.

Chapter 4

Speak of the Devil

Hereford, Great Britain(UTC+0)

14th of May 2022, 2318 hrs

The flame waved playfully. Gentle wind coming from the north accompanied the group of soldiers sitting around the campfire. The sound of guitar's strings being carelessly pulled by the Brit, created a pleasant melody slightly drowned out by laughter and conversation.

The older Çağlar watched his teammates dancing and singing, as he peacefully sat on the ground, emptying a bottle of beer. He couldn't lie, that was the best birthday of his life. Celebrating another successful mission, surrounded by friends. Batu smiled to himself, quietly chuckling.

A figure approached him, distracting the Turk from watching the scene. He turned his head, looking up at the person.

"Cumpleaños feliz, Batu." The American smiled and raised his beer bottle, making a toast.

"Teşekkürler, Thomas." Çağlar chuckled. "We're getting old, aren't we?" smirking, the Turk leaned back, stretching his legs out. Looking up at the sky, he allowed the wind to gently caress his body, letting out a silent sigh.

"Oh, don't remind me. I'm turning 36 in September. Though, I'm starting to think that my bones are getting older even faster than me." Garcia took a seat next to him.

"My spine calls for vengeance to heaven sometimes." the man chuckled. "The bulletproof vests weigh a lot, not gonna lie."

"Mhm… though from what I have heard, Mira is working on a lighter alternative for Rook's armor plates. So maybe my poor joints will get some redemption."

"Whoo, hello there boys! Mind if I join you?" The familiar voice made both men stop their conversation. Skowron's voice sounded more croaky than usually. The way he dragged out the words in combination with his accent made him sound almost like Aleksandr.

Batu raised his eyebrows, snorting, being slightly amused by his teammate state. He considered the soldier shy and rather quiet when surrounded by a lot of people. But right now, the Pole seemed to have fun. Watching them from across the meadow, the Turk was glad to see him and his sister talking with Del, who was playing the guitar.

Selin, being the one more open from Çağlar siblings, seemed to quickly find her line of understanding with Artyom. Just like the Turk, Skowron was an engineer, offering her help with maintaining her gadget. If Batu recalled correctly the man was also deployed to Iraq around the same time when the Turkish army was operating in the area, so they had similar experience when it came to the work.

"Hey Artyom. Sure thing, come'ere, buddy."

The Pole plopped down on the ground, hitting his back on the grass. "Ah, cholera…" he muttered, placing his hands under his head.

"Damn, man, how much have you drunk?" Garcia chuckled, looking at the not-so-sober soldier.

"Should I count it in bottles or liters?" the man laughed. "Even though I drank more than Del and Selin, I'm still definitely less drunk than both of them. Dima brought some vodka he stole from Tachanka, so they're having fun over there." hearing that, the Turk swore, rapidly lifted himself from the ground, and started walking into the direction pointed by the Pole. "Though it's Absolut! Clear 40%, it tastes like rubbing alcohol, so I'm pretty sure they won't drink it all at once!" he called out to Batu, laughing.

Thomas also chuckled, seeing the annoyed older Çağlar, approaching the two friends. The scene looked quite ridiculous considering the size difference between the Brit and the Turk.

"Sooo…" Artyom rolled on his side, looking at the American. "You and Del. Is it something serious?"

The question hung in the air like an eagle above its prey. Seeing Thomas' surprised look, he added. "Sorry, not to be nosy or anything. Del just couldn't stop yapping about how great you are, so I assumed that there is something going on between you two."

Garcia remained quiet for a few seconds, making Skowron wonder if he didn't misinterpret something. Biting his lip, the Pole carefully watched his teammate's reaction.

"Well… I guess so." Thomas' cheeks got red as he awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

"Good for you then."

The raucous voice pierced the air, making the soldiers turn their heads toward the source of it.

"Poor Del." Skowron shook his head.

"I told him to not go overboard. He got what he deserved." Thomas rolled his eyes, laughing.

"So it's serious, but not serious enough to stand up and protect him from an angry Turk, huh?"

"Exactly." the American smirked.

"Hassiktir, Selin, hayir! Del put that bottle down, you small bastard!" The Turk held Lawson by his shirt collar. "I swear, you two are impossible. Leaving you unattended for two minutes…" Batu sighed heavily.

