Post by yolanda7h on Apr 22, 2010 17:32:31 GMT -5
Hi, my name is Yols and this is my 3rd character. Something you should know about me is that this character is a bit different from what I'm used to playing, so bare with me as I try to wiggle my way into this one 
.
Canon: The Outsiders
Custom Title: Hardened beyond caring
PHYSICAL
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: When you look at Dallas, you know three things. He's tough, he's cold, and he's mean. He has mostly lengthy dark hair. He's master at hiding his emotions (if he harbors any at all) and its hard to read him most, if not all of the time. He's simply a rock. His stature is tall, strong, fit, and conditioned for physical fighting.
Height: 6' 2"
Body: Fit
Other distinguishing features: Tattoo, a Celtic design on his back.
Wardrobe:His wardrobe mostly consists of jeans, graphic t-shirts, jackets and the occasional hoodie, all in dark colors. He often wears white wife beaters. He usually goes for anything cheap that he can just throw on.[/ul]
Play By: Josh Hartnett
PERSONALITY
General personality: Dally is exactly the way he looks. Very tough, very cold. Living out on the streets, being in jail, has made him numb to a lot of things. In other words, he holds hatred to "the whole world." The people that matter most do not care whether he's alive or dead and he's been exposed to things simply unimaginable at a young age. This has made him view the world as his playground, his playground without rules. He sees no reason to become attached, or invested in other people because the world has shown him that it doesn't pay. It only pays to fend for yourself. Through his eyes, the world is only full of people who want to kill each other and either they act out on that impulse or they don't. Either way, there is no point in caring. His idea of life is to do as much damage as possible and have as much fun as you can doing it. Besides...everyone else is, whether they admit it or not.
Because of this, he's blunt, unapologetic, and tougher than most. He's wild, and some may argue...just a bit crazy. He takes pride in his notorious reputation and police record, and everyone knows you just don't mess with Dallas. You don't tell him what to do. You don't argue. He holds no hesitation in hurting someone. No filter. Nothing. It'll be just you and Dallas' fist.
Yet somewhere in Dallas there's a soft spot, it's just extremely hard to get to. He is extremely loyal to the Greasers, especially Johnny Cade. He likes to have fun, being going to parties, causing ruckus when he can, or going to movies. And the only thing he will do honestly is racing horses as a jockey. He will also put himself and his life on the line when it comes right down to it.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: "Helping people? Doesn't do any good." "I'll kill you." "Fucker."
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
BACKGROUND
Family: Michelle Winston & John Williams (separated and very loosely called "family")
Education: High school drop out
Occupation: Assistant trainer and jockey at Belmont Park
Worst past experience: Being told at an early age that he wasn't even supposed to exist. Going to jail.
Best past experience: Committing arson back when he was on his 3 year criminal streak...and getting away with it.
Image: No one messes with Dally, simple as that. People tend to be afraid of him and no one dares talks down about him to his face, "not even Darry." He's cold, tough, and just on the tip of going off the deep end. His criminal reputation proceeds him. His low, deep, almost throaty voice is empty, even, unwavering. People are convinced that nothing can get to Dally. Nothing. He is the master of being fearless, even if he pretends to be.
History:
(Note. For this site, since Windrixville is a fictional place, for The Outsiders canon, Windrixville will be stationed as a neighborhood in NYC instead of Oklahoma, with an east/west side. I'm also giving myself permission to godmod people in this history sample lol...its just history, not an Rp Sample, so I won't change the colors.
Also, since i'm the first in this canon, I'll explain the Soc/Greaser rivalry here, but anyone who comes after me does not need to do that.)
One of the officers stood against the wall. He was nearly bald and had a look on his face. A look of pity. Or anger. A condensing look most likely. Whatever it was, Dally didn't like it. He sat back in his chair, at the table, with face of stone. Arms crossed over his chest.
"This guy thinks he's real cool, doesn't he? A real smart ass." Baldy said.
Dally gave a hint of a smirk. "Well, you know...I don't react well to cops."
Baldy approached the table, put both hands on it, leaned on it. An attempt to be threatening. "Get that grin off your face. What, you think this is a game?"
Dally kept eye contact with him. He didn't flinch. His voice deep and dark he said, "Hm. I kinda think its real goddamn funny."
The other officer, blonde hair, a real gallant looking fella, approached shuffling through papers. "...let's just get this shit over with." He pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards. Baldy reluctantly pulled up a chair as well.
