Under the Skin, v2

Under the Skin [[Begin]]

It's a strange story. Many beginnings, many endings, splattering outward from a single bullet through a man's skull. What a strange story. A story that belongs to many, and to none of them. (if: $julie1 is true)[[[Julie]]] (if: $julie is true)[[[Adam|Adam]]] (if: $Adam is true)[[[Ennard|Ennard]]] (if: $Ennard is true)[[[Morgan|Morgan]]]

''//Julie//'' The john doesn't seem interested in you. He sits on the far side of the hotel room. You stare at him. He fiddles with the lock on his briefcase. You roll your eyes. Must've gotten cold feet. "You still have to pay, you know." You say. He glances at you. "Even if we don't have sex. I still need money." "Yeah...I know. Uh..." You drum your fingers on your thigh. "Well?" The man gestures to the briefcase. "There's money, in here." [["I want to see the money first."|confront]] (set: $julie to true) (set: $julie1 to false)

He nods and enters the code. The suitcase flips open. You stand and walk across the room. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of the piles of money tucked into the briefcase. "You can have it." The man suddenly bursts to his feet. "You can have all of it." "What--" He practically runs from the room. You stare at the gaping door. And then you turn back to the suitcase. You dig your hand into the guts of the money. It's the most money you've ever seen at one time. [[Take the money.|take]] [[Leave the money.|leave]]

You close the suitcase, careful not to let the lock engage. You don't care how he got this money. Money is money is money. You hurry out of the hotel room. Teardrop will be happy with you. Maybe let you have a hit of the better dust. The suitcase slaps against your bare thigh as you walk. You step outside and snow swirls around you. The cold air nips at your skin. As you exhale, a cloud of steam swirls past your lips. You hurry down the sidewalk. Your heels are loud on the pavement. "Hey, baby--" A man comes forward to accost you. You swerve around him. "Shop's closed. Find someone else." "But I want to play with you, baby." A hard hand closes around your arm. You whip around. "Hey, let me go--" "I'm sorry, do you even get to say no in your line of work?" [["You heard the lady. Let her go."|intro]]

You don't want dirty money. You know the kind of shit gangs get up to. You don't want to put yourself in the middle of that. You leave the suitcaste on the table. You step outside and snow swirls around you. The cold air nips at your skin. As you exhale, a cloud of steam swirls past your lips. You hurry down the sidewalk. Your heels are loud on the pavement. "Hey, baby--" A man comes forward to accost you. You swerve around him. "Shop's closed. Find someone else." "But I want to play with you, baby." A hard hand closes around your arm. You whip around. "Hey, let me go--" "I'm sorry, do you even get to say no in your line of work?" [["You heard the lady. Let her go."|intro2]]

"Stay out of this, asshole." Your assailant yanks you against his chest. He reeks of weed, barbeque sauce, and unwashed skin. You gag. "No means no, even for prostitutes." You turn your head. A man in a black coat stands a few feet away. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. His jet black hair is brushed away from his bold features. He's not quite handsome, but he's got the kind of face you won't forget. Even for someone like you, who's more likely to look at the ceiling than in the faces of the men you have sex with. "Go fuck yourself." The man pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He taps a cigarette loose and tucks it in the corner of his mouth. He lights the cigarette. "You have ten seconds, friend." He smiles around his cigarette. You clench your hand into a fist. [["Ten, nine, eight..."|figt back]] "What the fuck is wrong with you--?" [["Seven, six, five..."|wait]]

"Seven, six, five..." You reel back and crunch your fist into your attacker's jaw. He stumbles away from you, clutching his face, more surprised than hurt. "You fucking bitch--" There's a loud popping sound. All of the sudden, his body crumples in front of you. Blood sprays from the back of his head. The man in black stands in front of you, smoke twirling from the end of his cigarette. You didn't even see the gun. "I don't want any trouble--" You start. "I'm not going to hurt you." He nods to the suitcase. "Where did you get that from?" "A-a john." You clutch the suitcase to your stomach. "He gave it to me. Fair's fair." "Everything happens for a reason," the man smiles. It reminds you of a shark. You take a small step back. In the distance, you hear laughter and screaming and glass shattering. "Do you want to play a game? See if fate's at play here." [["Sure, I guess. If you'll let me go."|play]] [["N-no, thank you. I really have to go."|flee]]

