• Published 10th May 2016
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The Titan's Orb: Rising Storm - Old Man Dusters

While Callum and the Mane Six continue their quest to find the shards of the Titan's Orb, their path ahead grows only more deadly as they are now stalked by a relentless shadow that will stop at nothing until they are vanquished...

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Chapter Seven - A Practical People

{Well, depressed as you are, I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting you to commit suicide.} Conscio muttered as I woke.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t really too keen on getting sword raped by Nah’Lek.” I replied sleepily.

{I never said it was a bad thing, I just didn’t expect you to kick the bucket via face-fucking yourself with a sword.}

I stretched and realised I was on the floor; I went to sit up, only for a headache to crash through my head like a sledgehammer. I groaned with pain and put a hand to my head, to find a medium sized bump just above my right ear. After initially getting over the blunt pain, I sat up properly and found my phone next to me on the floor.

“Holy shit… Twilight and I really did switch bodies…” I muttered.

I stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of all this; Twilight and I had switched bodies in our sleep, meaning there was a third party that was involved, most likely Nah’Lek.
However, if Nah’Lek were already here in Portugal with us, he would have already killed us; so he must have switched us from a distance, which could only be done if Twilight and I were connected in some way.

{The Fel… Perhaps you have both been in contact with it.} My conscience suggested.

{Perhaps…} I thought back.

But how…?
That was the question.

I needed real answers, and I doubted I would be able to get them until I entered the Frozen Forest again.
What even WAS the Frozen Forest?
Nah’Lek mentioned it was the afterlife of Equestria, but I could barely believe that; I hated the fact I wouldn’t be able to find out yet.

I looked at my phone to find it was seven in the morning, so I decided to wash my face in the sink and get dressed; today I would receive my assignments and get to work for Paulo, so I got into the militia outfit I had stolen.
I put my phone in my pocket, then unsheathed Kroksbane and stroked the side of the blade, admiring the shape; since I had taken it from Vladimir Kikashcov, it had served me well.
While I lost Ingeo’s pistol and Wrinkleboom back in Chernobyl, I rather hoped that I would keep Kroksbane throughout my quest; I had become fond of the knife.
I put the blade away and picked up my UMP from the corner of my room, I didn’t want to leave this place unarmed, just in case.

“Where’s Paulo?” I asked the first guard I came across.

He nodded and beckoned me to follow him, and I did so with haste.

We came to the dining room from last night, and then approached a small hallway; we came to the last door and the guard gestured me to go through, and then walked off. I lightly rapped my knuckles on the door, and a few seconds later, it was opened, revealing a disgruntled Paulo.

Que porra você quer?” He growled angrily.

“Is that how you talk to all your guests?” I replied.

At that, his eyes widened with slight shock.

“Ah! My boy! My apologies, I didn’t recognise you with the balaclava on!”

I dipped my head to accept his apology, and he opened the door properly to shake my hand. Over his shoulder, I could see Dijla in his king-sized bed, evidently trying to cover herself with the duvet; her cheeks were bright red and appeared out of breath, it took all my effort not to cringe, as I knew what Paulo had been doing with her.

“I was wondering when I could get my hands on those assignments.” I told him.

“Fuck, you’re very keen aren’t you? The little bitch really does entice you eh?” He chuckled.

He put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me into the room, standing by my side and facing Dijla.

“You see this boy? This is the one who will be fucking our daughter soon; I propose to give her to him, as a gift.” He taunted.

With the balaclava on, Dijla also did not recognise me; her eyes widened with shock, before glaring into my own; the piercing stare was as bad as Fluttershy’s stare, it was slightly terrifying; a true mother’s love for her daughter.

“I’ll give your assignments in a few minutes; meet me in the dining room.” Paulo ordered.

I nodded and walked out the door, the door closed and I heard Paulo’s voice hiss to his wife.

“Now, where were we…?”

I shuddered and quickly made my way to the dining room.

I pulled out a chair and made myself comfortable, my left hand was aching slightly and I removed my glove to massage the hand. I rubbed my thumb over the large rounded scar where Ingeo had drilled through back in Brazil; I started remembering all the things he had done to me…
The saw… The red-hot screwdriver… The razor blades…
Ugh, the car battery…

The memories flooded my mind once more and I noticed my right hand began to tremble slightly.

{Since when did you have PTSD?} Conscio muttered.

