HearseGirl89
Art is in the eye of the beholder.
On the evening of Sunday the 10th day on the 11th month within the year 2024; a meeting was set up at 6:30 P.M. by an unknown individual; as shown upon the caller ID.
Though the two had not met, one described of knowledge that of which the seeker sought out for a gang of certain crazed individuals, hell bent for election when it came to offing pigs. Who better than a discarded commander? Or so at least that was the cover story to insert himself in.
It all started with his favored, fumbling Nephew with cries abroad of somebody attempting to take his life. Like flame to gasoline, Eli shot off like a rocket, from New Jersey to New York. Nothing else mattered, except staying within range of a Nephew he taught to be a sharpshooter and to make sure he did not sway towards that rotten Thorne business again. Yet as history repeats itself; seemed as though the idea flew out the window like a farting church.
A year hiatus after a proclaim of evidential murder turned false, a grippy sock vacation later and he’s back at it; only with more consequential revelations from the denounced Nephew. Only then did a simple, whining phone call and a press release later; Jay Walker re-enter his past life. To take up a past-tense sentimental mob handle as “Murph/Murphy” at an enormous gander on an investment upon protecting one’s priorities: Family.
Which seemed to be a larger bite than he could chew on. Did he believe so originally? Nope. He choked on it!
“Oh and by the way, Mur…”
“It’s Murphy. You fucking Millennial.”
The unknown caller shrugged off the statement, “I know you were the one that I texted about that… bulldozer. Heh. See you tonight, Wap tourist.”
In a flurry of flashing anger that seethes into the face, despite such; the forty nine year old sauntered stoically to his Nephew’s two door.
Why drive this one, when he had his own truck available? It was simplified towards a matter of whom would target and that daring subject would be subtracted from society; backwoods style with an intertwining knowledge of how forensics would work with such evidence.
As the hum of the 460 ignited, warming up the cockpit of one fired up Gen X’er, he took solace into texting with a blocked number.
(So what’s your plan? You just can’t come up here all Willy nilly like that. You aren’t as much of a hot shot as you think you are. I think you should just go back to Jersey and let it be. We got it handled up here.)
-(So fucking what? After the incident with Silas, I thought maybe you might understand. You know that fucking pain as well as I do. I’m not afraid of death. I call it my resolve. I fucked up in the past and if I go down for what’s right, then maybe I can die happy, knowing I did more good in my life. Only difference between you and me is I can’t exactly go visit my wife and kids, even though they’re just a stones throw away… and you fucking know well, why. My brother’s dead and so is Silas. Which is why I need this. Because I was almost there once. Who else is going to watch that fucked up kid? Certainly not you. You just invited a fifteen year old kid on your blood party, because you fucking thought… wrong. Remember the Red Baron, Lily pad? That was fucked up. You invited a hothead like a Thorne in and that just set up a whole slew of problems. If you can’t fix it, then I will. Whatever FUCKING MEANS NESSESSARRY!)
(Look, we’re all young, dumb and have our own problems going on. I think we need to talk in person. I should get off here soon, Jay. Just don’t do anything drastic. I don’t want to be picking your dead ass up with the coroner.)
The feeling of anger slipped, as if a pound of molten rock slipped beneath the frozen arctic waves. Perhaps a nice cup of scalding Joe and some hot cakes were on the menu for later in the evening. Possibly colliding with the number one Keith County sheriff turned bounty hunter to Detective may not be such a bad collaboration after all. Maybe, just in thought; might turn up a better arrangement that he originally had on his plate.
From dawn until dusk, came for the time of arrival. Whereupon the meeting of unbeknownst rivals drew the drapes open for a show of another.
Sudden conflict to hot lead flying, tires bragging about the traction of the road, onto skrting pavement, the show grew near to closure. Some rear end clapping to a pit. It all ramped up as quickly as the summary, just about in the same amount of attention to detail.
Honestly, it was like the old days of crashing cars, shooting people for fun and not a cop in sight.
Right onto the concluding pit on a muddy granular road did the aggressor exit the stuck gray sedan with Glock in hand, firing upon the ebony land yacht.
The driver of the other vehicle had simultaneously made a haste exit; triangulating to the front driver quarter panel, before sinking his head further below the horizon of the two door and scurrying to the rear. Up came the defender’s body, taking the shot to the aggressor’s skull; right between the eyes, through the yellow and black dyed leather mask wrapped in bobwire.
Shortly thereafter, Jay found his brilliant plan to stick the dead weight elsewhere as a warning for those that attempted to take the repeating course. However, upon the corpse discarding, he saw it fit to steal whatever weapons that remained within the sealed trunk.
