ARCH 3

“…all I wanna do is…   #! #! #! #!  …and a, 🐓🔫®🤑    …and take your money…”

10 April 2019, noon.

O Hotel Exclusivo Peregrino

Brasilia, Brazil

Bander.

Free, white and 21.

Trust fund baby, affluent life, does affluent things.

Ivy educated. Business savvy.  Knows his hendiatris.

Enjoys art, extreme sports, unlimited power and influence over others, their environments, und being single.

Recognizes his high place of privilege and isn’t afraid to use it as an ends to his means.

Bander is finishing another influencer selfy video to a few hundred thousand worldwide subscribers from his ultra plush hotel room,

“Alllllriiiiight, yeaaaaahhh!  okay, so yesterday was another wild wild WILD one y’all.  Some fresh ACTION BANDER clips coming your way soon foooooolz so stick around and find out as we got some killer views incomiiiiiiing!  

I finally caught some augemented reality vids on my new gopro i357 loaded lux narrative edition and I have to mention how really impressed I be with this one.  I, I think I found a new favorite.  It’s got the tried and true impact shock resis-tech internals; seal-skin glass; and Oh!  I’m really digging this limited edition bronze-white color; and under that hood we got the latest and greatest beta v2 intel cointra pro 501st chip putting out some sweet af VORHUDs.  That’s virtual over reality heads up displays for those noobs out there; defs more on that later.

In the meantime, just know, that fo’ sho’ fo’ sho’,
It’s got BALLZ WAZAAAAAaaaaa!!!

Aiigh’t, aiigh’t, i already know what you’re gonna ask in the comments, I’ll just go ahead and say it, yes, Brasilia is my top choice for wing-suiting, and yes, I would choose it over Poland eeeaaaaANYday.  This is my second time here and I just gotta say, Brazil is where its aaaat yo!  Thinking of taking a break for a few weeks, really take up the local sights and eats and let you guys miss me for while.   Maybeeeee,- check out another museum, get some more inspiration for another painting, the uzhe.

What’s next after this tour?!  Maybe go deep sea fishing in the Ambergris Caye, or Sicily…   …or San Diego?

Scratching my head on that one; hit me up in the comments on what y’all think would be bumpin’ for some good-time fishin’.  Y’all can vote on it or whatever, help me out there.

And speaking of bumpin’, BUMP the hell outta that like and share button and check out those links below for that BANDER TIME!® merch!

And remember simps! Anything you can do BANDER can do better! ™

Blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh out  😜🖕”

Bander made some creative edits capitalizing on his augmented reality assisted routes to improve his wing-suit action clips.  He was particularly proud of this one.  He added the scarface intro audio for dramatic pre-jump flair and build up, cross-faded himself against himself from his last jump (at one point making it seem like he gave himself a high five), and in one section added himself dodging a blimp and then blasting through another one to spice up a relatively boring part of the flight.  He had the blimps read “the world is yours” in max font and did the slow-mo effect and camera zoom-ins and outs around it for extra cool factor.  Satisfied, he uploaded his content, confident that it would be well received and liked by the masses, then got freshened up for an afternoon of exploration.

In the lobby he patrons the indoor Cheesecake factory themed restaurant and grille for a late lunch.

A big screen by the bar shows silent local news coverage of mudsides in the mountain areas, lives devastated, stock market percentages and green/red arrows scroll by at the bottom.  On the other big screen next to it the football channel is on, complete with Ronaldo career stats and nike sponsorships.

There’s a small crowd of wealthy folks scattered around having a classy time.

Minority under class workers zooming by here and there, moving stuff around looking busy, serving the clientele.

Bander is thinking to himself, {This place is the sht, what a good find.  Heard they opened a Tim Hortons nearby.  Should pass by tomorrow, see if their chocolate chunk cookies hold up.  Cocoa grows well here and is quality.  Brazilian sugar is tops now, like what, 19% of the global market…   …sugar is always stable and in demand, the reserve army of labor here is dirt cheap, it’s got all the low-risk high-gains attributes. Can imagine coming here way more often.  Should talk to the owner. Get a whole floor of rooms here, fk it.  The sheets feel amazing, location’s convenient and close to airports, and everybody seems to know their place.  Beautiful balcony views of the favelas lighting up the mountain sides.  They understand real innovation here and how adding value and convenience to the consumer is paramount.  They got that down to even to the littlest nuances and creature comforts.  It’s safe here.  They would have to share their security system workings though, can’t have any blind-spots.

If not, oh well, just buy a a few acres nearby and set up another high sec low-key villa near an expat community or something.  It’s Whatevs, I like it here.  Vibes are mellow and that’s the calling.

Location is convenient, this area is safe, the meat is banging,  the plebs are extra docile and structured, and I can just load up and go wing-suiting anytime.  It’s totes cozy af}

Bander is comfortable in an outskirt table and was soon attended to for his orders.

He amuses himself flexing the insignificant amount of portuguese he knows,

“Sim, obriguydoh.  i’ll have the oysters with finger lime, paohdey…   eh, cheesy bread, aaaand ooh, i can say this one, chewraskeira.  Had that yesterday, blown away.  Chef ‘berto knows his craft i’ll say that right now, he’s back there today right hun?”

The waitress politely smiles and nods.

“Nice nice, that’s perfect.  In that case I would like his take on a butter tart – no no, let’s make that two, three if you would like to help yourself to one.  As for the specifics, however he wants to do it.  That guy’s an artist, I trust him to surprise me.”

Bander smiles and winks at the waitress.

{Gorgeous, but not my type}

“And eh, glass of your oldest Chilean wine if you would please”

The waitress gives a small confirmational bow and takes her notes to the kitchen.

Bander kills time using his phone to research the most exclusive high-end clubs in the area while waiting.

He relishes his prep-time.  Reads re-views.  Attentive to key words.

He had that jungle fever, and was going to be extra picky with his meat tonight.

Telling himself he deserves it, as winging it yesterday had left him too exhausted to hunt for fun.

Working himself up to the good time he is expecting to buy tonight.

 

The sudden and outrageous pitter patter downpour coming from the outside rain is muffled inside.

Soon after, a bright lightning flash crashed through the fancy arched windows.
Loud mini quake from the bang and thunder.  
Privileged gasps throughout the massive lobby as the mood lights dimmed back into place.

Bander is slightly annoyed at this unforcasted development.

{That was a scary one.  exciting.

Siri says that rain should clear out in a few hours.  Tonight should still be-}

He felt a pleasant smelling shadow whisp past him

    {-oh well hellOOoOoOoOwww there.

This is pleasant and unexpected.  Damn she’s banging.

Yeah, that’s spicy.  That’s very fkn spicy.  She’s off the scoville kind of spicy!

That’s MAH TYPE!}

 

A fit and curvy, exotic, provocatively dressed woman had graced her way to the bar to pick up an order. 
Everybody noticed, some found themselves rudely staring.

{Love this place.  I FKN LOVE THIS PLACE.

She’s gotta be part of the amenities}

Bander couldn’t resist a lip-bite reaction and sat up much straighter in his chair.

{Forget about going out tonight.

Better plan, stay here, pay whatever she asks, you only live once.

Gotta add her to the collection, she can hit my top 5 easy.  Treat yourself, you deserve it.

Time to get it. 
Get in there and get it get it.
Get it and BANDER it!

Right, be cool, let’s see what we got}

The Hotel has Sting playing in the background,

{Fkn ace.  never thought this song would come in handy someday.

gotta hurry.

give it a moment, time it just right…

…okay now!  go go go!}

Bander grooves his way up to the bar.  He’s got rhythm, he’s got swag, his charm’s top notch and he’s dressed for the occasion.

He rolled up with grace to the background music.  Some people noticed and went back to not caring.

Bander smoothly angled up to the bodacious lady sideways at the counter. 
He brought the playful lyric matching antics up in her space.

“♪0h caaaaaant you seeeeeee.  you beloong to meeeee.

how my poor heaart achesss!….   With every step you take!♪ …”

The amazonian princess gasps in surprise and amusement, reflectively grooved with him as he was performing, then confidently jumped in and kept the game going.

Eyes wide and with cool style she sings along, “…♪Every mooove you make…   …and every vow you break…  every smile you fake, every claim you stake, i’ll be watching you♪…”

She acted her own part in the song and gave him the v-point eyes in cute fun mock as they laughed and the song returned to the background.

Bander was dumb-struck and kept laughing a little longer than prudent.

He wasn’t expecting her quip and this derailed his initiative.

She expertly made it easy on him, lightly gave him a tap with the back of her hand to his and compliments him, 

“Obrigada, gostoso, você é uma pessoa muito divertida e romântica, eu vejo?”

Bander didn’t understand at all what she said, {She’s so dope, so spicy, her accent and voice hits just right. fkn BANGIN’.

This cinammon girl is all me.  She’s gotta speak English, they prolly wouldn’t’ve let her in here if she didn’t.  She sang that song flawless so is she fkn with me?

whatever, just find a way to let her know you got the pockets for her and you’ll be good.  Dollars and numbers are universal languages, she’ll get it.  Damn she’s spicy as fk}

Bander scratches his head, flashing his tag heuer watch and terrible portuguese, “Oh, eo muto pokeytoh falda.  Ehm, i was hoping you knew how to spea…    …?”

Bander stops speaking as she deliberately leans in closer to him with doe eyes; he’s a deer stuck in headlights.