"Four, three, two, one..." He sings the last four numbers. "Time's up, honey." "Fucking fag--" The asshole holding you captive whips out a gun and aims it at the man. But in the time it takes him to draw the gun, the man in black already has the barrel of a pistol pressed in the middle of his forehead. He pulls the trigger. Blood and bone and brain spray everywhere. You gasp and jump out of the dead man's grasp. "Don't get your thong in a twist, baby," the man in black says. He has already put the gun away. "I don't want any trouble--" You start. "I'm not going to hurt you." He nods to the suitcase. "Where did you get that from?" "A-a john." You clutch the suitcase to your stomach. "He gave it to me. Fair's fair." "Everything happens for a reason," the man smiles. It reminds you of a shark. You take a small step back. In the distance, you hear laughter and screaming and glass shattering. "Do you want to play a game? See if fate's at play here." [["Sure, I guess. If you'll let me go."|play]] [["N-no, thank you. I really have to go."|flee]]

The man pulls a coin from his pocket. "We'll determine it with a coin toss," he twirls the coin through his thick knuckles. His hands are big and scarred. Hands used for hurting people. "Determine what?" "Whether or not you keep the money, of course." There's more. But you have to play his game now. "Ready to play?" You stare at him, wide-eyed. Flakes of snow like sugar catch in his inky dark hair. A cold gust breathes over your bare legs. He flips the coin in the air. The toothy edge of the coin catches the light of a nearby streetlamp. He catches it and flips it onto the back of his hand. He looks up at you with eyes so dark that they seem to absorb the light. He isn't a large man, but he seems to take up a lot of space. Like the space molds around him. You shrink into your coat. "Call it." [["Heads."|heads]] [["Tails."|tails]]

You try to walk past him. His hand closes gently around your arm. His grip isn't bruising. But the threat is implicit. You freeze. "That's not how this works." He says. "Don't spoil my fun. We are going to play a little game." You stumble back, almost tripping over your pumps. You cling to the suitcase like a teddy bear. The man pulls a coin from his pocket. "Ready to play?" You stare at him, wide-eyed. Flakes of snow like sugar catch in his inky dark hair. A cold gust breathes over your bare legs. He flips the coin in the air. The toothy edge of the coin catches the light of a nearby streetlamp. He catches it and flips it onto the back of his hand. He looks up at you with eyes so dark that they seem to absorb the light. He isn't a large man, but he seems to take up a lot of space. Like the space molds around him. You shrink into your coat. "Call it." [["Heads."|heads]] [["Tails."|tails]]

He smiles and lifts his hand away. You practically lunge forward to see what way the coin is facing. Heads. A small sigh escapes you. He stuffs the coin back in his pocket. "Today's your lucky day, honey." He finishes his cigarette. A crown of smoke frames his head. He drops the cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with his foot. "Do you want to know where that money came from?" [["Does it matter?"|sass]] [["Do you know what happened?"|curious]]

He smiles and lifts his hand away. You practically lunge forward to see what way the coin is facing. Heads. You feel your heart drop straight through your ribcage, all the way down to your feet. You look up into his face. "Sorry, baby. I guess today isn't your lucky day." "Please--" He pulls his gun too fast for you to even follow the movement. [[He shoots you in the head.|Morgan2]] (set: $juliedead to true)

The man laughs. It's a harsh, grating sound, like he's crunching on glass. "You've got spunk. I like that," he stuffs his hands in his pockets. "You know what? Keep the money. You seem smart enough to stay out of trouble. Not like the dumbass who had that suitcase before you." "He's still alive. He can't be that dumb." He flashes the sharp edge of his brillant white teeth. "That's a temporary state of being." He reaches out and caresses your cheek. "I hope that money is worth it." He turns and walks away. [[You stand clutching the suitcase.|Begin]]

"That money was stolen. From a very powerful man." He is still wearing that terrible smile, like a hyena laughing at you before it rips into your chest. "Are you sure you want to keep it?" [["You can have it back. I don't want dirty money."|giveback]] [["Money is money is money."|sass]]

"I thought you had bigger balls than that," the man shrugs and takes the suitcase from your shaking hand. "But you're smarter than the last dumbass that had this suitcase." You were just talking to that dumbass a few minutes ago. His hand snaps out and closes around your chin and jaw. He squeezes your face. Hard. "Forget about everything you saw here." He's still smiling. "Just go back to your miserable, shitty little life. And be glad that fate was kind enough to let you survive a brush with death today." He releases you and walks away. You stare down the sidewalk, [[snow swirling in his wake.|Morgan2]]

(if: $juliedead is true)[How sad. The little prostitute was cute too.] You take the suitcase and walk away, whistling. You aren't sure about the name of the song. [[You think it's a Christmas song.|Begin]]

"Stay out of this, asshole." Your assailant yanks you against his chest. He reeks of weed, barbeque sauce, and unwashed skin. You gag. "No means no, even for prostitutes." You turn your head. A man in a black coat stands a few feet away. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. His jet black hair is brushed away from his bold features. He's not quite handsome, but he's got the kind of face you won't forget. Even for someone like you, who's more likely to look at the ceiling than in the faces of the men you have sex with. "Go fuck yourself." The man pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He taps a cigarette loose and tucks it in the corner of his mouth. He lights the cigarette. "I don't feel like playing games right now. I have more important shit to deal with." "What the fuck--" [[There's a loud pop.|justice]]

