It's Only a Spider

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Sans, Nov 16, 2014.

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  1. "CHESTER!" a voice called from down the stairs.

    Chester opened his eyes and yawned. Was it really eight o'clock already? It felt like he had only slept for a little while. Not to mention the dream he had was incredibly weird. He glanced at the clock. It was 8:12. He scrambled out of bed and climbed over a mountain of clothes. He nearly tumbled down a flight of stairs trying to sprint down them as fast as he could. On the way he snatched a few pieces of toast and thanked his Aunt Janna for making him breakfast on the way out.

    "I'm closing so I'll be home late tonight Aunt Janna," Chester called back as he sprinted towards the door.

    He was going to be late for school. He was sure of it. Chester looked down at his phone and saw that he had exactly one minute before the bell rang. The school wasn't even in sight. He sprinted down the streets of New York and nearly knocked down several people as he did so. He apologized and he was winded by the time he had actually made it to the classroom. The professor was going to kill him. How many times had he been late to class this week? Twice? This would probably be his third. Luckily, the bell rang the moment he sat down. He let out a sigh of relief. That had been way to close.

    Chester's hair was messy as it normally was since he hardly ever got up for school on time. His morning had been a bit rushed. He reached into his back to pull out his text book when something bit him.

    "Ow!" Chester said snatching his hand out of the bag and nearly dropping his text book onto the ground.

    A spider crawled out of his back and he squashed it with his foot. The last thing he needed was a spider bite. He just hoped the bite wouldn't get infected. He adjusted glasses and prepared to listen to today's lecture.
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  2. Marcella wasn't exactly having the best morning. She'd been up all night, prior, due to the ramblings of her moth- She's not our mom, stupid. I know that, so shut up. Correction; her stepmother.

    Who just so happened to currently be yelling at her. Groaning inwardly, the sleep-deprived teenager scurried about her room, gathering her things and stuffing them in her torn-up backpack. Which, consisted of her homework that was scattered all over her falling-apart desk, a thing of tissues, seven pencils(to account four the four that are taken and snapped in half once a day by her favorite senior), two pairs of scissors(one of which she had to rinse some blood off of), and a variety of other trinkets.

    When she realized she was missing her two most important possessions, she looked around frantically, calming only once she had her flip-phone and stress ball in hand. Slinging her bag over her shoulder and dashing down the stairs hurriedly, the girl only barely managed to duck before her step-brother could connect his fist to her face. Nonchalantly, she put his attempts of assault to a stop by kicking him where it hurt. Only seconds after this, she had grabbed a piece of bread and dashed out the apartment door.

    That had been at six-forty-two that morning.

    Marcie had learned that her best shot of surviving in her abusive household was to 'duck, dive, an' dash'. In fact, that was her motto for just about anywhere she went. She wasn't the most attractive, nor the smartest, person out there.. Which lead to her being picked on frequently. It didn't help that she was getting sick.. She knew she was. Every day, she felt herself growing weaker, more exhausted, hopeless... But her stepmother didn't do anything about it. They didn't have the money for adequate medical treatment, and even if they did, her stepfamily most certainly wouldn't be spending it on her.

    Shaking off those thoughts, the seventeen-year-old looked checked her old pocket watch(that she was lucky to still have in her possession) that had been left to her from her father, annoyed to see she only had fifteen minutes to get to school. Ha, ha. What're we waitin' for? I mean, the assholes are callin' can'tcha tell? They're waitin' to take our stuff again, so why aren't we there early to let 'em? Shut up, both of you. There's a simple solution to our problems, y'know~ I've already told you, no. So shut up.

    Trying desperately to ignore the voices in her head, Marcella stood from the bench she'd sat on for the last few hours, rolling her neck before breaking into a walking-run. Err... Speedwalk? Whatever. She didn't care if she was late.. Not anymore. She was too tired to all-out run, and was already paling even from just the speedwalking. She didn't need to make herself worse when she already knew she'd have to waste enough energy on just surviving the school day.

    Soon enough, she had arrived at the school. Relieved to see she had six minutes and twenty-one seconds to spare, she made it to her locker, before heading to class with her binder in hand. Sliding into the classroom with her head down, she made her way to her assigned seat; which, was right in front of Chester's.

    ..Who, wasn't there.