"State your full name." Blondie commanded.
Dally sighed with a bit of boredom. "Dallas Earl Winston."
"Where do you stay?" Looks like Blondie would take charge of this little interview.
"Around."
"You don't have a permanent residence?"
Dally sighed again, sat up in his chair and leaned forward, looking at him. "Didn't I say 'around'?"
Baldy decided to jump in. "Look, if this is you avoiding our questions--"
"East side of Windrixville. That's where my folks stay." He told them, sitting back in his chair.
"Do your folks know you're here?" Blondie asked.
Dally looked at the both of them for a moment, as if they asked the dumbest question in the world. To Dally, they did. "They don't give a shit where I am." He said, his expression unreadable and emotionless. His parents partied through most of their teen years and adult life and partied themselves into having a child they didn't want. His dad's only role in Dally's life was paying child support. His mom used it for her drug addiction. Dally stayed on the streets for most of his childhood and teen years. His dad told him he was a mistake.
"Yeah, no kidding." Baldy mumbled.
"You work?" Blondie asked, moving on.
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Got a job up at Belmont Park as an assistant trainer and a jockey." Dally explained. Since he was on probation around the time he was 14, he was forced to volunteer. At Belmont Park, he took care of the horses, prepared and groomed them. He liked it and the workers gave him a job. He met one of his good friends, Buck Merill there. They gambled on the races and make a good amount of money. Buck betted on the rigged games. Dallas didn't. "That was before I got put in."
Blondie shuffled through the papers. "How many times where you arrested?"
"Ain't that all in my records, big man?" Dally asked coolly. "Impressed, ain't ya?"
"Yes," He looked up. "But I just want to see if you can be honest for once in your life."
"Maybe once." He said with a smirk.
"Answer the question." Baldy demanded.
"Fuck," Dallas swore without any intensity and sat back in his chair. "Hell if I know. You guys always seem to get me for somethin, right?" His dark eyes snapped towards Baldy. "Better watch your fuckin tone with me, man."
Baldy started to stand but Blondie quickly continued his questioning. "Says here more than 10. Actually, your first arrest was at the age of ten."
For the first time, a smile spread across Dally's face. A smile of pride. "That's right."
"And you were in prison for about a year. Just recently got out on good behavior. Involved with a gang shooting, is that right?"
Dallas rudely turned his head and spit on the ground. "Yeah." He said, no remorse in his tone whatsoever. Got involved in a bad situation at the wrong time. At 16 he went on a wild rampage for three years in New York's toughest streets, getting mixed up in all kinds of mess. One of them being rival gangs. Two hoodlums he was staying with at the time decided to rush a member of a rival gang. Attempted shoot and run. Unfortunately they got caught. Dallas had nothing to do with the murder but he was prepared to kill anyone who stood in their way. They found the gun on his person and he was found guilty with the rest of them.
"And let me guess, you weren't the one that pulled the trigger." Baldy said incredulously.
Dally gave a mischievous grin. "Not that time."
"So you're free now. Why mess it up by stealing? Says you..." Blondie looked at the papers again. "Says you were with a group at the time?"
"Yeah." They were the Greasers. Bunch of guys who lived on the east side. The name stuck because they were the ones on the poor side of town. The side of town where the guys wear their hair long, wear messy clothes, and drive run down cars. The side of town where the only businesses that could be sustained were gas stations, and dying used car establishments where many people worked. Lots of dirty, greasy clothes in that part of town. Kinda why the name 'Greasers' stuck.
Dally met the gang of Greasers not long after he was put on probation. He became good friends with them. They were a knot in Dally's philosophy for the world. After telling himself he wouldn't do shit for anyone else, he kept to that rule. But he caught himself being stupid many times when it came to the Greasers. One time he took the blame for Two-bit Mathews breaking some windows. That explained one out of the many arrests on his record. And Johnny Cade. Dally thought that, maybe, he'd do anything for that kid.
"Says that you were attacked not long before the incident?"
"That's what you call that?" Dally retorted. "That wasn't an attack. It was a sorry ass attempt at trying to be hard. Damn Socs."
Socs. Short for 'socials.' Those were the people that lived on the other side of Windrixville. The west side. The middle class side. As far as Dally was concerned, the rich side. The side that drove sports cars, worked at country clubs, had everything handed to them. Needless to say, the Socs and the Greasers didn't get along. The rivalry was long standing.