Mystery lady playfully brings her index finger slowly towards his upper chest;
he remains firmly in place while feeling himself levitating backwards from the shoulders.

He looks down tickled and confused.

She smoothly points upwards and teases “got your nose!” while lightly brushing it.

Bander toes curled up in his socks to the smell of her wrist.

{Awwwwwwwww snap that felt good.  What a rush.

What the fck was that.  da fck waas thaaaaaat. That was different.  Who is she?

Who gives a fck.  Doesn’t matter.  Bander first, questions later yo!}

Bander laughs with her then squeezes in the cliche, “May I be nice and offer you something?  A drink?”

The woman curles her hair as she replies, “Obrigada, but i have a nice drink coming already”

Bander steps it up a notch with pastries, “Can I get you a hello-nice-to-meet-you cheesecake?  Strawberry flavor maybe?  My treat?”

The bartender places on the counter her order; it’s a pretty pastry to-go box and a mango-raspberry smoothie.

The lady slyly replies, “Looks like my it-was-nice-to-meet-you treat is here already, muito obrigada for offer to me.” 
[flirtingy smiles at him]

Bander starts to get nervous, this is a deal he is losing, he feels he has to try to peacock his wealth in order to establish dominance and interest.
He tries to keep up in this substextual cat and mouse game.

{Alright alright, you got this.  Sht, never had this happen to me before.  I’m supposed to be leading right now but she isn’t letting me buy her stuff.  Why is she closing those openings.  Is she open for business?  Does she want to get together or not.  Fck, what do i say, what do i do.  gotta bring her in.  find something in common or something.  stop trying to buy her sht.  focus on buying her.  what she thinks is her worth.  Everyone has a price…}

Bander awkwardly blurts out, “So you like treats eh?”

She forgives his blunder and rolls with it,

“Treats are nice, jyess. i like treats and sweet things just like any other big girl 😋.  You like sweet things also gostoso?”

{Nice, she’s engaging.  Bring something up like, I melt in your hands not in your mouth or something like that},

“Well I…   it just so happens, I’mma sweets connoisseur of sorts 😏. 
I’m nice wit it, a real sugar daddy, extra rich hun.
Let’s just say, i know my way around quality snacks and i’ve been called maple-licious before…”

He plays it as cool as he can while keeping watch over her reactions, finding himself a little lost in them.

She glides her manicure over her Gucci clutch, her other fingertips pinches her lower lip before speaking,

“Me thinks i know what you mean…”

She fixes her hair over her ear and playfully flicks Bander’s lower rico-suave shirt button, testing his reaction…
…she then gets danger close to his ear, as if sharing a secret, “Being a maple-licious sugar daddy sounds expensive…”

The woman retakes her posture and adjusts her dress’s spaghetti strap on her sexy shoulder curve as she straightens her terms,

“Sugar daddy sounds nice.  Maybe some day i get lucky to meet that sweetest somebody…”

She counts down with her hands and mouth,

“My Lottery numbers for me are three days, 2 million, one forever experience…”,  

a seductive look and eyebrow flick finishes her offer.

{fk yeah!  Gonna Bander this chick!  Sht though!  3 days is a lot of commitment…  …and 2 fkn million! wtf!  that would be the most I’ve…  …probably anybody in history has…  …but at the same time you’re getting higher quality and exclusivity.   Bragging rights.  Chill vibes.  She likely wants to go shopping and shit.  Might as well, take up the sights and eats, buy sht and have little escapades in between.  Make this the complete package deal.  Fk yeah, that’s what the good life is all about and she’s got the goods.  Fk it, take the offer, it’s just a couple of million, and worst case scenario just hit it and bounce.  What’s she gonna do, beg you to stay once she has the cash?  For that price fo’ sho’ it’s gonna be the full girlfriend experience, can’t wait to tap that.  What next, do I have to wait for my order first, did she want to do this now or…}

The beautiful stranger give’s him the this is your last-chance-look, then lifts her leg up slightly indicating boredom and being just about done here.

She baits Bander with a teasing goodbye smirk, then switches her purse to her other sexy shoulder as she goes to pick up her things.  
Bander splashes immediately into action, finding himself snatching her order as he bites on her offer,

“Guuuurl.  I’m that somebody.

Treat me right and we can get a whole week going on, money ain’t a thang.

I mean, this sweet-ass somebody of yours is a gentle-MAN there mah’ lady and I got all the time in the world. 
Check it out,  get yourself some of this maple-licious chivalry as a warm up”

Bander has her order in one hand, elbow extended in the other.

“oooooh, Muito gentil, obrigadissima”, the captivating lady accepts his arm invitation.

{Yes!  That was good.  good one!  Real smooth.  Totally gettin’ it!  Follow her to her room, talk business.  It’s gonna happen; it’s BANDER TIME!}

She wraps up on him like a littlefeather and flies him out, up and away. 
Bander awkwardly floats beside her with nothing to break the silence, too busy impatiently thinking about how lucky this evening is turning out and how amazing it’s going to feel soon.

She keeps him entertained in the elevator with snapple talk, “Did you know, before name this place peregrino, it was name campous de oro?”.

{Yeah whatever slut.  The owner already told me, something about that sting singer and these guys obsession with him in the area.  Jungle rights, good one sting.  WAZZAAAA!  Hit the jack-pot again!  This was a tough one though, gotta step my game up.  Can’t wait to smash.  Btch is so fkn spicy.  How far will she go to show me a good time?  She’s definitely an amazing actor and that voice is heavenly.  Gonna push those cushions hard and get my dollarz worth.  She’s got that extra vibe in spades.  She’s going to take me places i just know it.  Did she ever tell me her name?  Don’t say anything just in case she did; just keep calling her hun.  Damn, that body of hers looking like a backroad- so many curves and me here with no breaks.  Yeah I could handle this all week if I wanted to fo’ sho’ fo sho’.  Ooof, so spicy.  Never tried going that long with anyone before.  that’s what i’m talking about!  Pushin’ the border limits!  going further.  go big, go bander or go home!  YEAAAAAAAAH!
GONNA BE SMASHING UP ON THAT FATTY AND POON REAL SOON!!!!!}

 

Bander replies as innocently as he could, “Wow, i had no idea, that means gold something right?”

Bander is escorted to the top floor, hotel hallway, room 555.

The gorgeous woman invites him in, then closes the door behind them.

As he takes a few steps in and the main room opens up he realizes that things are totally off.

He looks back at her confused and worried.

She’s not the same person of a few seconds ago. 

She briskly takes the box and drink from him, puts it to the side entryway table and aggressively commands him further into the bedroom, pushing him around, “mova-se!  saia do caminho!”

Bander stumbled into a bad scenario.

{i fkd up, i fkd up, i’m going to get killed. fk is thiiiis!?

This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.  nobody knows i’m here.  this was supposed to be a safe place.

This is a safe place!  I’ve always been careful.  what the fk is happening.  This has to be a punked joke or something.  Wtf!  Please be fake.  Please be fkn fake.  This can’t be real}

An elderly native woman is sitting in the far end corner with a large leather scabbard on her lap.

An older child is on the other side wall squatting on the floor, minding a small laptop with split screens and a radio next to it.

On the center room bed is the Hotel owner’s wife lying there. 
There’s a small blood pool where her hand should’ve been, her face and remaining eye are staring into the deathly hollows of nothingness in his direction…
…as if reaching for the escape door behind him.

The bathroom door is open and there’s a flush.

Bander is scared shtless.  All of his senses zoned in while at the same time all over the place.

{oh sht oh sht oh sht.  this is some hostel sht wtf}

A lighter flicks a few times before catching.  Smell of smoke.

Hand washing noises.  Coughs and grunts and movements.

Metal on ceramic and more running water.

A mature weathered man in a black wife-beater, glasses and shoulder holster walks out of the bathroom with some kind of cigarette in his mouth.

He’s finishing wiping off a machete with the unbloodied side of a hotel towel.

He looks over to Bander and the woman that brought him in, then nods unamused.

With a unique barely noticeable middle eastern accent, he adds to the tension,

“Well salaam there to ya mate.

little early for a nightcall wouldn’t ya think?”

{what the fck did I walk into!  what should i do?  Don’t let him get close.  Fk is this.  he’s going to kill me!?} 

Bander is disconnected and distant, like he was living his life in the third person looking in. 
{You fkd up.  you fkd up!  This psycho is going to rape and kill you.  Or kill you and rape you!  Or both at the same time.  what the sht man! This is supposed to happen to other people.  not me!   i shldn’t have come here.  I shouldv’e gone to fkn Poland!}

“Hey now; wake up nemo” , the man snaps loudly twice,

“I presume you speak english, am I being overtly presumptuous?”

Bander nods quickly, but then panics and shakes his head.

Escort woman shows machete man a room card behind Bander.  Attentive to their interaction.

The machetero nods at her and gets the floor kid’s attention “Pepe, lleva e esto a equipo A.  tambein, porefavore, los papeles deste tolo porra.”

The boy got up with his radio, takes the ziplock bag with ice and body parts, and took the key card from the woman on his way out.

Pepe peeks out and looks both ways down the hallway before disappearing into the different levels and stairways.

The man apologizes to Bander while looking around,
“You’ll have to forgive me if I seem a bit upset, I wasn’t expecting unexpected visitors, so i gotta make some schedule adjustments for us.

Plus, the place is a mess right now, how embarrassing you catching me like this.  Afford me a moment to set things up for us.”

