ARCH 3 CHPT 1

“…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 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 short clips coming your way soon foolz so stick around and find out as we got some killer views incomiiiiiiing!  

I finally caught some AR vids on my new gopro i357 loaded lux 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 workers zooming by here and there, moving stuff around looking busy, serving the clientele.

{This place is the sht, what a good find.  Heard they opened a Tim Hortons nearby a few blocks up.  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, 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 mountains.  They understand real innovation here and how adding value and convenience to the customer is paramount.  They got that down to even to the littlest nuances and creature comforts.  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, the meat is banging, this area is safe, the plebs are extra docile and structured, and I can just load up and go wing-suiting anytime.  It’s totes cozy af}

Bander made himself comfortable in an outskirt table and was soon attended to.

“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?

Nice nice, good.  in that case I would like 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”

“Sim senhor, imediatamente”.

Bander got to looking up more exclusive high-end clubs in the area to plan on while he waited.

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.

He felt he deserved it, winging it yesterday had left him too exhausted to hunt.

Bright lightning flash outside. Loud mini quake from the thunder.  
Privileged gasps throughout the massive lobby as the lights dimmed.

{That was a scary one.  exciting.

Siri says rain should clear out in a few hours.  Tonight should still- oh well hellOOoOoOoOwww there.

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

Yeah, that’s spicy.  That’s very fkn spicy.  That’s all triple plus spicy.

That’s MAH TYPE!}

 

A fit, curvy, provocatively dressed woman had graced her way to the bar to pick up an order.  Everybody noticed.

{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 a little 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.

…This place has that Sting background theme goin’ on, never thought that would come in handy someday.

Fkn ace.

This song will do perfect, 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.

Bander smoothly angled up to her 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!♪ …”

She smile-gasps in surprise and amusement, quickly grooved with him as he was performing, then jumped in and kept the game going.

“…♪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 laughed 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.

“Obrigada gustoso, vocem muito divertida….    …y romantica persona eo veo?

{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 good so is she fkn with me?

Or it’s 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.}

“Oh, eo muto pokeytoh falda.  Ehm, i was hoping you knew how to spea…    …?

She leaned in closer to him, doe eyed.

she points close to his upper chest, he feels himself levitating backwards from the shoulders.

He looks down tickled and a little confused.

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

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

{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!}

“May I be nice and offer you something?  A drink?”

“Obrigada, i have a nice drink coming already”, [curls her hair]

“Can I get you a hello-nice-to-meet-you cheesecake?  Strawberry flavor maybe?  My treat?”

The bartender hands her a pretty pastry box and a mango-raspberry smoothie.

“My, please-to-meet-you treat is here already, muito obrigada for offer to me.” 
[flirtingy winks at him]

Bander tries to keep up in this subtextual 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.  Everyone has a price, even the hard to get btches}

“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 good girl 😋.

You like sweet things also?”

{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.  I gots that extra rich flavor hun.
Matter of fact, I’m like, the full snack; I’m like; totes maple-licious yo”

She glides her manicure over her Gucci clutch, her other fingertips pinches her lower lip before she get’s back to speaking.

“Me thinks i know what you mean?”

She fixes her hair over her ear invitingly as she playfully flicked Bander’s lower rico-suave shirt button.

{Yes!  Bait and hook!  Time to reel it in and close this deal}

“Yeah, that’s right, means i got the golden ticket all season pass for two to the wanka factory if you catch my drift hun?”

The pretty woman throws her own drift.

“Maple-licious Wanka factoria sounds like a fun place we can go maybe. 
Golden passports take you anywhere you like.

I also like other things you know?  Little things.

Other treats.  I like Prada.  Alize.  Candle-lights.  
Knots on my bed sheets.  Jewelry and shopping sprees.

Would be nice to meet an extra sweet somebody that has that kind of tempo for me.

Lucky number is slevin figures and three days…     [sly smile]   …grace?”

