Wilderness: Roads

Y/N is literally almost there. He doesn't need the GPS to know that he's only a couple minutes away from the mansion that he can drop this food off at. Honestly, it would've made a lot more sense to just eat it at the restaurant because of obvious reasons like the fries likely being soggier than vines, but again, why should he care that badly? He's doing his job and wasting so much of this anniversary's time with it.

The moon shines high at this time as Y/N has to resort to his headlights to see where the heck he's going. Thankfully, there's only one path, so unless another comes in and meets him in the middle with a hard collision, which he'll be prepared for, this should be a pretty easy trip for the rest of the way.

Meanwhile, the radio has once again put that older-than-his-dad- song onto the track.

https://youtu.be/AJ_ABgZO3gA

In spite of him mentally judging it earlier, Y/N finds himself humming and bobbing his head to the song. More than likely, this thing is going to get stuck in his head later, and it's going to be contagious as fuck when he gets home. Well.... assuming he can shed his personal hatred to sing it to them and spread it. 

Eventually, he makes it to the gate as always. This time, however, it seems to be closed. Y/N squints as he taps on the wheel, waiting, but nothing seems to happen for a good minute or two. He slowly steps out, glancing around so he doesn't get eaten by a coyote or something, where his eye eventually spots a camera attached to one of the pointy sides of the wall holding it.

He sighs as he walks over to it, waving his hands in front of the lens while resisting the urge to flip it the birds as well like he was Micheal De Santa. A few more minutes after that, the gate emits a loud creak as it opens itself for him and the Chicken, prompting him to let out a relieved sigh before getting back into his driver's seat and taking it into the property.

One obvious fact about the business's truck though, it's the obvious fact that it has a statue of a chicken on the roof like mentioned earlier, which someone is able to see through a dark window inside the mansion. Rickles watches as the chicken rolls into the property through the lens of his scope, pulling his head up with a confused brow on his face. He stands up to warn the others.

"Hey, boys! We got a situation here!" 

Everyone else sooner or later then joins his lookout spot where they see the chicken truck driving through the rest of the dirt path, almost to the deer statue. "Who the hell is that?" Dean is the first to ask out loud, to which Peter hums.

"Looks like a chicken man....."

"No fucking shit, Sherlock." Frank sarcastically remarks while giving the muscle a glare. "What we mean is, what is he doing here? Delivering low-product meat at this hour?" He explains for the guy to understand, hoping that there will be an end to Peter's painful responses/questions. 

"Someone must have called him here." Joey guesses with a hum, bringing up the obvious fact that is well-known about fast-food delivers, assuming this is real.

Rickles thinks on that for a moment before turning to Sammy. "Was this what your were tying furiously for in that phone of yours?" He accuses her with a pointed looked, clearly offending the hacker.

"What? Hell no. I hate Cluckin's....."

"Could be a cop in plain clothes." Frank theories with a knowledgeable hum, scanning the truck as it stops a few feet away from the van. "They'll sometimes have a guy knocking on the front to distract a person while their partner and friends sneak around."

"I haven't spotted anyone else, though..." Rickles points out as he does a double scan of the lawn with his scope, not spotting anyone out there. "And even then, I don't see the point with a mansion that's bigger than Lazaar's."

"Even so, they're not gonna leave until we give them a tip right?" Peter mentions as he rubs his chin, remembering the whole thing about not showing their faces and names and stuff. "Doesn't that make them a possible threat?"

"Wow...." Dean whistles with a tiny chuckle. "All meat-and-bones finally said something smart." He mockingly comments, earning himself a scary glare from Peter that succeeds in making him instantly turn his head away.

"Okay, so let's shoot him!"

"No." Joey instantly shoots that idea, giving Peter a scolding look. "Remember what Lambert said? If we kill someone, we'll leave a crumb trail behind. We have to take care of him without killing him." She states before looking back at the man opens his vehicle's door, considering their options.

"As much as I hate to say this, she's right." Frank agrees with a nod, doing the same thing in his mind.

