“Chef? Chef, get your fucking ass down here now!” Trevor called out angrily, slamming a fist against the door.
“C-coming right away, Trevor!” Chef called from up the stairs, quickly making his way down and jumping the last couple of steps to open the door for his boss. “What do you need?”
“Oh, so that’s how you greet me now?” Trevor asked, shoving Chef inside the meth lab. “Not a ‘Hello Trevor, how are you this fine afternoon?’ Or even a ‘What’s up boss? How was your day?’ No, you’re just jumping to the fucking chase!” Trevor turned to Chef and shoved a finger in the meth cook’s face, pushing his glasses uncomfortably against his eyes. “Who the hell do you think I am?”
“I-I didn’t mean anything by it, Trevor,” Chef said, backing away from Trevor. The mere sight of the balding man with a stained white t-shirt was enough to send him into a panic. And when he was pissed, Chef could barely control his bowel movements. “I just wanted to know, um… what you needed. Since you ain’t been back in a while from Los Santos, I was just wondering what you needed here.”
“Well, try and guess what I need from a meth lab?” Trevor replied, flicking Chef’s glasses off his face and stomping his way up the steps to the second story of the house. Chef hastily put his glasses back on and followed, though at a safe enough distance away from the fuming psychopath.
“We still dealing then?” Chef asked.
“You bet your white-trash ass we are!” Trevor replied, circling around the meth lab built into the middle of the second story room. “Had some bad business dealings in Los Santos, so I’m going to lay low a bit till the heat blows over. But hey, doesn’t mean I still can’t make some cash flow on the side.”
Chef went over to the meth lab set up, hastily moving over glass tubes and chemicals to clear a spot on the table. “W-well, production has run its usual course since you’ve been gone.”
“Nice, I like that. Trevor Philips Industries, self-reliant and willing to supply the dope to the customers no matter what.” Rubbing his hands eagerly with a twisted smile on his face, Trevor asked, “So, how much product do I have for selling?”
Chef hefted up a large gym bag on the table, grunting at the weight. “About fifty pounds worth, Trevor.”
“Hot damn, you’ve cooked up an all you can eat buffet for me!” Trevor laughed, clapping his hands together in satisfaction. “With this we can get every redneck from here to Texas high off their asses and empty of their wallets!”
“Um, Trevor, you think we should really be selling this stuff if you need to lay low?” Chef asked, rubbing the back of his shaved head nervously. “What if the cops get up in our ass?”
Trevor stared up from the gym bag, the joyful expression on his face quickly replaced with an irritated scowl. “Did you just question my judgement?”
“N-no, of course now, Trevor! You know I’d never do that!”
“Cause it sure sounded like that to me.” Trevor made his way around the table to stare eye to eye with Chef. Chef in turn backpedaled until he hit the wall. “It sure sounded like to me that you don’t take my decisions seriously. It sure sounded like to me that you don’t trust my choices. It sure sounds like to me that you’re ready to stab me in the fucking back at any goddamn second!”
“Oh sweet Jesus, don’t kill me!” Chef begged, falling to the floor with his arms protecting his head. “I swear to Christ, Trevor, I didn’t mean anything by it! Oh for the love of God, I don’t wanna die!”
Trevor stood with his hands on his sides staring down at the sad, pathetic meth cook. Shaking his head disappointingly, he nudging Chef’s shoulder with a supportive hand and said, “Hey, get the fuck off the floor and stop crying like a baby. I ain’t gonna kill ya.”
“S-seriously?” Chef asked, getting back to his feet.
Trevor answered by grabbing the front of Chef’s head and slamming it forward against the wall, the back of Chef’s head impacting painfully with the wall as it made a dent in the drywall.
“I will beat your fucking head open if you question me again!” Trevor spit in his face, Chef falling down to the floor and crying out at the pain in his noggin. “Now get off the floor again and help me move the goods. I have some customers arriving and I don’t want to keep them waiting. Trevor Philips Industries is nothing if ever punctual on its meeting times!”
“Who are we meeting?” Chef asked, rubbing the back of his head sorely.
“Just some associates of mine.”
“What type of associates?”
Trevor shrugged, lugging the gym bag over one shoulder as he went downstairs. “Oh, the usual. Mountain folk, really rural and isolated, a satanic cult that runs a cannibal operation on the side, and from what I’ve heard organizers of some pretty sweet homosexual orgies.”
“Wait, are these guys those whacko Altruist cult folk that eat hitchhikers?”
