Author's Note: I had to make a few obligatory shout outs before getting down to business:
Cloud Link Zero a.k.a. CLZ: I totally forgot about the Tornado Kick reference being inspired by the Hurricane Kick from the Street Fighter series. Thank you for pointing that out!
Afro Spirt and Native Gunz: Indeed Donnie has the 'jungle fever!' He's like a more violent version of Glen Quagmire from "Family Guy" in the sense that his cock DOES NOT discriminate against any kind of color. Giggidy-Giggidy-Giggidy-Yeah!
Chapter 25: Wake Up and Smell the Ashes
The cell phone blared noisily in the small apartment, causing Artie to slowly stir back into consciousness, his head throbbing like he had just been walloped in the back of the head with a baseball bat the second he made any kind of movement.
"F…Fuck…" he rasped, his body feeling like it weighed a ton as he struggled to roll himself over, only to find himself falling off the edge and onto the floor, snapping himself wide awake.
Everything spun around the hired gun and he blinked his eyes rapidly to help everything slowly focus back into view. The phone shrilled behind him and again everything felt like it was being rattled.
"Alright…I'm coming…" he croaked before spitting out a mouthful of phlegm, "Jesus who the fuck is calling me now?" he grumbled while bracing himself against the nearest wall, feeling along the nightstand where the ringing emanated from and knocking the lamp and a few other small furnishings off before finally grasping the cell phone and switching it on.
"Okay, just who the fuck do you think you are to be calling me at this time?" the hitman shouted into the receiver, his parched throat making him sound like a lifelong chain smoker.
"Yeesh, is that any way to be talking to your own cousin ya' jackass?" Donnie Cappelli called out from the other end.
"Donnie, what the fuck man?" Artie asked pulling the phone away and looking at the screen to see it was only a little after 5 o'clock and then looking over to see the earliest rays of sunlight snaking through the blinds, "What the fuck are you doing calling me this early in the goddamned morning?"
"No you are not hallucinating my dearest Cuz in the whole world; you really are seeing that the Don is up and at 'em this early in the morning! Shocking huh?" the elder Cappelli laughed.
"You didn't answer my question moron, what the fuck are you doing calling me this early in the morning?" Artie demanded, coughing harshly to clear his throat.
"Not one to fuck around like always, that's the spirit Cuz. Let's just say I've got a little assignment I need some help with and I can't rely upon my own worthless brother, so I'm calling you," Donnie replied.
"And why the fuck are you doing it this early? You should've fucking called me when I at least had some time to sleep off this fucking hangover," Artie snapped, fighting off his urge to punch a hole through the nearest wall.
"Out partying hard again last night, eh? Just like a real hardcore Cappelli should be doing," Donnie laughed, "Don't worry; I picked you up some breakfast from the Rusty Brown's. I'll tell you more about it when you get your funky ass down here. I'm waiting outside right now," he replied honking the horn before hanging up.
"Damn it," Artie grunted, "God fucking damn you Donnie!" he shouted looking down to his clothes scattered on the floor, reaching down to pick up a pair of black jeans when he suddenly noticed a black G-string lying next to them, definitely not something that he wore.
A low moan came from the sofa bed and he looked over to see an obscured figure beginning to stir back into consciousness and it wasn't until the woman finally sat up that he recognized her.
"Portia?" he asked.
It was the same busty blonde street racer he recognized from the race over in Gold Valley from a few nights back, lying naked in the same bed which he had occupied.
The hired gun looked down and realized he too was still naked and quickly reached down to scoop up the same pair of briefs he had worn the day before, "Oh crap…did we?"
"We did," the buxom blonde replied standing up and stretching her arms, her curvaceous now in full display and making Artie nearly pitch a tent as he was finally able to see her without her clothes on. "You were actually pretty good too, I figured you had to be with the way you handled those trust fund bitches the other night."
Artie's mouth fell wide open as bits and pieces of last night started coming back to him.
He had met up with Boomer over at the Three Leaf Clover and unbeknownst to him, the explosives expert had invited a few of his friends over.
What had started out as one drink soon became two after he was challenged to a friendly arm wrestling contest by Boomer's friend Arnie, then three when he lost, then four when he was challenged by a smaller man called Scruffy, who was deceptively strong for his diminutive stature, then five after losing a drunken round of darts, then six when he lost a round of beer pong against the owner's son, and so forth until he was dancing and making out with every woman in sight, going toe to toe with some punk whose wife he had accidentally made out with and then finally somehow ending up back here at his apartment naked in bed with another woman.
"Oh god…Gladys will murder me if she finds out about this," he thought to himself as Portia bent over in front of him and reached down for her G-string and then a matching black lace bra nearby for her DD-sized chest.
"Relax, you didn't get me pregnant. I'm on the pill," she replied reaching down for a pair of short shorts that barely covered her ample buttocks, "I'm not some dumb ho' like some people might think."
"No…no, no, no! I wouldn't accuse you of that!" Artie blurted out taking a step backward and crying out as he scraped his heel against the edge of another stand.
"Well hey, it was still fun," Portia replied with a wink, "We'll definitely have to do it again sometime."
The honking of Donnie's horn came from outside and Artie stifled a curse word before returning his attention to Portia, "Look, I'm sorry to leave you high and dry like this and on such short notice, but I have to go help my cousin out," Artie said hurriedly reaching down for an undershirt and a pair of socks before pulling on his black jeans and then grabbing a black button up shirt, Kevlar vest and a blue denim jacket. Looking into a nearby mirror he saw his hair was a mess and would be in need of another haircut soon, but he had no time to style it up and instead reached for a forest green Rushmore Juggernauts cap. "You can feel free to show yourself out. Thanks anyway," he replied grabbing his wallet, keys, cell phone and Beretta M9 before making his way for the door.
Artie stepped out into the early morning air to hear the thumping bass coming from around the corner and he quickly descended the rusty metal steps, stopping to take a quick peek at his Sentinel, which was covered in various scratches, missing its driver's side rearview mirror, and had the front grill and bumper covered in dried blood.
"Guess that explains how I got home last night," he thought making his way out front to find Donnie waiting for him in his Banshee, blasting Cassidy's "I'm a Hustla" on Beatbox 102.
"C'mon Cuz, get your ass in gear. I've already wasted enough gas waiting for your lazy ass to crawl out from underneath your rock! You do know how high gas prices are around here don't cha?" Donnie called out waving his cousin over.
