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Description
Katrina walked the darkened streets alone, her hands in her pockets are her mind raced furiously. In the distance she could hear gun shots, and everytime the bang would sound, she would begin to shake. By the time she got to her house, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind. The brunette stuffed earplugs in as fast as her unsteady hands could manage, but though the sound was gone her mind played tircks on her. The sound of her sister crying, begining tortured, sitting alone in a deep, dark, dank room alone haunted Katrina as she hugged her knees close to her chest in Phiona's empty room.
Her mind was blank as her eyes widened to any sound of movement that disrupted her eerie silence. She nearly had a heart attack as she heard the front door open and foot steps track down the hall to Katrina's room.
"Tri?" A male voice called as someone pushed the door to Phiona's room open. Katrina looked up from her fetal position to see a pair of deep blue near black jeans with holes in the knees that were patched up poorly.
"B-bo?" The brunette's voice nearly cracked and Urhobo was at her side faster than her mind could really notice at the moment.
"Shit, Tri, are you okay?" He paused, putting his hand down onto her knee. "I came by earlier, but you weren't here. I thought you went out to get Phiona, but.."
Katrina sniffled, still frozen. "She's gone, Bo.."
"Gone?" Urhobo frowned, a bit skeptic. "Maybe she got lost, or is at a friend's house, Tri.."
"Bo, she's being held hostage by this crazy woman down the street.. Thistle or something like that.. She gave me her hat too.." Katrina let her head fall into her arms as she sighed.
Urhobo adjusted his turtleneck, trying to find the words for something, but then giving up on it. "Tri, we'll figure it out.. We'll think of something.."
Katrina's head was in her arms, so she didn't see Bo's frown that was growing on his face as he saw the hat. She didn't see his eyes glare at the door or as his lip turned up into snar, wanting to rip apart the hat to shreds. "We'll get that Thistle, character.."

Thistle tossed her goggles to the floor, slammed her locked-up gun onto the case beside her. She should have expected it from her old school 1956 Colt Python. It was her favorite, but springs inside were getting rusty and old. She just couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, she knew she'd never find another working one, and she'd gotten so much shit done with it.
It was a very significant 6 inch Colt Python '55 to her.
She growled, snatching the nearest pistol on the case and swining back around to the target that laid strung up 30 yards away from her. It was a piece of roadkill that Vincent had brought her on the way back from errands one night, and it please Thistle. She hated shooting stupid human cut outs, and why not shoot something that's alrady dead?
It's not like their going to mind, she thought angrily.
Thistle shot at the main areas of the deer corpse, some of the bullets tearing through the flank and some bouncing off the hooves.
When the cartrage was empty she slammed the gun down again. She clenched her fists and glared over the edge of her balcony. She spat on the ground.
Thistle looked down onto the street and out into the darkness. She wanted to yell something, something that would scream to Vincent that she hated him even if he was right. That stupid man.
And to Roland, she didn't even want to think of that blundering idiot. He offered nothing to her but seemingly extra protection and mybe comedic relief. The only plus she could see at the moment was that now Vincent could stay back with her instead of him going out and risking being seen.
And that girl, what could she do with her? There was no way she could prove she wasn't affliated.
"Screw you, Vincent, this time my plans gonna work." She gripped the edge of the balcony, breathing in the refreshing night air, mingling with black gunpowder.

