Chapter 2: Massacre (1)
"Hehe, Found you~"
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In a building, the opposite end of town, was a workplace. An office building, to be precise. Made of dull, grey concrete outside and with simple fake wood floors. The walls coated in a sky-blue paint. The workspaces were just lines upon lines of separated desks. On each desk there was just a few things, a phone, a computer, and a stack of papers.
(A/N: Like Wolf of Wall Street)
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Ding Ding Ding!
At the sound of the bell, a chorus of groans and sighs flowed through the building.
"Urgh, goddammit, why are the shifts so long~"
"Yeah, I feel ya, Ricky. This shit seems to drag on."
"Huh? Fuck outta here, Andrew. You're getting promoted next month. Why are you complaining you asshole?"
"Teehee, I appreciate the compliment, Ricky~"
"... Never say 'teehee' EVER again..."
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This loser over on my side was Andrew, he was known as the loser of the office. Well, at least until I started beating up the people who talked shit about him. But, can you blame the lot, he really looks like a grade A loser. The glasses, spindly frame, and the slightly greasy long hair that goes back his head and down the sides in rivets of black. Thing is, he was almost 6 foot, so he always seemed built to be strong, until you really knew the guy.
Ah, now about me. I'm Ricky. The tallest, strongest and broadest man you'll ever meet. An 'alpha' male, if I do say so myself. Reaching an astonishing 6 foot and 6 inches, I towered over the competition. And with the gym, my shoulders were wide, and the model-like physique couldn't be hidden under my clothes. But, like everyone else I had a dark secret. Well, a little darker than theirs.
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*Buzz* *Buzz*
"Hey, Ricky, your phone's about to explode."
"Shut up, Andrew, its just the group chat." As I said that, I pulled out my phone to check what was really going on.
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[Can we take out The Flock soon? Respond ASAP.] | TIGER
[I would but I'm more interested in what you're doing, T.] | FOX
[Shut up, Fox, no-one asked for your opinion. Why should anyone know what I'm doing?] | TIGER
[Commandment 7: Do not withhold information that may lead to the the death of an individual.] | BOT
[So, you were saying?] | FOX
[Some kid is fucking with my sister. He's part of The Flock. They've been reaching into our turf more often now anyways, so I recommend we get rid of them. Two birds, one stone.] | TIGER
| FOX IS TYPING |
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Hmm, so they want to get rid of The Pigeons. It's been a while since we had any action anyways. Sounds like a plan.
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"Hey, Andrew, seems like the situations worse than I thought, I'll catch up with you later."
"Nah, no worries, Ricky. I'm used to your second life. Just tell me about it someday."
"... Yeah, someday..."
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Outside a nightclub. 2 people dressed in full black suits stood to guard. The remnants of music can be heard lingering outside the building. The windows flash with a spectrum of colours and fog rolls out the door. A taxi pulls up. A tall, hulking man in a white straitjacket comes out the car. Masked. On his face is the mask of a polar bear. The eyes emptied and the nose open to breathe. As soon as he is out, the cab immediately evacuates the scene.
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Ahhh, what a world we live in. Where a group of 5 is a bigger deal to the police than a gang of organised crime, practically glowing under the light of the moon. Hehe, well, not my problem. I'm here to bullshit and party.
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*Kchick*
The sound of a cassette tape begins to roll. And The Notorious B.I.G - Party and Bullshit, begins to play.
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"Hey, stop right there! Do you know who we are!?"
"..."
"Hey, freak, stop moving or you'll get it!"
"Hey, you basta- let's fuck him up!"
"Yeah, fuck this guy!"
"Say what?"
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The man's large hand wraps around the guards head. With a tight squeeze- *Crunch*. He is dead. The sound of blood spurts out the empty socket of his face. His eye leaving a silent splash upon impact with the floor. Brain matter gushed all over the white man's sleeve, staining his pure outfit a shade of red.