CHAMPAGNE, COCAINE, GASOLINE / OPEN, BADLANDS RAID

[DYLAN,]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 490px; color: black; text-align: justify; margin-top: 5px"][color=black]He was staring intently at Cecil, patiently waiting for the gunshot bang and the exploding pain in some part of his body, but it never came. Dylan wanted to be disappointed but he didn't blame the Northener - he was too messed up with guilt and whatever else was running through his head, probably more focused on trying not to cry or some shit. If it was Dylan in his shoes, he'd already have cracked, but it wouldn't have been tears - the other person's head would've been blown in. He had to give credit where it was due, though, because maybe this group wasn't as easy as they appeared. Hiding behind this building and the fences was doing them good. At Charlie's announcement of retreat, a toothy grin lit the nineteen year old's face. "Buh-bye Cecil, thanks for the shit." He saluted the white-haired boy and flipped his throwing star through his index finger and bleeding pinky finger, eyeing him carefully as he backed the precious few steps away from the gun pointed at his chest.

Running was hard, his ribs were on fire and his pinky finger was still bleeding all down his body. He scooped up his AK as he ran past and picked up a backpack full of stuff with his mangled hand, which only added more fuel to the fire that was ravaging his body. The Councilman gritted his teeth and tried to ignored it as he made his exit. Within a minute he had blended in with the shadows once again, heading off hot on Charlie's trail.