07-10-2009, 09:57 PM
Brandon stormed out of the Castle, after grabbing his shotgun, to see the rainy night clearing into a damp and humid summer evening. He sniffed around his Cadillac for a bit, making sure no one planted any explosives on it. He did so out of habit, after his old car, the '68 Ford Galaxie he affectionately called "Big Blue" was destroyed by a rather crude proximity mine. Some stupid teen Furr triggered it while zooming by the parked car on his skateboard, taking the blast that was meant to take him out.
Brandon was reckless, violent, stupid, and ruthless, so he had a fair share of hits on his head. Many of them ended by liberal use of an industrial woodchipper to the heads of several rival gangs, but he didn't know about this latest one, or that it was so obscenely high.
He climbed into his car, started it up, and threw it in reverse. He chirped the tires as he sped out of the Castle walls, headed for the part of town he knew Marle frequented.
"...at this hour, she's probably at that diner she likes so much." He said to himself as he lit up another cigarette.
******
Diesel watched the group disperse, and turned to Stripes.
"That one is getting reckless, Boss." He stated, "you really should crack the whip on him. It's almost like he's testing how far you'll let him get away with things."
******
Sable pulled up her web browser on her phone, rifling through the e-mails she got from the lower-rung associates. As per Stripes' command, she made multiple vital contacts throughout the Furr-Dominated sector, from gang-bangers and thugs, to snitches and even Police Officers and FBI agents. What they knew, she knew. What Stripes didn't know, however, was that Sable often took under-the-table offers on hitjobs. Being a professional sniper had its quirks, but it also had a lot of benefits.
She came across an e-mail that made her jaw drop. Fifteen million dollars alive, five million dead. Her arch-rival from within the clan itself. If he was gone, they couldn't continue their little game, which she hated to admit, she thoroughly enjoyed.
"Boss. We have a problem. A very big one." Sable said, her voice full of concern as she handed her mobile device to her boss to show her. Whether it was mock concern or geniune, even she herself couldn't tell.
Brandon was reckless, violent, stupid, and ruthless, so he had a fair share of hits on his head. Many of them ended by liberal use of an industrial woodchipper to the heads of several rival gangs, but he didn't know about this latest one, or that it was so obscenely high.
He climbed into his car, started it up, and threw it in reverse. He chirped the tires as he sped out of the Castle walls, headed for the part of town he knew Marle frequented.
"...at this hour, she's probably at that diner she likes so much." He said to himself as he lit up another cigarette.
******
Diesel watched the group disperse, and turned to Stripes.
"That one is getting reckless, Boss." He stated, "you really should crack the whip on him. It's almost like he's testing how far you'll let him get away with things."
******
Sable pulled up her web browser on her phone, rifling through the e-mails she got from the lower-rung associates. As per Stripes' command, she made multiple vital contacts throughout the Furr-Dominated sector, from gang-bangers and thugs, to snitches and even Police Officers and FBI agents. What they knew, she knew. What Stripes didn't know, however, was that Sable often took under-the-table offers on hitjobs. Being a professional sniper had its quirks, but it also had a lot of benefits.
She came across an e-mail that made her jaw drop. Fifteen million dollars alive, five million dead. Her arch-rival from within the clan itself. If he was gone, they couldn't continue their little game, which she hated to admit, she thoroughly enjoyed.
"Boss. We have a problem. A very big one." Sable said, her voice full of concern as she handed her mobile device to her boss to show her. Whether it was mock concern or geniune, even she herself couldn't tell.
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
