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Sick Boy

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"Ha, you're being upstaged by a runt." The British tone snorted, throwing his head back with a loud laugh, his hands drawing to his face, only to fall into his hair then drag down his face, laughter spilling out from behind his palms still.

"Shut the fuck up, Gavin." A snarl returned, his eyes darting over to the slim figure for a mere second before his arm returned to its defensive stance, blocking the attack of secondary arm, whose fist balled up, gripping the knuckle dusters a little tighter. A third hand trailed, coming behind the second arm as an uppercut landed hard into the chin of the broader male, causing the British laughter to erupt once more, a hearty chuckle from the built, smaller male creating a duet of laughter. "Jeremy!" The thick Georgian accent hissed, turning his attention back to his opponent, who merely flashed a toothy grin before raising a leg, a kick square in the gut finalising the battle. Ryan inhaled sharply as the kick hit him, stumbling backwards into the grip of the rather muscular female who softly giggled, pushing Ryan back onto his feet before slapping a hand on his shoulder.

"You did good Ryan but it looks like Treyco may be stronger than he seems." The female tilted her head slightly to peek from behind Ryan's form, nodding with the hint of a smirk before she winked at the boy. "It's also rather funny to see you lose." Her hand slapped Ryan's shoulder once again and in turn, she received a mutter of curse words and a small punch on the side of the arm as Ryan broke from her grasp.

Trevor stood opposite them all, his knuckle dusters glinting in the dim light of the room. His heart was racing and he could feel blood dripping from his nose, his eyes scanning each figure with intent, curiosity. How did this ragtag of idiots, deadly idiots, find him? Capture him? And now, have a friendly scrap with him? Thoughts sat in his mind, clouding his sense of reality till the Georgian accent spoke again, invading his mind. "You can relax Trevor." Ryan spoke in a deadpan tone, one eyebrow raised as his arms folded over his chest. Trevor let out a slow exhale, straightening his posture as he too brought his arms up, slipping the dusters off his hand before in a swift motion flung them in the direction of Gavin.

"Hhgg!" Gavin spat out a fumble of sounds, ducking as the dusters flew over his head. "Phew." He breathed out, returning to his previous stance with a triumphant grin on his lips, his shades being slowly re-positioned with a singular index finger. "Nice try, Treyco." Gavin's grin widened only to fall into a sulk as he grasped the back of his head, a small whine emanating from him, bottom lip pushing itself out.

"Dummy." Michael shook his head as he stepped forward out of the darkness, the dusters sitting on his knuckles now, a knife in the other. "I didn't wanna be involved in any of this shit but I have a question," He paused, setting the knife down on a nearby work surface, his gaze setting on Trevor's who stared back at him with intent. "Why is the bellboy from the local motel hurling knuckle dusters in our home?"