This Is England » Freddie Highmore

80.

IT TOOK them awhile to get ahold of their inventory, and the only one who was throwing a severe bitch fit was Dameon. When Evan, his head henchman, would track the items, he would immediately report back to his boss; informing him that they have another week to arrive.

One would think that, when someone is in a gang, that the members immediately have access to their necessities. That is, in fact, true -- only it's not for The Devil's Convicts. That factor had its point proven for LFOUR and the stereotypical wannabe gangs residing in the realms of the European country.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Dameon snarled. "I told them to bring our shit in under a matter of days! It shouldn't  take this bloody long for these things to arrive!" He tossed a foldable chair across the room, startling Evan and the other henchman.

"Sir?" Evan tried. Dameon whipped his head to the other male, a stern look resting on his face.

"What?!" Dameon barked. It was clear to everyone that the leader of the group was beyond pissed -- he was outraged.

"I-I-I --" Evan stammered, his hands quivering.

Dameon slapped him hard across the face, and then proceeded to follow the assault by punching him in the stomach; causing the younger male to groan.

"If you are going to say something, you should just fuckin' say it!" Dameon spat on Evan's face. "Bloody fucking Hell!"

He then stormed off, leaving the rest of the group to be dumbfounded.

"What do we do now?" one of the men asked.

Evan, now accompanied by a bloody nose, sat up on his elbow. He took a deep breath, and wiped his reddened nose.

"We conduct the war ourselves." he said. "I'll work on getting our weapons to arrive faster, and you all just try to keep Shrek calm. When all is ready, I will let Dameon know meself."

The men all agreed. And then they left, leaving Evan to solemnly pick up the pieces.

..

One thing to know about conducting a battle was that you had to meticulously plan on how you were going to kill your target. For Evan, he knew exactly how Dameon and the rest of the Convicts were going to attack. He's been around his leader for so long that he can practically think like him.

After numerous phone calls to Harvey, their supplier of weaponry, Evan managed to get the items delivered into the Convicts' warehouse. He opened each package carefully; examining each item in caution. Resting in each crate, were guns, gernades, different sorts of knives and of course, Dameon's favorite: Dynamite.

He picked up a few sticks of Dynamite and nodded to himself.

"Dameon?" He called to his boss.

Dameon, who was currently getting a blow job by one of the henchman (he was too lazy to go out and find a girl; so one of the lads that tried to take Freddie's brother, Bertie did the trick -- after all, he was a fag), tilted his head back on his bed.

"WHAT?!" Dameon roared from upstairs.

Evan bit his lip, then called back. "CALL UP HIGHMORE," he hollered.

He took out a knife and smirked to himself, feeling accomplished at the task he had completed.

"We have a long overdue chat to take care of..."

...