>Another night, another deal.
>That's how it is on the weekends in the traphouse.
>Other nights it's out of a beat up 3 Series on a street corner.
>The usual rouges gallery was coming around...
>Junkies, shortsighted hedons (who were about to become junkies), degens, sexual deviants, niggers and wiggers...
>...and all other denizens of our fair empire were coming to you to blow their pitiful paycheques tonight.
>But tonight was going to be a little different, as you were being called to a more "respectable" area of town.
>That blue haired What's-her-name was performing this weekend, and all the college age kids were searching for some chick named Molly.
>You radioed up your boys...
"Pony up some nicer cars and dress nice, we're meeting the beautiful people".

>About an hour later, your crew was in the neighborhood.
>Your lookout, Wallflower, was making the rounds in the neighborhood in a dark blue Lexus 300h, no matter where she was she was always inconspicuous.
>The Bait, Discord, was going about in a white Cadillac Escalade, ready to steal the attention of the cops at a moments notice.
>Travelling with you riding shotgun was your muscle, Bulk Biceps, in case any of these 'Chads' and 'Brads' got cute.
>What you brought along was quite extraordinary, a black Maybach.
>Not just any Maybach, a 57s. Quite rare.
>Wasn't quite the crown jewel in your garage, if you can believe that.
>Big old Bulk was rather apprehensive on the drive here.
>"Anon, are you sure about this?"
"Please, these blue bots will think it's just an S-Class".
>"But what if..."
"Show me where I'm hiding my goods, go on, show me".
>He couldn't even find many of the storage compartments, let alone the contraband you had on-board (which included your wondernine).
"Exactly, ya fuckin' dummy".
>"Alright fine, but why we gotta listen to this shit anyways?"
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf4Bg-gEc5E
"It's my car and I'm in charge here, when we take yours next time we can put on your broshit".


>Finally, you arrived at the designated area the underboss assigned to you.
>Normally your Family wouldn't be allowed to operate in this area, but a deal was arranged.
>This was Russian Mafia territory, and personally, working with them made you feel uneasy.
>Whatever, beats spending the night in that slum.
>You found the place, parked in the underground garage, and waited for customers.
>Wasn't long before they came along, you had your work cut out for you tonight.

>Despite the upscale nature of the area, the quality of the clientele wasn't any different.
>Truth be told, seeing these wealthier versions of the inner-city scum you usually served was especially disgusting to you.
>It was very encouraging to see all of tomorrow's leaders buying your poison.
>As far as you were concerned, it was a sign of the times, a gilded age if you will.

>Some time later, as you were in the middle of sale with a couple of blokes, a very special guest arrived.
>The DJ herself.
>She came accompanied by some noisy pink haired bimbo, Ponky something, you didn't care enough to get her name.
"Well, if it isn't the star of the night, miss, uhhh...."
>"WAIT, you don't know who she is? She's only the bestest and greatest DJ that's ever scratched the turntables!"
"I'm not much into-"
>"She's Vinyl Scratch! Ayy Kayy Ayy, DJ PON-THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
>Hell of a promoter, Christ Almighty she was annoying.
"Lemme serve these lads, then I'll get to you".
>"Oh, hey Snips, hey Snails!"
>She knows these mungs, great.


>"Wass poppin' my boyyyyyyz!"
>Then they started talking about rap careers, and a whole lot of other shit that you didn't care about.
>You'll be honest, you were ready to take out the Hi-Power and either shoot them, or yourself.
>And you weren't the only one getting annoyed, Vinyl had places to be.
"Alright, this isn't a meet and greet, I got business to attend to, and I ain't the only one".
>And then you got a call from Wallflower.
>"Anon, there's a police cruiser in the area, I think they might be onto us".
"Did you call Discord yet?"
>"He's already on the job".
"Good shit, lemme know if anything else comes up".
>Then you got back to the deal at hand.
>They bought some MDMA, some cocaine, a tablet of amphetamines each, and some roofies.
"Alright, since you two are such good customers, I'll throw in some free funnybread".
>"Anon, you're cool, I hope you know that".
>"Yea, hehe".
"Compliment noted, now get out of here, I got shit to move".
>They made their way up and out, and were out of your hair.
"Choke on it, you fuckin' wiggers".
>Vinyl chuckled.
>You would've expected someone like her to be at least offput by a comment like that.
>While you were in the middle of that deal, you were unaware that Pinkie was playing with your hood ornament.
>She hadn't noticed that Bulk boi had gotten out, ready to give her the backhand of the millennium.
>But you gestured to him to cease.


>You got into the driver's seat, and activated the headlight washers.
>It sprayed the pink haired one and scared her off, like you were spraying your dog or cat after it did something undesirable.
>It was funny to watch, it had Vinyl giggling.
"Please don't touch my hood ornament, it's worth more than the remaining eggs in your basket".
>"Huh, eggs?"
>She didn't realize that you were referring, of course, to her dwindling fertility.
>She wasn't exactly old, but the wall comes quicker than you think, especially if you're a woman.
>Vinyl, meanwhile, understood immediately, and tried her best not to laugh at her promoter's expense.
>Again, something you wouldn't expect from a girl like her.
"Nevermind, you buying or not?"
>Turns out, she was buying you out, either to sell it herself at a profit, or to give it away at the rave, who knows.
>She handed you a hot wad of cash, and you shook hands, both her's and Vinyl's.
"Brilliant, makes my job a lot easier, lovely doing business with you."
>"C'mon Vinyl, we're going to be late to the PARTAAAAAAAYYYY!"
>Then she motioned her to stop in her tracks, and then she handed you a card.
>It was a special invitation to the rave.
>Anyone wanting to attend had to get one of these cards, on the back was the address to where it was happening.
>Obviously these underground events were, underground, so this is the only way you'd find out where it was.
>This card was special, however, as it had thermochromic ink, like a VIP pass or something.
>You looked back at her, and she raised an eyebrow at you.
"I don't know, it's not my cup of tea, but-"
>Then Wallflower called you again.
"What's going on?"
>"It's Discord, they arrested him".
"Goddamn it, fucking- I'll handle this, you can head home if you want, you've done your part. I'll have your pay ready tomorrow".
>Then you turned back to Vinyl.
"If this isn't too much of a ballache, I'll come around later. Thanks".
>"Can I come along too? It's been a while since I hit up a good rave".
>With noticably less enthusiasm, the flicked a card over to your associate.


>You left the building, ready to head off to the nearby police precinct to rescue your boy Discord.
>As you turned the corner, you saw Vinyl and Ponks driving the opposite way in what looked like a brand new Supra.
>Vinyl lifted her glasses, and winked at you...
>And you returned a subtle nod of the head.
>It wasn't as subtle as you thought, though.
>"You're eyeing her, but she doesn't seem like your type".
"I know, that's what's weird".
>"I can't see her dancing in your private wheat field".
"Shut your face, let's go bail Dickscord out".

>You parked a couple of blocks away, and walked to the police building.
>The Escalade was impounded nearby.
>"Did he actually have shit on him?"
"Stupid ass better not have, what would be the point of having him".
>When you arrived, they were still in the middle of an interrogation, and the cop in charge was pulling various substances out of a box.
>"That's salt... baby powder... dry shampoo... oregano... kitty litter... pain medication, I have a prescription for- Ah, there are my lawyers!"
"We're not attorneys, we're just friends. What the Hell did you do, Discord?"
>"Can you believe this, arresting a law abiding citizen such as myself, for what, possessing condiments, hygiene products, and medical necessities? I even put them all in clear bags
for them to see!"
"Hmm, yes, quite a mystery why they'd take you in. So what's the charge".
>"Apparently there is no charge, we're sorry to have inconvenienced you sir. We'll return your keys, write up a note for you to retrieve your vehicle from the impound, then you'll be
free to go".
>"Hmph, you're lucky I'm in such a good mood, or my lawyers would be all over this place!"
"Cut the shit, let's get you out of here".
>"If such a thing happens again-"
"Don't make me pull your ear out of here, let's go!"
>The cop then called back out to you.
>"Hey anon, by the way, the ambulance crews miss you, seems you were one of their best paramedics".
>You shrugged your shoulders.
"I'm surprised, I didn't feel the job was really for me".


>As soon as you were out of earshot, you apologized to Discord.
"Fuckin' Zogbots, sorry about all that back there. It was just for show".
>"As if there was anything you could say or do that could truly hurt me".
"Don't put me to the test".
>You brought Discord to the impound lot, thankfully they were still operating at this time.

>You and Bulk Biceps returned to the traphouse, sorted out the cash, took your cuts, hid the rest, then went your separate ways.
"Guess I'll be seeing you at that electric shindig later?"
>"You know it, see how quickly I can get laid this time".
"You're a meat-headed slut, you know that?"
>"Bitches want some of this bod, and I got a lot of bod to give".
>He finished that sentence with a flex of his bicep.
"Whatever, just don't cry to me when you catch an incurable strain of the clap".

>When you finished up, you were back on your way to your apartment.
>Just about any other time you'd be headed back to your cottage, but you didn't have time for that tonight.
>You had curiosity to fullfill.
>Either that or it was lust, truth be told you were having a hard time telling yourself you weren't thinking with your dick.
>On the way home, you put on some tunes.
>https://youtu.be/5dFs6MeieRI
>Evidently there was some electronic music you appreciated.
>The drive home made you think about why you loved Mercedes, particularly Maybach, so much.
>You hate to sound like the consumeroids you hated so much, but as far as automotive brands go, this had quite a pedigree.
>Its design expressed power, authority, order, permanence (unless it was American, lel), it's no wonder all the dictators of the 20th century loved them so much.
>Aside from your home (and by home, you mean your cottage, not your shitty, sterile apartment), being inside one of these vehicles, this one in particular, insulated you from the chaos and degeneracy of the outside world.


>You parked in your building's garage, went into your apartment, got changed into something more casual, then got going.
>Because you didn't trust the stupid asses at the rave, you brought your beat up Beemer.

>You found the address, some warehouse in an industrial district.
>Parking was a little difficult, since you wanted to avoid getting towed.
>A walk around the block later and you were at the front door.
>Judging by the bass vibrations and the bouncers outside, you were at the right place.
>Upon getting closer, you realized it was Gilda guarding the door.
"Gilda, long time no see".
>"I'll handle this one, got a ticket?"
"Great seeing you too".
>You presented the special card Vinyl handed to you.
>"VIP pass by the DJ herself? Lucky guy, she doesn't give a lot of these away".
"She seemed to like my brand of comedy".
>"Hey, even her biggest fans don't usually get this kind of treatment. Between you and me, I think she kinda hates them".
>Like clockwork, two more ravegoers came along, a couple of scantily clad sluts.
>Not just any sluts, it was Lyra and BonBon, regular customers of yours.
>"Hey Nonny! Where the fuck were you? People need their drugs tonight!"
"Don't worry, just go see the pink one, she bought it all".
>"Ohhh, she's usually pretty generous with it, good job getting it to her, that deserves a nice fuck..."
>Next thing you realized you were sandwiched between them.
"What the Hell, aren't you two married?"
>"A piece of paper can't keep us from sharing our love, what do you say?"
"I'm perfectly okay, thank you very much".
>"We'll see, have fun!"
>They kissed you on your cheeks, and pranced into the building. Then you turned back to Gilda.
"You know, I can't say I really blame her".


>"HA! You're still the same old homophobe Anon I served with. Normally I'd frisk you, but gats or not, I can trust ya".
"Much appreciated, you never know what these mongrels will try to pull".
>"Don't remind me".

>You made your way in, to get to the VIP balcony you had to power through the crowd of ravers.
>With no intentions on spending the night with this crowd, it was imperative that you made it up to that lounge.
>When you finally made it, you let out a sigh of relief.
>A quick stop at the bar and you got yourself a triple shot of Buffalo Trace bourbon, neat.
>It was going to be a long night.
>You found a table at the edge, where you could watch what was going on throughout the dance floor, you figured you were going to do some people-watching.
>https://youtu.be/yKy1tmA_TvM

>You were up there for a couple of hours, needless to say you were unimpressed with the goings on throughout the event.
>The set-up itself was pretty impressive, making a bare-bones warehouse into a nice party venue.
>The people that did this could probably make this into a nice wedding venue.
>However, it was what was happening on the dance floor that thoroughly disgusted you.
>You could swear that there were people fornicating down there, Slaneesh would be pleased.
>Up here in the VIP lounge wasn't much better.
>People up here were much more tame, but there were some pretty pathetic sights to behold.
>Such as one poser that was trying to woo some skanks with money he didn't really have.
>What do the kids call people like him nowadays, a "simp"?



>You didn't think you were going to enjoy this at all, but Vinyl was actually a pretty great musician.
>It made this experience, not good, but bearable.
>When she was done with her first bit, her buddy, Neon Lights, took over.
>He wasn't nearly as good as Vinyl, so it was back to mean-mugging the crowd.

>Some time later, you felt a small, delicate hand on your shoulder.
>It was Vinyl.
>Admittedly, she caught you by surprise.
"Ah, well if it isn't the star of the show".
>She pointed to the seat, as if asking to sit down with you.
"The Hell you asking me for? It's your event, sit where you want".
>With a warm smile, she parked her bottom on the seat right next to yours.
>You took out a Gurkha stoge from your coat pocket, a Cellar Reserve 15 year.
"You mind?"
>She nodded her head in approval.
>You lit up, blew a smoke ring, and looked back at the crowd.
>Before the silence could get awkward, you decided to break the ice.
"Judging by that slight scowl on your face, I can tell you're not too impressed with your fans..."
>She looked back to you, with a pleasantly surprised expression on her face.
"You wanna know why I'm here? In the underworld, dealing the poison that you're probably all too familiar with".
>She turned, her entire body facing your direction, she seemed genuinely curious.
"Hold that thought a moment, let me prep ya for a long story, what was that you were drinking, Vodka and Redbull?"
>Then you called out to the bartender.
"Hey bar boy! Get me and the Star here a couple a' drinks!"


>When you got served, you handed the bartender a 20.
"Alright, so I used to be what you might call a "good citizen", several years back..."
>Vinyl took off her glasses.
"I had served my country, when I left I used what I learned while in the service working in the medical field, I used to be a paramedic not too long ago..."
>She smiled and slowly nodded.
"Speaking of serving, I got disillusioned about what I was fighting for, Gilda and Bulk over there can vouch for me, they were there too.."
>Vinyl looked over, Bulk was with the candy and mint sluts, Gilda had come up, and was fondling some effeminate prick in fishnets.
>Seeing that, you were kinda wishing you hadn't pointed them out.
"I lost my best friend, Big Macintosh, we were both fighting in the MidEast. I watched him get cut down by weapons that we had made here".
>Her expression turned into that of concern.
"What really set me off was when I watched the fucking Israelis shoot down Rainbow Dash, and get away with it!
>Now Vinyl was shocked.
"They tried to blame it on the Russians. Why they fucking did it, maybe they were being extra sensitive about their airspace, maybe they wanted all-out war, either way, I know it was them, and I know it was deliberate..."
>Then she was intrigued, learning about USS Liberty 2.0 from someone who witnessed it first-hand.
"I got to her crash site, by some miracle I was able to save her, but she's crippled for life now. Pretty sure she'd rather be dead..."
>You heard an audible gasp from her.
>Just then, someone from her stage crew came.
>"DJ Pon-3, you're back up in 15".
>She gave him the thumbs up.


"Aight, you gotta get back to work, I'll make this quick".
>She turned back to you.
"It was shortly after that when I decided I was done serving the Imperial War Machine. But my cynicism hadn't set in yet, so I used my skills as a corpsman to become a paramedic..."
>Vinyl's deep red eyes lit up, and she nodded along.
"But, I have to tell ya, seeing what's happening here on the homefront, it was even more depressing that what I had gone through in the military... even considering my dead and broken friends..."
>She raised an eyebrow.
"Seeing the same patients day in and day out, for the same stupid shit, drug overdoses were the usual culprit. A lot of these weren't even out of despair, they were just being fucking degenerates..."
>She nodded in agreement.
"A lot of these folks were known welfare queens, often I found myself treating genuine mongrels who deserved to die. They got shot while under arrest and I had to keep them alive for sentencing..."
>Another nod in agreement, now she seemed somewhat miffed.
"Adding to that, we got treated like shit, and I got to watch the fucking nurses at the hospitals treat patients like shit. Fucking cunts, thinking they're too good to wipe cripple ass..."
>You shook your head, realizing you were about to rant.
"Anyways, it drove me to heavy drinking, and I almost, well, ended it all..."
>Vinyl continued to stare with concern and anticipation.
"Then one day, an idea came about in my head, like something snapped..."
>You sipped your whiskey.
"I figured since the society was so hellbent on dying, why don't I assist in that suicide, and get paid well for my trouble..."
>The electric haired girl raised her eyebrows in surprise again.


"I quit the ambulance crews, and the first place I decided where I was going to strike society was their wallets".
>"Vinyl, you're on in 5!"
>She looked back and nodded to them.
"I started working at the Casino, 'cause why not? That's also where I ended getting involved with The Family. I mean you know how it is with these gaming establishments, there's always Mafia involvement..."
>She shrugged and nodded in agreement.
"That's when they made me an offer I couldn't refu- Oh fuck, no they didn't hold a gun to my head and force me into this, I know that's what it's sounding like..."
>That had Vinyl giggling.
"Anyways, I got the opportunity of a lifetime, to start moving their substances. Of course, there was a lot of money involved".
>Again, she had to agree.
"Heh, you know, maybe I'm just justifying my being a scumbag with what I'm saying, but I really do believe in it..."
>Vinyl leaned on the table, intently listening.
"For me, being in this business, it's not just money, it's not just a hustle, this is my way of fighting the System. I'm not just a criminal, I'm not just a drug dealer, I'm a narco-terrorist. For me, this is a private war".
>You puffed on your cigar again.
"Some folks intend on shooting the System to death, me, I'm poisoning it".
>You took another deep drag of your stoge.
>"Based".


>You gasped mid-drag, and started coughing, and your stick fell on your chest and onto the ground.
>Hearing her say that genuinely took you off guard, like you were just sucker-punched.
"Ach! So you're not a mute, you do talk!"
>She shrugged her shoulders in an indifferent manner.
>"I'll speak when I need to".
"Also, Based? What does that mean, based on what?"
>"VINYL, YOU'RE ON! HURRY UP!"
"Nevermind, you better get your ass back to work".
>She raised a finger to you, telling you to wait.
>She ran to the bartender, got a pen and paper, scribbled something onto it, then handed it to you.
>"My private cell, text me".
"Will do, now quit stalling!"
>She smiled, winked, then ran off.
>As she ran off, you couldn't help but think to yourself...
>Strong, silent type.
"I like that in a woman".
>Maybe it was just your latent misogyny, but you appreciated a woman that knew how to shut the Hell up.
"Hehehe..."
>Now you had no plans on staying the whole night, but you were going to stick around to hear Vinyl play a little longer.
>Unfortunately for you, one of your customers decided to have a seat next to you.
>The scrawny man-creature was shivering, and babbling incoherently about something.
>You weren't even sure he was speaking English.
>He was most likely having a bad trip on something.
>Good for him.