Machete man is agilely limping around re-arranging the furniture a bit, his smoke following him around as he makes a makeshift sitting space for Bander and himself with a small table in between,

“We can have a seat, relax for a moment, admire the scenery, maybe talk things out…  you know?  See if we can get your dumb-ass out of here and on your way in one piece.  Standby”

The man picks up his radio.

< Equipo D pendiente demora, equipo D pendiente demora, confirme >

Low radio static.

<< Equipo D em espera equipo D em espera, fin >>

He clips the radio back to his buckle and gets closer to bander and their new almost done table set up.

The man speaks in an understanding, authorative, almost mocking tone;
“You must be all kinds of perturbed right now.

Expectation’s were going one way, things were supposed to go well but then, in an instant, all those plans blew up in your face.

Welcome to the club mate.

I bet you have all kinds of questions and worries…

of course you would, i mean, look at this place…”,

the man gestures the room scene, “…it’s bloody awkward.”

Done with arrangements, the confident man squares up akimbo in front of Bander and looks around over the heads in the room. 

Bander felt this guy take his air and couldn’t do anything about it. 

The man adjusts his glasses, taking his time before speaking, almost as if daring Bander to cough over the smoke inbetween them,

“Walking into a scene like this must not be a common occurrence in your life.

Sht like this is usually enjoyed from a safe distance for people like you; like a movie or news report or a book or something amarite?

You must not know what to do and could use some help.

So here’s some tips son,

If you’re thinking to; maybe, start screaming or running or get to swinging or something risky like that…

That would be, extremely, ill advised.  Look around.

This isn’t the time nor the place for that.

You’re in an environment you have no control over.

Do you feel like you can take any one of us on?  Do you think some rando out there is going to come in and save you?

You one of those people who thinks they can outfight a bear or something?”

Bander shows his submission, “n, no sir, no sir.  no problems sir, i-“

“Then I highly encourage you to stay chill there boo boo.  As you are doing right now.

You’re doing great.  I’m sure yous a good guy and nothing bad happens to good people right?”

Bander doesn’t reply.

Machete man shifts his weight to the side from infront of Bander and gestures the people in the room before shifting back,
“Hey, we all humble folks here.

So let’s be civil.  Let’s be suave about this.

Participate.  Collaborate.  Be open and honest and sht. 
I think we will all be doing just fine if you relax a little.

Keep that in mind mate, we all looking to live to fight another day in here,
so let’s not complicate things.”

Bander notices the machete at ease in the man’s left hand, his pinky and ring digits completely missing, bringing dread over the thought of he himself being mutilated.

The man gently accommodates Bander to sit down while he stays towering over him,

“You’re a guest.

I’ll be your host for the time being.

I’ve got all kinds of names.

I invite you to call me Cassandro if you’d like, or refer to me in any way you feel comfortable.

And you; how’d ya like to be addressed as…?”

Bander sums up the courage to reply,

“Ban- My name is Bander sir, please sir don’t hurt me sir.  I don’t-“

Cassandro interrupts in surprise, “Bander!  that’s!    …a cool fkn name there buddy…

Bander mah bud!  Would you like a bidi?”

Cassandro offers a bidi from a small cigarrette case, open palmed.

Bander shakes his head declining meekly, trying to keep himself from crying from the fear waves coming over him.

Wishing he could disappear from there and be anywhere else.

Sniffling, boogies out, afraid to move or speak at all.

Cassandro looks down in disgust at Bander and offers him his cloth, “Here, use my Shemagh, it’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.

Go ahead and blow your nose on it.

Can’t do anything with snot between your eyes right?…

…that can be hella distracting”

Bander stays comatose with a runny nose. 
Cassandro lightly tosses the Shemagh on his lap, telling him he can keep it.

The woman steps in momentarily and hands Cassandro the pretty box and drink.

“ah!  Obrigado!  Muito amable Mosa”

Cassandro sets the box on the table next to Bander, then takes the cold smoothie over to the elderly woman on the other side of the room. 
When he turned his back on her, she snapped her fingers and he stopped dead in his tracks.

He valiantly tries to make a case,

“Mas Vovo Tuira!  porfavor 🙏, solo umos pocos minuitos mais!  no saveimos a om este muchacho .  eo hasta loa afil-“

The elderly woman isn’t asking, she’s demanding.

She snaps twice. 

Cassandro, defeated, nods respectfully. 

His fun time with this legendary machete is over. 

He takes a fresh towel off the bed, spits on the machete and buffs it out admiringly one last time, removing a small smidge off the blade before handing it to it’s rightful owner…

Vovo tugged once from the handle, he resised giving it up, she angrily slaps him across the arm while yanking her machete back.

She then shooed him away violently with it, all without getting up nor spilling her drink.

Cassandro limp-dodged away in time, almost catching a bad gash. 
He apologizes as he eases his way towards Bander and away from her,

“Ta beim ta beim, vovo, disculpa disculpa.

that machete is precious is all.  Thank you for letting me take it for a spin.  If you ever-“

Vovo gives him a dirty look,

Cassandro tries to offer a peace treaty,

“…  some baklava vovo??”

Vovo Tuira shook her head annoyed at Cassandro; no.

“Well alrighty then, more for me and Bander here”, Cassandro taps Bander’s shoulder, who is still immobile in place.

Vovo Tuira put herself back at ease.  She sheathed her machete and got to sipping her fruit cocktail while looking down on Bander from her corner chair, attentive.

Cassandro opened the pretty box unceremoniously, took out the baklava and broke it in half over the plate.

He slides the slightly larger piece with plate included towards Bander,

“You’re welcome to enjoy your share at any time, i heard good things about chef ‘berto…”

Cassandro stayed standing and ate his half out of a napkin, enjoying loudly,

“hmf…     …that’s got; uuf, that’s amazing, this is different, unique;  I never had a rapadura highlighted baklava before.”

Mosa, thank you so much for this; you weren’t kidding, that chef’s got the sweetest teeth”

Cassandro sucks clean his three finger tips then wipes them on the napkin as he returns to Bander,

“Yo, this is good stuff here Bander.  You should relax.  Enjoy it.”

Bander is quietly choking on fear and snot in his seat and says nothing.

Mosa placed two glasses of water on the table for them.

Cassandro appreciates the gesture, then looks down disappointed at a silent Bander, tilting his head to the side, analyzing him.

[Silence.

Radio.

Low beeping noises]

“…Bander, please, nobody likes a rude guest.

Mosa did something nice for us just now and you failed to…

Sigh.  She chose to be considerate to us when she didn’t have to.

I insist you recognize and show appreciation to these kinds of moments when they present themselves.

Reciprocation goes a long way, so don’t be a jerk.

Now, how’s the water?”

Bander blew his nose on the shemagh, nervously drank half of his water thanks Cassandro and looked back to thank Mosa.

“thank you m’am.  thank you so much m’am, thank you for the handkerchief sir, i didn’t, *sniffles*, i was just-um.  Thank you i was thirsty”.

Cassandro eases himself onto the chair over next, leaning in on the table while speaking to Bander, ash tray positioned for more heavy use,

“Right.  Now.  Brass tacks.

First, let’s get you situated, let’s get you up to speed.

This place is another one of them disgusting Epstein islands out there.

That thing you see there on the bed found a niche selling and renting kids to guests,

Making herself extra comfortable off of human suffering. 
Behind the scenes, day in day out, for years…”

Cassandro points towards her bloody arm as he continues filling Bander in on the situation, 

“Her missing accessories are necessary to unlock a hidden vault in her room.

That demon there never thought there would be a ketchup day, can you believe that?”

Cassandro stares and nods angrily at the woman on the bed,

”   …fkn psycho put price tags on kids…

Children are people; -Children aren’t meat-, they ain’t objects, that’s never a debate, yet here we are somehow someway right?
  The wretched mindset behind someone like that and the countless cowards that allow this kind of reality…”

The woman is hooked up to some basic medical equipment, bloody tool tray at the foot of the bed.

There’s an anesthesia feed and a heart monitor with the beeps muffled.

“…Anyway, behind said vault is what we need to get serious about answering prayers…”

Mosa holds her breath in the background, face hard like a pallas athena bust while she continues to listen to Cassandro,

“…I’m sure you get it, it’s not rocket surgery. 

Bad guys rule the world, cowards follow their lead, everyone else has excuses for selling out their morals, and us outnumbered warrior peeps out here intervening with the little we got; cuz we refuse to abandon victims no matter the weather; any clime and place you know? 
So we gotta go god mode and do what we gotta do. 

This fool thought we wouldn’t show up, that she was safe in this world.
Thing is though, nothing can protect people like that from people like us.
That makes us heroes right?
You ever considered being a hero mate?”

Bander pushes himself to breathe, scared to be considered a bad guy in front of them.
Scared that he would be judged like the hotel owner was.  An abuser.

“…at ease Bander.  She’s alive there mate, she’s heavily sedated…   …but alive if that makes you feel any better.  No pain neither.  Just…    …neutralized af”

Cassandro remains fixated on the woman and mumbles audibly in and out,

“…so much pain, so many unanswered prayers…

…In this particular case, they took a juggernaut’s baby.

So long as you aren’t part of this, you’re not the target. 

So chillax there bud.

As far as we know, you’re just some silly rando with deep pockets right?”

Bander is immobile in his chair, he doesn’t blink as he balances listening attentively while mind-racing.

He captures Cassandro’s voice in the air next to him and tries holding onto everything.

