《Who is She? {B.T.}》4. 15(2)
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One day after the hit
If it's one thing about her father, he could be super easy to read. The only reason she knew this was because Serpentine taught her the basics, the facial expressions, down to the simple mannerisms. But besides that, Serpentine was trying to calm him but failing miserably. The grown man was only growing with anger, his hands gripping the air. "Drew, What's wrong?" Her father snapped his head towards his wife standing at the top of the staircase. She held her cheetah print robe closed as she raised her eyebrow to face the commotion downstairs. "He fucked us!" He shouted out, pointing his finger angrily at her mother. "F-U-C-K Fucked!!" "Wait, huh?" She sat up from her position on the couch, looking up at her mother then her father. "How?!" "He cut contact, he refused to give us the money" Her father was shaking as he paced around the room.
Now, she knew her father. He can't think rationally while he's angry, it's physically impossible for him to do so. "Baba, Breath" She makes her way over to him, "It's okay, we just need to call and talk to him right?" She turned to her other family members and they nodded alongside her. "Hand me the phone" Her mother walked down the staircase, hand held out for the flip phone. Her father handed her mother the phone, the room filled with anticipation as her mother dialed the number.
She put the phone on speaker as it rang, five long seconds before it finally picked up.
"Hello." It was him, he never answers his own phone.
"Ivan." Her mother said sternly, her voice had venom within it as she held her robe tightly.
"Lashawn, It's been awhile. Why are you calling my phone?" They could hear him tapping his finger on a table. "You people are truly just trouble"
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"You people?" Her mother scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Where is my money, Ivan?" She doesn't know why she felt her heart drop hearing her mother use his actual name. Only close known associates of the White Death know his name, the fact that her mother is so casually name dropping it made her nervous.
"Watch that tongue Lashawn," The man on the phone says sternly, his fist was heard slamming on a table. "Job was easy enough for you all, you don't need the ten" Her father snatches the phone from her mother in a rage filled fit. "You listen here! You will regret not giving us our money! Hand it over!"
"Will I?" He said amusely. "I never seen a bunch of ungrateful negros. Not all get paid a two million dollar deposit" The air was thick with tension, her father was gripping the phone. He could crush it if he wanted too. "Last chance." Her father squeezed those words out his teeth, the man on the phone only chuckled.
"Goodbye, Andrew."
The man hung up the phone, the family sat in silence. "Well, shit" Her Brother ran his hands through his hair. "The fuck now?" "Language" Her Mother says, turning to face her husband. "Andrew, Let it go. It's not worth it" She touches the side of his face, gazing up into his blue eyes. "Please." "..." He took a deep breath, pulling his wife closer by the waist. "Let's just go to bed, please" Lashawn nods, grabbing his arm and leading him upstairs to the bedroom.
She sat back on the couch, sinking into it. She couldn't believe it, they got fucked over. She dryly swallows, she couldn't stop thinking about him. He's probably laughing it up, laughing at them while drinking with his buddies. She grips her fist and stood up, walking over to the old vhs player. She goes through the old tapes and CDs, tossing the ones she didn't to the side until she found it. Tape number 1,000, Russian Blue.
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She plops the tape in the player and placed her back against the couch, it's been awhile, it really has. Nothing was really pushing her as of late, until now. See the white death knock all his opponents on the ground, the way he's still undefeated, and especially the way he fucked over her family.
Her green eyes stared at him fight, he was a brute, a titan. Her tongue ran across her lips, she was becoming intrigued by him. "Could you take him?" She heard the faint voice of her father say. "Soon." She mumbles underneath her breath, her hands cupping in front of her lap once again.
"Very very soon."
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The Fiasco
When you’ve seen as many catastrophes as I have, “disaster” becomes a relative term. Us perpetual kidnap victims get to hang our heads while waiting for the tights-wearing crowd to arrive. I'm extra special. Why? Because my only real power is being kept alive by constantly attracting insane events. That's me. Adam. The wrong guy in the wrong place, every single time. Sit back, grab your drink or drug of choice, and follow along as I hit some of the highlights. We'll start with Ted, a reporter with a scheme of petty revenge. We'll meet Alice, a psychopath with personality problems whose out to make babies or disembowel me. I'm never sure. We'll watch me fail at being a glorified field trip supervisor for a powered collage. There's a whole host of other heroes and villains along the way. At the end of this story about me and those suffering my presence, I'll end the world. Because that's the logical last step. Book 1 – The Fiasco in News (Complete, Cover) Book 2 – The Fiasco in School (Complete) Book 3 – The Fiasco in an Apocalypse (Incomplete, WIP)
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Makoto Henderson, neither Hero nor Villain he is but a human, neither good nor bad. Putting on a facade every day, hiding his true thoughts and lying like we all do. Not wanting to get shunned, not brave enough to voice his true intentions or ideas he is but another face in the mindless masses.What is someone like him going to do when he has the option to be someone else inside a Virtual Reality Game.Is he going to be a Saint? Demon? Or just his pure and untainted self not restrained by society and its rules?Azalon awaits!Warning: This is going to be my first story on here, mature language, gore and explicitly detailed deaths will be included so be warned.Sexual content with descriptive writing will also appear at a later date so if you can't handle it please skip this story.
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