2021-12-22 - Gotta Have It

Ahhh, the holiday season. Ahhh, the desperate attempts to get those last minute presents before they all sell out. The store is filled with cranky shoppers, all rushing to and fro, grabbing wrapping paper, toys, clothes, last minute groceries...it's a madhouse. And the tinned carols through the speakers aren't making things any more cheerful, to be honest. The tempo on them is just a little too fast; they sound like chipmunks singing. Some shoppers complain, but the overworked retail workers just shake their heads and say, "I'll ask my manager," before hurrying off to the next emergency.

Isi is as jumpy as a rabbit in a field - all the people and bustle is just NOT her jam. Typically she wouldn't even be OUT at this time of year, but... well. "I don't even know what he would like..." she talks to herself (cementing her place as one more crazy person here.) Someone passes by her and bumps her elbow and thus receives a firm, "Fuck you!" as a seasons greeting. The greeting card she had picked up gets tossed back into the pile and she wanders back down the aisle as she looks at other cards.

"There are children here," a woman snaps back at Isi, her eyes wide and scandalized. "Watch your mouth!" And it doesn't stop another two people from bumping into poor Isi as they take up more than half the aisle, chatting to one another and blocking the way. Meanwhile, another figure is making its way towards the electronics counter; a guy in his late thirties or early forties, harried looking and dressed in a long coat. He pushes past the people in line at the counter, and tells the frazzled girl, "I called about picking up a PS5. Where is it?"

The girl stares blankly at him. "Um...well, you can check the shelves; they're over there."

"Don't bother, asshole," one of the people who was pushed out of the way says. "They're sold out. Now get the fuck out of the way."

The guy in the coat shakes his head. "No. No. I called about it. I want my PS5."

"Then each your children to mind their own fucking business." Isi replies to the woman, not at all trying to be polite. It's Christmas time and this store is way too damn busy. There are a few things in Isi's arms and she gives up on the whole picking-a-proper-card and heads towards the back and the video game section. Alexander said something about video games right?

She sweeps her hair over her shoulder and plays with the edge of her hair as it hangs over her shoulder. She pauses to watch the confrontation - an asshole recognizes a fellow asshole, and someone deserving of being of being heckled if given the chance.

The girl behind the counter is giving the man in the coat a you're gonna be trouble sort of look, and she reaches for the internal line while putting on a plastic smile. "Let me just call my manager and we'll see if we can check in the back. In the meantime, sir, please let me help these other people."

The man in the coat shakes his head, a stubborn, bullish motion. "No. Give me a PS5! You fuckers are laughing at me. Go here, go there, wait here. Oh sorry, we're all sold out. That's bullshit. I'm a tax-paying American citizen and I want my goddamn PS5!"

One of the other people stopping to watch says to Isi, bewildered, "What's paying your taxes got to do with whether the games are sold out or not?"

"YOU SHUT UP," the man suddenly turns and screams. His hand reaches under his coat and brings out...a shotgun. Which is pointed directly at the woman who spoke. A shame Isi's standing right next to her. "YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! I KNOW MY RIGHTS!"

Isi does NOT pee her pants! That's a good success in this situation.

She does however, scream, and duck - right into the woman that the gun is now pointed at. It's fifty fifty if the woman goes down with her or there is just mass chaos of people screaming and running from said shotgun that is abruptly OUT IN PUBLIC GOD DAMN IT THIS IS EASTERN WASHINGTON NOT WESTERN WASHINGTON?

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" That's part of the screaming.

There is a chorus of screams coming up from people as they realize that the man isn't shaking a fist or something, but actually waving around a gun. Isi's side duck puts her square into the target's path, and the woman squeals and grabs at her, trying to put Isi between herself and the gun. Instead, both women go down in a painful heap of limbs.

And yet, it's still enough for the guy to hear Isi's scream over the rest of the chaos. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" The guy's face has gone purple with rage. "This store is wrong. You are fucking wrong. This whole goddamned rotten world is what's wrong with me! ALL I FUCKING WANT IS A PS5! I brought the money!" He swings around to point the gun at the frozen girl behind the counter. "Just...just let me pay for it. And I'll go."

Her mouth works. "But we don't have any! They're all sold out!"

"NO! I know you have some! Stop fucking around!"

