Post by The Collective on Sept 13, 2017 22:12:39 GMT
Inventory. A special time of the month when businesses catch up on their profits and losses. One might think that a crime syndicate would be exempt, but not when a crime syndicate is ran like a business. Such is the case for the 7th Street Gang. Full weapon checks, right down to the ammo used. Every brick of heroin, cocaine, and marijuana double counted by separate individuals. All forfeitures, seizures, and assorted stolen goods kept track of meticulously. Along with keeping track of every product under his roof, Dante also kept track of the people moving his product.
Every foot soldier lined up on the tile. Eyes turn straight ahead to the blinding sunlight pouring through the penthouse windows as Dante rolls by on his adjusted golden segway. A minor scowl on his face as he looks up and down to each one of his soldiers. Not only is he sizing them up, he’s doing an ocular assessment, checking to see if any of his loot is stashed on them. After all the boys have been counting all day. Why wouldn’t one of the dumber ones try to get a little handful for himself?
It’s a nice, steady roll, that is until Dante arrives 18 guys deep. There's a suspicious gang member just two guys ahead. A big, portly white boy, hair from head to toe. The signs are all there that Dante usually looks for. Sweating profusely in a 64 degree air conditioned room. Heartbeat noticeably pounding past his XXXL black t-shirt. And what looked to be a slight bulge protruding from his belt buckle. Dante had the instincts to spot this guy from five guys away. He couldn’t wait to get to him.
Once he arrives to Billy, he rolls by him. Dante’s eyes scanning Billy up close and personal, getting further confirmation on what he already knew. Just as it seems as if he’s going to move onto the next guy, Dante stops. Slowly he presses the reverse button, bringing himself back to Billy with that piercing gaze of his. Billy takes only a split second to meet those serial killer eyes before flipping them back to the sunlight pouring in over the Manhattan skyline. A split second is all Dante needs.
“Hey soldier! You don’t look familiar, what’s your name?”
Petrified to the core, Billy works up the courage to look down at Dante and speak quickly. “My name is Billy. I’ve been working here two weeks. Deuce got me the job.” His eyes shoot back up after saying that, afraid of lingering too long on the homicidal madman.
Upon hearing what Billy has to say, Dante’s eyes light up and a happily sadistic smile forms on his face. ‘Oh shit’ eyes pop across the experienced members of the crew, knowing what happens when they see that smile. Dante looks out to his foot soldiers with that cartoon smile and raises his hands excitedly. “Everyone, welcome Billy to 7th Street Gang! Deuce got him the job!”
“WELCOME BILLY” They say disjointedly, making the poor soul in the limelight sweat even more. Dante’s excited eyes focus back in on Billy, who looks like he’s doing all he can to keep from his bowels exploding.
“So tell me Billy...are you happy to see me?”
Confused on how to answer a question like that, Billy searches for words for a good five seconds before uttering, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“It’s not sir, it’s Dante. No need to be too formal around here. You can look me in the eye too Billy, I’m not going to bite. I swear.”
Those sweat drenched, scared eyes flutter down to Dante, the green glare from staring into the sun perfectly forming a portrait over his menacing mug. As soon as he dares to look into his eyes, Dante goes back to his original question. “Now tell me Billy….are you happy to see me?”
The confusion didn’t get any better. But never one to say no to a crime boss, Billy went with the answer most would. “Ye-yes….I’m happy to see you.”
A bellowing, psychotic laugh comes from the little man, carrying on for a good while before he looks out to the rest of the gang. “YOU HEAR THAT!?! I KNEW HE WAS HAPPY TO SEE ME!!”
At this point the gang knows what’s going to happen, so they uncomfortably laugh along with their heinous leader.
“YOU KNOW HOW I KNOW HE IS HAPPY TO SEE ME!?”
Not a single gang member answered. Not like they would in this scenario.
“HE’S TUCKING HIS HARD-ON UNDERNEATH HIS BELT BUCKLE!!”
With a quick whip from his side holster, Dante retrieves a sterling silver blade handle. That insane grin goes right back to the usual deathly scowl, bringing on whimpering from Billy. It’s no use. A press of the button on the bottom shoots out a sharp retractable blade, which happens to go directly into the black denim covered groin of the poor dummy. A blood curdling scream comes from Billy as Dante sinks in the nine inch blade halfway, then pulls out quickly. A stream of white powder filters down to the marble tile below, along a small stream of blood. Before Billy can even reach for his blood and coke oozing junk, switchblades meet his upper torso. One to his immediate left, one to his immediate right. Alternating lightning fast blades cutting past the fat and going right into his internal organs. Reducing him to his knees, and finally the ground within four seconds. Even once he’s on the ground, they keep stabbing. Just to make sure the job is done.