>You mumbled under your breath.
"VIP my ass, they're letting any fuckin' mongrels up here".
>Whatever, as long as you didn't look him in the eye.
>Or in his general direction, for that matter...
>You continued to watch Vinyl at the turntables, how wonderful it was to see her having fun up on that stage.
>She genuinely loved what she did, what she made.
>The indecency before her didn't even matter to her, what mattered was her music.
>It was quite admirable.
>Well you would be able to admire it, if this fucking crackhead wasn't being a nuisance.
>"No... No!"
>He started yelling and twisting his head back and fourth like an autist.
>You don't know if he was having an extreme anxiety attack, but whatever was happening, you had to get him away from you.
>Taking out your phone, you sent a message out to Bulk, praying he would notice something was up.
[Hey, it's Anon, get your stupid ass over here and deal with this fuck!]
>Unfortunately he wasn't paying attention to his phone, he was to busy using Lyra and Bon as dumbells...
>While holding them by their damn crotches.
[Will you please hurry your ass up, mr Prez! I think this guy soiled himself]
>Then you called, then hung up, the ringing got his attention.
>He got the message, you knew he was on the way when the squealing of the sluts had finally subsided.
>But he was stopped by Gilda along the way, she took up the job.
>"I think he said the guy shit himself".
>Way to delegate your job to someone else, you bum!
>Then again, she was the bouncer, it was actually her job.


>With her magic thumb, she jammed it into the cheek of the tripping creep and put him to sleep.
"Oh my God, thank you!"
>"Anything for my old corpsman".
"You know something, you haven't changed either, you still know how to take a fucker down, and you still have a weird taste in... guys".
>You took a quick glance over to her lover for the night, and beheld the most effeminate twink you've ever laid your eyes on.
>Considering the times, it was quite the accomplishment.
>Was he just a cross-dresser, or was he on his way to becoming a troon?
>And then you noticed he had on a fluffy tail and cat ears, amazing.
>"Hey, you know I like being on top".
"Evidently".
>She raised her eyebrows, lewdly.
"You know what, I'm pretty tired, I think I'm gonna be going home soon, before I get jumped by another one of these junkies".
>"You ain't sticking around for some afterparty pussy?"
"No thanks, I have some respect for myself".
>"As much as a drug peddler like you could, right?"
>You rolled your eyes and shook your head.
>"Whatever, suit yourself, me, I'm getting a double dippin' of that!"
>Referring to the twink, of course.
>She then snapped her fingers, and another bouncer came.
>"Take this one out back, let him chill awhile".
>The large man obeyed.
>"Hey Anon, you know I'm busting your balls, right?"
"When are you not?"
>"You're a good man".
"As good as a drug peddler could be, right?"
>She shrugged her shoulders, and smirked.


>"By the way, think I could score some blow?"
"Didn't you hear me earlier? Ask the pink bitch, she'd probably give you crack if you asked for it".
>"Ugh, I hate dealing with her. She fucking annoys me! Ah well, thanks anyways".
"No worries, see ya around".
>"Have a good one, Anon! Oh, and you still see Rainbow, right? Tell her I said hi when you see her again!"
"Will do".
>She went back to molesting the 'femboy', or whatever the Hell he was.
>With morbid curiosity, you continued to observe.
>The sight was simply disturbing to you.
>You were never going to get used to this upheaval of norms, of the reverse- no, scrambling of gender roles.
"Ugh..."
>What were you thinking, "gender"?
>Something about that term rubbed you the wrong way, maybe it was because "gender" could be separated from biology (as someone explained to you before, anyways).
>As far as you were concerned, "sexual dynamics" was more like it, since that was solidly a biological concept.
>Or maybe you were already drunk.
>Good lord, it was way past midnight! Nothing good could happen at this time.
>Time to go home.
>Before you got up, Bulk Biceps approached you, and tried to high five you.
>"Oi Anon! Thanks for getting me an invite here, this was the tits!"
"Don't you dare touch me with those hands, I've seen where they've been!"
>"C'mon, I know you ain't gay, but why you gotta be a prude?"
"Because I value my health! Ugh, just listen here Big Guy, promise me you'll see Gizmo tomorrow to work on your burner phone".
>"Will do, boss!"
>You pat him on the shoulder, and went on your way.


>When you got out of the crowd, you took one more look back, just to watch Vinyl play a little longer.
>The sight of her, it was hard to explain, made you feel a certain way.
>It was a good feeling, to be sure.
>There was a certain purity about her, if that's the correct word you're looking for.
>Up on the balcony, when you looked DOWN upon her, it was a childlike purity, innocence?
>Okay, maybe not innocence, look where you were.
>But from down here, on the dance floor, looking UP at her...
>You saw a different type of purity, as if she were an angel.
>Up there, it was like she was presenting a Holy melody for us unworthy sinners to behold.
>As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were starting to have feelings for her.
>Real feelings.
>You continued to watch her, and as you did so, you felt all your other senses diminish.
>It was as if only the pure sight of Vinyl mattered to you in this moment.
>Good God, what kind of sap were you turning into?
>The good feels finally left when you heard Gilda yelling out to the crowd...
>"Make way, make way! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!"
>Next thing you knew, she shoved you aside, carrying two hoodlums by their collars.
>You decided to follow them out, it was time to leave anyways, and you were morbidly curious to see who's ass she was kicking.


>You stepped outside, and saw that it was those Snips and Snails shitheads mucking about on the ground.
"Hmm... Do I dare ask?"
>"These bitches spiked his drink and groped him".
"Who?"
>"My pussy for the night..."
>Of course they did.
>You shook your head in disgust.
"I better get outta here before I get sick".
>"Yeah, I know how you feel about this shit".
>Next thing you realized, the two perverts were getting frisky with each other, then they started kissing, then...
>"What the fuck are they-"
>They must have been so high out of their minds that they either had no idea what they were doing...
>Or they didn't care.
"AUGH! Alright, fuck this, I don't need to see any more".
>"See ya Anon! Remember, say hi to Dashie for me!"
"Yeah, sure!"
>Now you gotta run before you vomit.

>Before you started the car, you sent a message out to Vinyl.
[Hey there, it's Anon, texting you like you asked]
>You paused to think for a moment, then continued...
[This is my private number, I hope I can trust you]

>It was an hour drive before you got home.
>Along the way, there was a question that entered your mind, and you couldn't shake it.
"Scratch..."
>That name, it seemed familiar to you.
>Like someone you know, or know of, bears a last name like that.
>You couldn't put your finger on it.
>Whatever, you were going to sleep on it.

>Finally, you arrived at your sanctuary, your cottage.
>You parked outside, went in, and went right to bed.
>By the time you woke up, all the mongs at the rave would come down from their highs, and Suicide Sunday would be underway.
>For you, however, it would be a happy day, a day of healing.


>The first thing you did in the morning was get into a shirt and shorts, put on some running shoes, and went out for some exercise and fresh air.
>You stepped out of your cottage, and took a deep breath of fresh air.
>At first glance, it was rather strange that you called it a "cottage", it was more like a compound.
>That's what it looked like, anyways, especially seeing the architectural style of the house itself.
>Neoclassical, with a natural, rustic touch.
>But of course, it was riskier calling it a "Compound", so cottage it was.
>Taking a look upon the natural beauty of your property, you couldn't help but feel uplifted.
>It was your little bit of paradise, your escape from both the chaos and toxicity of the city, and the sanitized soullessness of the suburbs.
>It certainly wasn't modest, but it wasn't exactly extravagant either.
>But it was everything you could ever need, and everything you ever desired.
>Just about anyways.

>You hit the trail, the cool air of the surrounding forest kept you refreshed.
>Without any music, or any other electronic distractions (aside from your watch), nature kept you company.
>Along the way you took a rest, somewhere at the edge of a lake.
>You sat in the grass, and watched the rising of the morning sun.
>If you had the time, you could've sat there all morning.
>But you didn't have the time.
>You took the time to enjoy these gifts, but now it was time to give thanks...

>You ran back to the house, quickly checked on your gardens, showered and groomed yourself...
>And you got dressed nice, grey suit with pinstripes.
>A gift from your friend, Rarity.
>Unfortunately, you gained a little bit of weight, maybe it was time to have her work on it.


>Likely against your better judgement, you decided to don the matching fedora.
>You were in a throwback kind of mood today.
>Speaking of throwback, it was time to go into the garage.

>Coming down a flight of cold concrete steps, you arrive into your garage.
>You walk past your collection of motorized vehicles.
>They went as follows:
>1992 Mercedes-Benz 500 SEL, which you inherited from your father.
>Allegedly it was modified to imitate Kim Il-Sung's.
>1987 Audi Quattro S1
>2008 Volkswagen Phaeton
>1994 BMW R100 Motorcycle
>1970 Dodge Charger
>2015 Ford F-250 for work
>And finally, the vehicle you were bringing out today, the 1960 Desoto Adventurer.
>Of course, this wasn't the whole extent of your collection.
>You had the old 3 Series beater out front, and your Maybach in the apartment garage.
>It wasn't exactly a typical mobster's garage, which would've been filled with Lambos.
>Or G-Wagens, if you were Russian.
>But it was clear you had a great liking for German luxury and American classics (aside from your work truck).
>Speaking of German, there was still the crown jewel of your collection, you had a separate facility just for that.
>Despite it's rugged design, you only took it out for special occasions.
>A special occasion that would be coming sooner than you realized.
>Enough materialism, it was time to get going.

>You fired up the Desoto...
>...Then drove out of the garage, drove to the gate guarding your property, and then you were off...


>A half-hour later, you had found yourself in Church.
>Like you said earlier, it was a time for healing, and a time for giving thanks for all the great things you had in your life...
>But also, it was a time for you to beg forgiveness, an attempt to redeem your immortal soul.
>For men like you, unfortunately, there was no real chance for redemption.
>As much as you might try to justify your personal crusade, you were as degenerate as the rest of society, and you contributed to it.
>In the back of your mind, you know you belonged in Hell.

>After the service, you decided to talk to the few parishioners that still attended.
>Among them, Mr. and Mrs. Cake, and their two kids.
"How are you two doing on this fine morning?"
>"Well as always, and you, Anon?"
"I have no reason to complain".
>Meanwhile, little Pumpkin and Pound Cake were admiring your car.
>"Mom, Dad, he's got the Sam and Max car!"
>"Oh dear, be careful not to scratch it, it's very expensive to fix those!"
"Don't worry about it, anything they do would be peanuts for me..."
>You engaged in small-talk for a while, until they brought up an old friend of their's...
>"It's strange, I haven't seen Pinkie Pie in a while, the kids miss her..."
>If Mr. Cake was referring to Vinyl's promoter, you didn't have the heart to tell him what she's doing nowadays.
"Wish I could help you there".
>"Oh well, as always, it was good seeing you!"
"Likewise, I'll be seeing you around".
>The kids ran back to their parents, you pat them on their little heads on the way there.
>You got into your car, and watched as the Cakes loaded up into their SUV.
>Seeing this happy little family, you felt a deep pain in your heart, and nearly shed a tear.
>Most would envy your material wealth, but you would surrender all of it for that, a loving family.
>Perhaps this was the punishment the Lord imposed upon you.


>Now that you've had communion, you could go eat, you were starving.
>You went out to find some take-out in town.
>Upon parking, you received a message on your phone.
>It read as follows:
[Hello, is this the Freelance Police?]
>This was confusing the Hell out of you.
"What the-"
>Then you panicked, was someone on to you?
>But you calmed down when you saw who it was from.
>You took a quick look around, and saw it was Vinyl across the street...
>...Dressed rather peculiarly.
>She was in a long, white, modest dress.
>A light blue blouse.
>And a dark purple headscarf.
>And of course, her signature sunglasses.
>You got out to go greet her.
"Ah, well if isn't the little DJ, this is a pleasant surprise".
>She put out a gloved, delicate little hand for you to shake.
"I gotta say, you look lovely today, this attire suits you".
>She shrunk back, and blushed.
>Absolutely adorable.
"You look fresh out of Church".
>She nodded.
"I didn't take you for the God-fearing type, what sect are you with?"
>"Orthodox."
>Interesting, but there was a compatibility issue for you.
>You were Catholic.
"Hey, I'm off to grab some breakfa-"
>You looked at your watch.
"Lunch at this point, care to join me?"
>She nodded.


>The two of you hopped into the Desoto and went on your way.
>Vinyl directed you to a café over in the East European district.
>You were starting to feel uneasy, as this was Russian Mafia territory (obviously).
>The relationship between The Family and the Konskiye Bratva was pretty strained, even at the best of times.
"So I take it that on top of following the Eastern Orthodox faith, I take it that you are also..."
>"Russian, yeah".
"Are you sure it's a good idea bringing me around here, I mean, you do know who I'm affiliated with, right?"
>"Don't worry, we're pretty civil here".
"Obviously, but-"
>"But nothin', you're alright as long as you're with me".
>You were hoping she was right.

>You went in, and Vinyl was greeted by the manager.
>"Винил! Как дела мой друг?"
>As they conversed, you quickly surveyed the room to make sure there were no guns pointed at you.
>Then again, you weren't completely out of place, half your lineage was from Eastern Europe.
>But they probably wouldn't want to hear that you were a Polish-Italian mutt.
>No one seemed to be paying you any mind, except for one old man sitting at the end of the bar.
>He didn't seem to have any ill will towards you, but he was watching you.
>"Hey, let's go take a seat".
"Alright..."

>You got seated by the window and set your hat down on the seat next to you, and soon you were set up with a samovar, snacking on blins and sipping black tea.
>Then you got to talking.


"How does a decent girl like you get tied up in all this shit? I get that you're a musician, and you make music that attracts a certain crowd, but how do you deal with that?"
>"Meh, at this point, I just take it as an occupational hazard".
"I guess, well, what can you do?"
>She took another sip of her tea, then continued".
>"I just like what I do... That, and my family's involvement in all this..."
>You paused for a moment.
"You mean your family is in the business?"
>"My family IS the business".
>That got you to raise an eyebrow.
>The syndicate you were with may have called theirselves "The Family", but theirs literally was a family.
>That also reminded you:
>Scratch...
"Are you related in any way to... erm, Vadim Scratachev?
>"He's my dad".
>You couldn't help but flinch.
>What is it they say? Blyat!
"You mean your dad is the Boss of... well?"
>Obviously you didn't want to mention the mob out loud.
>And she answered your question with a nod.
>You were in complete disbelief.
"Are you crazy, bringing me here? What would he think of one of his fucking rivals with his daughter?"
>"You're a trustworthy guy, no?"
>But did they know that?
>You looked back over to the man at the bar.
"I guess, maybe that's why that gentleman over that hasn't put a bullet in me".
>She looked over, and gasped.
>"Папа!"


>Oh dear God.
>It was the Big Boss himself.
>As he approached, you instinctively stood up, you were to show this man some respect.
>The first thing he did was hug and kiss his dear daughter.
>You couldn't understand what they were saying at the time, but it had gone as follows:
>"Oh Papa! How rude of me. I'm so sorry we didn't greet you when we came!"
>"Xaxa! My dearest Vinyl! I can't possibly fault you, as you are busy with an esteemed guest..."
>Then he turned to you.
>It took every fibre of your being to hide the fact that you were afraid.
>He put out his hand, and next thing you knew, you were shaking hands with one of the country's most dangerous men.
>This meeting was going well so far, he wasn't trying to scoop your heart out with a spoon.
>"And who might you be, good sir? I hope you have come here as a friend".
>If you were being honest with yourself, you would rather be facing down Superman, at least he had a sense of mercy.
"I most certainly have Mr. Scratachev, I am honored to meet you".
>"So you know who I am?"
>Absolutely, and you did not want to piss him off.
"You've made quite a name for yourself, many envy you".
>And fear him.
>"My daughter has taken quite a liking to you. She doesn't bring a lot of her friends around to any of my businesses".
>Oh gee, why might that be?
>"That's because she knows I am a discriminating person, I try to only keep quality people in my life, and you seem to be a man of high quality".
>As much as you appreciated the compliment, it didn't make the situation any less tense.
>"I'll leave you be now, please enjoy your meal".
"Thank you, Mr. Scratachev".
>"No need for formalities, just call me Vadim".
"Very well, thank you, Vadim".
>He gave Vinyl a hug, then went back to his place at the bar.


>As he left the two of you, you let out a small sigh of relief.
>"Anon, are you okay?"
>You literally shook hands with the Devil himself, what would she think?
"Don't worry about me, I'll be okay".
>"You sure? You seem uneasy".
"I'm fine".

>Soon you were back to sipping tea, and shooting the shit.
>At one point, a couple of Hassidic Jews passed by the window.
>You noticed her glaring maliciously at them.
>You couldn't help but chuckle.
>Vinyl looked at you, head tilted, confused, as if you had suddenly sprouted a dick from your head.
"I know exactly how you feel, I was once mired in antisemitism myself. I mean, how could I not be? You remember what I told you, right?"
>She nodded.
"But after that emotional phase passed, I realized that even if it was possible, it wouldn't make any sense to go about butchering every Kike we see, right?"
>"Hmm..."
"Ask yourself, how did this small tribe of semi-nomadic gypsies come to rule over us?"
>She raised an eyebrow.
"Because we let them".
>The blue-haired girl was visibly surprised.
"We wanted easy money, they gave us easy money. We wanted whores, they gave us whores. We wanted to rule the world, they were all just too happy to help".
>That had her thinking.
"Some Romanian lad said it best, 'a society has the Jews it deserves, like mosquitoes breeding in a swamp, the Jews will only prosper in the swamp of our sins'..."
>She froze.
>"I think you just blew my fucking mind".


>You took another sip of tea, and chuckled to yourself.
"You know, all this talk about Yids, it reminds me of someone..."
>"Huh?"
"I knew this kid, Gallus, he was a good kid, came from a good family, did well in school. But then I saw him coming around to the casino..."
>Her head was resting in her hands, listening intently.
"He ended up becoming a degenerate gambler, hustling shit out of his pawn shop to keep his loan sharks paid, he also fell into drug use on top of that. It all led him to an early grave".
>She raised her eyebrows, she was somewhat amused.
"Honestly, it haunts me. Out of all my victims, I feel bad about him".
>You sip your tea again.
"It had me thinking, about the absurd amount of irony of it all..."
>"Hmm?"
"You're probably more aware than a lot of people, that most of the people behind our current cultural zeitgeist are of The Tribe, right?"
>"Mmm hmm".
"Well, they're actually the ones least equipped to survive in the culture that they played a key role in developing".
>Vinyl whispered.
>"What?"
"I got to watch first-hand, almost a play-by-play, of that kid being consumed by modernity, and ultimately be undone by it. Poor guy stood no chance in this world".
>She was taken aback.
"Hehe, I feel bad for joking about this, but when his loan shark did him in, well, he turned him into an actual "Gallus". Hehehe..."
>Vinyl was confused, she wasn't getting the joke.
"What, you don't know your ancient and classical history? The Cult of Cybele, and the Galli?"
>She drew a blank.


"Oh Lord, well, we're done eating, I guess I can tell you about it.
>Vinyl gulped.
>You got to explaining when they existed, what they meant to Roman society, and then you got into the nitty-gritty of their "ceremonies".
"Well, what the priests of this cult did was that they got castrated on what was called the "Dies Sanguinis", taking away everything between their legs..."
>She was visibly horrified.
"And they did this shit with broken fucking pottery shards".
>She covered her hands to stifle a gasp.
>Meanwhile, her dad was listening in, and was laughing his ass off.
>Of course the sadistic bastard would.
>"Ugh... That actually happened to him?"
"Unfortunately".
>"You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?"
"Aside from working for the casino that was fucking him out of money, no".
>You finished off your tea, then got up.
"This was fun, but now I've got important business to attend to. Hope we meet again soon".
>She put her hand out, and you took hold.
"May I?"
>"Please".
>You brought it to your face, then kissed it.
>Looking back at her, she was blushing again, and trying to hide it.
>Such a sweet girl.
>Just as you were about to depart, Vadim grabbed you by the shoulder, he wanted to have a word with you.


