Fan Fiction ❯ The Rage of Mr. Blonde ❯ Mr. Orange/His Trials, His Troubles ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: Don't own the movie, Reservoir Dogs, or the characters.

Author's Note: This chapter is about Mr. Orange, as the previous two were about two other members of the robbery. However, since movie goers saw Mr. Orange meet with Cabot already, he will already be with the group when the flashback starts. Mr. Orange recounts his time with the group, and the events that take place inside the warehouse after the ambush. FINALLY!!!

IMPORTANT: This first part is a flashback, and the second part is only Mr. Orange thinking about what HAS happened, not what is happening.

This will most likely be the second-to-the-last chapter of this story.

AND MAKE SURE YOU REVIEW!!!

`The Rage of Mr. Blonde'

Chapter 5: Mr. Orange/His Trials, His Troubles

* * *

The warehouse was mustier, hotter, and smokier than usual. The guys were sitting around in a near complete circle of old chairs, smoking their cigarettes. After White, Pink, and Freddy (that's Orange's name if you haven't seen the film) arrived with Nice Guy, they found Blonde and Blue waiting for the big man. Joe Cabot.

They were to have one final `warehouse' meeting before the robbery the next day. Blonde was a bit ancy; they had planned on going to lunch after this. When White had offered the rest of them cigarettes, they mumbled in agreement, and all sat down to wait for Cabot.

"Where the fuck is he anyway, Nice Guy?" Pink seemed outraged as he lit up his own cigarette. Pink's mustache bristled as he lifted the cigarette to his lips, taking in deeply the smoke.

Nice Guy, across from Pink, responded, "Just chill, Pink. Dad's coming soon enough for you. He's a very busy man, you know."

Freddy lounged on his chair, holding the cigarette between two fingers. He felt at ease, but inside his gut was convoluted. His brain was screaming at Freddy, asking him, "Why the fuck did you agree to this fucking job in the first place? You're gonna get yourself fucking killed by these guys!"

He tried getting those words out of his head. Optimism was one thing you needed as a cop, as he had learned over the seven years he had been on the force.

Freddy had told Cabot and Eddie a fake story about him being a drug-dealer, known to his friend Holdaway as the `Commode' story. Cabot enjoyed it so much, he believed Freddy to be resourceful enough to take on a job like this. The diamond robbery. He was in. Now, all Freddy had to do was wait for Joe Cabot be caught red-handed in the warehouse during the robbery.

At first, he had believed that White, Blonde, Eddie, and all the rest of them to be the scoundrels that most movies portrayed them as. Freddy was wrong, as usual. Mr. Orange, as Joe and the rest called him, had started to like them, except Mr. Blonde. Not that there was anything wrong with the guy, it's was just that he seemed to be holding back any emotion, real emotions. He just did not know what the real Blonde would do, say, or think, alone.

Now Mr. White, Freddy had grown to even call him a friend, or partner in crime. The two talked for hours about not just about the inevitable robbery, but anything that happened to strike the older White's mind.

From baseball, to betting, to food, they conversed at one time or another about everything. Freddy came out of his `I'm not gonna die' daze and realized that Pink and Brown were in the middle of a heated argument.

"No, fuck face," retorted Mr. Brown, "the most overrated film of all time has to be the second Star Wars movie. `The Empire Shits Back!' That's what they shoulda called it. Sorriest piece of crap ever. I mean, what was the point of that freaky green thing?"
"Yoda?" Blue's confused look directed to the two of them, Pink and Brown.

Mr. Brown raised his hand halfway, and smirked, "Thank you, Mr. Blue. I can now die a happy man. Yes, Yoda."

As Pink watched with an annoyed expression, Mr. Brown tried to imitate Yoda's gurgley voice, but badly. White rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. He was never into that dork shit. He did love the Shatner years of Star Trek, though, Freddy had learned during a game of put-put golf two days ago.

When Brown was happy with his side of the argument, Pink could only close his eyes, as if tired, and say, "You're hopeless."

