Post by Kyzer on Nov 14, 2014 5:06:26 GMT -5
“Separate the dwarf from his dwarf cock” – The Hun
Sorrow
I feel the emptiness. It can’t be filled, I have stopped trying.
Is this all that I am anymore?
A hole of depression and sadness…
It is how I feel. I try to move on, but I am unable to do so. I don’t want to stay like this. I don’t want to feel this way…weak…
I want to be strong…
I need to be strong…again…
Will I ever though?
He tells me I need to find something to get my mind off of it, dive into work the boss says. Easy for him, he didn’t lose his reason for waking up.
Three times…
Delilah is gone…Dead…
I can still smell her cooking…the smell of breakfast waking me up…
He may be right. Maybe I should put my focus into work. Maybe it will help clear away the ghosts in my head. I have been haunted by Sarangerel since I let her die. I have been haunted by my people since I was declared dead to them. Now Delilah’s ghost haunts me…
All these ghosts…
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The Binding- November 07, 2014
He looks at the man twice his size, Tugarin Zmey sits in the seat with no fear. DMK can only guess that flying doesn’t bother the man without a soul. DMK, on the other hand, was not ready for this. Nothing could put the fear of God into DMK except two things and one of them was flying. Something about being in a steel container 40,000 feet in the air didn’t sit well with the midget. Not even the three Xanax that he took are helping. His hands are shaking as he rubs them together to prevent anyone from noticing. There was only two other passengers anyways, Tugarin Zmey and Jewnose. Jewnose, DMK’s captain of the MDS of the KKK Army, wasn’t paying any attention to anything anyways. He was sitting behind DMK with headphones on trying to sing along to a Three 6 Mafia song. DMK was alone in his fears.
Tugarin: Are you alright?
The words almost made DMK jump out of his skin. Zmey rarely initiated conversation and had up to this point shown no concern for anyone or anything, not that DMK was complaining. No one wants a soldier who has too big of a heart, that is why nothing with a vagina should be on the battlefield. DMK doesn’t have to look over to feel the giant’s eyes piercing through him.
DMK: I am alright. Just not a fan of flying in deathtraps miles above the ground.
Zmey tilts his head slightly as if he is studying DMK. He doesn’t say anything though eventually he turns to the window. Several moments of awkward silence are only interrupted by Jewnose misquoting his rap music. Finally the plane starts moving down the runway. All through take off, DMK has a death grip on his armrests. He silently thanks himself that he splurged on the private plane because this might make him sh~t himself. After another few moments of more awkwardness, the plane levels out at its cruising altitude.
DMK: F~ck, this will be a long flight…
Jewnose: (screaming with headphones on) Hey Boss! Where we going?
DMK: Amsterdam.
Zmey immediately turns his head.
Jewnose: (screaming even louder) Where?
DMK turns in his seat as much as a midget can.
DMK: Take the f~cking headphones off!
Jewnose hears that and complies.
DMK: We are going to Amsterdam.
Jewnose looks as happy as a crack baby opening presents and finding crack rocks.
DMK: This is business. You aren’t here to get your little dick any action, or do drugs.
Jewnose: Then why am I here?
Legitimate question for a crackhead midget with a sex addiction problem.
DMK: You are my assistant assisting me with sh~t! Just shut the f~ck up and do what you are told to do. So stop asking questions.
Flying was making this little man grouchy.
DMK: (looking at Zmey) I am guessing you have a clue as to who I am going to see?
Tugarin: The Hun?
DMK’s name for Tugarin Zmey’s former employer.
DMK: Yes. There is a problem with some of the business I have with him and I need to resolve it face to face. Also there is another reason.
Zmey just stares. DMK continues.
DMK: I don’t have to explain to you how important loyalty is in everything that I do. I only expect certain degrees of loyalty out of different people. I know how the world works. But with some people I need to make sure they know that their loyalty is especially important to me. And those people, I want to build loyalty with also. There is something else for us in Amsterdam besides The Hun. Something I hope helps build trust between the two of us and loyalty between the two of us. I am not blind to the situation. I know that you are my rock and it will be infinitely more difficult to survive in the WFWF without you. I need you to know that I respect you and how much I respect you. There have only been a handful of people I have said that to.
Zmey processes what DMK is saying but DMK can’t really tell. He only hopes that Zmey understands where he is coming from.
