I hate to be the one to say the words, "I Told You So!", not only that, but I basically put Jame's career on ICU. He tried, but he tried little, and his timing was terribly off the wall. I took advantage and smacked the ball left field, and took the home run.
I'm better than Barry, and I don't even need Steroids ...
This week, will be yet another fucking show-stopping event. As easy as slicing pie and eating it. This upcoming match will be just that. Juan Ramirez, and his leader, Michael Carrington, and .... wait .... what the fuck?
MICHAEL JAY ST. CLAIRE!!!!???
This is a joke, right? I thought the bitch was with Team Turner, or could this be some shitty 'set-up'. Our rivalries from the past are countless, but never did I think, we'd be fucking team mates. I don't like sharks, and I don't like racists. I eat them bitches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. However though, I must play the role. The only things I trust is God, Shorty, Shyne, and Michael Carrington.
Don't dare fuck with me St. Claire ...
If you do, your team mates will have to carry you out ...
_____________________
"I tried to warn you Baxter ... you're not very good at following directions. Now look at you!"
Baxter covered himself and his face, hunched scaredly in the corner, as I held the gun, still pointed at him, as the striking bullet pierced the wall of the hotel, right beside the closet door. Juan held it steady as Baxter looked scared, flinching as if he was fixed on cocaine.
"Are you fucking crazy, man? You almost shot me ...!" Baxter shouted.
"I should've killed your bitch-ass ... but I decided the other kiddo's would be looking for you" I said with a smirk, as I sat down on the edge of the bed he once was on, looking dead at him, with the gun laid down, but holding slight grip pressure on it, incase in need of quick reaction.
"Look, I'll hook you up Juan ... a nice cash value of coke just for you, just ... just let me go, man!" He begged.
I looked at him crazily, as I gave an awkward look towards him, before just shaking my head at his shameless lines to get out.
"I got my own shit son ... I don't need your cheap-ass shit that you have. So the answer is no ... but once homeboy's come flying through ... they'll find you, and they will end you for once and for all."
"I got a reputation, Juan ... I can't let em' see me sweat!" He said, as he steadily trembled from the shockening firing from the pistol earlier.
"Fuck your reputation ... you and your bullshit, almost got me killed, and you spit this shit at me about your "reputation"?"
He shooked his head, biting his thumb nail.
"C'mon man, anything you want ... I'll get it for you. Just let me get by man ... I'll drop all the shit and let you off ... just don't shoot me." Again he begged.
The door flew wide open on such a big impact, as both of our eyes widened to seeing the crew that almost killed me were now standing in the room, led by it's front-man. Baxter put on a fake smile as he chose to raise his hand in the air, a girlish wave.
"Well what do we have here? You two mending hearts all of a sudden?" The guy said in his english-accented voice.
"Nah, I just about to pump led into this shitty ass kid ..." Baxter said, trembling even more.
"Right, so why is he holding the gun and not you?"
"He took it away from my grasp at the last second before you guys popped in ..." Baxter said again, as I looked at him, biting my lip, ready to smack the color off his face.
"I hate liars, Baxter ... I don't like being lied to, kid." The guy said, before bending down, still looking at Baxter and I, before sticking his pinky in the small hump of coke on the glass table, tasting it, as he stood back up.
"You pulled one on me, Baxter! I was looking forward to that promised load. You took my money, and I don't even have my shit. I should shoot you both where you stand ... well "sit"!"
Baxter shook his head hesitantly, trying to escape what he probably felt was going to not be a glamorous ending. I just sat there, looking at both, in back and forth motion.
"Actually, I should just shoot you, Baxter! You screwed me over for the final time!"
He then locked his eyes onto me, with the smirk he continued to keep on his face.
"Kid, ... I don't normall do this to twats' like you, but my buisness here is with Baxter. I'm giving you a "Death-Free Pass" ... now get out of here before I blow your fucking brains out!"
I quickly hopped up, stepping across the bed, before looking back at Baxter, as he had become instantly terrified, as he seemingly knew what was going to happen. I continued my way out the door, as the lackey closed the door behind me.
Instead of walking off, I stood there by the door, listening in ...
"You should've quit when you had the chance, sonny' boy ..."
POP ...POP!
Two silenced pops were heard, as laughing was then heard. I hid over in the other corner as they came out of the room with a great smile of joy as they left in stylish fashion, as if nothing had ever happened.
As they walked off out of sight, I crept my way to the room, as my eyes arched at the sight of seeing that slick bastard now put into quiet mode as the story was not going to go any further. I walked off casually, exiting the second floor, as the scene fades to black.
__________________________
Let me say this, St. Claire. You're lucky to be right here. If it wasn't for Shyne being off and Shorty being occupied with other deals, you wouldn't even be standing in the shoes of greatness. Syndicate Inc. You try and do something funny, I will take the responsibility of burning you where you stand, kid.
Liana, Cherry and Gold. Seriously, is this suppose to be "our" fucking Challenge. I've taken down Liana, I've beat the brakes off of Jay Gold. The only person that hasn't been touched yet is Greg Cherry. His claim to fame of getting silenced is long overdue, and come Breakdown, I will surely be the one to do just that.
I've gone through every challenge, except that one match. Speed got lucky, as I said before. This Trios tournament is all in hand like AllState. Syndicate Inc, will take care of this tournament. No one will stop us. Liana can't do shit about it, Jay can't do shit about it, nor will Greg do shit about this. As I said, it's already set in stone.
I don't like you, St. Claire. I'm sure you've known that for a while, since in our old promotion where you hated me gaining all the spotlight. The same here, but instead of aligning yourself with a dominant team and stable, you chose to join with ... let me get this correctly, Cid Turner? Team Turner? This is the time for you to stand on your own, without your crew and act as if you want to become "Jaws" again. These children is this match are nothing but breakfast in my opinion, and is only the "key" to getting in past the qualifying round.
Syndicate Inc., along with Mr. St. Claire will surely pass through this round like a sharp lightning bolt in the sky, with striking fashion. As I previously stated, We ... will ... dominate. Nuff' fucking said ...
Fade.To.Black