“Since my life turned into a legendary shit-storm.” I replied.

{Just try to get over it, I would rather not be depressed AND traumatised.}

“What makes you think I want that either?”

{Dunno with you, you’re weird.}

“Says the sentient hunk of brain matter.” I scoffed.

I ignored the tremoring and continued to massage the aching hand, I guess the cold outside had stiffened the tendons that had been previously damaged; if it weren’t for the Kuphila Amanzi, I daresay my hand would still be rendered useless, that stuff worked wonders.
I put the glove back on and took my phone out, deciding to play with one of Twilight’s upgrades; the biometric body scanner to be specific. It quickly loaded up and gave me a good insight as to how I was doing.

[Illnesses: None
Abnormalities: (Asperger’s Syndrome), (Depression), (#?#)
Hunger: Satisfied
Thirst: Satisfied
Rest: Satisfied
Fitness: Athletically Fit
Overall Status: Healthy - At Possible Risk]

I tilted my head in confusion, it appeared there was a foreign body in me; but I didn’t feel any different.
What was even more concerning was that the phone could not identify whatever it was.


“Hm, I doubt it, as I don’t feel any different; wouldn’t it be corrupting me?” I replied.

{Dunno, but I think we should check regularly.}

“Agreed.” I mumbled.

A little while later I heard footsteps and Paulo entered the room, a big smile on his face.

“Brucey! The time has come! Let’s get you those assignments!” He sang.

I stood up and smirked, and went to shake his hand, to which he merrily did.

“Take your balaclava off boy; I want to see how well my wife worked that razor.” He commanded.

I was reluctant, but knew he would grow suspicious if I questioned him; I nodded and removed the balaclava, he eyed me up at down, and for a moment I thought he had recognised me and that my cover was blown.

“Well…” He hummed.

I gulped.

“She knows how to cut a beard at least; and improvement I must add.”

I smiled and sighed a slight breath of relief, before he beckoned me to follow him; we made our way to his office where we had met, where he sat in his chair, and I instinctively sat in the chair on the other side.
He opened his drawer and took out a cigar, lit one up, and began to smoke it, before taking a long sigh.

“Bruce, my boy; we are in some pretty deep shit.” He sighed, looking down.

“How so?” I asked.

“So, after Ingeo was killed in Brazil, I have been losing faith in my current boss, Hoyt Volker; we’ve had little contact and my business has been failing. To compensate this, I’ve been making deals with another gang a little further south of here, called the Blood Family; one of my bodyguards are undercover for Hoyt, and gave him this information.
Hoyt is apparently dealing with a situation of his own on his island, and is very stressed; so to punish me, he contacted the Blood Family and have told them I had plans to double-cross them.
I have already lost thirty men to this gang, and my business is sinking deep into the ground. I can’t make any new deals because the Blood Family have been hijacking every fucking trade I’ve made.” He explained, hitting his desk.

He threw his cigar across the room and grunted angrily.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“I want you to fuck up the Blood Family; I want them dead. Every fucking one of them!” He shouted.

I waited for him to calm down, before he continued.

“My militia are fucking shit; they’re a bunch of drug addicts who just about know how to fire a gun.
However, you Bruce, you are English; you people are smart you know? You can actually fucking think…
You Englishmen are a practical people; we have always admired that about you.
I want you to sneak into their compound, and kill as many of the fuckers as possible, all of them if you can.”

I nodded slowly, knowing I would have to plan it though strategically; I’d need information about the gang.

“I also want you to find Hoyt’s mole, the fucker who stabbed me in the back.” He ordered.

Again, I nodded.

“Good.” He muttered.

He took out another cigar and lit it up, and thought to himself for a moment. A minute went by before I decided to make a plan.

“I’ll get started on finding your mole first, make sure Hoyt doesn’t know your plans.” I told him.

“Good idea, sort that one out first; but how do we find the little shit?” Paulo growled.

I hummed to myself and thought for a moment.

{Idea!} Conscio announced.

{Let’s hear it?} I thought back.

Conscio went on to tell me his plan, which turned out to be a very clever one; when he finished, I explained it to Paulo.

“Okay, how about you inform your guards that there is another mole in the militia unit, working for Hoyt, and that he speaks English; command them to take the mole to you if they find him.
I will pretend to be the mole, and allow your guards to overhear my suspicious acts.
Put me in a cell, and make each guard check on me throughout the day.
The real mole will try to talk to me, believing that we’re on the same side, where I can double cross him and tell you who it is.” I concluded.