Blood and bone and brain spray everywhere. You gasp and jump out of the dead man's grasp. He slumps to the pavement. "Don't get your thong in a twist, baby," the man in black says. He has already put the gun away. "I don't want any trouble--" You start. "I'm not looking for trouble," he assesses you briefly. "Where would I be able to find you? If I want your services, of course." "I'm...I'm normally at the Pit. Or I'm at a corner in Teardrop's territory." He taps the side of his nose. His eyes are so dark. They seem to absorb the light. He fills the space around him, takes up more than his fair share. You feel like you don't have any breathing room. "I'll remember that. You're cute. Have a good night, baby." You stare after the man. You feel like you [[just brushed shoulders with the devil.|Begin]]

(set: $julie1 to true)

''//Sheriff's Deputy Adam Holland//'' There were two bodies. Out in the middle of the desert. The stench was terrible, you'll never forget it. They'd been there for a few days, baking under the hot New Mexico sun until they were extra crispy. You stare down at the laminated photos of the crime scene. One of the dead men was a known drug dealer. The second dead man was the estranged son of a wealthy local business owner. Also a known drug dealer. "You're gonna go blind if you keep staring at those pictures," Sheriff Talent stands next to your desk. You glance up at him. [["It was a drug deal gone wrong. Just sad that Jeb's boy was involved in it."|blunt]] [["I think there's something more to this case."|uncertain]] (set: $Adam to true) (set: $julie1 to false) (set: $julie to false)

"You won't catch me shedding any tears, that kid was a hellion," Sheriff Talent takes an enormous, wet bite of his apple. You wince as he chews loudly, apple juices dappling his thick mustache. "Entitled brat. Got in all kinds of trouble and Jeb kept bailing him out, until he found out that the boy was selling drugs for one of the big cartels. I can't believe he didn't end up dead in a ditch sooner." He shakes his head to himself as he walks away. [[You agree with Sheriff Talent.|abandon]] [[Thinking back on the crime scene makes you uneasy. Something hadn't seemed right that day...|challenge]]

"Boy, there ain't more to this case," Sheriff Talent chuckles to himself and pats your back. You try not to grind your teeth into dust. You resist the urge to shrug his hand away. "It was just a drug deal gone wrong. Yeah, Jeb's boy being there makes it complicated. But life is messy sometimes, boy." You hate that he still calls you boy. It makes your skin sit hot and rough on your bones. "I don't know. I just have a feeling in my gut." "Can't pursue a gut feeling." The sheriff takes a huge chomp on his apple. You don't imagine the dots of apple juice spraying across the picture. Your knuckles turn white from clenching your hand into such a tight fist. "What makes you think there's more to this case? Seems open and shut to me." [["I don't know."|concede]] [[Think about the crime scene. What did you see that day that is making you hesitate?|challenge]]

"That's right, you don't know." The sheriff taps his chest with a fist. "You don't have the experience I do. You've only been here for a year. Don't get too big for your britches this early on, boy. You still have a lot to learn." You take a measured breath. "Nice try, though, kid." Sheriff Talent smiles at you through his thick mustache. "Your day will come. You'll get that big case." Sheriff Talent walks away. You stare down at the photo. [[Just let it go.|abandon]] [[It suddenly feels very important that you prove Sheriff Talent wrong.|challenge]]

You stare quietly at the picture. The harsh New Mexico landscape couldn't quite be captured in a photograph--you needed to be out in that desert to really know the land--but it still transports you back to seeing the crime scene for the first time. The sun pounding down on top of your head, making your scalp boil with sweat. The hard blue sky rolling over the landscape, crunching into the jagged orange horizon, like shattered pieces of two different plates sliding against each other on the kitchen floor. They didn't fit together, and they almost seemed to be fighting each other, the sky and the land. Seemed like a decent enough place for a gun fight, for a drug deal gone wrong. You mentally picture the [[two bodies,|clue1]] sprawled under the hot New Mexico sun. [[Two cars|clue2]] had been parked nearby. You remembered tracing over [[two sets of footsteps|clue3]] in the loose sand. Coming across a [[gym bag full of drugs.|clue5]] There had been an [[empty gym bag|clue4]] discarded behind a rock. You might want to think back on the scene a few times. One glance at the information might not be helpful. [[You've thought about this for long enough.|truth]]

It wasn't the first time you'd seen a dead body. You remember seeing your grandpa in his coffin at his funeral, his bony brown hands folded neatly over his stomach. He had smelled weirdly sweet. But this was different. Both of these men had died violently. They had both been shot multiple times in the stomach. Money and drugs were on the line. They weren't going to be skimpy with bullets. They probably hadn't died right away, cooking under the sun, flies feasting on their skin while they were staring up at the sky waiting for death. You frown. [[There was nothing out of the oridinary about the bodies that you could remember.|challenge]]