>"I hate to be stalling you, but if you don't mind..."
>You may not have worked for this man, but you were going to do as he said anyways.
"I have things to do, but they can wait".
>"Perfect! Just have a seat with me for a moment..."
>He didn't have any intent on killing you, or he'd have done it already.
>He ordered a couple of drinks for the two of you, then got to talking.
>"Had you been anyone else from the little posse you call 'The Family', I'dve had your stupid ass kicked out of here..."
>You gulped.
>"But you are a man of quality, I am happy to see that my daughter shares my standards".
"Again, Vadim, it is an honor".
>You clinked your glasses of kvass, then drank.
>"But still..."
>He put his hand on your shoulder.
>"You are not to cross me, and you are not to hurt my daughter, I hope we are clear".
"Considering your reputation, I would never dream of it".
>Never in your worst nightmares.
>"Very good! Now listen, I'd love for the hostilities to come to an end between our organizations..."
"But sir, I am not-"
>"Sir?"
"Erm- Vadim, I don't have the authority to-"
>"Small steps, you'll be our middleman. Now, I'd love to invite you to my estate, at my daughter's request".
>She already wants you to meet her family? This relationship was moving a little too fast for your liking.
>At this rate, you'll be married by the end of the month.
>And you weren't too sure about having a brute like Vadim as an in-law.


>Vadim didn't seem like the kind of guy to take 'no' for an answer, so you accepted.
"I'd be happy to accept the invitation".
>"Good! My daughter will fill you in on the details".
>You finished your drinks, and soon you were off.

>Soon you were back on the road, happy to be out of reach of Vinyl's dad.
>Along the way, Bulk Biceps passed by you on the opposite side of the road going southbound in his Hummer.
>If only that man knew how ridiculous he looked in that thing.
>Anyways, it was a good sign that he went to go see Gizmo to have his burner phone looked at.

>Not too long after, you made it to Gizmo's place.
>It was a nice little condo, it had great privacy and it was soundproofed well.
>Perfect for what he does.
>As far as anyone else in the building was concerned, he was just a nerdy IT guy.
>You buzzed his number in the lobby, and were greeted by a robotic, feminine voice.
>It felt like a glorified automated phone system.
[PLEASE STATE YOUR CALLSIGN]
"Faceless".
>A few seconds later, the computer responded.
[CALLSIGN RECOGNIZED, PLEASE PROCEED]
>Did Gizmo really have to do this?
>Well, yes, sort of.
>Opsec was everything in your line of work.


>You quietly made your way up to Gizmo's domicile, and knocked on his door.
>Thumping could be heard coming towards you.
>When he made it to the door, it creaked open.
>"Anon?"
"The one and only. May I come in, or do I just-"
>He slammed it closed, undid all the locks, then opened it up again for you.
>You're surprised he didn't develop some sort of high-tech solution for this.
>"Come on in, the Big Boss is welcome anytime!"
>You weren't exactly, "Big Boss", you were just a capo, but it was flattering nonetheless.
>Through the small hallway, you passed his underutilized kitchen, his bedroom filled with fairly typical nerd shite...
>Which included a bodypillow of some hypersexualized Jap cartoon character.
>And finally, to his work room, where his computer, a half-eaten box of pizza, and several empty energy drink cans were.
>"Hand me your phone, please".
>You did as he asked, and he worked his magic.
>You didn't pay much attention to what he was doing, even if you were, you weren't computer literate enough to understand.
>Not too long after, you received your phone back.
"Thanks Gizmo".
>"No problem, you and your friend are welcome anytime!"
"My friend?"
>Did Vinyl follow you?
>Were you followed by a fed?
>You almost panicked, but then you realized...
"Gizmo, do me a favor and look at me for a second..."
>Sure enough, his pupils were as dilated as a tranny's science pussy.
>God, what an image.
"Have you been using amphetamines?"


>"Well uhh, yeah, I've had a lot of work to do the past couple of days".
"How many days?"
>"Three now, maybe?"
>You just about shat a brick.
"Listen to me, Gizmo, you are going to get off that shit, at least for a couple of weeks, and you are going to get some proper bed rest".
>"But Anon, the Family needs-"
"I don't give a dying nigger's last breath what they need! Don't ever let them overwork you like this again".
>"But, what if they-"
"If they have anything to say, they can say it directly to me. We can't afford to lose you, buddy".
>You pat him on the shoulder, then threw a few c-notes on his desk.
"Please do what I ask, for your sake. I don't want to hear that you dropped dead".
>"O-oh, okay..."
>After a slight nod, you were out, and back on the road.
>It's been a long day, time to go home and rest up for your day job at the casino.


>On the drive back, you thought about the shit you gave to Gizmo about his using "productivity enhancing" drugs.
>You knew better than anyone how dangerous the game he was playing with his life was.
>It also reminded you of another one of your victims:
>A miss Twilight Sparkle.
>Just like Gallus, the guilt over her death weighed heavily on you.
>She was a scientist, her last contract was with the government.
>You still tried to justify it to yourself, how indirectly killing her was a net benefit:
>Maybe she was working on a horrific WMD, maybe she was working on some sort of advanced troon-making technique for the government's social engineering project, something...
>But deep down, you knew she was a good soul, that she believed in her work, and wouldn't focus her efforts on anything unethical.
>The image of a deceased, overworked Twilight slumped over her desk still haunted you.
>You didn't want that for Gizmo.


>You made it back to your personal Garden of Eden, tended to your plants, then retired for the evening.
>Just as you plopped your ass into bed, you got a notification on your personal phone.
>It was Vinyl.
[Hey Anon! You're still in the gaming business, right?]
>If by gaming she means 'land based gambling', then yes.
[The casino? Yeah, it's my day job.]
[Mind if I pay you a visit?]
>This was interesting.
>You gave her the address to the Alicorn Palace, and the times where you were on break.
[Thanks! See you tomorrow!]
>You would be a liar if you said you weren't excited to have an opportunity to see her again.
>Finally, you could sleep.
>You were hoping to pay Rainbow Dash a visit today, but things happened...
>But you would just have to visit her tomorrow, it's not like she was going anywhere.

>The next morning, you got yourself ready for work.
>After grooming and suiting up, you took the old S-Class out.

>When you got to the Alicorn Palace, you were greeted by the valet.
>"Good Morning Mr. Anonymous! How are you this morning?"
"Excellent, as always."
>You slipped him a 20, got out of your car, then went on your way.

>It was a regular work day, reviewing security camera footage, going through formal complaints, and settling disputes among players.
>Boring and irritating as usual, until a familiar someone surprised you.
>"Hey hey, Anon! I'm guessing you're my boss again".
>Oh Lord.
"Gilda?"


>Just what you needed.
"Since when did you work here?"
>"Security team signed me on this weekend, pretty much immediately after the rave".
>Since when did hiring happen that fast?
>Whatever, it was almost time for your lunch break anyways.
"Stay out of trouble, you".

>You strolled over to the restaurant bar and ordered a burger and fries.
>As your order arrived and you were about to dig in, you noticed Vinyl seated next to you sipping a glass of wine.
"AHH! How long were you there?"
>"Long enough, care for a drink?"
"I'm on the clock, I'm not allowed to drink".
>"Ah, I gotcha..."
>You sat down and chatted for a while.
>Then the topic of her invitation to her family's place came up.
>"Can't wait to have you over for dinner".
"When is that, anyways? Now that you mention it, where is that?"
>She slipped you a piece of paper.
>"That's only for you to know".
"Read you loud and clear".
>"By the way, you're a car guy, right? You're gonna love what's in my dad's garage!"
"Provided I'm allowed in there, I can't wait".
>"Trust me, as long as you're not with the IRS, he's proud to show off his collection".


>You sat and chatted for a little while longer.
>She asked you questions about your official line of work, and you answered them.
>"What's the quality of the poker games here?"
"Best in the world, so I've observed. I wouldn't know for sure since I don't play".
>"What if I-"
"No".
>You took a sip of water, then explained to her.
"If you developed a gambling addiction, I don't think I'd be able to live with myself..."
>She continued to look at you with those big red eyes.
"I watch these people, day in, and day out, they look and behave little different than junkies, wouldn't you agree?"
>"Mmm hmm, yea, I see what you're saying..."
"Some of these folks are at those tables and slot machines for days on end".
>She looked at you with surprise.
"Yea, I'm serious".
>She chuckled.
>"You think they're doing some of the, ehhh..."
>Snort, snort, she went.
"I won't confirm or deny that".
>"Hehe".
>Not too long after, she took her leave.
>"Again Anon, can't wait".
"Same".
>She gently pulled you closer and kissed you, a peck on the cheek.
>You gasped, and blushed.
>She smiled, gave a little wave goodbye, and she went on her way.
>Shortly after, Gilda nudged you in you in your shoulder, catching you completely off guard.
>"Oooohhhhh, somebody's got a crush!"
>Who the Hell has "crushes" at your age?
"Ahh, get back to work!"
>"Sure thing, chief!"
>And then she pinched you in the cheek.
"You do that again, I'm writing you up for-"
>"Sexual harassment? C'mon, don't be a complete prude".
"Professionalism, Gilda, this ain't that electric fuckfest!"


>Before you got back to work, you went to use the bathroom.
>You went into the customer's restroom, even though you weren't really supposed to be using them.
>As you found a stall, after placing your tp on the seat, after dropping your pants, after sitting your ass on it...
>You saw it, on top of the shit-ticket dispenser.
>A white powder that you've been well acquainted with.
"Fucking Christ, these people..."
>The absolute nature of this line of work.
"What a scummy fucking industry..."
>And you were a part of it.

>The end of the day came and went.
>As you went to retrieve your car, you saw the blaring lights of a cop car in the parking lot.
>Did they finally find you out?
>Hardly, a couple of mongrels just started kicking the shite out of each other.
>If there weren't sirens, and there was an ambulance, that would mean someone had commit suicide.
>Something like that, it happens so often it doesn't even get reported anymore.
>Like you said before, scummy fucking industry.
>This is one of those jobs that many people would envy you for having...
>The nice suits, the cushy work, the great pay, the whole prestigious feel of it all...
>But getting into it, it was simply depressing how degenerate it all was.
>If you weren't in the middle of a private war, if you were in a decent community...
>You'd be happy to do an honest days work, even for little pay.


>Now it was time to visit Rainbow Dash.
>But before you could get going, you got a call from... Wallflower Blush?
"Ahh Fuck... Hello Wallflower, did I forget your pay again?"
>"Well, yes, but that's not what this is about..."
"Huh?"
>"The Boss is calling for a sit down, I can't go into the details here, though".
>Great.
"Thanks for the heads up, also, we can meet up today so I can pay you".
>"Thanks Anon".
"Also, when is this?"
>"We'll discuss it when we meet".
"Gotcha".

>About an hour later, you were back at the traphouse.
"Here's your money, now what's up?"
>She handed you a piece of paper.
>Great, another one of these.
"Thanks, and again, I'm sorry I forgot your pay".
>"You're just lucky this isn't taxed".
"Tell me about it".

>Finally, you could pay Rainbow a visit.

>It didn't take long for you to reach her suburb.
>Actually, it wasn't too far away from where you met Vinyl.
>You arrived at her house, it stood out from the rest since it had accessibility ramps.
>Before going in, you braced yourself for heartache.
>Seeing what a star athlete, and proud pilot like her was reduced to...
>Well, it was a lot for you to bear.


>You knocked, and her husband Soarin answered.
>"Anon?"
"Hey Soarin, is Rainbow in? I'd like to-"
>Rainbow then called to you from their living room.
>"Is that Anon? Let him in, Soar!"
>Almost reluctantly, Soarin let you in, then you made your way to the living room.
>As usual, Rainbow was happy to see you.
>Her cheery disposition kept your spirits up.
>Seeing her broken like this almost made you want to cry, you never really got used to it.
"Rainbow! How you doing?"
>"Anon! Well, you know how it is, not doing nearly as much as I used to".
"Yea, I can... see that..."
>"But hey, at least I've had plenty of time to work on my book! Which is coming along nicely, by the way".
"Fuck me, how's that coming along?"
>She had actually got into fiction writing some time ago, with a couple of books completed, yet to be published.
>But now she was working on her autobiography, documenting her experiences as a fighter pilot.
"Are you going to mention who shot you down?"
>"Yeah, I will".
"You sure that's a good idea? That's going to be hard to publish".
>"C'mon, I'm sure they'll understand I was in their airspace".
>Anyone that was there would know that's a load of shite.
"I don't know, but it's your book, so it's your call".
>"I don't think I'll have too many problems, it's not like I let that incident turn me into a Nazi or something".
>Poor girl, she was far too forgiving...
>"Enough about my shit, what've you been doing?"


"Well... Not a whole lot, just been busy with work at the casino".
>"You're not a paramedic anymore?"
"Nah, that shit wasn't for me..."
>"Not for you? You've saved so many lives!"
>Yeah, the scum of the Goddamn Earth.
"I don't know, it was just, depressing..."
>Rainbow decided to change the subject.
>"You can't be just working all the time though, you got a life? Seeing anyone?"
"What do you mean?"
>"You know, girlfriends!"
>What is she, your mum?
"Actually, I just started seeing someone".
>She gasped.
>"Ooohhhhh, who's the lucky chick? You find someone trad enough to dance in your wheatfield? Who is it?"
>Again with the fucking wheatfield!
"She's rather well-known actually, you've probably heard of her..."
>Rainbow was giddy with anticipation.
"Her name's Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch".
>Rainbow's jaw dropped, and her eyes went as wide as exit wounds.
>She was in complete disbelief.
>"You mean DJ Pon-3? You're actually dating her?"
"I wouldn't call it dating, so far we've only had lunch a couple of times..."
>"That's dating, ya dingus! Anyways, how'd ya end up with her?"
>She wasn't exactly the first famous person you met, but that's not what she was referring to.
>"Isn't she kinda, you know, out there for you? I can't really see you two hitting it off".


"She's actually very respectable, if that's what you mean".
>"What, is she actually good enough for the wheat-"
"I swear to God, you mention wheatfields again, you're losing function of your arms!"
>"Jeez, I'm just teasing you".
>Now why the fuck would you snap at her like that, you cunt!
"I'm sorry, it's just an old fucking joke..."

>Not too long later, you took your leave.
"As always, Rainbow, this was nice. Sorry I came empty-handed this time around".
>"I'm always happy to see you anyways".
>You gave her a good, tight hug.
>"I can't thank you enough for saving me".
>Now that gave you a good old tug on the heartstrings.
>You let her go, ready to get going.
>But Rainbow caught you before you could leave.
>"Hey Anon, you remember Scootaloo, right?"
"Isn't that the 'sister' you took on?"
>"That's the one, I haven't seen her in a while, I hope she's doing good".
"She's a star athlete, just like her 'big sis', I'm sure she's just fine".
>"Hopefully, well, see ya, Anon!"
"Oh, and Gilda says hi by the way..."
>"Gilda? I haven't heard from her in so long! Tell her to pay me a visit sometime".
"Will do, Rainbow".

>Soarin saw you out.
>You shook hands, then made your way to your car.
>Just before you opened the door, another familiar face stopped you in your tracks.
>It was Spitfire, seemed she was here to pay Rainbow a visit as well.
>You nodded to her, then got into your car.
>Before you could turn the key in the ignition, she knocked on your window.


>You lowered your window to talk to her.
"Spitfire..."
>"Anon..."
>She glared at you, looking you in the eye with pure hatred.
"Anything you need to say, say it quick, I want to go home".
>"I'm only tolerating you being here since you saved Rainbow's life, aside from that, you're a fucking monster..."
>Your expression remained unchanged.
>"I know what you do, and if they knew what you did to afford all those nice cars, they'd want nothing to do with you".
>Come to think of it, Soarin seemed to be getting suspicious of you.
>"Go on, destroy more lives with the poison you sell, may God and the Feds have mercy on you when you finally get caught..."
>Finally, she walked away, and into Rainbow's house.
>Your face didn't move a muscle, the things she said, you were well aware of.
"I beg His Holiness every day for His forgiveness..."
>But for all of His children that you had sacrificed to the Devil, you didn't expect any.

>You got home, first place you went was into your garden.
>The wheat was coming along nicely, you were going to get tons of bread this time around.
>You also had some ripe tomatoes, you picked some and made yourself a sandwich with them for supper.
>Then it was off to bed.
>Before you went to sleep, you reviewed the notes Vinyl and Wallflower gave to you.
>Each of these events were a day apart, and the visit to Vinyl's family estate came first.
>You also had suspicions about the Boss of the Family meeting with the Capos, is the Bratva going to be involved at all?
>If that was the case, your behavior at Vadim's domicile was going to have a pretty big impact.


>You had about a week before you had your outings with Vinyl and The Family.
>As you went about your week, you made preparations.
>After work one day, you decided to pay Rarity a visit.
>You were in the market for a new suit.

>The afternoon finally came.
>You arrived into the boutique, and the bell over the door rang.
>"In a minute dear!"
"Don't worry Rarity, I've got time".
>"Anon!"
>Next thing you realized, she was rushing to meet you at the counter".
>"Anon, dearest!"
"I did say I have time".
>Rarity chuckled.
>"Oh Anon, darling, for such a good friend-"
"And good customer you're willing to drop everything? Come on now, you know I don't like having my ass kissed".
>On top of that, she seemed a little bit unkempt, like the stress of fulfilling a large order was getting to her.
"Are you okay? You seem a bit-"
>She gasped, then quickly straightened herself out, almost as if she knew you were about to mention how stressed she looked.
>"Oh, do not worry about me, I am making out rather handsomely!"
"A lot of orders?"
>"Absolutely, but the downside of getting all this business is there are so many orders!"
>Maybe you didn't need a new suit after all...
"Damn, I was going to put in an order myself to get ready for a date, but seeing that you're so busy..."
>She gasped.
>"Nonsense! I shall not let a friend go about courting a lady without the proper attire!"
>Oh dear God, here she goes.


>"Now come along, let us take your measurements".
"I don't suspect you'd keep those recorded, but you'll probably notice that I've gained some weight".
>"Haha! You still look marvelous, darling".
"Please don't try to flatter me, again, don't kiss my ass".
>She went about taking your measurements.
>You'll be honest, you sort of did enjoy her delicate little hands working their way throughout your body.
>As she worked, she made small talk with you.
>"Well, Anon, who is the lucky lady? This is the first I've ever heard of you reaching out for a lover! For the longest time you didn't seem to be looking for romance."
"I wasn't searching, not actively anyways. I also have some, admittedly, unrealistic standards".
>"So who's the fair maiden who met your criteria?"
>Of course, she was shocked when you told her.
>"Vinyl Scratch, the DJ?"
"Yep, that's her".
>"I thought she might be a bit... erm... rambunctious for your tastes".
"That's what I thought too..."
>"Truth be told, I always saw you with my friend Applejack".
>Truth be told, you actually saw yourself with her, but she had her sights set on someone else.
>Also, you didn't like the idea of getting shacked up with your best friend's sister. Especially after he died.
>Adding to that, you didn't want her involved in your shit in any way.
>The way she lived was completely wholesome, and you didn't want to fuck with that.