"Spare me the economics lesson for later," Artie snapped making a half-assed jog towards the waiting convertible and pulling the door open, throwing himself inside and reaching for his seatbelt.
"Oh, and as promised," Donnie said shoving a bag and cup into his lap.
"Well at least you find some way to redeem yourself after disrupting my beauty sleep," Artie grunted while looking over to Portia's Elegy parked across the street.
"Jesus Fucking Christ, you're always worse than a fucking woman. Looks like somebody forgot to change their tampon," Donnie chuckled pulling his shades down over his eyes before sniffing the air and finding himself recoiling, "Holy fucking sheep shit, you smell like shit man. You fucking sleep with some fucking pigs last night? Jesus Fucking Christ man!"
"Let's just say I was surrounded by a lot of nasty shit yesterday," Artie shuddered, remembering the rancid state Pinecone Grove was left in following his and Randy's trip through. Sniffing through the air he swore he could still smell it and it left his stomach churning, bad enough the usually tasty chocolate Long Rod he held in his hand would have been in his mouth right now being torn apart and traveling down his waiting gullet.
"Heh yeah, I heard on the news about that literal shit storm they had over in Pinecone Grove. I was a little bummed out at first since that place is always prime pickings for finding some rich guy's hot daughter out sunbathing in the nude, but when I heard that wannabe gangsta rapper from Vice City Chihuahua was performing at some rich prick's house I suddenly didn't feel so bad anymore," Donnie chuckled as he took a right and sped past a Yankee belonging to 'The Daily Blowhard,' "Although I do feel bad for those poor strippers, just a couple of honest ladies trying to pay their way through college."
"Yeah, whoever did that should be getting a medal for what they did to that little cocksucker," Artie half-heartedly replied, thinking of all those pissed off preppies after his mission from Randy, a bittersweet occurrence in being able to both help out a friend in need and ruin the day of some trust fund baby who thought he was on top of the world.
"Well hey in the end at least it'll bring down the real estate prices and then in the process, yours truly will be able to move into a bigger house and come one step closer to living like a king…no not a king…a god!" Donnie triumphantly proclaimed, so caught up in his own delusions of grandeur he ran a red light and was nearly sideswiped by a Serrano coming from the opposite end.
"Jesus Fucking Christ Donnie, watch where the fuck you're going!" Artie screamed accidentally dropping his chocolate Long Rod onto the Banshee's floor and sending his coffee flying out of his hand and onto the pavement.
"What?" Donnie called out as he was snapped back to reality and was then able to hear all the angry honks and obscenities hurled in his direction, "Oh, sorry about that."
Artie remained silent, his heart racing and threatening to pound right through his chest following his latest near death experience. If he had been half asleep before he was now wide awake following that near mishap.
"You're goddamned right you'd better be fucking sorry," the hired gun now finally willed himself to speak and in a near feral growl barely heard above the hip-hop music as his cousin raced across the Eastwood Bridge at reckless speeds exceeding one hundred miles, just as "Grand Theft Auto" by Da Shootaz came on the radio.
The Banshee roared through the Washington Common district and into the adjoining Washington Point district before Artie had calmed down long enough to speak again, "Alright, please tell me a little more about this little 'mission' of yours for which you required my assistance."
There was no immediately reply from his cousin and the hitman looked over to see Donnie in the midst of singing along with the song.
"Stop the violence from the police, you know my dad used to say but now he's deceased, he got caught in the jam, threw in the can," Donnie was singing along in a horrible off key pitch.
"Donnie, what the fuck did I tell you about paying attention?" Artie roared reaching over and turning off the radio.
"What the fuck man?" the elder Cappelli demanded.
"Okay, now that I finally have your attention I want you to tell me more about this little 'assignment' that you had planned out, and you'd better tell me or else I will throw you out of this car!" Artie demanded cracking his knuckles.
"Alright, some rich punk has been causing trouble over at my friend's uncle's shop in La Reina and they want him dealt with," Donnie replied as they came to a halt at the next stoplight, obeying the traffic laws for once.
"Go on," Artie spoke as some pedestrians crossed the street.
"From what they know, he's only supposed to be in town for this weekend and then he's heading down to the Caribbean, meaning that we need to act fast hence the early morning bullshit," Donnie said as the light turned green.
"Hmph, this guy must be quite the asshole if whacking him is able to pull you out of bed this early in the morning," Artie replied with a slight chuckle, "So what else do you know besides that?"
"My friend has a cousin who works as a housekeeper over at the Chilton in Gomorrah, says the prick is staying there and that's where we're heading right now. They also said he drives around in a customized '92 ZR-350. We don't know when he's supposed to wake up, so we've gotta get over there before he suspects anything. How we deal with him, that's entirely up to us," Donnie grinned.
"Any idea what the prick looks like?" Artie asked looking down to his loaded Beretta M9.
"Tall, blond-haired, wears fancy clothes…but then again that's how roughly over a thousand fellas look like around here," the elder Cappelli replied as they drew nearer to the tourist-friendly Gomorrah district, "but then again we'll find some way to pick the son of a bitch out. Trust me, we will."
Donnie drove down the street lined with ritzy hotels, casinos and restaurants before finally coming to the Chilton Hotel, a thirty story ivory structure with a dark green rooftop lined with statues and an open garden filled with various fountains and other sculptures.
"Now try not to stand out too much," Donnie instructed as they passed a group of tourists who looked like they were heading out for the nearest country club and then a group of younger people who looked like they were heading to the beach.
"Well seeing as how you decided to pull me out of bed this early and I didn't have much time to get properly dressed up, that might be next to impossible right now," Artie retorted as a valet in a red waistcoat and black bowtie eyed him suspiciously, "Fucker probably thinks I'm a hoodlum who's going to hold up the next person I see for their wallet and Crowex."
Donnie snickered at the comment, "As shallow as some of these assholes are, just being in this car and with somebody dressed the way I am hopefully that won't make them too suspicious," the elder Cappelli said looking down at his own clothes, which consisted of a nice turquoise short-sleeved dress shirt and some black slacks, in addition to the expensive-looking shades he wore.
"Heh, and like you aren't," Artie retorted as they pulled into the large parking lot and he groaned in disbelief, "Damn it, this place is packed to high heaven. Good luck trying to find one specific sports car in a lot filled with them!"