"And there's a simple way to do it."

Back on the ground, Y/N steps out of the truck while carrying the multiple to-go-boxes in a massive plastic bag. Humming that song still as he mentally thanks everything for allowing him to make it to this location. Once he gets to the front door, he sets the bag down before tapping on the doorbell.

"Yo, Mr. Lambert! I'm here!" Y/N yells into the door, hoping that someone in the building can hear him. He usually opens it anyway, so this should be expected. When he gets no response though, breaking that tradition, he starts knocking loudly on the wood as well as pressing the doorbell a second time. "Hey, anyone in here?!"

There's another moment of nothing before the door finally opens.... and a person in a purple jacket, hood, and mask steps into view and points a gun at him.

"What the-!" Y/N utters as he looks ready to immediately start running away, but the person instantly cocks their hammer to interrupt him, warning him that he'll get a bullet to the back if he even turns funny. "Okay, okay..... hope you're not the 'special occasion' I was told about..." He responds as he raises his hands, using his mouth to mask his fear right now. 

The unknown man then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pre-written note which probably explains the delay. "Come inside." It orders, while the gun brandishes itself like a wannabe gangster to try and intimidate it's new hostage.

"Fine." Y/N relents with a sigh as it slowly steps inside, though the hood prison pushes him against the door, just so it can grab the bag of food and set it on the floor inside the house. "Oh, that's really classy." 

The gunman silences his sarcastic respond by shoving the gun in his face, using it to tell him step further into the front area. Y/N's jaw tenses up as he does as ordered, allowing the person to close the open front door and lock it, which almost sounds like the word fear since it curls up a knot in the worker's stomach.

The two stand in a weary silence before the gunman then pulls out a second note. This one a little bit more longer than the previous one that had simple instructions on it. "You will be hurt badly if you don't do exactly what is ordered of you, and for obvious reasons, we won't ask twice." It says, before the gunman loosens a finger, letting it drop a reveal a neighbor behind it. "Do you understand?"

"Sorry, I'm illiterate." Y/N responds with a horrible attempt at a joke that the gunman doesn't think is funny, nor believes it, since the guy clearly understood to walk into the house five seconds ago. They press the barrel of the pistol against his head. "Okay! Relax! Relax, I got it..."

The gunman eases up slightly and backs up so the guy can't attempt to grab the gun and get himself shot in the face. They then reach into their jacket and pull out another note. "Follow the directions I give you. If you try to change course, you will be hurt badly." It says, using the same threat to enforce it which Y/N can't help but a judging brow to. 

Before he can try and make a remark though, the gunman grabs his shoulder and forces him backwards causing him to groan a bit at the harsh contact. "Easy pal..." Y/N says in a hope to have him ease up on his body, but all he gets in response is the stranger ordering them to take another step back with their firearm, causing him to do so. 

Then, they pull out another note. "Empty everything you got, and do it slowly." 

"Alrighty then." Y/N replies with a nervous swallow as he starts with his phone first, holding it out and handing it to the gunman who rips it out of his hands. Then, he reaches into his jacket's breast pocket for his wallet, which he pulls out, shaking a bit as he tries handing it next. However, this causes to accidentally slip out of his hands when the stranger's fingers graze it. "S-Shit, I'm sorry..." He quickly apologizes as a way of begging not to be shot. The guy seems to be glaring at him through his mask, but doesn't say anything still as they kneel down to grab it.

When they stand back up, Y/N uses the split second of him not paying attention to pull out some pepper spray and spray it in his eyes they second the gunman turns back to him. They let out a masculine yell as they press the trigger, only shooting the ceiling while he uses this opportunity to frantically pull at the door's handle, unlocking the damn thing as best he can. 

The stranger quickly tries re-gaining control by wrapping his arms around him. However, Y/N stomps on his foot and then uses a vase from the console table to then smash over his head. The gunman lets out a pained yelp as he takes off into hallway in a panic while they then shoot at him, only for every bullet to miss thanks to the pepper spray screwing out his vision. "Fuck!" They break their silence with a loud swear, rubbing their face.