Zmey: I understand the need for loyalty. I understand that loyalty can offer a degree of protection in your world that money and fear can’t. But I am merely a weapon. I don’t have an opinion that can be swayed one way or another. As long as I am in your possession I do what you ask. It isn’t more complicated than that. My life isn’t more complicated than that. Loyalty is needed when you run into the complex. You are wasting time on a needless task but I go where you I am told.
Zmey turns back to the window leaving DMK alone in his fear. DMK just shakes his head.
DMK: He plays the role of the golem perfectly…
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Violence
All I can see is red as I feel the breaking of bone in my hands. He won’t tell me what happened so he will pay for that with his health. I continue to rain blow after blow on him until The Vor calls for his thugs to pull me off of the poor wretch.
It takes four of them to pull me off. The Vor watches with The Brigadier next to him. I struggle against the wall of men. I want to rip this man apart with my bare hands. I want to kill him.
I will kill him.
“Zurgadai! Wolfhound!”
My concentration on the worm in front of me is broken by the voice of The Vor. He is grinning ear to ear as he has seen his Wolfhound in action. It was The Vor who brought this man in front of me.
“Wolfhound, I have brought you a man who might have information about your…”
He didn’t even finish his sentence before I leapt on this guy like a piece of meat.
I have sat in my constrained rage for weeks as I tried to piece together what happened to her. Everyone I set my eyes on looked like a culprit. I just wanted to destroy and rip everyone apart. But I was warned that due to my career and who I associate with, that this needed to be handled with more tact and guile.
That isn’t what I do. I am not the brains of the operation. I am a giant killing machine. I am the man who breaks the legs and doesn’t ask questions on why he is disposing of the bodies. I am not the person who goes and investigates crime and solves mysteries.
The Vor is a man who using cunning and foresight in everything he does…well almost everything…
He looks at The Brigadier who grabs the broken man by his arm and proceeds to drag him out of my eye line. The Vor looks back me and finds the rage and anger still etched into my features. I am consumed in a bloodlust. He steps in front of without fear. That might be a mistake for him but he has confidence in the numbers that would be on his side.
“We will get the information out of him. Don’t worry. We will find out who is responsible.”
And someone will die…
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The little man fights for what he believes in.
Even if that is money, drugs and ****.
He brings his balls to the table every day.
No one ever questions if he has ovaries.
There is a scary man in your dreams.
He isn’t a giant coming down a beanstalk.
And he isn’t a kid that is into LARPing a little too much.
He is about the size of a boxer.
With the bite of a Great White.
The Devil is real and hasn’t become a member of the tribe.
Jack The Ripper is a psychotic Midget.
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The Offering – November 08, 2014
The Hun: You and I have known each other for around 10 years. In all that time, I have never liked you. If Michael didn’t vouch for you, we wouldn’t have gotten into business together. But he did and we did get into business together. And for nearly a decade the business has been good. You have proved yourself more than capable despite your size. Until now…
The Hun sat across the table from DMK. The two sat at a table in Ian Clarke’s restaurant. Amsterdam had become The Hun’s second home after leaving Northern Ireland. This was his world and DMK could quickly find himself on the wrong end of the seedy underbelly of the second most notorious city in the world. Ian could snap his fingers and the midget would disappear never to return to the Pacific Northwest that he loved.
The Hun: What the f~ck went wrong?!
The Hun screams suddenly as he slings a glass across the room. Prone to irrational outbursts and whimsical demands, Clarke’s thugs remain unflinching. DMK also remains stoic in the face of a man of who may be more of a lunatic than everyone’s favorite dwarf.
DMK: There was a failure in the chain of command.
The words “chain of command” cause Jewnose to perk up from behind his fearless leader. Zmey stands off to the side like a statue, pretty much as always. F~cking bunghole.
DMK: I have asserted who is to blame and it won’t happen again.
The Hun leans back while he chuckles at DMK’s attempt to offer reassurance.
The Hun: You are aware that money doesn’t mean a f~cking thing to me right? Especially when it comes to someone disrespecting me or someone f~cking me over. I will gladly spend a million times the amount to cut the balls off of someone who screwed me out of bus fare. Or to simply entertain myself.
DMK starts to wonder if he will be leaving this encounter intact.
DMK: I have brought the one who is to blame.
The Hun perks up.
The Hun: I am assuming the little midget right behind you?
Jewnose isn’t smart but he is quick enough to pick up on the fact that they are talking about him. He quickly panics but The Hun’s thugs grab him before the tiny crack head could cause a problem.