"Okay, so try it this time running at me, then hopping off the wall, and then shooting at my feet. I'll be in the middle." Vincent ordered Roland in the training room, which was on the third story of the house just across the hall from the kitchen and dining area. It was as padded as they could have gotten it, but there was still always the chance that bullets would fly through the wall, so after a close mishap, Vincent had personally requested that everyone change to blanks while practicing with Roland. Vincent and Thistle were free on the other hand to use live rounds for combat practice late into the morning.
Roland was set on his heels, both hands on his pistol and set for the word to go. Vincent was infront of him nearly fifteen feet and had a gun set with blanks as well, and blinked.
"Okay, now!" Vincent yelled, taking a good leap forward towards Roland, his pistol in hand ready to pistol whip is unfortunate victim.
Roland ran forward against Vincent, leaning to his right at the last moment when Vincent was about to bright the gun down on his head and slid to the ground on his knee and foot. Roland took one of his hands off his gun to push himself up off the floor jump back. Vincent had spun around and was now gaining ground closer to him. Roland paniced, he froze for a moment before throwing his back onto the wall with all of his force and bringing his legs up to his chest, lashing out at Vincent when he was close.
Vincent was thrown onto his back and skidded to a halt down at Roland's feet two yards away. Roland fell down onto his bum, and was late in pulling his gun back up to attack Vincent. He knew because Vincent had already leaned over to his side and began shooting at Roland.
The younger brother dropped his gun in frustration and grabbed for his hair in anger. "I was so close! Gah! I even got you on the ground first this time!" He knocked his head against the padded wall. "Dammit, Vincent!"
Vincent only smiled and rolled onto his feet, putting the gun into his side holster. "Calm down little bro, you almost had me. If you went stiffer after you pushed me down you wouldn't have it the ground so hard." He held his hand out to Roland to help him up. "It was pretty close I admit. You threw me off guard, keep up what you got going on, kay?"
Roland sighed and scratched behind his neck. "Yeah, yeah.. So, uh.. Is Thistle still mad at me?"
Vincent pulled his blazer and vest off, leaving just a button up shirt and his slaks on. "She was mad at you when you put her hat back on the wrong head stand. And now she blames you for brining that girl back. I don't think it's gonna be all peaches and cream by tomorrow, kid."
Roland nodded slightly, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah.. You're right.. Y'know, I'm gonna head to bed. I can only take so much of Thistle in a day, am I right?" He tried to make a laugh, and get one out of Vincent, but to no avail.
"You don't joke about the Boss like that, Roland. You're gonna end up learning the hard way, but you need her just as much as she needs you. So don't say anything else stupid and things might get better." Vincent shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, shut your mouth, and maybe one day she'll treat you as near equals."
"But, you're close with her already.. How'd you do it?" Roland grabbed his jacket from the corner of the room and looked back to Vincent to see him nearly out the door.
Vincent paused, thinking for a moment and then looking to the floor. "There are just things I can't explain to you that were right when I saw them." He sighed. "Look, eh, same time tomorrow night? Work on your aim, you shoot like a pansy." He joked, slipping out of the room without looking back.
Roland cracked his knuckles, his hand on the door knob and thinking about Thistle and Vincent. He didnt know what happened between the two but it was like they could read each others mind. The younger brother turned the corner and headed for his ajoined room with Vincent, but didn't expect him to be there. Vincent liked to take "night walks" or what Roland thought were his nightly rounds of keeping an eye on the grounds. Roland didn't ask him about it because he knew he wouldn't get a real answer. Vincent may be perfect but he sure wasn't God.

Vincent dressed in his dark over coat, the one made of leather that had pockets on the inside that hid his two dueling pistols. He had a dark newsboys hat pulled down over his brow and his unpolished shitkickers on, along with his dark fingerless gloves, he was good.
He shoved his hands down into his pockets, the air warm enough to have him not even need his jacket, but he wore it anyway. He took a deep breath in, and released it out, the first time he was about to deleberatly disobey Thistle to her face since he was stuck in Roland's shoes. It was a dangerous card he was going to play, but Thistle just couldn't be right. She was missing something, and he was going to find out what.
He slipped out of the green room where he hid his spare night run clothes, and into the hallway. The older brother made his way down the first flight of stairs against the edge so that they wouldn't squeak, and nearly made it down the second flight to if Thistle wasn't at the base already waiting for him.
Her arms were folded and her eyes shut behind her dark sunglasses.
"Roland told me that you were going out for your rounds." She spoke after a moment, looking over at him and raising an eyebrow. "Which would have been normal, if I had you doing night rounds normally."
She took a breath, while Vincent was barely breathing, trying to keep his composure.
"Vincent, I know you know this, but this house is a fortress. Two ways through the gate, one into the house. Two staircases to the second floor, and two up to the third. To get the the roof there is only one way, and that way is angled so that it is as far away from the gun safe as possible. I planned this house out so perfectly as to be guarded until the very last man. You and I could hold this place down. Hell, even you and Roland could!" She furrowed her eyebrows.
"I know that." Vincent nodded slightly.
"Then why do you believe that I'm not onto what you're doing, you paranoid sonofabitch?" She spoke under her breath, a hand on her hip, almost in a joking matter.
"What do you think I'm doing then?" He asked quietly.
"You are going to go and stake out her house, and watch her every move." Her growled, moving over to the side of the railway so that she could see down into the parlor below her. "You need to stop being an open book, Vincent. I'm not stupid.."
"I didn't say you were." Vincent bowed slightly. "But I am here to protect you with my life, and that's what I'm going to do."
Thistle huffed, putting her hand onto Vincent's shoulder and giving him a good sized shove. "Get your ass outta here before I beat it." She scoffed, already tromping her way back up the stairs.
"See you in the morning, Boss." Vincent called quietly back to her, jogging down the second flight of stairs to the parlor, and out the huge doors onto the outside grounds.
Thistle watched him as he snuck out of the front gate and down the main road. She didn't think she would regret letting him out like that, Vincent had ammo, his skills and knowledge.
She'd soon regret it though. Very soon.

