Living Life with Rose Colored Glasses

Featured Items: [Cubic Cherry] {Mako} sunglasses (Collabor88) & -DRD- Garden Party Gacha  (Store)

For the last few years, after he’d decided not to work for The Family any more, he had found an inner peace. But he’d found trouble, as well. Trouble because you only left “The Life” in a coffin. They never just let you leave. Sooner or later they would find you, if you tried.

Han Dango had decided to not let that stop him, when he disappeared from the Carbonis services. He’d made a good few years, living outside that bubble of darkness. He’s started to build a life, a home, a new beginning.

Of course they found him, by dumb luck, chance, or some karmatic conjunction that came back to haunt him. The bill had come due, and others had paid the price. Vern and Sancho both had been taken. He didn’t know they were dead, but he felt it a strong possibility. But there was a strong chance they’d keep them alive for questioning. It was a small window of opportunity – to find his friends and take down the one’s responsible.

Maybe it would take him being calm, thoughtful, perhaps level headed and logical to get this job done. But they had taken his friends – innocents that didn’t know jack shit about Dango’s past. A couple of nerds that made him smile – that’s all they were. Sure they weren’t total numbskulls – they knew he had a past that he didn’t talk about. They knew he was good at certain things, and he’d saved their asses a time or two from hard case bullies and thugs when they’d been naive enough to stray into the wrong side of town.

Logically, that was what had gotten him into trouble. What had outed him to the watchers, informants, or who ever it was that had fingered him to The Carbonis.

Logic and calm – those were how to really plan out a campaign for success and attack.

But that required time. Time and deliberate recon and .. well.. planning.

Dango was pissed. He wasn’t thinking calm or logically, save in a rough kind of way.

Bad guys took his friends, therefore bad guys had to die.

He didn’t have time to be careful. He had to save his friends. Otherwise, they’d torture, maim, dismember and murder them.
He couldn’t let that happen.

Opening a black suede covered hard case, he pulled out his rose colored glasses. They were a particular shade of rose that he’d had custom made for when he was ‘working’. They had special properties, as well, but he left those off for now. He only wore these when he was working, and they helped him focus on making things go right.

Time to go to work.

So after he slipped on his shades, Dango revved the engine a few times – the shimmering black Impala was old, from the mid 60s. He’d restored it with his two friend’s help. Now it was going to be the rescue wagon.

The warehouse in front of him was poorly lit, for a place that was supposed to be a secure facility. There were cameras posted in various places, and maybe they had IR systems. Dango didn’t care. He was going in hard and fast. Literally.

He gunned the engine and was thrown back in the seat as he accelerated hard.

Then he popped the nitrous switch, and it was like he was launching into orbit.

He smashed through the chain-link gate like a rocket on steroids, and then launched through the aluminum garage door, parting the metal like tissue paper from a bullet.

Just on the other side, he plowed through a table full of goons that had been eating take out and playing cards or toying with their smartphones. Those goons never got back up – 5 of them went down.

The car skidded to a stop, and then he killed the engine. Smoke rose from the black tire tracks he’d left on the floor and the unfortunate bodies that lay smashed or crushed or just battered into pulp by the violence of the car mowing into them.

Jared and Joker in his hands (he’d named his guns), he leaped out of the car. There were shouts as several goons that had been elsewhere in the warehouse came running with their own firepower on display – machine guns and knives in hand. A hail of bullets sprayed randomly around Dango’s position, missing him entirely.

Dango took aim with the ‘dynamic duo’, and snarled as he squeezed the triggers on each of the pistols, the recoil shuddering his shoulders as they launched their harsh projectiles. The bullets blew through body armor, flesh and bone – each shot taking down a goon. The bad guys weren’t the only ones with armor piercing rounds.

He shot 4 altogether, and then snarled as another one came out at him from his blind side with a sword -that’s right – a fucking sword. He couldn’t believe it! This guy looked over muscled and over brow-ridged, with cherry-red hair and a neck beard. He burly, but far too quick for what you would expect from someone his size. Dango grinned as he dodged the blade, hearing it as it sang through the air at him. This guy was pretty damned good, and it was all Dango could do to evade each attempted blow.