Y/N turns his heels onto Sonic level, the cardio he built up for himself paying off as he sprints down the hallway...

Only to receive a massive hook to the face by one of the biggest fists in his eye ever seen before impact. Y/N's foot slips onto the floor like a cartoon before he lands on the back of his head, which knocks him out temporarily. "I got him!" The person those knuckles belongs to loudly announces to the other criminals like it's something to be proud about.

The other criminals then step out of the shadows and circle around the guy's body. "Fucking shit, man!" Dean exclaims in pain as he's the last to walk up to the group. "The guy fucking sprayed me!"

"No, you fell for an obvious trick and got your ass kicked is what happened." Frank corrects the wannabe gangster with a look as he rips the pistol out of the guy's hand with a sigh, kicking the pepper spray away so the adult can't grab it again. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you and your urge to show off to do something simple."

"Hey, fuck you...."

"Hey, boys? Focus?" Joey snaps the arguers back to the unconscious dude that will wake up in a few seconds, who is also very much an adult. Frank gives her a glare before shaking his head with a sigh.

"Whatever, you guys know the deal. Help the drag this idiot into the basement. We'll figure out what to do with him later." Franks orders the crew as he grabs onto Y/N's arms, prompting Peter to then lift up his legs and help each other bring the unconscious hostage away which feels much more difficult thanks to how heavier he is. "Ugh, heavy son of a gun...."

What they don't know, however, is that the second they start moving him out of the front area, the narrow space behind the front doors bring in a metal gate.

Which locks itself with a quiet snap.

__________________________________________

Mansion: Bar

With the chore now out of the way, the gang can now use the rest their hours to have a good time. Peter pours the drinks for everyone as they play some old-style music and have small talk as to not get overly personal. Dean loops around the pool table in a bicycle he found, and thinks is cool. Joey, meanwhile, sits on the chair with her hands laced together on her lap, silently in her own head. 

"Man, this place is dope, right?" Dean boasts excitedly to Sammy as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

"No, no it's not." Sammy replies with a small scoff, right before Peter hands her, her glass. "Thank you..."

"Come have a drink with us, Joey." Rickles encourages the woman who's sitting by herself, seemingly not liking the idea of her just hanging back like she doesn't fit in. 

"Gotta go check on the kid soon." Joey responds in a way that politely declines the offer, wanting to keep herself mostly sober for the most part. She likes to keep herself in control. "Maybe after."

Dean abruptly makes a 'wrong' buzz sound effect with the help of his bike's bell in response to that. "No party poopers allowed, anyway." He teasingly remarks as he pasts by her with a cheeky smirk.

"Hey, who do you guys think that, uh, this girl's father is?" Peter queries the gang curiously as he loses the liquor bottles and puts them back safely on the bar.

"Hmm, some tech billionaire." Sammy guesses.

"Nah, probably real estate." Frank argues with a small hum.

"Nah, you don't get a house like that without being into some shit." Dean rebuttals both of them with a shake of his head as he feels like that kind of guy probably had a murder squad ready to take them down if those guards back at the girl's place caught them earlier. "Weapons, drugs, human trafficking...." He guesses with a shrug, before peddling over to the silent one with another honk of is imaginary horn. "What about you, Joey? Who you think he is?"

"America's Dad, Tom Hanks." Joey answers with a snarky smile, easily able to see what Dean is trying to do and shoots him down quickly.

"Ha, ha." Dean replies unamused, thinking that it was worth a shot though. Joey then reaches into her jacket and pulls out another piece of those second-favorite sweets, which seems to be the pro-driver's favorite as well. "Hey, let me get a piece of that candy."

"Get your own." Joey advises as she slaps Dean's hand away, causing him to scoff at her.

"Fuck you, too." Dean replies as he finally pedals away, giving up on trying to know her through innocent interactions. "You grew up with a bunch of brothers and sisters, huh?" He guesses with a exhale of his smoke, thinking that he's got the woman figured out now. "I'm like an expert at reading people." He claims, to which Joey raises her brows skeptically.