Thunder ricocheted across the hilly country Billy land forcing him to cover; yet not without reaching into the trunk for a scoped rifle. Reining in with astute, Mister Walker readied up with the sniper’s cover nearby a propane tank. Licking his lips with clasping delight; beautiful explosion of which the shooter had zero chance for an expeditious escape; yet his was at must. Knowing full well that more may be lying in wait. To the corpse filled trunk with room left to give with the projectile shooting tool and rabbiting into the cabin of the two door; Jay drove off into the evening.
The ass of the Continental slinged into the night.
The hot shoes of the Lincoln slowly squeaked with ease as it came to rest in front of a barn, lights off.
In the darkness and silence, Jay reeled his brightly deafening phone.
(Where are you?)
(WHERE ARE YOU?!)
~One missed call~
(JAY ANSWER ME!)
-(Grand senora Desert… area? I should be there)
His digits slipped onto send as his face perked to the side blinding lights of a bulldozer coming out of the trees. Fingers fumbled- too late.
The two door screamed under pressure, shoved to its top. An unbuckled Jay dismantled from the seat, holding himself fetal upon the headliner, tossed about until the land yacht temporarily came to rest on its side. Jay took his opportune to climb out, his pistol being the only other line of defense; sent the clip of lead into the unknown of blaring lights in his eyes. Somehow- managed to strike the driver, killing them. At no surprise, another yellow masked idiot… at this point, they were just an infestation of rats.
Onto larger matters; the sedan. Cautiously picked the vehicle by the bucket of the dozer, flipped upright with high hopes of continued travel, found at the damnation of a flooded engine. A furious Jay Walker kicked at the Land Yacht. Oh well, short held; the male subject took a hike.
Third times the charm they say. A leather white masked suspect love tapped a Walker with his tiny willy truck, hiked up on chunky black donuts.
The mowed down Jay painstakingly stood with remembrance of an emptied clip, having no other way to defend himself, nor by the barrel of a sawed off shotgun held at his head by the suspect. Perhaps it was better to allow such an event to occur for what would be in store, available upon a non-consensual basis.
THANK THE FUCKING STARSHIP… Jay beheld the sight of an awaiting State Trooper and the idiot’s decision to not have the illegal blue lights on when passing the officer. A false hope that soon fell on a lone Crown Victoria.
Perhaps he could give to a clue and potentially save this officer’s life.
Whereupon the initial pullover; Jay finally spoke, “Yo, angle your tires, so when you reverse, it’ll crush the radiator on the cruiser.”
With a concealed smirk behind the mask, a charming voice broke from the suspect, “Was planning on it. Wouldn’t think that a Jay walking asshole like you would know. But cool. We could use you. I’ll kill you later, maybe.” He coyly chortled.
Plan to action; short process of progress, defensive shots fired. As the gargantuan truck roared from the highway, onto the patrol cruiser and to a winding granular climb.
Yet Jay let off a growl to observation of a very stubborn officer. “I’m sure that fucked his radiator, this fucker’s determined…”
“Good thing it’s chilly out. I’m setting this fucker on ice!” The suspect howled, shifting the truck into a different gear, “I was hoping to push his ass off a ledge! Would be less fun if it was hot outside. He’d be cooked and I would go without entertainment for tonight. Bless this cold night!”
“Oh boo-hoo. Cry me a fucking river, asshole.” Jay growled.
The masked marauder cackled, “You’re a cynical motherfucker, aren’t you? I like you.”
Unfortunately, for this haphazardly goose chase, there existed not a ledge but a hillside to a short cliff. Lucky enough for the Trooper, but not so.
As the two vehicles careened and collided, bringing the chase off of the gravel road, onto the grass of a 11% down grade to an 8 foot drop off. Sending the cruiser flying into the ground below at the aid of the truck rear ending the Vic, causing it to flip front over end. The question on the officer’s life was evident, either fatally injured or absolute fatality, either way; he was dead for sure.
As for the suspect; he seemed rather crazy to go for a drop off that was just about as high as the truck itself.
“Be as the limpest of dicks.” The mad lad advised.
Drop down to a skrt, followed by a few unhealthy crunches, the truck limped away from the crime scene. A change of vehicles would be wise in this case.
Yet the white masked fiend did not allow for a peek of what would be next, landing a strong armed right hook to the temple of a kidnapped Jay.
“Drive like a normal bitch boy! I’m doing something tedious back here, asshole!”
Jay awoke to the sound of the same suave voice. With his arms feeling as though the had been removed and Carolina reaper juices upon the lips, Jay felt motivated to cry about his wrists, “I can’t…”
Now he seen the maskless punk for what he was; the suspect pinched Jay’s lips together, “Shut up and let me sew your pie hole. Don’t worry though. I’m going to leave enough room to bottle feed you, cupcake. Can’t have you dying on me because of malnutrition. I’m not that much of a prick. Call it mercy. Or whatever. I don’t care.”