The swordsman kept pressing his advantage, and Dango was retreating step by step. He had to leap to the side at one point, as the over-sized pigsticker made a massive upswing that took him by surprise, falling backwards just in time, but still, the blade caught his shirt, parting the fabric open like he’d not fully buttoned up before coming to this garden party.

As he tumbled backwards, he rolled and pushed off in a spring, leaping over the swordsman, and landing behind him, twisting around, and ducking to the side, anticipating the hard swinging down-cut that he knew must come after his acrobatics. He swept the red-head’s left leg, throwing him off balance, putting him on his ass, and then – leveled Jared and Joker at the man. Two rounds to the chest and one to the head ended the threat, as blood and brains splattered from the back of the man’s head.

Dango nodded once, as if acknowledging that he’d put the threat down, then glanced around at the interior of the place. The warehouse was strange – there was a lot of open floorspace, but towards the center was what appeared to be a greenhouse with a garden area outside it.

The greenhouse was made of what looked like glass panes with a steel framed structure. The panes were fogged with humid condensation and garden area outside the structure was well lit. He didn’t see anyone outside – the goons were all either inside, or he’d exhausted their supply.

Outside the greenhouse, there were planters and troughs filled with soil and loamy earth, and you could smell the nature all around it. Earth, the fragrance of plants and flowers, the smell of water and fertilizer.

It was mostly ferns, shrubs and small trees outside the greenhouse. He adjusted his glasses, turned on the heads-up display, and looked for targets – heat signatures – nearby. Yeah, these glasses weren’t just for show or for a fashion statement, or a sunny cliche’. They had a purpose.

He started his jogging crouch towards the greenhouse and he could see 4 heat signatures inside now, as he got close. His scan of the surrounding warehouse showed only rats and a squirrel or two, otherwise. He made it to the doorway, and pushed his way through, the door having been left ajar. He was greeted by a wall of flowers in clay pots, with various colors – blue, yellow, red and white petaled plants. They each had a smell unique to themselves, but mixed with all the other scents surrounding him, which just irritated his allergies somewhat. He stiffled a sneeze before moving on.

He crouched low and went through an inner door that was 10 feet inside the first one, and found the steamy, almost jungle like humidity of the inner room. The greenhouse was perhaps 100 feet long and 40 wide, if not a little wider. But there was a clear space at the center. Pipes and hoses with spraynozzles designed to simulate rain were linked throughout the ceiling, sitting a few feet below the lighting fixtures. The floor was concrete with drains every so many feet, and the wooden troughs for soil left room for 3 feet wide pathways on either side of the middle planters.

At the center sat 2 metallic chairs with arms, seemingly old furniture from some 50’s era office. They were occupied by his two friends – Vern and Sancho.

Dango’s white mane was flowing down his shoulders, whips of the fine mane sweeping behind him as he stalked his prey. HIs black shirt sleeves rolled up, and his weapons harnesses under each shoulder, his pale tattooed skin showed up somehow even more pale in the stark light of the heat and light of the sun lamps that burned around the greenhouse. His black claw-like nails glinted dully in the light of the chamber, and his snakebites likewise caught the light with little flairs, drawing attention to them, and his firm but determined lips. The large ornate cross emblazoned on his chest seemed almost like a beacon of sanctuary or holy vengeance as he stalked towards the center clearing.

Vern let out a gasp, “Holy shit! Dango! What.. “

The two men standing in front of the hapless boys turned and their eyes widened. One was wearing a white business suit with a black silk tie and blood-red silk shirt, expensive Italian leather shoes. His hair gleamed with pomade, sleek and slicked straight back from his forehead and behind his ears. It brushed at the shoulders. He had 3 days worth of stubble, and a cultivated mustache, and appeared to be in his mid-40s. The other was in a better looking suit than the goons that he’d taken down near the entrance, and a step above the swordsman, as well. But still, he was a beefy, musclebound gun-toting goon. Short blond hair, and a shoulder harness, and a knife – standard issue for these guys. He was wearing a black cotton, but expensive, shirt, with a gray tie and black linen pants with pleats, and shiny leather shoes that could have almost been boots.

So the man in the expensive suit and slicked back hair was in charge of the interrogation, Dango thought. The Prime Goon reached for his pistol, and Dango shot him 3 times in the chest, right over his left breast. The man gurgled blood and dropped like a stone. The man in the expensive suit’s eyes widened, and he dropped the knife he had in his hand.