A door slammed shut behind the group. A fat man in a black shirt and gray pants appeared. Although shorter and fatter than everyone else (not to mention balder) Joe Cabot still presented an imposing figure. In his hand was a vanilla folder. The man walked passed the onlookers, who remained silent, as if in awe, sparing barely a glance towards them.

As if on cue, Nice Guy, White, Freddy and the rest of the guys pulled their chairs away, and positioned themselves towards Cabot like students to a teacher.

Joe was standing silently in front of a blackboard, with various pictures and words scribed upon it with chalk, forming a map of the area around the bank. In front of the store, the word `Brown' was next to the sidewalk, while the words White, Pink, Blue, Blonde, and Orange followed an area that pointed inside the store. Some inches away, the word `RENDEZVOUS' was written on a large square, their current position.

They waited for Cabot to say something. As they waited, the smoke started to clear as one by one, they smashed their used cigarettes onto the ground with their boots and shoes. Freddy's was pretty much untouched.

Freddy stared intently stared into Joe's eyes as the big man babbled about plants, jokes, and capers. When Freddy awoke once again from his daze, Joe had just finished assigning names. Mr. Pink, now officially known as Mr. Pink, seemed angry about the idea, as was Mr. Brown, now officially Mr. Brown, who thought that his alias resembled too much like Mr. Shit. Oh well.

When everything was said and done, Joe motioned too leave, and the others followed. Mr. Blonde smiled, licking his lips at the thought of lunch. Freddy trailed behind them at the very back, behind Nice Guy Eddie.

"Anyone up for pizza?" Joe's voice bellowed around the empty warehouse as he opened the door to the bright outside.

* * *

Mr. Orange had been laying in his own blood for about two hours, yet the will of the human body to live was keeping his agony continuing, delaying death even further. Mr. Blonde lay in his own blood next to the warehouse door, about fifteen to twenty feet away from Orange. Multiple bullet wounds bloodied Blonde's unmoving form. He was dead now, and Freddy had done it with his own gun, his hands.

Orange, however, was still dying from the one bullet he had received after the set up. It was not a cop, nor a robber who had done it. It was a woman. A regular woman. Never in his entire career as an officer had he been shot. And now, someone he swore to protect, defend, and all that bullshit, had shot him just because he happened to look like a robber. Suit, shades, and a gun in his hand. Mr. Orange smiled faintly at the irony of it all. Okay, so he couldn't blame her. He was playing a robber after all.

But tears burst from his eyes as he thought further, sloshing his hands in the red pool surrounding him.

When he fell to the ground from her shot, he, without thinking, and most definitely without impunity, shot her square in the chest. He had begun to tear up when White had gotten him into the woman's car (the backseat), and White into the driver's.

As he writhed in both searing pain and fear in the backseat, Mr. White kept trying to reassure him that he was gonna be alright. For a second, Mr. Orange believed him as he held his own bullet wound, which was located in his gut.

By the time they had reached the rendezvous, the car was smeared in blood, both of his own, and of the woman's. White had helped him out of the car, carrying him inside, and laying him down, again, reassuring the undercover cop.

Mr. Orange thought back a little more, when Mr. Pink walked in, ranting about a setup as White continued to care for his wound. Freddy had to admit to himself, he had started to fear for his life when White and Pink wondered if one of the group was to be a `rat'. `What if they find out?' That and other questions haunted him until he had fallen asleep, unable to bear the pain anymore.

Freddy looked over to his left. On a chair, restrained and trapped by masking tape, was the worst looking cop ever. He was beaten up, slashed, gashed, drenched, you name it. Marvin, the cop's name, mumbled to himself as he tried to remain conscience. He was just glad that his tormentor was finally dead.

Freddy, his co-worker, looked up towards the old ceiling. Then he remembered more about the psychotic Blonde. Mr. Orange had awakened to the sound of music, a song was playing on K-Billy's Super Sounds of the 70's. There was no Pink or White to be found, nor anyone else. Except for Marvin, in the chair, and Mr. Blonde.