Selin rolled her eyes, muttering something in turkish. Taking the last sip from the bottle, she handed it back to Dima, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Dear god, if Tachanka finds out he will rip all of you apart." the man said.

"Let them be. Kids are having fun, you should too. It's your birthday, isn't it?" a smirk appeared on the Czech's face.

Bruno Sykora, man in his late forties, with a little bit overgrown brown hair. His hazel eyes shined in the dark, reflecting the burning fire. The man's face seemed so unnaturally soft and relaxed, making the usual grumpy expression disappear. Çağlar released his grip, chuckling.

"Even you, sir?"

"Nah, my lips haven't touched any drink today's evening. Maybe except for water and my favorite orange juice. I'm just in a good mood, soldier." he crossed his arms looking at Batu.

"That's new."

"Oh, c'mon I am not that grumpy."

"You are, sir."

Bruno didn't answer that. He just shook his head, while a big smile appeared on his face. Well, he couldn't lie, sometimes he might have been a grumpy old man for the soldiers. But in his defense, most of the time he was feeling as if he was taking care of a group of unruly teenagers. The Czech had never questioned their military experience, though the behavior outside of the operations made him have a breakdown more than once.

Today, however, his mood couldn't be ruined by anything. The team finally got on the right track with their investigation.

"I was joking, sir. You're a great guy and I owe you for today. That was a close call and if not for your quick reaction, I would get a bullet in my back."

"That's alright. And stop with the sir thing. It makes me feel older than I already am. Just call me Bruno."

Harry leaned back on his hair, chuckling. Sitting quite far from the campfire, he was carefully observing the scene, making extensive notes. From time to time he flipped through the pages of his worn out notebook with a beautiful leather cover.

It was rare to see him using it instead of the dictaphone. The Director seemed to be more of the technology guy, but apparently he never got rid of the good old pocketbook.

"What's so funny, Harry?" The older man kept his arms crossed, giving the Hindu a slightly confused look.

Sam didn't understand why he was invited by the director to come for the campfire. Currently he wasn't the one responsible for the training for the new operators. Situation with Nighthaven seemed to be escalating instead of being calmed down, which pushed him into the role of the leader of the investigation. He had a lot on his shoulders, so wasting his time on such idiotic activities instead of attempting to localize the Architect, annoyed him.

"Look at Bruno."

"What about him?" the American raised his eyebrows. Sometimes he really wished he understood what was going on in the director's head.

"Just look at him."
"I ain't a psychologist, Harry. I can't tell what has changed."

"He's smiling." Pandey closed his notebook. "Throughout the years he hated integration activities like this. But now, he's having fun." the man chuckled again. "He will be a great team captain."

"Team captain? You want him to take over Ghosteye?"

"No, no." Six shook his head. "I would never take Taina's team away from her. She developed a lot since she was assigned to lead the team. I'm quite satisfied with Ghosteye's performance and I bet you're too. We're on good track to localize the Architect and get Nighthaven's HQ schematics." Pushing the glasses up his nose, Harry tilted his head. "During the first Six Invitational I couldn't really figure out the reason why Doc and Caveira had such problems with finding a line of understanding. Now, I think we can say that it was the classic situation of "The unstoppable force meeting the immovable object". Choosing them as captains of Wolfguard and Ghosteye was the best decision we could have made. Not only did it lower the tension to minimum, it also allowed them both to progress. Hibana and Thermite are another story, however not any less interesting. Healthy competition between those two allows them to heal the wound that Pulse made by leaving the Team."

Sam kept quiet. He knew that there was no way to stop Harry's monologue, except for letting him finish. Not as he found it annoying, no. Maybe just at this moment. But the way that Pandey was speaking was the best explanation for the question "Why him?". In comparison with Aurelia he was winning on every single level. The lack of his military experience might have seemed like a misconception, since he got assigned to be the leader of the most elite counterterrorist unit in the whole wide world. But Harry understood one thing that many other great, high-ranked soldiers couldn't- the Team's power was in their unity.

"You know what connects all those people here?"

"If you expect the answer, then again- I'm not a psychologist, Harry.

"They couldn't find their place in any of the teams. Not in the Wolfguard, not in the Ghosteye, nor Redhammer, nor Viperstrike. But none of them left for Nighthaven either." The Hindi got up, heading towards the group sitting at the campfire. "They are the new team. Thermotouch team."