“You’re making one hell of a big mistake..” The mobster said.

Dango snarled and shot him between the eyes. His expression looked surprised , and he slumped slowly to the floor, almost as if something were trying to keep him standing.

Maybe it was the pomade.

Vern and Sancho, both looking, in succession, terrified, elated, terrified, and then relieved, as their captors fell to the ground under the firepower of Dango’s artillery, both let out a relieved sigh.

Vern was wearing a black T-shirt that said, “Greedo didn’t shoot first!” with a graphic on the front that had been freeze-framed image from an original Star Wars video, showing Han Solo blasting the alien in the cantina. The boy was wearing dark gray sweatpants that were loose and showed his boxers at the waist, and socks of two different colors. His shoulder-length dirty blond hair had been pulled up into a man-bun and he looked like he hadn’t had a shave in a week. Or two. But he sported 2 black eyes and a bloody nose, and looked like he’d been put in a blender with little cuts on his arms and fingertips. He was missing a fingernail on one hand.

Sancho was clean shaven – he never seemed to grow hair on his body, except his annoyingly lush mane of long brown hair that reached down halfway to his ass, and had a sheen to it that made you think he washed and conditioned it about every day, and brushed it 1000 times before bed. He was wearing black jeans, a red T-shirt with the yellow lightning bolt of “The Flash” on it, and his numerous piercings were mostly in place. All except one of his snakebites apparently had been ripped out, and painfully so, from his swollen lip. He was the least worse for wear.

They both started to pepper Danger with questions, but the beautifully handsome rescuer held up one of his guns and shook his head. “Not now. Let’s get you two wonder-twins out of here. “

They shushed, as Dango grabbed the knife from the well dressed man on the floor, and used it to cut the plastic zip-ties that held the two boy’s arms and legs to the chair, and then pushed, cajoled and pressed them to run for the Impala.

He bundled them in, and slammed the door, gunned the engine and turned the car around, and headed for the ruined garage door. He roared out into the night, and left the trail of bodies behind.

No one messed with his friends. As geeky as they were, even. No one.

“What the hell happened back there, Han,” Sancho said, in his cultured British accent, just loud enough to be heard over the purring engine as Dango drove hard and fast away from the scene.

“Yeah- that was.. Awesome what you just did,” Vern chimed in, his voice sounding like his voice had never broke at puberty. “Not just what you did, but how you did it. I mean.. “ The young man was going to continue with a litany of compliments, Dango knew, if he didn’t cut him off.

“Hey.. Vern.. Sancho.. Its my fault you guys got nicked by those thugs,” he started to say, as he glanced in the rear view at Sacho, in the backseat, and Vern in the passenger-side seat beside him.

“We know you left the mob – but.. Why did they find you now?”

Dango narrowed his eyes and frowned, “What makes you think I worked for the … “

Sancho smirked and Vern guffawed and chuckled in the seat beside him. “We might be nerds, Han, but we’re not stupid. Naive, yes. Stupid, no. You left enough evidence that we pieced it together. “

“The mobster boys told you while they were torturing you, didn’t they,” Dango said with a wry smile.

The boys both look sheepish, and Dango could see he’d come close to the mark with that comment. “Ok well we didn’t KNOW.. but we suspected,” Sancho admitted.

Vern agreed with a vigorous nod and said, enthusiastically, “At least you weren’t a Russian sleeper agent on the run, or an alien super-spy. That’s what Sancho thought. “

The banter went on and on, despite their obvious injuries. The rescued boys were getting the fear and loathing out of their system, and Dango just smiled and let them natter on. After all, things were going to be ok now, right? He wasn’t just living life with rose colored glasses on. He was living life, period.

And that’s what really mattered.

~~ Fini~~

Story by: Dehrynn Shepherd

Body:
Hair- Moon. Hair. // Barracuda (Store)

Outfit:
Shirt- ::GB::Strap open shirt (TMD)
Jeans- not so bad . KEANU jeans . (TMD)
Choker- [Gild] Studded choker (The Darkness)
Glasses- [Cubic Cherry] {Mako} sunglasses (Collabor88)
Guns- H&S MetalWorks Desert Eagle (Store)

Tattoos:
*Bolson / – Vergilivs (TMD)

Decor:
Flowers- -DRD- Garden Party Gacha  (Store)

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