Description
Katrina walked the darkened streets alone, her hands in her pockets are her mind raced furiously. In the distance she could hear gun shots, and everytime the bang would sound, she would begin to shake. By the time she got to her house, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind. The brunette stuffed earplugs in as fast as her unsteady hands could manage, but though the sound was gone her mind played tircks on her. The sound of her sister crying, begining tortured, sitting alone in a deep, dark, dank room alone haunted Katrina as she hugged her knees close to her chest in Phiona's empty room.
Her mind was blank as her eyes widened to any sound of movement that disrupted her eerie silence. She nearly had a heart attack as she heard the front door open and foot steps track down the hall to Katrina's room.
"Tri?" A male voice called as someone pushed the door to Phiona's room open. Katrina looked up from her fetal position to see a pair of deep blue near black jeans with holes in the knees that were patched up poorly.
"B-bo?" The brunette's voice nearly cracked and Urhobo was at her side faster than her mind could really notice at the moment.
"Shit, Tri, are you okay?" He paused, putting his hand down onto her knee. "I came by earlier, but you weren't here. I thought you went out to get Phiona, but.."
Katrina sniffled, still frozen. "She's gone, Bo.."
"Gone?" Urhobo frowned, a bit skeptic. "Maybe she got lost, or is at a friend's house, Tri.."
"Bo, she's being held hostage by this crazy woman down the street.. Thistle or something like that.. She gave me her hat too.." Katrina let her head fall into her arms as she sighed.
Urhobo adjusted his turtleneck, trying to find the words for something, but then giving up on it. "Tri, we'll figure it out.. We'll think of something.."
Katrina's head was in her arms, so she didn't see Bo's frown that was growing on his face as he saw the hat. She didn't see his eyes glare at the door or as his lip turned up into snar, wanting to rip apart the hat to shreds. "We'll get that Thistle, character.."

Thistle tossed her goggles to the floor, slammed her locked-up gun onto the case beside her. She should have expected it from her old school 1956 Colt Python. It was her favorite, but springs inside were getting rusty and old. She just couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, she knew she'd never find another working one, and she'd gotten so much shit done with it.
It was a very significant 6 inch Colt Python '55 to her.
She growled, snatching the nearest pistol on the case and swining back around to the target that laid strung up 30 yards away from her. It was a piece of roadkill that Vincent had brought her on the way back from errands one night, and it please Thistle. She hated shooting stupid human cut outs, and why not shoot something that's alrady dead?
It's not like their going to mind, she thought angrily.
Thistle shot at the main areas of the deer corpse, some of the bullets tearing through the flank and some bouncing off the hooves.
When the cartrage was empty she slammed the gun down again. She clenched her fists and glared over the edge of her balcony. She spat on the ground.
Thistle looked down onto the street and out into the darkness. She wanted to yell something, something that would scream to Vincent that she hated him even if he was right. That stupid man.
And to Roland, she didn't even want to think of that blundering idiot. He offered nothing to her but seemingly extra protection and mybe comedic relief. The only plus she could see at the moment was that now Vincent could stay back with her instead of him going out and risking being seen.
And that girl, what could she do with her? There was no way she could prove she wasn't affliated.
"Screw you, Vincent, this time my plans gonna work." She gripped the edge of the balcony, breathing in the refreshing night air, mingling with black gunpowder.