“Hey now, Chef, no need to disrespect someone’s religion,” Trevor warned, checking through the window on the front of the building to see when they would arrive. “Now, they may seem strange to you because their ways are unconventional and strange and oftentimes violent, but they have feelings just like anyone else.” Turning around, Trevor added on, “Also, they’re a bit of a nudist cult, so if you’re into seeing balls hanging to the ground go right ahead and stare.”
“Wh-what?”
“Oh goody, they’re here!” Trevor said, noticing the large group of mountain men entering the area.
“Trevor, you sure this is a good idea?” Chef asked, glancing through the window at the over a dozen half dressed men walking towards the meth lab. Many had long overcoats on with hoods, hiding their faces. But not their groins, with shrunken old man parts proudly on show.
“What did I say about questioning my judgement?” Trevor snarled, getting right up in Chef’s face.
“N-no, I didn’t mean anything by that,” Chef said quickly, gulping deeply. “I was just thinking that it’s awfully suspicious that a bunch of them would arrive here just for meth. Know what I’m saying?”
“Well, of course they want meth. Meth and cannibal mountain cults go hand in hand. Like incest and second cousins. Or drinking and driving over deer. It’s all the circle of white trash life that gets the inbreds happy from the drugs and us happy from the money lining our pockets,” Trevor said, grasping the door handle in preparation to go out to greet the cultists. “Now explain to me why that isn’t a good idea?”
“The fact they have carbines and MGs on them?” Chef pointed out, the cultists drawing out a wide selection of firearms as they drew closer to the building.
“Well, isn’t that an unfriendly business practice?” Trevor muttered, moving away from the door just as a bullet hole appeared where his head was supposed to be. “Now see, this type of discourteous behavior really pisses me off. I offer them drugs at reasonable prices, plus I deliver idiot tourists and hitchhikers to them and this is what I get? Weapons drawn on my property? Just plain old crass is what it is.”
“Trevor, what are we gonna do?” Chef asked, noticing the cultists were nearing the meth lab closer and closer.
Trevor shoved an assault rifle in Chef’s hands, while he himself pulled out an advanced scope sniper. “Okay, here’s the plan. You confront the band of insane, deadly cannibal cultists out front while I go upstairs and pick them out one by one.”
“But, uh… wouldn’t that put me more in danger while you’ll be safer?”
Trevor rested a hand on Chef’s shoulder. “Chef, I know we’ve been through a lot together. You cook me my meth, I occasionally slap you around a bit to keep order, and then we both kill some inbred moron that’s trying to kill me this week. It’s a simple process that I really believe brings us together as friends.” Squeezing in support, Trevor loaded his sniper and made his way up the stairs. “And as my friend, you bear the important responsibility of taking on a mad band of cultists with just a gun while I sit up top, sipping tea and taking potshots at a few of them. Sound good?”
“Uh…”
“If the answer is anything but yes, I’ll send you out there dripping in barbeque sauce just to make it easier for them.”
“Y-yeah, for sure, Trevor!” Chef said, fumbling the gun in his hands until he gripped it in a proper shooting manner.
“Excellent!” Trevor replied, already back on the second floor. “Call me if they break through the front door! Yelling really loudly if you die will also work!”
Trevor sauntered up to one of the second story windows and shattered it with the butt of his rifle. Clearing away some of the remaining glass, he aimed down at the approaching cultists and took aim.
“See, this is what happens when you fuck with your supplier!” Trevor said, blowing off the head of the first cultists caught in his sights. This immediately alerted the others of their friend’s gruesome end. Though the second one wasn’t alerted soon enough to avoid half of his brain being splattered on the ground by another burst of a bullet from Trevor’s sniper. “You don’t bite the hand that feeds you! You don’t bite the cock of your pimp! And you sure as hell fucking don’t mess with a drug dealer that has a fucking high powered scope sniper!”
“Trevor, they’re everywhere!” Chef called from down below, spraying bullets at the seemingly endless waves of cultists charging at the meth lab, guns ablazing.
“Thanks for that insightful tidbit, Chef, but my eyesight is still good enough to know when we’re fucked!” Trevor replied, managing to get two cultists in one. The neck of the first one was torn open while the other’s eyeballs popped out of their sockets when his skull was smashed to bits. Here is one of the rare times when being the short guy hiding next to your buddy didn’t save you from an untimely death.
“Then what are we gonna do?” Bullets peppered the bottom floor as Chef hid behind the counter at the back of the meth lab. Glancing over to spray bullets at random at the gathered cultists, Chef yelled, “We don’t have much time left ‘til they overrun the building!”
“Well, Captain Obvious, why don’t you keep on shooting while I find a way to save our asses?” Trevor said, throwing himself against the wall and avoiding the window as bullets started being directed at his location.