Two cars, one belonging to the [[drug dealer,|clue2I]] the other to [[Jeb's boy.|clue2II]] [[You were done thinking about the cars.|challenge]]

You had wandered through the desert, following the different sets of footsteps. One had come from the drug dealer's car, another from Jeb's boy's car. Neither had returned. You stare down at the picture. You peer intently at a strange smudge in the corner. It looks like--you can't quite tell. You reach for a magnifying glass. It's another set of footsteps. You frown. You hadn't noticed that the first time. The pictures were taken before you and the other officers went onto the scene. If you had seen those footsteps afterwards, you had probably just figured it was another officer or one of the people from the coroner's office. Your stomach clenches. A third set of footsteps. [[Had someone else been at the crime scene before your people got there?|challenge]]

No one had thought much of the empty gym bag. It had probably had either money or drugs in it. Sheriff Talent had shrugged and said the contents had probably ended up in one of the three gym bags that had been found in the trunks of the cars. But that didn't make sense to you. It hadn't then, and it [[didn't now.|challenge]] (set: $clue4 to true)

Just a drug deal gone wrong. You push the file away. You push the case from your head. [[Just a drug deal gone wrong.|Begin]]

''//Ennard//'' The hot new Mexico hammers on the top of your skull. You feel almost dizzy out here in the middle of the desert, the orange land pushing against the blue sky like two fists coming together. Beads of sweat drip down your temples, seeping into your beard. The smell of heat and sand makes your nose and mouth feel like it's full of cotton. Every breath, you feel the desert sinking into your lungs. You didn't hear gunshots. They must have been dead for a few days. You stare down at the carnage, clutching the straps of your backpack. What happened here? Did matter? Orange sand whispers over your scuffed boots as you circle the two bodies. There are two cars nearby. You see a gym bag next to one of the bodies. You crouch and extend your arm as far as you can, nudging the bag open. Baggies of white powder are visible between the zipper teeth. Drug deal gone wrong. Your heart pounds. Maybe there's money nearby. You climb to your feet, head cranking around desperately. One man's misfortune is another man's fortune. A loud, wet cough sounds like a gunshot at your feet. You whip around. One of the two men is writhing on the ground. He squints up at you. Raises one bloody hand. "Help...me." [[Go and help him.|help]] [[He's dead anyway.|donthelp]] (set: $Ennard to true) (set: $Adam to false)

You picture the drug dealer's car. The seats had been ripped and sticky from sitting in the sun for so long. The AC was broken. Must've been hell on earth. The control panel was felted with dust. A photo of some model had been dangling from the rearview mirror. Fast food wrappers and empty water bottles had populated the backseat, along with a box of dirty magazines. Chip bags and beer cans had been piled on the passenger seat. There were two gym bags full of money in the trunk. It wasn't Jeb's boy who had come to the scene with money. Something about the gym bags [[seems important.|clue2]] (if: $clue5 is true)[The bag of drugs had been near Jeb. The empty gym bag must have had money it. So where had it gone?]

Jeb's boy had kept his car pretty clean for a drug dealer. Some dust on the control panel, a few fast food wrappers, but nothing horrible. It had been a nice car. There had been [[one gym bag packed with drugs|clue2]] in the trunk.

A gym bag of drugs had been near Jeb's boy. Probably in the middle of trading it off when they'd gotten into a disagreement about--something, probably the money--and started firing. [[Just a drug deal gone wrong in the middle of the desert.|challenge]] (if: $clue4 is true)[But that didn't make sense. What about the empty gym bag? There must have been money in that bag if they were in the middle of the trade off.]

You put the laminated photo down and force yourself back to the present. (if: $clue4 is true)[[[You think you have enough evidence to go the chief.|chief]]] [[You're chasing shadows. You don't have anything concrete enough to make a case to the chief.|abandon]]

You knock on Chief Donaldson's door. "What is it?" He's not a friendly man. You step into the office, holding the folder in front of you. It smells like coffee and cologne. He glances up at you through his beetled eyebrows. He's scribbling out notes in a different file. "What do you want, son?" "I wanted to talk to you about the drug case." "The one with Jeb's boy?" He drums his pen on his desk. "Make it quick." [["There was a third person."|threeppl]] [["Money was stolen from the crime scene."|money]]

"I found a third set of footprints in the photograph." You hand the photo to the chief. He squints at the spot you point to. "These photos were taken before we went onto the scene." The chief shrugs. "A jogger found the bodies. It's probably just their footsteps." [[You feel like an ass for wasting the chief's time.|apologize]] [["I also think that there was money taken from the crime scene."|money]]