He can’t look away from the bedroom centerpiece of blood, bandages, and crude surgical tools surrounding the body.

Cassandro continues the tour,

“So Bander, that monster goes by Karla Homolka as one of her names.

Pyschologist.  Vegetarian.  entrepreneur.  rapist.  murder.  convict.  trafficker.  scumbag…”

Bander cringes and tremors and feels nauseous.
He knew her as Ms. Martha.

Martha’s open mouth is drooling all over the white sferra giza sheets.

Panicky inside, Bander tries to self soothe, {say something, don’t let him think you’re involved in this sht!  fck!  wtf!  just shut the fck up. don’t say anything.  don’t wanna fkn die. He’s not hurting you.  He might let you go, he said stuff like that.  Be ready to fight, if he touches you punch him in the face and keep Mosa off of you when you go for the door.  Sht.  Gotta work the lock fast, then turn the knob counterclockwise.  COUNTERCLOCKWISE OPENS!? NO! CLOCKWISE OPENS!!??   WHICH THE FK IS IT?!  fkn focus, get yourself together, have to pay attention to his questions and intentions}

Cassandro was about to brag over his handi-work, “Now I ain’t no world renown surgeon, but all things considered, I do believe that was a qua-

<<<  Beep Beep  >>>

“Excuse me a moment.”

Cassandro whipped out a little yellow digi-mon pikachu tamagotchi thing and fed it it’s digital biscuit.

Then shaked it for a few seconds to recharge it’s battery before getting back into the convo.

“So!  Next question is, who is Bander?”

Bander stiffens up.

“I see Mosa brought you in.

You must’ve made her feel some sort of way for her to do that.

You some kind of somebody important or something?

You’ve never seen her before, am i right on that?”

Bander nods, “Yes sir”.

Cassandro scolds him, annoyed; “Dude, what kind of a person follows a total stranger alone to their room like that?
You don’t understand how trust, risk, and tricks work?…”

Bander nervously nods sideways.

Cassandro continues exploring the Bander narrative,

“…waltzing in here like that…
…It’s unhealthy to be making these kinds of mistakes…

…the indication is that there’s a massive silver spoon and platter hidden up your ass.

You’re a mess, but no worries, it’s a simple fix.
Just like any junky, we can detox you.

We just gotta get that money out your system, stat!

This will be a good thing, for sure.

The new you is going to be better than the old you Bander mah dude. 
Fresh perspectives and what not.
Think of it as a fun reset, a new prestige mode.

You familiar with mammon?”

Bander looking down shakes his head, “no sir”.

“Try to use them full sentences when speaking to me please”

“no sir, i, no sir i don’t know what mammon is”.

“Hold up son, gotta do a quick check-up”

Cassandro calls on radio.

< revisos y confirme, revisos y confirme   >

light radio static.

<< maçãs verdes, maçãs verdes, fin >>

Cassandro lights up another bidi and continues to engage Bander,

“I gotta question i like to ask schmucks like you, what does intelligence mean in your world?“

Bander nods for no reason.

Cassandro helps push things forward, “are you intelligent enough to answer that?”

Fumbling for an answer, Bander posits, “intelligence means…smartness and IQ scores…   …sir?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“answer sir, that’s my answer”

Cassandro shakes his head unimpressed, “Right…    …smartness and IQ scores…”

Bander is dumbfounded in anxiety, nervous that a wrong answer would be his last mistake, he feels as if something in the air is going to close in on him at any moment.

Cassandro continues probing Bander for perspectives and perceptions, “So that’s your limit on it…    …look, it’s easy as cake,  intellige-“

The door opens.

Pepe returns and hands Mosa back the key-card, goes to Cassandro in his seat and gives him a fancy travel bag with some papers and documents, then returns to squatting over his laptop screen. 

Pepe sets his new virtual over reality action camera neatly next to him and enjoys a Big Turk bar as he resumes his monitoring. 
Mosa puts the card back in the carbon fiber wallet she was holding and hands it over to Cassandro next to Bander.

{Sht, that’s my wallet, how did they…  my camera!  That kid was in my room, this is all my stuff!  Be calm, nobody is hurting you.  Be ready to negotiate them the 25 million that’s in the SEB Stockholm account, keep to that limit.  Everybody just wants money, they can’t get the money if they kill you. He is already talking about wanting money.  Be calm and carry on.  we can get out of this.  no way he’ll understand the paperwork}

Cassandro has been sorting and organizing Bander’s wallet and personal documents,

“No worries mate, glad to finally have some tangible materials on you here, i totally was running out of small talk anyway, so let’s get this intervention going on for you…     …alright so what do we have here…     …Canadian passport eh?…    …Early 20s.  travel stamps all over the place…    …wallet…     …receipts…   …licenses…   …plenty of cards…   …credit cards made out of metal not plastic…   …right…   …these biz meishi’s say…     …private armies only a phone call away…    …I see you got securitas, pinkerton & Co, and NWPA at the ready…       …Say word, this one is services for a body double?…   ….oh, never mind that when you got a card here offering cloning services…       …methuselah cryogenics co….      ….lifetime global pass to the Walt Disney kingdom for you and a crew of up to 300…     ….you take that hedonism is forever sht seriously guy…”

Cassandro moves from the wallet contents to the other documents. 
He reads and reviews while muttering out loud, scanning over the data, making side by side contrasts here and there.

 …oh, looky that.  Indications of private planes and yacht ownership shares under LLC’s, I see you are beyond having to deal with airports…    ….fk those shty airport experiences when you have the privilege to travel in style right dawg?…  …World is yours for the taking..    …involvement with different overseas companies…    …Right.  It’s not obvious here but you seem to have well over 6 other passports, plenty of diverse residencies and citizenships, who knows how many mini properties and condos, and…    …yeah, turnkey businesses from all over the place…     smart,  wage slaves everywhere at your fingertips…     …you can just up and go where you are treated best with no resistance…       …hmmm, them be impressive investing statements here but nothing remarkable…   …crazy how hard it is to tell you’re a whale, but that’s the point isn’t it?…        …it’s not what you have, it’s how you have it and how well you can hide how you got it,  and here you have….         ….yeah, just like the other ones, major ownership roles and virtually no obvious tie-ins and liability…         …you are really good at this discretion game mate, fk accountability when you’re rolling high with them equity and investor yokers out there eh?  On paper, you are totally rocking the greyman look…       …there could be a conglomerate under you and we’d be none the wiser…      …fkn smart, you must have one of em huge IQs or something…”   

Cassandro continues reviewing and admiring Banders personal paperwork.

{fk is this guy, the CRA?  The more he looks in there the more he learns from you.  Keep him away from your accounts.  Get his attention or something.  Distract him.  The more he learns, the less likely he will believe the 25 million limit you are preparing}

Bander blurts out, “sorry sir, I.  I didn’t understand.  The part of, -the part about intelligence sir?”

Cassandro slowly eases off reviewing the paperwork as he answers,

“Intelligence means you can solve problems.  The smarter you are, the bigger the problems you can solve.  That’s pretty much it. 
If a squirrel has the foresight to solve the problem of preparing for bad times ahead, and you can’t, then that would be concerning that you can’t nut up to the IQ of a squirrel.”

Cassandro adjusts his bum leg in his seat while Bander stays silent,

“Right now, both of our intelligences are being tested. 

My problem is finding out how much money you hiding and navigating you out of this situation you put yourself into, in one piece.

Your problem is getting back to that cushy lifestyle you love so much, the one where you don’t have to face consequences for your anti-social habits and bad decisions, in one piece…     …Am I right?”

Bander remains quiet, {please don’t make me answer that question}

“Bander, help me help you make this a win-win for everyone…  
…what’s intelligence again?”

“problem solving sir.”

“how do you measure it?

“the more complex the problem you solve, the smarter you are”

“Well check out the brain on Bander.  I don’t have any doubt’s that you be brilliant.
I’m confident we’ll be out this scene in no time.”

Cassandro smother’s another bidi into the ashtray.

{Fck sht.  He’s serious about looking for all of it, not just a payout.  They can’t possibly understand the value in the tangible assets and property rights and different ownership systems out there.   Can’t take everything if they don’t know what everything is.  keep the liquidity at 25 million}

Cassandro finishes up a few more records then extends his hand out and demands from Bander,

“your phone; now”.

{damn it, damn it!  don’t!   no no!  Okay, it’s okay, you’ve prepared for having your phone lost or stolen, it’s all hidden.  just give it up.  It’s a new phone, you paid the apple premium select diamond member subscription fee and it’s completely hack proof, he probably doesn’t know to work the GUI anyway. You’re good.  Don’t make them mad.  people are unpredictable and more dangerous mad.  He doesn’t care about you}

Bander reaches into his pocket and hands over his phone.

{relax.  he won’t find anything.  wrong password will lock it up enough times.  don’t get him angry.  Just be quiet, he will likely activate the auto-lock himself and give up.  they will have to let you go, they think they are heros.  He knows that you are not involved in this}

Cassandro looks at his worn out reflection on the phone’s black mirror and blows fresh smoke over the screen,

“That’s a fancy celly, a top trim tool like everything else you use right?  Look over here if you would”.

