedure he had to go through? As he was taken out a back door and towards a rather suspicious looking van, his fears only worsened. "Where are you taking me," he asked. "I thought you said you were letting me go!"
"I never said that." Cuvier returned his hateful gaze with a calm one of her own. "I said I would remove you from that prison. You'll be taken to a more secure facility - one run by my own people."
"Like hell I will!"
At this point, Bart was being escorted by only a single guard. He brought his foot down hard on the man's foot, causing him to cry out in pain and allowing him to pull free of the man's grip. Though it was difficult to run properly with his hands still cuffed behind him, the teen stumbled away and immediately attempted to flee the grounds. He was already outside the prison compound. If he could get around the corner of the wall and out of eyesight--
A single gunshot ran out, echoing off the prison walls, and the dream came to an abrupt end.
------------
Bat jerks awake with a gasp and immediately regrets it, rolling over onto his stomach and moaning into the single throw pillow under his head. He's laying on the floor in the sideroom in Nectar, and he's hungover like hell. He mutters something that's difficult to make out but sounds suspiciously like motherfuck before managing to get one eye open a crack.
"Min... MINATSUKI! ...Nngh... Shit."