>When she was done with the measuring tape, she prepared to bring you into her room of fabrics.
>However, you found something off-the-rack that caught your eye.
>A dark grey, English-style suit.
>Not something you had a lot of in your wardrobe.
>It looked like it was delivered direct from Savile Row.
"Hold on a moment".
>You took a closer look at it.
"I'll take it!"
>"Are you sure? I could easily make you-"
"You are busy enough as it is, besides, the styling on this is perfect!"
>Now that you had a suit, you'd like to get a new shirt for it.
>You decided on French cuffs.
>"Marvelous, would you like a new set of cuff-links to go with it?
"Let's see what you've got".
>You browsed the drawer full of them, all of them nice, but none in particular caught your attention.
>Except for one pair.
>A set of Russian themed cuff-links, plated in gold.
>One was a Hammer and Sickle.
>One was an Imperial Eagle.
>You were guessing one was for your right cuff, and the other for your left.
>God himself was helping you prepare for this date, it seemed.


>Following the fashionista back to the counter, you took out your wallet, ready to pay in full.
>"Oh dearest, put that back! I shall only accept the payment once the work is done. I will have it ready for tomorrow".
"Well, alright, I really do appreciate what you're doing for me".
>"Please, I'm more than happy to serve a friend!"
>Considering what she's going through now, you were going to tip her handsomely for this work.

>After that, it was time to pick up some premium booze.
>You didn't want to show up to dinner with Vinyl and Vadim empty-handed like a prized cunt.
>And considering that Vadim was likely a man with very expensive taste, you picked three beverages that you didn't think you could go wrong with.
>Dom Pérignon, vintage: the year Vinyl was born (as far as you know, you only looked it up once).
>Johnnie Walker Blue Label.
>And one bottle of Beluga Gold Line Vodka.
>Most folks would be a little apprehensive about bringing vodka to a Russian, not wanting to offend them with stereotypes or some horseshit like that.
>But there were hardly any ways to offend them, aside from calling them ghey...
>Or not including them as bad guys in your action movies and video games.

>Finally, as you got home, you took a short look in your walk-in humidor.
>You weren't sure if either Vadim or Vinyl smoked, but you were going to bring them something nice anyways.
>Expensive tobacco is always a nice gesture.
>And you went with something that Vadim was likely to be familiar with, Cohiba Talisman.

>When you picked up your new suit, Rarity couldn't help but compare you to James Bond.
>C'mon now, you weren't that smooth... Or a Goddamn womanizer.


>"I would say you are looking quite handsome now, but when are you not?"
"Rarity, please".
>"Oh come on Anon, take a compliment every now and then!"
>As soon as she finished, the bell chimed.
>Another customer was in the shop.
>It was her sister.
>"Sweetie Belle! What a pleasant surprise".
>Without saying a word, she hands her a piece of paper.
>"What is this?"
>"It's a design I'm hoping you could make for me".
>"You don't speak to me for weeks, but you're still coming to me for favors?"
>"I'm sorry, Rarity, but, I've just been so busy with my... studies".
>You weren't in the know about her studies, or their relationship as siblings, so you didn't say anything.
>"Very well, if you don't mind my asking, what is this dress for?"
>She was somewhat hesitant to say.
>"There's an... event happening, formal thing... It's happening in a few weeks."
>Rarity looked back at the paper that had Sweetie's design, her suspicions were raised.
>"It is rather... revealing, wouldn't you say?"
>"Ehh-"
>"Very well, but no more freebies after this!"
>"Thanks!"
>She hugs her, then goes on her way.
>Your suspicions were certainly raised, but this was none of your concern.


>Finally, the day had come.
>Even though you had already made a first impression, you figured you better go there in a very nice car.
>You didn't think this was a special enough occasion for the 'Crown Jewel', however.
>So the Maybach 57s came out again.

>You reviewed the instructions on the paper that Vinyl gave you.
>It stated that you were to use the utmost caution when approaching and entering the property.
-TREAT SECURITY AS IF THEY ARE COPS
-REMAIN POLITE
-KEEP YOUR HANDS ON YOUR STEERING WHEEL AT THE '10' AND '2' POSITIONS UNTIL INSTRUCTED OTHERWISE
-DO NOT MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS
-DO EXACTLY AS THE GUARDS TELL YOU, WHEN THEY TELL YOU
-SERIOUSLY, THEY ARE HIGHLY TRAINED, DO NOT FUCK WITH THEM
>This unnerved you.
>The feeling definitely didn't subside as you drove on the gravel road leading to their property.
>Maybe you developed these instincts after all those years in the military, but you could feel all the rifles being trained on you, even though you didn't see them.
>You preemptively lowered your windows, ready to be questioned by a guard at any point.
>You also held onto the note, and put it on your dash, despite there being no signatures or identifying markings on it.
>After several tense minutes of driving, you arrived at the gate.


>You approached a medieval style stone wall, and a wrought iron gate.
>Yours wasn't much different, but you didn't have a security detail...
>or guard towers like Auschwitz.
>There were three men that you could see guarding it, two in tracksuits and chest rigs, armed with AK rifles.
>One was a gentleman in a black suit, he had a sidearm.
>As unorthodox as they looked, you didn't let that make you underestimate them.
>If Vadim hired them for protection, then they must've been some real scary badasses.
>With a closer look at them, they were very intimidating.
>The suit approached your car. You would rather be trying to sneak crack over the border at this moment.
>"What's your business here?"
"I... was invited by Vadim and Vinyl... for dinner".
>He spoke to someone over his radio in Russian, you weren't sure what he was saying, but you think he was reporting everything you were saying to a superior.
>Vadim, maybe?
>"Name please..."
"Anonymous".
>"Этo Aнoним..."
>After a few agonizing seconds, he responded back to you.
>"Goings to garage ahead, they will search you, do not try to make bypass... Oh, and nice cufflinkings".
"Thank you".
>The gates opened, and you proceeded.
>Eyeballing the surroundings, you saw just how well-defended Vinyl and Vadim were.
>Forget a security detail, they had a private fucking army.
>Their home must've been better protected than the Wolf's Lair.


>You drove into the small garage on the side of the road, another man in a suit and several armed men were awaiting your arrival.
>"Put car in park and turn off engine, please".
>Remember: 'DO EXACTLY AS THE GUARDS TELL YOU, WHEN THEY TELL YOU'
>"Out".
>And so you stepped out.
"Gentlemen, I feel I should inform you that there is a weapon in there".
>"Of thankings..."
"Do you need help locating it? There are a lot of storage compartments in there that no one consid-"
>"Boss owns car just like this, but bigger".
>You knew exactly what he was talking about.
"A 62?"
>"That's the one!"
>Goddamn.
>Sure enough, they found your wondernine.
>"Browning Hi-Power, very nice. We'll keep it safe until you leave".
>And you can live with that.

>You got back into the car, and drove on.
>Now that you felt more comfortable, you took a closer look around.
>These security checkpoints look like they were actually modeled after the Wolf's Lair.
>Only instead of Nahtzees running around, there were gopniks.


>It was a bit of a drive, how much property did these folks own?
>Along the way, you saw several large trucks and SUVs.
>A mix of military-spec G-Wagens, Lincoln Navigators...
>But the trucks, those were heavy duty.
>One of them you recognized from your time in Germany, a Zetros.
>What the Hell was Vadim doing with a German deuce and a half?

>At last, you made it to their home.
>And Good God was it something.
>You drove across a bridge on to an artificial island, going towards what could be described as a majestic palace...
>Actually, it looked more like it was modeled after a monastery from the old country.
>Along the way, another car drove past you going the opposite direction, a black C-Class.
>It aroused your suspicion, it seemed familiar.

>You made it to the entrance, and you were greeted by a valet and what seemed to be a maid.
>You handed your vehicle over, and got ready to hand him a tip.
>"Heт чaeвых!! Not allowed!"
>Either this guy is getting paid very well, or Vadim is treating him like shite.
>Then you walked back up to the woman.
>"Дoбpo пoжaлoвaть! Please follow me to the master living quarters".
>And so you did.


>You followed her into a large majestic house.
>It was so big, it even had a lobby.
>"Please wait here, the master will meet you shortly".
"Much appreciated, thank you, madame".
>"May I get you something, a drink perhaps?"
"I'm okay, thank you".
>She bowed to you, then went to perform other duties.

>You took a stroll around the room, admiring every fine, luxurious, expensive detail.
>The marble floors.
>The great oak paneled walls.
>The paintings.
>One of them was of Vadim, made to look like Czar Ivan IV...
>AKA: Ivan the Terrible.
>Another one was of Vinyl, which looked more like Soviet era propaganda.
>In a glass case in the middle of the room was a military uniform.
>It was Vadim's.
>Judging by the rank insignias, badges and medals, he was no conscript.
"Interesting".
>If you weren't mistaken, he was ex-FSB, a Russian spook.
>With that being the case, a lot of those gunmen you saw on the way here must've been ex-Spetsnaz.

>Midway through your self-tour, you heard distant screaming.
>It was coming from deep inside the building.
"T-Tell me someone left a TV on or something..."
>Now all sorts of scary thoughts were running through your mind.


>What if Vadim decided he wanted to have you clipped?
>You handed them your car, so you couldn't escape.
>Even if you did have it, you would get lost so quickly on this massive piece of land, you would just die with an empty fuel tank.
>They took away your gun, so you couldn't defend yourself effectively.
>But even if you did have it, what could you do against this crack team of Russian commandos?
>Still, you'd be better off with your Hi-Power.
>At the very least, you could put a bullet in your own head instead of enduring whatever the Hell Vadim was doing to this poor bastard.
>The terrifying screams of agony were becoming even more audible.
>If that was the work of Vadim, he was giving this unlucky motherfucker a very good working over.
>You feared for your own well-being, you began to tremble.
>You turned pale, and began to sweat.
>Even having experienced war from the front lines, hearing that was paralyzingly scary.
>Then, you whispered...
"Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name..."
>Parking your ass on a nearby couch, you continued to quietly pray.
>For your sake, and for the sake of the man being tortured.

>The screaming finally subsided, but this did little to lift your spirits.
>You continued to pray, repeating The Lord's Prayer several times.
>Finally, a Godsend.
>"Anon!"
>It was Vinyl.
>Just hearing her seldom-heard voice, it already put you at ease.


"Vinyl!"
>There she was, at the top of a nearby staircase.
>She was wearing a long white sundress with a blue floral pattern, and a pair of moccasins.
>Beautiful as always.
>She rushed down the stairs to meet you.
>"Anon! I'm so happy you could make it!"
>She jumped into your arms, and hugged you.
>You returned the hug, embracing her small, soft little body.
"I'm happy to have made it".
>She nuzzled her head against your chest, and beneath your chin.
>You nuzzled her back, taking in the aroma of mixed berries emanating from her electric blue locks.
>She pushed you back, and got a good look at your new suit.
>"You look nice!"
"Am I overdressed?"
>"A bit, but it shows you have respect, my father will appreciate it".
>You got yourself another eyeful of Vinyl.
"I wish you'd dress like this more often, it looks... traditional".
>She blushed, and looked away.
"But considering your line of work, I'd imagine that this is for... special occasions".
>She looked back to you, and took your hands.
>Then gasped.
>"Anon!"
>Your cold, clammy hands killed the mood, as was expected.
>"Are you okay?"
>Not really.
"I think I've heard things that I wasn't supposed to hear..."


>"What kinds of things?"
>Just as she said that, the two of you jumped as a door somewhere slammed.
>Next thing you heard was what you could only imagine was Russian profanity.
>Then the man turned a nearby corner, and you were stunned by what you witnessed.
>It was Vadim, in a bloody apron, one bloodied gloved hand holding a filleting knife, screaming God knows what into an old cell phone.
>He then noticed you and Vinyl, and froze.
>The two of you looked each other in the eye, unsure of what to say.
>Internally, you panicked, thinking of some way to keep this from getting awkward.
>Think, Anon, think!
"I... suppose you have prepared us a suckling pig for dinner tonight!"
>Vadim just stood there, shifting his eyes between you and Vinyl.
>And then he started chuckling.
>And then he broke out laughing.
>"Xaxa! You are funny man, he makes funny!"
>Then he dismissed whoever was on the phone then got back to you.
>"I'm really sorry about this, I was in the middle of... business... I'm sure you understand".
"Completely".
>"Vinyl, dear, would you please show our guest around while I finish my work and get dinner ready?"
>"Yes, Papa".
>She took you by the hand, and you were soon out of there.


>Vinyl took you out the front of the building.
>Both of you were rather compelled to get out of there as fast as possible.
>While coming down the stairs, you had this to say.
"You know something, I heard human flesh is a lot like veal, but less gamy..."
>And she turned back to you, disgusted.
>"Christ, Anon..."
>She sent a text out to someone, then got back to you.
>"You piss my dad off, he will serve some of that poor guy to you".
"I piss him off, I think that'll be the least of my concerns".
>You stood there a moment, waiting.
>What exactly was it you were waiting for, though?
"Uhh, Vinyl, what's going on? Why are we standing around like a couple of tards?"
>She pointed over to your left.
>It was a golf cart, a four seater, turning the corner.
>She grabbed you by the hand and guided you into the rear seats.
>Then she made a request to the driver, in Russian.

>As the cart whirred along, you got a good look around this castle of a home they lived in.
>This couldn't have all been financed through illegal means, Vadim must've been on every police agency's radar from here to the Motherland.
>But Vinyl was able to explain it all to you.
>"We run a lot of legitimate businesses..."
>From her music career...
>To everything that Vadim does, which included arms dealing and logistics.
>That would explain why he had big ass military trucks like the Zetros rolling about.


>At last, you came up to what looked like a regular house.
>"Here!"
>And it was here that the cart powered down to a complete stop.
>"This is where I live".
>So she has her own house on a massive piece of land that her father owns.
>Talk about living large.
>"Cпacибo, мoй дpyг!"
>She gave the driver a hug, then took you inside.

>Her little living space was a nice, modest little thing.
>It wasn't much different from any given middle class home from the suburbs.
>She didn't like to live too extravagantly, so it seemed.
>At the very least she didn't like to be constantly reminded of her status as 'Papa's Little Princess'.
>She tried to exercise some humility.

>You took a look around, there was a living room with a TV and game consoles.
>Also part of the room, a little kitchen.
>And a staircase leading to what you assumed was her bedroom.
>"Want a cookie?"
>She presented you a jar of what you assumed were home-baked cookies.
"Thanks!"
>It was delicious, definitely not manufactured.


>"Wanna come upstairs with me?"
"Why, so we can engage in sexual congress in your bedroom? What kind of pervert do you take me for?"
>She chuckled, then pinched you in the cheek.
>"C'mon".
>She led you upstairs, and you were pretty surprised with what you saw.
>On top of being where she slept, it was also where she worked her musical magic.
>You didn't know anything about audio production, so you could only imagine how much all this cost.
>Most would assume it was paid for with Daddy's money, but Vinyl could make her own money.
>"I've also got a recording studio back in the main building for, you know, vocals".
>To keep privacy, you presume.
>"Sometimes when producing music, I tend to to work with some... undesirable folks".
"So you'd rather not have them here?"
>She nodded in affirmation.
>"Although, ever since I found... THIS..."
>She presented to you a box marked VOCALOID.
>"I might never have to deal with retarded singers ever again!"
"Is that what this does?"
>Looking at the anime character on the box, you would've thought she was a teenage pervert.

>You spent the next little bit sampling her up and coming tracks.
>As you listened to her tunes, you took a closer look around her room.
>She made her bed, that was a good sign.
>There were pictures on the walls, of her and her friends and family, you presumed.
>A flag of the Russian Federation, and another of what you assumed was her home Oblast.
>And a portrait of the Russian Patriarch, next to a Russian Orthodox cross.
>But off at the corner of the room was a rather peculiar box.


"This looks interesting".
>"Hmm?"
>Then she saw where you were looking.
>"Oh Lord, you sure you wanna see what's in there?"
>She shouldn't have said that, now you had to see what's in there.
"What, is it your nudes?"
>"Okay, it's not bad in that way, but it's bad..."
>Oh boy.

>You cautiously opened the box, there wasn't anything that could've prepared you for what you were going to see.
>Among the things you found, there were several framed portraits of various... historical figures...
>Julius Caesar
>Nicholas II
>Adolf Hitler
>Benito Mussolini
>Augusto Pinochet
>Saddam Hussein
>Mummar Gaddafi
>Bashar al-Assad
>Joseph Stalin
>Pol Pot
>Kim Il Sung
>And others...
>There was no ideological consistency here (aside from authoritarianism), did she have several "phases" in her life?
>Or did she just have a fetish for dictators and royalty?
>And of course, she had several flags...
>Gadsen Flag
>Several variations of the Imperial Russian Flag
>Soviet Hammer and Sickle
>Waffen SS and Swastika banners...
>And one very interesting looking Iron Eagle...
"What the fuck!?"


>This bright red flag didn't have just any Eagle.
>Emblazoned within the olive branch, where a Swastika would usually be, was the symbol of Juche.
>A North Korean touch on a German emblem.
"Vinyl, what is this?"
>Her lips puckered up.
>"Told ya it was bad..."
>And beneath that flag was a CD...
>And beneath that, was a pair of Doc Martens boots...
>With red laces...
"Oh my God... Vinyl?"
>Then she sighed.
>"Yea, I've... done things..."
>She took the CD.
>"This takes me back..."
>As admittedly afraid as you were, you decided to take a listen.

>https://youtu.be/y061TPeKoeI
>https://youtu.be/LVesxq-Cx9s

>Her musical works at this time were... interesting, to say the least.
>So if you were correct, she went through several phases in her life...
>Judging by the framed pictures with her friends, she started off pretty apolitical, at most, she was a generic conservative...
>Then became a libertarian.
>Then she had a wignat phase.
>And she even had a nazbol phase.
"Damn".
>"Yea, I made all this at a... rough point in my life..."
>It was best you didn't probe any further, you were done violating her privacy.
>You were, however, flattered that Vinyl was willing to open up to you...


>There was one more thing in the box that caught your attention.
>A Tokarev pistol.
>"Oh shit, that's where it ended up!"
>She snatched it out of the box, and removed the mag.
>It was loaded.
>Then she rocked the slide, and there was a round chambered.
"You're fucking lucky there are no kids around here".
>"Tell me about it... Hey! Wanna go shooting later?"
"That would sound fun, if I had my gun".
>She jumped up, went into her closet, and took out a Krinkov and several magazines.
>A full on short-barreled rifle, it even had a folding stock.
"Very nice, good thing you don't have any dogs".
>Vinyl chuckled, she got the joke.
>"I'd take you into the armory, but it's empty at the moment".
"Expecting an ATF raid?"
>"Nah, my Dad just got bought out".
>And you weren't going to inquire about his clients.

>Some time later, you left her house and went out for a walk together.
>"Remember when I told you about the garage? You're going to love it!"
>You were legitimately giddy with anticipation.
>But of course, the surprises never end here at the Scratch compound.


>You passed several large, boxy buildings along the way, a lot of them warehouses.
>One was a garage for utility vehicles.
>It was where Vadim kept a lot of his fleet of trucks.
>The marques of the vehicles going in and out of the building were mostly Daimler-Benz and... Kamaz?
>"Those are mostly for work around the compound, they aren't registered here".
>These are likely the only Kamaz vehicles in the country, they weren't exactly common here.
>One was leaving the building.
>"Wanna hitch a ride?"
>Next thing you knew, you were in a big Russian truck, on your way to see their private car collection.