"I've already got that covered. Just you sit back, relax and let the Donster work his magic," Donnie replied looking over to a rat-faced younger man with short messy blond hair who wore the dark green polo shirt and tan cargo shorts of a member of the grounds keeping crew, lazily strolling about with a broom and dustpan in hand.
"Excuse me, sir!" he whistled to the young man, "I need your help with something and I can make it worth your while!"
Reaching over into the glove box, Donnie produced a gallon storage bag filled to the brim with freshly cut marijuana that was enough to make Artie's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.
"Whatta ya' want?" the groundskeeper groaned irritably, until he saw the bag of weed and then his bloodshot green eyes grew wide in lustful anticipation.
"If you help me out this can be all yours," Donnie said motioning towards the bag, "Prime cut Jamaican grass just for your lungs' delight, but you've gotta help a brother out first."
"Name it," the kid replied excitedly.
"Tell me son, have you by any chance seen a customized '92 ZR-350 pass through here over the past few days? I'm talking a black car with gold trim and golden rims, plus I was told it had the word 'Prince' as a decal on the side," Donnie asked.
Artie sighed in frustration, doubtful some whacked out stoner would be able to remember such vivid details, especially in an area this large and with so many cars that probably looked the same to his fried out brain cells.
"Yeah!" the kid cried out, "I saw a car just like that over in the D section! It's a real beauty man. If you're looking to boost it I won't be tellin' anybody…as long as you gimme gimme that is."
Donnie smirked, "You've been helpful enough already kind sir. Consider it yours for the taking," he said tossing the bag to the kid, who quickly dropped his equipment and ran for a concealed place where he could smoke it up to his heart's content.
"Where the hell did you get that stuff?" Artie asked in bemusement.
"I have my ways of getting things. Heh, thought you'd know by now your big cousin has more than one trick up his sleeve," Donnie laughed while pulling up to the end of the row and waiting for a M.I.L.F. pushing a stroller to pass on through.
"Well I do know you have a gift for nearly getting your own flesh and blood shot up," Artie scoffed.
"You just have to keep bringing that up again and again don't you?" Donnie sighed irritably, "Jesus Fucking Christ get over it man! Or am I gonna have to take you on Dr. Gill's show to finally make you shut the fuck up about that once and for all?"
Artie just laughed as the elder Cappelli pulled over to the D section and slowly maneuvered his way through the aisles until he finally happened across the aforementioned ZR-350.
"Well I'll be fucking damned here it is," Donnie proclaimed pulling into a parking stall a few cars removed from their target, "Too bad we're gonna have to possibly blow the shit out of it. I bet the chop shops around here would pay well for what that bad boy has to offer."
"Planning something full scale?" Artie asked looking around at all the other cars present and all the damage that could possibly be wreaked.
"All I've been told is that we are to dispose of this dipshit by any means necessary, but judging by how much of a prick this guy sounds to be I figure why not something a little more hardcore? If you catch my drift that is, too big for him being shanked or having his brains splattered all over the interior," Donnie replied with a wink.
"My beloved cousin the psychopath ladies and gentlemen," Artie sarcastically proclaimed to the world, "Well since you're in the mood for blowing shit up, I know someone who can help," he said pulling out his cell phone and shuffling through his list of contacts before finding Boomer's number on speed dial.
The hired gun waited as the demolitions expert's phone rang, tapping his fingers impatiently against the passenger door until the third ring and it was then he heard a loud hacking from the other end.
"Jeez, what in the flying fuck gives man?" Boomer shouted from the other end, sounding like he was ready to rip off the head and then shit down the neck of whoever dared call him at this time of day.
"Boomer relax man, its Artie," the hired gun replied before he could go further into a tirade.
"Oh…hey man what's up?" he asked, his tone suddenly changing to a hoarse half-whisper before letting out a long drawn out yawn, a woman's low moans heard from the background.
"I'm sorry to be bothering you right now, but I need a favor to ask of you and I can make it worth your while for waking you up this early," Artie replied.
"Oh, for a second there I thought you hadn't gotten enough of the booze and bitches last night and were ready for another trip," Boomer laughed.
"Sorry bro, I'm not an Irishman, I don't have your kind of iron liver," Artie half-laughed before getting back to business, "I need to see if you can rig a car to blow for me. You think you can do that?"
"Heh, can I? You bet your sweet ass I can, but you're gonna have to bring it to me. I can't risk Johnny Law and the boys finding out, but I do know of some good hidden areas. Just tell me where you're at and I can meet you somewhere nearby."
"I'm over at the Chilton Hotel in Gomorrah," Artie replied.
"Alright, I know of a back alley over in Hyacinth, right behind the Van Winkle Dome. I can be over in a few minutes, just hold tight until then," the demo man answered.
"Gotcha," Artie replied before shutting his phone off and turning to Donnie, "Alright, he said he'll be over in a few minutes, but I have to go meet him over in Hyacinth."
"No prob Cuz, you just take your sweet little time while the Don gets some much need shuteye," Donnie replied pulling the lever to recline his seat.
"Don't you think you should be keeping your lazy ass awake and do something worthwhile, like I don't know, maybe surveillance? Y'know, making sure this ass monkey doesn't have backup waiting to shoot our guinea asses up the second we get too close for comfort!" Artie spat.
"Cuz, do you honestly think anybody of interest is up at this time of day?" Donnie laughed harshly before falling back in his reclined seat, "Now beat it!"
"Asshole," Artie muttered to himself exiting the Banshee and making his way over to the waiting ZR-350. Needing the car kept in mint condition so the owner wouldn't notice, he pulled out a lock pick Zeke had given him a while back and used it to jimmy the lock on the driver's side door, climbing inside and then proceeding to hotwire the car. Once the final wire was crossed the engine roared with life, the station set on Beatbox 102 and playing "Nastradamus" by Nas.
He shifted the car into reverse and carefully made his way out of the parking lot and back into the streets of Gomorrah, which were still largely devoid of traffic at this time of day aside from the street sweepers and other public service vehicles.
Thankfully the Hyacinth district adjoined Gomorrah, another upscale district dominated largely by the presence of the aforementioned Van Winkle Dome, home to the Rushmore Juggernauts and various other large scale sporting events, having even housed R.S.W.A.'s Murdermania 26 at one point.
Aside from a few employee cars present in the parking lot, the dome appeared to be largely unoccupied for this time of day and thus Artie was able to move around to the back alley without incident, until he happened across a Fortune rocking up and down and heard moans coming from within.
