Give Me Your Guitar Old Man


slim_icon.gif brooks_icon.gif

Scene Title Give Me Your Guitar Old Man
Synopsis Slim and Brooks meet on a street corner in early morning. Slim buys Brooks a meal and brings him along to meet a 'friend'.
Date February 5, 2011

Prospect Park

Prospect Park is a 585-acre public park sitting square in the heart of Brooklyn. While the borough around this verdant region of lush foliage, tall trees and rolling hills is prospering, Prospect Park has become something of a ghetto within the city's bowels. Brooklyn has grown steadily following the destruction of Midtown, but not everyone in New York City can afford to live in Brooklyn, and those that cant have resorted to vagrancy across the city. Some brave the southern edge of Central Park on Manhattan, but the lion's share of mainland New York's homeless are here in Prospect Park.

Where once was a blossoming park pulling itself up from a nadir of abandonment and disuse in the seventies, Prospect Park has sunken back down into a state of disrepair and squalor. Tracts of forested land are laden with blue tarp tents, fire pits and makeshift shanty towns. The park is no longer officially maintained by the state of New York due to budget constraints, so the park's once pristine boat house and other facilities have been made into a makeshift homeless community, such as they are.

The Prospect Park Zoo, which once featured over seven hundred animals, was closed shortly after the bomb and the facility rests in decay in the park behind rusting iron gates and sturdy fence.

Brooks smiled at Slim as he spoke, cheerful posture taken as he heard the words, "Good to know, I don't really enjoying fighting cept for sport." He continued to laugh softly to himself as he watched a man approach, a slight nudge given towards SLim's ribs, "That the man there?" Head tilted in the direction from which the man approached and with only a few seconds to go his question was awnsered, "We can all stay here, it's only a simple cash transfer right.. Mister.. Hawkins?" He raised a brow as his frame stood from the bench and he towered over the much shorter man, "Just here to make sure everything is peaceful.." He eyes Slim,"For both sides."

The man referred to as Hawkins looks from Slim to Brooks, and back again. "Th'hell is this, Slim? You tryin' to screw me over?!" He fidgets restlessly, scratching at himself with finger-less gloved hands. He blinks hard several times.

Slim stands simultaneously with Brooks, nodding in assent with what his associate said. "No, no, just here to make sure everything's smooth. I don't want no trouble. Fifty it was, hm?"

Hawkins snarls a bit, gauging the couple steps' distance between him and the massive man. He was almost an entire foot taller than him, and the jonesing man was clearly nervous about his presence. "Hundred now," he says, words melding together almost incoherently.

Slim tsks again. "Hundred?" he asks incredulously. "I don't think so, Hawkins. Considerin' I gave you twenty upfront, anyways, ain't gon' pay no more interest." His hand reaches into his wrinkled suit coat, into the inner pocket, and makes for a very tense moment. The other man freezes at this movement, eyes widening, and his own hand shoots back behind him into his ass pocket for something.

Brooks watched over the two of the curiously, rather unsure how this whole scene was about to go down but he figured if he was going to play middle man he'd better place himself in there. His body was posistioned between the two as he eyed Hawkins, "You want a hundred? Don't you understand tough times man? This guy is obviously homeless and havin' a hard enough time.. COuldn't you cut him a break?" He sighed, "Problem with you types." His hand reached into his own pocket, the one in front at his thigh and removed a wallet, inside he fingered about but found no cash except a few dollars in change which was dumped into his hand, "That cover intrest by chance?" The change was dirty and grungy and looked to be picked off the street. As both men looked to get antsy Brooks placed himself as tall as he could between them both, in an attempt to intimidate them, "Now calm down ya both.. Let me see what your grabbing for." Years as a security guard had taught Brooks tense situations and anytime someone grabbed for something unseen, people got tense.

All-too eager hands snatch Brooks' act of kindness from his palm, stuffing them into his own pocket. Hawkins grins now, pulling out a switchblade and showing it to the large man blatantly, reflecting back his likeness in the clean stainless steel blade.

Slim has produced a fold of bills from his vest pocket, not any weapon, and he looks up to the two other men with a startled expression. "Woah, Hawkins, put that away. I got yer fifty," he says, taking a step forward. He unfolds a few bills, clear enough to Brooks as twenties by the likeness of Andrew Jackson, and puts them back into his coat pocket. It seems his transient status doesn't have much bearing on his finances. The restof the cash is held out in front of him to the crazed junkie. "Take it and go; we're even."

Hawkins twists the knife around threateningly, before dropping his gaze to the money. His free hand lurches outwards and snatches it in a similar manner that they took the chump change from Jack, and proceed to forcefully stuff them into the front of his jeans. He grins wickedly, now looking to the bench. "Gimme yer guitar, too, old man," he orders, apparently disregarding the hulking man hovering above him at this point.