Sam was left alone, sitting in the dark with a drink in his hand.

"Oh, screw you Harry." he chuckled to himself. "I'll never find out what's on your mind." Fisher rubbed his temples, looking at the fire and the soldiers.

Hannover, Germany (UTC+1)

13th of December 2022, 1934 hrs

The air was filled with cigarette smoke, the smell of cannabis and alcohol. It's been a long time since Dominic visited a place like this. He definitely wean himself from that type of surrounding. But he couldn't say that he missed it.

A sudden burst of laughter from his left side, made him slightly tensing his muscle, but nothing more. Sitting at the bar, by the movement of his hand he called a bartender.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"One Mojito."

The woman nodded her head and started making the drink. Nothing has changed since his last visit here. Screams of despair or joy, depending whether somebody was winning or losing tons of money in casino's games. He wondered how many of the people playing here knew that every single game was previously set up, lowering the chances for a win down to minimum. The House always wins. He ran a place for over a year and always found himself feeling guilty about all those addicts, losing their last money.

"There you go." The girl was young, probably barely over 18 years old. Her long blond hair gently waved on her back.

"Danke." Brunsmeier took a sip from his glass. "Hey, do you know where I could catch your boss?"
"Der Chef? I don't think he is accepting guests right now"

"Could you give him this? I'm pretty sure that he'll want to talk if he hears that Mr. Schölz is here."

Sliding the patch on the counter, Dominic carefully watched the girl's reaction. Her eyes widened as she saw the patch. Freezing in place, she stared for a few seconds at the skull logo.

Slightly pushing out her lower lip, she pinched her eyes.

"Definitely too young to work here…" the German thought, sighing. Resting his head on his hand, he took a sip of the green cocktail. The alcohol pleasantly scratched the back of his throat as the girl disappeared in the back.

"It might be Friday the 13th, but you're lucky today." The girl chuckled, emerging from the backstore after a long moment. "He will meet you in a few minutes."
"Wunderbar." Dominic smiled, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Everything was going according to plan. At least for now.

Walking through the long corridor with the bloody red carpet covering the floor, they stopped in front of the door. The sign Der Chef shined in the dim lights. The girl knocked on the door and after a short "Come in." she pushed it wide open.

Behind the desk there was a balding man in his forties, tapping his fingers on the counter. The whiskey in his glass waved he moved a little harder, he would have spilled a few drops for sure.

"My assistant had already introduced you, so let's skip that. What is the Black Jackets' right hand doing in my office?" His raspy voice echoed in the room as the door closed behind Dominic.

"Business offer." The man smirked, taking a seat in front of him. "We're looking for specific types of weapons. And if my informants didn't lie to me, which I really hope they did not, cause I'll break their legs personally, your organization is in possession of them."

He took a quick glance to his right. They weren't alone. Two guards were standing next to the other door, their arms crossed, faces covered by balaclavas. Two guards, two pistols. The German could bet on his life that the boss himself was also armed. Fucking this up won't end well.

"Oh… Herr Schölz…" the man chuckled, leaning back on his chair. "Or maybe I should call you Herr Brunsmeier, huh?" a smile didn't disappear from his face, while he reached out his hand for a cigar. With the other arm, he pushed the glass towards his guest. "Between courage and stupidity there is a really thin line. And coming here was an act of pure stupidity."

"That was surprisingly fast." The man thought.

"Brunsmeier sounds like a cool name. I would pick it if I was an undercover cop." Operator took a sip of whiskey from the glass. His mask had been brutally dropped and the only thing that was left to save his ass was not showing fear.

"Still acting like a fucking brat. I'd recognise you with my eyes gouged out, you cheeky bastard." he laughed, letting out a cloud of smoke. "Nothing has changed, I see. Well, police officers are not welcomed here. Especially police officers who fucked around being undercover for a few years. So, let me say the things clearly. You have thirty seconds to explain why the fuck are you here before I kill you."

Without hesitation Bandit stretched his legs out, putting them on the desk separating him and the gang leader. Glancing ostentatiously at the man caused a nostalgic feeling to hit him. Old, good times you would say. Not so long ago he was the one sitting behind the desk and ordering people around.