Dally was getting bored. "Listen, you guys gonna put me back in jail or what? I'd rather be there than sit here with you and play 21 questions." He rolled his eyes. "Shit...you ain't got proof I stole anything anyway. I already told you it wasn't me. "
Blondie looked at Baldy for a moment. They always had suspicions that whatever happened in New York was Dallas' fault. It wasn't even exciting anymore. Usually they just took him in without any reason. They thought they'd find one. 9 times out of 10 they were right. But this time...
Blondie sighed and shook his head. "We can't get him on this. We've got nothing on him."
Baldy slammed his hands on the table and stood, outraged. "What do you mean we've got nothing on him?"
Blondie shrugged apologetically. "He's a juvenile delinquent. As a lot of those kids in the store. He wasn't on surveillance and we searched him at the scene. Nothing."
Dally looked at them, unimpressed. "Done?'
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
Dallas sped on a side street, way over the speed limit, in his rusted grey, used 2004 Acura. In his left hand, his fingers held a cigarette. He took one last, good inhale of it and threw the butt out the window. His hands taped the steering wheel rapidly to the beat of Queens of the Stone Age, "Sick Sick Sick," as he leaned forward. Feeling the rush of the air from the windows, to the piercing loud riffs of guitars in his ears.
Young, dumb, don't see a problem
Bloodshot, stare like a hoodlum
Simple as this; I'm in love with the risk
I know what I've done,
But tell me what did I miss?
So please don't save something
Waste not, save nothing
Lose the halo, don't need to resist
A lick of the lips and a grip on your hips
He looked in his rearview mirror and saw someone following him. It was a real nice car. Real nice. That could mean only one thing.
"So...you want to play huh, Soc?" His narrow eyes zeroed in on the red, sparkling new Mitsubishi in the rear view mirror. He immediately put his foot on the gas and started speeding, daring the other car to match his speed. He abruptly turned a corner, skidding on his wheels, but easily regaining control of the car. The red car following was able to keep up for several blocks.
Dallas grinned before reaching an intersection and slamming on the breaks. The car skidded to the side. Like some action movie. But stopped without hassle. The red car hit the breaks after the fact and nearly ran into the lamp post. But he was able to stop without causing an accident. Meanwhile, Dallas reached in his glove compartment and put something heavy and metal in his jacket, before jumping out the car, slamming the door.
The Soc came out the car, short dirty blond hair, nice clothes and all. When the Soc saw it was Dallas coming out of the car, there was a little hesitation in his eyes. But somehow the Soc manage to keep his cool. He probably wasn't expecting it to be Dallas.
"You're a pretty fast driver. Was I supposed to be impressed by that?"
Dallas leaned back against his car, his face stripped of anything that could be interpreted as emotion. His voice was low and calm. "Hm. Depends. Were you, fucker?"
The Soc took out a switchblade. "Call me that again and you and the rest of you sorry Greasers are gonna get more than cut." His voice was shaking just a little bit. Not noticeable if you didn't listen carefully.
Dallas only looked down at the blade, then up at the Soc. Almost with boredom.
"Yeah," He said with a uninterested sigh. "Sure. Fucker."
The Soc advanced towards him and just before he was close enough to jump Dallas, Dallas pulled out a gun and pointed it at the Soc's forehead. The Soc stopped in his tracks, fear in his eyes. Dallas took the safety off the gun with a resounding click.
"Three seconds to run." Dallas said. "One..."
The soc swallowed hard.
"Two."
The soc buckled immediately and ran to the car. He jumped in and Dallas watched him speed off as he lowered the gun, not taking his eye off of him until he was down the road. Only then, did he crack a bit of a grin.
"Three." He pointed the barrel towards the air and pulled the trigger. Nothing went off because it was unloaded. He got back in his car, as if nothing happened, and headed for the Curtis house, hoping if any of the guys were up for a movie tonight.
.Dallas Earl Winston
|Low Class|
|Low Class|
Canon: The Outsiders
Custom Title: Hardened beyond caring
PHYSICAL
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: When you look at Dallas, you know three things. He's tough, he's cold, and he's mean. He has mostly lengthy dark hair. He's master at hiding his emotions (if he harbors any at all) and its hard to read him most, if not all of the time. He's simply a rock. His stature is tall, strong, fit, and conditioned for physical fighting.