Jewnose: What the f~ck? I didn’t do anything. I had nothing to do with that.
DMK gets out of his chair and faces his captain. He grabs Jewnose by the back of the neck.
DMK: I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart. You broke my heart!
The Hun rises from his seat at the table.
The Hun: Separate the dwarf from his dwarf cock.
The thugs literally pick up Jewnose and haul him off out of sight and assumingly out of existence for the purpose of this story.
The Hun: (addressing DMK) This still doesn’t make up for the money that I am losing out on.
DMK: I will correct that.
The Hun looks over at Zmey and smiles.
The Hun: Subutai!
Subutai Khagan, the name for Tugarin Zmey that The Hun has.
The Hun: I have been watching.
DMK interrupts here.
DMK: Then you know that I am making him a superstar.
The Hun: (showing contempt for the midget) It seems he is making you the superstar.
The Hun steps up to Zmey.
The Hun: The Good Shepherd sends his regards. He is doing well and asked about you.
Zmey only stares. The Hun smiles at DMK.
The Hun: I will be coming to the states in a few months. I expect everything to be settled by then.
DMK hides his disgust for the Irish prick well.
DMK: And the other thing I asked about?
The Hun loses his smile.
The Hun: And the reason behind that request?
DMK: My cock.
The Hun doesn’t say anything in response to that. He looks at one of his thugs who hands DMK a slip of paper.
DMK: Be sure to bring your security blanket when you come to the States. Seattle has become a warzone lately with shootings everywhere. It would be a shame to read a story about a tourist falling prey to the sadder elements of the finest city in the world.
DMK grins, and then suddenly spits on the ground of the restaurant. No manners this midget has. He turns away from Ian Clarke and leaves the restaurant with Tugarin Zmey in tow. It is funny how crime will bring two people together that absolutely despise each other, just like sexual attraction. Once they are outside, DMK turns to Zmey.
DMK: Now we go get your Delilah.
If Tugarin wasn’t wearing a metal mask over his face, DMK would see a look of pure astonishment. It is a look that Zmey has never expressed.
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Sorrow
The months afterwards became a blur. Nothing really sticks out except for meeting The American. The Vor referred to him as The Good Shepherd. I never learned his name. I only met him once. But it is the only thing I remember in nearly a year’s time span.
The Vor attempted to help me move on from my grief but it was futile. I couldn’t. Nothing helped. So consumed by sadness and anger, I don’t remember the majority of the year. My subconscious has blocked it out…almost all of it…
I walked into The Vor’s club and there he was. Sitting in the booth, surrounded on both sides by women of ill repute, he looked up at instantly piercing through all the pain and rage with those blue eyes. No one has ever had a glance that was so intense.
The Vor introduced him as “The Good Shepherd”. He wasn’t part of my world that much I could tell instantly. But he seemed so at eased around murderers and thieves. If anything, The Vor showed him a level of respect above anyone he has ever met before.
“You must be ‘Wolfhound’. I have heard many good things about you.”
Wolfhound was The Vor’s name for me. It was from some Russian folklore or something. He reaches out to shake my hand. My hand engulfs his but I feel the intensity in his handshake. It catches me off guards as his grin reveals a very laid back individual.
Some small talk takes place between The Vor and The Good Shepherd before something calls for The Vor’s attention away. The moment the Russian walks off, the American looks me in the eyes.
“The snake in the grass whispered me a tale.”
For some reason, my attention is grasped.
“There was this Devil. He had a Dragon under his spell. He bound this Dragon with a tragedy.”
Something explodes.
“He found treasure that the Dragon protected and stole it.”
What?
“This Devil feared the Dragon. So he sought to bind his loyalty through tragedy.”
No.
“The Devil stole the Dragon’s gold, and with it his soul.”
He pushes one of the whores out of the booth and stands. He comes up for right below my chin but the aura he exerts makes me feel like the small one.
“Then the Devil looked at the Dragon, and said…”
My heart stops.
“We will find your treasure together.”
Déjà vu.
“And we will punish those responsible.”
He puts his hand behind my neck pulling me down to him.
“You must burn the Devil before he castrates the Dragon.”
He releases me and laughs. My mind is spinning. I walked into this club with a black cloud of despair around me. Now I am about to walk out with a volcano of violence.
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Josh Dean…Chase Landon…I don’t who it is. I am going to kill whoever I face.