“Enough.”
They stop on command and back away from the bleeding out ex-gang member. With the thief taken down permanently, Dante has only one other pressing issue at hand.
“Where is Deuce?! I want to cut his head off for bringing a thief into my gang!!”
The gang members look to each other, checking to see if Deuce is anywhere in the lineup. No one speaks up after a few seconds, and this enrages Dante. “WHERE THE FUCK IS DEUCE!?”
One of his senior members speaks up, having confidence that Dante won’t punish him for doing so. “He’s not here boss.”
“WHY ISN’T HE HERE!? NO ONE SKIPS INVENTORY!!”
“I haven’t seen him in a week. Last time I saw him around he was spending a lot of time with one of those Cuban hookers.”
“Interesting.” Immediately Dante’s head fills with accusations. Could the Cuban Underground be trusted? Did one of their whores kill his men, or possibly lead him to his death? While Dante wants to investigate this matter even further, he realizes that it’s something he should keep an eye on instead of acting in the moment. Dante turns back to the soon to be corpse on the ground, then looks to the two men who unmercifully shanked him. “Take care of him and save what coke you can.”
They both nod in stereo before dragging the body away from the lineup. With only three men left to inspect, Dante continues to roll on, making sure there is no else dumb enough to steal from him.
Here we go again Faith and Leo. Another battle for supremacy, because apparently Seth Black wants justice around here. Which is funny if you ever look back on the history of Seth Black. Guy is one of the biggest dirtbags to ever enter professional wrestling, yet he’s gonna sit back and act like he’s a good samaritan now? Fuck that. People don’t change Seth, and you ain’t foolin’ nobody. Just because you had a moment with God from your slip and slide moment doesn’t excuse the leniency you give to your associates. All you’ve showed in your time in office is that if someone is friends with Seth Black, they get what they want around here. If you’re a brain dead Finnish loser, you get a title match off a fluke win. If you’re a crazy Japanese tranny, you get to do whatever you want in Phoenix and only get a slap on the wrist. Meanwhile The Collective can’t administer a little backstage justice without you banning one of our members from entering the arena.
Are we really that much of a threat to your roster Seth? Frankie is no worse than Masaru, yet you’re gonna ban him from the arena? Fucking bullshit Seth. I don’t give a fuck if you’re the GM, you deserve to be called out on your shit. I’m not about to get a Duos title shot anytime soon anyways, so I don’t give a fuck what punishment you got set aside for me. The way I look at it Seth, this match is not a punishment. If anything it’s an opportunity to show PW that we’re still one of the top tag teams around here. Faith can pick whatever bum from the indies she wants as her partner, but it will never matter in the long run as the Collective collectively owns Faith’s soul. We’ve proven that in every match we’ve had with the woman. If anything we’re actually giving her a chance to retain some of her sanity, being that crazy bitch loses her shit anytime she sees Frankie. He’s even more pissed now that you opened a vagina on his head. It took me and Geno three hours to talk this crazy bastard down from breaking into the arena and coming after you. But I think we got through to him. I think. Maybe.
So for once Faith, it’s just gonna be Tony and Geno versus you and the squirrel man. I know you’re fucking done with facing the Collective, but that’s just too damn bad. Seth Black wants this match, so me and Geno intend on going out there and preventing you and Leo from ever being challengers to the Duos championships. We know that’s your endgame, something you just couldn’t get done with Chris Andrew. By the way, how is the little bitch boy? Haven’t heard a peep from him since Frankie piped his knee good. Anyways, just like you need this match to move into contention, we need this match to logjam the division. It’s gonna get to the point that Hell Is Waiting has no choice but to give us another shot at the gold. If that means dealing with your strikes and Leo’s flippy flip shit, we’ll do it. The road we chose Faith is a hard one. We accept that. I just wish you’d accept that you can never truly beat the Collective, no matter what partner you have.
Which brings me to Leo. I’ll give you credit Leo. You may be a goofy looking fuckhead, but you’re quick, you’re agile, and you can take a beating. I mean I totally thought Anastasia was gonna rip right through you in four minutes but you held on a lot longer than I thought. Bravo. I guess this is a situation where I judged a book by it’s cover. While it’s a bat shit crazy book to read, it’s a decent one nonetheless. But as tough of a squirrel man as you are Leo, you don’t match up to The Collective. We’ve been shot, stabbed, thrown off three story buildings, thrown out of 70 miles per hour moving cars, tasered, and that’s just a taste. To be healthy as we are, fully recovered for once in our careers means everything to us. It means we can actually give a shit about studying for our opponents for once without risking injury. I’ve been working on escaping armbars, something you seem to love doing. Geno’s been working on powering out of submissions. Come the 19th Leo we’re gonna be ready for every little trick a rodent like you can dish out. Don’t pussy out on me, come blazing with both barrels.