    Surprise, surprise. Here he comes, now.

    When the bell rang, Marcie quietly sorted her materials, a pencil settled on her ear. Are we going for a 'scholarly' look, now? If we are, it's not working. Can I not jus- The train of thought was interrupted when she heard her classmate behind her let out a yelp. Hey... What's his deal? Blinking, she glanced back at him quickly, noticing him gripping his hand. ..Weird. Snapping out it, she looked forward, rigid in her seat despite her extreme fatigue.
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  3. Chester tried his best to focus on the lecture, but he suddenly couldn't even see through his own glasses. He took them off his face to clean them only to realize that his vision was perfect. He blinked thinking he was just hallucinating, but he really didn't need his glasses. With a perplexed look on his face he set his glasses down next to his textbook. Chester could barely contain his amazement as he realized that from where he sat in the classroom, which was the second to last seat in the back, that he could see what the teacher was writing. He was feeling amazing. Chester sat back in his chair in an attempt to calm himself down. He had too much energy for the time being and he felt like he could run a mile. Just then, he felt as though something was going to hit him in the back of the head. He ducked and then cringed as the pencil hit the back of Marcella's head.

    Some guys were snickering behind him and instantly he was irritated. That pencil had been meant for him, but there was no reason that Marcella should have had to take the hit for it. Secondly, he was almost certain he shouldn't have known that pencil was coming for him. They were behind him after all. What the heck is going on with me? The spider bite had almost completely disappeared. The only sign that he had been bitten were two very small puncture wouldn't the size of an ink dot. He was thankful when the bell rang and he scrambled out of his seat. Not because he was excited to leave, but there was no way Zack was going to let the fact that he got away unscathed go.

    Zack was already after Chester, "Come here Du Fala!"

    Of course Chester was still clumsy and he tripped on to the floor. When he looked up, he saw Zack towering over him, meaty fists and all ready to pummel him.

    "Did you get my homework done?" Zack asked him.

    "No, but I got my homework duh- AH!" Chester said as a meaty fist nearly collided with his face.

    "Stop squirming!" Zack shouted.

    By this time there was a huge crowd just watching the scene. Chester dodged every blow and simply watched as Zack's hand became more and more bruised with each collision to the floor. Nobody helped Chester, though it wasn't like he needed it, but still, no one went to get a teacher or anything?
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  4. Marcella tapped her fingers quietly on her desk, finding that even though the school day had barely started, she was already bored. Her lower neck was aching, and it hurt to even sit upright. So, she had her chin rested on her hand, watching the teacher quietly. She showed no interest in the lesson, though she occasionally would jot down a note or two. In all honesty, right now? School was the last thing she was worrying about. I could die tomorr-

    The thought was cut off when she felt the wooden writing utensil hit her in the back of her head. She bit her tongue to keep from making a sound, silently turning her head to glance back for the source. And, of course what she saw was a hunched over Chester and a giggling Zack. Gritting her teeth, her glare at the male was only drawn away when she was scolded by the teacher for not facing forward. Silently, she turned away, shifting slightly.

    He'll regret that, later.. Won't he? Duh. I don't care if we're dying, bitch. We can spend our last days giving those jack-asses hell! That was the thing... You see, it was typical for bad things to happen to people if they picked on Marcella. Well, not even just her.. If she caught you picking on someone, or even got just a glance of it, something's bound to happen to you.

    It's just that nobody assumes the small girl is capable of it. But oh, are they wrong. Her stature was part of what was great for getting off the hook easily; nobody expects she could do anything. That, combined with her great stealth and seemingly kind demeanor.. Well, if she strikes in the dark, nobody knows it's her.

    So, naturally, when she got up to exit the classroom and saw Zack chasing Chester out, she calmly went up to the teacher, after peeking out the door to confirm her suspicions. "'Scuse me, Mr. Moore, but there's a fight going on outside the classroom," she stated, voice fairly hoarse. However, the teacher didn't budge, only kept looking through his papers. This caused a certain seventeen-year-old's eyes to narrow. "You know it's in the teacher's policy you have to put any violence on campus to a stop, yes?" Again, there was no response. Outright glaring at the teacher, Marcie went on. "...If someone were to find out about this, you could very well be fired, sir." She said, matter-of-factly. This caused the teacher to blink in surprise, before he got up and went into the hallway.