There still were the days when it hit him. Waking up in the middle of the night, barely catching his breath. The work as an undercover cop left an invisible scar on his soul. All the terrible things he was made to do to keep his mask on. Somehow, that made him glad that this time, his cover was blown almost immediately.

Still taking his sweet time, Dominic slipped a crumpled photo out of the pocket of his black leather jacket. He loved the worn out texture. There was nothing better than running his hand on it.

"QCR. Does it tell you something?" he tapped his finger on the glass. "Of course it does. We tracked down one of the stolen transports. It led to your suppliers, who we paid a small visit. Don't worry, we tried to be as polite as possible." smiling, he pushed the glass toward the gangster. "And this leads us to… you. Hell's Angels to be precise."

"Even if you come back with a search warrant you won't find shit."

"Yeah, you're right. We have already found the weapons."

The man raised his eyebrows, pouring more whiskey to his glass. His hand steady, but tensed just like Dominic's body. He had seen it too many times not to recognise the stress building up. Der Chief's attitude reeked of fear.

"Then what the fuck are you doing in my office?"

Rather than answer the question, Brunsmeier stopped trying to straighten out the photo and placed it on the desk. He tapped his finger on it, before turning it upside down for the man to see it.
"Masayuki Yahata. The owner and founder of Yahata Data Security." The operator took legs off the desk and leaned forward to the man. "Murdered six months ago."

"Took you long enough to get to us, huh?"

Dominic rolled his eyes, brushing off the comment.

"So, will you tell me where the rest of the weapons are or are we doing this the other way, where I call my buddies?"

"I don't give a fuck about Yahata."

"Although after using his network for two years, you realized that he was collecting all the data about Hells Angels and handing it to the police?"

"Listen, like I said. I don't give a fuck." The man turned on his chair to the two guards. "Kill him. Get rid of the body, as fast as possible. Drop the corpse in the river or melt it in the acid. I don't care, as long as you get this piece of shit out of my eyesight."

The guards exchanged a quick glance, before their hands went down to their guns. Dominic could feel his muscles tense, when the shining pistol pointed at him.

A single shot pierced the air. The sound was muffled by the suppressor attached to the pistol's barrel. The room was filled with moans of pain a second later. One of the guards was rolling on the floor, crying out and holding his knee. The bullet went straight through the kneecap, probably getting stuck inside.

The surprised look on the gang's leader's face didn't last long.

"Ah, you fucking bastard." he laughed, raising his hands. "Oh, this one was a good one. See you're not out of practice… I would clap, but it seems like your friend is already a little bit annoyed."

"For a second I thought you would let him shoot me." Bandit chuckled, crossing his arms.

"Kateb dislikes me enough, don't you think?" Olivier rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, let's talk now, shall we?" Dominic stood up, leaning forward on the desk. "Why did you kill Yahata?"

The man laughed, shaking his head. The look he gave the operator, caused the feeling of shock mixed with anxiety.

"But I've already told you, Brunsmeier. I don't give a fuck about Yahata. Yes, he was a prick in my ass, but it wasn't enough to waste my resources to go to fucking Japan and kill him." he shrugged, as the wild satisfaction arised on his face.

"But the serial numbers of the weapons matched with-..."

"You're missing the point, my boys. We don't have those guns anymore. We sold them."

"To who?"

"To whoever paid enough."

"Be specific."

The man looked up, as if he was looking for an answer in his memory, his lips pursed thin. It took a few seconds for his eyes to look back at the operator.

"How about go fuck yourself? Oh and maybe don't shit your pants."

Bandit rolled his eyes. Obviously he said that. Why would he say anything else? The gang leader wasn't going to give up so easily, at least not as easily as the soldier would like.

"Your choice." he said in a plain tone, nodding his head at Lion. "Call the GSG9 to close the party."

The French man reached out for his radio, but as soon as the gang leader spoke up, he raised his head.

"Rokudaime, Krejčíř organization, Tbilisi Clan. Last transport went to the Dead Order, two weeks ago."

Brunsmeier frowned, resting the hands on his hips. What the hell this guy was up to? He knew that right now the man was desperate, but his answer didn't make any sense.

"Dead Order? Why the hell are you selling weapons to your competitors?"

"Oh, c'mon, isn't that obvious? Working undercover you should know that saying pretty well." he gave Dominic a deadpan look.