"Oh really?"

"Mm-hmm. You like a nanny or a babysitter, looking after that kid." He notes with a hum as he then turns to the others who are all staring at him. "Your man here is the bagman for that dude who let us in the door." He points to Frank. "Lookout, slash, private security." He points to Rickles. "Explosives man in the back." He points to Peter. "And a little teenage runaway hacker turned black hat for the feds." He then finally points to Sammy.

"Wow..." Joey reacts dryly, and Dean shrugs his shoulders in a cocky manner, failing to detect her sarcasm. "You might be the least perceptive person I've ever met." She comments coldly, causing the guy's smirk to drop.

"How the fuck would you know that?"

"Because you literally got nothing right, about anyone." Joey states with a matter of fact tone, causing Dean to give her an offended look. "Something tells me that's why you never suspected our new friend to be carrying pepper spray.

"Hey, don't bring that up, again. I told y'all I did what your little notes asked." Dean retorts with a defensive look, only for the guys at the bar to see that a few of them are trying to hold in a laugh. "Pretty sure she ran away from home...." He weakly insists though as he points to the girl, causing Sammy to laugh at his obviously wrong assumption. 

This level of certainty from Joey peaks Frank's interest, who pulls out a paper of green from his wallet. "Crisp one dollar bill, you can tell me one true thing about me." He bets as he slams it on the pool table, only for the woman to turn her head away.

"Pass."

Frank hums in a 'that's what I thought' kind of way. "Told y'all she ain't know shit." Dean also comments, the both of them admittedly succeeding at getting the reaction they want from Joey, who presses her lips together before abruptly standing up towards the table.

"You used to be a cop." She states before swiping the cash, causing Frank to blink at her, lowering his glass half-way through his sip. Peter and Sammy share a shocked look.

"Did he arrest you or something?" Sammy asks while amazed.

"No, it's the stance." Joey explains as she looks the mentally exposed Frank up and down. "The walk, the shoes, not to mention the standard-issue Glock, the shoulder holster, and he used police hand signals back at the house." She points out, taking a step closer in a way to poke at the bear's weakness, not planning on stopping there though. "Not a street cop. No.... too smart. You need to be in control, so I'm gonna say detective, homicide or vice, and he tries to hide it, but he's from Queen's. Probably only been up here a few years."

There's a brief moment of silence as nobody knows what exactly to say after that brutal observation, until Peter laughs and claps his hands. "Hey, uh.... you do me, too?" He requests as he pulls out some money as well and puts it on the bar. Joey gives him a look as if asking if he's really ready for that, but walks over and takes it anyway.

"I almost feel bad taking this.... 'cause you've basically got a fucking neon sign over your head that says, 'muscle.'" Joey notes easily, to which Peter flexes his pecs with a proud grin. "Quebec, right? You got bullied in school? Probably by dad, too." She assumes correctly, causing his grin to slowly drop. "So when you got bigger than everyone else, you turned the tables, made it into a career."

Sammy makes an invested face, pulling out almost a fourth of what the two men offered. "How much will this get me?"

"Wow, really? A twenty?" Joey questions with a raised brow, knowing she's just trying to hide things. "That's cheap, considering that you come from money." She remarks as she takes it anyway, which Sammy confirms with a nod. "Which means you're only in this for the kicks. You don't get your hands dirty. You use your keyboard instead of a gun and tell yourself that makes what you do not as bad, good luck when that illusion wears off."

"That is... true." Sammy admits, and Joey then steps towards Rickles who laughs nervously.

"No cash." He tells her with a shake of his head, knowing not to invoke her silent-badass wrath.

Joey slowly nods with a hum. "Then I'll just leave it at, 'Semper Fi'." She says not-so-cryptically, slowly leaning into the veteran's ear. "You're getting off easy." She whispers playfully to him, causing him to let out another chuckle.

