If you happened to stumble upon this story, please note that it will remain unedited. As much of a mess it is from a professional standpoint, I cherish and wish to preserve my writing from years ago.
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My half-dead alarm clock rings it's torturous chime, forcing me up and out of bed. My hand reaches towards the clock to shut it up, my eyes glancing at the time.
6:00 AM.
Taking a deep breath, I lift myself up and make my bed. Crumbs and other particles release in the air as ruffle and fix my blanket, God I need to do laundry soon. Too bad the machines been broken since who knows.
I guide myself to the bathroom and lay down my clothes for the day on the counter. A grey wife beater top with jeans that are way too big for me. I can worry about underwear later.
Turning on the shower faucets, I let the lukewarm water hit my face, refreshing me. My 3 in 1 soap lathers up on my body, quickly to be washed away by the water. Not wanting to take too long, I get out and dry myself, tugging on my jeans and tank top along the way to the kitchen. The fridge is barely stocked anyway, why do I bother?
The dry cold air hits my face like a truck, autumn is arriving fast. Just a few days ago, the trees leaves turned into warm shades of orange and golden yellow. My pick up truck waits for me as I reach into my pocket for the keys, getting into the drivers seat and starting it up. The radio plays a bittersweet tune as I drive out to the ranch.
What is the ranch? you may be asking.
Well, it's not really a ranch, I just call it that for aesthetics sake. You see, I'm a drug and weapons dealer in Graysville, an unknown city with only inhabitants who are either insane, dying, or both. I moved here a couple of years ago after I got kicked out my parents house, ever since then I make a living off violence and addiction. Luckily for me, I'm not out of my mind or half dead, making me the most normal person here.
My truck takes a left then swiftly stops on a patch of grass, the engine letting out a roar before I shut it off. Hopping out the vehicle, my precious baby drug plants spread across the field like sprinkles. Cocaine on one side, tobacco and the smaller kinds on the other.
"How's my little money makers doin'?" I talk to the plants while preparing to water and tend to any weeds. My watering can waters the tobacco, the little droplets spilling off the green leaves and soaking into the soil below. My hand reaches to wipe the sweat of my face. "Time for some special pesticides-" I stop midsentence because of a familiar ringtone in my pocket. Grabbing my phone, the caller ID is "Scoob", one of my regulars.
"Whazzup" I say into the phone and put it on speaker, setting it down on a barrel next to me.
"Kris. I'm here to buy some of...the stuff".
"Ah I see, what kind? the usual?".
"Mhm.." Scoob grunts. "6 grams of it. Meet me at dxd wearhouse, edge of town, 12:00".
"Alright" I make mental note and he hangs up, leaving me in the breezy silence of the ranch.
"Alright, time to get to work" My knees get to the ground, a shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other. My silver eyes inspect the plant, making sure its suitable for purchase. I'm going to grind it up anyway, so who cares. Inserting the shovel into the dirt, the plant comes up and I throw it in the pale. Repeat that 3 times and it should come up to 6 grams, if not I'll mix cornstarch into it.
The day is short but tiring, the sun about to set when I'm finished tending to the ranch. My phone reads 7:00 and I decide it's ready to head back. Getting into my truck, the trunk is filled with today's harvest. "Grinding it up is gonna drain all my energy" I say outloud not excited to work at home.
Once I got back to the house, the trunk pops open and I take the plants in bundles from the metal buckets. Looking back at the house I see that I left the lights on!
My bills will be on the roof. My leather shoes stomp on the ground as I approach my front door, shuffling in my pocket to grab the keys. Suddenly, a forceful gloved hand squeezes onto it shoulder, my head turning around to see a hooded figure before me. I can't make out his face at all, he just wears a black hoodie with matching slacks with black air forces.
The intruder pushes me into the door, letting my shoulder produce a cracking sound which sends fear to my body.
"W-Who are you!?" My voice tries to be dominant but you can hear how scared I am.
The figure doesnt reply and only bends my hand further, making loud pops as I suppress any screams. Screaming only hurts you in this crazy town.
"Open the door" His voice is deep and I immediately reach to my pocket for my secret 44k magnum strapped to my thighs. We make direct eye contact (I think I saw his eyes) and he points a glock at me, rookie's gun.
"Try anything funny and this bullet will lodge into your skull" He threatens me.
"Fine fine! here! the doors open".
Me and the stranger walk inside, gun still pointed at me. I've been robbed, mugged, and beat up more times than I can remember. If he steals anything from here, itll be my decoy drugs which are ground up dried clovers.
"Take as much as you'd like" My voice returns to it's original snarky tone and the figure helps himself to a sack of my "drugs".
"You don't even have a TV?" The figure looks at my bare trailerhouse only littered with adult magazines and soda cans. "No couch? No dining room?"
"Nope" I reply, popping the p.
The hooded man let's out an audible groan as he rummages through my empty kitchen cupboards and drawers. Not even a single fork could be found, I hid all my silverware in my secret closet.
"Don't try to call the police" He finished his robbery and heads to my door, turning back just to threaten me one more time in an attempt to scare me. "If you do, I'll blow your brains out".