It took him a few seconds of staring blankly at the man like an idiot to understand what he meant.

"Keep the friends close and the enemies even closer." he whispered, more as if he was talking to himself.

"Congratulations. I told you what you wanted to know. Now, can you get the fuck out of my casino?" For the first time today, the man frowned, letting his voice become an angry tone. Pure hate pouring out of his words.

"I'm afraid it won't be possible." Bandit said, giving Flament a heads up again. "Tell the police they're good to go. We're done here."

Hereford, Great Britain (UTC+0)

14th of December 2022, 1056 hrs

Léja stretched her legs out. Putting them up, right in front of Sam's face, she moved her finger across the screen. By the corner of her eye she caught a grim expression appearing on the American's face. That old prick Zero always annoyed her, just like Thacher. Especially after how she got her ass kicked during her first training in Rainbow.

"Fuck, so, well. Based on the shipments records which Mr. Old and Ms. Redacted politely stole from our beloved mercenaries, I can say that Nighthaven is not responsible for selling the weapons to the bad guys. I mean, it doesn't change the fact that they are fucking morons. I ran the background check on every single of their investors and clients. Nothing." she rubbed her temples. "So I guess we can assume that Nighthaven is not directly responsible for Yahata's death."

"Is there any possibility that they sold it off record?"

"Fuck no, I highly doubt it." She turned the screen to show the other people sitting in the room.. "Everything is registered. To produce additional weapons, they would have to hide even the fucking amount of materials they've ordered. I bet that Anja is the one in charge of keeping the records in such a state. Every single gram of metal used in QCR's factory is written the files."

"That's great news. What about Dead Order then?"

The korean was tapping finger on the device screen. After a few seconds, a tense, focused expression disappeared from her face.

"I swear, I have never seen worse security in my life." Dokkaebi smiled cheerfully. "I got access to their database."

"Splendid." Harry clapped his hands. "We'll send Redhammer and Ghosteye to secure the site."

"Why them?" Bruno, who was sitting quietly throughout most of the time, spoke up. "They already have a lot on their plates. Kali started to show off too much recently, they need to calm her down before she starts a war."

"Less work for us, Bruno. Don't complain." the Lithuanian chuckled, taking her legs off the desk.

"Solis is already infiltrating Nighthaven, so it's not your concern. Thermotouch stays on alert, here, in Hereford." Fisher's voice was steady, not showing any emotions. "You're dismissed for now, you deserve some rest."

The room got busy, when all the people gathered there started heading towards the door. Sykora eyed the people leaving the briefing room, staying in place. The last person who stayed inside had his attention. Standing up, he called out. "Six?"

Harishva turned, hearing Czech's voice.

"Yes, Bruno? Everything alright?"

"We need to talk now. Do you have some time?"

Taking a longer moment, the director frowned, trying to read the soldier's intentions. Was it something connected with the freshly finished briefing? Or maybe more of a personal problem?

"Sure. I can even make you a coffee in my office."

The clock ticking in the background felt like bullets shooting out of a revolvers' barrels, piercing Bruno's mind. Pandey set two mugs on the desk and turned on the dictaphone.

"So?"

"Well…" Bruno scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't want to question your choices, Six, but I don't really agree with refusing Dvasia the role in R&D. Again." The Czech frowned. He kept calm, although just by his tense body, Harishva could tell that he was annoyed.

"Léja, she is…" the director stopped for a second, looking for the appropriate word. "Sort of specific. Don't get me wrong, Bruno."

"There are a lot of specific people in the team, Six. She's a great soldier, a great engineer, overall a great asset for the unit. So why the hell are you cutting her wings?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to get comfortable, but the chair felt oddly hard, almost like a rock. He knew that this conversation had to be brought up sooner or later. But right now, he felt not ready. The feeling truly surprised him. Although all the arguments were carefully prepared since his first rejection of Léja's application, at that moment, Harry's mind went completely blank. Maybe because he didn't expect Bruno to be the one coming to talk with him about this.

"It's more about other people working in R&D. Léja needs to learn to respect the laboratory rules. Other personnel has complained more than once that she had been taking their stuff without permission, leaving the place a mess. Her device evaluation was filled with swear words, so half of it went to the trash bin. And she handed it back two months after the deadline. She hasn't come to the tests planned by Maria. She might be a great soldier on the field, but… she's really hard to cooperate with."