Isi is going to have a nice bruise where thw oman's elbow smashes into her ribcage. It's enough to knock her breath out and leave her curled on the floor even as the other woman starts to scramble away. Isi's left there for a good few seconds trying to get her breath. It's only then that she realizes that there's a space opening up around her now. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," and much more dirty words come from Isi's counter. Then, like a nice responsible person, she's just going to crawl behind the counter as the safest place to be right now as long as she keeps her head down.

"Mister, look! We don't have any! If we had one, I'd give you one! Merry Christmas! But we don't! I can't make a PS5 exist where it doesn't!" The woman flails her hands. "Please, just go away! I can't help you!"

The man breathes hard and fast, the gun trembling in his hands. "I know you're lying," he says, almost conversationally. "I know you are, and I can prove it. Because if you don't give me what I want, I'm going to," he pauses, moves with surprising speed to lunge over the counter and grab the back of Isi's shirt and yank her upwards with one hand, and with the other, he shoves the shotgun at her ribs, "I'm gonna blow this woman in half. And that's gonna be your fault."

Isi feels safe for a hot minute there, curled behind the counter as the nice coward that she is. But this is NOT TO BE. She screams again when he reaces down and yanks her, at least until her shirt comes up about her neck and cuts off her airflow. Between being hung and being MAYBE shot is not a good choice, so Isi inches herselef to relieve the pressure against her neck. The way her shirt is hiked up puts the barrel of the gun right against her bare skin. "Please - spirits - please, don't do this. She doesn't have one, fuck, please, don't shoot me."

It's seriously a miracle that Isi isn't peeing herself.

A stroke of inspiration - or desperation - "Why... why don't we go look in the back? Right, go walk and and and go look you know?"

"YOU SHUT UP," the guy screams at Isi, his psuedo-calm breaking into pieces as he jams the shotgun into her ribs.

But then the words catch up to his brain and he stops. Going from screaming back to eerily calm, he says, "Yeah. Actually, yeah. That's a smart idea."

"But there aren't any--"

The gun leaves Isi's ribs to point at the counter woman again. "Don't fucking lie to me! You're gonna take us back there, and show us where the PS5s are. And nobody has to get hurt." He looks at Isi, his grip tightening on the back of her shirt. "Nobody has to get hurt. Right?"

"Right right! We're friends, totally friends, not at all ready to shoot someone who is just trying to find an asshole a gift because he gave her a gift - fuck I don't even celebrate Christmas..." Isi's rambling now and pushes herself towards him so that she can dismount the counter when he decides to move.

Big brown eyes stare at the girl - ears there begging her to go along.

And here's Jules, late to the party and late on her Christmas shopping, making her way to the registers with her headphones on because hell no she doesn't want to listen to Mariah Carey's Christmas song for the millionth time this month. The store's big enough that the end she was in remained blissfully unaware of the PS5 mania (and maniac), but as Jules looks for that last gift in the electronics section of the store, her obliviousness is about to come to a crashing halt. "The fuck," she says, likely too loud. One earbud drops out. The other's still in. The plastic-locked game in her hand is forgotten thanks to Dude With Rifle.

"What?" The guy with the gun gives Isi a look like she's the crazy person. "You don't buy assholes gifts. They're assholes. He's probably just trying to get in your pants anyway," is his very sage advice to the woman that he's holding at gunpoint. He pushes the barrel towards the counter woman. "You heard the lady. Take us to the fucking back."

The counter woman gives Isi a look as well. This one says more I hope you know what you're doing. But she steps out, hands up. "Okay, sir. Just stay calm and we'll see if we can find what it is you want back there."

"A P-S-FUCKING-FIVE. It's not hard to remember!" The gunman shouts.

The counter woman flinches and stumbles back, her path taking her directly into Jules' path, as the other woman is between them and the door to the inventory rooms.

"I don't think-" but Isi STOPS HERSELF because 'don't argue with the fucker with a gun' is probably a cardinal rule of being a hostage.

Not that she knows for sure, "Hostages For Dummies" somehow never made it onto her 'to-read' list for some weird reason. Opportunities lost there.

"Yes - gaming system for Mr. Shotgun here, let's do it. Let's find Mr. Shotgun a PS5. He has things to sh-" Wait, maybe don't remind him that he doesn't HAVE to play a game to shoot people. Her voice goes up an octave, "PLAY A GAME." Jules gets flashed a panicked look and she mouths CALL 911 bitch!