"Got it" I calmly reply and it annoys him.
The door slams shut and I check the house just to make sure he hasn't stole my legit stuff.
"Weapons?" I open my secret wall department to see my assortment still intact. "Check".
"Crystal meth?" The faux floorboard creeks open with shiny rocks inside it. "Check!".
"Scoob's order?" I turn around and my eyes widen. The bundles of drug left on my porch are nowhere to be found, my mouth left agape. Panic rushes through my body like a power up as I search for it, coming up with nothing.
"Dangit!" My hand brushes through my sweaty hair. "It's too late to drive back to the ranch for more! God what am I gonna do!?" My feet pace back and forth around the empty room. Last time Scoob's order was late, let's just say it wasn't a pleasant experience. Biting my lip I head to my bathroom which stores a few crates of my imitation drugs.
"Cannabis, Cannabis..." I mumble to myself stil panicking as I search through the wooden crates. "Ah ha!".
A bag of dried crushed dandelions dangles from my hands, this should do the trick. As long as he doesn't burn the substance, it should be fine. The clock on the wall reads 11:00, God! Time goes on fast.
I quickly pack the "drugs" in a brown paper lunch bag, scribbling my logo on it with a sharpie. My initials, KC and a doodle of a devil. Sealing the bag with tape, I head to my car and start my journey to dxd wearhouse. It was better to be early than late, so my foot steps on the peddle to pick up speed. Soaring fast on the highway, neighboring cars don't bat an eye as I'm in the middle of the lane.
11:30 and I arrive at scene, the wearhouse looking just as abandoned as before. Trash litters the ground while fresh graffiti is sprayed onto the rusty walls, a single nail probably being the only thing keeping them up. My shoes crack leaves and papers below me as I venture to the center of the warehouse, bag in hand.
Soon enough, a capped man walks into view, hands in pockets. He wears ripped faded khakis paired with a white kangaroo graphic tee. Brown curly locks stick out of his backwards baseball cap as he makes a stop in front of me.
"You got it?" He whisper talks even though we're definently alone.
"Yup" I throw the bag at him and he catches it, inspecting the packaging with his rough hands.
"Money. Now.".
Scoob nods and pulls a 1000$ bill from his pocket, stacks of them. He tosses it and I quickly count up 10,000 bucks.
"Pleasure doing business with you" My hand holds up a peace sign, him waving at me before fading into the darkness.
"Phew, he hasn't noticed it's dandelion" My mind clears and lifts the tension off my shoulders. Already feeling lighter, I turn around to see...
"Hands up!" A man commands at me, thousands of guns loaded and pointed in my direction. It's like an entire army is ready to fire, obliterating me.
My pupils dialate as my legs turn into jelly. Who the heck is he!? What's going on!?
"You deaf?" The same man yells. "Boys, test if he can hear us!"
At once, the thousands of guns crack and blast a loud bang that rings in my ears even after it's over. My teeth clench and I fall to the hard concrete ground.
"Looks like he can" I can hear the voice smirk.
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Pitch black.
My eyes slowly open to see myself in a damp brick cell. The floor is cold and wet, making me get up and inspect my surroundings. Metal bars trap me in the room, I can see a keyhole on the outside. With enough energy and a pick, escaping could be easy. Taking off my belt, my pants fall to my ankles leaving me in my underwear.
"They took my backup gun and lockpick!?" I curse at my empty gun holster, looking around for another way out. No window, no toilet (only a little bucket) and no bed sheets...great.
Sighing in defeat, I detect a set of footsteps coming closer to my cell. I automstically retreated into the corner before the door opened, revealing a sophisticated young man. His expensive shoes clicked on the dirty floor as he approached. They probably cost more than my truck.
"Looks like he's awake" He half moaned half spoke, grabbing a folding chair and placing it in front of the cell. He wore a matching navy tuxedo paired with dark brown dress shoes. His wavy black hair was styled into a ponytail with a few strands hanging out as bangs.
"So, how do you feel?" The man asked me, suspiciously calm. My head turned away to the wall.
"C'mon, it's not like I'm going to hurt you" He frowned, looking amused at my lack of cooperation. I've been jailed and kidnapped a thousand times, letting my captors feel an ounce of authority makes me vomit.
I could see the man shuffle a bit, then stand up.
"Look's like you don't want this" A golden key swung from his fingers, immediately catching my eye.
"W-Wait" My throat choked out, how long has it been since I've talked?
"Uh uh uh" His brown fingers swung the key like he was doing a magic trick then put them back in his suit pocket. "You want to talk because of the key, right?".
"Yes..."
"It doesn't open your cell anyway! It's actually my house key".
My eyes narrowed as he slapped his thigh and cackled. God dangit this trickster!
"Don't look so bitter" The man wiped away a stray tear using a handkerchief. "My name is Sterling, you?".
"Evan Wilson"
"Trick question! Don't try using a fake name with me!"
Anger began to boil in my stomach as he let out another ear piercing laugh.
"What do you want from me!?" I straightforwardly asked, trying to salvage my power in the conversation.
"What do I want?" He repeated.
