LOCATION — Streets of London.
DATE — December 16th, 2022.
STARTER — Closed for @vinnievespucci
Walking home at this hour was asking for trouble.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, Gideon was aware of it. But his car was still at the mechanic’s and he didn’t have it in him to make small talk with some taxi or Uber driver, let alone have them ogling the place where he lived. Besides, his jacket was thick enough to keep out the crisp evening air and he figured there was something to be said about getting exercise that wasn’t in the claustrophobic confines of a sweaty gym. As usual though, life had different plans in store for him.
“Hey, look who it is!” An inebriated sing-song broke the relatively peaceful silence, but Gideon hoped it was aimed at some other late night straggler and kept walking. “Another Rutherford... Another king of the world!!” Laughter broke through those words, reckless and jeering. There was a quickening of footsteps behind him, and then abruptly an arm thrown around his shoulders, staggering Gideon’s balance.
He yanked away reflexively, trepidation setting him on high alert.
The blond stranger stumbled forward with another laugh (”Not so fast, Rutherford! We won’t infect you, don’t worry,”), and Gideon turned to find two others following closely behind. “Hey stronzo,” One of the others joined in on the jeering. He was bald, with a goatee and dark, glinting eyes. “Not so big on these streets now, are you?”
“Yeah?... And who the fuck are you?”
It was clear the man didn’t like his tone, but then that made two of them.
LOCATION — Damon’s Penthouse.
DATE — Late December 2022.
STARTER — Closed for @damon-rutherford
He stares at his own reflection in Damon’s mirror, trying to scrub off some of the crusted blood that’s matted around his left eyebrow.
“I’m telling you, he was crazy... Unhinged. Even the others that were with him were trying to call him off. And Mel, she-...” Gideon shook his head, still trying to come to terms with it himself. “I’ve never seen her pull a weapon on anyone before... I’m not even entirely certain she meant to. She was panicking by the time Johnathan rolled up — trying to hide it, but I could see it.” He turns away from the mirror to face his brother; adrenaline and anxiety still thrumming in his veins.
“I don’t know why she bothered.” He’d have never expected her to.
IDK if I'm phrasing this correctly, but in my brain, Vasco is, like, the personification (caninification?) of an afternoon chilling on a back porch swing.