Height: 6' 2"
Body: Fit
Other distinguishing features: Tattoo, a Celtic design on his back.
Wardrobe:His wardrobe mostly consists of jeans, graphic t-shirts, jackets and the occasional hoodie, all in dark colors. He often wears white wife beaters. He usually goes for anything cheap that he can just throw on.[/ul]
Play By: Josh Hartnett
PERSONALITY
General personality: Dally is exactly the way he looks. Very tough, very cold. Living out on the streets, being in jail, has made him numb to a lot of things. In other words, he holds hatred to "the whole world." The people that matter most do not care whether he's alive or dead and he's been exposed to things simply unimaginable at a young age. This has made him view the world as his playground, his playground without rules. He sees no reason to become attached, or invested in other people because the world has shown him that it doesn't pay. It only pays to fend for yourself. Through his eyes, the world is only full of people who want to kill each other and either they act out on that impulse or they don't. Either way, there is no point in caring. His idea of life is to do as much damage as possible and have as much fun as you can doing it. Besides...everyone else is, whether they admit it or not.
Because of this, he's blunt, unapologetic, and tougher than most. He's wild, and some may argue...just a bit crazy. He takes pride in his notorious reputation and police record, and everyone knows you just don't mess with Dallas. You don't tell him what to do. You don't argue. He holds no hesitation in hurting someone. No filter. Nothing. It'll be just you and Dallas' fist.
Yet somewhere in Dallas there's a soft spot, it's just extremely hard to get to. He is extremely loyal to the Greasers, especially Johnny Cade. He likes to have fun, being going to parties, causing ruckus when he can, or going to movies. And the only thing he will do honestly is racing horses as a jockey. He will also put himself and his life on the line when it comes right down to it.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: "Helping people? Doesn't do any good." "I'll kill you." "Fucker."
Likes:
- Smoking
- Drinking
- Partying
- Girls
- Doing anything illegal (stealing especially)
- Movies
- Horse racing
- Getting under people's skin
- Fights
- Driving fast
- Greasers, especially Johnny Cade
- Spontaneity
- Honesty
- Winning
- His police record
- Swearing
Dislikes:
- Socs
- Cops
- Getting caught
- Prison
- His "family"
- Seeing someone he cares about get hurt (as much as he tries not to admit it)
- Being told what to do
- Being threatened
- the world in general (society)
- Feeling helpless
- Stupidity (when it comes to self preservation)
Strengths:
- Fighting/Physical strength
- Hiding his emotions
- Intelligent when it comes to fending for himself/independent
- Riding/betting horses
Weaknesses:
- Hiding his emotions
- Unfiltered tendency to go with impulse
- Addiction to trouble/causing trouble
- The fact that one day he's going to seriously...snap. And everyone knows it.
BACKGROUND
Family: Michelle Winston & John Williams (separated and very loosely called "family")
Education: High school drop out
Occupation: Assistant trainer and jockey at Belmont Park
Worst past experience: Being told at an early age that he wasn't even supposed to exist. Going to jail.
Best past experience: Committing arson back when he was on his 3 year criminal streak...and getting away with it.
Image: No one messes with Dally, simple as that. People tend to be afraid of him and no one dares talks down about him to his face, "not even Darry." He's cold, tough, and just on the tip of going off the deep end. His criminal reputation proceeds him. His low, deep, almost throaty voice is empty, even, unwavering. People are convinced that nothing can get to Dally. Nothing. He is the master of being fearless, even if he pretends to be.
History:
(Note. For this site, since Windrixville is a fictional place, for The Outsiders canon, Windrixville will be stationed as a neighborhood in NYC instead of Oklahoma, with an east/west side. I'm also giving myself permission to godmod people in this history sample lol...its just history, not an Rp Sample, so I won't change the colors.
Also, since i'm the first in this canon, I'll explain the Soc/Greaser rivalry here, but anyone who comes after me does not need to do that.)
One of the officers stood against the wall. He was nearly bald and had a look on his face. A look of pity. Or anger. A condensing look most likely. Whatever it was, Dally didn't like it. He sat back in his chair, at the table, with face of stone. Arms crossed over his chest.
"This guy thinks he's real cool, doesn't he? A real smart ass." Baldy said.
Dally gave a hint of a smirk. "Well, you know...I don't react well to cops."
