Fan Fiction ❯ The Rage of Mr. Blonde ❯ Getaway ( Chapter 6 )

The Rage of Mr. Blonde (Chapter Six: Mr. Pink's Getaway)

AN: Last chapter! Unless you guys write in for me to continue the story, but this is basically where I planned to end it. I hope you enjoyed the story, but don't worry, I'm starting an O-Ren Ishii and maybe a Jackie Brown fanfic, one or other; not sure.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Tarantino film, script, or character.

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CHAPTER SIX: Mr. Pink's Getaway

Mr. Pink grabbed the black bag that contained the lustful diamonds inside quickly, being sure not to look at the gruesome scene around him. It was just minutes before that they had found Mr. Blonde in a pool of blood next to the door. BAM! The moment Nice Guy, himself, and Mr. White had walked into the warehouse…there was Blonde! Dead.

Nice Guy had set the bag near Blonde's body, as Joe's son began asking the dieing Mr. Orange on what the hell happened.

It was then that Joe came in, accusing Orange of being a cop. And before he knew, Pink heard shots come from White, Eddie, and Joe. All three were on the ground bleeding when Pink tip-toed his way past the dead cop, next to the wounded Orange and the groaning White, and over the dead Cabots.

Amazingly, his friend Joe was killed, along with his son, and their friends, White and Blonde, within a span of only an hour. What in the hell had gotten into them? This was supposed to be a simple heist, but that robbery soon became a massacre on both sides.

Pink closed the warehouse door, his eyes never turning back to his fallen comrades and friends: it was their fault, and he was smart. He was the professional.

The day was still hot, and Pink still had to get out of town. He took his keys from his pocket, and unlocked his car. He got, and threw the diamond bag into the front passenger's. He turned on the ignition, with a leg still out of the car and looked up.

The cops had come.

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"So, Pete," began Cabot, "what's this job I've been hearing lately?"

"Oh, Joe, it's nothing really," said Mr. Pink, "just loading boxes for this moving company. Real crappy, I tell you." Joe threw his cigar butt away in the garbage bin, and looked through some papers on his messy desk. Mr. Pink looked on.

"That sucks."

"I know that, Joe. But I can't get out of it: I've been laid off for nearly a year, and the guy did me a favor with this job. I'm starting to put my life back together again."

"You were fine to begin with, my friend," reassured Joe.

"Joe, I dropped out of school and became your hired hand. I robbed, and I stole, and vandalized."

"But you didn't kill anybody."

"And I'm proud of that," announced Pink with pride.

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Cop cars streamed towards the house to block the lane, preventing his escape. Pin thought fast on what he was gonna do. His eyes shot from the diamonds, to his gun, to the wheel, to the cops, and back to the gun again.

He raised his gun in his right hand, above the wheel, but made sure the cops didn't see it. He thought for a moment more, and then dropped it. The gun slid down under the brake pedal. Pink stepped out of the car, and raised his hands. The jig was finally up for him.

"Get the fuck down! Get on the ground!" The cops ran up to him, about nine in all and more coming. He did so, so as to not get shot by them. Damn, he thought, his suit was now getting all dirty.

"Are you a cop-killer?"

"What the fuck?" Mr. Pink was stunned by the cop's question. He looked up at the cop, who was bald. "Yes, I killed a cop."

The cop nodded and ordered, "Stay down, scumbag. We're going after your friends. We've already found two of them."

Mr. Pink's head shot up from the sleeping position. Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue. Maybe they were still alive. Perhaps there was a small hope that they would come and get him.

"Where are they?"

"We found one of them in a green car." Mr. Brown's car, thought Pink.

"Mr. Brown?"
"How the hell should I know? His ID said `Tommy'."

Mr. Brown was Tommy, repeated in Mr. Pink's head. Tommy was Brown's name. "Was Tommy alive?"

"No," answered the cop. Mr. Pink's expression saddened. Damn. "He was shot in the head. And still in the car seat, too. Seemed as if someone left him there. Must have been in a hurry!" The cop laughed at his own last remark.

So, what Mr. White had said about Brown was true. He had been shot in the head. Mr. Pink tried to block it out of his head, though. How could White know for sure, anyway?

Five cops headed into the warehouse, barging through the door, armed to the teeth with shotguns. Mr. Pink looked down so that his nose dug into the dust.

Inside, Mr. Pink heard gunshots.

* * *

"Want to work for me again, Pete?"

"No way, Joe," said Pink, who seemed disgusted with the idea, "look man, I'm thankful for everything you've done for me. But working for a drug dealer isn't the job for me anymore."

"No, Pete. It has nothing to do with drugs."
"What, then?" Pink still remained skeptical. Joe always did this to him, always making do various criminal activities, and somehow he always agreed to it.

"It's a robbery."