Preventing success will be a win for us. You want Hell is Waiting? Get past the bane of your careers.
OOC Word Count: 1969
Every foot soldier lined up on the tile. Eyes turn straight ahead to the blinding sunlight pouring through the penthouse windows as Dante rolls by on his adjusted golden segway. A minor scowl on his face as he looks up and down to each one of his soldiers. Not only is he sizing them up, he’s doing an ocular assessment, checking to see if any of his loot is stashed on them. After all the boys have been counting all day. Why wouldn’t one of the dumber ones try to get a little handful for himself?
It’s a nice, steady roll, that is until Dante arrives 18 guys deep. There's a suspicious gang member just two guys ahead. A big, portly white boy, hair from head to toe. The signs are all there that Dante usually looks for. Sweating profusely in a 64 degree air conditioned room. Heartbeat noticeably pounding past his XXXL black t-shirt. And what looked to be a slight bulge protruding from his belt buckle. Dante had the instincts to spot this guy from five guys away. He couldn’t wait to get to him.
Once he arrives to Billy, he rolls by him. Dante’s eyes scanning Billy up close and personal, getting further confirmation on what he already knew. Just as it seems as if he’s going to move onto the next guy, Dante stops. Slowly he presses the reverse button, bringing himself back to Billy with that piercing gaze of his. Billy takes only a split second to meet those serial killer eyes before flipping them back to the sunlight pouring in over the Manhattan skyline. A split second is all Dante needs.
“Hey soldier! You don’t look familiar, what’s your name?”
Petrified to the core, Billy works up the courage to look down at Dante and speak quickly. “My name is Billy. I’ve been working here two weeks. Deuce got me the job.” His eyes shoot back up after saying that, afraid of lingering too long on the homicidal madman.
Upon hearing what Billy has to say, Dante’s eyes light up and a happily sadistic smile forms on his face. ‘Oh shit’ eyes pop across the experienced members of the crew, knowing what happens when they see that smile. Dante looks out to his foot soldiers with that cartoon smile and raises his hands excitedly. “Everyone, welcome Billy to 7th Street Gang! Deuce got him the job!”
“WELCOME BILLY” They say disjointedly, making the poor soul in the limelight sweat even more. Dante’s excited eyes focus back in on Billy, who looks like he’s doing all he can to keep from his bowels exploding.
“So tell me Billy...are you happy to see me?”
Confused on how to answer a question like that, Billy searches for words for a good five seconds before uttering, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“It’s not sir, it’s Dante. No need to be too formal around here. You can look me in the eye too Billy, I’m not going to bite. I swear.”
Those sweat drenched, scared eyes flutter down to Dante, the green glare from staring into the sun perfectly forming a portrait over his menacing mug. As soon as he dares to look into his eyes, Dante goes back to his original question. “Now tell me Billy….are you happy to see me?”
The confusion didn’t get any better. But never one to say no to a crime boss, Billy went with the answer most would. “Ye-yes….I’m happy to see you.”
A bellowing, psychotic laugh comes from the little man, carrying on for a good while before he looks out to the rest of the gang. “YOU HEAR THAT!?! I KNEW HE WAS HAPPY TO SEE ME!!”
At this point the gang knows what’s going to happen, so they uncomfortably laugh along with their heinous leader.
“YOU KNOW HOW I KNOW HE IS HAPPY TO SEE ME!?”
Not a single gang member answered. Not like they would in this scenario.
“HE’S TUCKING HIS HARD-ON UNDERNEATH HIS BELT BUCKLE!!”
With a quick whip from his side holster, Dante retrieves a sterling silver blade handle. That insane grin goes right back to the usual deathly scowl, bringing on whimpering from Billy. It’s no use. A press of the button on the bottom shoots out a sharp retractable blade, which happens to go directly into the black denim covered groin of the poor dummy. A blood curdling scream comes from Billy as Dante sinks in the nine inch blade halfway, then pulls out quickly. A stream of white powder filters down to the marble tile below, along a small stream of blood. Before Billy can even reach for his blood and coke oozing junk, switchblades meet his upper torso. One to his immediate left, one to his immediate right. Alternating lightning fast blades cutting past the fat and going right into his internal organs. Reducing him to his knees, and finally the ground within four seconds. Even once he’s on the ground, they keep stabbing. Just to make sure the job is done.
“Enough.”
They stop on command and back away from the bleeding out ex-gang member. With the thief taken down permanently, Dante has only one other pressing issue at hand.
“Where is Deuce?! I want to cut his head off for bringing a thief into my gang!!”