"You can say the same thing about a lot of people here, Harry." His name sounded harsh, almost as if it was intended to be offensive.

"I understand that, Bruno, but she really needs to work on her communication skills and start respecting other people's boundaries. She behaves inappropriately."

"I would say that Lawson also behaves like a brat, but it seems like you don't mind it."

"Bruno, please. Del isn't mean for the sake of being mean. But Dvasia is another story."

"That's interesting, cause I see a big difference in her behavior since her first application was denied. She's working on herself, isn't that enough? It's just a stupid title for her badge. It doesn't change much."

"I know that you're trying to take care of your proteges, but I can't do it."

"You can't or you don't want to? Cuz' there is a difference."

Harry took a deep breath, sighing heavily. He hated that he couldn't just agree to the man's request. The decision was even harder considering that Six had nothing personal against the Lithuanian woman. Like he said, she was quite specific, but aside from that Dvasia was a great person.

"I really can't. I'm very happy to see that you bonded with your team, but it's not possible."

"Oh, c'mon Harry. Jesus Christ, you gave me those kids to take care. And now when I want the best for them, I'm the bad one here?" the Czech man leaned back on the seat, crossing his arms. Shaking his head he muttered something under his breath in his native language.
"You're not the bad one, Bruno. I told you, I understand your point and why you want to have Dvasia in Research and Development, but I can't just throw her there, not caring about others opinions. I appreciate all the work you put in helping to develop the team. Really, I do. But this case is off the discussion, I'm sorry."

The silence felt suffocating. As if somebody filled the room with military gas, damaging the lungs little by little. After over a minute without a word uttered, Sykora spoke up, his voice more quiet and sorrowful than earlier.

"Is cutting off Thermotouch from operations some kind of punishment for me? For fuck's sake, Harry, just say things straight."

"No, Bruno. I need to keep the team on guard, in case other problems appear. Just for your information, we can't be sure that the White Masks have been completely destroyed. Since our last hit in Moldova, we haven't heard from them, but it might mean that they are up to something much bigger. I need you here. NH is not our only problem."

"Nighthaven is our biggest problem and enemy right now. Tyraspol happened over half a year ago."

"They are not our enemy. Kali might have made a mistake, but that doesn't mean that we have to arrest her and close the whole unit down."

"Obviously, Kali should be declared a saint." The Czech huffed. "You know that everybody has been keeping your side, but now it's getting ridiculous. Letting Nighthaven in was the biggest mistake you could have ever made. And it'll cost you a lot." Rubbing his hands together, the man took a deep breath. "I stood by you when Ash was ready to murder you for letting PMC into our ranks. I stood by you when Kali was ripping apart our Team, taking away your friends. But I won't keep your side if you'll keep bringing my soldiers down. It's understandable that you might have been hesitantly about assigning us to the more operations, but I think that we had proven ourselves enough, for fuck sake."

"You refuse to hear what I'm saying, Bruno. I tried to explain- I need to have soldiers around in case of terrorist attack. That's our main task as a Team Rainbow." He waited a few seconds, but the expression on Sykora's face didn't change. Hesitantly, Harry continued. "Caveira and Thermite will be the ones to conduct the operation to retrieve the NH's equipment from Dead Order. I won't change my decision, neither in this, nor in Dvasia's case."

"Then I guess we're done." The man said, standing up. "Thank you for the talk, Six." he muttered. His voice was harsh, filled with anger, but still remained steady.

Harry didn't move until the door closed. This definitely wasn't the way he wanted things to go. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. Nothing went according to his plan

Taking the dictaphone, Harishva leaned back on the chair. He stared blankly at the ceiling. He was sure that any second longer and the plaster would start to crack.

"There are the things we know. And then there are the things we don't know. And there are also the things we don't know we don't know. Was the decision I made right? What will be the consequences? Those are the things I don't know. And the longer I try to analyze this situation, I get the feeling that I might have made a mistake. But can I reverse the course of time and fix it? No." The man rubbed his temple. "Only thing that is left for me to do is to accept the consequences. No matter how painful and unpleasant they will be."

Author's notes:
We ballin' I would say.

Big thanks go to Solo and Ellie, for all the help with editing this shit, I love you guys, I really do.