#I get to play Elmer in d&d again tomorrow so I will probably do a couple of Elmer replies tonight in prep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Text

Fugitives- Chap 6

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Warnings: D E A T H (someone is shot and killed, yeet), drug mention

Ship: Eventual Ralbert

I’m so so so sorry

Albert was awoken a few hours later to the sounds of people arguing on the other side of the shower curtain. He kept his eyes shut as he strained his ears, trying to catch what the voices were saying.

��You let someone walk away?” Whispered a voice that Albert recognized as Jack’s.

“He promised he wouldn’t run his mouth,” Came Race’s reply.

“Of course he promised, Antonio,” Came another, exasperated voice, “Anyone would promise that if you shot a gun at their wall and threatened to kill them.”

“Davey’s right,” Jack said, “I can’t believe you, Race.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Race exclaimed defensively.

“Kill him, Racetrack,” Jack said, his voice was gaining volume, “You were supposed to kill him.”

“Jack Kelly, you know that I can’t fucking-”

“Yes, I’ve fucking heard it. I’ve heard a million times that you won’t fucking kill anyone else,” Jack was speaking loudly now, “I don’t know what happened to you in Prospect. I don’t know what part you played in Rockefeller, but you’re going to have to get the fuck over it one day, because in this fucking life, you’re gonna have to kill a few people and-”

“Shut up, Jack!” Race shouted, “Shut the fuck up. I know that I’m gonna have to kill a few people. Hell, you’ve made me kill a few people, but don’t fucking talk to me about Rockefeller. Don’t ever bring that up, asshole, there’s a fucking reason I don’t talk about it.” Race’s breath hitched after the last sentence.

“Both of you quiet down, you’re going to wake people up,” The other man, Davey, scolded, “Jack, leave his past out of this. Race, take a deep breath. We’re going to have to think about how to deal with Albert’s roommate, but for now, I think that it would be best if we all just got some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack mumbled.

“Thank you,” Davey said, “Race?”

Albert heard Race take a measured breath, “Okay,” he answered, voice strained.

“Good, get some sleep, Race,” Davey instructed, “Jack, c’mon.”

Albert cracked an eye open, watching as two silhouettes walked to the other side of the theatre. He saw Race’s shadow pacing back and forth behind the curtain a few times, before he sat down on his cot. It looked like he was holding his head in his hands.

Albert felt worry claw at his gut. What were they planning to do to Elmer? He had half a thought to send a warning text to him, but didn’t want to find out the repercussions if Jack found out he’d contacted him. Maybe they weren’t going to kill him, maybe they were just going to recruit Elmer like they’d done with him. Logically, Albert knew that wasn’t the case.

Albert let out a frustrated sigh and reached under his pillow to grab his phone. It was nearly 6:00 am, so Elmer would be waking up within the hour to go to his morning shift at the coffee shop he worked at.

Albert clicked into his and Elmer’s texts and bit his lip, trying to decide how to word his message.

To Elmer: Bro, do me a fat favor and stay at your girl’s place for a few days. Don’t ask questions. I’m handling it. Just don’t go back to our place and never go anywhere alone.

He hovered his thumb over the send button for a few moments, then delivered it. Elmer was no doubt going to ask questions anyway, but it was worth a shot. He deleted their conversation and slid his phone back under his pillow. Rolling over, he noticed that Race was no longer sitting on his cot. In fact, it didn’t look like he was on his side of the wing at all. Albert frowned and lifted his head, glancing around the parts of the theatre that he could see, but there was no sign of Race anywhere. He got up, curiosity getting the better of him. Carefully, he drew back the curtain separating his and Race’s side, eyes sweeping the dark area. At first he didn’t see anything, then he noticed Race sitting on the ground in front of his cot.

“You okay?” He whispered, causing Race to jump violently and turn around.

His face was lined with tear tracks, which he hastily wiped away with his shirt sleeve, “What the fuck? How long’ve you been awake?”

Albert shrugged, “Not too long.”

Race stood, then sat down on his cot, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked tired, “Did you hear anything?”