"Hold on, now, you forgot about me." Dean tells Joey when she tries ignoring him, having assumed she was going to 'put him in his place' five minutes ago. Joey mentally giggles as she leans against the pool table.

"You don't want me to do you."

"What you mean? This is fun." Dean insists as he reaches into his daddy-like fanny pack for his load, which is shamelessly much bigger than the others.

"You're not a professional." Joey points out as she gives the large stack of money he brought with him a judging look. This easily offends the pro-driver.

 "I'm the best motherfucking wheelman in this town."

"I didn't say you weren't good. I said you're not a professional." Joey corrects Dean before the guy starts unleashing steam out of his ears. "You've got.... loose wiring, probably a sociopath." She calls him out smugly, and everyone, especially Sammy, laughs in response to the humbled driver's face. Everyone except Frank, who knows that two can play at that game.

"And you are a junkie."

Joey instantly freezes in her step halfway out of the room, confirming that the detective was right on the money, no pun intended. Sammy gasps as all heads turn to them. "Cop knows a junkie. Your little candy affectation? Long sleeves? Why you don't share a drink with us?" Frank points out the obvious clues as he stands up straight, stepping towards her while slowly wiping his glasses before tucking them into his breast pocket, showing that he doesn't always need them. "You in recovery or something? How many days you got? We gotta be worried about you?"

Joey swallows before shaking her head. She can say for certain that she's no longer in the recovery phase. "No."

"No?" Frank raises a skeptical growl, before leaning in with a menacing expression. "Don't ever fuck with me..... I will know." He warns her with a small growl, knowing a thing or two about putting people like her in their place if they act up, start swapping emotions and motives on them. Joey matches her glare without blinking, but knows that she has other stuff to do.

"I'm gonna go check on the kid." She lets them know as she tries walking away a second time.

"No, you are not." Frank declines however, causing her to pause and turn back towards him with confusion. "First, you're gonna go use those people skills of yours to figure out our friend, Chicken Boy, and see if he's an undercover cop trying to give us the slip, or something else that could bite us in the ass later. He's likely woken up at this point, so.... go give it a shot."

Joey blinks at him. "Why would I do that? He's not important."

"Because you just showed a clear wit for people who try to hide their background, and I wanna make sure you put that to better use than with a couple of bets." Frank answers coldly in another way of saying 'just fucking do it'. Now Joey understands that his initial bet that started all of this was just a test, and she expertly passed it. "The girl will be fine, now go." 

Joey glancing at everyone who stays completely silent or looks away, not wanting to be apart of this debate. She seethes before eventually complying and walking away, having a new destination. 

"I knew it! Junkies never share candy!" Dean exclaims with a point, to which Frank glances at him with an acidic smirk as he puts his glasses back on.

"Shut the fuck up, Dean."

___________________________________________

Mansion: Basement

......

The bridge....

he's running across the bridge...

And that's when he sees him.... the zombie....

Until he gets pulled overboard by an evil witch.

He tries calling out to him, but the police pull him back, preventing him saving him....

Y/N's eyes then open right as the nightmare reaches its end. He slowly stands up and looks around, finding himself in what looks like a medieval-looking ass cage, until he recognizes the bars that belong to an old-looking ass elevator. When that moment with the gunman then floods back into his memory, he quickly gets up like he's a cat falling from a small height. "Hello!?" He yells out into the darkness as he steps towards the door, shaking the elevator so it makes a deafening low noise. "HEY! ANYONE THERE?!"

As if answering his prayers, the door right in front of his field of view opens up, and a woman steps out. However, her gender, eyes, and skin color, is all he can use to describe her. She's wearing a neck gaiter and her medium long hair prevents him from seeing anything else about her face. That isn't exactly what one would call a green flag.

"The yelling is a little unnecessary." She comments casually as if he's some kind of therapeutic patient. She walks over robotically, and Y/N feels a little tense, knowing that this isn't the same person who brandished a gun at him earlier. Before he can say anything though, she pulls out a small plastic water bottle from her jacket and tosses it into his wannabe cell. "Here, you've been asleep for a couple of hours."