"Now, what makes you say that?" He asks. "The empty gym bag. Jeb's boy never even gave the drugs to the other dealer. The drugs were still by him, and he came to the scene with the drugs. The empty gym bag belonged to the other dealer. They both died on the scene. So where did the money go? There was a third person at the crime scene. And I think he killed the other two dealers and ran off." The chief leans back in his chair and thinks for a long moment. "Who knows what kind of scavengers wander around the desert?" The chief spears you with a look. You stand up taller. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, son. But here's some advice for you. Dumb yourself down sometimes." You stiffen. He's telling you to look the other way. You meet his hard grey eyes. [["I understand, sir."|giveup]] [["What happened to justice, sir?"|confront2]]

"That makes sense," you say. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, chief." "Use your brain next time." He hands the photo back to you. [[You leave his office.|abandon]]

"Good." The chief nods. You turn and walk out of the office. "What were you talking to the chief about?" Sheriff Talent asks. "Nothing important." Sheriff Talent notices that you're holding the photograph. "Let it go, kid. It's [[just a drug deal gone wrong."|Begin]]

"Justice is for old westerns." The chief leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. "Don't put a white hat on, son. It'll just put a target on your back." "Then what's the point of us even being here?" "We aren't big time city cops. This is a small community. We need to protect it. And sometimes, well, that means looking the other way." Your chest burns. You think back to the day you were sworn in. You feel like a liar. "That money is dirty. Whoever has it now will get what's coming to them. Justice doesn't always need to come from people like us." The chief picks up his pen. You have been dismissed. You turn and walk out of the chief's office. As you put the file away, you find yourself thinking. But it was just a [[drug deal gone wrong.|Begin]]

The back of your shirt sticks to your body, saturated with sweat. You kneel down and hesitantly extend your hand towards the dying man. "Help...get...help..." Blood bubbles over his lips. He coughs again, spraying blood over the sand. You scramble back. His chest heaves, up and down. Barely alive. He's already dead. [[Find the money.|findmoney1]] (set: $blood to true)

You stare down at him briefly. You feel a twinge in your chest. "Help...me...help..." He coughs again, a sick, wet sound that makes your skin crawl. Blood sprays from his mouth and dampens the hem of your jeans. You stumble back. "Asshole," you mutter. Now...[[where's the money?|findmoney1]]

There's another gym bag nearby. The blood is rushing so fast through your veins that you think your skin must be vibrating. You unzip the bag. Green, so much green. You run a hand over your face. You slide your backpack off and hastily transfer the money into your bag. You toss the empty gym bag aside. As you pull your backpack on, the money is a comforting weight on your lower back. This is fate. You stare towards the horizon, the blue, blue horizon. [[Go north.|north]] [[Go south.|south]]

You came from the south. You want to keep going forward. North, it is. You cast a nervous glance over your shoulder as you walk. The dying man twitches, his bloody fingers clutching at nothing. You shiver and turn away. Money is money is money. You step around creosote bushes and cacti, climb over rocky outcroppings, and dodge around nests of snakes. Trying to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the dead men. The loud grumble of a car makes you freeze. You look up. See a car driving through the desert. [[Try to get their attention and hitch a ride.|hitch]] [[Hide.|hide]]

You came from the south. You decide to retrace your steps, maybe hitch a ride from the gas station you had been to earlier today. You start walking. You refuse to glance over your shoulder at the dying man. Money is money is money. You swerve around creosote bushes and feel sweat rolling down your temples like rain. As you walk, you see a car in the distance. [[Keep walking. Act like nothing is wrong.|subtle]] [[Try to hide.|hide2]]

You just need to get out of the sun. You wave your arms. The car slows down. "Hey, would you fellas be able to give me a ride to the nearest town?" You ask. The driver stares at you. He's a skinny Mexican kid. "Si," the man nods. "Get in." You open the back car door and sit down. You don't take the backpack off. "How'd you get all the way out here, gringo?" [["I'm a drifter. It's what I do."|honest]] [["Was out hiking. Got a little turned around."|lie]]

You throw yourself down behind a rock. As you sit and wait for the car to pass, the desert heat seems to punch you in the face. You're swimming in sweat. The car grows louder. It passes by the rock. Doesn't slow down. You release a slow, shaky breath. You climb to your feet and start walking. You don't know how long you walk. The sun begins to sink towards the horizon, like it's grown lethargic from the desert heat. The world seems to waver and warp in front of you. You reach a small town. You hurry through the steaming streets, looking for a grocery store. The car you saw in the desert is sitting outside [[the grocery store.|store]]

Just play it cool. Don't act like you have a couple thousand dollars in your backpack. It's a nice car. You swallow the lump in your throat. Two men sit in the front seat. One of them looks like a drug dealer. The car slows down. Shit. [[Run.|run]] [[Stop.|stop]]