Brooks watched the cash a nod given, "Yep, he gots your cash, you got some intrest, now you should be going along right?" He watched as the man snatched away the cash and with a frown shook his head as he continued on with his greed, "Listen, I can pummel your skull in with my bare hands, knife or not. You see that cement below your feet? Guarantee that'll be hurting you if you don't quit.. Now please, move along, I'd rather you made it out of here with all the pieces of your brains in place." He turned towards Slim momentarily, "You're a good guy Slim, sorry for doubting you."

As Brooks turns towards Slim, he sees a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver held in his grip and pointed straight towards the junkie; apparently his last demand really struck a chord with him, no pun intended. "Yeah, Hawkins. Keep all your brains, and skidaddle," he says, lip pulling back to reveal gritted teeth as he does so.

Hawkins looks first to Brooks, then to the barrel of the gun with significant dismay. He flicks his wrist, unfolding the switchblade, and puts it back in wherever it came from behind his back. Seeing that Slim does not lower the small handgun, he turns and sprints back into the woods, as if thinking he might be robbed of the cash now. He disappears behind the rustling of the bushes.

Slim returns the revolver into its holster beneath his left armpit, and pulls his blazer overtop it again. Rubbing his temples, he looks now to Jack. "No apologies necessary," he says to him. "I'm a good guy, most of the time. Reckon I owe you somethin' more'n a samwich, though. Didn't mean to endanger your life there."

Brooks spotted the gun, weary of the small revolver, "Whoa Slim, put that away now." He sighed, "Isn't a need to be a pulling guns on people about now." Another frown as he turned towards the other man just in time to see him run away. Eyes turned back towards Slim, "I wish you wouldn't pull a gun on the man, isn't like he did anything to bad.. Although.. I do understand wanting to keep the guitar, I can protect that for you." He turned away slightly disapointed as he ignored the words, "I know you like the guitar but no life is worth more then an object.. As for more, I am just happy to help, next time keep the gun holstered until needed though?"

Slim does not offer any semblence of assent with Brooks' critique. "His life ain't worth more'n a possum on the doorstep," he says, almost as if spitting the words. "He's goddamn lucky I let him hoof it outta here. Whether he touched my guitar or not -lucky for him he didn't- I wasn't gon' let him get away without learnin' the notion of respect." Based on the emotion in his words, it was likely a situation Slim had found himself in more than once before. "Two things keep me outta trouble and in this world. First, my guitar. Second, my gun. Only pull the other when the first don't work. You'd have a few extra holes if'n I hadn't, anyways." He sighs, scratching his head and propping up his hat in the process. "Look. I got myself roomed up in an ol' boat house through the woods down that way. 'pendin' on how you got yourself housed, I could make room for ya."

Brooks sighed at the man, "His life is worth more then that, you just need to give him the chance.. Sure, he's an ass but with some help you never know how much a man can change." He smiled as he thought over all the people he had assisted in his time, "You shouldn't be so quick on the draw, teach him respect, sure blast out part of his leg if you must but don't kill him." He sighed once more, "It just ain't worth it if you ask me." He looked to the guitar then the place he holstered the gun only to repeat this once more, "You know, how 'bout this, Slim, you don't go around blasting people, I will stick around and help you out for it. Alright? Just, keep the gun holstered till we really need it.. And, in return I will gladly take you up on the offer of the boathouse. I use to stay in an ol' warehouse but I don't really find much there anymore."

Slim's face contorts somewhat at the stipulations. "Shootin' that rat in the leg'd just have more trouble breathin' on my neck. I didn't have no 'tentions of blastin' his brains, just wanted him to beat outta here. I'll keep my wits for me, and trust you for your own, yeah? We can help eachother out; make some money, stay alive, and maybe get out of this God-forsaken city." Slim goes to pick up his guitar, and remembers the second half of his sandwich that remains. He takes up both of these and starts down the desolate pathway, apparently off to wherever he's been squatting.

Brooks stared at the man for a brief moment as he listened and finally nodded, "Alright, I think I can go with what you say.. Just keep your trigger finger more passive alright? And leave it to me.. I'm a big guy and I can hold my own, even been shot a couple times on the streets out here, won't lie it hurts but I got more then enough to keep going." He sighed, "And if anyone is going to be getting hurt, I'd rather it was me anyways. You smaller folk just don't have the capacity for pain I do." Okay now he was just teasing the man as his hand went to pat him on the back and soon his feet would trail once more along side the musician.

"I can tell y'ain't born in the city, 'n I'll giveya that, but boy, I was raised in Mi'ssippi hill country. There's more tough than muscle. And your ability to keep goin' is entirely 'pendant on their ability to shoot." Slim pauses, turning his head over his shoulder to the look at the giant. "'sides, didn't even ha'my finger on the trigger." Oh, he was a superb bluffer if that was true, and true it was. He really mustn't have meant to shoot that man. "We'll get a fire goin', warm up a bit." He was sort of mumbling by now. "You don't drink? I still can't believe you don't drink. I def'nately need a drink after that. Got some coffee too…" He rattles on, all the way to their destination, in a moderately good mood, almost as if he wasn't fifty dollars lighter than earlier that morning.

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