    Jeez... Even our teachers are assholes. Who cares? I just want food. You guys make me sick. HAHAHAHA! We're funny! We ARE sick. Shaking her head, Marcella was the last to leave the classroom, triumphantly brushing past the crowd to go to her next class, not giving the scene even the slightest glance. Though, she was grinning faintly. Zacky-pooh's gonna be pissy. I mean, even that numbskull could put the pieces together. We were the last to leave, and Moore came out only just before us. Daw, who cares? We can take 'em. Sorry guys.. You're overestimating him. I don't think the guy could even figure out how to put together one of those stupid baby puzzles. I love us.

    She couldn't help feeling bad for Chester sometimes. The guy really needed to learn to stick up for himself... Sure, she didn't exactly do that in the school environment, herself. Then again; she was constantly kicking ass outside of school.

    ...Well, except for on the days she merely laid around in bed all day, sweating and shaking. The fatigue got worse than she could handle sometimes, and the fevers rose unnaturally. But yet.. There was still no way she could get treatment. She'd die well before her step-family would give enough of a damn to pay to fix her.

    By the time she had gotten to her next class, she felt just about ready to collapse. Which, she did; right into her back-of-the-class corner seat. A small groan escaped her, and she was suddenly glad for the seat she'd been given. Maybe she could sleep a bit.. Silly us. Sleep doesn't help, remember? Don't remind me. Aww, no need to be so grumpy! We could at least sleep off the sweat and fever, if we're lucky. OR we could stop this whole dumb routine and go somewhere where we can actually get help. I'd like to hear you list off somewhere that would be willing to help street-trash like us. Wellll.....
  5. Chester continued to squirm until Mr. Moore was doing the least he could to break up him and Zack. He was thankful that he wasn't bruised this time around.

    "Both of you, to the principle's office, NOW," Mr. Moore pointed down the hallway.

    Zack shoved Chester into a locker on the way there and the whole mess nearly started all over again. Chester decked Zack square in the jaw nearly knocking out the other boy's teeth. He blinked a few times as Zack stumbled to the floor and groaned in agony. Chester's timing couldn't have been worse as Principle Brown had peeked out of his office just in time to view what had happened. He could feel himself sinking. He knew he was in deep trouble this time, but it was still worth it. Zack finally got what was coming to him. Principle Brown shook an accusatory finger at Chester before pointing to his office.

    The crowd that had gathered to watch the scene had long since dispersed into their respective classes. Chester wasn't sure who had gotten a teacher. He hadn't been able to see from the ground. Furthermore, it took a lot of motivation for Mr. Moore to do anything about petty school fights. Whoever got him moving must have hit a nerve. Either way, Chester was thankful.

    The principle rubbed his temples and then shot a menacing glare at Chester and Zack, who was cradling his jaw.

    "This is the third time this week. You two need to settle your differences and quickly or I will have no choice, but to expel the both of you," the principle sighed a tired sigh.

    "But he started it. He's been doing this for almost four years and you've done nothing to eradicate the problem! Excuse me for wanting a little bit of justice!" Chester shouted.

    "Mr. Du Fala that is out of line! One more like that and I'll make it two detentions. Now get to class!" The principle shooed Chester away.

    Chester grabbed his bag and contemplated slamming the door. For once, he felt like that might be a bad idea. He made his way to class. His shoulder was bruised thanks to being slammed into the locker. It was impossible to catch a break at this school. As he was thinking it occurred to him that it might have been Marcella who had gotten Mr. Moore. It was unlikely, but possible. He strolled into class only to run into yet another commotion.

    "Don't just stare! HELP HER!" Chester picked up Marcella carefully off the ground, "I'll get you to a hospital don't worry..."

    Chester walked out of the school building. He didn't care if it would get him into more trouble. He was doing more than what the people at school were doing. He called 911 like a sensible person and he waited. Surely his brother, would be willing to help. He was a doctor after all. Unfortunately, the two never really spoke and when they did it was awkward. In all it took about twenty five minutes for Chester to get Marcella into the hospital to get looked at. He watched as they took her away and his brother put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

    "Is she going to be okay Alek?" Chester asked him.