Though the two had not met, one described of knowledge that of which the seeker sought out for a gang of certain crazed individuals, hell bent for election when it came to offing pigs. Who better than a discarded commander? Or so at least that was the cover story to insert himself in.
It all started with his favored, fumbling Nephew with cries abroad of somebody attempting to take his life. Like flame to gasoline, Eli shot off like a rocket, from New Jersey to New York. Nothing else mattered, except staying within range of a Nephew he taught to be a sharpshooter and to make sure he did not sway towards that rotten Thorne business again. Yet as history repeats itself; seemed as though the idea flew out the window like a farting church.
A year hiatus after a proclaim of evidential murder turned false, a grippy sock vacation later and he’s back at it; only with more consequential revelations from the denounced Nephew. Only then did a simple, whining phone call and a press release later; Jay Walker re-enter his past life. To take up a past-tense sentimental mob handle as “Murph/Murphy” at an enormous gander on an investment upon protecting one’s priorities: Family.
Which seemed to be a larger bite than he could chew on. Did he believe so originally? Nope. He choked on it!
“Oh and by the way, Mur…”
“It’s Murphy. You fucking Millennial.”
The unknown caller shrugged off the statement, “I know you were the one that I texted about that… bulldozer. Heh. See you tonight, Wap tourist.”
In a flurry of flashing anger that seethes into the face, despite such; the forty nine year old sauntered stoically to his Nephew’s two door.
Why drive this one, when he had his own truck available? It was simplified towards a matter of whom would target and that daring subject would be subtracted from society; backwoods style with an intertwining knowledge of how forensics would work with such evidence.
As the hum of the 460 ignited, warming up the cockpit of one fired up Gen X’er, he took solace into texting with a blocked number.
(So what’s your plan? You just can’t come up here all Willy nilly like that. You aren’t as much of a hot shot as you think you are. I think you should just go back to Jersey and let it be. We got it handled up here.)
-(So fucking what? After the incident with Silas, I thought maybe you might understand. You know that fucking pain as well as I do. I’m not afraid of death. I call it my resolve. I fucked up in the past and if I go down for what’s right, then maybe I can die happy, knowing I did more good in my life. Only difference between you and me is I can’t exactly go visit my wife and kids, even though they’re just a stones throw away… and you fucking know well, why. My brother’s dead and so is Silas. Which is why I need this. Because I was almost there once. Who else is going to watch that fucked up kid? Certainly not you. You just invited a fifteen year old kid on your blood party, because you fucking thought… wrong. Remember the Red Baron, Lily pad? That was fucked up. You invited a hothead like a Thorne in and that just set up a whole slew of problems. If you can’t fix it, then I will. Whatever FUCKING MEANS NESSESSARRY!)
(Look, we’re all young, dumb and have our own problems going on. I think we need to talk in person. I should get off here soon, Jay. Just don’t do anything drastic. I don’t want to be picking your dead ass up with the coroner.)
The feeling of anger slipped, as if a pound of molten rock slipped beneath the frozen arctic waves. Perhaps a nice cup of scalding Joe and some hot cakes were on the menu for later in the evening. Possibly colliding with the number one Keith County sheriff turned bounty hunter to Detective may not be such a bad collaboration after all. Maybe, just in thought; might turn up a better arrangement that he originally had on his plate.
From dawn until dusk, came for the time of arrival. Whereupon the meeting of unbeknownst rivals drew the drapes open for a show of another.
Sudden conflict to hot lead flying, tires bragging about the traction of the road, onto skrting pavement, the show grew near to closure. Some rear end clapping to a pit. It all ramped up as quickly as the summary, just about in the same amount of attention to detail.
Honestly, it was like the old days of crashing cars, shooting people for fun and not a cop in sight.
Right onto the concluding pit on a muddy granular road did the aggressor exit the stuck gray sedan with Glock in hand, firing upon the ebony land yacht.
The driver of the other vehicle had simultaneously made a haste exit; triangulating to the front driver quarter panel, before sinking his head further below the horizon of the two door and scurrying to the rear. Up came the defender’s body, taking the shot to the aggressor’s skull; right between the eyes, through the yellow and black dyed leather mask wrapped in bobwire.
Shortly thereafter, Jay found his brilliant plan to stick the dead weight elsewhere as a warning for those that attempted to take the repeating course. However, upon the corpse discarding, he saw it fit to steal whatever weapons that remained within the sealed trunk.