Albert considered telling him what he had witnessed of his conversation with Jack and Davey, but thought against it, “Nothing besides you moving around.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah..”

“Sorry for waking you.”

Albert waved a hand nonchalantly, “You didn’t, I’m a light sleeper.”

Race sniffed and lowered his chin to rest on his knees, “What do you want?”

Albert glanced down, suddenly feeling guilty for invading what was obviously a very personal moment for Race, “Uh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Race scowled, “Well, I’m fine. Why do you care anyway? I’ve been pretty terrible to you.”

“I was just curious, man-” They both startled when Albert’s phone began buzzing.

Race raised his eyebrows, “You better go get that before Jack or Davey hears. They’re really strict about phones and who we’re all contacting.”

Albert huffed and let the curtain fall back into place, once again separating himself from Race. He took his phone from under his pillow to see that Elmer was calling him. He quickly declined the call and clicked into his texts.

To Elmer: No calling. Just text.

From Elmer: Where the fuck are you man???? What the fuck happened yesterday??? Are you alive?????

To Elmer: Of course I’m alive, numbnuts. I can’t tell you where I am and I can’t tell you what was happening yesterday, but you’re kinda in danger so…

From Elmer: BUdDY you can’t say all this shit without an explanation. I’m freaking the fuck out

To Elmer: Believe me, I am too. Listen, please just trust me. Where are you right now? From Elmer: Sarah’s

Albert slumped onto his cot, relief flooding his system. Elmer was safe at his girlfriend’s place, far from their apartment.

To Elmer: Thank fuck, okay. Maybe don’t go to work tomorrow. Or move to China and change your name. Idc, just please look out for yourself. Also delete this convo

From Elmer: Albert what the fuck

To Elmer: I’m sorry. I gotta go. Remember to delete this. I’ll talk to you when I can

From Elmer: Jfc ok bye

Albert erased his messages once more and laid back against his pillows. He scrolled through Instagram mindlessly, trying in vain to get tired again. It was nearing 7:00 am, so he assumed he’d have to be up soon anyway. Eventually, he dozed off, phone still in hand.

XXX

“The fuck?” Albert yelped as his pillow was yanked out from under his head.

“Rise and shine, bitchatcho.”

Albert looked up to see Race hovering over him, pillow in hand.

“What time s’it?” He asked, voice still thick with sleep.

“Like, 8:00 am,” Race thwacked Albert violently with the pillow, ”We gotta long day ahead of us, so get the fuck up.”

Albert glared at him for a long moment before reluctantly sitting up, “Fine, give me like, ten minutes to change and take a piss.”

“Awesome, meet me downstairs by the storage room when you’re.”

Albert gave him a sarcastic thumbs up and watched as Race left the stage. He pulled his jeans out from under his cot and changed into them, then went to the dressing rooms to use the bathroom. On his way downstairs, he stopped by his bin and took out a sweatshirt, yanking it over his head as he bounded down the stairs.

As promised, Race was waiting outside the storage room, eating a banana. There were two other men with him, one sporting a backwards hat over his curly brown hair and the other leaning heavily on a crutch.

“Heya, Albert,” Race greeted, “Meet Finch and Crutchie.”

The one with a crutchie leaned forward, offering a hand, “As you can probably gather, outta the two of us, I’m Crutchie. I’m Empire’s medic, so if you’re aboutta die or some shit, I’ll patch you up.”

“Uh, sounds good,” Albert said, shaking Crutchie’s hand. He turned to the guy in the backwards hat, “And what about you?”

“Finch,” The guy grunted.

Albert cocked his head and looked at Race, who flicked the guy in the back of the head, “Sorry about him, he’s bitter. That’s Finch. He’s our botanist.”

“Botanist?”

“I run our drug inventory,” Finch said, toying with a cigarette and looking entirely uninterested.

“Cool, uh, nice to meet you..” Finch scanned his eyes over Albert, who crossed his arms self-consciously.

“Likewise.”