[brings the phone to Bander’s face and the phone unlocks itself]

{sht sht sht!}

“Alrighty then, let’s check out that media…     …places and things and food…     …plenty of selfies and smiles…      …so many damn selfies….    …touristy areas…      …. museum visits…     …cultural artifacts…    …luxury hotel views over poverty below…         …aaaaaand how unexpected…     
…selfies with high end cars🙄…   …. ah!  You’re an artists of sorts…      …paint and canvas as a medium…   ….artist theme of…    
…fruits on tableware and women posing on furniture?…      …not so subtle signatures…      …so basic…   …is that really it?….     “

Cassandro shakes his head, sorely disappointed,

“Gotta take a moment and let you know your art is sht by the way mate.  Objectively speaking of course.  Art is communication, it has to say something of value…      …and you don’t seem to be saying anything, at all, you’re shallow af, unworthy of attention…        …one sec; gotta verify this to see if anybody thinks different.  We are talking ’bout art, after all, art’s perception and perspective needs open discussion to be fair. 
…For all I know I’m reading you wrong and that would be a bad look…”

Cassandro gives Bander a break,

“Pepe, que mensaje es este?”  Pepe comes over to check it out, shakes his head, points at bander and motions with his hands that Bander is a jack-off.

Cassandro asks Pepe to help him out, Pepe takes the phone over to Vovo.

Vovo looks at it and shakes her head, gives Bander’s art a thumbs down. 

Pepe goes to show Mosa. 

Mosa takes the phone, swipes and scrolls for a minute quietly, then gives it back to pepe to return to Cassandro.

Mosa speaks up, “…women are to him like fruits, different textures he can pick out whenever he like.  Old painting style make feeling like he has lots of snob money.   He paint small oysters with the fruits to make painting erotic message, and the fancy napkins with gold renda is folded up lingerie if look closer.  He wants to be loud while hiding behind cliches…

…bad arte like all other psycho porcos…    
…Nothing maple-licious here.”

Cassandro listens and nods over Bander’s art pictures as he sees what Mosa is saying,

“That was…    a good fkn read.  Damn.  Hey Bander, did you get all that?  Is she wrong?  Did you have anything you wanted to say or add?”

Bander shakes his head defeated and remains quiet.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when your character is weak, your art reflects that weak sht. 
Mosa brings up a good point about you though, feels like i’m missing something here…     
[Cassandro scratches his chin] 
…Maple-licious eh, sounds like a made up name someone would give themselves, like Bander…       …alright, lets get back into this phone of yours here, see what else we can learn about you….     …check out these emails…     …multiple accounts and apps…       …now now, this is a little unexpected…       …you like extreme sports eh…    … well check you out…     …jumping out of airplanes, flying like a bird…    …that’s crazy…     …risky and crazy…      ….you clearly got that spark for it…      ….nice soundtrack you added there, scarface, nice touch.  impressive editing…      …strong familiarity with pop culture and augmented reality…     very fkn impressive….    …what’s this now?  a website?…     …you got a…    …merch store…   ..mugs and hats…    …bander t-shirts and you got Bander time® hoodies too bro?  whoah, look at you go…       …you advertize the high end tools and hobbies you enjoy…    …sales money as a prima facie cover up..   ….all this keeps you engaged, active, healthy, socially connected….    …privacy and adventure super important for you…     …makes sense why you chose greyman option over armed guards and paid security…        …more stock accounts…      …plenty of diversification; dividends flowing in from all over the place, we already know that…       …these ads look to be extra niche with you…          …hmmmm…     ….nah, that storage space doesn’t add up right…     …what’s this…         …here we go…    …some kind of secret app out here…     ….eenie meenie miney…   …allrighty then…      …this bingo lingo app, makes sense for a globetrotter like you….      ….language lessons folder- between Croatian and Cuyonon…    ….cunninglinguist ain’t no language I ever heard of…”

Cassandro looks at Bander while pointing down at the phone, “this one looks to be a little off mate….     …me thinks it’s a vault…”

{Fkn phone, sht sht stupid fkn phone!  How the fck did he find it!}

Cassandro passes Bander the phone, “Unlock here if you would”

{don’t do it!  Don’t fkn do it!}
Bander looks away in a moment of defiance.

Cassandro is notably getting annoyed, “It’s asking for a code along with one of 20 possible fingerprints, and that visage of yours for access. 
Personally, I don’t think it’s a good idea to put your body parts on the line like this.”

Cassandro looks over to Vovo and addresses her, “Oe, vovo, think i can use the machete again to paint a picture for our mister artista over here?”
Vovo Tuira nods at Cassandro and readies up the machete for another statement.

{just do it.  don’t test them, just fkn do it!}

Bander unlocks the discreet bingo lingo app vault for Cassandro on the double.

Cassandro approves, “That’s a good sport, let’s see here…     …a Bander time folder eh?  whatever could that…      …oh.  of course…      …you record your intimate experiences…      …here’s all that power tripping and different textures Mosa was talking about…      ….yup, it’s all here…      …people like you, urgh…     …money only works when it is looting poverty…     …just like how you solve all your other problems, you can only get what you want by being abusive…       ….poor women, they really don’t give af about you but options is not something they have a lot of…     …and there it is, you hit this one even harder, you are exploring harm and pleasure combos…        …and there it is again…      …and in this video…     …it just get’s worse and worse the more comfortable you get eh?”

Cassandro orders Bander to look at the phone as he holds it over the table for him,

“Look here Bander.  Look at yourself. 

That wasn’t a playful slap son; just a bully forcing himself, testing the wrong limits.  Where do you think this kind of path leads to?…        ….urgh, I spoke to soon.  Look at you here Bander, you found one that let you.  You slapped her face and fkn spit on her.  Fish hooking her mouth, fk is that about you freak? Look at you now;  you wanted to try this.  You paid for this.  The money didn’t mean sht to you, but it meant a lot for them, that’s a fkd up exchange.  This is the world you like Bander?  You accept this?  How do you live doing things to others you wouldn’t like done to yourself or your loved ones?  [Cassandro shows him another more violent and humiliating act done on another woman]  Any idea what that is doing to your psyche?…   …Any idea what that does to HER psyche?…      

 …[sighs]  No one should have to tell you this son, it’s evil to objectify others, there’s never an excuse for that…     … this is sad to watch…      …those poor women just trying to survive out there in a world ran by sad sacks like you…      …you’ve been a monster for a while now…      …Mosa saw it clear as day and pepe was also right about you ya fkn tosser…”

Cassandro looks Bander with tired eyes that have seen and dealt with lots of people; he’s measuring him, contemplating his fate, “…at this point, it stands to reason you’re worth more dead than alive.  You’re a predator, people are objects to you, you enjoy pain and humiliation at other’s expense.  You have the same brain rot as that freak on the bed right now so i’d be doing the world another favor…”

Bander feels the weight of his situation crushing him.
There’s no question that Cassandro is serious about murdering him after seeing those videos, and his end is very much near.

{They are going to kill me.  can’t believe me filming those fkn sluts are going to get me killed.  should i fight…    …i can’t fkn move…    …i don’t want to die}

Mosa leans in on Bander’s backchair, looking over at the Bander time content playing in Cassandro’s hand, shaking her head with disgust and empathy, and looks over to vovo and confirms it, they both look down at Bander and shake their heads at him like he ain’t sht.

Mosa speaks to Cassandro, “Por favor, faça com que ele entregue as informações, depois eu me livro dele”.

Cassandro remained looking around the bander time folder in disgust and replies in his improvised broken portuguese spanish mix, “En mais grande el mammon, mais difficil…”

Cassandro interrupts himself, “…hmmm.  wait.  Hold on please Mosa…       …just when you think you’ve seen everything…    …oe Bander, you hid a business plan here of all places, what are you so nervous about….     …oh?  Well this is something indeed…    …different…  …you wanted to take on the Olympics in some kind of way…        …nice, nice…    …the implications if you can pull it off…     …you were working on a legacy here…    …now this is art, warrior art…    …was this one of dem preppy school projects?”

Bander speaks over his shock, exposure and defeat, “yes sir.”.

Cassandro presses on, “did you submit this?”

“another one”

“what was the other one about?”

“Thesis on 3D printed chocolate under porter’s 5 forces sir”

Cassandro nods in his seat, carefull with all the paperwork around him, and lights himself another bidi as he summarizes,

“You work hard at being an off-radar opportunistic little psycho…        …if redemption and altruism is something a sad sack piece of sht like you can appreciate, i would highly encourage you to work that angle.  That’s of course, if you got the IQ to make it out of here in one piece…”
[Cassandro quickly reviews other parts of the phone and web history before wrapping up]. 

…finishing up here…   …I noted that you are tied to that Canadian Maple industry in some big way…       …and potash…      …there’s so much potential with all that influence…   …Ha!  Nice, you like to watch battle rap vids also…       ….Pat Stay eh?  Yeah, that’s quite the character you hit the follow button on…”

Cassandro rests the phone on the table, 

“Bander, at your class level, it’s a prohibitive maze of zealot terms like limited liability, trust shares, ownership percentages, investor anonymity, tangible assets, debt leveraging, determining the insurance of the insurance that is insuring the liquidity of the secondary insurance, etcetera etcetera.”

Cassandro moves his good hand over his injured hand, adjusting the 6 intricate golden crosses hanging on his thin black bracelet while he reflects,

“Can’t just pocket check something with so many barriers and find that total net worth in one click…”

Cassandro stuffs the paperwork back in Bander’s expensive backback,

…I know this sounds crazy son, but i hate being lied to.
Don’t be like the many other smeagol’s before you.