Scanning the room, Trevor thought over his options. He could keep on shooting them like usual, but there was the off chance Chef would be killed downstairs if he didn’t go to help. And finding a competent enough meth cook that doesn’t blow up his lab is a tough find in these parts. He could always just go down there and join Chef in blowing up some inbred mountain folks heads off, which seemed like the much more fun option truthfully. But then there was the third option which seemed like the best in terms of destructive casualties.
“Hey, Chef, where’d you put the grenade at?” Trevor asked, going back to the window to kill the bastards that shot at him. “Gonna need it to deliver a welcoming present to our guests!”
“I-I think I have it somewhere down here, Trevor!”
Trevor growled, ducking just as the top of the window exploded from a bullet burst, splinters flying everywhere. “Then get it the fuck up here already!”
The window next to him suddenly shattered, a small round object tumbling across the floor. Spotting the grenade, Trevor shouted, “Shit, Chef, a simple hand off would’ve been fine! You’re paying for that window!”
“B-but Trevor, I never threw you the grenade!” Chef said.
It took the total of two seconds for this information to register in Trevor’s head. It would’ve been sooner, but a morning of cheap beer and even cheaper meth had dulled his wits severely. It took a further five seconds for him to quickly abandon his position by the window to run over to the window across the room to jump out of it. He at least had the sense to not jump out the window where the mad cultists were waiting for him on the ground.
“Fuck!” Trevor yelled, crashing through the window just as the grenade detonated.
In itself the explosion of the grenade within the confined space of the room would have been devastating. But an explosion right next to a meth lab is another problem altogether. The highly flammable materials of a common trailerpark meth lab are a ticking time bomb just waiting to be set off. And boy, did it ever.
The explosion rocked the building right to its foundations, the roof imploding in on itself from the fiery inferno sucking in all the oxygen. Most of the second floor was decimated, fiery remains of wood and drywall flying through the air for yards on end. A hole was actually created so that combustible materials fell to the first floor, just as cultists were entering the building. They were quickly burned alive or crushed under the weight.
As for the cultists on the outside, they had not thought through the process of throwing a grenade in a meth lab. The following hellish hailing of bits of the second floor raining down on they cooked them over nice and easy.
Glancing over the counter, Chef looked at the massive hole in the ceiling, the dead cultists being roasted underneath the wreckage, and a whole bunch of cultists outside running around on fire. Jumping over the counter and going outside, Chef stood astonished at the massive scale of damage the meth lab sustained, along with the following high amount of human loss that usually happened whenever Trevor is involved with anything.
“Jesus Christ… Trevor is gonna be so pissed when he sees this,” Chef noted, scratching his head. He sure didn’t want to be there once Trevor got back. Hopefully one of the cultists was still partially alive, because Chef didn’t want to be Trevor’s venting punching bag again. That’s usually Wade or Ron’s job. “Actually… where is Trevor?”
“Jesus Christ… I am so fucking pissed,” Trevor muttered, face-first in some dirt. This wasn’t the first time that had happened, but the accompanying pain from glass shards digging into his back and about fifty pounds worth of meth lying on said glass shards. “Getting too fucking old jumping out of meth labs and dealing with white trash cultists.”
Groaning, Trevor picked himself off the ground and dusted off his already filthy shirt. “First off, I’m going to throttle Chef for not installing better security into the meth lab,” Trevor said, adjusting his gym bag full of dope. “Then, I need to build a new one. Just fucking great! After all the times I’ve helped those Altruist jackoffs! Bringing them hitchhikers and lost souls, and this is how they repay me? Fucking wonderful!”
“Halt!” a voice called out.
Looking up from his boots, Trevor was suddenly of his surroundings. There was over a dozen… dozen… things in a circle around him. He just couldn’t quite describe them. Squat and short, on all fours, with unnaturally huge eyes and long, protruding faces as well. All of them had the same white skin–or maybe it was fur–and blue hair. And to just add on to the weird factor was the fact they were wearing some type of golden armor much in the same style as a Roman warrior.
“State your business here!” one of them said, the sound of a human voice coming from his mouth so weird that Trevor blinked a few times just to be sure his eyes weren’t betraying him.
“Wait… just wait one fucking second,” Trevor said, holding up a finger and leaning forward slightly. “I am going through a really, really fucking bad trip now.”
“You appeared out of nowhere in the castle gardens,” the creature said, awkwardly holding a spear in its handless arm and pointing it at him. “State your business here on her majesty’s property or else you’ll be escorted off the premises!”
“Listen, I don’t give a fuck about your majesty or her fucking property!” Trevor spit in the guard’s face. “So escort yourself off your own fucking premises, because I am staying right where I am!”