>Aside from what you did in the military, you'd never been in a truck like this.
>It was pretty comfy.
>Well, it would've been, but there was only one passenger seat, so you and Vinyl had to share that seat.
>It wasn't uncomfortable per se, but having Vinyl's bottom upon your lap...
>There was something that didn't feel right about it.
>It felt... sinful.

>Finally, you arrived at your stop.
>And just like every other building in this compound, it was massive.
>You were ready to ask Vinyl just how big their collection was.
>But it was best that you saw for yourself.


>Before you dismounted the truck, you attempted to slip a 50 to the driver.
>"I'm not allowed to accept that, but thanks anyways!"
>You and Vinyl then hopped out.
>"Don't worry Anon, we pay them very well".
>You hoped so.

>The two of you approached the guard at the door.
>He was a rather large gentleman, in an awkwardly cut black suit.
>It was likely he was armed.
>After a cheery conversation with Vinyl that you couldn't understand, he opened the door for you.
>Upon entering, you tread upon a fancy red carpet.
>And then you looked up, and gasped.
>Ultra-luxury and high-performance cars all around, it looked like it could rival Jay Leno's collection.
>They had cars of all makes and models, even those that were never marketed here, a lot of classics too.
>Among the first vehicles to catch your eye...
>Vadim owned a Mercedes-Benz 600 Grosser, in Bond villain black
>Cadillac Fleetwood
>Toyota Century
>Aston Martin DB5
>Ferrari Testarossa
>Lamborghini Countache
>Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud
>Duesenberg Boattail
>Volvo 164
>Hongqi Flagship
>Several G-Class SUVs, including a G63 AMG 6x6, and a Brabus G900
>And of course, the Maybach 62 the guard told you about on the way here.
>Also hidden away towards the back of the building, in their own little group, were several hypercars.
>He had a Bugatti Chiron, Koenigsegg Jesko, and a McLaren Senna...
>And he had a spot reserved for a Mercedes-Benz AMG One he had on order.
>"Wanna get into one and race?"
"Vinyl, I'll have a heart attack if I so much as touch one of those".
>Speed wasn't really your thing.
>That, and you didn't want to be made responsible for having to pay for aerospace parts if anything went wrong.


>Now those were Vadim's cars, there was a cordoned off section for Vinyl's cars.
>Her collection was no where near as big and extravagant as her father's, but it was impressive nonetheless.
>Among the vehicles in her private collection...
>You recognized the Toyota Supra from the night you met her.
>Acura NSX, first generation.
>Honda Civic Type-R
>Alfa Romeo 159
>Lexus LFA
>Lotus Elise
>Kia Stinger GT
>Audi TT
>FIAT 124 Spider, Abarth tuned
>Nissan GT-R Nismo
>Lancia Stratos
>Mini Cooper S Convertible
>Jaguar X-Type
>Land Rover Defender 130
>Subaru WRX STI, in rally configuration
>Toyota Hilux Arctic Truck
>VW Westfalia
>BMW M3 E30
>A couple Mazda Miatas, one of them AMG swapped.
>Several motorcycles, mainly Ducati and Yamaha.
>Toyota AE86 Trueno... with Katakana text on the side...
>Pontiac Trans-Am... supercharged, painted yellow with a white racing stripe down the middle...
>You had a good idea of the kind of media she like to consume.
>Now came the crown jewel of her collection...
>The 2016 Aston Martin DB9 Volante, its last year of production.
>In Skyfall Silver... of course.
>"Before you ask: No, daddy doesn't pay for my cars".
>The two of you had some pretty disparate tastes in wheels.
>You were into German luxury and American classics.
>She was into sportier cars, mainly Japanese, British, and Italian, with a few exceptions.


>She took you around a little longer to browse the rest of her dad's collection.
>But she soon left you to your own devices, as she had to go use the little girl's room...

>The more you saw, the more excited you got.
>You had to admit, you were quite envious of Vadim's collection.
>Maybe not so much the hypercars, paying $20,000 for oil changes at least once a year didn't sound all that appealing to you.
>Among other costs related to maintaining these things...
>There was a section of other vehicles that weren't in working condition.
>There was another Duesenberg
>Several Eastern-bloc cars, such as Zil limouzines, Ladas, Yugos, and a couple Trabant sedans.
>A Schwimmwagen.
"Hehe, not quite ready to Schwimm, are ya?"
>But this next piece shocked you...
>In the corner, in a dilapidated state, was a Mercedes-Benz 770.
"Holy Christ..."
>Talk about rare, only about 200 of these were ever made.
>And a bunch of them were destroyed during the war...
>This must've been one of them, and Vadim was going to restore it.

>Sometime later, you came across a Mercedes-Maybach limo...
"Very nice Pullman..."
>Well, it was, if the passenger window wasn't shot up.
"What the..."
>But the window wasn't shattered, and the bullets had not penetrated.
>It was an armored "GUARD" version.
>Evidently, it protected Vadim... maybe even Vinyl, from an assailant.
>Perhaps whoever did this was getting carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey earlier.


>Seconds later, the horn sounded off, the hazard lights flashed, and you jumped.
>"Boт oнo!".
>You backed away from the car, and got ready to put your hands up and surrender.
>For a moment, you thought the two men were here for you.
>But they were just here for the car.
>One of the men looked at you for a second, then went back to what they were doing.
>They started it up, the V12 engine roared to life...
>Just as soon as they arrived, they were gone with the vehicle.
>Unless you just witnessed an unopposed robbery, they must've been taking it to the body shop.
>Or wherever you would go to get an armored vehicle repaired.

>A short while later, in another far off corner of the garage, you came across a peculiar vehicle.
>Peculiar, because it seemed familiar.
>It was a charcoal grey... Bentley?
>Upon getting closer to it, you found it was actually a Rolls-Royce...
>A Silver Spirit... but where was the Spirit of Ecstasy?
>Stolen, evidently.
>And that wasn't the extent of the damage...
>The driver's door window was smashed, the passenger's door behind it looked like it was forced open.
>Going towards the rear, it looked even worse, like it was caught in a pit maneuver.
>In the back seat, the situation was very grim...
>The seats and lambskin rugs had been browned with dried blood.
>Again, this all seemed familiar.
>You remembered a situation like this, years ago, back when you were in the ambulance crews.
>A young woman had been raped and murdered.


>By the time you had gotten there, she was already dead, it was up to you to confirm it.
>Police managed to apprehend most of the culprits.
>Unfortunately, most got off with fairly light sentences, even more had gotten away.
>It truly was a tragedy, it wasn't like this girl was off on a ghetto tour...
>This girl... her name evaded you, you couldn't recall it to save your life.
>"I thought about scrapping this car a few times..."
>You jumped back and gasped.
>Vinyl had returned, she took you by surprise.
>Moving silently as always.
>"But this is all I have left of her..."
>She walked around the vehicle, gently running her dainty fingers along its bonnet.
>"She had just finished her first concert, we were supposed to meet up that night, I was so happy for her. We wanted to celebrate..."
>This was making you nervous.
>Not because of what she was telling you (though that was certainly part of it), but moreso because she was monologuing.
>It was rare that she said more than two sentences in succession.
>"I still remember the night she died, with me sitting there alone at the restaurant, sending message after message, call after call, getting no answer..."
>Her voice was cracking, and her eyes shone bright with unspilled tears.
>"At first, I was frustrated, thinking that she stood me up... But I knew she would never do that to me. And then, I was worried...".
>You continued to tense up.
>"When the news finally got to me... I... was dumbfounded, confused... like I was just stabbed in the heart... I knew I had to leave..."
>Despite her grief, her manners were sufficient enough to not share her feelings with the other patrons.


>She rested her hands on the roof of the vehicle, tears dripped upon it.
>Then her hands began to ball up into fists.
>"She died without dignity... she didn't deserve this".
>Now you were starting to choke up.
>"After I found out who took her life, I hooked up with the local skinhead chapter, I went in there ready to earn my red laces..."
>This was scaring you now.
>"I managed to get my hands on two of those... FUCKING NIGGERS!"
>She banged her fists onto the car, and began to laugh.
>"I got so much enjoyment out of burning off their cocks! And then then hanging them from trees like back in the old days, it was fucking cathartic!"
>Jesus Christ, girl...
>She paused for a moment to catch her breath.
>"But my dad had to put an end to it, he was in enough trouble at the time, he didn't need my bullshit, justified or not".
>She sniffled.
>"Killing that whole crew wouldn't have brought her back... Tavi.... TAVI!"
>Then she broke down weeping.
>That name, 'Tavi'...
>Then it hit you.
>MELODY, OCTAVIA.
>That's how her tag read, you knew exactly who she was talking about, who this car belonged to.
>You watched the crime scene cleanup crews take her body and car away that evening.
>It was probably the saddest day you ever had on the job.
>Next thing you realized, Vinyl's head was resting in your bosom, and she was hugging you tightly.
>"She was my best friend!"
>You hugged her back, attempting to console her.
>But her sobbing would not stop for some time.
>This was a story so woeful, so heartbreaking, even the guard at the other side of the building needed a moment.


>Some time later, you were back in her corner of the garage...
>With your arses sitting atop the bonnet of Vinyl's DB9.
>You handed Vinyl your handkerchief to blow her nose, all those emotions had taken a lot out of her...
>And a lot out of you too as a matter of fact.
>"Anon..."
>You looked back at her, still holding her dainty little body, trying to comfort her.
>"I... I'm sorry..."
"Sorry? What for?"
>"For... breaking down like I did..."
>There was absolutely no way you could fault her for having emotions.
>Besides, it was your curiosity that killed this cat.
>You brought her in closer and tighter to you.
>Seeing this pretty little woman in such a vulnerable way...
>You hate to sound like a white knight, but your protective instincts had kicked in.
>You wanted to safeguard this delicate, beautiful little lady.

>After some time of holding each other...
>"I don't know about you, but I could use some cheering up. Wanna take a ride?"
"Sure, which one are we taking?"
>She got up, looked back at you, and sized you up...
>Then she made director's hands at you.
"What are you doing?"
>"I'll be right back".
"Alright then".
>She went off to some back room somewhere...
>What on God's Green Earth did she have in store for you?


>She was gone a little while.
>When she returned, you were surprised to see what she was carrying...
>For one, she had her guns that she showed you earlier, and a chest rig...
>As she approached you, she tossed you a gun.
>"Q sends this your way".
>Are you really doing this?
>It was your Hi-power, how did she recover this?
>Perhaps when you're the Don's daughter, there's not much that you can't do, and can't have.
>The next thing she threw your way really surprised you...
>It was the "Emotional Control Unit" for the DB9.
>She just tossed a $2000 key FOB at you, like it was a beisbol.
>You caught it, of course, but that was still unnerving.
>Then again, she did just throw a loaded firearm at you, so really, what's scarier?
"What the fuck kind of 'ride' are we taking?"
>"The fun kind, I'll show you the route".
>You got into the driver's seat...
>"Put down the soft top, let's get some fresh air".
>Then very carefully and deliberately...
>You pressed the brake and the clutch, jacked off the gear shift until it was in neutral, fired up that 5.9L V12 engine, released the clutch, then the parking brake...
>Pressed the clutch again, put it in gear, then you were off...
>Evidently, this supercar had a manual transmission, this was no douchy rich kid's toy.

>You weren't much of a fan of Astons, but this thing was awesome.
>It was even better with the manual transmission, the automatics tended to be clunky, not fluid at all.
>As you drove, you saw just how much green space they had on their property.
>And it was all well maintained, and well manicured.
>It was good enough for a round of golf.


>Vinyl pointed out the next turn to you.
>She then handed you a set of earplugs.
"Oh Lord..."

>Soon you found yourself driving around a bunch of hollow, incomplete looking buildings.
"Uh oh..."
>There were gongs and other targets all around.
>Then Vinyl let out several controlled bursts of 5.45x39mm.
>You were almost ready to stop.
>"Keep driving, floor it!"
>And the engine screamed, and she kept shooting.
>As soon as you realized what was happening, you took note on her shooting.
>She was hitting the gongs with almost every shot, she was an excellent gunman.
>"To the left!"
>You hit the window button to lower it, then took out the Hi-power...
>Now you haven't had to use your gun in a while, and you haven't been training, so you were a bit rusty.
>You certainly haven't had to drive and shoot at the same time before, so this was going to be a challenge for you.
>After emptying a mag, you were able to score three hits on the gongs.
>At least you didn't completely embarrass yourself.

>As you cleared that set of targets, Vinyl began to chuckle.
"What?"
>"Good thinking on the window. I once shot it out on this side because I forgot to lower it".
>Ouch.
"Shit, how much did that end up costing you?"
>"A couple grand".
"Yeesh..."

>Another set of targets were incoming.
>"You ready?"
"I'm out of ammo!"
>She handed you the short 74 and took the wheel.
>"Go for it!"
>You cocked the charging handle...
>Then the first target came up.
>You let out a short burst, right on target.
>This thing handled very nicely, controllable recoil...
>On top of that, it must've been properly rifled, this thing was a tack driver.
>The optic she was running didn't seem to be properly zeroed in, however...


>After another little bit of running and gunning, you parked by the edge of a lake and enjoyed the sunset.
>You had your arm wrapped around Vinyl's shoulder.
>And her head was resting on yours.
>As pleasant as this was, there was still something at the back of your mind that was bothering you.
>The story of what happened to her friend...
>Do you dare tell her your role in all that?
>You're afraid that if you do, she might get angry at you for it, as if you had failed to save her.
>Even just thinking about it was making you feel guilty.
>But objectively, you knew there was nothing you could've done...
>Gently, you ran your fingers through her electric blue locks.

>Finally, you got going...
>"I think I hear my father calling".
>The two of you drove back to the main building in Vinyl's DB9.

>When you got there, you were greeted by Vadim himself.
>"Well now, it's about time MI6 sent someone competent after me, it's flattering".
"Easy there Dr. Blofeld".
>That got a chuckle out of the dangerous man.

>Vadim led you up to a balcony, he had a barbecue going.
>Shashlik was on the menu tonight.


>It was a lovely evening of grilling, drinking, shooting the shit... and music.
>There was a balalaika lying about, Vinyl took it and started playing.
>And Vadim began singing...
>"Дopoгoй длиннoю, Пoгoдoй лyннoю..."
>You recognized that melody, was that 'Those were the Days?"
>Then they explained that the song you know by Mary Hopkin, was actually Russian.
"I actually never knew that".
>They put on an excellent performance.
>Vadim was a pretty good singer.
>And Vinyl, well, she was musically gifted to begin with.
>In fact, she learned to play an instrument before she became a DJ.
>She would later explain how that helped her at the turntables.
>Not too long after, you got to drinking.
>Vinyl had at the Champagne.
>You were drinking the whiskey...
>And Vadim had at the vodka, which he absolutely loved.
>"You sir are a very generous man!"
"I couldn't find it in me to come empty handed. Even now, I still feel cheap after getting to tour such an exquisite residence".
>He raised a glass to you, and clinked.
"Oh, and I brought a couple of these..."
>You presented him a Cohiba Talisman, very rare, very expensive.
>He took it, and then looked back at you, then shook the stick back at you...
>"This is a genuine Cubano, yes?"
"I wouldn't have brought it to you if it wasn't".
>He chuckled.
>"Not that I don't appreciate this, but you are aware of what you financed, yes?"
>What the Hell was he going on about?


>"You do realize the Cubans are still communist, yes?"
"Mmm hmm..."
>"And that their intelligence services work to sow unrest here, right?"
>Is he suggesting that you helped finance pinko revolutionaries?
"Are you telling me that at least SOME of my money went to those Antifa mongrels?"
>He raised his eyebrows at you, as if to say you should've known better.
"Oh my... You know, that makes perfect sense".
>"Believe me, I used to work with them".
"No kidding".
>Then again, it's not like you were doing the country any good.
>Of course, Vadim realized this, so he posed another question.
>"Well, Anon, what got you into this... line of work?"
>Vinyl paused and looked to you.
>It's possible she wanted to see if the answer you give her father is consistent with the answer that you gave to her.
>And sure enough, it was.
>You gave him the whole spiel that you gave to his daughter.
>Your anger with the state.
>Your resentment with how they used you.
>Your disgust for modern society.
>And of course, your personal war with all of it.
"You know something, I think you know better than anyone about what I do..."
>"Hmm?"
"I got the idea of 'narco terrorism' from what the Islamists are doing in your country..."
>Vadim was intrigued.
"They had the right idea: if you are going to go to war, what better place to strike a nation than it's social capital?"
>He agreed.
>"I wouldn't imagine that you would offer krok-"
>You had to stop him right there.
"Absolutely not, even I'm not that cruel".
>Judging by the way he was looking at you, if he thought you were dealing krokodil he would strangle you.
>Or worse, his apron would be covered in YOUR blood.
>The two of you clinked glasses, he was happy with your answers.


>Aside from Vadim being intimidating, it was a lovely evening, with good drinks, good smokes, and even better food.
>Vadim was quite fond of Cuban tobacco.
>Vinyl abstained, she wasn't a smoker, but you let Vadim keep the other stick anyways.
>As fun as this all was, there was still something bothering you.
>Where was Vinyl's mother in all this?
"I don't mean to probe too deeply into your private affairs, but where is-"
>"My wife? Unfortunately she fell victim to, well... we call it the 'family curse'.
>A curse?
>If you were honest, you weren't too sure if you wanted him to continue on.
>But you let him anyways.
>"For as long as the records have been kept, one spouse is always lost, long before their time..."
>Oh dear, here comes that nervous feeling again.
>"Many years ago, I had lost my beloved Zinoviya. The Chechens were after me, but she was caught in the crossfire..."
>The Bratva was butting heads with the Chechen mob at the time, and they tried to have Vadim killed.
>His car was ambushed as he and his wife were driving, somewhere in the Caucasus.
>He got out alive, but miss Zinoviya didn't.
"I... I'm sorry".
>He took a sip of his drink.
>"It seemed it was just her turn. Before her, it was her father, Boris, and before him, his mother..."
>You were starting to notice a pattern here.
>Vadim lost his wife...
>So sticking around with Vinyl could only mean... well... It didn't bode well for you.
>Vinyl knew exactly what you were thinking, and she shrunk back into her seat and looked away.
>Beneath the table, you took her hand, as reassurance that you would remain by her side.
>When it comes to betting your life on things, you've made more reckless wagers.
>You weren't a particularly superstitious man (though your religiosity would suggest otherwise), but you sort of liked the idea of Vinyl being your travel agent to the afterlife.


>As wonderful as this day was, you were tired, it was time to go home.
>Both you and Vadim had important business to attend to tomorrow.
>"My men will see you out, we hope to be seeing you again very soon!"
"The feeling is mutual, now it's my turn to invite you to my home".
>"We are honored".
>As your car was being delivered to you, you kissed Vinyl on her forehead, and hugged her.
"Can't wait to see you again".
>She pulled your head down to kiss you on the lips to say goodbye.
>When your car arrived, Vadim commented.
>"Very good taste in automobiles".
"I'm not the only one".
>Vadim smirked, shook your hand, and then you were off.

>You were escorted off the property by four guards in two G-Wagens, going together as a convoy.
>One in front of you, one behind.
>After a bit of a drive, when you passed the gates and waved to the armed gopnik, you could relax...
>You lowered your windows and lit up a cigarette...
>As you exhaled, you caught a brief glimpse of a bright red streak in the cloud of smoke you blew.
"What the fuck!?"
>You didn't panick, but you didn't dare stop.
>Unless you were hallucinating, that just confirmed the suspicions you had earlier.
>The suspicion that you had rifles aimed at you at all times.