Shaking his head in frustration, Artie withdrew his Beretta M9 and made his way over to the white sedan, where he looked inside to find a businessman in the middle of a 'transaction' with a prostitute.
"Excuse me," he said tapping the gun's barrel against the man's window, "I have some 'business' of my own to take care of here…you two lovebirds mind getting the fuck outta here and finding somewhere else to continue your little game of 'hide the cannoli?'"
Both the car's occupants shrieked and scrambled to get off of each other in the confined space, the prostitute accidentally kicking her client in the face as he struggled to pull up his pants, leaving Artie to chuckle at the little scare he had just created. With a loud screech the sedan peeled out of the alley and it wasn't much later when he was hearing the roar of a motorcycle's engine to signify the arrival of the demo man.
Boomer rode into view on the same Angel he recognized from Ratchet's garage, "The Dirty Glass" by Dropkick Murphys blasting on his radio. He pulled up alongside Artie and deployed his kickstand, letting out a long yawn before dismounting and reaching into the bike's side pack.
"You'd better be ready to make use of this after pulling my ass outta bed this early, especially seeing as how I still had one hour left with that hooker before she charges me extra. Time's a wasting by having me out here," he spoke pulling out a box-like object roughly the size of a police scanner.
"Hey, blame my cousin, not me," Artie replied approaching his newfound acquaintance.
"Heh, whatever you say bub," Boomer shot back before getting down to business, "Alright, gotcha a homemade car bomb for whoever it is that's been pissing you off today. I got it rigged so that all you gotta do is strap it to the bottom of the guy's car and then you wait for him to turn the key and next thing you know…KA-Fucking-BOOM!"
"Alright, sounds like a plan," Artie said reaching into his pocket and producing a stack of one hundred dollar bills amounting to $1,000 and offering them to the demo man, "Here, hope that can be enough compensation for ruining your beauty sleep."
"I would've settled for booze and hookers, but this always helps too," Boomer chuckled sliding the bills into his pocket, "Gimme a call next time you need some other motherfucker blown to bits."
"Will do," Artie replied offering a mock salute before making his way back to the waiting sports car just as the explosives expert took off.
Getting down on his knees the hired gun strapped the car bomb underneath the idling car and just as he finished his phone started ringing again, seeing that Donnie was calling him.
Looking around to make sure no one else was around to listen he switched the phone on, "Donnie, what's going on? Did something happen?" he asked hurriedly, not expecting a phone call from someone he thought would be taking a cat nap.
"Uh sort of Cuz," Donnie replied with a nervous laugh, "I had to get up and take a leak and then after yours truly was done wetting the whistle, well I sort of happened across the lady working the front desk and well, she was sort of hot and then well…we sort of went at it like a couple of wild dogs in heat in the janitor's closet…and well now you need to get back here 'cause I sort of convinced her to send the guy a wakeup call and he'll be out soon. Don't think he'll be taking too kindly to coming out and finding his pride and joy missing."
"Donnie, Donnie, Donnie," Artie thought shaking his head before speaking, "Okay and just when do I have to be back there before this chump notices something is wrong?"
"Um that's the thing…you've got until 8 o'clock sharp," Donnie again chuckled nervously, "That's the farthest she was willing to go without her wanting to sodomize me with a broom handle in the end, kinkier than I expected."
Artie looked down to his watch and his eyes widened. It had just turned 7:50, meaning by now he would have less than ten minutes to get his ass back to the hotel.
"Donnie you motherfucker," the errand boy spat, shutting off his phone and throwing himself into the car.
The hotel wasn't far away, but he would still have to hurry as he could hear the daily traffic now beginning to pick up. Peeling out of the alley the ZR-350's rear end fish tailed and it was only through some fancy wheel work Artie managed to avoid being side swiped by an oncoming Feroci, telling him he would need to get back soon if he wanted to get it back unscratched.
Slamming the pedal to the floor, Artie raced down the straightway in the opposite lane, causing several oncoming cars to swerve out of the way in one large demented game of dominoes and resulting in a massive pileup, paving a literal trail of destruction as he raced towards his objective.
He was so caught up in the scene taking place in his rearview mirror that it took the blaring of a big truck's horn to snap him out of it and he turned to see a Tanker coming at him, forcing him to take a detour onto the nearby sidewalk. Several streetwalkers had seen him coming before he even needed to lay on the horn and were sent diving for cover and he bolted towards the gate leading to the Chilton's parking lot, taking another sharp right that sent the car fish tailing before he finally entered the parking lot and made his way for the D section, earning the suspicious stares of guest and hotel employee alike.
Eventually he happened across the spot where the car had initially been parked, in between a teal Landstalker and a ruby red '84 Declasse Voodoo. Artie pulled the car to a halt and quickly got out, making sure to lock the door behind him before bolting over towards Donnie's waiting Banshee.
"Hell yeah, that's the spirit Cuz," the elder Cappelli cousin replied with a strident laugh.
"Just shut the fuck up and next time, let a chick shove something up your ass if it's gonna buy your 'beloved cousin' some extra time," Artie shot back while throwing himself inside.
"Alright, that's gotta be him right there," Donnie hissed just as a tall young man in his late twenties with short, slicked black blond hair came rushing towards the lot, clad in a black sport coat with matching slacks and an ochre dress shirt underneath that both cousins considered fancy enough for their standards.
Surely enough he was heading for the ZR-350, proving for once they could actually trust a stoner of all people.
"Alright, we'd better get out of here now," Donnie said pulling down his shades and starting up his car, doing what he could to look natural as they pulled out. "Okay, should be just about…now," he said when they had gotten a safe enough distance away, watching in the rearview mirror as the young man finally reached the car and pulled himself inside.
A violent eruption of flames soon followed and both cousins watched as several adjoining cars were swallowed up in a chain reaction that sent flaming heaps of metal flying in all directions.
"Ha ha! Score one for yours truly-" Donnie laughed, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from Artie, "-and his cousin too of course."
"I'd prefer you not fucking broadcast our victory to the entire world at a time like this," Artie reprimanded as they drove around towards the back of the building.
"Whatever you say Cuz, there's always later for us to…what the fuck?" Donnie asked, his eyes growing wide as saucers beneath his shades.
"It can't be," Artie gasped in disbelief.