    "I certainly hope so Chester..." Alek said softly before leading Chester to the waiting room where he sat for who knows how long. He wondered if Marcella's family was even going to show up.
  6. In all honesty, Marcella had no idea that by the time she had gotten to class, Chester had gotten in trouble.. Again. All because of the stupid school bully.. If she had, well; saying she wouldn't be happy would be an understatement. If there was anything she hated.. It was bullies. And ignorance. And, well, people getting in trouble when they shouldn't.

    Which meant that the fact she was oblivious to this happening was more than likely a good thing.

    However.. When she heard the commotion going on around her, she wasn't exactly cheery. Why can't they all just shut up? I dunno. Guess they just haven't noticed we need our beauty sleep. Ha! We're hilarious! You said that, like, five minutes ago. If she hadn't been happy at the level of noise going on around her, she was extremely aggravated when she received a series of pokes and nudges from 'curious' classmates. "Hey- Hey, Marcie! Rise and shine; you owe me some lunch money, remember?" Oh, great... Travis. Travis West? The asshole? Yup. Let's ignore him.. He's sexy, but to hell if he's not a total bastard. Suddenly, she found herself being picked up; something that only further irratated her.

    "Hey... What are you doing?" she demanded, squirming slightly while Chester tried to carry her. Though, when she managed to open her eyes and noticed it was Chester, the thrashing lost a bit of intensity. Up til she simply just gave up, falling back out of consciousness Ugh.. Why are we outside? I don't like sunlight. Jeez. Didn't realize we're a vampire. We are!? Cool!!!

    ...You're an idiot. That was obviously sarcasm. Technically, I think we just called ourselves an idiot. Be quiet. By the time that Marcella was no longer paying the voices in her head any mind, she found herself in.. Well, actually, she wasn't quite sure where she was. This only resulted in more frustration. It's too bright in here, too. Yeah it is. Wait... Is this a mental hospital? Jeez, about time we came here! It's not a mental hospital, idiot.. Than what is it, hmm? Taking a moment to fully observe her surroundings, the girl groaned inwardly. Somewhere we don't have the money to be.

    So... Does that mean it's time to rob someone? Or kill someone to take their money and stuff? Or.. OR we could pickpocket someone! You're all annoying. Frowning, she started attempting to get up, paying the exclamations of the doctors no heed. "Chill out, jeez! I'm fine, okay?"
    #6 Midnight Maiden, Nov 29, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 1, 2014
  7. -Since we're in a rough spot, I'll just timeskip so we can get this moving again-

    Sat boredly in a dark alley somewhere on the streets of New York, Marcella had a bottle of wine in hand, and took a swig from it nonchalantly. Sure, she wasn't legally supposed to have it, but hey; what did she ever do anymore that was legal? Touche. See? We TOLD you this couldn't go wrong! This caused a frown to form on the young woman's features.

    "'Couldn't go wrong'? Are you f%#^n' with me?" she scoffed to no one in particular. "I mean.. We're out on the streets without food, or a house, or anywhere I can go! I mean..." There was a pause as she smashed her wine bottle against the wall before turning and stabbing a man who had been trying to sneak up on her with it, resulting in a scream tearing from his lips.x. "Don't touch my money, you filthy little piece of s#^$," she snapped simply, pulling the bottle free and watching the man scamper off with bemusement. Then, she returned to what she had been saying before, after snatching a newspaper off of one of her numerous piles of money. Features set in a frown, she pointed at the headline.

    Breaking news; Seventeen-year-old Marcella Sweet gone missing

    "See? We're on the front page of the damn newspaper, for Heaven's sake! We can't go anywhere, and it's all your fault!" Woah, man.. Chill out. We forgot about our gazillion scars. You really aren't helping, y'know. "Will you all please just shut up?" she groaned in exasperation. Muttering unhappily, she stood up and stretched, rolling her neck. Huffing, she reached for her belt, opening various pouches and stuffing her money into them. Wasn't like she had much, aside from that.

    Well... Except her weapons.

    So, does this mean we finally getta use those things? I hope so! Yeah, yeah.. Just shut up 'til we get there. We know we can't do that. Just- Hey! Listen to us when we're talking to you! This gained nothing from the girl, and she merely kept walking. She wore all black clothes; a pair of black sweat pants, some soft grey sneakers, a black hoodie(with the hood pulled to conceal her face), and.. Well, her belt and pouches weren't black. But that didn't matter; her destination wasn't far off, and she was taking a little-known route.