"Alone?"

"No, no, Pete, my boy. There will be five other guys with you on this heist. The earnings will be split between the eight of us."
"How much is it? The money must be a lot if it's gonna be split eight times."

"Well, it's not money either. It's diamonds."

"Oh."

"So what do you say? Are you in, or are you in, Pete?" Joe stretched his hand across the desk, waiting for Pete's agreement.

Mr. Pink daydreamed for a second, and then took Joe's hand with his own. "Okay, but this IS the last time, Joe." Damn, Joe had done it again.

"You won't, Pete my boy, you won't."

Mr. Pink began to hope what Joe was saying was true, and that he would have no regrets this time next week.

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Mr. Pink was going down to the station in a cop's car now. The fates of all of his former partners had all been sealed. When Pink asked of Mr. Blue, the same cop just nodded and answered that the man had died by the side of the road not far from the warehouse.

After that, Mr. Pink remained silent. He didn't care anymore. He wasn't even with the diamonds. Some other cop took them in a separate car.

The two cops in the front were listening to the news as the station became closer and closer. Pink listened to stave off complete depression. Something caught his attention. The announcer's voice cleared before it began again, "In a startling turn of events for the city of Los Angeles today, a diamond robbery on Almonds Road that took pace a half hour after noon-time, has finally ended at a warehouse downtown. It all began today as six individuals drove up to the front of the store, and demanded new diamonds that had been brought over just the past morning. According to eyewitness accounts from passer-bys, a tall man killed at least a dozen people altogether after an alarm was triggered. Although his partners tried to restrain him, he managed to kill exactly 5 cops afterwards, including taking one cop hostage. Until now, the officer's whereabouts were unknown until just a half hour ago, in a warehouse, where the body of the policeman was duct-taped to a chair, amid five other badly bleeding bodies. Two bodies have been identified as Joe Cabot and his son, Eddie Cabot. The two were leaders of one of the most notorious drug gangs in the LA area, but had been known to do robberies of this sort every now and then. Another body was of the enraged man of the earlier massacre, which had been badly bloodied by several shots to the chest. Next to the body of fallen undercover officer Freddy Newendyke, was that of one Lawrence Dimmick, a native of Wisconsin who has had a bad track record with the law. Officers on the scene say that Dimmick killed an already bloodied Newendyke, shooting him in the head. At that instant, the cops open fired on the man, who died immediately afterwards. Attempts were made to help the undercover officer, but the man had been dieing for hours since then. Two other bodies who appear to have taken part in the robbery have also been found around he city. One body, that of an older man's, was found near a cop car on the side of the road. Inside the car, one officer was dead, and the other was badly injured. Another, this time of a younger man's, was found inside a green car a couple miles away from the warehouse. He had been shot in the head. The LAPD has already made estimates on the number of killed this day from noon to about 4:38 PM, when the police arrested the last remaining criminal. Six criminals, including Cabot and Eddie, were killed, either by the police or apparently themselves oddly enough; two cops in the warehouse were dead upon discovery; two cops died at a post when they were run down by a green car, possibly the younger man's; about ten officers total were shot to death at the initial robbery, with five severely wounded; one cop died from a possible shoot-out with the older man; and at least thirteen innocent civilians died during the brutal massacre at noon. Although the body count seems to grow with each passing minute, the station has calculated about 34 have died this day, officer, civilian, and criminal. Still developing, the officers killed today, including Freddy Newendyke and Marvin Nash, will receive full honors when they are buried next week."

Mr. Pink stared out the window, stunned by the rush of information given to him. He had known so little during the day. He did not know where Mr. Blue was. He did not know White had possibly killed his friend, Joe. He did not know they could turn on each other like that. He did not know Mr. Orange would trick them like the way he did, playing with them as if they were fools. They trusted him.

Trust, thought Mr. Pink, why was he speaking of trust. A criminal like him? What did trust have to do with cop-killers? Everything. Today, men's honor bled from shame, emotion, and fear. Paranoia. He had paranoia the entire time, and he felt stupid for that. But should he be ashamed? Mr. Orange did break their trust. He had betrayed them. Did Freddy Newendyke deserve to die? No, but neither did Mr. White or Nice Guy, or Brown, or anyone else. The people at the store did not deserve what they got.

Damn you, Blonde, you killed those people.

Damn you, Blue, you ran away when your friends needed you most.

Damn you, Joe, why did you get them into this bedlam?

Damn you, Pete, you left your friends bleeding on the cold floor.

Damn you, Freddy, you broke a killer's trust, and a killer's trust is a hard thing to break.

THE END!!!!

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Sorry if I went into 1st person at the end.

This is the end of the story…….unless you guys want me to write more chapter.

Be sure to Read and Review, and watch for my new fics, about O-Ren Ishii.