>You were down to a half tank of fuel, so you pulled into a gas station on the way home.
>As you stopped, you approached the bewildered attendant, and handed him a ten dollar tip right away.
"Fill it up please, 93".
>"Yes sir!"
>You went into the store, and praise be to God, they had tea.
>You took a cup of chamomile, you needed to calm your nerves a bit.
>Especially if you were going to have any hope of getting to sleep tonight.
>As you paid for your gas and tea, and headed out the door, you handed the attendant another tenner.
"Thanks buddy".


>You went to bed fairly late, but that wasn't going to be a problem.
>The boss man, well, one of them anyways, was in your clique, so he perfectly understood why you'd be starting work late tomorrow.
>On top of that, he wouldn't want you missing the big sit down tomorrow, you'd be seeing him there...
>Hell, most of the owners of the casino were going to be there.

>The next day went just like any other, with the one exception that it started later...
>It was a ballache as always.

>At the end of the day, you decided to have a snack over at the restaurant.
>A little something to tide you over for your trip, the sit down was a couple hours away...
>Just as you got your meal, your boss made his presence known to you.
>"Anon!"
>It was Mr. Thunderhooves.
>You put out your hand, and he eagerly shook it.
>"How's everything, good?"
"Couldn't be better, sir, big night tonight?"
>"You know it, I hope to see you later tonight! Anything happens over there I know I can depend on you".
>He was an ex-marine, anyone that's ever served knows how much Marines love their Navy corpsmen.
"As always, Jarhead!"
>Shortly after, another familiar face walked by.
>A young, somewhat heavy set gentleman.
>The only times you ever saw him, he was carrying a suitcase into the offices, and out, without saying a word.
>"Hey! Aren't you going to say hi to your uncle?"
>Thunderhooves' nephew?
>It seemed it was what you might call a 'family business'.
"I'll leave you guys alone to talk, see you tonight".


>You finished up, and went to go fetch your car.
>As you found it, Thunderhooves' nephew passed by...
>In a rather familiar black C-Class...
>Very similar to the one you saw leaving Vinyl and Vadim's place.
>You rationalized your suspicions away, however, the C-Class was a fairly common vehicle.
>A car for cheapskates that still want to be seen in a Merc.
>You had yourself a little chuckle...
"Fuckin' poverty-spec".
>The C-Class: the car for closet Nazis, wannabe CIA niggers, and motivated poors.
>As for the car you were driving tonight, you took out the Premium VW.
>Why the VW?
>Because you felt it was best to maintain a low profile.
>That, and this W12 engine gave you plenty of power for a getaway.

>About an hour later, you were underway.
>You weren't even half way there yet, it was going to be a long ride.
>Thankfully for you, you enjoyed driving.
>Just you, your music, and your own thoughts.
>You had Vinyl on your mind.
>On top of that, you were pondering to yourself what you were going to do to entertain her and her father when they come to your house.
>Questions, questions, questions.
>Perhaps it was best you kept your mind on the matter at hand.
>Being honest with yourself, you weren't too excited about this meeting.
>Having so many people involved in organized crime in one place, it just didn't sit right with you.
>And then to add to your worries, you suddenly had a fleet of identical black cars surrounding you.
>Almost all of them Mercedes.
>They had you boxed in, stuck in the center lane.
"Ah shit..."
>And then you received a call.
>It was from a private number.
"Fuck!"
>Do you dare answer it?
>The vehicle to your left, a black Maybach limo, honked.
>It was starting to look familiar, so you took the call...


>"Hello?"
>"Anon, what the Hell's this econobox you're driving?"
"Vadim?"
>You looked back at the window, and sure enough, it was Vinyl's dad waving at you.
>So as not to be rude, you waved back.
>"Keep your eyes on the road, Блин!"
"Vadim, there has to be a better way to get my attention, I thought the feds were out to get me".
>Get on his bad side, you'd probably wish they were after you.
>"Mind having some company?"
>You were hoping to keep a low profile.
>But if anything were to happen, you were confident that Vadim's security detail could keep the situation under control.

>Along the way, you spied a particular vehicle in your rear-view mirror.
>It was the black C-Class, with none other than Thunderhooves' nephew...
"Oh my God..."
>Does Mr. Thunderhooves know he's rolling with the Russians?
>Does that fucking kid know how dangerous these people are?
>Does he also know his uncle is going to be there?
>There was also a Chinese girl in the car with him, who the Hell is that?
>So many questions have been raised.

>A couple hours later, you had made it.
>Where was this all taking place?
>The capital of organized crime in North America, New York City.
>The address you were looking for brought you into a rather swanky Manhattan neighborhood, to a very expensive steakhouse.
>And of course, it was all reserved for you and your criminal cronies.
>At just about any other time in history, you'd be cursing this reckless display of opulence, and having all your big wigs together in one place.
>But the city government was very well owned by the crime families.
>That, and the capabilities and reach of law enforcement were hindered, so they couldn't do anything to you even if they wanted to.
>Thank you BLM.


https://youtu.be/M3U6QlCIMBs
>You stopped with the rest of the motorcade, and stepped out of your vehicle.
>You rested for a few moments, and watched all the other made guys make their way in.
>A vast array of high-performance, ultra-luxury, classic, rare, and unique vehicles lined the street, awaiting a valet to retrieve them.
>Before you could hand your keys off to the valet, Vadim caught you.
>"Aнoн! Кaк дeлa!?"
"Excellent, how about you?"
>You didn't know the words to respond in Russian, but baby steps...
>And then he confronted you about your VW.
>This surprised you, as you would've thought that he'd be the biggest connoisseur of German cars.
>You popped open the bonnet.
>And then you showed him the interior.
>"Ah, a Phaeton, very impressive."
"Looks can be deceiving, can't they?"

>A moment later, Thunderhooves nephew came along.
>He addressed Vadim first, handing the briefcase to him.
>Was he fucking skimming the casino for this guy?
>What perplexed you was that he was addressing him in fluent Russian.
>"Cпacибo, мoй Чypкa...."
>Did he just call him-
>"So you're Anon? Nice to actually meet you, my uncle's practically in love with you".
"It's a pleasure, mister uhh..."
>"Just call me 'Churka', sir".
>After shaking his hand, the Chinese girl travelling with him approached you.
>Tall, slender, graceful, yet noticeably athletic.
>All contained in an elegant Chinese dress.
>The most unusual thing about her was her hair, a bright orange plume that flowed from her head like a mane.
>"Hey Churk, just tipped the valet, you ready?"
>"In a moment, I just have some business to attend to... Oh, and this is Anon, we work together at the Alicorn Palace.
>Work together? You don't even know this guy's name!
>"I think I've heard of you. You know Vinyl?"
>Damn this world's small.
"We're erm... seeing each other".
>"Oh my God! Really? I figured it was about time she found someone... Oh, I'm Autumn by the way".


"Autumn...what?"
>"Blaze, you happy, officer?"
"Happy to be making your acquaintance".
>"Ready to go inside and find seating?"
>"Finally! C'mon, I'm starving".
>"See you inside, Anon!"
>As soon as they were out of earshot, you fulfilled your curiosity.
"Vadim, the word, 'Churka', isn't that-"
>"A racial slur? Yes".
"Does he-"
>"Yes, he's aware".
"And he's okay with that?"
>"Did he not just ask you to call him that?"
"I mean, yeah, but-"
>"He takes it as a term of endearment. Besides, have you ever heard him talk? He uses terms worse than that all the time".
>Is he what the youngings call a "gamer" nowadays?
>"Anyways, I'll see you inside".

>Not too long later, your crew came along.
"Bulk, Wallflower! Glad you could make it. Where's Discord?"
>"He should be here right about... now".
>Pulling up next to you was a small, admittedly adorable, hatchback.
>He stepped out, the tall, slender gentleman towered over the small vehicle.
>"Ah, my compatriots!"
"Discord, what the Hell is that?"
>"This fine piece of engineering is the Renault Twingo! Isn't just splendid!".
>He had weird tastes in... everything... but you don't think he bought this on his own accord.
"Yeah, it is kinda cute... Oh, and congrats on the promotion".
>After a bit of small talk, you made your way into the restaurant.


>There was a little bit of a lineup, and the line was moving rather slowly.
>That was because everyone was getting frisked, and everyone was surrendering any weapons they had on them.
>You had a close look over at Autumn and Churka, it was their turn.
>Churka handed over what looked to be a .22 Derringer, a switch blade, and a can of mace.
>Autumn Blaze on the other hand...
>She playfully, yet gracefully, swished her dress aside, revealing a set of kunai daggers, and a 9mm Beretta pistol strapped to her slender legs.
>And out of her purse came two spare mags for the gun, and a butterfly knife.
>Girl was packing, she must've had some affiliation with the Triads.
>With a white-gloved hand, the guard took each item, careful not to make like a TSA agent and molest her.
>"Oh, wait a moment, can't forget this!"
>In one more surprising twist, she took out one more canister-like item from out of her great plume of hair.
>It was an incendiary grenade.
>Really living up to that last name.
>"Careful with that, now".

>Soon, it was your posse's turn.
>You were first in line to hand over your gun, your trusty Hi-power.
>Then it was Bulk, with his rather impractical Desert Eagle.
>Then Discord, with his ridiculous rainbow titanium finished 1911.
>And then finally Wallflower, who was sensibly armed with a Walther PPK.

>Finally, you and your crew got seated.
>As you got seated, Bulk claimed all the bread in the middle of the table right away.
"Bulk, you inconsiderate prick!"
>"I'm bulkin' up, I need every calorie I can get!"
"Fucking pig".
>Shortly after, the waiters and waitresses came to serve you water.
>As you waited for more bread, you looked around the room.
>Representatives from just about every criminal enterprise operating in the country were present.
>Everyone from Cosa Nostra to the Triads, from the Yakuza to the Dixie mob.
>This may not have been a meeting of the world's rulers, but they were definitely strong contenders.


>Soon, waitresses were at your table to take your orders.
>The first thing to arrive was a complimentary bottle of red wine.
>And it definitely wasn't cheap.
>Saccicaia, vintage 2008, which goes for about $200 a bottle.
>As you poured yourself a glass of wine, an announcement was made.
>A man began making his way to the middle of the room.
>It was the guest of honor for tonight, once a petty scoundrel, he was now the man who led your crime clan, Patriarch of The Family...
>A man so elusive, so seldom seen, some didn't even believe he really existed.
>It was the Don himself, the one and only, Capper
>As soon as he made it to the middle of the room, you stoop up in respect for your boss.
>Wallflower, Bulk, and Discord looked at you as if you suddenly just got naked.
>So as not to make you feel embarrassed, they stood with you.
>A moment later, everyone else in the room stood, as if they thought this was a ceremonial act.
>Though he attempted to hide it, he was clearly surprised by this tribute.
>Before he spoke, he looked over to your table, to you specifically.
>Your eyes met, and your soul froze...
>And then... he smirked.
>"I do very much appreciate this show of respect, but it is unnecessary, please be seated. I'd like for us all to be comfortable here..."
>As everyone was putting their asses back into their seats, Capper just stood there, swishing his martini around his glass, looking rather smug.
>Finally, the room was seated.
>One sip of his drink later, he addressed the underworld's leaders and diplomats.
>"Ladies, gentlemen, business associates, now all one family..."
>Capper really was a gifted talker.
>He could give speeches.
>He could sell you a stolen shitbox.
>He could get you to kill your own mother.
>He could get you to vote for him if he ran for office.
>Politics was a little too dishonest for his tastes, however...


>As he gave his speech, you looked over to Discord.
>You saw the jealousy in his eyes, he's been at this for almost as long as Capper has, but he wasn't boss.
>You tapped him on the shoulder, to reassure him that he achieved a lot.
"Being underboss isn't a bad place to be you know".
>Then you took a closer look at his suit, his design seemed familiar.
"Did Rarity work on this for you?"
>"Well of course! I only put the finest textiles, assembled by the most skilled of tailors, upon this frame!"
>So that's a yes.
>Then you took a look at the others in the room, particularly at the folks you were affiliated with, which included Capper himself.
>Sure enough, over half of them were wearing suits made by Rarity, many of them newly made men.
>That explained why she was so busy.
>These scumbags better have tipped her well for her work.
>Truth be told, the day you were made, getting a new bespoke suit from Rarity was one of the first things you did.
>Not that The Family meant all that much to you, but going to war with society, you wanted to be well-dressed.

>Capper kept things short and sweet, he had a gift for things like that.
>"Now friends, as life is for living, let us eat, drink, and be merry! But more importantly, get to know your new business partners. C'mon now, let's mingle!".

>As his speech came to a close, and everyone's orders began to get filled, you left the table to go "mingle", as Capper ordered you to.
>You wanted to go confront Mr. Thunderhooves about what his nephew was doing.
>However, you decided it was only right that you went and got his nephew's side of this story first.

>After a few minutes of searching, you found Churka and Autumn.
>They were fondling each other and being all lovey-dovey over at the bar.
>Lovebirds were so enamored with each other they didn't even notice you approach them.


>For a few moments, you watched them lock lips and tongue dance.
>And then they starting talking playfully with each other.
>"Mmm, Churk, everything about you but your car is so slow, what's the deal? Avoiding me?"
>"C'mon Autumn, you know what Vadim'll do to me if I keep him waiting".
>"You should be worried about what I'll do to you".
>Then they were back to tongue fucking each other.
>You saw enough, it was time to get their attention.
"Ahem..."
>That did it.
>"Oh hey, ummm... Anon!"
>"How was dinner?"
>As he tried to make small talk, you continued to stare him down.
>"What?"
"So what's your deal?"
>"What do you mean?"
"Does your uncle know you're-"
>Almost as if it was on cue, he waved over to Mr. Thunderhooves as he walked by.
"Alright... So what's your role in all this?"
>"I'm just a delivery boy".
"A delivery boy? Hmm, what do you deliver, what was in that briefcase you gave to Vadim?"
>"The skim".
>So he was outright grabbing money out of the casino safes.
"Right, I really hope you know what you're getting into, cause if you weren't related to Mr. Thunderhooves, if you weren't in any way affiliated with Vadim, and if I knew what you were up to..."
>"You'd slit my fucking throat open? Maybe, but then you'd have her to deal with".
>Referring to Autumn Blaze, of course.
>Now you had questions for her.
>First off:
"How do you know Vinyl, by the way?"
>"I worked for her dad on several jobs, I also worked security for her on a few occasions".
"So you punch tickets, so to speak?"
>"Pfff, hehehe! Come closer for a moment".
>Now you had her whispering in your ear.
>"There is a federal informant among us, he's with us in the Triads..."
>You tried to turn around to see...
>"Don't look, you idiot! He's being taken care of as we speak".
"The Hell you talking about?"
>A few moments later, a Chinaman at a nearby table starting convulsing and retching.


>"Be right back, boys".
>She called out to the people at that table in her oriental tongue, and ran off to go help them.
>Now it was just you and Churka sitting at the bar.
"You mind telling me what the fuck is happening?"
>He took a sip of his beer.
>"She's working".
>Watching, or rather, listening to what was happening, you started to understand the situation.
>Autumn poisoned whoever this mystery informant was.
>Whoever this informant was, they must've been very competent, considering they got this far.
>Damn shame that competence was wasted on government work.

>As Autumn "worked", you resumed your little 'interrogation' with Churka.
"So how'd you end up rolling with the Bratva? Wouldn't your family be the first to tell you not to hang around them?"
>Especially his uncle.
>"Yeah I know about all that, but I've actually been doing my own business with those lads for a long time now..."
>The 'business' he was doing with them turned out to be collecting Russian military memorabilia.
>Mainly for playing airsoft.
>"Really, I've always been obsessed with Slavic culture".
"I see... Just for my own curiosity, how'd you end up meeting that Chinese chick?"
>"Autumn? Well... I'm a pretty big fan of DJ P0N3. I try to catch her whenever she's in town..."
>And of course, they ended up meeting while she was on the job.

>A few moments later, Autumn had returned, ready to finish off the story.
"Christ almighty, that was quick."
>"Need someone 'taken care of', you know who to call! Hahaha! Anyways..."
>She then explained how she had to save his ass on the night they met.
>One night, him and his boys were at the club, Vinyl was the featured DJ of the night.
>There was a group of melanoids that knew who Churka was, and they had a 'beef' with him.


>Long story short, Autumn had to save Churka from getting his ass kicked, and possibly even killed.
>"He may be big guy, but he's such a softie!"
>Autumn hugged her man, she was protective of him.
>"That fuckin' nog busted a bottle of Hennessy on my head, nappy-headed bastard was ready to fuckin' stab me with what was left! She saved my ass that day".
>So the Churk has a girlfriend, and a bodyguard.
>How convenient.

>There was one more question you had at the back of your mind...
"Humor me for a moment, your nickname, "Churka", Isn't that a racial slur to describe, I don't know, fucking Mongolians? I mean, I thought you were Native?"
>He scoffed at your question.
>"Where the Hell do you think us Prairie Niggers come from?"
>Pretty soon he gave you a lesson in anthropology, it was an odyssey in and of itself.
>Cliffs notes version of the story, Injuns are a Mongolic people who crossed over the Bering Strait land bridge some thousands of years ago, so he explains.
>Therefore, the term "Churka", applies to him.
>"My uncle doesn't like to admit it, but it's true..."
>He seemed to like to affiliate himself with Russia, even if it meant being at the bottom of their hierarchy.
"I see, well, not that it effects my sensibilities, but I don't think I can go about referring to you using racial slurs".
>"If you want you can just call me, 'the Delivery Boy', or some shit like that".
"Works for me".
>Soon you let them be, and you went back to your table to enjoy the filet mignon you ordered.
>Hopefully Bulk didn't already eat it to sustain his gains.

>Finally, you could sit and enjoy your meal.
>Not for long, however...
>Capper came along to see how you were doing.
>"Gentlemen! and Lady... How are my best earners doing this evening? How was the wine?".
"Excellent, you treat us well as always, Mr. Capper".
>Capper laughed, overjoyed.
>"When my crew is happy, I'm happy! Say, Anon, would you mind coming with me for a moment..."



>Discord then looked to you, envious that the boss would request you specifically.
>You, however, weren't that keen on getting Capper's attention.
"Erm... Alright, what do you need?"
>"We'll talk about it over a drink".
>Great.
>Even at the best of times you were unnerved with dealing with the Boss of The Family.

>At first, you thought he was mad at you for that little show you put on earlier.
>It was an honest mistake, to be sure.
>However, Capper was rather pleased.
>"Anon, baby! I must commend you for your display of respect. I would've been flattered had it been you alone to stand in my presence, but to get the rest of this... Mmmm... Congregation..."
"Sir, I am sorry, I didn't mean to-"
>"Sorry? What's there to apologize for? You knew to stand before my majesty, I'm just happy everyone else knew to do so as well!"
>That little show of respect you and everyone else showed gave Capper a major ego boost, that alone propelled you into his good books.
>"But still"
>Ah shite...
>"Were they standing for me? Or were they standing because you did?"
>Did that thought damage his ego?
>Talk about fragile.
>"If it's the latter, that shows you've got great leadership potential, I mean, you were an officer in Uncle Sam's war machine, were you not?"
"Well, yes..."
>Where was he going with this conversation?
>"Not sure if you were aware, but I haven't been able to get ALL of the... umm... families on board with us... and one of these are going to be a major obstacle

for us, particularly for you..."
>Hold on a moment.
>Is he asking you to go to war with someone?
>"I do believe 'The Stripes' are going to be causing you some problems. Probably sooner than later".
"Sir, I'm on this crew to move product, not punch tickets!"