Thunder ricocheted across the hilly country Billy land forcing him to cover; yet not without reaching into the trunk for a scoped rifle. Reining in with astute, Mister Walker readied up with the sniper’s cover nearby a propane tank. Licking his lips with clasping delight; beautiful explosion of which the shooter had zero chance for an expeditious escape; yet his was at must. Knowing full well that more may be lying in wait. To the corpse filled trunk with room left to give with the projectile shooting tool and rabbiting into the cabin of the two door; Jay drove off into the evening.
The ass of the Continental slinged into the night.
The hot shoes of the Lincoln slowly squeaked with ease as it came to rest in front of a barn, lights off.
In the darkness and silence, Jay reeled his brightly deafening phone.
(Where are you?)
(WHERE ARE YOU?!)
~One missed call~
(JAY ANSWER ME!)
-(Grand senora Desert… area? I should be there)
His digits slipped onto send as his face perked to the side blinding lights of a bulldozer coming out of the trees. Fingers fumbled- too late.
The two door screamed under pressure, shoved to its top. An unbuckled Jay dismantled from the seat, holding himself fetal upon the headliner, tossed about until the land yacht temporarily came to rest on its side. Jay took his opportune to climb out, his pistol being the only other line of defense; sent the clip of lead into the unknown of blaring lights in his eyes. Somehow- managed to strike the driver, killing them. At no surprise, another yellow masked idiot… at this point, they were just an infestation of rats.
Onto larger matters; the sedan. Cautiously picked the vehicle by the bucket of the dozer, flipped upright with high hopes of continued travel, found at the damnation of a flooded engine. A furious Jay Walker kicked at the Land Yacht. Oh well, short held; the male subject took a hike.
Third times the charm they say. A leather white masked suspect love tapped a Walker with his tiny willy truck, hiked up on chunky black donuts.
The mowed down Jay painstakingly stood with remembrance of an emptied clip, having no other way to defend himself, nor by the barrel of a sawed off shotgun held at his head by the suspect. Perhaps it was better to allow such an event to occur for what would be in store, available upon a non-consensual basis.
THANK THE FUCKING STARSHIP… Jay beheld the sight of an awaiting State Trooper and the idiot’s decision to not have the illegal blue lights on when passing the officer. A false hope that soon fell on a lone Crown Victoria.
Perhaps he could give to a clue and potentially save this officer’s life.
Whereupon the initial pullover; Jay finally spoke, “Yo, angle your tires, so when you reverse, it’ll crush the radiator on the cruiser.”
With a concealed smirk behind the mask, a charming voice broke from the suspect, “Was planning on it. Wouldn’t think that a Jay walking asshole like you would know. But cool. We could use you. I’ll kill you later, maybe.” He coyly chortled.
Plan to action; short process of progress, defensive shots fired. As the gargantuan truck roared from the highway, onto the patrol cruiser and to a winding granular climb.
Yet Jay let off a growl to observation of a very stubborn officer. “I’m sure that fucked his radiator, this fucker’s determined…”
“Good thing it’s chilly out. I’m setting this fucker on ice!” The suspect howled, shifting the truck into a different gear, “I was hoping to push his ass off a ledge! Would be less fun if it was hot outside. He’d be cooked and I would go without entertainment for tonight. Bless this cold night!”
“Oh boo-hoo. Cry me a fucking river, asshole.” Jay growled.
The masked marauder cackled, “You’re a cynical motherfucker, aren’t you? I like you.”
Unfortunately, for this haphazardly goose chase, there existed not a ledge but a hillside to a short cliff. Lucky enough for the Trooper, but not so.
As the two vehicles careened and collided, bringing the chase off of the gravel road, onto the grass of a 11% down grade to an 8 foot drop off. Sending the cruiser flying into the ground below at the aid of the truck rear ending the Vic, causing it to flip front over end. The question on the officer’s life was evident, either fatally injured or absolute fatality, either way; he was dead for sure.
As for the suspect; he seemed rather crazy to go for a drop off that was just about as high as the truck itself.
“Be as the limpest of dicks.” The mad lad advised.
Drop down to a skrt, followed by a few unhealthy crunches, the truck limped away from the crime scene. A change of vehicles would be wise in this case.
Yet the white masked fiend did not allow for a peek of what would be next, landing a strong armed right hook to the temple of a kidnapped Jay.
“Drive like a normal bitch boy! I’m doing something tedious back here, asshole!”
Jay awoke to the sound of the same suave voice. With his arms feeling as though the had been removed and Carolina reaper juices upon the lips, Jay felt motivated to cry about his wrists, “I can’t…”
Now he seen the maskless punk for what he was; the suspect pinched Jay’s lips together, “Shut up and let me sew your pie hole. Don’t worry though. I’m going to leave enough room to bottle feed you, cupcake. Can’t have you dying on me because of malnutrition. I’m not that much of a prick. Call it mercy. Or whatever. I don’t care.”