One might think, seeing as Jules still has an earbud in presumably connected to her phone, that calling 911 would be a thing she could do. One might think.

But no. Instead, Jules screams loud enough to wake the dead, and the things in her hands, game and shopping basket alike, go clattering to the ground, making a nice little mess of things to trip over. "WHAT KIND OF A FUCKING TOWN IS THIS?" That's all she gets out in words that make sense, because after that, she's too busy hyperventilating and violently shaking, face suddenly ashen. (She also pees her pants.)

Luckily, there are definitely about a dozen people calling 911 after fleeing screaming from the crazy dude with the shotgun. Who doesn't seem to mind being called Mr. Shotgun as he pushes Isi in front of him, the barrel of the shotgun almost bumping her shoulder as he points it at the counter woman.

And she nearly falls apart completely when Jules screams behind her. She also screams, and then breaks into sobs. "I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to," she just starts babbling frantically. And not moving towards the back.

Mr. Shotgun glares at Jules. Right beside Isi's ear, he screams at Jules, "Stop yelling! You fucking broke her and we're getting my goddamned PS5! Shut up! Shut up! Or I am going to blow your fucking head off!"

Isi could have done something really terrible there when Jules yells. She could have screamed and maybe yanked away from him. But she doesn't. She freezes instead. It's a really good for her.

"Fuck fuck, okay, let's try this again. We don't need her right? We ecan just go in the back. She's probably trying to fucking hide them from you anyways! Just you - me, we go back, find the shit we need."

She's trying to be brave but is shaking like crazy in Mr. Shotgun's grip.

The sound of distant sirens cuts out to a whoop or two about four blocks away. Then a minute or so later, there's a trio of cruisers triangulated on the front entrance, and cops in riot gear and rifles spilling out. Someone say hostage situation? They stay out of sight for the moment, communicating via hand signals as they surround the entrance, with what looks like a sharpshooter setting up shop across the street.

The threat works, kind of. No more yelling. Jules just collapses into whimpers. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod what is wrong with white people ohmygod I'm gonna die." She's pullig herself together, one little bit at a time, though it's too late for the wet spot that's spreading on her jeans. When color comes flooding back to her face, it'll be flushed with embarrassment. But she's not there yet, not fully aware of her own body thanks to SHOTGUN. Jules reaches out for the salesperson, gripping her arm so hard her fingers will leave inprints. "It's okay, it's okay. Sshhhh. It's gonna be okay."

There's plenty of witnesses who run out to the cruisers as they pull up, with a breathtaking lack of chill or recognition that the cops might be trying to be, y'know, stealthy. They immediately begin babbling about what's going on inside. One claims it's Antifa come to kill everyone in the name of communism, but the rest manage to get across a semi-coherent story of a guy in the video game department with a shotgun. Something about a PS5?

Meanwhile, in the store, Mr. Shotgun once again listens to Isi, licking his lips and going, "You're right. She was probably just gonna lead us around in fucking circles, anyway." He shoves Isi forward, and glares at Jules. "Get out of the fucking way." The salesperson, meanwhile, is still sobbing, and has moved on to clutching Jules back and telling her that she wasn't even supposed to work today, the bastard manager demanded that she come in, and fuck this entire store.

Right. Walkie time. Time to walk.

Isi flashes a terrified look at Jules before heading in the direction of the back of the stores. Mouthing, 'please get help'. The no-customer area is back by the bathrooms so Isi knows the way. She makes sure not to go too fast, but also not too slow.

The cop in charge, who turns out to be the Chief of Police behind all that black body armour, barks at the people flooding out to get your hands up, NOW NOW NOW. There's an officer ready to frisk each of them with a smack of hands along either side of their body, before anything close to a statement will be taken.

And then, since the door's been blown wide open anyway, in goes de la Vega, with a gesture for the others to cover him. Rifles up, there's another shout from one of them for Mr. Shotgun to drop your weapon and get on the fucking ground.

The salesperson's sentiment is one that Jules is rapidly coming to share. "I know, I know," she says, because she has to say something, trying to sound as soothing as she can instead of like someone who's just peed her pants. "We're getting out of the way," she hastily accedes, pulling the other woman with her as she tries to do just that -- to get out of the way before man with gun realizes he's letting people go. Her wide-eyed nod is for Isi and gunman both: yes, get out of the fucking way; yes, get help. "Come on." Except, with the police presence making itself known, the plan changes from 'run for the exit' to 'get on the fucking ground' because the last thing she needs is for police to mistakenly shoot her.