You throw yourself down behind a rock. As you sit and wait for the car to pass, the desert heat seems to punch you in the face. You're swimming in sweat. The car grows louder. It passes by the rock. Doesn't slow down. You release a slow, shaky breath. You climb to your feet and start walking. You quickly come to the gas station. You buy a bottle of water. The car that passed through the desert pulls into the gas station. Two Mexican men get out of the car and come into the gas station. They go to the aisle with chips. "Hombre," a voice calls. You freeze. [[Turn and acknowledge them.|interact2]] [[Ignore them and leave.|ignore2]]

You dash the other way. There's a rocky outcropping in the distance. If you can jump down onto that, the car won't be able to follow you. An obstacle course of cacti is between you and the outcropping. That'll just slow them down. Tires crunch over sand and stone. You glance over your shoulder. A cloud of gold dust billows behind the car as it races towards you. It mows through cacti and creosote. You whip around and push yourself. You call on your days in the army and push yourself to just fucking run. [[Jump.|jump]]

You come to a halt. No point in running, it'll just get you the wrong kind of attention. The driver rolls his window down. "Hey, gringo," the skinny Mexican man eyes you with dark eyes. "You see a man walking around out here. Skinny gringo like you, wearing a hoodie?" That sounds just like the dying man. You offer a brittle smile. "Uh, no, no, sir." The man stares at you. The passenger says something in rapid Spanish. [["I'll just be on my way."|caught]] [[Stay silent.|silence]]

"Hey now, we didn't say we were done with you, hombre." The man makes a laconic gesture towards your backpack. "What's in the bag?" Your mouth flaps open and closes. [[Run!|run]]

The passenger says something else in the ensuing silence. You try to look innocent. The driver nods at something he says. Without another word, the car takes off into the desert. You breathe a sigh of relief. You keep walking until you get to a small town. For the first time in a long time, you get to stay in a hotel. The next day, you buy a car from a local dealer. You haven't owned a car in a while. Your ex-wife took the car when she left you for her pretty little boyfriend. Maybe you'll pay them a visit. Or send someone to pay them a visit, anyway. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]] (set: $Ennard to true)

You throw yourself forward, pitching over the small cliff onto an orange fist of rock. The way down is steeper than you thought. You slip on the surprisingly smooth surface of rock. Your scream is swallowed by the desert as you tumble ass over tea kettle down the outcropping. [[Your head slams onto a rock.|Javier]]

''//Javier//'' "Think that's Casey's money?" Eduardo asks. You stare down at the dead drifter. His backpack split open and vomitted money everywhere when he fell. You shrug. "Probably." "We need to get it back to the chief." Your hand wanders to the gun in your waistband. Out in the desert, anything can happen. And you aren't scared of the chief. Eduardo doesn't even see it coming. You pull the gun and shoot him in the head. Blood sprays onto the orange desert sand. You stoop down and take the money. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]] (set: $Javier to true)

"How'd you end up driftin'?" "I'm a vet. Not much room left for me in the world." "You fought in the war?" "I was in 'Nam, yeah." The man nods in silent approval. "Name's Javier, this is Eduardo." The man in the passenger seat waves. The rest of the drive is silent. Your shoulders are soaked in sweat. You chew at your chapped lips. Pray to god that the men don't ask to see what's in the bag. They pull up to the edge of a small, dusty town. "This okay, gringo?" You nod and get out of the car. "Thanks, fellas." [[Give them some money for their troubles.|confrontation]] [[Walk away.|survive]]

You watch the eyes of the men. They look at each other. You turn away, tugging nervously at your beard. The rest of the drive is silent. Your shoulders are soaked in sweat. You chew at your chapped lips. Pray to god that the men don't ask to see what's in the bag. They pull into a small, dusty town. "This okay, gringo?" You nod and get out of the car. "Thanks, fellas." [[Get out of the car.|out]]

You pull some singles out of your backpack and try to hand it to the driver. His eyes glitter like the edge of a knife. "Where'd you get that money, gringo?" He asks as he accepts the money. He runs his fingers over it. You shrug. He pulls a gun from his waistband. "Give me the backpack, hombre." You stare at him. [[Give him the backpack.|survive2]] [[Refuse.|die]]

You nod silently to the men. Without another word, the car takes off into the desert. You breathe a sigh of relief. You turn and wander into the small town. For the first time in a long time, you get to stay in a hotel. The next day, you buy a car from a local dealer. You haven't owned a car in a while. Your ex-wife took the car when she left you for her pretty little boyfriend. Maybe you'll pay them a visit. Or send someone to pay them a visit, anyway. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]]