“Well, this is cozy,” Crutchie said brightly, “Anyway, I leave you all to your work. Just thought I’d introduce myself. Toodles!” He waved and hobbled away.

“You gotta key, Finchy?” Race asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Finch said, fishing a key out of his jacket pocket and unlocking the storage room door.

“Oh yeah,” Race said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out another banana, “Here, before I forget it’s in there and sit on it.” he handed the banana to Albert, who hesitantly took it.

“I didn’t poison it or some shit,” Race laughed, “Just thought you’d be hungry.”

Albert wordlessly peeled the banana and took a bite, realizing belatedly how hungry he was.

“Race,” Finch called from inside the storage room, “What do you need?”

“Uh, get me like, two grams of pot? And...I think that’s it. It’s a small trade.”

“Kay,” Finch emerged a moment later holding a white paper bag. He handed it to Race who crumpled it and put it into his jacket pocket.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Higgins,” Finch held out a hand, “Give me the bag back.”

Race rolled his eyes and shoved the bag into Finch’s outstretched palm. Finch held his glare as he neatly folded the bag over a few times, then handed it back to Race, who carefully placed it back into his pocket.

“Happy?” Race jeered.

“Extremely,” Finch answered with a fake smile, “We done here? I would like to get coffee now.”

“Yes, we’re done, go get your bean juice.”

Finch sneered and walked away, disappearing up the stairs.

“He’s really fucking meticulous about his drugs,” Race said, zipping up his jacket.

“Meticulous,” Albert repeated, “Didn’t peg you for a fifty-cent-word kinda guy.”

“Shut up, I went to high school. I glanced at all the SAT words.”

“Oh, did you? So what does brevity mean?”

“Uhhhhhhh..” Race screwed up his face in thought, “I said I glanced, dude. That doesn’t mean I retained any actual knowledge.”

“Brevity’s easy. It’s the quality of being brief or terse.”

“Albert, have I told you you’re annoying yet?”

“Many times.”

“Okay, you’re annoying. Now c’mon, The Bronx is waiting.”

XXX

The bleak winter air bit Albert’s face as he and Race left The Bowery. As they walked through the street toward the nearest subway station, Albert couldn’t help but notice the strange feeling that nagged at the back of his neck. The streets felt almost different, like they were hiding some enormous monster underneath them. The ever-existing presence of Empire and Prospect loomed ominously over Race and Albert, blind to the eyes of other pedestrians. He felt incredibly vulnerable, constantly paying mind to who was paying attention to them. Anyone at any time could be a threat- there was no telling who knew what.

They caught the yellow line that would take them to The Bronx, where they were scheduled to trade with some guy in Fordham at 9:30. It was currently 8:15 and the ride was supposed to take about forty-five minutes, leaving Albert wishing he had his headphones so he could disengage completely.

“You nervous at all?” Race’s question surprised Albert, and he turned to him

“Kinda, I guess? How exactly does a trade work?”

“First off, for the love of God, lower your voice,” Race said, leaning in so that they could talk in quieter voices, “And it’s pretty simple. You missed phase one, which is deciding a meet place and trade time. We do that using the graffiti, which I’ve already told you about. One of these days, I’ll show you the symbols we use and what they mean, but that’s not important right now. So now, we just have to be at the coordinated location and make sure he actually has the cash he promised. If he does, we trade, plain and easy.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Race glanced to the side briefly, “Then, we….” he worried his lip between his teeth.

“...Kill him?” Albert tried,

Race looked down at his lap, reaching up a hand to tug at the hair on the back of his head, “I mean, no. Killing’s not entirely necessary. That’s like, last resort. Like if he pulls knife on us. Yeah, no, we’d just, like, beat him up.” He was rambling and Albert furrowed his brow.

“You alright? Why are you getting weird?”

“I’m not,” Race said, defensively scooting backwards a bit.

“You totally are,” Albert noted that Race had shrunken in on himself, “Is this something to do with last night? With Rockefeller or whatever Jack was talking about?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Albert regretted them.