"Okay, so try it this time running at me, then hopping off the wall, and then shooting at my feet. I'll be in the middle." Vincent ordered Roland in the training room, which was on the third story of the house just across the hall from the kitchen and dining area. It was as padded as they could have gotten it, but there was still always the chance that bullets would fly through the wall, so after a close mishap, Vincent had personally requested that everyone change to blanks while practicing with Roland. Vincent and Thistle were free on the other hand to use live rounds for combat practice late into the morning.
Roland was set on his heels, both hands on his pistol and set for the word to go. Vincent was infront of him nearly fifteen feet and had a gun set with blanks as well, and blinked.
"Okay, now!" Vincent yelled, taking a good leap forward towards Roland, his pistol in hand ready to pistol whip is unfortunate victim.
Roland ran forward against Vincent, leaning to his right at the last moment when Vincent was about to bright the gun down on his head and slid to the ground on his knee and foot. Roland took one of his hands off his gun to push himself up off the floor jump back. Vincent had spun around and was now gaining ground closer to him. Roland paniced, he froze for a moment before throwing his back onto the wall with all of his force and bringing his legs up to his chest, lashing out at Vincent when he was close.
Vincent was thrown onto his back and skidded to a halt down at Roland's feet two yards away. Roland fell down onto his bum, and was late in pulling his gun back up to attack Vincent. He knew because Vincent had already leaned over to his side and began shooting at Roland.
The younger brother dropped his gun in frustration and grabbed for his hair in anger. "I was so close! Gah! I even got you on the ground first this time!" He knocked his head against the padded wall. "Dammit, Vincent!"
Vincent only smiled and rolled onto his feet, putting the gun into his side holster. "Calm down little bro, you almost had me. If you went stiffer after you pushed me down you wouldn't have it the ground so hard." He held his hand out to Roland to help him up. "It was pretty close I admit. You threw me off guard, keep up what you got going on, kay?"
Roland sighed and scratched behind his neck. "Yeah, yeah.. So, uh.. Is Thistle still mad at me?"
Vincent pulled his blazer and vest off, leaving just a button up shirt and his slaks on. "She was mad at you when you put her hat back on the wrong head stand. And now she blames you for brining that girl back. I don't think it's gonna be all peaches and cream by tomorrow, kid."
Roland nodded slightly, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah.. You're right.. Y'know, I'm gonna head to bed. I can only take so much of Thistle in a day, am I right?" He tried to make a laugh, and get one out of Vincent, but to no avail.
"You don't joke about the Boss like that, Roland. You're gonna end up learning the hard way, but you need her just as much as she needs you. So don't say anything else stupid and things might get better." Vincent shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, shut your mouth, and maybe one day she'll treat you as near equals."
"But, you're close with her already.. How'd you do it?" Roland grabbed his jacket from the corner of the room and looked back to Vincent to see him nearly out the door.
Vincent paused, thinking for a moment and then looking to the floor. "There are just things I can't explain to you that were right when I saw them." He sighed. "Look, eh, same time tomorrow night? Work on your aim, you shoot like a pansy." He joked, slipping out of the room without looking back.
Roland cracked his knuckles, his hand on the door knob and thinking about Thistle and Vincent. He didnt know what happened between the two but it was like they could read each others mind. The younger brother turned the corner and headed for his ajoined room with Vincent, but didn't expect him to be there. Vincent liked to take "night walks" or what Roland thought were his nightly rounds of keeping an eye on the grounds. Roland didn't ask him about it because he knew he wouldn't get a real answer. Vincent may be perfect but he sure wasn't God.

Vincent dressed in his dark over coat, the one made of leather that had pockets on the inside that hid his two dueling pistols. He had a dark newsboys hat pulled down over his brow and his unpolished shitkickers on, along with his dark fingerless gloves, he was good.
He shoved his hands down into his pockets, the air warm enough to have him not even need his jacket, but he wore it anyway. He took a deep breath in, and released it out, the first time he was about to deleberatly disobey Thistle to her face since he was stuck in Roland's shoes. It was a dangerous card he was going to play, but Thistle just couldn't be right. She was missing something, and he was going to find out what.
He slipped out of the green room where he hid his spare night run clothes, and into the hallway. The older brother made his way down the first flight of stairs against the edge so that they wouldn't squeak, and nearly made it down the second flight to if Thistle wasn't at the base already waiting for him.
Her arms were folded and her eyes shut behind her dark sunglasses.
"Roland told me that you were going out for your rounds." She spoke after a moment, looking over at him and raising an eyebrow. "Which would have been normal, if I had you doing night rounds normally."
She took a breath, while Vincent was barely breathing, trying to keep his composure.
"Vincent, I know you know this, but this house is a fortress. Two ways through the gate, one into the house. Two staircases to the second floor, and two up to the third. To get the the roof there is only one way, and that way is angled so that it is as far away from the gun safe as possible. I planned this house out so perfectly as to be guarded until the very last man. You and I could hold this place down. Hell, even you and Roland could!" She furrowed her eyebrows.
"I know that." Vincent nodded slightly.
"Then why do you believe that I'm not onto what you're doing, you paranoid sonofabitch?" She spoke under her breath, a hand on her hip, almost in a joking matter.
"What do you think I'm doing then?" He asked quietly.
"You are going to go and stake out her house, and watch her every move." Her growled, moving over to the side of the railway so that she could see down into the parlor below her. "You need to stop being an open book, Vincent. I'm not stupid.."
"I didn't say you were." Vincent bowed slightly. "But I am here to protect you with my life, and that's what I'm going to do."
Thistle huffed, putting her hand onto Vincent's shoulder and giving him a good sized shove. "Get your ass outta here before I beat it." She scoffed, already tromping her way back up the stairs.
"See you in the morning, Boss." Vincent called quietly back to her, jogging down the second flight of stairs to the parlor, and out the huge doors onto the outside grounds.
Thistle watched him as he snuck out of the front gate and down the main road. She didn't think she would regret letting him out like that, Vincent had ammo, his skills and knowledge.
She'd soon regret it though. Very soon.