The very same guy they had just blown to bits was somehow still alive and climbing into the back of a black Schafter with gold trim, the car carrying three other members of the Gold Valley Preps. Behind it were two Turismos, both carrying members of the affluent clique.
"Unless that other prick was a decoy…we were fucking had man! Those pricks must've expected something would be up! Motherfuckers!" Donnie shouted pounding on his steering wheel.
"Looks like we've still got ourselves a mission to complete," Artie said withdrawing his Beretta M9 and firing upon the Schafter, one of his bullets traveling through its windshield and striking the man in the front passenger seat.
The remaining Preps had taken notice of the hitman firing upon them and withdrew machine pistols, forcing Donnie to shift the car into reverse as the Banshee's front end was pelted with live rounds.
"You motherfuckers! This is my pride and joy!" the elder Cappelli hollered back as he reached for a Mini-Uzi kept in his door's side panel and returning fire.
A few of his bullets had stricken the fleeing Schafter, but by the time they had connected they touched upon areas that would have done no critical damage to either the car itself or the people housed inside.
A loud crash followed from behind and Artie peered over his shoulder to realize Donnie had backed into one of the dumpsters, popping its trunk open.
"Get down!" the elder Cappelli cried out a second later as the Schafter and both Turismos came speeding towards them, their occupants showering the Banshee with bullets as they sped past, shattering the windshield and tearing apart the sports car's headrests.
"You bastards are gonna pay for that!" Donnie screamed as he shifted the convertible into drive and sped after the fleeing parade of cars, plowing into the stoner who had provided the useful information that led them to the target's car, sending him flying high into the air and falling back to earth with a sickly splat that left his fried out brains leaking onto the pavement. There was no time to feel remorse over his loss as they had a job to complete.
The Schafter and its convoy had taken a left to avoid the pileup created by Artie's mad dash back to the hotel. By now rescue crews had arrived and were loading the injured into the back of more than one ambulance, while firefighters battled a blaze growing from the crumpled remnants of a Rebla. A few police officers who had arrived on the scene heard the screeching tires and began piling into their patrol cars to mount a chase.
"Okay, now this cocksucker is really starting to piss me off," Donnie replied hearing the sirens coming from behind.
"And you think I'm not pissed?" Artie shot back raising his Beretta and squeezing off a few more rounds which had implanted themselves into the back of one of the Turismos.
The gold supercars formed a protective barricade behind the Schafter, each of their passengers firing upon their pursuer, forcing Donnie to bob and weave to avoid having his front tires punctured.
"This is the R.C.P.D., you in the Banshee, pull over at once and throw your keys onto the pavement. Do it now!" an officer called out from a cruiser tailing them.
"There are other people causing trouble you know!" Donnie shouted back to the officer, his words muted by the piercing siren's din.
"Like they're gonna listen to you! These are Rushmore City cops remember," Artie shouted turning his attention to one of the cars behind them, its driver sizing them up for a P.I.T. maneuver. He raised his gun and fired a flurry of bullets at the approaching car hoping to scare the driver off, succeeding in striking one of his front tires and sending the car careening into a nearby Secret Identities costume shop.
Normally Donnie would have whooped and hollered in triumph at the sight, followed by him going on into a rant about how that being 'how Cappellis rolled,' but right now he was dead focused on the fleeing rich snob in front of him, not deterred by the flurry of bullets being fired upon him by the man's cohorts, a trio of which traveled along the hood and came dangerously close to striking him.
It was almost as if he had been forced to reach deep down within the depths of his soul to reach that zeal that left him focused on one thing and one thing only, something which Artie hadn't been able to take notice of due to him being forced to hold off the pursuing officers.
"Oh you're so going down little man!" one of the cops called out threateningly as his passenger pulled out a Remington shotgun and pumped it preparing to open fire, yet the man was cut off as Artie had somehow managed to score a one in a million shot, knocking the shotgun from his hands and sending him retreating back inside the cruiser scrambling for his sidearm, unfortunately his driver would be felled by a shot piercing the windshield and driving straight into his throat, forcing him to reach over to grab the steering wheel to prevent the car from swerving out of control.
"You gonna catch this fucker soon or what? I'm running outta ammo here," Artie shouted over to his cousin as he fumbled for a spare clip.
Donnie did not reply and instead focused on firing away through his shattered windshield, eventually catching one of the Turismos gunmen with a volley to the chest and sending the man's body falling from his perch and rolling along the pavement, only to be turned into a manmade speed bump for the Banshee. The elder Cappelli did not stop there and continued firing away, riddling the same supercar with bullets and littering his own car's interior with spent casings until he clicked empty.
"Just shut up and reload that for me," he said shoving the Mini-Uzi into his cousin's hands so he could focus on the road.
Normally the younger Cappelli would have shouted a complaint about 'not being his cousin's bitch boy' and furthermore going on to compare him to their super lazy Aunt Griselda, who needed help even reaching for the remote when it fell from her grasp, but given their dire circumstances he held his tongue and reached into the compartment between the seats, pulling out a fresh clip and slamming it into the Uzi.
"Thank you," Donnie shouted back snatching the gun from his cousin's grasp and firing another burst into the other gold-colored Turismo, his bullets eventually hammering their way through the rear window and into the back of the driver's head. The supercar swerved out of control and collided with parked '84 Mesa Grande, starting another chain reaction as an officer didn't have enough time to hit on the brakes and his patrol cruiser slammed head on into the pileup, sending the hapless officer rocketing through the windshield.
As it stood there was now just the Schafter and one of its escorts left, the latter having only the driver and already having smoke billowing from beneath its hood following the torrent of lead fired into it. Seeing his enemies walking wounded, Donnie was sizing them up for the kill and he wasn't going to let some corrupt pigs stop him from claiming his latest scalp.
He rammed into the remaining Turismo's rear end as it took a sharp left hand turn into the affluent Emerald Hill district, an area dominated by most of the island's skyscrapers, high rise apartment complexes and several other high end retail outlets. Normally he would have had a stroke at the thought of his beloved car getting the tiniest scratch upon its beautiful cobalt surface, but again he was too entrenched in the zone to care.
"Are you fucking deaf? I said pull the fuck over!" an officer cried over his megaphone, only to be cut off by his colleague.
"Frank remember, we can't use that kind of language anymore! The parents' and religious groups will complain about us corrupting the youth!" the other officer shouted before stealing away the receiver, "Sir, you are only making this more difficult upon yourself and we ask that you pull over immediately before anybody else has to get hurt!"
