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badfic_manor2010-10-21 08:16 pm
hunted-by-fbi.livejournal.com) wrote in badfic_manor2010-10-21 08:16 pm
Entry tags:
{First Robbery} Accidental Video
[John sat up in his bed, touching his face, chest and stomach with a gasp and heavy breathing. He could have sworn he was killed. He looks around his room to find it looks very similar to the one he had when Billy first came to know him. His brow furrowed and began to search the room.]
Billy?
[This couldn't be right because Billy was still in prison, last he knew. His steps were more urgent as he threw open doors, searched cabinets and under his bed.]
Red? Petie? Homer?
[He opened the door that led to the hallway. His expression fell and his hand dropped from the knob.]
They locked me up in some sort of nuthouse.
[He scoffed and slowly turned his head to look at the brass plaque on the door that read, John H. Dillinger. Public Enemy #1. John had to laugh.]
Guys, this is the best joke I've seen in years. Come on, where are you. I wanna get some whiskey and shoot the breeze a while. Jokes over. I get it.
[John's smile is bright and full of mirth now but that soon faded when no one came out from their hiding places and the names on the doors were unfamiliar. This was now getting to the point that he had to move to find out exactly where he was. He grabs his jacket and spots the red blinking light and the Blackberry device.
He picks it up and tilts his head with his brow furrowed.]
Nice toy.
[He shoves it in his pocket, not really knowing how to shut it off. Thanks to the 1930's, he's not very technically savvy. The view is of a deep burgundy pocket and the feed eventually times out.]
Billy?
[This couldn't be right because Billy was still in prison, last he knew. His steps were more urgent as he threw open doors, searched cabinets and under his bed.]
Red? Petie? Homer?
[He opened the door that led to the hallway. His expression fell and his hand dropped from the knob.]
They locked me up in some sort of nuthouse.
[He scoffed and slowly turned his head to look at the brass plaque on the door that read, John H. Dillinger. Public Enemy #1. John had to laugh.]
Guys, this is the best joke I've seen in years. Come on, where are you. I wanna get some whiskey and shoot the breeze a while. Jokes over. I get it.
[John's smile is bright and full of mirth now but that soon faded when no one came out from their hiding places and the names on the doors were unfamiliar. This was now getting to the point that he had to move to find out exactly where he was. He grabs his jacket and spots the red blinking light and the Blackberry device.
He picks it up and tilts his head with his brow furrowed.]
Nice toy.
[He shoves it in his pocket, not really knowing how to shut it off. Thanks to the 1930's, he's not very technically savvy. The view is of a deep burgundy pocket and the feed eventually times out.]