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How Tom White spends his off-time

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Tom White

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« on: <02-21-15/2246:15> »
"But....but why do you have to go? You're just going to leave me here at the bar after all of those drinks you bought me? I feel...guilty."' The dirty blonde, elven woman gazed up at White's face while she held her right forearm across her upper torso to promote her cleavage. Good ol Tommy just chuckled and offered the grin with an expression movie stars were jealous of. "Next time sweety." The digital pupils in his eyes flashed a soft pink hue as odorless pheromones gushed out of his pores while he leaned close. "I..promise" The elf went a flutter in a shock of passion while Mr. White took the cocktail out of her other hand. Lifting his head up, to down the woman's drink, he then lifted a hand to wave over a taxi. Lifting the lady up to carry over his shoulder, she giggled and squirmed while playfully pounding Toms broad back with her fists. White boy, walked around the car and to the drivers side window to let the cabbie know where she lived. His eyes flashed red as the playful expression dropped coldly to be given to the driver. This may be a sixth world county but I TRUST she will get home safely. "Whatever you say bub. Free of charge..just..just..." "Shut up" Tom White replied while tossing a generic credstick his direction, for his generous fare.
"Did you? Just tell me? To shut up?" The elven woman gave an oblivious giggle as she squealed out playfully. Tom White opened the cab door and set her inside as if a baby in a crib."No dear, youre to precious to be ever told to shut up. Call my commlink when you get home, young starlet. Ill be holding my breath until you do, okay? The girl giggled more as Tom shut the door. Tapping the roof of the car, the taxi driver sped off into the night while the woman blew kisses back at hiim through the open window. "Next time! You promised, Whitey!" Tom's eyes flared out in the same pink hue which made his elven doll wail out in a sexual fervor.
Tom took to walking after buying a bottle of cheap vodka from the sleazy over priced bar. He walked some more. And some more and some more. Eventually, the plastic bottle bounced off of the curb and rolled into a sewage gutter. His eyes glared a dark red now and darted in a fever of rage. He walked some more. And some more and more..and more. Time meant nothing to him if he wasnt on the shadow clock's time card. Circling the neighborhood he knew, with a nostalgic passion, he turned down a dark alleyway and leaned against a brick wall to throw up. The bile spewed outwards, missed his clothes and splattered on the urine soaked concrete. He shook his head, paused and squinted shut his eyes. Breathing in, he quickly inspected the outside of his van, and then turned to walk to it while letting out a long exhale. Pressing a button on his keychain, the side door glided open and he stepped into the vehicle before the door then slid shut. He slid on a bandelero full of shells that loaded the shotgun that he named "Boomstick", strapped boomstick over his shoulder and grabbed his katana to set down on the van's floor next to his crouching leg. Grabbing a folded map by one of the paper's corners, he flicked his wrist to  cause the folds to bloom into a giant scale of the city. His city. What was once, our city. The city he grew up in. The place that held hope for those who wanted to survive; until the pumpkin fucks took it over. The technology in his eyes aided him in the dark to read the sections he had marked off. He had come a long way since he started .."sweeping". Sweeping that weener drek up and out of his fucking home. Tonight was a matenance effort. Those october loving freaks always seemed to generate new bodies gradually...
"He fucking came out of nowhere! NOWHERE!. He killed Chomps and he slaughtered Dale. I got the fuck out of there but I can hear him calling me out from echoes in the alleys. I cant hide! every time I take a breath, I hear-"  "You! you! youre not dying TONIGHT! Heck maybe youll fit in better with your drek eating gang as their mascot!" Tom White wailed out in one of many dark alleys that connected the neighborhood into that grid. The weener fled aimlessly as Tom cried out in a perverse anger. White boy roared and sobbed and even shreiked from time to time in a deep seeded mockery after the ganger fired his gun on each occasion, into the darkness, in terror. The muzzle flashes revealed battered brick walls, green dumpsters overflowing with garbage, terrified homeless people, but, not Tommy boy. The weener ran into a dead end and squeezed off his last shot. It was quiet. Too quiet. The ganger heard a distinct whistle now that echoed and bounced off the brick walls in amplification. The whistling was divided into three syllables. CU-LET-O! Someone called out from somewhere and then whistled again... and again ...and again... It was dark and the ganger might as well have been blind. A single shot then roared out from boomstick with  a muzzle flash that revealed its owner. The ganger screamed before a but-whip to the head rendered him unconscious.
As the sun beagn to rise and the filth from the jackal's lantern sauntered out of the bar to expect the light to be the culprit of misery, instead, the rookie weener that was aggressively poached the night before, lie unconscious. The gangers all paused in shock to what they had seen. " Drek..." a few of them gasped. Another stared with a lack of instinct to blink his bulging eyes, while another was smart enough to grab a folded piece of paper half out of a pocket to read it: "GET OUT" . The rookie ganger woke up, but saw nothing; for his eyes were scooped out by White boy's hand razors. His hand lifted to his face to feel the space where his nose used to be. He opened his mouth to say something, but, his lips were cut wide open to his ears and nothing could be pronounced correctly. He was a mascot alright. Carved up, like a pumpkin. From an unnoticed distance, an incindary round flared through the morning air before puncturing the rookie's mutilated head that was now set ablaze.