The gang members look to each other, checking to see if Deuce is anywhere in the lineup. No one speaks up after a few seconds, and this enrages Dante. “WHERE THE FUCK IS DEUCE!?”
One of his senior members speaks up, having confidence that Dante won’t punish him for doing so. “He’s not here boss.”
“WHY ISN’T HE HERE!? NO ONE SKIPS INVENTORY!!”
“I haven’t seen him in a week. Last time I saw him around he was spending a lot of time with one of those Cuban hookers.”
“Interesting.” Immediately Dante’s head fills with accusations. Could the Cuban Underground be trusted? Did one of their whores kill his men, or possibly lead him to his death? While Dante wants to investigate this matter even further, he realizes that it’s something he should keep an eye on instead of acting in the moment. Dante turns back to the soon to be corpse on the ground, then looks to the two men who unmercifully shanked him. “Take care of him and save what coke you can.”
They both nod in stereo before dragging the body away from the lineup. With only three men left to inspect, Dante continues to roll on, making sure there is no else dumb enough to steal from him.
Here we go again Faith and Leo. Another battle for supremacy, because apparently Seth Black wants justice around here. Which is funny if you ever look back on the history of Seth Black. Guy is one of the biggest dirtbags to ever enter professional wrestling, yet he’s gonna sit back and act like he’s a good samaritan now? Fuck that. People don’t change Seth, and you ain’t foolin’ nobody. Just because you had a moment with God from your slip and slide moment doesn’t excuse the leniency you give to your associates. All you’ve showed in your time in office is that if someone is friends with Seth Black, they get what they want around here. If you’re a brain dead Finnish loser, you get a title match off a fluke win. If you’re a crazy Japanese tranny, you get to do whatever you want in Phoenix and only get a slap on the wrist. Meanwhile The Collective can’t administer a little backstage justice without you banning one of our members from entering the arena.
Are we really that much of a threat to your roster Seth? Frankie is no worse than Masaru, yet you’re gonna ban him from the arena? Fucking bullshit Seth. I don’t give a fuck if you’re the GM, you deserve to be called out on your shit. I’m not about to get a Duos title shot anytime soon anyways, so I don’t give a fuck what punishment you got set aside for me. The way I look at it Seth, this match is not a punishment. If anything it’s an opportunity to show PW that we’re still one of the top tag teams around here. Faith can pick whatever bum from the indies she wants as her partner, but it will never matter in the long run as the Collective collectively owns Faith’s soul. We’ve proven that in every match we’ve had with the woman. If anything we’re actually giving her a chance to retain some of her sanity, being that crazy bitch loses her shit anytime she sees Frankie. He’s even more pissed now that you opened a vagina on his head. It took me and Geno three hours to talk this crazy bastard down from breaking into the arena and coming after you. But I think we got through to him. I think. Maybe.
So for once Faith, it’s just gonna be Tony and Geno versus you and the squirrel man. I know you’re fucking done with facing the Collective, but that’s just too damn bad. Seth Black wants this match, so me and Geno intend on going out there and preventing you and Leo from ever being challengers to the Duos championships. We know that’s your endgame, something you just couldn’t get done with Chris Andrew. By the way, how is the little bitch boy? Haven’t heard a peep from him since Frankie piped his knee good. Anyways, just like you need this match to move into contention, we need this match to logjam the division. It’s gonna get to the point that Hell Is Waiting has no choice but to give us another shot at the gold. If that means dealing with your strikes and Leo’s flippy flip shit, we’ll do it. The road we chose Faith is a hard one. We accept that. I just wish you’d accept that you can never truly beat the Collective, no matter what partner you have.
Which brings me to Leo. I’ll give you credit Leo. You may be a goofy looking fuckhead, but you’re quick, you’re agile, and you can take a beating. I mean I totally thought Anastasia was gonna rip right through you in four minutes but you held on a lot longer than I thought. Bravo. I guess this is a situation where I judged a book by it’s cover. While it’s a bat shit crazy book to read, it’s a decent one nonetheless. But as tough of a squirrel man as you are Leo, you don’t match up to The Collective. We’ve been shot, stabbed, thrown off three story buildings, thrown out of 70 miles per hour moving cars, tasered, and that’s just a taste. To be healthy as we are, fully recovered for once in our careers means everything to us. It means we can actually give a shit about studying for our opponents for once without risking injury. I’ve been working on escaping armbars, something you seem to love doing. Geno’s been working on powering out of submissions. Come the 19th Leo we’re gonna be ready for every little trick a rodent like you can dish out. Don’t pussy out on me, come blazing with both barrels.
Preventing success will be a win for us. You want Hell is Waiting? Get past the bane of your careers.
OOC Word Count: 1969