"Yeah! What DO you want from me? Money? Drugs? My gun supply? you can go to my trailer like it's a buffet, help yourself to as much as you'd like!"
"I don't want your little goods" Sterling combed the stray hair out of his face. "My gang has every firearm on the market, normal and black. What I want is to make a proposal. Have you heard of Blox Corporate?".
Blox Corporate? His voice echoed in my ears. The name sounds a little familiar.
"Yeah...I've heard of it. It's the most powerful gang in Graysville right?".
"Bingo. You see, I'm the co leader of the organization".
"Lies" I spat out. "Like I'd believe some guy who kidnapped me. Where's your evidence?".
"Evidence!?" Sterling raised his voice with a toothy grin.
With the snap of a finger, about 30 guards were summoned behind him, all in the Blox Corporate uniform (techwear oufits) dawned with kalashnikov rifles.
"Ak-47?" I almost gasped. "Those cost a fortune!"
The floor of the room let out a creaky clang as it separated, revealing a garage under us.
"A ferrari scaglietti 612!?"
"Bought with gang money" Sterling smirked. "Way more expensive than your Chevy. Do you believe me now?".
I slowly nodded my head.
"Good! I'm having dinner tonight at my mansion, you're invited. I'll send my finest stylists to design you a brand new outfit...definently a new pair of underwear too".
Sterling's eyes lurked downwards at my pants that were still pulled down at my ankles. I forgot to put them back on! I quickly pulled them back up and buckled my belt.
"I'll be back in a few. don't do anything stupid Kris! I have eyes everywhere".
Flashing a playful smile, he closed the door shut leaving me alone once more. The knob shook, indicating Sterling was smart enough to lock it.
My body sunk back down to the ground, hands resting on my knees. "I need to get out of here. Who cares if he is the leader of a gang, not like I'd care. I want my normal life back, even though I had to live in a dump. Getting up, I began to count the bricks on the wall.
70...71...72
72 bricks total enclosing me. The rough rocky texture hit my hand as I glided them on the wall, looking for a single one to be loose. Just a single one would be enough.
"He's a weird one" Sterling held the cigarette in between his fingers, letting out a blow of smoke. "Very weird".
"Interesting" Kevin put his legs on the glass coffee table.
tapping the burnt end on the ashtray, Sterling took out his lighter and empty box.
"Dangit, ran out. You have another box Kev?".
The strawberry blonde boy shook his head, making the other rise from his armchair.
"I'll be back" Sterling waved before grabbing his keys on the stand and walking out.
The marble floored hallway was dead silent, the only noise being from those loud dress shoes. Soon enough he reached a gold encrusted arched doorway leading to the underground garage from before. His thumb pressed the key, setting off a high pitch beep unlocking the car. Inside the beige seats, Sterling began his drive to the local convenience store.
Streets were dirtied with garbage and cigarettes, a few prostitutes standing at stop signs to get a quick buck. Some smaller gangs hung around each corner he turned, looking to beat up whoever passed by.
The expensive car made a stop at a broke down gas station, the pumps being left out and drained from it's liquid. Posters and advertisements acted like curtains as he passed by the blocked window and entered the store. A cheap floor fan let out a low buzz, cooling the building. Chips, drinks, and breakfast items were sloppily stocked on the shelves by the employees, damaged merchandise left on the floor for whatever thug came by to shoplift.
"One box of cigarettes please" Sterling fixed his suit while standing at the counter, a blonde makeup caked woman behind it. She nodded and passed some gold flake cigs to him. "Cash or card?".
"Card" His louis vuitton wallet was already out.
Suddenly, a loud bang screamed from the doors. A ski masked man with a sack entered, his eyes bloodshot red in the little holes in the mask. Pale skin graffitied with tattoos.
"Put the money in the bag!" He waved a glock in the air, causing the cashier to flinch and immediately open rhe register. Stacks of green where handed to the robber, a little giggle coming from him each dollar he got. "Keep it coming" He demanded then turned his attention to the rich man. "Hey you! empty your pockets and wallet! take off your shoes as well".
Sterling reluctantly nodded then bent down, shoe in hand. He reached for the secret compartment in the soles, swiftly grabbing out pepper spray and dousing the man in it. A yell surfaced from him as his hands raised in an attempt to rub his eyes, which only made it sting worse. Falling backwards onto a lays chip shelf, Sterling slid back and pulled out his golden revolver, daisy. Loading daisy with bullets using his mouth, the weapon fired and ricocheted off the wall.
By now, the cashier woman was on the phone with 911. Sterling's brown eyes peered at her, mentally sighing in the process. She must be new to Graysville if she thinks the police force do squat.
Shifting his focus back to the Robber, he got up and fired his glock sideways, missing 3 times. Smoothly ducking under a nearby fallen shelf, it became his trench. Scanning the area Sterling let the bullets fly towards the man. He too, hid behind an ice cream cooler. The loud bangs went on and on as they went on each other. "No bullets" Sterling's good ears could hear his enemy mutter.
Back in the cell, an empty pair of pants with a tank top laid on the floor in front of a broken brick wall.