Baldy approached the table, put both hands on it, leaned on it. An attempt to be threatening. "Get that grin off your face. What, you think this is a game?"
Dally kept eye contact with him. He didn't flinch. His voice deep and dark he said, "Hm. I kinda think its real goddamn funny."
The other officer, blonde hair, a real gallant looking fella, approached shuffling through papers. "...let's just get this shit over with." He pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards. Baldy reluctantly pulled up a chair as well.
"State your full name." Blondie commanded.
Dally sighed with a bit of boredom. "Dallas Earl Winston."
"Where do you stay?" Looks like Blondie would take charge of this little interview.
"Around."
"You don't have a permanent residence?"
Dally sighed again, sat up in his chair and leaned forward, looking at him. "Didn't I say 'around'?"
Baldy decided to jump in. "Look, if this is you avoiding our questions--"
"East side of Windrixville. That's where my folks stay." He told them, sitting back in his chair.
"Do your folks know you're here?" Blondie asked.
Dally looked at the both of them for a moment, as if they asked the dumbest question in the world. To Dally, they did. "They don't give a shit where I am." He said, his expression unreadable and emotionless. His parents partied through most of their teen years and adult life and partied themselves into having a child they didn't want. His dad's only role in Dally's life was paying child support. His mom used it for her drug addiction. Dally stayed on the streets for most of his childhood and teen years. His dad told him he was a mistake.
"Yeah, no kidding." Baldy mumbled.
"You work?" Blondie asked, moving on.
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Got a job up at Belmont Park as an assistant trainer and a jockey." Dally explained. Since he was on probation around the time he was 14, he was forced to volunteer. At Belmont Park, he took care of the horses, prepared and groomed them. He liked it and the workers gave him a job. He met one of his good friends, Buck Merill there. They gambled on the races and make a good amount of money. Buck betted on the rigged games. Dallas didn't. "That was before I got put in."
Blondie shuffled through the papers. "How many times where you arrested?"
"Ain't that all in my records, big man?" Dally asked coolly. "Impressed, ain't ya?"
"Yes," He looked up. "But I just want to see if you can be honest for once in your life."
"Maybe once." He said with a smirk.
"Answer the question." Baldy demanded.
"Fuck," Dallas swore without any intensity and sat back in his chair. "Hell if I know. You guys always seem to get me for somethin, right?" His dark eyes snapped towards Baldy. "Better watch your fuckin tone with me, man."
Baldy started to stand but Blondie quickly continued his questioning. "Says here more than 10. Actually, your first arrest was at the age of ten."
For the first time, a smile spread across Dally's face. A smile of pride. "That's right."
"And you were in prison for about a year. Just recently got out on good behavior. Involved with a gang shooting, is that right?"
Dallas rudely turned his head and spit on the ground. "Yeah." He said, no remorse in his tone whatsoever. Got involved in a bad situation at the wrong time. At 16 he went on a wild rampage for three years in New York's toughest streets, getting mixed up in all kinds of mess. One of them being rival gangs. Two hoodlums he was staying with at the time decided to rush a member of a rival gang. Attempted shoot and run. Unfortunately they got caught. Dallas had nothing to do with the murder but he was prepared to kill anyone who stood in their way. They found the gun on his person and he was found guilty with the rest of them.
"And let me guess, you weren't the one that pulled the trigger." Baldy said incredulously.
Dally gave a mischievous grin. "Not that time."
"So you're free now. Why mess it up by stealing? Says you..." Blondie looked at the papers again. "Says you were with a group at the time?"
"Yeah." They were the Greasers. Bunch of guys who lived on the east side. The name stuck because they were the ones on the poor side of town. The side of town where the guys wear their hair long, wear messy clothes, and drive run down cars. The side of town where the only businesses that could be sustained were gas stations, and dying used car establishments where many people worked. Lots of dirty, greasy clothes in that part of town. Kinda why the name 'Greasers' stuck.
Dally met the gang of Greasers not long after he was put on probation. He became good friends with them. They were a knot in Dally's philosophy for the world. After telling himself he wouldn't do shit for anyone else, he kept to that rule. But he caught himself being stupid many times when it came to the Greasers. One time he took the blame for Two-bit Mathews breaking some windows. That explained one out of the many arrests on his record. And Johnny Cade. Dally thought that, maybe, he'd do anything for that kid.