We can totally do this the easy way and avoid drama. 
i just need you to tell me what your total economic worth is.

Hey Bander, how much money do you have?”

Bander nervously replies, “umm.   20.  25 million is my net-worth sir. 
You can have all of it.  I can wire you the money anywhere you want, and then, if you let me go I can-“

“Is that so?  You didn’t hear anything i said just now did you.”

“I.   I’m listening sir, …   …that’s my worth sir?”

Cassandro nods, looking frustrated,

“Right then; that was the wrong answer.

You’re being disrespectful to my time and prosocial goals here Bander my dude.

I’m going to be a big person and let that slide in a show of good will. 

you may need a moment is all…”

Cassandro reflects on his own life story for a moment, calming himself down, giving both of them time to breathe and think.

“…Hey Bander… 
Imagine a bloody wash rinse repeat cycle but it’s never clean.  It stresses me out mate. 

Can you believe that?  The insanity of it all?…”

Cassandro drinks a bit of his water as he plots trying a long way rather than a hard way solution with his guest,

“Maybe i’m going about this wrong.  Let’s try a different approach with you…”

Cassandro stands up from his seat next to Bander. 

Does a small stretch, shakes his hand and a half out, and adjusts his left leg to a better position,

“You know what’s good for a good life Bander my good friend?  Protecting it. You know what helps protect it?  Actual guns. 
You like guns Bander?  I could have sworn I saw a thumbnail with you shootin’ targets and stuff. 
You like-eh the powah eh mate?”

Cassandro begins an animated pitch in front of Bander’s personal space,

“You ever heard, the expression, best die on your feet than live on your knees?”

Bander is feeling an ominous weight shift around with Cassandro in front of him and replies,
“Y-Yes sir”

Cassandro seems to be negotiating a rage inside of him while being earnest,
“Tierra o muerte is another oldie and a goodie. 

Quality lines like those can only be backed up with legit hardware.  You can’t just go out there alone, that’s dangerous! 
You need something accessible and close by for your travels that you can count on to stand up for you, you know?
Something with a kick-back.  You dig that?“

Bander nods nervously not knowing what he is agreeing to.

Cassandro whips a revolver out from his shoulder strap and presents it with dramatic flare to Bander,

“you see, this thing right here, is the epitome of art friend;
a priceless piece of timeless communication. 
You show up with this and even a caveman knows the lingo and will hear you out. 
So much to love here.  
It feels good in the hand, [Cassandro does a cool cowboy twirl with it], it’s well balanced throughout, and when you hold it, it feels right.   
Art is connection Bander, it’s a heart to heart moment.  And this kind of art helps bring out that full moon monkey sayan warrior in you. 
Can’t trust money dawg, so this piece right here is all about that loyalty over money.
She even has a girl’s name and no feelings to worry about, just like you like ’em right?”

Cassandro pops open the revolver, drops rounds in Bander’s hands then locks it back up empty,
“Quick flick of the wrist and voila, cylinder is closed”

Cassandro insists on a scared and clueless Bander to appreciate the gun,

“And just look at the choice materials, the deliberation in design. 
The screwed in wood grips on that solid block metal framing, that’s called craftsmanship. 
Function and form isn’t compromised in the least, that’s called having your priorities straight.”

Cassandro takes a marketing pause, “…Now I’m sure you’re asking yourself, what’s her name?
[Cassandro smiles, self amused] 

{i don’t want sht from this creep, i don’t care about it’s name.  it looks like he is forcing me to give up all my money for this gun of his.  wtf, why is he doing all this?}

Well get this mate, she’s called;

Le’ Nafta.

Sexy eh?…”

Cassandro energetically opens Bander’s other too-scared-to-resist hand and slaps the pistol onto his palm,

“Yeah!  You feel that heft there Bander? Heavy is good, heavy is quality.  It helps with recoil.  Nobody likes recoil. 
You feel it bringing out the real you in you yet?  What’s that say right there?”

Bander looks down stunned, not even knowing where to start looking.

Cassandro guides him to it, “right there, on the back of the grip”

“z- Zapata sir”

“You MF right turkey. 
That piece was married to a somebody out there, so that’s no ordinary piece. 
She’s got context, significance, purpose…   …her role in the struggle timeline makes her historically unique, like that machete vovo has over there;
so suffice it to say friend, la Le’ Nafta ain’t like all them other girls out there…”

Cassandro has a moment, looks at le’ Nafta with a soft expression as she rests on Bander’s hand…
…then snaps back to business, 
“…Sooooooo whatsup, you like it?”

“I. I don’t know sir”

Cassandro steps back aghast,
“I don’t understand. 
Is there something wrong with it? 
Is 6 slots not enough?  Is 7 inches too much? 
Or perhaps the color or age is not to your liking mate?”

“i’m scared sir.  I don’-“

Light knocks on door interrupts Cassandro’s barter scene.

{That could be security or something!  A rescue team!  Get ready to hit the deck and spread your hands.  You won’t be rescued if you have a weapon, get ready to chuck this weapon.  You can get killed by your rescuers if you have anything in your hands. 
Make it easy for them to rescue you and be safe!  Come on, come on be somebody out there, help me! fkn save me!}

Mosa opens up, smiles wide and happily receives a closed bag stacked with food in to-go plates, “ola querido…    …Sim….    Ah!  Muito obrigada chef ‘Berto.  Oh! …ostras com limão-finger, muito elegante, eu nunca aproveitei isso antes…    …três tortas, que legal!…    …sim, okay, adeus, mua mua.”  She closes the door.

Cassandro alerts Mosa quickly with a happy expression on him, “Oe!  Mosa, ‘spera!  Tell him that the Baklava was muito bom bom!  I’ll never forget it!”

Mosa opened back up and hollered at Chef ‘Berto his quick shout-out down the hall, concluding the interruption.

Cassandro gets back to focusing on Bander, with a not so happy expression on him, “okay now where were we…   ….right…  You were talking about being scared and sht with a gun in your hand…

…i just don’t understand people like you…     …when you’re strapped, what’s there to be afraid of mate?”

Mosa gives a small whistle, looks sternly at Cassandro and gestures him to the mutilated woman on the bloody bed. 
“Thanks Mosa, almost forgot about that thing there”

Cassandro shuts off Martha’s iv feed, then moves to aggressively close the Bander sale,

“Time’s up Bander,
We can solve this the easy way or the hard way,
the choice is yours.

Knowing that I am extremely adverse to lies, and that I want it all. 
How much money did you trade for le’ Nafta?”

{fck fck fck.  Don’t fkn change your answer, keep it at 25 million tops.  That’s the easy way.  That has to be enough, they can’t know you have more}

“25 million sir.”

Cassandro preps himself, about to go ham on Bander, 

“ I see then.  

You chose the hard way…

…I hate it when i have to deal with this ignant side of people; fkn money games and money arguments and sht. 
all this hosting and selling charades i did to keep you alive, all for nothing now…”

Cassandro slips out a hand-cannon revolver from between his butt-cheeks,
opens the action to show a conspicuous large red slug in a chamber, roulettes the cylinder and snaps it back with style and violently jams it inside Bander’s closed mouth while pinning him down with his knee and bodyweight, getting to yelling and spitting up in his face;
“CAN’T STAND YOUR KIND! THIS ISN’T A HARD QUESTION MF!  YOU SHT!  YOU ARE COMING BETWEEN ME AND PRAYERS THAT NEED US TO HURRY IT THE FK UP!!!   YOU KNOW HOW THESE FK FK GAMES PLAY OUT MF!  KEEP FKN AROUND!  I PROTECT YOU FROM YOUR OWN FK UPS.  AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET YOU BIGOT SMEAGOL PSYCHO MF YOU!!!”

Cassandro cocks the gun while still up in there, Bander yells incoherently from the side of his mouth, “50 MILLION SIR!!!”

Cassandro continues forcing Bander’s head by his hair “I CAN’T! BELIEVE! YOUR AUDACITY!
RUN YOUR SHT! RUN YOUR SHT RIGHT THE FK NOW!!!
Bander’s lips, teeth and gums are getting tore up by the steel muzzle.

Bander sideways cries, “800 MILLION”. 
Cassandro only gets angrier, “FK THAT!  YOU DID IT AGAIN!!!

Cassandro let’s off Bander’s mouth and hair, slaps him hard across the face, then grabs him by the hair again, shaking him even more violently.

Bander clutches tight le’ Nafta and rounds in his hands, squirming in pain.

  Cassandro exclaims “THERE IT IS!” as he forces Bander’s face downwards to see the red round coming up next in the boom line as he jams the gun painfully into Bander’s crotch. 

LAST CHANCE TO NUT UP YOU NO IQ SQUIRREL MFKR YOU!

THREE!!!

TWO!!

ONE!

The weapon goes *CLICK**CLICK**CLICK**CLICK* while Bander shouts out-

“BILLIONS SIR BILLIONS SIR, 7 BILLIONS SIR. 7 BILLION!  I SWEAR, I SWEAR, IT’S ALL I GOT.  PLEASE DON’T SHOOT MY DK OFF!  PLEASE DON’T KILL ME PLEASE DON’T HURT ME I JUST WANT TO LIVE.  I DON’T NEED THE MONEY.   I WON’T DO OR SAY ANY- “

Cassandro snaps off of him immediately and forces himself back into character,

“SHUT THE FK UP CODFISH!   Just…

…Relax…    …we have the answers we need…”

Cassandro looks at Mosa, then back to Bander.
Bander is crying in his chair.