Artie ignored the officer's plea and fired a round that took out one of its flashers before firing another that pierced the windshield and produced a crimson splotch, yet the cruiser continued its pursuit up until he fired another trio of shots that found their way into the driver and sent the car crashing through a bus stop kiosk and a line of newspaper vendors before taking an abrupt right down a flight of stairs and into the side of an office building.
Donnie continued his assault upon the targets before them, continuing to fire away madly at the fleeing Schafter, the Turismo swaying violently back and forth behind it, the driver doing whatever it could to protect its client.
He continued firing until a pillar of black smoke escaped from beneath the Turismo's hood, soon followed by flames. Unable to take any more damage, the driver finally leapt out of the supercar and was sent tumbling along the pavement into the grassy avenue separating the opposing lanes.
"Now you're mine," Donnie shouted as the Schafter's occupants, minus the driver and their real target, began returning fire. The driver attempted to lose him by speeding through an intersection just as the light turned red, sending an Argento station wagon spinning out of control right in front of him, but thanks to some fancy wheel work the elder Cappelli cousin managed to avoid the would-be accident and continued his relentless pursuit.
Fortunately the Prep's trap had worked on the police and one of the cruisers was brought to a halt, while another tried to speed around it, only to collide with an Alphamail delivery van.
The chase continued into the Hawking Park district, another upscale district dominated by several museums, the Rushmore Opera House and the Urania Amphitheater, overlooked from a great hill by Minerva Temple. The Schafter cut across an open grassy knoll on which several historical re-enactors clad in Roman armor gathered, sending most of them scattering for cover while a brave actor clad in centurion gear attempted to toss a replica pilum at the disrupting car with little or no effect.
"You're a disgrace to Italians you fucking poseurs!" Donnie shouted to the faux centurion before returning his attention to the fleeing Schafter while Artie continued firing upon the cruisers still tailing them.
He continued firing until his Beretta clicked empty and he ejected the spent clip, fishing through his pockets for any spare magazines until his eyes widened in horror and disbelief.
He was out of ammo and at the worst possible time.
"I'm out," he shouted to his cousin.
"What the fuck do you mean you're out numb nuts?" Donnie shouted back as the Banshee found its way back to paved road.
"I mean that I'm out of fucking ammo you fucking dipshit!" Artie hollered resisting the urge to smack his cousin upside the head.
"Well nice going dipshit! Your timing is impeccable," the elder Cappelli cried back in sarcasm.
"Just shut the fuck up and focus on doing whatever the hell you're here for!" Artie cried back, holding onto his seat as the Banshee approached a deep dip in the road and was sent airborne.
The sports car hit the road with a loud crunch that shook the entire car and would have likely sent both cousins flying from their seats had they not been strapped in.
Fortunately the Schafter had hit the ground hard and lost control as a resort, sending one of the shooters flying out as he attempted to return fire and hitting the pavement with a spine snapping crunch, his misery ended after he collided with the Banshee's front bumper.
With the last distraction out of his way Donnie slammed the pedal to the floor until he was nearly alongside the car and let loose upon his target, riddling the car with ammo until his Uzi again clicked empty and he was handing the emptied gun to his cousin for a reload.
The Banshee was again rammed from behind and Donnie snuck a peek over his shoulder at another cruiser on their tail, "Shit, you'd better handle this one Cuz!"
With a nod Artie waited patiently for the convertible to draw closer to the Schafter and let loose another volley, watching as one of the silhouettes in the backseat lurched violently, but unable to tell if it had been the same man they were after.
Hopeful he had scored the fatal kill shot he turned his attention to the tires and peppered the vehicle with another barrage, piercing one of the rear tires and sending the sedan side swiping a parked Manana, yet somehow the driver held on and kept it on the road as it blew through another intersection without regard to the traffic signs and now raced along the road overlooking the nearby Lake Bitchagan.
"You better finish that fucker fast!" Donnie shouted as a bullet whizzed past his head.
Grunting in frustration, Artie fired away hoping to hit the car's gas tank, yet the driver moved along too quickly for him to get it.
Still, he had enough ammo to continue hammering away at the rival sedan and within seconds there were flames shooting out from beneath the luxury sedan's loosened hood.
"Hell yeah," Donnie whooped as he watched the black and gold car go skidding down the hillside and explode into one demented fireworks show, debris raining down upon the nearby fishing boats.
"Don't celebrate just yet. We've still got those fuckers on our tail," Artie said pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to the cruisers still chasing after them.
"You two losers in the Banshee," a voice called out from above, "You are in serious violations of more city ordinances than we can count! Pull over and we might just consider bringing your worthless punk asses in alive!"
Artie looked up to see a blue and white R.C.P.D. Maverick hovering over them, its pilot glaring menacingly down upon them.
"We're not fucking around you assholes! We will open fire!"
"Then why haven't you fuckers done it?" Donnie shouted back.
"Donnie, shut the fuck up!" Artie replied slapping him hard on the shoulder.
"Well I don't see you offering any solutions jackass," the elder Cappelli retorted.
He was right. Without any bullets left the younger Cappelli was left with little options and was hard pressed for anything else.
"C'mon, think damn it! Think!" he muttered to himself just as his phone slipped out of his pocket and then it suddenly hit him.
Randy!
Artie scooped up the phone before it could fall to the floor and began shuffling through his list of contacts until he happened across the hacker's name and hit the speed dial button.
"C'mon, pick up!" he grumbled listening impatiently to the ringing from the other end.
"Cuz, this is ain't no time to be calling for a hooker right now," Donnie shouted over to him as he swerved to dodge a cab that had been moving too slowly in front of them.
"Shut up! I'm calling somebody who can help!" he shouted back to his cousin, breathing a brief sigh of relief as the phone clicked on.
"Randy-" Artie spoke, only to be cut off by a woman's screams of ecstasy, "Shit, Randy are you there? Pick up!"
"I'm here Artie…what's up dude?" the ex-cashier replied, his tone rushed.
"Randy, stop watching fucking porn man. I need your help!" Artie screamed into the phone as Donnie took another sharp turn to avoid a patrol car coming at them from the opposite lane, the gunshots nearly deafening him.
"What's going on over there? And no, I wasn't watching porn!" Randy shouted back.
"Bullshit!" the errand boy shouted back, "Listen, you said you can hack into the R.C.P.D.'s database, right?"