    There were a few familiar houses along the way.. There was the apartment she had first lived in when she moved here, and a small elementary that strongly resembled the one she had long since burned down with the help of her friend Quinton in her hometown. The one she recognized best was likely the one she recognized to be Chester's. Or, rather, where he had used to live. Briefly, she wondered if he still lived there, and even paused to consider stopping there.

    What're ya doin'? We can't stop. You know him; he'll wanna take us in and return us. That's all those damn lawful folk do. Yeah.. I guess you guys are right. He DID try to help us, though.. Yeah, yeah, yeah.. Just go. For all we know, he don't even live there anymore. Fine, fine! Sighing, she shook the thoughts away and kept going.

    From there, it only took her a matter of minutes to reach her destination; an old, abandoned motel. Sure, the place was falling apart and rotting, but she hardly cared. She slipped through one of the barricaded broken windows and rolled to her feet inside, brushing herself off. New B.O.O? It would certainly seem so. Not like we've got anywhere else we can go. Always did tell ya this place would come in handy! A small breath of relief passed Marcella's lips, and she undid her belt, letting it drop to the floor.

    Stepping over it, Marcie slid her tongue over her lips, walking nonchalantly past her messy pile of melee weapons and firearms. Rather, she sashayed over to where a small navy desktop laid, plopping onto the floor by it and pulling it into her lap. Quietly, she opened it and checked her email, before shutting it and sighing. She then flipped out her cell, surprised to see a number of missed calls. Interest piqued, she re-dialed the last caller, holding the phone to her ear.

    "He-hello?" came the shaky answer on the other end of the phone. This earned no amusement from the teen. "Code, please," she replied, deadpanned. There was a brief pause. "..72650," the male finally replied. "..Good. Address? I prefer to consult my contractors in person."

    "Uh.. Uh... Y-yes! Of course! 1705, 13th avenue," he finally replied, to which Marcie snapped her phone shut and stuffed it in her pocket. Sighing, she got up and nonchalantly peeled off her clothes. She did her best to ignore the dozens of newly-acquired scars and occasional welts that now littered her skin, and pulled on her suit. It was something she'd been working on for years, and had only recently finished. After the skin-tight suit was on, she emptied her money from her belt pouches on the floor with the rest of her things and pulled it back on. After this, she sheathed two standard-issue combat pistols and pulled on her mask, settling a katana on her back as well. It's go time, mother#&@(!s! Hey! You stole my line, you little b@&#* ! Oh, shut it.

    With that, she was off again.
    It didn't take long for the mercenary to reach her destination. She wasted no time on knocking on the door. Rather, she decided to take the more 'fun' route.

    ...Right down the chimney.

    "Ho ho h- Ow! Owowowowowowowowow!" Marcie yelped, scrambling to her feet and desperately patting out the flames that had been licking off her suit. There was a man in the room who had scrambled away when Marcie had crash landed, who seemed to be in his twenties. She shot him a harsh glare through her mask, placing her hands on her hips. "The hell were you thinkin'? Who actually uses their fireplaces, anyways!? Imbeciles!" she exclaimed with a comedic tone. However, no response came, and the man only stared with fear.

    "What's your problem, anyways? Are ya mute? Cat got your tongue?" There was a brief pause, before she continued. "Anywho! Who am I supposed to kill?" she queried, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Finally, he responded. "I- I need you to kill a man named Jeremiah Nelson. I, er.. I 'borrowed' somethin' from him an' he wants it back, but I can't exactly-"

    "Yeah, yeah.. Got it. I don't needa hear your damn sob story," she cut him off with a wave of her hand. Briefly, she looked away and muttered; "Can you believe this guy? What a loser!" she said to no one in particular. This left the man confused and looking hurt, but she didn't seem to care. Ask him how much! Yeah! We don't do jobs like this for dirt. We need money so we can actually get a place instead'a sleepin' in a run-down motel. Y'know, for once, I agree. "So, pal.. How much're ya gonna pay?" she inquired casually, arms crossed just beneath her chest.