It is what I do. It is what I am built for. It is the only reason I exist.
At least it has been for the last few…I have lost track of how long.
Everything for the last five, six, seven or however many years has been about taking orders and executing them exactly as given. Up until last week, I had not strayed from that.
That was up until DMK mentioned Delilah…
I hadn’t uttered that name since the night with The Good Shepherd. Almost a decade later, I hear the name of a ghost. Someone who has haunted, tortured me and broken me into The Thrall. It is because of this ghost that I have become the soulless weapon. It is because of this haunt that I have become dead on the inside.
Yet, when The Little Master mentioned her name, I felt a spark. I don’t know what exactly but something I haven’t felt before. Something I haven’t felt since I last saw her.
But how? How did he know about her? Why would The Hun help someone he hates bond with the weapon he craves once again?
However, I couldn’t drop the idea once it was put into my head.
Delilah….
Just the sound of the name fills me with something I haven’t felt in a long time.
If he wanted to motivate me, it worked.
I am motivated.
I am motivated to kill.
I am motivated to kill for I love.
I am motivated to kill for who I lost.
I will kill Chase Landon and Josh Dean.
Unfortunately there will be no show at the pay per view. The Little Master has given me reason to slaughter both before the big show.
He lamented over the fact that there would be sad fans but told me it would be in my best interests to express my rage at this show.
I don’t need to overload my payload before The Clash.
So this will just be me expending a few rounds of ammo.
My targets are people that have been described as worthless c~nt muscles. The ovaries of a middle aged romance obsessed with romance novels and the shriveled testicles of a rat containing the AIDS virus…that is what I am up against according to the Master.
I don’t care what they are called. I only see them as victims.
The quicker I execute them, the quicker I get resolution to the thing that disrupts my emotionless existence.
The future, The Clash…It isn’t even sight right now.
I am not seeing beyond the immediate future.
I don’t see beyond ripping the head off of a rat.
I don’t see beyond cutting the sack off of fifty shades of grey.
DMK has gotten my focus on the now.
Don’t think for an instance the monster is going to overlook the immediate.
The Mongolian Death Worm is going to orphan the Dean children and the Landon vermin brood.
I see red…
I see blood…
I see death…
I see fire burning two unfortunate souls….
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Don’t f~ck with the midget…
DMK wants the gold…
He will get the gold…
The midget is the brains behind Satan and The Dragon…
So Ace and Gary are in for a treat…
They are going to get split open like they like…
Fabio is going to hit in the face with more than a bird…
A wife is going to cry while her husband gets emasculated in front of the world…
Everyone is going to remember why they bullied Goth kids in high school…
The world is going to f~cking recognize that Tugarin Zmey and Donnie Monty Kent are here to f~ck up their entire perspective on what is right and wrong…
Good vs. Evil…
Right vs. Wrong…
Cock vs. Vagina…
Two egg sacks are going to get crushed. It won’t even take a Dragon to do it. It will be even more embarrassing to the world when a man smaller than a child will crush the hopes and dreams of two full grown p~ssies.
Castration by fire…
It is a real thing…
P~ssies…
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Violence
I am Subutai Khagan…
Khan of Khans…
Genghis Khan’s greatest general…
I subdued China…
I brought terror, fear and violence to Eastern Europe…
I brought death to the Russians…
When I met The Good Shepherd it was through The Vor. So of course I am going to assume that he is loyal to The Vor. This was where I first realized that Loyalty is a blurred line.
I became enlightened.
I became focused.
I plotted my revenge…
I met Ian Clarke…
He brought to the table things I didn’t possess. The same talents that The Vor possessed but with a more chaotic tone…
But Ian Clarke brought all three before their Judge…
Before me stood The Vor…The Brigadier…and My Blood Brother…
I remember seeing the three…I remember their betrayal still…
I can still feel the blood flowing in my hands as I ripped out the heart of my brother…I remember looking down at Borchu with his blood on my hands, his chest breathing ever so slightly…The Vor and The Brigadier staring with fear in their eyes…
They had witnessed a monster tear apart the person closest to them left in this life. The Vor saw his mortality for the first time in his life…And for the last…
I let The Hun take both off to the blood water of the Black Sea…
I was destroyed enough by the betrayal of my brother…
I died that day…
The Vor attempted to rid me of my “distractions” but instead he killed what was left of me…
He did much worse than he intended…
He released a Three Headed Dragon…
He bathed the World in Fire….