"Only when they haven't notified N.O.O.S.E. or the F.I.B., I'm not that much of a daredevil," the hacker replied.
Artie looked around, but couldn't see any silver Patriots or black cars coming towards him, "Okay, well it looks like those bastards aren't on our trail, but listen we've got cops chasing us down and we need to get them off our ass right away. Can you call them off for us?" Artie pleaded looking over his shoulder to see two cruisers closing in on the damaged Banshee.
"Alright, give me a few seconds and I'll have them gone," Randy replied and the ticking of his fingers waltzing across his keyboard were heard.
"Hurry, we don't have much time left!" Artie shouted as he saw smoke beginning to billow out from beneath Donnie's hood.
"Hold on, just a second…and…there! Okay, they should be pulling back in a few seconds!"
"Thanks man, I owe you one!" Artie smiled switching his phone off.
Surely enough, the cousins watched as the patrol cars suddenly halted and turned away, the Maverick following suit.
When he was confident the law enforcement had lost interest, Donnie pulled the shot up car to a halt in a nearby parking lot and switched it off.
"Wow, that was close," the elder Cappelli gasped reclining in his mangled seat.
"You're telling me," Artie added, his heartbeat slowing as he took a couple deep breaths, finally able to relax.
"Thanks Cuz, I owe you one," Donnie rasped, reaching into his pocket and producing a rolled up stack of bills, "Here, that's your cut for helping me."
"Anytime," Artie groaned accepting the stack of bills and reclining in his own mangled seat, feeling the cool breeze from Lake Bitchagan washing over him.
It was a rather serene setting in the small park before them, where a small group of students practiced Tai Chi in the distance and a hipster could be seen sitting on a nearby bench sketching the scene before him.
A short Chinese man stood behind a stall belonging to the Punk Noodles franchise and Donnie exited the mangled Banshee to go over and purchase some food, coming back with two orders of steaming noodles, one for him and one for Artie.
"Here, have this one on me Cuz," he said handing his cousin the small box.
"Thanks," Artie exhaled deeply, the enticing aroma assailing his nostrils and drawing him in, wolfing it down with the vigor of a cannibal on a battlefield.
"No problem, maybe Diego will hook me up with his hot big titted cousin now that I've done this little favor for him," Donnie said before forking in a mouthful.
"Do my ears deceive me? Is Donatello Cappelli finally settling down with ONE woman?" Artie asked, blinking repeatedly at the notion.
"Nah, but ever since I've met her I've made it my mission to get Lil' Donnie between those fun bags of hers," the elder cousin chuckled.
"Okay, I think that's enough info, but thank you anyway Cuz," Artie replied, never interested in hearing of his cousin's numerous sexcapades.
"Now that we've got this out of the way, I'm gonna have to take Bianca in to get fixed up. Gonna cost me a pretty penny though," Donnie said patting the crumpled door of his beloved Banshee, "Don't you worry dear, I swear I will never put you through anything like this ever again, I swear it. That evil prick wasn't supposed to have a decoy with him like that," he said while patting his car, speaking in the tone of a father attempting to console a child who had fallen and scraped her knee, once again leaving Artie shuddering.
"Alright, well I think I'm gonna let you get that out of the way then," the hitman said showing himself out of the convertible and tossing the empty Punk Noodles container into a nearby trashcan. "Don't worry about me, I'll take a cab."
"Sure thing, see ya' later Cuz!" Donnie waved back starting up the car and disappearing from sight.
"Not the ideal way to be starting off the day," Artie Cappelli muttered to himself as he checked out a young woman jogging past him when his phone started ringing again.
He looked down to see it was Monica Belding and he switched the phone on only to be met by a frantic shriek.
"Artie! Artie are you there?" she screamed.
"Whoa relax, I'm here Monica! Slow down, what's happening?"
She breathed heavily before replying, "I think someone's following me again. I was over at the Supa Save in LaFollette and I saw some weird guy looking me up and down when I was over in the frozen foods section. I tried losing him, but he kept following me and now I think he could still be following me!"
Normally he would have written off such an occurrence as the case of a jilted lover stalking the woman who wouldn't leave her husband and run away with him to the Bahamas, but then he remembered what had happened the last time he ran into Monica and how that hitman had gotten away after a long drawn out chase.
Could the same guy be after her again?
"Artie please! Are you there?" she whimpered.
"I'm still here relax! Where are you now?"
"I'm heading over to my house. Please, it's the only safe place I can think of!" she whined.
"Jesus Fucking Christ lady, your house should be the absolute last place you should be at a time like this," Artie thought to himself looking across the street to find another Ammu-Nation gun store, "Alright, just hold on tight. I'll be over in a few minutes!"
"Oh god…god please hurry!" she bellowed before the line went dead.
Artie bolted across the street and into the store, running over to the nearest rack and grabbing a H&K G36 assault rifle and a whole bunch of clips for it, wanting to play it safe after his recent ordeal, some spare clips for his empty Beretta M9, and an AA-12 auto assault shotgun along with some Frag-12 explosive rounds. He also scooped up a fresh Kevlar vest and knowing he had been spotted by the cops, also grabbed a balaclava which only left holes for his eyes to see through.
With the necessary armaments gathered he approached the register, where a redheaded man in a dark red Carcer City Unicorns hoodie stood with the latest edition of 'The Modern Gunman' in hand, looking up as the hired gun approached.
"Will that be all today?" the man replied in a thick British accent.
"Sure thing," Artie replied placing his merchandise on the counter.
"Heh, be packin' pretty lightly for 'round these 'ere parts," the man chuckled while ringing up his order, "Can I interest you in a rewards membership card? Half off all armor piercing rounds until the end of the month, plus if you sign up now you're in for a trip to Las Venturas for the American Guns and Ammo Society's annual Rock Against Russkies charity and concert. I hear Love Fist is reuniting for that gig."
"Not right now, I'm kind of in a hurry," Artie shot back looking down to his phone for the time.
"You mean you're gonna be passin' up on the chance to blast a few commies? What's wrong with ya'?" the cashier chided.
"I kinda' have a woman who needs to be saved and I really don't have time for this bullshit," the hitman shot back, trying to maintain his composure with the overzealous clerk.
"Hmph, suit yourself then," the cashier scoffed, "Soundin' pretty pussy whipped if ya' ask me, be passin' up some fine artillery for some small bird. You're startin' to sound like one of those Kretchell supporters, y'know the hardcore libs tryin' to let their old ladies push them around, tryin' to shit all over your Constitution."