Cassandro shakes his head speaking down on Bander, “…it’s always a huge mindfck when people money themselves right?… “

Cassandro takes a big breath of air, ready to de-escalate further,
    “…Anyway, check this out Bander.  I’m a proud gun owner like you also.
Now, this revolver ain’t no Le’ Nafta, but still something worth talking about. 
I’m excited to take this opportunity and bring this up.

Look at this Bander, Cassandro loads his revolver up with different 12 gauge shell colors and types from his pocket, spins and locks it up with finesse and points it at Bander’s chest and starts clicking away at it again. *CLICK**CLICK**CLICK* Bander feels his soul splash the floor again and cries some more. 

Cassandro looks away annoyed, “Its alright, let it all out there asshole. 
Do us all a favor and hurry it up though; you’ll have to excuse me if we can’t relate to whatever it is you are going through…”

Cassandro sadly returns his hand-cannon back to his ass-crack while still standing over Bander,

“…I should be the one upset right now…    my sharktank pitch is going nowhere…
…Just wanted to show you how the cock-block plate on my sawed-off revolver worked…
…and the oobleck recoil absorbing chamber…
…go over that return on investment…
…Anyway, you chose the hardway ya affluenza loving fck head”

Cassandro takes out a small bag from his pocket and prepares a joint over the table.  

“Did you want a hit mate?  Goes good with that baklava that’s still waiting on ya;

Don’t let it go to waste now.  Small things like that matter”

Bander shakes his head no as he tries and struggles to calm down from his crying, making ugly frog face with injuries around his mouth and a nose bleed.
He appreciates the pistol and rounds in his hands, reckoning a small level of comfort somehow.

Cassandro lights up and adjusts himself back into the chair next to Bander, relaxing best he can, nurses his lame foot, starts giving Bander a different kind of attention,

“…a fkn billionaire.  there’s only like, 2 to 3 thousand of you chameleon fks out there…      …needles in haystacks of over 7 billion people…  …the math and probabilities behind that are beyond me….   …never thought i would meet one in person…   …there’s new openings here…      …shts gone next level…”

Cassandro drinks some more water and puffs a few more hits, thoughts heavy.

Nobody says anything, only person not paying attention is Pepe sitting at the monitor taking princess bites off his trophy snack.

Bander blows his nose on the shimagh.  Feels ashamed.  Vulnerable. 
Relieved to still be alive after all that. 
Feels like whatever is going on, live or die, it will be over soon. 
His big secrets are out and over with.  He’s not trying to hide anything anymore.

He recalls his last sky jump, and settles with a background thought that it was his last.

Cassandro brings his own thoughts up,

“…I have so many questions.  You have to understand Bander, you’re not my target.  We were born in this world, we didn’t make it. 
We were shaped by things bigger than us. 

Those things that shape us, that’s my target. 

You and I, come from opposite ends in this power trip. 

You’ve been riding the waves while I’ve been trying to keep my head above water…

…So this is contrast, that’s art, this is a big moment for us.  Here we are…  
So what do we say to each other?  I never thought about it…”

Bander cautiously places le’ Nafta on the table. 
He blew his nose some more before working up the courage and clarity to speak up.

“I, I don’t know sir.  I don’t know what to say right now…  …umm.  Did.  Does your revolver have a name?”

Cassandro nods at the question and replies,

“Chekhov”

silence.

radio noises in the background.

Low beeping noises.

Cassandro follows up awkwardly, “ …Hey Bander, were you really born in Canada like the docs suggest?”

“yes sir”

“you changed your name to Bander at some point?”

“Yes sir”

“Right on…     …You know that canadian show, hey Arthur?   goofy little aardvark, lives in some weird make believe society and everyone gets along so long as they play a role?”

“yes.  yes sir.  it’s a good show sir.”

Cassandro nods his head and drifts off a bit, “word…   word.  It’s a good fkn show…”.

{Do something, say something, show him something, anything. Keep this talk going.  Don’t fkn lie to him.  Show interest.  He’s chill right now.  He likes Arthur and battle rhymes and sht.  Use that.  Keep him cool, try to see where this goes, they might negotiate with you on splitting money and let you walk away.  He would have killed you by now if he wanted you dead}

Bander presents, “…do you know…    …chance the rapper sir?”

“I’ve heard of him!”, Cassandro sits up and smiles amused,
“what’s up!?  tell me about him, what brought him to mind there friend?”

“he…   …he did a hey arthur cover with a night show host, can’t rem…”

Cassandro passes Bander his phone with a quickness, “Look it up for us.  I mean, please.  Please show this clip for us.”

{Sht sht what’s that guy called.  fck are you doing, just type arthur and chance and that should do it.  These fkn ads.  There it is!

Is he going to take the phone back?  Hold the phone while you show him, play dumb}

“This is it sir.”, Bander holds the phone up so they both can see.

Cassandro is entertained, “well would you look at that, you weren’t kidding”.

Cassandro takes the phone back and watches the music video, allowing Bander to view as well.

“haha!  look at ’em go.  Looks like they having a good time in that cute world they created for themselves…”

Everyone could hear the song.

Cassandro replayed it several times before concluding, “…that’s a gangsta move he did.  That’s how you pass on the message, good one Bander”

Bander follows up, “…message…     …sir?”

Cassandro breaks it down for him, “Game recognize game son, and this here is warrior art through a music medium, a popular choice much like painting.  Only thing keeping psychos like you at bay are messages like this one and the characters that come from it.

Good messages are like seeds, once they are in place your perspectives start to change, and you start seeing things differently and for what they are.
…And when you start seeing things for what they are, you get that boost in being able to solve real problems, big problems, global problems. 

The stronger the artist, the stronger the message delivery and impact. 
Big artists equals big legacies.

Cassandro looks up, inspired, takes another tote from his joint,
“We compete on this sht yo. 
Warrior art is the real deal; the kind that alters moods and talks to you, may even load a gun for you and cock it too. 
And we be seeing who can push this the furthest.  We be seeing which one of us is finally going to change the world for the better since we can’t just meet up all willy nilly, not with all the predators and hell-fire missiles out there didn’t you know?
It sucks having to be loud while tip-toeing around. 

If you haven’t gathered yet, i’m something of an artist myself.”

Cassandro smirks, gives Bander a friendly nudge and looks over to Mosa before getting back to the topic,

“This whole song is an instruction on how to live a good life.  It’s perfect directions.  Chance saw that, his message is;”

Cassandro makes eye contact with Bander, 

“best to die on your feet, than live on your knees.

sounds familiar there mate?”

“Yes sir, the message is familiar sir.  I get it”

Cassandro checks the time on his pikachu egg, gets back up and asks Pepe to secure Bander’s phone in the backpack.

Cassandro gets close, reaches out and touches Banders face. 
Smells of soap, smoke and iron…  Bander didn’t move, didn’t know what to do.

“You almost got shrugged off today as another whatever moment…

Can you even imagine that lame ass headstone, your legacy?
  Here lies Bander, woman abuser and his art was whack.
 Is that the great story you wanted to leave behind?”

[Cassandro chills as if he felt something coming in the air]

Cassandro gives Bander some space and an order, “Put your weapon away kid.”

Bander does as told and put’s the shooter and rounds in his pocket where his phone used to be.

radio noise.

<< Leoa Leoa >>

Mosa looks over to Cassandro who is already on the radio.

< envie isso >

<< Conseguimos recuperar apenas três meses de informações.
Sem nomes. Muito poucas fotos >>

Mosa lets out a small yelp and backs up and paces herself , trying to hold back the pain she is feeling. 
Walking in place, clutching her fists, hard as river rocks.

Cassandro answers to the radio,
< mensaje recivido mensaje recivido.  La busca continua.  Ninguem fica pra tras >

Vovo and pepe get up and go to console Mosa.  Mosa held their hands, they hug and support her.  
She took deep breaths and gets her bearings back.

Mosa looks to Cassandro, eyes watery and red. 
Cassandro nods and concludes with Bander,

“Bander buddy, i hope someday to hear great things about you. Anything I can do Bander can do better right?  
Try taking me on if you bored and got nothing else to do then chump; can’t go wrong with that.  

The video you shared, thanks man, I didn’t even know that I needed that pick-me-upper. 

If you’ll excuse me, I gotta go get back to this fight. 
There’s still prayers out there.

Stay frosty out here, aiight?  We cool?  Cool then, I’m out”

Cassandro gave Bander a few pats, squeezed his shoulder and let go.

He was stepping away from him but stopped himself abruptly,

“oh, yeah.  Sorry mate.  Can’t stand liars and seeing things go to waste.  I have a feeling you’re not going to be enjoying this after all.”

Cassandro napkins the other half of the baklava and stuffs it into his now empty holster.

He limps into the room entrance space and connects with Mosa, who quickly asks,

“É sobre bilhões? Isso muda algo?”

Cassandro fills her in on the significance, ”   …oh si…     …muito.  muito muito.  Muito mas poder…    …muito mas riesgo…  …. mas é mais provável encontrá-lo…   …muito mas valioso este tolo porra vivo y supervisado….      …y mas quei nunca, voce necessita La Pulpa pra resolver eise rompe cabesas…”

“Você tem certeza de que não pode me ajudar mais?”

Cassandro assures,
“Fue lo mejor que eo puedo ofrecer.

Este e o limite de mis talentos.

Eu tenho fé no seu amor e na sua resolução.”

