Franco doesn’t like communism, as well. Complete capitalism is a shit system because it thrives by making people stay as peasant, to make money valuable, to make the socialites valuable. Communism, however, is a utopia holding a thin thread. If the government falls on the wrong hands, everybody perishes.
And the sound of the government owning everything is a bit… dangerous. Right?
Especially if the Government would be whatever this group is.
Franco went to the secluded headquarters in the secluded subdivision in the secluded town of Manhattan. He greeted everyone good morning, and only Jacques decided to reply with a snarl.
“What happened about us, Jacques? I believed you.” Franco said calmly.
Jacques returned his composure into a smile when the higher communists slowly entered the meeting room they are in. “I’m still the same man, Franco. I still think about the future of America. You might not understand this, but sometimes, we need to make heavy decisions for the good of the many.”
(What a faker. Nobody would fall for that.) Franco thought.
“And that is exactly what I’m looking for a leader. Someone who can make decisions.” Said the communist leader who came with the same power (and outfit) as yesterday. His suit is sharp, added by his straight and rigid composure. His face is straight and emotional as always, but his eyes show amusement.
(You couldn’t have possibly fell for that. I don’t want this man on any government position.)
The leader—which is a Middle-aged Caucasian man in two piece suit and slicked back hair—is the poster child of military upbringing. And Franco swears on his missing Italian mafia grandfather, Militarization is the last thing America needs. Also, he’s a bit dumb.
“Good morning, sir.” Jacques greeted the leader. Franco only nodded.
The man smiled. “What of our prisoner?”
One of the torturers responded. “He’s not talking sir.”
“About what?” Franco asked.
“About his sister’s whereabouts. Surely, you missed because you left very early yesterday.”
Franco shrugged, his eyes widen in sarcasm and a hint of i-really-can’t-take-you-anymore-Jacques kind of emotion.
“Well, that makes sense.”
The communist leader took the lead to the room reserved for a tied-up young master Quinn, who Franco could only hope they have fed at least. They flooded the room and spread evenly around Quinn. The light is adequate for everybody to be seen, because unlike what Franco expected, the room is not a stereotype interrogation/torture room. It is a bit decent, save for the tied young man in the middle of it with his own blood spluttered around him and on his white polo shirt.
“Good morning, lowlife idiots.” Quinn smirked to them, especially facing the communist leader.
“I will keep this short.” Replied the communist leader, unfazed. “If you don’t disclose Jean Hampton’s whereabouts, we might have to kill you now.”
Quinn laughed. “Like I have said for the nth time, she’s dead.”
“We know she’s Julia McKlein.” Jacques interjected. “Where is she now?”
Quinn shrugged minimally as the restrain stop him from moving any further. “I killed her again.” He said with a manic smile and followed it with the same manic laugh.
“Well then,” The communist leader stepped forward to level Quinn’s bloody face, “We will make sure it’s not a quick death.” He retracted himself from that position and faced towards the exit. “How about giving a little favor for our fellow communists here. You would hate that. With. All. Your. Bones.”
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Tensions and Attentions
Humor[Completed, new upload] [Book 2 of Bro of my Life] In the High Society Upper East Side of New York, tensions happen. Quinn is a pompous, bratty, and genius capitalist, while Franco is a simple political advisor/activist who just wants to punch his f...