"Heh, what's it to you anyway bub? You're obviously not from around these parts," Artie spat, taking a jab at the man's cockney accent, "You'd probably be getting yourself laid too if you weren't putting guns before bitches."
"Well your boys mighta' kicked our boys asses back in the Revolutionary War, but ya' still gots the best when it comes to hardware, the Russians and the Germans ain't got shit on your guns," the clerk continued, "Plus your women have the best fake tits."
Artie shook his head at the annoying man and then noticed a large sign on the wall behind the man.
"Notice: This store IS NOT monitored by surveillance cameras. Surveillance cameras are for pussies when you are in a gun shop."
He then noticed the moose head hanging on the wall above the man and withdrew his Beretta M9 and fired a lone round, knocking the stuffed head from its perch and causing it to land right over the man's head.
"Hey, what in the bloody hell gives!" the clerk called out, his voice muffled by the moose head.
"It's what you get for being annoying," Artie said under his breath making his way back outside and looking around for a means of transportation.
"Alright, where are you?" he asked looking around at the passing cars until a royal blue Buffalo came slowly passing by, "Jackpot!" he exclaimed before running over to the car and yanking its passenger side door open.
"Sorry ma'am, but I'm gonna need to borrow your car," the hitman said pointing his Beretta M9 into the young woman's face.
"Oh my god, get outta my car you maniac! Somebody help me! Please help!" she screamed at the top of her lungs raising her arms to bat away at the hired gun.
Eventually Artie managed to reach over and open the woman's door and with an additional struggle shoved her out onto the pavement.
"Thank you very much and have a great day!" the hired gun sarcastically shouted pulling himself into the driver's seat and slipping on the seatbelt, switching the car's radio over to Radio GX, playing "We Die Young" by Alice in Chains.
"Just hold tight, I'm coming," Artie thought peeling down the street, just as the woman pushed herself back to her feet and some other streetwalkers rushed over to see what the commotion was.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
With a loud gasp, Eric Van Winkle pulled himself out of the water, weighed down by his once expensive suit that had now been ruined by the sooty water of Lake Bitchagan.
"Foul profligates," the heir gasped coughing up another mouthful of water before rolling over onto his back and looking out towards the water, where the remnants of his Schafter jutted out from the water and floating nearby he could see the charred remnants of his driver Bernhard lying face down.
Unknown to his pursuers, he had thrown open his door and managed to roll out before the car could explode, ending up in the water.
He had no idea who would want him dead, but he would eventually find out and was determined to make them pay for their transgression.
Pushing himself back to his feet he climbed the hill and soon found himself back on the sidewalk, where a young man on a lime green Ventoso moped came to a halt.
"Hey buddy, are you alright? I saw the explosion-" the man spoke, only to be knocked out cold by a hard backhand.
Reaching down Eric rummaged through the man's pockets and found his cell phone. Picking it up he dialed a familiar number and waited impatiently until an older man picked up.
"Who is this? I told you already I do not donate to charity unless you're ready to repay my kindness," the man spat.
"Father, it's me," Eric replied.
"Eric, where have you been? You were supposed to be at the airport over an hour ago for your flight to the Caribbean!"
"Some fools tried to kill me. They took out my body double and Bernhard along with several of our men!" the younger man spat, thinking of all the time, effort and money they would need to spend in finding a replacement body double for him.
"Who? Who did this?" his father demanded, "Who would want you dead? I swear, nobody tries to kill a Van Winkle and gets away with it! Not on your mother's grave!"
"I have no clue father, but I'm going to find out one way or another. You can count on it!"
"Very well, shall I send a car to pick you up?" Mr. Van Winkle asked.
"That won't be necessary…for now at least," Eric replied climbing on the Ventoso.
"Very well, just get back over here to the estate at once! We have much planning to do."
"I'll be over in a few minutes," Eric said before switching off the phone and tossing it into a nearby trashcan.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: And so concludes yet another original installment of "Rushmore City" from yours truly!
And now onto the numerous parodies and references:
Long rod is a spoof of the long john doughnut and Dr. Gill is a parody of Dr. Phil. Murdermania is a spoof of Wrestlemania, with a nod to SR3's Murderbrawl hosted by Killbane.
The Chilton Hotel is a reference to Alexandra "Alex" Chilton from GTA4. They never specify where Alex's family's wealth comes from, but given that she is likely meant to be a spoof of Paris Hilton, I've decided to have it where her family too runs a chain of high luxury hotels.
The "Grand Theft Auto" song is the same song from the GTA1 and 3 soundtracks that Donnie is supposed to be singing along with, figured I would go for an old school nod with that one.
Secret Identities is meant to be a spoof of Let's Pretend from the Saints Row series, in which if this had been an actual video game Artie would be able to go there and find costumes that would enable him to dress up like a ninja, pirate, Luchador, gimp, etc.
Hawking Park is named after Stephen Hawking and is meant to be my take on the Museum district from Stilwater.
The scene with the Roman historical re-enactors was a nod to Caesar's Legion from "Fallout: New Vegas" and the scene with the guy tossing the pilum is a nod to the throwing spears the Legionnaires use. The centurion was an officer in the ancient Roman army who was in command of a century of soldiers.
Lake Bitchagan is an obvious spoof of Lake Michigan.
Eric Van Winkle would be physically inspired by Donald Trump's son Eric, whom I've seen on "Celebrity Apprentice" before. Having him survive the attempted assassination is a nod to Ray Machowski's missions from GTA3 involving taking out his partner Leon McAffrey, the first being "Silence the Sneak," in which Claude was instructed to go to McAffrey's safe house and flush him out, then supposedly take him out, only to find out in "Plaster Blaster" that McAffrey had survived.
Having Eric Van Winkle use a decoy was also inspired by Saints Row, where in some "Hitman" missions you will take out the target, only to find out that it was a body double and that the real guy is trying to get away.
The scene with the moose head falling onto the Ammu-Nation cashier's head was a nod to "Dead Rising 2," in which one of the weapons Chuck is able to use is the moose head. I wanted to have a scene where Artie puts another annoying loudmouth in his place.
Lastly, Donnie having his Banshee named "Bianca" is a nod to real life, "Bianca" being the name which my cousin's wife gave to my car because she thought that it needed "a classy sounding lady's name."
Well I think that's it, so as always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/