Sorrow
I feel the emptiness. It can’t be filled, I have stopped trying.
Is this all that I am anymore?
A hole of depression and sadness…
It is how I feel. I try to move on, but I am unable to do so. I don’t want to stay like this. I don’t want to feel this way…weak…
I want to be strong…
I need to be strong…again…
Will I ever though?
He tells me I need to find something to get my mind off of it, dive into work the boss says. Easy for him, he didn’t lose his reason for waking up.
Three times…
Delilah is gone…Dead…
I can still smell her cooking…the smell of breakfast waking me up…
He may be right. Maybe I should put my focus into work. Maybe it will help clear away the ghosts in my head. I have been haunted by Sarangerel since I let her die. I have been haunted by my people since I was declared dead to them. Now Delilah’s ghost haunts me…
All these ghosts…
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The Binding- November 07, 2014
He looks at the man twice his size, Tugarin Zmey sits in the seat with no fear. DMK can only guess that flying doesn’t bother the man without a soul. DMK, on the other hand, was not ready for this. Nothing could put the fear of God into DMK except two things and one of them was flying. Something about being in a steel container 40,000 feet in the air didn’t sit well with the midget. Not even the three Xanax that he took are helping. His hands are shaking as he rubs them together to prevent anyone from noticing. There was only two other passengers anyways, Tugarin Zmey and Jewnose. Jewnose, DMK’s captain of the MDS of the KKK Army, wasn’t paying any attention to anything anyways. He was sitting behind DMK with headphones on trying to sing along to a Three 6 Mafia song. DMK was alone in his fears.
Tugarin: Are you alright?
The words almost made DMK jump out of his skin. Zmey rarely initiated conversation and had up to this point shown no concern for anyone or anything, not that DMK was complaining. No one wants a soldier who has too big of a heart, that is why nothing with a vagina should be on the battlefield. DMK doesn’t have to look over to feel the giant’s eyes piercing through him.
DMK: I am alright. Just not a fan of flying in deathtraps miles above the ground.
Zmey tilts his head slightly as if he is studying DMK. He doesn’t say anything though eventually he turns to the window. Several moments of awkward silence are only interrupted by Jewnose misquoting his rap music. Finally the plane starts moving down the runway. All through take off, DMK has a death grip on his armrests. He silently thanks himself that he splurged on the private plane because this might make him sh~t himself. After another few moments of more awkwardness, the plane levels out at its cruising altitude.
DMK: F~ck, this will be a long flight…
Jewnose: (screaming with headphones on) Hey Boss! Where we going?
DMK: Amsterdam.
Zmey immediately turns his head.
Jewnose: (screaming even louder) Where?
DMK turns in his seat as much as a midget can.
DMK: Take the f~cking headphones off!
Jewnose hears that and complies.
DMK: We are going to Amsterdam.
Jewnose looks as happy as a crack baby opening presents and finding crack rocks.
DMK: This is business. You aren’t here to get your little dick any action, or do drugs.
Jewnose: Then why am I here?
Legitimate question for a crackhead midget with a sex addiction problem.
DMK: You are my assistant assisting me with sh~t! Just shut the f~ck up and do what you are told to do. So stop asking questions.
Flying was making this little man grouchy.
DMK: (looking at Zmey) I am guessing you have a clue as to who I am going to see?
Tugarin: The Hun?
DMK’s name for Tugarin Zmey’s former employer.
DMK: Yes. There is a problem with some of the business I have with him and I need to resolve it face to face. Also there is another reason.
Zmey just stares. DMK continues.
DMK: I don’t have to explain to you how important loyalty is in everything that I do. I only expect certain degrees of loyalty out of different people. I know how the world works. But with some people I need to make sure they know that their loyalty is especially important to me. And those people, I want to build loyalty with also. There is something else for us in Amsterdam besides The Hun. Something I hope helps build trust between the two of us and loyalty between the two of us. I am not blind to the situation. I know that you are my rock and it will be infinitely more difficult to survive in the WFWF without you. I need you to know that I respect you and how much I respect you. There have only been a handful of people I have said that to.
Zmey processes what DMK is saying but DMK can’t really tell. He only hopes that Zmey understands where he is coming from.
Zmey: I understand the need for loyalty. I understand that loyalty can offer a degree of protection in your world that money and fear can’t. But I am merely a weapon. I don’t have an opinion that can be swayed one way or another. As long as I am in your possession I do what you ask. It isn’t more complicated than that. My life isn’t more complicated than that. Loyalty is needed when you run into the complex. You are wasting time on a needless task but I go where you I am told.