    The man chuckled nervously, twiddling his fingers and staring at the floor. "Err, well.. I.. I don't exactly have much money.." This earned a good few minutes of silence, before Marcella spoke again. "Look; you don't pay, I don't kill." Ooh, ooh! Go dark! Doitdoitdoitdoitdoit!! "..Actually... You don't pay, and I'll kill you. No, no... Actually, I'll kill your family, and your friends, wound you internally and le-"

    "Stop!! Stop!!! I'll pay you, dammit!" he exclaimed in a cry, pathetically. "Good. I thought you'd see it my way.." In all honesty, Marcie wouldn't have laid a finger on him or his family. She was too kind for that. When she killed..? It was for self defense, money, or to avenge. That wouldn't happen here.

    "Now.. Where can I find thi- S@*#!!!" Duck, you idiot! Marcie was cut off when a man swung in through the window, shattering the glass and sending the shards that appeared as crystals flying everywhere. Luckily, Marcie had listened to the voice and narrowly avoided some shards. Jeez... Well, thanks. No problem. Haha, kidding; you owe me. You should listen to us more often. The young male wasted no time in rolling to his feet and starting to shoot. Gritting her teeth, Marcie shoved her contractor to the floor, grabbing her pistols and starting to open fire at the intruder. The male evidently hadn't expected this, and yelped as he fell to the floor, a bullet lodged in his calf. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?" she chided, skipping over to the male. He growled in annoyance, attempting to push himself to his feet.

    Though, this was quickly stopped by Marcella firmly placing her foot on his back, keeping him down. Curiously, she looked him over. "Why're you wearing a mask, pal? Trying to hide your face 'cause it isn't as sexy as mine?" Amen to that. The only response she earned was a grunt. Bemused, she pulled off the male's mask, and blinked in surprise. "Thomas..?" she muttered, eyes quickly turning from surprise to anger. Sneering, Marcella kicked his gun away and stomped on his bullet-free leg, earning a cry of pain. "Be glad I let you live, you filthy little..-" What's this b@&#*%$ doin' here, anyways? It's a diversion, you idiots! Oh, shit!

    It took taking a bullet piercing her side for Marcie to fully realize that her past sexual assaulter was a mere distraction, and that the real threat had yet to come. She snarled in pain, wincing as she ripped the bullet free and tossed it aside. She took her foot off of Thomas and aimed her guns at the older man, likely in his thirties, who had emerged from the doorway(that apparently had a broken lock). "Oh, my... Is a little girl going to stop me?" the man mocked with amusement.

    This earned a snarl from Marcie. "Actually...," she huffed, glancing the man over. Fit, old, nimble... In one swift movement, Marcie had aimed, fired, and nimbly dropped her guns before lunging forwards and grabbing her katana, holding it against his throat. "..She is," she murmured, before sweeping the blade. Add 'dead' to that list. Decapitation always has been my favorite method.. Carelessly, Marcella sheathed her katana, grabbed her guns and sheathed those, too, before turning to face her contractor. "...Pay up, pal. 'N I don't accept checks," she stated, arms behind her head.

    As the man scrambled about to gather money from the house, grunts of effort caught the mercenary's attention. Mask hiding her poker face, she approached the wounded young man on the floor, stepping over him casually before pulling him up by the hair. "So, my friend.. Listen up, and listen closely; I'm gonna let ya live.." A small breath of relief left the boy. Haha, he's relieved! "..But it ain't 'cause I like you. In fact, it's because I hate you. So here's the deal; you're gonna live with scars from those little bullet holes, some potential broken bones, and maybe a little visit from me later," she deadpanned, suddenly releasing her grip on him, causing him to fall with a yelp.

    "Now...-" ..Do I smell bacon? No, you idiot.. We needa get out. We were played! Dammit.. She gritted her teeth as she noticed the flames now tearing through the apartment wildly at a rapid pace. That takes a REAL coward.. I mean, I understand fleeing, but setting the whole apartment building on fire..? Damn! Don't you realize? He wants us caught. He knows we'll be comin' after him for not payin', so he phoned the cops and bailed. Probably told him we assaulted him for extra insurance.. Hell, mighta even said we're keeping the praver over here hostage. He wants us locked up so we can't get him! For the love of God..
    #7 Midnight Maiden, Dec 29, 2014
    Last edited: Jan 28, 2015
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