It had been a week since the death of Chandler McCann. Lincoln had still not left his house and rarely his own room since that incident in the graveyard but today, he had no choice. His best friend Clyde had sold his half of the meth, weed, heroin, mushrooms, ketamine, and whatever else these junkies were buying. Now it was his job to give 90% of the earnings to his higher-ups. It was no wonder that Lincoln was still barely scraping by with money due to how much those greedy bastards took off him and this month he would have to give over 100% of this month's profits to them to make up for this past week he's been hiding. With a sigh, Lincoln pulled out his phone and called Clyde.

"Clyde. Can you come over to my house to drop off your half of the money that we owe these cartel bastards?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah man, I'll be over after school. I'm guessing your efforts of trying to get them to lower their 90% take didn't go so well?" Lincoln sighed down the phone. "Nope. Those vultures won't budge. We're stuck with only 5% each of the take."

"Cartel fuckers." Clyde spat. "Hey listen... If you're still under the weather, I can make the exchange for you, save you getting up." He suggested.

"Heh. Thanks, buddy but I need to do it this time. I need to force myself to get moving." Lincoln said.

"Alright man well, I'll see you in a few hours, yeah?" "You know it. See you later, Clyde." Lincoln hung up the phone. He couldn't let Clyde make the exchange this month. Lincoln knew that he was going to be light on the money this month and that his guy would most surely notice. He was well known to be a money-grubbing parasite in both his daily life and the real life that he and his family have. The innocent front that the family showed was really quite ingenious. They were nice, ran a local store, and their kids seemed like any other kid. But behind their fake smiles and charity was a family of monsters. Murder, kidnap, torture, corruption, they were a part of it all from the youngest of the family to the eldest, not to mention the big one. They were the head of the biggest drug empire on planet earth. A family from Mexico that moved to the states was the perfect cover for the family that led the cartel.

The Casagrande family are pure evil.

Lincoln's phone rang again. He picked it up and looked at the number. "Fuck." It was him. He answered the phone and put it to his ear.

"Same time. Same place." The voice on the phone said before hanging it up. "Fuck you, Carl," Lincoln said down the phone after it had gone dead. With a sigh, he got up to his feet and began to get dressed.

It was halfway through his getting dressed that the words of his grandfather came to his mind. He had been watching him and his family. He knew he was in the graveyard that night which meant... he had a tracker on his clothes. Lincoln began to search his pockets, feeling his shirts for any irregularity in the fabric, his socks, and even gloves. He had found nothing. Lincoln checked the time and gave a huff as he knew that he had to go soon. Whatever tracker his grandfather had placed on him, he'd deal with it later. Lincoln bent down and picked up his... shoes. Shoes! Lincoln quickly began inspecting them to see if anything looked even remotely off. He ran his hands over them and took notice when his finger got caught on something. The sole of his shoe showed wear as the sole seemed to ever so slightly separate. He reached two of his fingers down and pulled it out. A tracker, small enough to fit inside his shoe and go unnoticed for Lord knows how long.

"You sneaky fat bastard..." Lincoln said to himself with a smirk. He examined the chip for a moment before putting it back in his shoe. He didn't want him to know that Lincoln had found it. Not yet.

It had been an hour since Lincoln had left his house and gone out into the cold night. A night almost identical to the one he had been so desperately trying to forget. Lincoln stopped in front of the arcade/pizzeria that was closed for the night. "Gus' games and grub. The shittiest pizza in town." Lincoln whispered to himself as he made his way behind the building.

"You're late." A voice said from above. Of course, that wretched annoying bird had come with Carl. "Sergio," Lincoln said with a nod of his head.

"So what kept you?" Another voice spoke, coming from Lincoln's right. "Carl. I got held up at home." Lincoln replied.

Carl stepped out of the shadows and walked toward Lincoln. "Hm. Do you have it?"

Lincoln handed over a bag to Carl who took it and paused for a moment. Lincoln cursed inside his head. The fucker knew it was light.

Carl opened the bag and began to count the money while Lincoln watched on, Sergio flying in circles above the two of them. "...8,000," Carl said, his voice void of any emotion.

"Look, Carl, I know it's a little short. But it's no worry. I'll make it up with a little extra on the side next month, no trouble." Lincoln said, trying to reason with him. Carl looked him in the eyes for a solid 10 seconds before stepping aside to reveal 2 boxes. Lincoln walked over to them while Sergio flew off out of sight.

Lincoln checked the boxes, taking a moment to simply stare at the stash of drugs, not knowing that Sergio had returned, carrying a baseball bat with his feet which he gave to Carl.

"So. See you next m-" The world went blurry. Lincoln's head felt like it was on fire. A moment later, his leg and his ribs were screaming in pain as Carl swung the bat.

"So... Let me get this straight." Another swing, this time to Lincoln's arm. "Me and my family. We let you sell our product, give you ten percent of the profit, a generous amount really, and yet you have the balls to disrespect me to disrespect MY FUCKING FAMILY by bringing me this fucking chump change?" Carl bent down to Lincoln who was breathing heavily. "Tell me, Loud. Are you fucking stealing from us? are you really 2,000 dollars light or has your greedy fucking ass been taking Casagrande money?"

Lincoln spent a moment catching his breath before responding. "No... You know I... Wouldn't..." "Do I know that?" Carl asked. "Do you think I don't know the goings on in your shitty little home? word spreads, Lincoln. Your dad hasn't been to run his restaurant in over two weeks. His workers and friends can't get in contact with him." Carl let out a chuckle. "He's dead, isn't he? maybe he finally passed away due to malnutrition. Doesn't really matter. Point is, your father dies, and maybe now... maybe now you're thinking you can get away just once by stealing a few stacks."

Lincoln shook his head, finding it extremely difficult to even breathe let alone speak. "No, huh? Hm." Carl got back to his feet and looked at the bat in his hands. "You know, Loud. I'm a nice guy and I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you were just light this month. But..." Carl put his foot down on Lincoln's chest. "If I find out you stole from me... from the Casagrande family... We will kill your mother. Your infant sister Lily. And the rest? I'm sure a few of them will make us some money if we sell their bodies." At that moment, Lincoln felt uncontrollable rage take over him, making the pain he felt moments earlier vanish. He reached his hand up toward Carl who responded by hitting Lincoln in the nose with the knob of the baseball bat, breaking his nose and making him yell in agony. "Don't be light again." Carl removed his foot. "Still...I have to admit you've got balls for lunging at me like you just did. I do like you, Lincoln. But you EVER do that again?" Carl swung the baseball bat down, hitting the ground just inches away from Lincoln's crotch. "I'll make sure you don't have the balls to try it a third time." Carl turned on his heel and walked off into the night, Sergio following him from the skies.

Lincoln lay there on the ground, motionless. Carl's words were echoing nonstop in his head. "And the rest? I'm sure a few of them will make us some money if we sell their bodies."Carl had unknowingly awoken a beast inside of Lincoln who despite his injuries climbed back to his feet. "No fucking way in hell."

To Be Continued