Y/N looks down at the bottle like it's a spider that's snuck into his room. "So what? You can do that.... that fucking DNA sample thing?" He accuses as he points at the thing that looks capable of stealing his lunch money. "No thanks."

"Does this look like a cop operation to you so far?" The woman questions him with a blank stare, doing a really good job of letting her voice do the talking and not any facial emotions. Y/N still looks at her weary, however, causing the woman to mentally roll her eyes, not bothering to try and convince him to drink it. He can let his brain dehydrated as much as he wants. "What's your name?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me, what's your name?" The woman asks again calmly. Y/N raises a brow,  as he obviously feels uncomfortable sharing even the most basic information with a kidnapper, even if it's not the guy with the gun.

"Well... What's your name?" Y/N tries re-directing the question back at him, to which the woman blinks impassively at him.

"That's not important."

"So then my name must not be important." Y/N replies like he's a genius little kid character. "Unless you're trying to say my name is more important, by I find that counter productive." He adds with a hand to  his heart, though he bets the woman is unamused with whatever the heck he just blurted out.

"Wow.... your heart must be racing incredibly right now, I can almost feel it from here." The woman dryly notes in a way that pretty much mocks Y/N's horrible attempt at being clever, causing him to drop his head with a sigh.

"Still not telling you my name until you tell me yours." Y/N states with a shaky shrug, still pressing his luck anyway. The woman probably wants to roll her eyes at this point.

"Joey." She then says, earning a confused reaction from Y/N. "My name is Joey." She claims, though the captured guy shakes his head at her.

"That's a made up name." He calls her out on it, though the woman doesn't seem to care very much.

"It's all you're getting."

"Okay, but that could've been something a lot more believable for deception sake." Y/N points out, making him wonder if he's really been degraded to the point that he's not even worth lying to. " Like.... Allison Burgers." He adds like it's an actual suggestion. The woman can't help it but blink at him judgingly this one time.

"Allison Burgers?"

"Or just Allison, but you get the point. At least you look like an Allison."

The woman then takes a sudden step towards Y/N, causing him to back up a little in fear. There's no need to intimidate him, because they already did it hours ago. "Do you want to see your family or not? Because I need something to work with."

Y/N glances off clicks his tongue before coming up with something. "D-Boy." He tells her, causing the woman to force her sigh not to come out.

"That's the worst wannabe hip hop street name I've ever heard."

"T-Bag was already taken."

With a few minutes of silence, the woman just turns around. "Fine, be that way." She says irritated as she can see that they are getting absolutely nowhere with this. "Enjoy the rest of your time."

Y/N shrugs before watching the woman go, his eye trailing down to her ass standing out to him thanks to her jeans. He lets out a cat call whistle. "Damn, do deadbeats always look that hot?"

The woman almost freezes in place upon hearing that, you'd think she got captured by a security camera. She slowly turns around and walks back torwards him. Y/N presses his lips as he just shrugs at her. To his surprise, she actually presses her hand softly against his chest rubbing it gently. He can't say that it doesn't feel nice.

That is... until she jabs him in the baby maker.

Y/N yelps, hissing loudly as he collapsed onto the ground while grabbing at his precious birds next in pain. The woman then just casually walks out without a care, leaving the guy to wollop in his well-deserved misery. "Damn..." The poor guy squeaks tensely as he hears the door opening with a loud creak.

Once it's closed, he then looks down at his dominant hand, and opens his palm...

Seeing that he successfully swiped the key from her.

__________________________________

(A/N) New Chapter!

Like I said, not letting Y/N stay out of the spotlight. He's pretty much the new main hero of this journey, anyway, so it's not like I'm planning on reducing him to side-character status. Now that Joey and Y/N have finally met each other, the real banter and what we've been waiting for will happen. 

Anyway, plz vote and comment, any kind counts as feedback, and I'll see you all in the next one!