Down goes Jules, and the saleswoman follows suit, still crying. And Mr. Shotgun? He freezes. The slack-jawed expression of surprise suggests that he never once thought that anyone would call the police. And now he looks both terrified and offended. Rather than flee towards the back, he swings Isi around like a human shield to face towards the approaching cops, and stepping to where Jules and the salesperson are just in front of him on the ground. He puts the barrel of the shotgun against the side of Isi's head, and shouts, "You stop right there! I'll kill her! I swear I will! You bring me my fucking PS5 or I will blow her head off!"

This is where Isi closes her eyes and starts to pray. Yes, she is crying, no, she isn't talking any more.

The rifles stay up; the cops are tense. The hostages are tense. Someone's probably whimpering in a corner. Someone else is probably trying to covertly film this from their iPhone. The Chief takes a moment to consider his options, and his tongue swipes across his mouth slowly as he considers the guy about to blow off Isi Cameron's head. But, not today, fuckface is the conclusion he reaches in those taut moments.

"You're not going to kill her," he replies quietly, lowering his weapon. Eye contact's maintained throughout, and maybe the guy feels it in his fingers first, or his shoulders, or his eyelids; the sensation of ease. The desire to simply.. stop, and breathe, and relax. Maybe lie down for a little while. Overwhelming calm washes through him, to the point of mild delirium. "You're not going to blow her head off." The other cops are gestured to hold their fire, but not stand down.. yet. And de la Vega prowls in closer, until he can lay his hand on the grip of the shotgun, and attempt to relinquish it from the gunman. Slowly.

Jules is down in the ground, hands on her head, but she’s peeking up in the manner of someone who simply can’t look away. As the police chief approaches Mr. Shotgun I Want My PS5, those eyes go even wider. And here she did not realize that was even possible. “What the hell,” she whispers. After all, who in their right mind just walks up and disarms a crazy person?

Isi can feel it, both in her head and in the grip that the guy has on her, in the way the shotgun is no longer firmly pressed against her skull but instead drifts an inch off of true. Jules only has that itch inside her mind to go by, the thing that tells her someone did something here, and it was definitely the cop who is stepping forward. Mr. Shotgun says, calmly, "I'm not going to blow her head off. I just...I wanted to get one thing for my kid, you know? One thing to prove that I'm not the fuckup he thinks I am. I paid fifteen hundred dollars to a guy on eBay, and then he sent me an empty fucking box. Said that's all that was promised."

He doesn't sound sad, right now. He doesn't sound anything. And when Ruiz lays his hand on the shotgun, he gives it over with no more protest than a little, sad sigh. He releases the back of Isi's shirt, and asks, calmly, "I'm going to jail now, huh?"

Isi's eyes fly open when that wave of mindfuckery calm sweeps into action. She'll try to meet Ruiz' gaze with something akin to basic unfettered hope. Hope that proves itself true when the gun is removed from her head and the hand releases her shirt. Then she abruptly collapses right where she's standing - giving into they hyperventilating that she'd managed to avoid while actually having the gun pointed at her.

The second that weapon's no longer pointed at Isi. The second de la Vega gets it safetied and passed off to one of his officers, the other cops move in to collect him roughly and slap a pair of handcuffs on him and start shoving him bodily toward the door. The Chief observes all of this, dark eyes troubled, creased softly at the corners. Then his view of the guy's blocked by the armoured bodies of his fellow officers, and he turns his attention back to Isi. His rifle's stowed in its sling, and he offers her a gloved hand up.

That sound? Is the ambulances rolling in. Protocol prevents the paramedics from entering a scene before it's been secured by the cops, but as soon as the word's given, they'll be looking for casualties.

For a miracle, there are very few, other than deep and serious distress; the worst injury (that the paramedics can do anything about) is someone who ran into a display trying to get away from the shooter and broke his ankle when he fell.

“Oh my god.” It’s relief, sighed out with all the panicky fear Jules has been trying to hold in. Still on the ground, still belly down, she pillows her head in her arms and starts quietly crying.