It was horrible for Freddy to look on. Blonde had tortured Marvin by using a knife to cut an ear of the poor bastard. An ear! Of all things, the sick fuck.

Mr. Blonde was telling jokes to himself and the tortured Marvin when the psycho left for his car. With Stealer's Wheel still playing on the radio, Blonde came back with a tank full of gasoline he had snatched from his car. Only after Blonde had drenched the pleading cop with gasoline, preparing to burn him to death, did Orange finally get the motivation, and strength to act.

Freddy used his bloody gun to fire about five shots into the murderer. Blonde seemed both surprised, and confused, but anger and fear never entered the man's mind, for some reason. Blonde stumbled over next to the exit, and gave one last look at his killer before resting his head, dead.

Mr. Orange waited for the breathing to stop before he began to converse with Marvin. It appeared later on in that three minute conversation that Marvin knew he was a cop. Freddy had to admit, for a rookie, Marvin was extremely loyal to the whole operation, even if it did mean losing an ear and the possibility of being burnt alive.

But now what was Freddy going to do? He had killed one of their own. Surely he could not blame it on Marvin: he was as helpless as a child.

Then it dawned on Freddy. Was he doomed from the start?

The whole point of the job was to sell out seven other guys he had never met before in his life. And for some reason God knows, he LIKED them! They were his friends, dammit! Eddie's jacket was beginning to not be as annoying as usual, and now he betrayed them to their dooms, whether it be prison, or death. Yes, death. He had given his friends death even.

Freddy knew fast-talking Mr. Brown was dead as a doornail. He remembered that as well, too, for it was only hours ago. Brown was shot in the head by the cops. Blue was most likely dead as well. There was no way that Blue could survive in a cop-infested town for even ten minutes. Freddy himself slayed Mr. Blonde, although, Freddy comforted himself, the bastard deserved it.

Mr. White and Mr. Pink were who-knows-where, and the Cabots were nowhere to be found. That was the goal. Once Cabot came to the warehouse, the cops would pounce on the unsuspecting robbers, and arrest any and all, retrieving the diamonds, locking Joe up for a good long time, and saving Freddy. Mr. Orange smirked.

As if.

There would be no savior for him. The only person he could right now count on was White, his friend, his enemy. But it would only be a matter of time before White would find out about him, about his real identity. Freddy Newendyke, LAPD.

Freddy briefly trailed back in his mind to Brown's conversation about Star Wars, and The Empire Strikes Back. He was this story's Lando Calrissian. Mr. White was this tale's Han Solo. He betrayed himself, in a way, and had betrayed his friends, like White. Except this time, there would be no rescuing of Han Solo from the clutches of Jabba the Hut. No reconciliation with each other whatsoever. Lando was doomed to die, and to die with his guilt with him this one time. And Han will finally realize what kind of person Lando is, but it would be too late for either of them. And so would end the story of Han and Lando's friendship.

Freddy tried to sleep, but Marvin continued to moan in agony.

He was going to die, and if Marvin was not careful, so would he. But Freddy remained silent. Freddy remained strong. After all that has happened to him, he still tried to cling to any chance of hope for both his and Mr. White's futures.

He had experienced much this one traumatic day. Freddy, aka Mr. Orange, had witnessed the massacre of innocent lives by the reckless Mr. Blonde, an enigma unto himself. He had seen a new friend, Mr. Brown, die so tragically, at such a young age. He even saw Pink's and White's friendship at the brinks, as they argued with guns pointed. Freddy watched as a fellow cop get maimed, and Freddy had shot the killer of so many, but that killer was also the friend of the Cabots.

What would happen to the dieing Mr. Orange?

He heard the sound of the door bursting open, and the voices of the astounded witnesses to Blonde's body. Freddy smiled quickly. The pain was almost over.

* * *

End of chapter 5. Did you like? I think this is my best chapter yet!

I think you'll be surprised by what you'll find out in the very last chapter.

For the last chapter, Mr. Pink finally gets his swing at his own chapter.

Please review, and give me any comments for the final chapter: Getaway.

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