Chapter Text
Chapter One
The night had gone terribly and Droog just couldn't wait to get back to the hideout and get cleaned up. The plan hadn't been entirely sound to being with, but Slick would never hear that argument. So they had all gone along with it and Droog had done his best to keep the plans from collapsing entirely, despite how Slick had built plans about as flimsy as a house of cards. One shove and the whole thing fell apart.
Or one flicker of a flame. Matchsticks, that dirty- Droog grit his teeth, but outwardly he held it together. Fingers slowly tensed and relaxed on the steering wheel of their getaway van. In the background he could hear Slick cursing and shouting and just going on and on about how it was not his fault, but theirs. No, the shouting was not in the background. Slick was right beside Droog, leaning over in the passenger seat and shouting those obscenities right into his ear. But it did not matter, Droog had learned quick to ignore most of the complaining and criticizing that his 'leader' did. That was the only way he could handle things like this.
Though, really, it hadn't gone well. If he had less self-control, he'd be cursing too. Not just cursing, but beating something. In all honesty, his temper was far worse than Slick’s, he simply hid it better out of necessity. They couldn’t have two people fly off the handle at the drop of a hat.
He'd only barely missed getting blown away by Quarter's mini-gun. Only Boxcars shoving him out of the way had kept him safe from an untimely demise. The man was big and people assumed stupid, but he had loyalty and wasn't afraid to fight for his fellow gang members. Droog respected that.
It was just too bad that Boxcars had managed to take almost all of the gunfire himself. Not enough to kill, but the man was currently passed out in the back of the van, patched up as best as Droog could manage. Deuce would keep him company while Droog absorbed the brunt of the verbal assaults from Slick.
Slick had apparently decided to increase the abuse and poked at Droog to punctuate the accusations of it all being Droog’s fault. Poke. Insult. Poke. Curse, insult. Poke. Dark claws stabbed roughly at his shoulder and after a few more irritating pokes that were punctuated with false blame, Droog veered to the side of the road, stopped the vehicle, and glared at Slick. “You want to stop doing that now, Slick.”
“You don't fucking tell me what to do! I'll do what I want, got it? I'm the leader!” Poke. Poke. Sharper ones now. Ones that would definitely snag at the suit, if the way they hurt and bit into his skin meant anything.
Droog leaned over and caught hold of Slick's throat, pulling him out of the passenger seat with ease and pressing their faces a half an inch apart. “If you don't stop, I'm going to kick you out of the van, Slick. You can walk back.”
“I'll fucking kick you out of the gang! Come near the hideout and you'll get shot right in your hard black carapace, you fucking piece of shit. Your fault for getting Boxcars shot in the first place. If you didn't fucking act so worthless, we could have-”
“My fault that Matchsticks came in and set the exits on fire too, right? Everything is my fault? Maybe if your plan had actually-”
“Guys,” Boxcar grunted and sat up, moving slowly toward them from the back. “I think-”
“Shut up! If you didn't fuck up the plan, it would have worked!”
“Your plans never work on their own. I always have to fix things you mess up, Slick!” He could feel his forehead heating up. There was no way this would end well for anyone. That didn't bother him as much as maybe it should have. He had some steam to work off too.
“Guys, Deuce isn't back here.” Boxcars was quiet, still likely suffering from the gunshots, but there was a subdued sort of panic in his voice. A strain that Droog didn't like.
If the way Slick went slack meant anything, their leader didn't like the tone or the news either.
Within a few seconds they started up again, took a sharp U-turn on the street, and headed back to The Felt's hideout.
Slick, for once, was silent. It wouldn't last, but it was a welcome relief from the incessant words he'd been spewing.