Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2021 14:13:51 GMT -5
α΅ΰΈ πα΄Οπβ
Radical Side Story
I'm actually glad he dropped the knife, it made beating him to death with the gun easier. I warned him when we walked in there. "You take what's yours, and we'll do the same." But he got greedy. Terry Libertin, a mad man who had it coming. His record was filled to the brim with violence and abuse. He stapled a cat to another kids head at 7. SEVEN. I'm not going to tell you which part of the cat was facing which part of his face. The Imagination doesn't have to be a happy place.
The surest thing to do then was to run. But- when had we ever done the surest thing? You don't get to be where we are by not disregarding risk... we risk it all every night we compete. Terry was a different story.
For weeks he called us and left an ascending amount of threatening messages. Problem being we hadn't listened to our land answering machine in 3 months. He didn't feel important, because he wasn't. Originally, he wanted the contract we decided to fulfill ourselves. The Bounty prize for the Skellies and Soulless. In a way he was our tune up. Chaos promised him 20k if he got us the ammo we wanted, because we felt bad about putting out a contract, then fulfilling it. He delivered to the drop, then was kidnapped and dropped off in a desert oasis outside of Mexico City. What? We figured he'd be too scared to come back. After some snaking, baking, and bribing high level officials in Mexico, he'd found us... holding the ammo while passing around a bottle at his expense.
"You motherfucker's are dead! Here, take my knife too! What else can I get for you, the shirt off my back?!"
Pedro had heard enough. After several Panda bites, he begged us to finish him off the old fashioned way. Maybe so he could cry, scream, and beg until the bitter end? Guess he didn't think it through.
"Guys, guys... please you're-
killing me...
guys... pl...
(gargle)"
Terry died a horrible death. It turns out he had a recording device in his jacket. We never checked. We were definitely annexed from Mexico forever if they could prove the charges... at the very least. We found out that when the cops got there, the device wasn't in the jacket. So where did it go in between? This smelled familiar. Like a dark scab that still hurts but isn't bleeding. I could only think of one person capable, and amused by the idea of fucking our plan at the finish line.
"V..."
I burned his childhood home down and pissed on the ashes. He ran a battering ram through my chest that I sacrificed being the Devil's Outsider to recover from. If V did take the tape before the cops got it back, who knows what they ended up with? This could be his moment to strike my Mexican freedom down. It was always going to end like this. Not in my capture! In him thinking he was smart, then taking a Radical blade to the gut. We knew you were coming. Pedro loves eating V's.
"Break him."