Zmey turns back to the window leaving DMK alone in his fear. DMK just shakes his head.
DMK: He plays the role of the golem perfectly…
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Violence
All I can see is red as I feel the breaking of bone in my hands. He won’t tell me what happened so he will pay for that with his health. I continue to rain blow after blow on him until The Vor calls for his thugs to pull me off of the poor wretch.
It takes four of them to pull me off. The Vor watches with The Brigadier next to him. I struggle against the wall of men. I want to rip this man apart with my bare hands. I want to kill him.
I will kill him.
“Zurgadai! Wolfhound!”
My concentration on the worm in front of me is broken by the voice of The Vor. He is grinning ear to ear as he has seen his Wolfhound in action. It was The Vor who brought this man in front of me.
“Wolfhound, I have brought you a man who might have information about your…”
He didn’t even finish his sentence before I leapt on this guy like a piece of meat.
I have sat in my constrained rage for weeks as I tried to piece together what happened to her. Everyone I set my eyes on looked like a culprit. I just wanted to destroy and rip everyone apart. But I was warned that due to my career and who I associate with, that this needed to be handled with more tact and guile.
That isn’t what I do. I am not the brains of the operation. I am a giant killing machine. I am the man who breaks the legs and doesn’t ask questions on why he is disposing of the bodies. I am not the person who goes and investigates crime and solves mysteries.
The Vor is a man who using cunning and foresight in everything he does…well almost everything…
He looks at The Brigadier who grabs the broken man by his arm and proceeds to drag him out of my eye line. The Vor looks back me and finds the rage and anger still etched into my features. I am consumed in a bloodlust. He steps in front of without fear. That might be a mistake for him but he has confidence in the numbers that would be on his side.
“We will get the information out of him. Don’t worry. We will find out who is responsible.”
And someone will die…
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The little man fights for what he believes in.
Even if that is money, drugs and ****.
He brings his balls to the table every day.
No one ever questions if he has ovaries.
There is a scary man in your dreams.
He isn’t a giant coming down a beanstalk.
And he isn’t a kid that is into LARPing a little too much.
He is about the size of a boxer.
With the bite of a Great White.
The Devil is real and hasn’t become a member of the tribe.
Jack The Ripper is a psychotic Midget.
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The Offering – November 08, 2014
The Hun: You and I have known each other for around 10 years. In all that time, I have never liked you. If Michael didn’t vouch for you, we wouldn’t have gotten into business together. But he did and we did get into business together. And for nearly a decade the business has been good. You have proved yourself more than capable despite your size. Until now…
The Hun sat across the table from DMK. The two sat at a table in Ian Clarke’s restaurant. Amsterdam had become The Hun’s second home after leaving Northern Ireland. This was his world and DMK could quickly find himself on the wrong end of the seedy underbelly of the second most notorious city in the world. Ian could snap his fingers and the midget would disappear never to return to the Pacific Northwest that he loved.
The Hun: What the f~ck went wrong?!
The Hun screams suddenly as he slings a glass across the room. Prone to irrational outbursts and whimsical demands, Clarke’s thugs remain unflinching. DMK also remains stoic in the face of a man of who may be more of a lunatic than everyone’s favorite dwarf.
DMK: There was a failure in the chain of command.
The words “chain of command” cause Jewnose to perk up from behind his fearless leader. Zmey stands off to the side like a statue, pretty much as always. F~cking bunghole.
DMK: I have asserted who is to blame and it won’t happen again.
The Hun leans back while he chuckles at DMK’s attempt to offer reassurance.
The Hun: You are aware that money doesn’t mean a f~cking thing to me right? Especially when it comes to someone disrespecting me or someone f~cking me over. I will gladly spend a million times the amount to cut the balls off of someone who screwed me out of bus fare. Or to simply entertain myself.
DMK starts to wonder if he will be leaving this encounter intact.
DMK: I have brought the one who is to blame.
The Hun perks up.
The Hun: I am assuming the little midget right behind you?
Jewnose isn’t smart but he is quick enough to pick up on the fact that they are talking about him. He quickly panics but The Hun’s thugs grab him before the tiny crack head could cause a problem.
Jewnose: What the f~ck? I didn’t do anything. I had nothing to do with that.