>Capper responded with a slight chuckle.
>"I'm not asking you to do such a thing, I've already hired someone else to handle that part.... Ah! Here they are now!"
>"Hello again, Anon!"
>"Nonny!"
>Oh Christ, it's those two.
>"I'm happy you got acquainted with your new business partners, they'll fill you in on what's about to happen".
>You can't say no to this gentleman, he's your boss.
>Even if you could, he didn't really give you an opportunity to do so.
>"I'll leave you two to discuss it, have a great evening!"
"Thanks boss".
>As you watched him walk off, Churka put his hand on your shoulder.
>You turned back to him.
>"Rest assured, Anon, we're not complete retards over here..."
>"OH! You should tell him about that last job we took up together!"
>"I don't know if you know about that new graphics card that came out that everyone was clamoring for, the GeForce RTX 3090s?"
>It had been so many years since you even touched a video game, let alone anything to do with PC gaming, so no, you didn't know.
>"There was a shortage of these things back home, and, well..."
>"We're the reason for that, hahahahah!"
>They basically tracked down a big rig that was hauling these things, and they robbed it.
>By the time they got to it, similar incidents had already happened in other parts of the country.
>So, naturally, they started sending armed guards along with the shipments.
>It was like the Wild West again, with a security guard riding shotgun with the trucker.
>"We seized several hundred units. I got to pocket a few for myself, sold a bunch of them, and I got to make a kick-ass gaming rig!"
"Damn".
>"That was the second time I've had a gun pointed at me".
"What was the first?"
>"The night me and Autumn met and the niggons attacked me, the DJ, Vinyl, took out a shotgun, and the first place she aimed was right at me".
"Christ".
>And then she quickly turned the gun elsewhere, shooting at the other troublesome negroes.



>Soon you found a more private place to discuss the operation.
"Alright then, what's the job?"
>"There's a gang known as 'The Stripes' back home, and they've been growing bolder as of late".
>They're very dangerous, and they were starting to intrude on your territory, pushing their contraband.
>"Autumn's already taken out a couple of their goons, but they aren't pissing off".
>Whoever's leading them either isn't taking the hint, or they don't value the lives of their members.
>"So now we're going to have at their bottom line, right at their goods..."
>Property damage, sounds easy enough.

>"It's not happening right away, but it will be soon, I'll let ya know when".
"Right".
>"Between you and me, I can't wait to get back at those fucking niggers".
>The people that jumped him that night were actually affiliated with this gang.
>After some more discussion, the two of you then shook hands, and he handed you a cigar.
>"Care for one?"
>It was a Romeo y Julieta wide Churchill.
"You know what, sure. Thanks kid. Lemme go finish my dinner then I'll join you out front".

>Sometime later, you and the Churk were outside the front of the restaurant, smoking stoges and shooting the shit.
"You wouldn't happen to still be mad at Vinyl for pointing a gun at you, would you?"
>"You kiddin'? I wasn't even mad then, shit, I'd be fuckin' honored if she shot me!"
>Hell of a fanboy we got here.
>You had another question for the gentleman.
"You don't use, well, you know..."
>Referring to the products you sell.
>"Yeah, I've sampled some of that shit, but I know not to do shit that's popular with niggons".
>Smart enough lad.
>Sometime later, Autumn joined you, with a cigarette at the ready.
>Not too far behind her, another gentleman came out to greet you.
>"Anon, right?"
"Who wants to know?"



>"Name's Rare Find, here for the Rizzutos. Been to your little gaming op down in Canterlot, impressive operation you got there".
"You should be telling that to Mr. Thunderhooves, he's the owner of that joint".
>"Of course, he's a great businessman, but you, you're one of the guys that makes that whole machine work".
>Not to toot your own horn, but you did pull more than your own weight over there.
>"Hey, do you play at all yourself?"
"Poker? Yeah, every now and then..."
>Actually it's been months since you hit the felts, it was bad enough you worked in that degenerate world...
>"We're about to play a round, care to join us?"

"What's the buy in?"
>"Whatever you can bring to the table, it's a cash game."
>Well this is interesting.
"Alright, I'm in. How about you Churk?"
>"Nah, I'm way over my budget on gambling for this month".
>Good man.

>Now you were seated back in the restaurant before a green felted table with nine other folks.
>You had about $6,000 cash with you, you bought in with $3,000
>Others had bought in for $5,000 to $10,000.
>Some were buying in with collateral.
>Blinds have been set to $250 and $500.
>And just as luck would have it, you started off with the big blind...

>Fortune seemed to be favoring you this game, you were already up over $1,000.
>Rare Find, the gentleman that invited you, was down almost $5,000.
>Several hands later, he ended up buying in for another ten grand.
>At the rate he was going, he was going to be racking up debts.
>And in this world, owing money to the wrong people gets you killed.



>Some time later, he had nearly the last of his chips in the pot again.
>The community cards so far were K, 10, A.
>You bet first, and the others folded.
>Except for Rare Find.
>He didn't have enough to call you.
>But to him, the pot was calling.
>And that wasn't the only thing.
>"What was that you drove here, a Phaeton?"
"Good eye, most people just think it's just a Jetta, Passat".
>He then threw a set of car keys onto the table.
>"How does a Jaguar XE sound to you?"
>"Sir, now's not the time for a re-buy".
>You interjected, that dealer worked for your casino, after all.
"Don't worry about it..."
>You tossed your keys on the table.
"Let him have a chance to win his money back".

>Everyone else at the table was confused.
>A couple of conversations were going on.
>Some speaking Spanish, some speaking Italian.
>They were wondering, 'Why is one gentleman betting an expensive luxury car for a VW'?
>Even those that knew cars would be wondering why someone is betting a relatively new vehicle for a heavily depreciated ultra-luxury sedan?
>Really, it was just Rare Find living up to his name...
>Most people don't even know about the Phaeton, let alone see one every day.
>And he wanted to add it to his collection.
>And then there was you.
>Why would you bet your ride home?
>It's not like it was a bet you couldn't afford to lose, and at worst you could hitch a ride with someone from your crew.
>Maybe even hitch a ride with the Lovebirds.
>"Show your hands".
>The first to reveal was Rare, who presented pocket aces.
>And then you, with pocket tens.
>This did not bode well for you.
>The turn came up, another king.
>Community cards were still in Rare's favor.
>A smile crept upon his face.
>He was one card away from victory.
>One card away from getting a new rare car in his garage.
>The River however...



>"Winner is... Quad tens".
>By some miracle, you won the hand.
>Looking back at Rare Find, he was displeased, to say the least.
>However, he took it all in stride.
>He walked around the table to shake your hand.
>"Well played, Anon".
>You had to compliment him, he actually made the much smarter move.
>But Texas Hold'em was one of those brutal games that rewards idiotic moves and punishes smart ones.

>A few hands later, you figured it was time to leave the table yourself, you came away with a healthy stack.
>You also had to get the title for the Jag signed over to you.
"You sure you're willing to do this? I don't mind giving it back".
>"Don't worry about it, worst case, I gotta spend an extra day here. Enjoy your spoils".
>In the meantime, it was time to order a flatbed.
>You'll handle the insurance and registration when you get home...
>Or you can not bother and just keep it on your property while you work on getting rid of it.

>About an hour later, after saying your goodbyes and getting your gun back, you got ready to leave.
>As India's finest was being flatbedded, Capper and his driver pulled up to you in a Toyota Land Cruiser.
>A very simple vehicle for someone of his status, but it helped him lay low.
>"Congrats on your prize, Anon".
"Thank you, sir. Although I don't think I'll be keeping it".
>It would require the rest of your prize money alone to run it.
>"If you got a special someone in your life, maybe you should gift it".
"You know what, that's a fine idea..."
>Vinyl's into British cars anyways, she'd like this.

>Capper's vehicle pulled out.
>Just before he could make it to the end of the street, a panel van screeched to halt in front of them.
>They honked, and then suddenly there was gunfire.
>You dropped to the ground, trying to stay out of line of sight of the gunmen.
>When you got a better idea where the shooting was coming from, you took out your own Hi-Power, and crawled there.



>As you got closer, you got a better idea of how the situation was playing out.
>There were four gunmen wielding AR type rifles.
>For some reason, they weren't moving forward.
>Between volleys, the four men were yelling to each other in a language you couldn't make out.
>It sounded Middle Eastern, but definitely wasn't Arabic.

>Now that you knew where the shooting was coming from, you got on your feet, remaining crouched and using other cars as cover.
>It was time to get proper into the action.
>You got one of them in your line of sight, a masked man, and you caught him on the reload.
>He realized it, and you looked each other in the eyes.
>As he shouted some sort of profanity, you let him have one.
>You put a 9mm into his shoulder, and he dropped his rifle.
>As he reached for his sidearm, the back of his head busted open.
>When that happened, the others retreated back into their van, and drove off.

>You approached Capper's SUV, the windshield and side windows were rendered icy white from the barrage of bullets applied to it.
>But there was no indication of penetration.
>Meanwhile, Autumn, and your boy Bulk ran to the end of the street to chase down the van, and they continued to shoot at it.
>You called out to them.
"Autumn, stay there and secure that sector! Bulk, secure the other side!"
>He ran to the other end of the street.
>"Clear!"
>You looked behind you one last time, holstered your weapon, and then you opened up Capper's door.
"Ahh!"
>He was perfectly fine, completely untouched.
"Capper, boss, are you okay? Do you need medical attent-"
>"Anon, my boy, you and your crew did spectacularly under pressure! ...Now please stop looking at me like that, it's making me rather uncomfortable".
>Pretty soon, someone else called out to you.
>"You'd better go check on that".



>Near the entrance of the restaurant, you found the man calling for medical aid.
>It was Rare Find, he had been shot in the torso.
"Ah fuck! Everyone, back away, give him some air!"
>First thing you did was apply pressure to his wound.
>His bimbo date interjected.
>"Should I lift his legs?"
>Oh dear God, no...
"Absolutely not, fucking... Does anyone have any gauze!"
>"AHOH!"
>It was Vadim, tossing you a black bag.
>The bag was a first aid kit.
"SPASIBO!"
>Then you could get to work.
>You were able to stop his bleeding, but he was still in great pain.
>That was when you got a very unorthodox idea.
"Discord!"
>"You don't need to shout, Anon, that's the last thing he needs".
>He was right behind you.
"Discord, I need something to ease this guy's pain, you got anything?"
>"I'll see what I can do".
>Hopefully he'll come back with an opioid of some sort.

>Just before you could start dressing his wounds, Discord returned.
>"All I have is this".
>It was an eight ball of blow, and a bottle of whiskey.
>Time to make lemonade.

>You emptied the packet of nose candy into Rare's wound.
>It's not medically sound, but it should be able to numb the area where he was shot.
>Wallflower helped you to dress his wound.
>As for calming him down...
"Drink, your life is depending on it... Does anyone know where he can get some more comprehensive medical care?"
>"I just got in touch with Doc Top, we can get an ambulance here in ten minutes".
>"Just to let you know, he's going to be charging double his usual rate for this!"
>Treating criminals has cut into the good doctor's sleep schedule, you don't blame him.
>Between swigs of hooch, Rare Find spoke to you.
>"Anon, thanks for saving me".
"You got more luck on the streets than you do at the felts".
>"Heh!"
>Well, he'd be luckier if he didn't get shot.
>Soon he fell asleep, in a drunken stupor.
>What a lightweight.



>Not too long after, an unmarked Sprinter van pulled up.
>It was the 'ambulance' they summoned.
>They had their own crew to get the lad onto a stretcher, so your work was done.
>You took the liberty of handing a wad of C-notes over to the ambulance crew.
>This night already cost this poor bastard enough.

>As the van departed, you felt a hand on your shoulder.
>It was Capper.
>"That's the leadership I'm talkin' about".
>Now you're starting to curse how well you handled that situation.
>You know what they say, if there's a job you don't like, don't be good at it.
>Meanwhile, Vadim got out of his car to investigate the stiff.
>Bulk put a .50AE into his head, there wasn't much left to ID him.
>But Vadim had an idea who the attackers were.
>It was really a hunch at most, but a good hunch.
>"I think I've got my own investigation to conduct".

>It was a long drive home, enough time to clear your head.
>You were going to sleep good tonight

>Sunday that week, you found yourself in church again, thanking the Good Lord that you were allowed to live this long.
>You also prayed for the prolonged delay of your little mission.
>You weren't quite ready to go to Hell just yet.

>After Mass, you ran into Vinyl again.
>Just like before, she was dressed traditionally, having come back from her own service.
>Trying to remain cordial, you tried to take her hand to kiss it.
>But then Vinyl jumped up and hugged you.
>Hoping just for this, you hugged her back, lifting her off her feet.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you again!"
>"My dad told me about what happened, I'm so happy you weren't hurt!"



>Soon the two of you were back in your car.
>Which today was the old Quattro.
>Along the drive you asked her how much you owed Vadim for the first aid kit.
>"Pssh..."
>With a wave of her hand she dismissed your minor concern.
>The things were about $50 a pop anyways, despite having Mercedes' logo on it.
>"If anything, that Rare Find guy owes my dad".

>You drove back to Vadim's café where you first had lunch together.
>It was a pleasant little meal, just like last time.
>For the most part, you just shot the shit.
>"My dad was very impressed with you, by the way".
"What, that little bit of bullshit back in New York? It was nothing, I'm pretty sure he's faced worse".
>And so have you.
>You also mentioned you met Autumn and Churka back in NYC.
>"Hey, the Churk! How was he doing? He wasn't still mad I pointed a gun at him, was he?"
"Trust me, he's long forgiven you..."
>You didn't want to mention how 'honored' he felt, you didn't want to make him out to be a sycophant.
"And Autumn, what's she doing these days, still working?"
"Harder than ever, it seemed".
>It was a lovely time, just like any other with Vinyl.
>But you had a lot on your mind, and Vinyl could tell.
>"Hey, you alright?"
>You didn't want to bring up your troubles to a pleasant lunch, but you had to get it off your chest.
"I've got a feeling I'm not long for this world..."

>Obviously you couldn't get into the details of the operation, you never know who could be listening in.
>All she needed to know was that it was going to be a dangerous job.
>"And you can't opt out of it?"
"It's not like can say no to my boss..."



>Soon after, you were on your way.
>Vinyl saw you out.
"Well... I guess this is goodbye. Hopefully not for good".
>She grabbed you by your shoulders, and lifted herself up so her face could meet yours.
>Then she kissed you, a little peck on the lips.
>You weren't exactly sure what possessed you to continue like this, but you couldn't help it.
>Gently, you grabbed her by her waist, brought her in, and returned the kiss.
>You went just a little bit harder though.
>Not quite dancing of tongues hard, but it was enough to make her blush.
>As you broke the kiss, she looked away, bashfully, trying to retreat into her coat like she was a turtle.
>Adorable, as always.
>Somewhat unexpectedly, she hugged you again, putting her head into your chest.
>She put her ear against your body.
>"I pray to God you come back to me in one piece, that I'll get to hear this heartbeat again..."
>Running your fingers through her hair, you thought to yourself about how grateful you were to have met her.
>You finally found something positive to live for...
>For once in a very long time, your life wasn't defined in opposition to something.
>You wanted to live, for her...
"If I make it through this, we can all celebrate at my place, you and your father".
>"He'd love that!"
>It was then you realized that you had a very valuable ace up your sleeve.
>And that was when you posed her a question.
"Hey Vinyl..."
>"Hmm?"
"Where does your dad get his armored limo fixed after action packed nights?"
>She stepped back, and pondered for a moment.
>"You know what, just let me know when you need your car fixed, and bring it over".
"He'd allow that?"
>"He really does like you, anyways, what kind of car do you have that's armored?"
>Scoffing at her question, you responded.
"If I make it out, you'll see, even your dad will be impressed by it".



>Finally, the day came.
>Churka himself came to see you at the casino.
>He handed you a note, letting you know where to find them when you were done with work.
"Thanks kid..."

>Later, you were on your lunch break, having your usual.
>It would've been a nice last meal, until a certain pervert showed up.
>"Anon! How's it going? You still seeing the DJ?"
"I may be... Hopefully..."
>"Ha! What's the matter, think she's cheating on you already?"
>Anywhere else, any other time, you would've smacked her for basically calling Vinyl a whore.
>But then you got an idea.
"Hey Gilda, you interested in making an extra buck?"

>The two of you clocked out of work early, and drove back to your cottage.
>You reassured Gilda that whatever penalties would be incurred would be more than compensated for after this job.

>When you arrived, you dropped Gilda off at your front door.
>"Great place here!"
"Go into the kitchen and help yourself to a drink, I gotta get a few things..."
>"Don't mind if I do!"
"A SINGLE drink, mind you, we got work to do..."
>You drove your Quattro into the garage and parked it.
>Then you made your way over into the hidden corridor, to access your hidden garage...

>Meanwhile, Gilda was back into the lobby of your house with a beer in her hand.
>She was enjoying herself.
>"Anon, you are livin' the life..."
>Then she caught a glimpse of the massive vehicle you were pulling up in.



>"What the fuck?!"
>She ran out to go meet you, this she absolutely had to see.
>"Anon, what the fuck is this? You've been holding out on me!"
>It was the Crown Jewel of your automotive collection.
>The Mercedes-Maybach G650 Laundalet.
>Armored by Klassen.
>Tuned by Brabus.
>It actually wasn't a laundalet anymore, you had the soft back replaced with an armored shell.
>You also kept all the original badging.
"Go wait in the car, I gotta get something".
>And that something was coming out of the armory...

>You came back out with an AR rifle, some loaded mags, and a Samsonite briefcase full of counterfeit currency.
>As you got into the driver's seat, you handed them off to Gilda.
>"What in the fuck are we doing tonight?"
"Don't you worry, it'll be worth your while..."

>Autumn and Churka were a little ways away.
>But even then, it was a pleasant ride.
>Gilda was quite fond of your comfy little tank.
>"I never took you for a G-Wagen kinda guy, what made you buy this?"
"You remember when we were rolling with those First Recon boys?"
>"Uh huh".
"When they let me behind the wheel of one of those IFAVs, I fell in love... When I learned it was a G-Wagen, I knew I had to get one..."
>"Brings ya back, doesn't it?"
>In a way, it does.
>Actually, you even named it after your fallen friend, Big Mac.
>You didn't have that many happy memories from your time in the service, but that was one of them.
>"By the way, these doors are fucking thick, and heavy... Is this armored?"
"Level eight ballistic protection, first of its type".
>"Fucking shit! What're you defending against, The Bratva?"
>You don't think you could protect yourself from Vadim with your own fucking army.