Paulo took a deep toke from his cigar, before blowing a smoke ring at me and smirking.

“As I said… A practical people…
Bruce, you may well be one of the smartest people in my organisation, I would happily make you my right hand man with a brain like yours; Ingeo chose well when selecting you for his militia.” He grinned.

“You are too kind, Paulo.” I replied with a smile.

“Kindness has nothing to do with it my boy, you’re a smart man, you know how this game works, and you play it well. You’re a man of strategy, I can tell, do you play chess?” He asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” I answered.

“When you have completed these first two assignments, we must play.” He said, finishing his cigar.

I nodded, and rubbed my hands together.

“Shall we get started?” I asked.

“Indeed, go and mingle with the militia, you’ll find them at the back of my compound by the prison cells, gamble with them, take some drugs, fuck one of the slave girls, just relax boy. My guards will be alerted very soon.”

I stood up, and shook Paulo’s hand.

“Next time you see me, you’ll be putting me in a cell.” I joked.

“Ha! So I will, you dirty little mole!” He laughed back, leaning back in his chair.

I turned around and left the room, and made my way to the gardens.

I walked slowly through Paulo’s garden, it bothered me that such a lovely home could be owned by such a horrible person; while I was acting all friendly with him now, I couldn’t wait to put Kroksbane into his gut…
Before going to the militia unit, I had a much better idea of where I was going; I walked to the prison block and opened the door, the guard on duty recognised my militia gear and assumed I was here to take his post. I went over to him and nodded, to which he nodded in reply; I took a long sigh as if I didn’t want to be there and gave the man a sharp tilt of my head to gesture that he could leave. He patted me on the shoulder and left, giving me the whole prison block to guard, I guessed Paulo was rather short staffed with the Blood Family gang, and only bothered to spare one guard for the prison; bad move on his behalf, and rather stupid too, having a mole on the loose.

I went from door to door and opened the hatches to look inside; each cell was full of over twenty people, even though the rooms’ cells were no bigger than a swimming pool changing cubicle.
Each time I opened the hatches, the prisoners inside squashed up to the back of the cells, terrified for their lives.

“Please don’t kill us!” A woman wailed as I opened a cell.

“I’m not planning on it.” I replied, closing the hatch, leaving her very confused.

I made my way past each door, checking inside, before I finally found her…
In a lone cell, in the middle of the room, knelt a girl; she didn’t move an inch and just stayed there, as if she had died in that position; almost as though she’d given up on life entirely and was just waiting to die.
I opened up the cell door, and walked towards her; she didn’t even look up at me.

“You are Bunnie, yes?” I said with a Russian accent.

She ignored me.

“I have message, from your father.”

“Tell him to rot in hell…” She spat.

I broke off the Russian accent and decided to brighten up her day.

“Oh I plan to, once I get your ass out of here.” I chuckled.

She looked up, and I took off the balaclava.
Her face lit up, her mouth opened but no words came out; she just stared at me as her eyes began to water up.

“Hello BunBun…” I said, full of love.

“Oh Callum…” She started, before bursting into tears.

I rushed forward and fell to my knees and embraced her in a warm hug, I held her tightly as she sobbed into my chest. She grabbed at my back and shoulders and just didn’t let go, gasping and whimpering with emotion as she placed her face to my neck and wept.

“Miss me?” I asked playfully.

She looked up, both her eyes and nose streaming, her lips parted and trembling, some saliva drooled from her bottom lip due to the sobbing; even in this condition she was still as beautiful as Christmas morning, which ironically I had missed.

“I… I thought you were d-”

“Until you find my body, I’m not dead; we’ve discussed this Bunnie.” I teased.

She responded by bursting into tears again and planting her face back into my chest. With one hand, I stroked the back of her head and played with her hair, and with the other hand, I lightly patted her back to the beat of my heart.
Pat, pat… Pat, pat… Pat, pat…

Eventually, after a few minutes, Bunnie calmed down and pulled away from me.

“You look different without the beard…” She spluttered in tearful laughter.

We laughed together and I gave her another tight hug.

“The homeless look didn’t really suit me.” I replied, chuckling.

She giggled and wiped her eyes, which were now quite bloodshot.

“So, my dad believes you’re on his side?” She asked, sniffing.

“Aye, although he almost recognised me.”