{fk yeah!  Gonna Bander this chick!  Sht though!  3 days is a lot of commitment.  7 figures would be the most I’ve…    …but at the same time you’re getting higher quality and exclusivity.   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.  Fk yeah, that’s what the good life is all about and she got the goods.  Fk it, take the offer and worst case scenario just hit it and bounce.  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…}

She give’s him the this is your last-chance-look, lifts her leg up slightly as she indicates she is getting bored.

“I was hoping it would be my lucky today, it’s been so long since I’ve been with a somebody.”

She baits Bander with a teasing smirk as she goes to pick up the order.  
Bander beats her to it.

“Guuuurl.  I’m that somebody.

I can be that somebody all day for days.  Treat me right and we can get a whole week of gracing going on.

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, watch me help ya with this box and drink here, no big deal. 
Get yourself some of that maple-licious chivalry as a warm up”

{Yes!  That was good.  good one!  Real smooth.  Totally gettin’ it}

“oooooh, Muito gentil obrigadissima”.  [she accepts his extended elbow and arm invitation]

She wraps up on him like a littlefeather and leads him out, up and away. 
Bander awkwardly floats beside her with nothing to break the silence.

She keeps him entertained 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.  How far can she be cushion pushed.  She’s got that extra vibe in spades.  She’s going to take me places.  Did she ever tell me her name?  Don’t say anything just in case she did; just keep calling her hun.  Damn that body’s like a backroad- so many curves and me 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 far before.  that’s what i’m talking about!  Pushin’ limits!  go further.  go big, go bander or go home!  HMMMMMMVVVFFFFF YEAH!
GONNA BE SMASHING UP ON THAT FATTY AND POON REAL SOON!!!!!}

 

“Wow, i had no idea, that means gold something right?”

Bander is escorted into the room, she closes the door behind him.

A few steps in and things are totally off.

He looks back at her confused and worried.

She is not the same person of a few seconds ago.  She takes the box and drink from him, puts it to the side entryway table and pushes him further into the bedroom.

“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 a corner with a large leather scabbard on her lap.

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

On the bed is the Hotel owner’s wife.  There’s a small blood pool where her hand should have been, her face and remaining eye are staring into nothingness in his direction.

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 man in a black wife-beater 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 the hotel towel.

He looks over to Bander and the lady of the afternoon then nods unamused.

“Well salaam there to ya mate.

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

{what the fck did I walk into!  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. 
{You fkd up.  you fkd up!  This psycho is going to rape and kill you.  Or kill you and rape you!  Or both.  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”  [snaps loudly twice].

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

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

The lady shows the man a room card while she stands patiently behind Bander.  Attentive.

The machetero 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 received from the lady the key card on his way out.

Pepe peeks out and looks both ways down the hallway before running out.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I seem a bit upset, I wasn’t expecting unexpected visitors.

The place is a mess right now.  How embarrassing.  Afford me a moment to set things up for us.

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

He 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 >>

Clips radio back on and takes another drag.

Machete dude limps politely closer, his smoke following him as he went about re-arranging the furniture a bit, making a sitting space for Bander and himself with a small table in between.

“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 got blown up in your face.

Welcome to the club mate.  We know all about that.

I bet you have all kinds of questions and worries…

of course you would, i mean, look at this place…   …it’s bloody awkward.”

Done with arrangements, the man squares up akimbo in front of Bander and looks around over the heads in the room before getting back even closer to Bander, completely up in his breathing space.  Bander felt him take his air and couldn’t do anything about it.

“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 ammaright?

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

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

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

You are 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?”

“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?”

“…”

“Hey, we all humble folks here.

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

Relax a little.  Participate.  Collaborate.  Be open and honest and sht.  And I think we will all be doing just fine.

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

Bander notices the machete at ease in his left hand, his last two digits were missing, bringing dread over the thought of he himself being mutilated.

Wife beater guy 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…?”

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

“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 meltdown waves he was having.

Wishing he could disappear from there and be anywhere else.