Mosa hugs Cassandro and thanks him, 

“muito muito muito obrigada”

[she squeezes his hands and 8 fingers]

Cassandro reciprocates,

“I only wish I could do more”.

Cassandro lets go and looks at her.

Mosa looks right back.

She forces a small smile over her void and despair, “lo quieres ver eh?”

Cassandro humbly smiles back,  “por favore?”

Mosa mutters and shakes her head, “homens néscios…” as she opens up her purse. 
Takes her 1911 out and asks pepe to hold it for a moment and to be careful about it as it’s condition 2. 
Pepe cautiously holds it properly, ready to give back.

Cassandro looks into the purse…    …and stays looking…    …admiring…

He whispers, “…it’s Fkn art…

…Can I, I mean, May I?…”

Mosa rolls her eyes and gives him the grey pestle from her purse.

Cassandro holds it.  Touches it.  Feels it’s weight.  hit’s his knuckle with it and winces.

“Heavy granite ole…   unpolished, heavy is good, heavy is quality…  …amazing…”

Cassandro stays admiring.

Mosa snaps twice and brings him back, “Tempo é luxo, temos coisas a fazer.”

Cassandro snapped back to reality and agrees, “time is luxury, we gots sht to do”

Cassandro hands the pestle back, offers vovo his good arm to escort her out and vovo wraps around him lightly like a bigfeather, with a holstered machete.

Mosa keeps the pestle in hand and puts her gun back in the clutch and to the side.

Pepe runs around, picks up his radio and new action camera, backpacks the laptop, stuffs the rest of the choco-bar in his mouth, took Bander’s travel and food delivery bags, and closed the door on his way out.

Mosa and Bander are left alone in the room.

Bander sits anxiously in his chair.

silence.

Radio noises.

Muffled beeps.

{THIS IS IT!  if you can load the gun you can shoot her and run out.  should have loaded it while they were hugging and talking and sht, and will the gun even work?  is this even a real gun. Forget about the fkn gun.  Club her with it, it feels heavy enough. They don’t know how fast you can run.  It’s just her, stall for a moment, hit her or something and run the fck out.  Gotta get the fck out here. No way she’ll risk shooting in the hallways or outside.  Just gotta get past that damn doorknob.  Get ready for it. Time it just right.  She’s just standing there thinking about sht.  It’s now or never}

Bander stands up slowly and non-threateningly.

He puts his hands up and begins to speak.

“look, i’m so sorry.  If i can just-*#%*“

Mosa stepped into him fast and delivered a pestle liver shot that knocked the gun, rounds, and pocket lint off him.

He dropped to the floor like a curled up hedgehog, couldn’t breathe, he was locked up from the worst pain he had ever experienced.

She dug her stiletto heel onto bander’s ribs as she calmly separated him from his shooter, then stepped off while commanding him,

“Pick up rounds.  Get up.  Give them to me.”

“I can’t….    Breathe…  I….”, Bander is flush red and stuck in the fetal position.

“Take deep breathes, it helps with deep pain.  hurry up.  get up.  If you don’t get up, i make you get up. 
We do this easy way or hardway, you pick one.”

Bander takes deep breathes.  Dazed.  Does all he can to get up.

{GET THE FK UP. not the fkn hard way.  NOT THE FKN HARD WAY, GET THE FK UP!}

He makes it to his knees.  Picks up the rounds.  Finds himself somewhat on his feet.
Painstakingly delivers on her commands.

Mosa continues to order him around,

“Now grab its legs.  Hold them!”

Bander obediently holds Martha’s wrinkled legs down.

Mosa straddles over the woman’s arm and chest on the bed, holds the monster’s chin up in a death grip, and gets to business,

 “Look at me!  look here psycho!  LOOK AT ME NOW!”   Mosa is pulling chunks of the woman’s hair out, waking her up from her anesthesia nap.

The woman looks at her, one eye wide open.  Struggled moaning sounds coming out. 

Mosa is crushing the woman’s in her grip and stare, trying to hold back her own tears. 
All Mosa see’s is red and her hatred paints the room.

“You see me!?  I just want a life for my baby!  my baby boy!   he’s out there!  All alone! nobody else coming…     …I HAVE TO SAVE HIM! 
his life! Not going to be like that life.  he WILL grow and have a good life!
I’M GOING TO DO; WHAT I HAVE TO DO!!!”

Mosa is already working the target’s face and yells back, “BANDER! ARE YOU HEAR ME!!!???”

Bander cries out YES M’AM in terror and helplessness, taking kicks while holding the creature’s legs as Mosa takes the granite pestle around it’s mouth; lightly tapping and smashing the lips and teeth and gums in together.  It gags and started choking on it’s own blood and tooth-chippings while it’s arm in a bandaged stub helplessly flails about.

Mosa kept going, focused, holding the jaw like a bowl firmly in place as she worked, blood geysers spouting in the air from the bed horror’s desperate attempts to breathe.

Bander keeps holding on and getting kicked while doing it.  Too petrified to let go without permission.

The half alive thing is making labored zombie wailing noises on the bed…

…Mosa gets off the body.

She offers Bander the bloody pestle and stares him down, daring him to try something outside of her immediate expectations,
“When I say one; you break them, or I break you!”

“THREE”

“TWO”

Bander grabbed the pestle immediately and started clubbing at Martha’s leg-shins, crying, terrified, disgusted; kicked, splashed, confused. he could feel his mind shutting down. His logic and reason now skips to Mosa’s lou as he’s fully indoctrinated into the world of ultra violence.

{Everything will be fine if you do as told.  Do as your told, and you won’t be hurt.  Do as your told, and you won’t be hurt.  If you do something that is not what you are told you will get hurt. I can’t believe what i’m…  …this is so wrong.  So wrong.  Do it. DO IT! Just do it. don’t think about it!

[The legs are now looking like bloody marshmallows hanging on thin-sticks, with bits of bone poking out and every whack sending blood paste flying every which way.  The legs aren’t moving anymore] 

this is hurting her.  This is hurting me. This isn’t right. This isn’t you.. You don’t have to do this…  stop give it back.  can’t stop. have to do this.  It’s either Martha or you.  Survive this.  This is what it takes to survive.  Do as your told.  Survival.  Survive.  survive.  Obey.  submit. survive.  SURV-}

Bander received a downward slap so hard he thought the deck gave him an uppercut.
He found himself body planted on the floor again, writhing in pain.

Mosa is above him infuriated, “I say STOP-GIVE-BACK!  I do not like repeat myself. 
When it not listens, it get’s the heel!”

She dug her stilettos into a squirmy wormy Bander for a second time as she took her pestle back, wiping off the excess blood and bone bits on his face cheeks and rico suave shirt.

She then grabs Banders arm.  Hard. 
Forces him up on his feet like a child, he feels his triceps being pinched and crippled as he is being walked around. 
He squeels as she brings him to the hotel window.   He is starting to see stars and he throws up away from her.   
There was blood in it and he feels light headiness and shock creeping in, angering the Mosa.

“Disgusting covarde psycho porco!”

Mosa orders him to use the inside of his shirt and he wipes himself right away.

She radios in.

<  Lar doce lar, luzes acesas.  Lar doce lar, luzes acesas >

On the hill by the cell signal tower, from the pavela in the distance, there’s three flashes.

Mosa instructs him, “That place is your new place now.

You stay alive.  You stay alive in districto nueve, understand?

You understand!?”

It hurts Bander to sob and speak, his voice comes through high-pitched squeeks “yes… .Yes m’am.  yes m’am.  i won’t leave it.  I won’t leave the district. please don’t hit me anymore please…”

Mosa threatens, “i have to go.  I do not know when coming back. 
you try to leave, I will know, I will come and cut your face, and sell your body things.  Extra kidney.  Extra lung.  Extra meat. 
Whatever left alive, cut up more and feed the street dogs…”

Mosa tries to hold back her rage and tears and stay collected and keep herself from destroying him with her bare hands.

“…I don’t care about you.  You are nobody.  I only care about my baby. I have to, have to find my baby…”

Mosa checks the radio to see if it’s clear to use the north wing exit.

Mosa gets the all clear.  She then radios into team D that the product in her room is ready for organ extraction and clean up. 
Mosa gets her stuff and the shemagh Cassandro had left for Bander.  She strong arms Bander out the room. 

While moving she vents and stiffles her desperate tears,

“Não sei o que fazer, não sei o que fazer.  Onde. Onde devo procurar!?”

Mosa escorts bander down the stairwell, out the door and into a light tropical evening rain.

Outside, she throws him onto the streets and yells him away,

“You go now.  Go now!  I hate you psychos!  YOU GO AWAY NOW!
[she whips out the 1911 as bander scrambles up to run away with his severely damaged body] 
GO FASTER!”

Bander does his outmost.  He feels broken glass everywhere inside of him. 
He has been working past his limits since she busted his liver. 
Fear, and the will to fight another day keeps him on his feet and somewhat conscious.

{FKN RUN!  YOU ARE FINALLY OUT!  Get some distance from her.

Get the hell away from here!  Hurry the fk up.  You did it, you are outside.  No way will she shoot you out here, there’s people-}

Two gun blasts rang out and blew a chunk out the stop sign in front of him as he dashed past it.

He swore he felt a bullet whiz cut his ear.

The few people outside in umbrellas scattered out immediately.

Bander shits himself as he runs as fast as he can under the rain and into the Brasilia Favela.