>Finally, you made it to the rally point.
>It was the parking lot of a gas station.
>You found Churka's black C300 and pulled up next to him.
>As you did so, Autumn put her window down, and gazed upon the majesty of your massive, hyper-luxury SUV.
>"Holy shit! Anon, what is that?!"
>"Christ Almighty, I knew I was going to get carmogged, but holy fuck!"
>And then Gilda stepped out.
>"Oh my God, GILDA!"
>Then like a couple of schoolgirls, Autumn and Gilda skipped and hugged one another.
>Actually, it was Autumn doing most of the 'skipping', but whatever, it was sappy.
>"How are you doing? I haven't seen you since, well..."
>"Your cute little boyfriend here almost getting yote by the fucking Stripes?"
"You know about those guys?"
>"I used to buy my shit from them".
>No surprises there.
>The only thing that surprised you was how small the world was.
>Now it was time to get down to business.
"Alright, Delivery Boy, what's happening?"
>The kid took out a folder, with a detailed plan of the building.
"Boy, you guys really came prepared..."
>"Here's the plan..."
>It seemed simple enough, it involved you doing business with them to keep them distracted.
>All the while, Autumn is supposed to be going all commando destroying all their product.
"How do you plan on-".
>And then he opened up his trunk.
>Explosive devices of all types.
>"You wanna get the job done, or do you wanna be done with the job?"
"I know most of that's pretty stable, but be careful on bumps".

>There was one glaring problem with this whole plan.
>You might be going up against a bunch of negroids, but they weren't going to be stupid enough to just let you waltz in to buy drugs.
>Gilda, however...



>She tapped on the paper, where the address was indicated.
>"I know exactly where this is, and I know this building".
>"You know them well?"
>"You bet your cute little tush I do!"
>Great, Gilda's got eyes for the Churk.
>You moved the conversation along to keep Autumn from having to kick ass.
"Got any qualms about cracking skulls?"
>"I'll just buy my blow from you guys, no biggie".

>"So, are we ready to go?"
"Ready as I'll ever be".
>"Good, see you on the other side".
>Each of you hopped back into your vehicles, and you were off.

>Along the drive, you probed into why Gilda was hitting on Churka.
>And of course, warning her.
"I hope you know you're putting yourself in danger".
>"The kid's soft as baby shit, I could rape him so hard!"
>Sweet Jesus, girl...
"I was talking about Autumn, girl's a stone-cold killer!"
>"I live for those thrills".

>Some time later, when you about a stone's throw from the target...
>"Anon, stop here!"
>You pulled over onto the shoulder, rather annoyed.
"What is it?"
>"Lemme take the wheel, make these groids think it's mine, and that you work for me!"
>As much as you didn't like the idea of Gilda laying her grubby, STD ridden hands on your prized car, it was actually a good idea.
>Even if it was just an ego boost for her.
>You let her in on some of the details of the car, if any of the nogs asked.
>"Alright, when we get there, this is what you do..."



>Finally, you and Gilda pulled up to their traphouse.
>There were a couple of hoodrats standing outside in the parking lot.
>They looked rather confused at the very large SUV pulling up to their crib.
>"Holy shit".
>"Da fuck?"
>It looked like they were getting ready to pull guns on you.
>"Showtime, Anon".
>She hopped out first, carefully.
>Then you followed suit.
>"My boyz, whattup!?!"
>It was a good thing you hired her, she knew how to talk to these guys.
>You would've already started shooting, and dropping n-bombs.
>"Gilda! How the fuck you doin? Fuckin' nice G-Wagon you gots there!"
>"How you got dat?"
>"Hustlin' and pimp shit, learned from the best".
>Now that you're thinking about it, she's of the Tribe...
>What is it with Jews and black culture?

>You had enough listening to ebonics, it was time to get to business.
"I hate to interrupt, but I've got business".
>"Step right in mah nigguh, you cool with Gilda, you cool wit us".
>Not exactly a crack security team here.
>Soon, Gilda got busy showing off your car...
>More and more of these mongrels were rushing outside to check it out.
>As thankful as you were that Gilda was keeping heat off you, the things she was doing with you car was bothering you like a motherfucker.

>Along the way, you got a glimpse into their drug producing operation, and the workers processing all the God knows what.
>Truth be told, it was an impressive operation.



>The closer you got to their queen bee, the harder and more competent the men guarding her office seemed to get.
>At the final door leading to her office, you were greeted by a large, scarred, crime-hardened, no-nonsense brute.
>The scarring on his neck and lower face suggest he was tortured, possibly with fire.
>"Sup nigga".
"How ya doing?"
>"You here to do business?"
>"I'm dressed for it, aren't I?"
>With a nod, he stepped aside.
>But just before you could turn the doorknob, you felt a hand on your shoulder.
>"Ya girl Gilda might be alright with me, but I don't know what you're about..."
"So you'll keep your eye on me? Is that right?"
>Then he put out his other hand.
>And in his hand, you placed your Hi-power.
>"Nice piece, don't go startin' shit".

>Well, you thought you were in, but you still had several bead curtains to get through before entering her office.
>You took a quick look around, her little domicile was quite interesting.
>The place was decorated with traditional African art, much of it looking fresh from the motherland.
>Africa wasn't a place you were well acquainted with (despite spending some time in Chad), but you would guess that much of it was West and Sub-Saharan.
>You were really in the belly of the beast now.
>Finally, you made it to her desk, where she was writing something down.
>Politely, you addressed her.
"Miss Zecora..."
>She looked up, away from her notes, and greeted you.
>"Mister Anonymous".
>Oh no...
>After a moment's hesitation, you responded.
"You know who I am?"
>She chuckled, and continued.
>"Of all the competition I've ever had, none have ever surpassed you and your lads".
>She stood, and approached you.
>"You properly see me as a threat, just for that, we are already well met".
>Oh brilliant, she speaks in rhymes.
>Most people wouldn't have expected a bunch of negroes to uphold such a complex operation.
>Let alone have it be successful for this long.
>Then again, not having absolute adoration for these melanin enriched mongrels was considered "racist", a label which every authority figure was afraid of receiving.
>With the playing field being made that lopsided for her, it was a bit generous to call Zecora the next Frank Lucas.
>But still, she was smarter than your average bear, and even less forgiving from what you've heard.



>Before any business could be done, she gave you a short tour of her office.
>She gave you all the details about her collection of artifacts.
>With all the explanations, you got a better idea of her origins.
>As it turned out, she was descended from a long line of slavers.
>And she wasn't any different from her ancestors, she just had a different approach to things.
>"I give them powder, and they give me power. It is a relationship most beneficial".
>Well, for one party anyways.
>No coercion required.

>Just before you could start "negotiations", you examined a bit of her more contemporary collectibles.
>One of which, to your curiosity, was a Spirit of Ecstasy from a Rolls-Royce.
>Just looking at it was raising your blood pressure.
>It reminded you of that horrible night, the saddest shift you ever had as a paramedic.
>Could it be?
"Miss Zecora, if you don't mind my asking, why do you have a Flying Lady?"
>With a rather somber sigh, she walked to the glass cased ornament.
>"My men had went to claim for me a car, but alas, my boy Mamadou, had gone too far..."
>It was that night Zecora sent her goons out to find a car to steal.
>Something nice and exotic.
>And of all the cars they could've taken, of anyone that could've gotten carjacked, Octavia got unlucky.
>Her boy, this "Mamadou", the man who let you into her office, was one of the men that decided to have his way with her.
>And you already didn't like him.
>Suddenly, you felt Zecora very close to you.
>Next thing you realized she had her hands below your chin, and then began to gently caress your neck.
>All while slightly scratching you.
>You weren't sure if she was trying to arouse or threaten you.
>"What he did aroused my ire! So for him, I took out the tire..."
>She had the man necklaced, which explained the burn scars.
>But for his heinous acts, he deserved much worse.
>And thankfully for you, your chance to deliver justice would come soon.
>Sooner than you'd expect.



>Before the African temptress could get even feelier with you, a shockwave tore itself through the room, knocking the two of you to the floor.
>Drawers, artifacts, and papers all fell to the floor and were scattered.
>Zecora fell on top of you, and looked at you dumbfounded.
>She pushed herself off of you, marched to her desk, and took out a gun.
>At first you thought you were about to die...
>She looked down to you for a moment, then she stormed out of her office.
>That was strange.
>And it was a relief, but you still had a situation on your hands.
>The first thing you did was collect the Flying Lady, as it was now out of its display.
>Next, you quickly perused through Zecora's desk, and took her notebook.
>It was a collection of contacts and recipes, perhaps for heroin production, maybe other drugs.
>This could be pretty damn useful, it was her specialty after all.
>Now it was time to find this Mamadou fella, get your gun, and give him what's coming to him.

>You collected what you needed, grabbed a pipe off the floor, and looked for the big negro.
>Rushing out of Zecora's office, he was the first man you came across.
>Being smarter than most melanin enriched folk, he was able to make an educated guess on who had something to do with the explosions earlier.
>Of course, he was rather irate with you.
>But not nearly as much as you were with him.
>As soon as you locked eyes, you saw his turn from anger, to fear.
>You charged at him, screaming as you did so.
>He tried to reach for the gun he confiscated from you, but you bashed him good in the head before he could do so.
>The big African man fell to the ground, belly down, and the back of his pants is where you found your trusty Hi-power.
>You grabbed it before he could roll himself around, then you let him have one in the thigh.
>He screamed as the 9mm went into his leg.
"That one's for Vinyl..."
>You fired another one into his crotch.
>And after a high pitched screech, you knew you hit his goods.
"That one's for Octavia!"
>Finally, you fired a shot into his throat to silence him.
"And that one's for me".
>Seriously, his screaming was grinding on your ears.



>Finding the shortest route out of the building, you went right out the way you came.
>With the fire alarm blaring, gangsters and workers alike were mired in pandemonium, running too and fro, panicking.
>So far, you've been unopposed.
>Until one of the mongrels swung open the door before you.
>Thankfully you had the drop on him.
>You popped two rounds into the hoodlum's torso, and one into his head.
>Completing the Mozambique Drill.
>Or as some would call it, the Djibouti Shooty.
>You'd think by this point you'd be home free, right?
>But there was no one around, even Gilda seems to have made off with the G-Wagen.
"Fucking Jewish nigger, if she made off with my shit I'll stick a Menorah up her ass!"
>Suddenly you heard a series of loud pops, and dropped to the ground thinking it was a machine gun.
>Then you saw Churka and Autumn zip off in the C-class, surprisingly fast you might add.
>Before you could call out to them to request a pickup, they were followed by a black and white Lamborghini supercar.
>That was probably Zecora.
>All you could do was watch helplessly as they drove off.
"FUCK!"
>"Ayo, dere da nigga is!"
"Ah shit".
>You flipped onto your back and saw the two men walking to you, each wielding a gun.
>And you had dropped yours when you fell to the ground.
>"Heinous ass white boi startin' shiet".
>"Pick a body part, homie!"
>Were these niggers really going to be your travel agents to Hell?
>Is this how you were going to perish?
>Suddenly, salvation.



>Illuminated by the headlights, the two gunmen began shooting its way.
>Unable to stop it, the large vehicle drove into them, crashing and crushing them against the wall.
>As the vehicle stopped, and the 900 HP engine gurgled while idling, Gilda opened up the door.
"Holy shit!"
>"You didn't think I was going to leave my old corpsman behind, did ya?"
>Semper Fi, and all that good shit.
>But before you could hop in.
>"GET DOWN!"
>And then your face was back against the pavement.
>And you dropped your gun again.
>Two volleys of gunfire, followed by the chime of spent shell casings, sounded off before you.
>You got up, looked back, and saw two more negroids fallen to the ground.
"Good shooting, Gilda!"
>You picked up your gun, and hopped in.
"Scoot over, Shiksa, you've had your fun".
>That soured her mood, but she obliged, and worked her bum over the gearbox.
>She still got to hold the gun, someone had to shoot, and you were going to be chased soon.
>You put the vehicle in reverse, and caught a few more bandits in the reverse camera.
>Target fucking acquired!
>You floored it, and ran them all over.
>If your glorious chariot didn't weigh several tons you probably would've felt that.
>And if you were being honest, it would've felt good.
>Putting the car into gear, you burned rubber and you got the hell out of that nig-hole as fast as the bespoke engine could take you.

>You weren't out of dodge just yet, they were still after you.
>Funny you thought of it that way, because you were being pursued by a hodge-podge formation of Chargers, Challengers, and Hellcats.
>And a couple of Chrysler 300s to boot, which was hardly surprising.
>They were being led by a Bentley Bentayga and a Lamborghini Urus, likely being driven by some of Zecora's higher up goons.
>As much power as there was in this shinebox, it was far too heavy to outrun these guys for long.



>Before long they were well within effective shooting distance.
>"Can this fucking thing go any faster?"
"It's shaped like a brick, and got a shit ton of armor strapped to it, that's a lot to ask!"
>And they started shooting.
>"Motherfuckers..."
"Hold it, we're not in that much danger yet".
>She was already prepared to shoot these guys, as if she wasn't just hooning with them a minute ago.
>Then again, she was of Semitic origin, you wouldn't put it past her to discard friends so easily.
>Soon enough though, your car was going to be pelted with bullets.
>"Can I start waxing these guys?"
>Then one pulled up next to you, spraying your window with an Uzi fruitlessly.
>You shoved him aside and drove him off an upcoming bridge.
>Another came up wielding an AK rifle and tried the same thing on the starboard side.
>You rammed him, drove him into a ditch and made him eat shit.
>And this was going to continue until it was only the Urus and the Bentayga left.
"I think you've done your part".
>Soon, however, your armor was about to be tested.
>Several deep strikes could be heard coming from the rear.
>One of them actually penetrated.
"What the fuck?"
>Looking back into a rear camera, one of them was wielding a .50 calibre rifle.
"Resourceful fuckers, use the sunroof, Gilda!"
>With a big, toothy grin, she took the Heckler and Koch up, and starting shooting again.

>She took out the gunman, so there were going to be no more AP rounds coming your way.
>At least not for now.
>"Re-mag me Anon! Gonna take out Lambo boy!".
>You handed her a fresh magazine, and she got back to working over the Urus.
>Before they could try to rear-end you, Gilda put a 5.56 in the driver's head.
>With no one at the helm, it soon veered off onto the shoulder and into another ditch.
"Good shooting, Gilda!"



>Finally, all you had was the Bentley on your tail.
"Let's see if we can lose this guy".
>"Why lose him? If we can kill him now, why not do it?"
>If you were listening, you definitely would've considered it.
>But enough people have died today, it was time to lose this guy.
>You found a dirt road and turned off into it.
>Taking a quick stop...
>"Anon, what are you doing?"
>You pressed the buttons to lock the differentials.
>Then you put it into low range gear reduction mode, then you stormed back off again.
>Just before the Bentayga could ram you.
"Wooo!"
>Now you were reminded why you bought this.
>In just about any other vehicle, you probably would've hated this.
>But with a luxuriously smooth vehicle like this, the excitement could be tempered with a little comfort.
>Even Gilda noticed how much fun you were having.
>"Just like old times, huh Anon?"
"Just like old times!"
>If only Big Mac was around to enjoy this with you.
>Well, minus the fact that you were engaged in gang warfare.
>Another few minutes of powering through the dirt roads, making leaps and bounds through the heaps of soil, the niggas in the Bentayga were out of sight.
>Finally, you had a moment to relax.
>As you finally stopped to catch your breath, you started to laugh.
>Soon enough, you were hysterical.
>"Calm your nips, Anon, it's nothing you haven't experienced before".



>She was right, you had to calm yourself down.
>Now where was the humidor in this damn thing?
>Soon as you found where your quick access stash of stoges were, you lit up, and took a drag.
>And then you filled the car full of smoke.
"Ahhh, fuck, sorry about that".
>"I forgive ya, if you let me take a drag of that..."
>You handed the Rocky Patel Number 6 over, and let her have at it.

>After a bit of hotboxing, you lowered the windows, it was time to get back to business.
"Hey Gilda, do me a favor and get Autumn and Delivery Boy on the horn".
>"Yeah, I don't know their number".
"Fucking..."
>Chomping on your stoge, you went into your car's infotainment system, and tried to call them from there.
>You dialed the number, and the call went through.
>"Hello?"
"Delivery Boy? It's Anon, wanna know if you guys made it out okay".
>Autumn intervened.
>"Do we sound like we're in trouble?"
>Guess that's a yes.
"Are you on a secure line?"
>"My phone? Nah, but Autumn's is though, I'll have her call you".
"Gotcha... oh, and I'm gonna have to see what you've got under that hood, you were out of there pretty qu-".
>Suddenly your cigar burst into bits of tobacco leaf right in front of your face.
"MOTHERFUCKER!"
>Your car was then pelted with gunfire again, and you drove off.
>Attempting to get the windows back up, a heavy caliber round struck it as it was halfway up.
>It was a .50 caliber round, and it was a miracle and a half that the glass stopped it.



"FUCK!"
>Persistent little bastards.
>As you drove to try to get away, you got the call from Autumn.
>"Hey Nonny! How's it going?"
"Armor protection compromised, still engaged!"
>"Do you need help?"
>"No we don't!"
"What!?"
>Next thing you realized, the pimps were back on your starboard side, with their big rifle sticking out their window.
>The muzzle was inches away from the door, ready to burst Gilda's skull open like a watermelon.
"What the fuck are you-"
>Kicking the door open, she knocked the barrel away, and it discharged into the A-pillar.
>With Tyrone caught off guard, and his gun jammed, Gilda let them have it.
>She emptied the mag into the cabin.
>And then the engine powered down, as if the niggon's foot was off the throttle, and you overtook them.
>"Hello, Hellooooo?"
>Autumn was still on the horn.
"I think she's got them, cancel that last request".
>"Don't be so sure, Anon..."
"Hmm?"
>You stopped the car, and backed up.
>Before you could stop again, Gilda hopped out, and kept her gun trained on the Stripes' car.
"Goddam-, Autumn, can I call you back?"
>"Don't die!"
>You put the tank in park, hopped out, un-holstered your Hi-Power, and followed Gilda.
>As you approached the Bentayga, it's engine still purred as it was never turned off.
>"Anon, get the door".
>You did as she said and opened the driver's door.
>And out plopped the body of the driver, and his .50 cal rifle.
>There was no sign of life left in this Congo Dandy.
>The other, however...
>He groaned and struggled to aim his gun at the two of you.
>A three-shot burst handled him for good.



"Looks like we-".
>"Check the back!"
>The inner Marine in her came up, good lass.
>Going to the back, you prepared to open up the tailgate.
"Ready Gilda?"
>"On three... THREE!"
>You opened up, and of course, no one and nothing, except for some Sprite, and various pills and medications.
>"CLEAR!"
"Yeah, I can see that. And stop shouting, you're not in the Marines anymore".
>Still, she stood tense, rifle trained towards the back of the ultra-luxury SUV.
"At ease, Sargent!"
>She lowered her rifle, and calmed down.
>"Sorry Anon, my mind went back into military mode..."
"That probably just saved your life, unfortunately".
>"Heh.."
>Gilda stood by and squared up the derelict SUV.
>She seemed to take a liking to it, as if she wanted one for herself.
>That gave you an idea.
>But first things first, you had to call Autumn back.
>You holstered your gun, then went back to your car to get Autumn back on the horn.
>One ring later.
>"Anon!"
"Hey Autumn, we survived, barely... Where are you two?"
>They described the location to you, some place on a hill where young couples liked to park to make out, and the gas station not too far from it.
"I know exactly where you are, and I'll be there soon".
>"Uhh, Anon, I don't think we're out of trouble yet..."
"Shit... Just... Give me a moment".
>Walking back to Gilda, you wanted to know what the hold-up was.
>"Anon, I don't think we're on neutral territory here..."
"What the fuck is that supposed to- Oh no..."
>Then you saw it, several backwoods militia types all had their weapons trained on you.