"What the fuck are you doing, Bromy!?" Crown demanded from inside of the bathroom.

"I'm smoking." Bromy shrugged.

"YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEAN!" crown complained.

"He told me to keep you guys in there while he goes off so you don't try and stop him."

"As fucking if, what do you take me for, I'm not risking my ass for that dumbass!?" cried the shopkeeper who was dragged into this for no reason.

"Relax, I'll let you out in a bit." Bromy relented.

Meanwhile JohnWillStab drove forward, seeing a make-shift road-block stopping him from leaving the neighbourhood.

Through one trick or another, JohnWillStab was able to lose most of the vans, but at some point, the riot-gear people included motorcycles in their numbers.

The motorcycle sped towards JohnWillStab until they were right by the window, they reached for their pistol which hung from their hip and pointed it at JohnWillStab, he tried to ram into the bike but it was too late, the shot rang out as JohnWillStab went limp, his body smashing against the steering wheel, as the car spun out knocking the bike down to the ground.

The car crashed into somebody's garden, digging into a thick tree trunk, practically splitting the front of the car in two.

The bike person stood up, holding their left wrist with their right hand, clearly, they got hurt in the crash.

They made their way towards the smoking car in which JohnWillStab lay, the pitter-patter of rain suddenly masked the noises of the dying car.

They kicked the door open, seeing JohnWillStab fall out of the car limply, a patch of blood on his forehead.

The bike person reached into their pocket and pulled out a phone.

"Target zero, exterminated." said the person placing the phone away instantly.

Right then JohnWillStab jumped to his feet, smashing his head into the person's belly as he screamed "GUT HEAD-PUNCH!"

While the person was still in shock he turned to run but was immediately shot in the back.

This time he fell to the ground for real, bleeding out for real.

"Fuck, that hurts!" he cried out.

The bike person approached JohnWillStab again, throwing the gun aside in favour of a knife.

JohnWillStab wanted to crawl away, but his muscles felt numb.

As the knife person drew nearer the sound of footsteps could be heard, the biker-person looked back only to have a set of cutlery tossed their way, the fork stabbing through the plastic riot-mask and into their brain.

"John!" the thief called out, John could tell from the tone, if he wasn't completely numb, he should try and escape.

"You are a fucking dead man!" she exclaimed walking towards him.

"Accurate assessment," he noted.

"This is no time for your dark humour!" she complained kicking him.

She picked him up and placed him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes such that his head was behind her.

"Can't you go five-fucking minutes without worrying every person in your life, John!?"

"Put me down..." JohnWillStab asked weakly.

"Oh what movie-stunt is next on your list? Are you going to blow yourself up? Or tackle a machine gun? Oh, I know, get eaten by Dogzilla."

"Is this really the moment to worry about copyright? Just call it G*dzilla..."

"We'll look it up when we get you home, alright!?"

"Sure..."

"You never know, maybe it's public domain already!"

"Maybe..."

"Besides, if they sue us, it'd be like a shout-out!"

"An... expensive shout-out..." JohnWillStab let out a weak chuckle.

"All the more important we look up the copyright laws!"

"Thief..."

"What's up?!"

"Being covered in my blood suits you..."

"Alright, that's the weirdest compliment I got from you thus far, but let's work on that!"

"We'll do a daily complement-exchange! How about... you're great at driving a stolen van with your teeth!"

The surviving delinquents saw the thief rushing towards JohnWillStab's house, the rain washing their blood down, onto the ground where it mixed with the dirt to form a foul mud.

"They're alive!" called out one of the delinquents.

They rushed over to the thief who was still coming up with different "compliments".

"Hey, you two are alright!" called out another one of the delinquents, he was covered in blood, clutching his bloodied bat in the non-dominant hand as his dominant hand hung limp.

"Yeah! I'm taking JohnWillStab back home, the doctor guy can patch him up!" she exclaimed.

As she ran past them, the delinquents saw JonhWillStab's face was completely relaxed, his eyes stared into the distance coldy, as his mouth was slightly agape, fixed into a weak smile.

The thief continued the one-sided conversation until JohnWillStab was back home, and the thief made the discovery that he's been dead for a while now.

you have been bamboozled. JohnWillStab, was in fact - not alright.