“Then I ask you to follow me whoever or whatever you are, because this type of transgressions shall not stand against the royal guard.”
“Or, so you’re a guard, eh?” Trevor asked, leaning down so him and the guard were eye to eye. “Some big shot useless piece of shit paid minimum wage to stare at a wall all day long? Think that makes you better than me? You think that gives you the audacity to tell me what to do? You think that gives you–” Trevor leaned in close so the force of the words and his rank breath held more meaning, “–the balls to take me on?”
The guard backed away slightly, his muzzle wrinkled at the stench of the stranger’s mouth. None of the guards had ever been confronted by such a mysterious and utterly befoul being such as the one that had been discovered on the ground of the gardens. “S-sir, if you w-would please–”
“Oh, so I’m a fucking sir, huh? Wow, that’s really touching you regard me so fucking highly right now!” Trevor said, his expression so serious the guard couldn’t tell whether that was sarcasm or not.
“I… I…”
“I-I-I-I-I’m a fucking moron? Is that what you were going to say? Is it?”
“No, I–”
“Because that’s all I can see around me! A bunch of fucking freaks dressed like pimps who think they can talk down to me!” Trevor grabbed the spear the guard was holding and kicked his neck, knocking the guard to the ground. Pointing the end of the spear to the lot of them, Trevor snarled, “Come on, you motherfuckers! Come get some! If this is a fucking high dream, then you guys are already an improvement over the clowns!”
“Sister, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Luna asked, looking over the railing of the balcony of Celestia’s chambers.
“What is it, Luna?” Celestia replied, the regal princess joining Luna’s side on the balcony. Peering downward, she said, “I don’t see a thing.”
“There appears to be some type of bipedal creature down there.” Luna pointed in the specific spot out in the gardens of the castle courtyard. “And he seems to be attacking the guards.”
“Ah… I see it now,” Celestia agreed, noticing a strange figure beating a spear’s head on the helmet of one guard he had pinned under his foot. “How did that thing even get to the castle?”
“Maybe the magical energy surge we sensed before?” Luna guessed, shrugging her shoulders. “Though a random portal spitting out some even randomer alien into the gardens of the castle seems a little too… convenient.”
“Well, however that thing got here, it sure is doing a number on the guards,” Celestia noted, wincing as she just caught sight of the creature bashing two of the guards’ heads together, both falling unconscious to the ground when it released them. “It already took out a troop of them in less than ten seconds.”
Both sisters were then alerted to sirens going off into the distance, accompanied by horns sounding off in the corridors of the castle. The march of trotting hooves by large groups of guards reached their ears, and already squadrons of pegasi, unicorn, and earth pony guards were being deployed to the disturbance in the gardens.
“Well, now it is going to be taken out in less than ten seconds,” Luna said, the creature down below finished beating the face of the last guard into the dirt when it heard the alarms going off in the castle. It looked upward, seeming to stare right up at them. “And is it… watching us?”
“Nothing to fear, dear sister,” Celestia assured Luna, leaving the balcony to make her way down the tower. “The guards will surely handle that mysterious intruder, by the looks of how vastly outnumbered it is. Then we can question it personally on why it is trespassing and attacking our guards.”
“Are you sure this is wise, Tia?” Luna asked, following Celestia out of her chambers. “We don’t even know what that thing can do, much less what it is capable of.”
“Luna, Equestria is struck by danger on almost a weekly basis,” Celestia reminded her with a roll of her eyes. “Discord being freed, Sombra reemerging, Chrysalis invading, and even your revival as Nightmare Moon. Over the years I’ve learned to go with the flow and not freak out over every threat that presents itself. If I do, then I’d be a nervous wreck by now.”
Luna blinked. “That… makes a surprisingly amount of sense.”
Celestia nodded, a small smirk tugging at her cheeks. “Just don’t worry too much about it, Luna, and let the guards handle it. They’ve proved to be competent against dangers before in the past. Besides, what’s the worse that thing can do to the entire royal guard force converging on it?”
“Well shit, I think I just gained another star,” Trevor noted, letting go of the guard creature he had just finished beating up to a bloody pulp. Alarms were going off in the distance at that strange looking castle. Staring up at the topmost tower where he can vaguely make out two of the creatures that were similar to the ones he just took care of, he muttered, “And I didn’t even have to drive a fire truck into a burning orphanage to make that happen.”
Spitting on the unconscious or either dead body of the guard he just abused, he walked nonchalantly forward to the influx of guard making their way towards him. Looks like he just scored the extra bonus of ground and air troops as well. Trevor smiled, sticking the head of his bloodied spear in the ground while leaning on it.
“Let’s see if I can hit five stars!”