The air inside Zeasy’s office was thick with tension, the distant sounds of sirens growing louder from outside. Glass shards littered the floor, remnants of the shops JJ had smashed just moments ago.

JJ stood close, his eyes wild and fists clenched around a battered baseball bat. Suddenly, he swung the bat toward you— "JJ" you shouted, shocked. "What the fuck"
“What the fuck?!” you shouted, stepping back, heart pounding.

JJ froze, the rage flickering in his eyes replaced by something almost like regret.
“I am sorry...” he stammered, voice rough.
“I am sorry—”
“I’m—”
“I am sorry—”

The wail of police sirens pressed in through the windows, and JJ lowered the bat slowly, breathing heavy.

You grabbed the bat from his hands, voice low and sharp.
“Give me this bat.”
“Fucking hopeless psychopath.”

Outside, voices shouted—your friends, the Pogues—Shoupe shouted again that he needed to come out.