"No." You stammer. "Fuck you." You turn and start running. But the bullet [[chases you into the back of your skull.|javier3]]

You stomach clenches like a fist. You slowly take the backpack off. "Put it in the backseat." The man says. You do. "Don't look so sad, gringo. Be glad you even got to keep your life." The car revs and drives away. You stare after it and feel another small part of yourself [[die.|javier2]]

''//Javier//'' You stare at the horizon as you drive. Plumes of gold sand billow out behind the car. The backpack full of money bounces around in the backseat. "Chief's gonna be happy with us," Eduardo comments as he munches on a bag of chips. "We got the money back. What do you think happened to Casey?" "Probably dead." "Think the drifter killed him?" "Nah, he didn't look like he had it in 'im." Your eyes slide towards the backpack. You push on the brake. "What, did you see something, bro?" Eduardo asks. You come to a halt. The desert seems to pound on the windows, trying to get in. You pull a gun. Eduardo stares at you. "Get out of the car." He does. You get out too. "Bro, what are you doing?" He sounds panicked. "Chief's gonna kill you if you take his money. Don't do this--" A gun shot echoes through the desert. You leave Eduaro's body in the dust as you drive away. [[You aren't scared of the Chief anymore.|Begin]]

''//Javier//'' You stare at the horizon as you drive. Plumes of gold sand billow out behind the car. The backpack full of money bounces around in the backseat. "Chief's gonna be happy with us," Eduardo comments as he munches on a bag of chips. "We got the money back. What do you think happened to Casey?" "Probably dead." "Think the drifter killed him?" The drifter's body is in the trunk. "Nah, he didn't look like he had it in 'im." Your eyes slide towards the backpack. You push on the brake. "What, did you see something, bro?" Eduardo asks. You come to a halt. The desert seems to pound on the windows, trying to get in. You pull a gun. Eduardo stares at you. "Get out of the car." He does. You get out too. "Bro, what are you doing?" He sounds panicked. "Chief's gonna kill you if you take his money. Don't do this--" A gun shot echoes through the desert. You leave Eduaro's body in the dust as you drive away. [[You aren't scared of the Chief anymore.|Begin]]

"Wait," the driver calls. You hesitantly turn and face him. "When you were out hiking, did you see or hear...anything strange?" [["No, I didn't."|lie2]] [["I think I may have heard gunshots."|truth2]] (set: $truth to true)

(if: $truth is true)["Gunshots?" He repeats. "Where did you hear gunshots?"](if: $lie is true)["Where did you hear them?"] "To the south." The man nods to his companion. "Gracias," he says. Without another word, the car takes off into the desert. You breathe a sigh of relief. You turn and wander into the small town. For the first time in a long time, you get to stay in a hotel. The next day, you buy a car from a local dealer. You haven't owned a car in a while. Your ex-wife took the car when she left you for her pretty little boyfriend. Maybe you'll pay them a visit. Or send someone to pay them a visit, anyway. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]]

"You sure about that, hombre?" "Yeah, I'm sure." "A'ight. See, because me and my friend heard gunshots when we were out there. Surprised you didn't." [["You must be mistaken."|lie3]] [["I think I might've heard something."|truth2]] (set: $lie to true)

"Hard to mistake the sound of gunshots." The man pulls his shirt up, revealing a gun in his waistband. "What's in your backpack?" You stutter but stay silent. "Give me the backpack, hombre." You stare at him. [[Give him the backpack.|survive2]] [[Refuse.|die]]

There's a teenaged girl behind the counter. You nod to her as you walk through the aisles. Bright white cooler cases line the back wall. You see bottles of water. You feel like your entire body is squelching as you practically run to the back of the store. You pass two Mexican men who are perusing shelves of chips. They glance at you, give you a look, but otherwise ignore you. You release the breath you didn't know you were holding. You grab a bottle of water and pay for it at the counter. "Hombre," a voice calls. You freeze. [[Turn and acknowledge them.|interact]] [[Ignore them and leave.|ignore]]

"Uh, hi, yeah, what do you need?" You turn and face the man. He's skinny with a shaven hand and a gold chain around his throat. "You got a single I could borrow? Don't have quite enough." He says in thickly accented English. [[Give him a single.|reveal]] [[Refuse him.|refuse]]

You pretend that you don't hear them and walk out of the store. That night, for the first time in a long time, you get to stay in a hotel. The next day, you buy a car from a local dealer. You haven't owned a car in a while. Your ex-wife took the car when she left you for her pretty little boyfriend. Maybe you'll pay them a visit. Or send someone to pay them a visit, anyway. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]] (set: $Ennard to true)