"Says that you were attacked not long before the incident?"
"That's what you call that?" Dally retorted. "That wasn't an attack. It was a sorry ass attempt at trying to be hard. Damn Socs."
Socs. Short for 'socials.' Those were the people that lived on the other side of Windrixville. The west side. The middle class side. As far as Dally was concerned, the rich side. The side that drove sports cars, worked at country clubs, had everything handed to them. Needless to say, the Socs and the Greasers didn't get along. The rivalry was long standing.
Dally was getting bored. "Listen, you guys gonna put me back in jail or what? I'd rather be there than sit here with you and play 21 questions." He rolled his eyes. "Shit...you ain't got proof I stole anything anyway. I already told you it wasn't me. "
Blondie looked at Baldy for a moment. They always had suspicions that whatever happened in New York was Dallas' fault. It wasn't even exciting anymore. Usually they just took him in without any reason. They thought they'd find one. 9 times out of 10 they were right. But this time...
Blondie sighed and shook his head. "We can't get him on this. We've got nothing on him."
Baldy slammed his hands on the table and stood, outraged. "What do you mean we've got nothing on him?"
Blondie shrugged apologetically. "He's a juvenile delinquent. As a lot of those kids in the store. He wasn't on surveillance and we searched him at the scene. Nothing."
Dally looked at them, unimpressed. "Done?'
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
Dallas sped on a side street, way over the speed limit, in his rusted grey, used 2004 Acura. In his left hand, his fingers held a cigarette. He took one last, good inhale of it and threw the butt out the window. His hands taped the steering wheel rapidly to the beat of Queens of the Stone Age, "Sick Sick Sick," as he leaned forward. Feeling the rush of the air from the windows, to the piercing loud riffs of guitars in his ears.
Young, dumb, don't see a problem
Bloodshot, stare like a hoodlum
Simple as this; I'm in love with the risk
I know what I've done,
But tell me what did I miss?
So please don't save something
Waste not, save nothing
Lose the halo, don't need to resist
A lick of the lips and a grip on your hips
He looked in his rearview mirror and saw someone following him. It was a real nice car. Real nice. That could mean only one thing.
"So...you want to play huh, Soc?" His narrow eyes zeroed in on the red, sparkling new Mitsubishi in the rear view mirror. He immediately put his foot on the gas and started speeding, daring the other car to match his speed. He abruptly turned a corner, skidding on his wheels, but easily regaining control of the car. The red car following was able to keep up for several blocks.
Dallas grinned before reaching an intersection and slamming on the breaks. The car skidded to the side. Like some action movie. But stopped without hassle. The red car hit the breaks after the fact and nearly ran into the lamp post. But he was able to stop without causing an accident. Meanwhile, Dallas reached in his glove compartment and put something heavy and metal in his jacket, before jumping out the car, slamming the door.
The Soc came out the car, short dirty blond hair, nice clothes and all. When the Soc saw it was Dallas coming out of the car, there was a little hesitation in his eyes. But somehow the Soc manage to keep his cool. He probably wasn't expecting it to be Dallas.
"You're a pretty fast driver. Was I supposed to be impressed by that?"
Dallas leaned back against his car, his face stripped of anything that could be interpreted as emotion. His voice was low and calm. "Hm. Depends. Were you, fucker?"
The Soc took out a switchblade. "Call me that again and you and the rest of you sorry Greasers are gonna get more than cut." His voice was shaking just a little bit. Not noticeable if you didn't listen carefully.
Dallas only looked down at the blade, then up at the Soc. Almost with boredom.
"Yeah," He said with a uninterested sigh. "Sure. Fucker."
The Soc advanced towards him and just before he was close enough to jump Dallas, Dallas pulled out a gun and pointed it at the Soc's forehead. The Soc stopped in his tracks, fear in his eyes. Dallas took the safety off the gun with a resounding click.
"Three seconds to run." Dallas said. "One..."
The soc swallowed hard.
"Two."
The soc buckled immediately and ran to the car. He jumped in and Dallas watched him speed off as he lowered the gun, not taking his eye off of him until he was down the road. Only then, did he crack a bit of a grin.
"Three." He pointed the barrel towards the air and pulled the trigger. Nothing went off because it was unloaded. He got back in his car, as if nothing happened, and headed for the Curtis house, hoping if any of the guys were up for a movie tonight.