“From where?”

“Well… You see… I MAY have punched him in the face and stolen his speedboat back in Brazil.” I told her.

“You did what?” She squeaked.

“After I killed Ingeo and escaped his compound, I went to steal a boat and get out the country, when I came across your father at the docks. He was obviously a violent pretentious twat and went to hit me because he didn’t want anybody bothering him, and BAM! I gave him an uppercut to the jaw and knocked him clean out.”

She looked at me blankly for a few seconds.

“Dude… You are actually my hero…” She muttered.

I laughed, and we exchanged another hug.

“So, what happens now?” She asked.

“Well, I’m under cover as one of Ingeo’s old militia commanders, he thinks I was a massive big shot back in Brazil, and is considering making me his right hand man; I need to complete some of his more important assignments, and then he is going to give you to me as a gift; a token of a deal well-struck.” I explained to her.

“That’s brilliant, so we… Wait a second… As a gift?” Bunnie quizzed, bewildered.

“Yup, I’m basically claiming you as my personal slut.” I teased.

Bunnie looked at me blankly, before we both burst into laughter.

“Let me get this straight… You told my father that you want to own me as your own slave?” She asked.

I nodded, grinning.

“And he was totally chill with that?”

Again, I nodded.

“What’s the catch?” Bunnie asked suspiciously.

“There isn’t one; I just need to complete his assignments.” I answered merrily.

“What are his assignments?”

“Locating a mole in the organisation, and annihilating a rival gang.”

“Annihilating a gang! How do you expect to accomplish that?” She exclaimed.

“Are you forgetting that I slaughtered twenty men in less than an hour and then infiltrated your father’s gang only yesterday?” I reminded her.

“Who’s the gang?”

“Some jumped up twats called the Blood Family.”

“WHAT? NO!” She shrieked.

“What?” I asked, jolting in surprise.

“They’re just as feared as my father’s gang; they’re ruthless and kill without mercy. Not even my dad’s militia unit deal with them, they often pussy out and alert the police about their next moves.” She explained.

“Wait, so Paulo’s gang communicate with the police?” I asked, astounded.

“Corruption at its best.”

I hummed in response.

“But my point is, you can’t fight the Blood Family; they’ll kill you.”

“You know, I’m really starting to get bored of being told that people will kill me.” I moaned.

“Why aren’t you scared?” Bunnie mumbled, shaking her head lightly.

“I am scared, you donut.” I replied, sticking my tongue out.

“You don’t look it…”

“That’s because I hide my fear, in order to focus on what’s important.” I told her.

“And what’s that?”


Bunnie lifted her head and looked me in the eyes, before putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh Callum…” She started.

She tilted her head slightly, and it was adorable; she then moved her head closer and my heart began to race. She placed her head to my chest and the moved her lips up to my ear, I felt a warm shiver shoot down my spine as she did so.

“That was so fucking cheesy.” She whispered.

My face dulled, and Bunnie pulled away from me and burst into laughter, I eventually saw the funny side and laughed with her.
When we settled down again, she embraced me in a hug.

“Jokes aside, I really do appreciate what you’re going through to help me.” She sighed with a warm smile.

“You, and your mother; I promise to get you both out of here.” I replied, tightening the hug.

“You’ve seen my mum?”

I pulled away and nodded.

“How is she?”

“She’s… Well, she could be doing worse.” I answered.

“That’s better than what I expected to be honest.” Bunnie mumbled.

Her mood dropped once again, her sense of hope and faith was so delicate that it was merely hanging by a thread.

“Hey.” I spoke.

I put a finger under her chin and brought her head up to face me.

“I’m getting you both out of here…”

She opened her mouth to speak when I cut her off.

“I promise you Bunnie…”

We made contact for a good few seconds, but it felt like hours; I eventually grew shy and looked away, when suddenly Bunnie leaned forward, held my head in her hands, and planted her lips against mine.

And the whole world, just… Stopped...
All time and space, just… Stopped…

What I felt in this moment, I did not just feel on my lips; I felt it throughout my entire body.
I couldn’t describe it; it was just warm, yet so cooling at the same time.
I felt my heart melt as it began beating faster and faster, so fast that it began to hurt, but in the most brilliantly exquisite way. All my past, all my trauma, and my bitter anguish swept away like water down a drainpipe.

Everything that I was, and everything that I felt transformed and became enchanted.
In that moment, everything made sense.
And everything felt right.