Sniffling, afraid to move or speak at all.

“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”

The lady give’s Cassandro the pretty box and drink.

“ah!  Obrigado!  Muito amable”

He sets the box on the table next to Bander, then walks the drink over to the elderly woman.  He turns his back on her as he steps away.  She snaps her fingers, he pauses.

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

She snapped twice.  Cassandro winds back down immediately and nods respectfully.  Gets 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 back to it’s owner without immediately letting go.

Vovo tugged once, felt him resist, then slapped and pushed him across the arm, yanking her machete back.

She then shooed him away from her immediately with it.

All without getting up nor spilling her drink.

Cassandro almost tripped up and fell down as he limp-dodged away in time.  A second slower and he would have caught a bad gash.

He apologizes to her as he moves respectfully away, and appreciates her multiple times for letting him use her tool.

“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-

ta bom ta bom!

Disculpaaa olee.  okay okay…    …You sure you would not like some baklava there vovo de los machetes?  muito gostoso pastel dulce pra nos ole?”

She shook her head angrily, no.

“Well alrighty then, more for me and Bander here”

Vovo Tuira put herself back at ease.  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 plate, broke it in half.

Slid the slightly larger piece with plate included towards Bander.

“You are welcome to enjoy your share at any time”

Cassandro stayed standing and ate his half out of a napkin.

“hmf…     …that’s got; uuf, that’s some goody goodness, this is different, this is unique.  Whatever he did to that rapadura it really highlights a hidden shade of this recipe, I never had this before.

*hmf*.  Yup, yeah.  Gwow.  I’m feelin’ it.
Mosa, thank you so much for this; you weren’t kidding, that Chef ‘Berto knows his fkn treats.”

Cassandro sucks clean his three finger tips.

“fck yeah, that was satisfying.  It’s good stuff man.  You should relax.  Enjoy it.”

“…”

Bander is choking on fear.

“It’s alright if you don’t want it right now, don’t worry about it. 
Be advised though, I’m trying to be as welcoming as possible here for you if you haven’t noticed.”

Mosa placed two glasses of water on the table.

Cassandro appreciates the gesture.

“Muito amable, obrigadisimo…

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, even a tiny bit, goes a long way.  It’s critical for that mutual respect and healthy relationships we all depend on, so don’t be a jerk.

How’s the water?”

Bander complies immediately.

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

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

“Thank you, it’s really good.  thank you sir m’am, thank you m’am.  And for the- the handkerchief, thank you sir.”

Cassandro eases himself carefully into the chair over next of the table to sit down.

“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 choice kids to guests.

She’s been the brains behind this hotel for years now.

Making herself extra comfortable off of other’s people’s suffering. 
Behind the scenes, day in day out…

…so many lives went through here…

…Her missing accessories there were necessary for a security system they set up.

I don’t think it’s wise to match your body parts to systems, but hey, she’s made one bad decision after another.  Since real consequences are unlikely for people like her, she never thought there would be a ketchup day.

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

Mutters a bit.

“…this money system was built to bring out the monsters like her…       …divide and conquer agents…     …she’s lucky i’m the one who did the fkn work…   …fkn psycho put price tags and sales on kids.  The mindset behind someone like that…     …no limits to value based corruption…”

The woman is hooked up to some light makeshift equipment and tools.

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

“Anyway, behind said system we expect to find the resources and leads we need to get serious about answering prayers.  I’m sure you get it, it’s not rocket surgery.  This is about bad guys doing really bad things while other bad folks look away from the problem, and us good peeps intervening with the little we got; cuz we refuse to abandon victims no matter what.  So we gotta go god mode.  You know the verse? 

When worst comes to worst mah peoples come first? 

Well, we been living the worst for thousands of years, we still here for each other, imagine that. 
We showed up because we got heart mate, we got it when nobody else got it. 

We be the ones doing the real hunting.  Finding.  Protecting…”

Bander pushes himself to breathe.