DMK gets out of his chair and faces his captain. He grabs Jewnose by the back of the neck.
DMK: I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart. You broke my heart!
The Hun rises from his seat at the table.
The Hun: Separate the dwarf from his dwarf cock.
The thugs literally pick up Jewnose and haul him off out of sight and assumingly out of existence for the purpose of this story.
The Hun: (addressing DMK) This still doesn’t make up for the money that I am losing out on.
DMK: I will correct that.
The Hun looks over at Zmey and smiles.
The Hun: Subutai!
Subutai Khagan, the name for Tugarin Zmey that The Hun has.
The Hun: I have been watching.
DMK interrupts here.
DMK: Then you know that I am making him a superstar.
The Hun: (showing contempt for the midget) It seems he is making you the superstar.
The Hun steps up to Zmey.
The Hun: The Good Shepherd sends his regards. He is doing well and asked about you.
Zmey only stares. The Hun smiles at DMK.
The Hun: I will be coming to the states in a few months. I expect everything to be settled by then.
DMK hides his disgust for the Irish prick well.
DMK: And the other thing I asked about?
The Hun loses his smile.
The Hun: And the reason behind that request?
DMK: My cock.
The Hun doesn’t say anything in response to that. He looks at one of his thugs who hands DMK a slip of paper.
DMK: Be sure to bring your security blanket when you come to the States. Seattle has become a warzone lately with shootings everywhere. It would be a shame to read a story about a tourist falling prey to the sadder elements of the finest city in the world.
DMK grins, and then suddenly spits on the ground of the restaurant. No manners this midget has. He turns away from Ian Clarke and leaves the restaurant with Tugarin Zmey in tow. It is funny how crime will bring two people together that absolutely despise each other, just like sexual attraction. Once they are outside, DMK turns to Zmey.
DMK: Now we go get your Delilah.
If Tugarin wasn’t wearing a metal mask over his face, DMK would see a look of pure astonishment. It is a look that Zmey has never expressed.
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Sorrow
The months afterwards became a blur. Nothing really sticks out except for meeting The American. The Vor referred to him as The Good Shepherd. I never learned his name. I only met him once. But it is the only thing I remember in nearly a year’s time span.
The Vor attempted to help me move on from my grief but it was futile. I couldn’t. Nothing helped. So consumed by sadness and anger, I don’t remember the majority of the year. My subconscious has blocked it out…almost all of it…
I walked into The Vor’s club and there he was. Sitting in the booth, surrounded on both sides by women of ill repute, he looked up at instantly piercing through all the pain and rage with those blue eyes. No one has ever had a glance that was so intense.
The Vor introduced him as “The Good Shepherd”. He wasn’t part of my world that much I could tell instantly. But he seemed so at eased around murderers and thieves. If anything, The Vor showed him a level of respect above anyone he has ever met before.
“You must be ‘Wolfhound’. I have heard many good things about you.”
Wolfhound was The Vor’s name for me. It was from some Russian folklore or something. He reaches out to shake my hand. My hand engulfs his but I feel the intensity in his handshake. It catches me off guards as his grin reveals a very laid back individual.
Some small talk takes place between The Vor and The Good Shepherd before something calls for The Vor’s attention away. The moment the Russian walks off, the American looks me in the eyes.
“The snake in the grass whispered me a tale.”
For some reason, my attention is grasped.
“There was this Devil. He had a Dragon under his spell. He bound this Dragon with a tragedy.”
Something explodes.
“He found treasure that the Dragon protected and stole it.”
What?
“This Devil feared the Dragon. So he sought to bind his loyalty through tragedy.”
No.
“The Devil stole the Dragon’s gold, and with it his soul.”
He pushes one of the whores out of the booth and stands. He comes up for right below my chin but the aura he exerts makes me feel like the small one.
“Then the Devil looked at the Dragon, and said…”
My heart stops.
“We will find your treasure together.”
Déjà vu.
“And we will punish those responsible.”
He puts his hand behind my neck pulling me down to him.
“You must burn the Devil before he castrates the Dragon.”
He releases me and laughs. My mind is spinning. I walked into this club with a black cloud of despair around me. Now I am about to walk out with a volcano of violence.
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Josh Dean…Chase Landon…I don’t who it is. I am going to kill whoever I face.
It is what I do. It is what I am built for. It is the only reason I exist.
At least it has been for the last few…I have lost track of how long.