He silently cursed his lack of a filter as Race whipped his head up, “What? How did you-” he scooted backwards further as his expression turned furious, “So you were listening. You lied to me, DaSilva. This puts you on thin fucking ice.”

Albert pursed his lips, annoyed with himself.

“If you were listening so carefully,” Race seethed, “Then you should have known not to fucking bring that up.”

“M’sorry,” Albert mumbled.

Race didn’t answer as he busied himself in pulling out his headphones, though Albert could see his hands shaking. Albert sat back in his seat and pulled out his own phone, electing to catch up on SnapChat until they arrived in The Bronx.

Fordham was significantly sketchier than the neighborhoods Albert was used to. The storefronts they passed were all worn down and the deeper Race led Albert into the area, the dirtier it got. Race hadn’t spoken a word to him since their conversation on the train, leaving Albert more or less in the dark about the specifics of where they were going. Eventually, they arrived at an abandoned auto-shop.

Race walked around to the back of the lot and knocked on one of the garage doors. It opened a moment later to reveal a tall, gruff looking guy.

“You Racetrack?” He asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Race said, sauntering over to him, “But, a little piece of constructive criticism, don’t ever voice your assumptions. If you had been wrong about who was just now, that could have meant serious trouble for the both of us.”

The guy looked unimpressed, “I expected you to be less twiggy.”

“And I expected you to have more than one brain cell, but alas.”

“Whatever,” The guy said, “You got the shit?”

“Yeah,” Race retrieved the paper bag containing the weed from his jacket, “And you’ll get it as soon as I see the cash.”

The guy reached into his back pocket and produced an envelope, “Here, you see it. Now give me the goddamn pot already.”

“Nuh uh uh,” Race wagged his finger, “Calm down, you useless junkie. I already made it very clear the other day that it’s cash first, weed second. Hand it over.”

“Show me the pot first,” Race opened the bag and held it out for the guy to see. He peered at the bag’s contents, inspecting it closely, “And that’s two grams?”

Race clicked his tongue, “It should be.”

The guy nodded and reached into the envelope, revealing a large wad of cash. He held it out for Race to take, who in turn, handed the paper bag over to him.

Once the items were exchanged, Race spit into his palm and offered it to the guy. Without hesitation, the guy spit into his own hand and shook Race’s. Albert wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Pleasure doing business,” Race said, formally.

The guy huffed a small laugh, “Okay.”

With that, he stalked back into the auto shop and closed the garage door. Race turned to Albert, looking pleased.

“That went nice and smooth,” He said.

“Yeah, seemed easy,” Albert agreed.

“I’m hungry,” Race declared, “Let’s head back to The Bowery for lunch, then we can do our next trade.”

“What time’s our next trade? And where?” Albert asked, following Race away from the autoshop.

“4:00 over in Washington Square Park. We have a little while.”

The journey back to The Bowery seemed to take less time than the commute to The Bronx. Race had loosened up significantly and was telling Albert about the other guys in Empire as they entered the theatre.

“So yeah, you met Finch and Crutchie- great guys by the way, absolute geniuses. Aside from them, there’s Mush and Blink, who trade a lot over in Staten Island. Blink’s got an eyepatch. No one knows exactly what happened to his eye, but it definitely involved a knife. Romeo is a little shit, but a total charmer, which comes in handy during trades. Jojo’s the handyman- I’ve already told you about him. Giant teddy bear, that guy. Love him. And then you met Jack and I’ve told you about Les and Davey- oh! I want you to meet Davey, he should be around today, one sec,” As they passed the recreation room, Race stuck his head in, “Hey, Mush.”

Albert peeked over Race’s shoulder to see a shorter guy with straight brown hair, playing solitaire. He looked up upon hearing his name and smiled, “Hey Race,” He made eye contact with Albert and blinked, “You’re Albert, yeah? The dude Race pulled off the street?”

“Indeed, that’s me,” Albert said as Race pulled him into the room.

“Welcome, don’t fuck anything up,” Mush said, placing his cards onto the table and clasping his hands under his chin, “Did you guys need something?”

“Yeah,” Race leaned against the door, “D’you know where Davey is?”

