i just finished 3 from hell and felt compelled by a higher power. read on to watch me purposely disregard foxy in order to write emotional sibling stuff. warning for death but is anyone surprised? this features otis driftwood, death follows him like a bad smell.
It really was just the two of them. They were the future.
Sure, other people came and went. Fucked them over or sold them out or dropped fucking dead. People came and went, but they were forever.
Otis and Baby until the end.
He’s thankful, he supposes. Foxy really pulled through for him when he really thought it might be the end of the line for him.
Still, three’s company and all that. He had to go.
His last bullet for his last brother.
He ought to feel bad, but when did Otis Driftwood ever feel things like ‘bad’ or 'guilty’. No, no, he did what he had to do and that’s just how the world keeps on turning.
Like he told Baby: it’s just the two of them.
He wonders if he should tell Baby about this, how he cut Foxy’s string of fate himself. He wouldn’t. He would. He’d decide on the way.
He finds his clothes under the bed and pulls them on, buckling his belt and holster and salvaging a gun and ammo from the prone corpse of a Black Satan. Satan, he could laugh.
Spying through the windows he assess the situation. Only 6 guys left that he could count. Then he spies Baby, tied haphazardly to the fountain in the centre of town.
That asshole is parading around in his fancy fucking suit like it gives him some virtue, some divine fucking purpose, Satanic or otherwise. No, no, Otis thinks again, no this asshole wouldn’t know Satan if he came knocking on his front door, which he very well could.
He makes his way downstairs, close to the walls and ducking under windows. A voice spilling in, loud and grating in the empty square. Come out or he’ll shoot.
Baby could take it.
He won’t let her. He was always getting in the way of her fun. Especially when she won’t shut the fuck up.
They manage, like they always do. Sure, help that is freely given won’t be turned down, but they can’t be expected to save every wannabe-misfit-toy-motherfucker they come across.
No, no, Otis thinks, no one has been able to keep up with them. Not back then, when they rode into town and folk looked down their noses at the pig-farmers. Even in a hick town, the Fireflys were too backwater. Not now, with a cartel on their backs and ten years – wasted years – to make up for.
No, Otis thinks. No one has ever been able to keep up with him like Baby does.