…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”

Bander doesn’t move outside from his involuntary shaking. 
Cassandro remains fixated on the woman and mumbles off again before getting back on track.

“…so many dead.  So many unanswered prayers…    …nobody showing up…”

“In this particular case, they touched a juggernaut’s baby.

They fckd around and are finding out.

So chillax there bud.

You’re not the target. 
As far as we know, you’re just some silly rando with deep pockets;  Nothing we haven’t seen before.  This particular juggernaut requires all the resources and tools it can get to solve this problem.  You have money, that’s a resource and a tool.  We separate you from that money and off you go.  You go out there and get-to-go fk off and do whatever it is opulent people do after they lose their power sticks, savvy?”

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 holds onto everything.

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

Cassandro addresses this.

“Do you know her name?”

“Ma..    Mrs. Martha sir”.

“Do you own or rent?”

“rent.   renting for 2.  2 weeks sir…”

silence.

low radio noises.

Muffled beeping.

“That monster goes by Karla Homolka as one of her names.

Pyschologist.  Vegetarian.  entrepreneur.  Former inmate.  trafficker.  scumbag…”

Bander cringes in tremor. 
The view. 
Her entire face is blasting him in a frozen scream. 
The bloody bandaged stump hand.

One empty eye socket stuffed with cotton.

Open mouth drooling all over the sferra giza sheets.

{let them know you like grown women, let him know you like grown women!  say something, don’t let him think you you’re involved in this sht!  fck!  is he the dad or boyfriend or pimp?!   wtf!  just shut the fck up. don’t say anything.  don’t wanna fkn die.  don’t wanna fkn die.  He’s not hurting you, this is good.  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 that lady 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?!}

“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!  That answers the question of who’s that on the bed.

Next question is, who is Bander.

What kind of person is he?  Why he be like he is and does the things that he does.

I’d like you to help me figure that out.”

Bander stiffens up.

“I see Mosa brought you in.

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

You some kind of somebody or something somebody important or something?

I be confident the two of you have never met before, am i right on that?”

Bander nods “Yes sir”.

“Dude, She was gone for like, 10 minutes, 15 minutes tops.  The order was called in from up here.  What kind of a person follows a total stranger alone to their room like that? 
You got trust issues or something?”

“…”

“Is it that hard to admit that you were thirsty af?”

“…I was thirsty sir.  I was so thirsty.  I thought she was…   I thought she wanted…

I didn’t know anything.  I won’t say anything.  I-“

“Gonna stop you there, need to point some sht out right quick.

The world is full of cowards, and they tend to talk a lot, especially in circles, and ain’t nobody got time for that, especially not me.  I have no reason to expect honesty from you.

I respect truths.  Integrity.  Reputations.  Warrior spirits…    …you don’t got that. 
I don’t respect you, nobody does.  And why would they?  You’s a taker, not a giver.
My bloody boots are saltier than you. 
You in the real world now esse, the lies here aren’t cute; lies here get you slaved or killed.  I only care about your intentions, how you manage your relationships, what tools you use, and what your effect on others is.  No biggie right? 
Your actions speak louder than your words, you capisce that mate?”

Bander nods.

“That was a socially incompetent and extremely dangerous move you made waltzing in here like that.  So, I think we can all stand to reason you got that jumbo dumbo money.
Everyone knows money corrupts.

Money is the biggest ideology in the world, by far the largest parent religion and gambling platform.  It’s a lifestyle, a tool, a weapon, it’s even a character trait…    …it brings out the worst in people.  It fkd you up so much you don’t question how fkd up your own life is anymore.

Don’t even trip though….       …imma take it off your hands for you; as a favor of course.

Cuz I want you to see cuz.
I want you to see the real you, the best you, the sky isn’t a fkn limit you.

The new you is going to be better than the old you.
This is good therapy.  Helpful.  Will reset your perspective. 
You familiar with mammon?”

“no sir”

“Full sentences when speaking to me please”

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

“Shame.  Ironically, it’s you, as you are right now, and you caught up with you today.”