“Uh, I’m not actually sure? I saw him and Jack leave a little bit ago. They said they have something they need to take care of over in SoHo.”

Race frowned, “That’s weird, I didn’t think that they had any trades today.”

Albert felt his blood run cold as he processed what Mush had told them, “Oh my god,” he muttered, “Oh my god.”

Race and Mush looked at him, confusion written on their faces, “What? What’s wrong.”

Albert swallowed and met Race’s stare, panic running down his spine, “Elmer’s girlfriend lives in SoHo.”

“What are you-” Albert didn’t let Race finished as he fled the room, running towards the exit.

“Albert, slow down,” Race called, running after him, “Albert!”

Albert stopped just outside the theatre, turning around to look at Race with wide, terror-stricken eyes, “Race, please, I need to make sure Elmer’s okay.”

“But what does that have to do with his girlfriend-” Understanding dawned on Race’s face, “Wait shit, is he still at his girl’s place?”

“Yes and I think that’s where Jack and Davey are headed. Come or don’t, I’m going,” Albert ran to the street and hailed a cab, Race climbing in next to him.

“Albert,” Race hissed, “You realize this is gonna make it worse, right?”

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, pulling out his phone and dialing Elmer’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Albert called Sarah.

“Hello?” Sarah answered from the other side. She sounded okay, which Albert took as a good sign.

“Sarah, are you at your place?” Albert asked, urgently.

“No, I’m at the grocery store right now, why? Is everything okay?”

“Is Elmer with you?” Albert pushed.

“No,” Sarah said, slowly, “He was still asleep when I left, so he didn’t come.”

“Shit,” Albert cursed, “Shit shit shit.”

“Albert, what’s-” Sarah started, sounding worried.

“I gotta go, but don’t go home,” Albert demanded, not waiting for a reply as he hung up.

They arrived in front of Elmer’s apartment complex fifteen minutes later. Albert almost didn’t want to go inside, too afraid of what he might find. He forced himself to get out of the cab nonetheless and sprinted in through the front, Race on his heels. He bypassed the elevator, instead darting towards the door to the stairwell and scaling the three flights of stairs to Sarah’s floor. When he got to the apartment, he found that it was locked.

He cursed under his breath, then turned to Race, who was standing nervously a few feet away, “Do you have, like, anything you can use to pick locks?” He asked, impatiently.

Race looked like he was having some sort of internal battle as he reached into his boot and pulled out a knife, handing it to Albert, who stuck his tongue between his teeth as he fiddled with the doorknob. It took a few minutes, but eventually he got heard the click indicating that he had succeeded.

“I don’t think you should go in there,” Race warned, but Albert ignored him.

The next thirty seconds felt like they went by in slow motion. Albert opened the door to find Jack and a man in a button down shirt and sweater vest standing on the other side. The man in the sweater vest was pointing a gun at Elmer, who was cowering against the wall. Jack looked up as Albert entered the room and opened his mouth to shout something, but was cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Albert looked over to see Elmer slump onto the floor, blood flowing steadily from his head. He screamed and staggered backwards into Race, who caught him and lowered him to the floor. The sound around Albert seemed to muffle. The world was blurry and he was certain that people were talking around him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Albert, Jesus Christ,” He felt someone slap him across the face and he flinched, “Stop screaming or Davey’ll shoot you too,” Race’s voice bled into his consciousness and he was suddenly pulled back to reality.

He closed his mouth, stopping the screams that were escaping him. Without thinking, he looked at Elmer’s body again and his stomach lurched. He bent over to the side and threw up, unable to handle the sight any longer. He heard the door close behind him, then the man in the sweater vest crouched down in front of him.

His eyes were alarmingly calm as he offered a hand to Albert, “You must be Albert. I’m Davey, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

In the words of @newsies-of-nyc “R.I.P el, sorry bro”

next chapter we find out what ‘Rockefeller’ is oooo race’s dark past

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#racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #ralbert #newsies #newsies fic #jack kelly #davey jacobs #fugitives

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