I loved her…
I loved Bunnie...

A moment so happy and pleasant, and so full of passion, would only last a few seconds…

{Like sex.}

Conscio shut the FUCK up!

{Lol, worth it.}

A moment so happy and pleasant, and so full of passion, would only last a few seconds; Bunnie pulled away and broke the kiss, before looking away blushing and looking ashamed.

“I’m sorry… I… I shouldn’t have done that…” She spoke quietly.

For a second time I placed a finger under her chin and made her face me.

“No, it’s okay… It’s fine… I um… I actually kinda-”

I was interrupted by the sound of the prison’s main door being opened.

“You need to get out of here.” Bunnie ordered.

I nodded and looked at her for a couple seconds, taking in all the details of her face; I could tell that she was doing the exact same thing, just in case I never came back.

“Try not to wander off.” I teased.

She frowned at me, before grabbing the collar of my militia jacket and pulling me in for one more kiss; it only lasted a second and was far less passionate, but the meaning and affection was still there.

“Try not to get yourself killed.”

“I’ll do my best.” I replied, winking.

I stood up, and left the cell, only looking back once before shutting the door and locking it.

Just in time, I had gotten into the same position as the original guard, when another militia guard came around the corner and nodded to me that I was free to go. I patted him on the shoulder and walked off to the exit; I reached the door and opened it.

Upon stepping into the gardens, I was greeted by the wonderful sight of snow. Besides the Frozen Forest nightmares, this was the first time I had seen snow in ages, as it didn’t snow at all last year.

After spending a little while admiring the scene, I made my way up a large stairwell that took me to a large plaza behind the prison; all around the place were a good fifty men, all dressed in the same navy blue gear, all armed with AK-Forty Sevens and UMPs.

I wandered around, rather anxious as I had no idea who to socialise with; Paulo had mentioned that all his militia unit didn’t speak English, and I couldn’t speak a damn word of Portuguese. The best I could do was sign language and body gestures.

I located a group of men playing Texas Hold’em Poker, which I was extremely good at; I thought I’d make a name for myself the easy way and approached the table, which had an empty seat.
Two of the men seemed quite young, perhaps in their early twenties, while the third man opposite the empty chair was big and bulky, with a huge beard; he had a big squared jawline and I assumed he was Russian.

“Mind if I join?” I asked, pointing to the chair.

“Chto stavish'?” He asked, poking the stash on the table.

I looked at the current pot, to find a throwing knife, a packet of heroin, two UMP magazines, and a gold ring that was worn on a man’s recently severed finger, dark thick blood oozing from it.
I took my UMP and pulled out the magazine, and threw it into the pile; the man smiled and gestured for me to sit down.

The cards went around and we played a few games, with each win, a player took a commodity of their choice from the pot; and upon losing, they would have to return them.
We played three games before someone lost entirely, and was forced to leave the table; I had won twice and had taken a couple of UMP mags, but lost on a third game and had to give one back; for a group of foul, ruthless, bloodthirsty thugs, I was genuinely having some fun.

We hit the fourth game, and the player beside me tried to look at my cards, I noticed out of the corner of my eye and turned my cards away, looking the man in the eye and growling at him, baring my teeth. He placed a hand on his knife and in a flash, I had drawn Kroksbane and placed it against his throat.

“Try me. Fucking try me. I dare you.” I hissed.

The spectators of the game all gathered around and watched intently, hoping I would kill him, but I waited to see his next move; I knew mercy at least.
He slowly let go of his knife and raised his hands in the air in surrender, gulping.
I took his knife and placed it in the gambling pot, just to prove a point, before putting Kroksbane back in its sheath.

“There’s a clever noodle.” I said with a smile.

I picked up my cards and he picked up his; the game continued and we carefully eyed each other as the round went on. Our wary observation of each other caused our stride to falter, and the dealer won, taking the last UMP magazine, causing the both of us to grunt with frustration and give our commodities, I threw in my second UMP magazine, and he put in a pistol magazine.

“Etogo malo!” The dealer grunted in a thick Russian accent.

I looked between the two curiously, and guessed my opponent hadn’t put in a good enough bet; enraged, he grabbed his magazine back and spat on my face, before storming off; I looked to the dealer, wiped the spit off my cheek and then smiled, before putting my last magazine into the UMP and turned back to the asshole who was now a few metres away.

