Dallas couldn't think straight. Couldn't believe that the stupid, sweet little kid who cared about everyone else so damn much had just taken his last breath. Johnny was gone, and some part of Dally had gone with him. Knowing that Johnny was afraid was too much.

Dallas took to running. He couldn't stop. He just wanted the pain to stop. He wasn't thinking as he pulled out his fake .22 and used it to rob that damned grocery store. Before he knew it, he had cops on his tail, sirens wailing louder than the blood rushing through his ears.

He ran through the streets, just as angry as he had been as a teenager running the streets of New York. All he was thinking about was the fact that Johnny was gone. Hot tears pickled his eyes and he ran harder, faster.

But he was cornered. He raised his fake gun, preparing for the shots to come. But they never came. Instead, a body collided with his, knocking him to the street and covering him. "What the hell are you doing?!" He spat. He knew you. The goddamn Soc from the movies.