You hesitantly reach into your backpack and pull out a single. You pass it to him. His eyes are glittering. You grab your bottle of water and run from the store. You find a hotel to spend the night. You glance over our shoulder constantly as you are checking in at the desk. That night, you barricade the door. You sit in the armchair in the corner of the room and stare at the door all night. When morning finally comes, your head feels fuzzy and thick. You blink and scrub at your eyes as you sling your bag on and go to the local car dealership. The car dealer leaves you alone to figure out which car you want. You stare at the car, fiddling with the keys. You can feel yourself nodding off. For the moment, a world goes dark. "Hey, hombre, how you doin'?" The two Mexican men are suddenly there. [["What do you want from me?"|pathetic]] [["Leave me alone."|aggressive]]

"Sorry, I don't have any change." You turn and walk out of the store. That night, for the first time in a long time, you get to stay in a hotel. The next day, you buy a car from a local dealer. You haven't owned a car in a while. Your ex-wife took the car when she left you for her pretty little boyfriend. Maybe you'll pay them a visit. Or send someone to pay them a visit, anyway. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]] (set: $Ennard to true)

"Were you out in the desert yesterday, gringo?" The man asks. "No, I don't know what you want from me." You start to back away. "Look, I'm just a vet. My wife ditched me for her boyfriend and I lost my job and I have no money left. Please, just leave me alone." "Javier," the bigger man reaches out and puts his hand on Javier's shoulder. He says something in rapid Spanish. Javier glares into your face. Silently, the two men turn and walk away. "Did you decide which car you want, sir?" The dealer approaches you from behind. You almost punch him in the face. But you manage to buy the car without resorting to violence. Barely forty five minutes later, you are peeling out of the small town. You stare at the backpack, bouncing around in the backseat. It's dirty money, for sure. But money is money is money. [[And that money might finally let you get revenge on all the people who crossed you.|Begin]]

"You got a problem, gringo?" The man practically snarls at you. "What's in the bag?" "That's none of your business. Get the fuck away from me." You turn away from the two men. "I'm just asking you a question." "I'm calling the police if you don't leave me alone--" A gun presses into your lower back. "You move, I shoot you. You're coming with us." [[Run.|flee2]] [[Follow their directions.|javier3]]

You whip around and punch the man in the face. He reels back, the gun flying from his hand. Before his friend can grab you, you climb into the car and lock the doors. The two men slam on the windows as you jam the keys into the ignition. The smaller of the two men tries running after you through the dealership lot. But he quickly gives up. You shoot out of town in your stolen vehicle, the backpack of money in the passenger seat. Jesus, this was some dirty money. But [[money is money is money.|Begin]]

You pretend that you don't hear them. You turn and walk out of the gas station, walking around the side of the building to set off into the desert. It isn't long before you hear them calling after you again. You dash the other way. There's a rocky outcropping in the distance. If you can jump down onto that, they might not follow you. You aren't in shape anymore, but you might be able to outrun them. There's shouting behind. You glance over your shoulder. The two men are pounding through the desert, chasing after you. You whip around and push yourself. You call on your days in the army and push yourself to just fucking run. [[Jump.|jump]]

You hesitantly reach into your backpack and pull out a single. You pass it to him. His eyes are glittering. "Looks like you've got a lot of money in there," the man says. "Hey, I don't want any trouble." The clerk says. "Where'd you get that money, gringo?" "Hey, what did I say--" The man pulls a gun and shoots the clerk. Blood sprays over the wall. You stare at the men as he levels the gun at you. "Give me the bag." [[Give him the backpack.|survive3]] [[Refuse.|die2]]

"Sorry, I don't have any change." You turn and walk out of the store. You don't know how long you walk. The sun begins to sink towards the horizon, like it's grown lethargic from the desert heat. The world seems to waver and warp in front of you. You reach a small town. That night, for the first time in a long time, you get to stay in a hotel. The next day, you buy a car from a local dealer. You haven't owned a car in a while. Your ex-wife took the car when she left you for her pretty little boyfriend. Maybe you'll pay them a visit. Or send someone to pay them a visit, anyway. [[Money is money is money.|Begin]]

You stomach clenches like a fist. You slowly take the backpack off. "Give it to me." The man says. You do. "Don't look so sad, gringo. Be glad you even got to keep your life. Unlike that poor bastard." He gestures to the dead clerk. The two men return to their car and drive away. You stare after it and feel another small part of yourself [[die.|javier2]]

"No." You stammer. "Fuck you." You turn and start running. But the bullet [[chases you into the back of your skull.|javier3]]

Morgan "How much will you pay me?" You ask. "Name your price." You do. The man balks, and you smile. "Can we negotiate--" "I won't take the job." "Okay," he swallows. "We are in agreement then?" [["Yes, I'll get the money back for you."|huntpt1]]

This is a simple job. Get back some stolen money for a drug cartel. Easy peesy, lemon squeezy. They give you some information. Some idiot guy took the money. You barely glance twice at his name.