Everything for the last five, six, seven or however many years has been about taking orders and executing them exactly as given. Up until last week, I had not strayed from that.
That was up until DMK mentioned Delilah…
I hadn’t uttered that name since the night with The Good Shepherd. Almost a decade later, I hear the name of a ghost. Someone who has haunted, tortured me and broken me into The Thrall. It is because of this ghost that I have become the soulless weapon. It is because of this haunt that I have become dead on the inside.
Yet, when The Little Master mentioned her name, I felt a spark. I don’t know what exactly but something I haven’t felt before. Something I haven’t felt since I last saw her.
But how? How did he know about her? Why would The Hun help someone he hates bond with the weapon he craves once again?
However, I couldn’t drop the idea once it was put into my head.
Delilah….
Just the sound of the name fills me with something I haven’t felt in a long time.
If he wanted to motivate me, it worked.
I am motivated.
I am motivated to kill.
I am motivated to kill for I love.
I am motivated to kill for who I lost.
I will kill Chase Landon and Josh Dean.
Unfortunately there will be no show at the pay per view. The Little Master has given me reason to slaughter both before the big show.
He lamented over the fact that there would be sad fans but told me it would be in my best interests to express my rage at this show.
I don’t need to overload my payload before The Clash.
So this will just be me expending a few rounds of ammo.
My targets are people that have been described as worthless c~nt muscles. The ovaries of a middle aged romance obsessed with romance novels and the shriveled testicles of a rat containing the AIDS virus…that is what I am up against according to the Master.
I don’t care what they are called. I only see them as victims.
The quicker I execute them, the quicker I get resolution to the thing that disrupts my emotionless existence.
The future, The Clash…It isn’t even sight right now.
I am not seeing beyond the immediate future.
I don’t see beyond ripping the head off of a rat.
I don’t see beyond cutting the sack off of fifty shades of grey.
DMK has gotten my focus on the now.
Don’t think for an instance the monster is going to overlook the immediate.
The Mongolian Death Worm is going to orphan the Dean children and the Landon vermin brood.
I see red…
I see blood…
I see death…
I see fire burning two unfortunate souls….
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Don’t f~ck with the midget…
DMK wants the gold…
He will get the gold…
The midget is the brains behind Satan and The Dragon…
So Ace and Gary are in for a treat…
They are going to get split open like they like…
Fabio is going to hit in the face with more than a bird…
A wife is going to cry while her husband gets emasculated in front of the world…
Everyone is going to remember why they bullied Goth kids in high school…
The world is going to f~cking recognize that Tugarin Zmey and Donnie Monty Kent are here to f~ck up their entire perspective on what is right and wrong…
Good vs. Evil…
Right vs. Wrong…
Cock vs. Vagina…
Two egg sacks are going to get crushed. It won’t even take a Dragon to do it. It will be even more embarrassing to the world when a man smaller than a child will crush the hopes and dreams of two full grown p~ssies.
Castration by fire…
It is a real thing…
P~ssies…
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Violence
I am Subutai Khagan…
Khan of Khans…
Genghis Khan’s greatest general…
I subdued China…
I brought terror, fear and violence to Eastern Europe…
I brought death to the Russians…
When I met The Good Shepherd it was through The Vor. So of course I am going to assume that he is loyal to The Vor. This was where I first realized that Loyalty is a blurred line.
I became enlightened.
I became focused.
I plotted my revenge…
I met Ian Clarke…
He brought to the table things I didn’t possess. The same talents that The Vor possessed but with a more chaotic tone…
But Ian Clarke brought all three before their Judge…
Before me stood The Vor…The Brigadier…and My Blood Brother…
I remember seeing the three…I remember their betrayal still…
I can still feel the blood flowing in my hands as I ripped out the heart of my brother…I remember looking down at Borchu with his blood on my hands, his chest breathing ever so slightly…The Vor and The Brigadier staring with fear in their eyes…
They had witnessed a monster tear apart the person closest to them left in this life. The Vor saw his mortality for the first time in his life…And for the last…
I let The Hun take both off to the blood water of the Black Sea…
I was destroyed enough by the betrayal of my brother…
I died that day…
The Vor attempted to rid me of my “distractions” but instead he killed what was left of me…
He did much worse than he intended…
He released a Three Headed Dragon…
He bathed the World in Fire….
I dont know good luck 
ing tag team partner and I don't even know, but I'm glad someone else is thinking along the same lines.