“Hey, fuckface!” I called.

He turned around to face me and I pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through his head and spraying brain matter all over the floor behind him; he hit the floor with a hard thud.

“Not such a clever noodle…” I sighed, shaking my head.

I sat back around to find the dealer howling with laughter, along with a few other spectators chuckling at the situation.
It was now just me against the dealer, and so we began to play…

This guy was good, very good. Ten games went by and we had constantly exchanged goods to and from the winner’s pot; I could tell he was growing impatient, and I didn’t want a fight to break out, but nor did I want to lose.

We hit our eleventh game, and I needed to win only two more items to take the whole pot; the dealer handed out the cards, upon looking at them I was greeted by the king of spades and the king of diamonds; I decided to play the oldest trick in the book, and looked angrily at the cards, frustrated.
The trick worked, and he believed I had bad cards, and put in his second to last commodity, a fourth UMP magazine.
I tapped the table twice to check, and he placed another card on the table, the king of hearts. I bit my lip and looked like I was taking a big risk, and put the ring (still on the bloody finger), into the pot. For a second time, he took the bait, and placed in his last commodity, a bone handled Karambit knife.

{Ooh! Ooh! I’ve always wanted one of those!} Conscio chirped.

A second card was put down, which revealed an ace of diamonds; the dealer smirked slightly, which made me worry, what if this guy had two aces?
I called a UMP round into the pot, and the dealer checked, and a third card was put down, the king of clubs.

{Fucking SORTED.} I thought merrily.

We both checked, and lay down our cards.
The dealer had two aces, as predicted, which gave him three of a kind.
I sat back in my chair and smiled at my four of a kind; luck was definitely on my side.

I leaned forward and began taking the pot, when the dealer grabbed my wrist tightly and held it against the table; I looked up to find him glaring at me. I gulped, and waited to see what he did next before drawing my weapon.

“Good game…” He spoke, before letting go and shaking my hand.

I dipped my head in respect, before taking his Karambit knife; he took the sheath off his belt and tossed it to me, I slotted the knife in and attached it to my own belt.

“You speak English?” I asked, pulling the ring off the severed finger.

“Very little.” He replied, his Russian accent was very thick.

I gave him a smile, before taking the goods from the pot and putting them in my pockets; putting the UMP mags in the holsters on the outside of my jacket. I saw some of Paulo’s personal guard walking my way, and decided to make myself known; I fiddled with the ring as I turned away from the poker game and waited for the guards to come within earshot.

“This is a lovely ring; I might send it to Hoyt.” I spoke aloud, as though I were talking to myself.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the guards look at me and then nudge his friend. I walked off and put the ring in my pocket, and seconds later I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

“Come with us.” A voice spoke.

I turned around to face the guard, he wore a thick black leather jacket, much like the guard beside him; both of them had revolvers holstered on their belts.

“Why?” I asked.

“We want to talk to you.” He said gruffly.

“What if I don’t want to talk to you?” I replied.

“I will kill you.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Nor is betraying your boss.” He spat, his Portuguese accent much stronger than Paulo’s.

I looked him in the eye for a good few seconds, before pleading guilty.

“Okay, you caught me, take me to Paulo and I’ll confess…” I sighed, looking down.

He responded by punching me in the gut, hard; I dropped to one knee and almost threw up, I was completely unprepared for the hit and was badly winded, it took a good few seconds for the bile in my throat to go back down. As I was forced to my feet I let out a few painful coughs.

“Move, scum.” The second guard ordered.

I spat on the floor and painfully made my way to Paulo’s office, each man on either side of me.

The double doors were opened for me and I was forcefully shoved by both men into the room, I fell forward and hit the floor, my UMP clattering loudly as I did so.

“We found the mole.” One of the guards growled.

I looked up to find Paulo looking down at me from his desk, giving me a psychotic smile.

“Strip him, and throw him into an empty cell.” He ordered.

I was grabbed by the arms and hoisted up to my feet, before all my possessions were taken from me and put in a chest in the corner of the room.

I was left with just my underwear, before I was rifle-butted in the back of the head, the unexpected pain completely jolted my body and I fell to the ground, now dazed; my ears were ringing and my vision blurred. The guards grabbed my arms and dragged me away, I looked up to Paulo to see him waving goodbye as the doors closed.

Once the doors had been shut, one of the guards pulled out his revolver and hit me over the back of the head a second time, and everything went black…

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