Cassandro calls on radio.

< revisos y confirme, revisos y confirme   >

light radio static.

<< maçãs verdes, maçãs verdes, fin >>

Cassandro lights up another smoke and continues to engage Bander.

“What is your definition of intelligence?  How would you measure how smart you are? “

“I..  //eh/  ,,,    …”

“I expect answers to my rhetorical questions.  I don’t enjoy one-way conversations and I’ve been patient with you”

“…Smartness and IQ scores…   …sir?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“answer sir, that’s my answer”

“Right, and how does that answer my question on how you measure it?
I get that high numbers are a good thing, I’m rolling wit’ you here, but do you know how this IQ system works to get the high numbers?  Like, what do I need to do to have the highest IQ points and rank in the world?  And if I have a high IQ, what does that mean to anyone?  If my IQ is lower than yours, does that make you better than me?  Could you please explain these things.”

“…”

“So that’s your limits on a very important question…    …look, it’s easy as cake,  intellige-

The door opens.

Pepe returns and hands Mosa back the key-card, then goes to Cassandro and gives him a bag with a few papers and documents, then went back to squatting over the computer screen and radio traffic in his corner of the room.  He set his new gopro neatly next to him and enjoys a Big Turk bar as he does his monitoring.  Mosa puts the card back in the wallet she was holding and hands it over to Cassandro.

{Sht, that’s my wallet, they have my wallet.  That kid was in my room.  When did they take my wallet.  fck, did they also take my phone.  Don’t check, don’t let them know.  Just keep talking, be calm, nobody is hurting you, don’t reach for it.  They want money.  Shoot them the 25 million that’s in the SEB Stockholm account.  You have to keep that limit.  They just want money and to find some kid or something.  Be cool, be cool, we can get out of this.  Talk it out.  be calm.  Be calm and carry on}

Cassandro quickly sorts and organizes the paperwork on the table and in his hands.

“No worries mate, we can find out about you and what’s got you so fkd up together.  So let’s get this intervention going on for you; was running out of small talk anyway…     …alright so what do we have here…     …Canadian passport also eh?  That’s not a good sign…    …Early 20s.  travel stamps all over the place here…  wallet…     …receipts…   …licenses…   …plenty of cards…   …credit cards, top trims…   …right…   …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…

[Cassandro moves from the wallet contents to the other documents.  He reads and reviews while speaking or muttering out loud, scanning over the documents from one to another, making side by side contrasts on some of them]  

 …oh, looky that.  Indications of private planes and yacht ownership under LLC’s, I see you are beyond having to deal with airports…    ….I mean, airports are for plebeians man I feel you on that one, fk those shty airport experiences dawg…    …involvement with different overseas companies…    …Right.  It’s not obvious here but indication is that you have over 6 other passports, residencies, citizenships, etc and many turnkey businesses all over the place…     smart, the world is your oyster there…     …you can just up and go where you are treated best…       …hmmm, them be impressive statements here but nothing remarkable…   …but that’s the point isn’t it?…        …it’s not what you have, it’s how you have it, and here you have….         ….yeah, just like the other ones, major ownership roles and virtually no obvious tie-ins and accountability…         …you are really good at this discretion game mate, you’re smarter than many of ‘em other yokers out there.  You have a unique strategy that I can’t even…    ….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.

{fk is this guy, the CRA.  Distract him.  Distract him fast!  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 or something.  Fkn say something}

“sorry sir, I.  I didn’t understand.  The part of, -the part on how to measure intelligence sir”

Cassandro stops what he is doing and gives it a moment of thought.

“Intelligence means you can solve problems.  The smarter you are, the bigger the problems you can solve.  That’s pretty much it matey, it’s a simple thing to measure and test and tie your pride into.  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 don’t stack up to a squirrel.  But that’s okay, you got a handy human super power that can bring you up to speed.  

Just learn from others and work with them on how to solve problems and you’ll be on the right track.  You ever notice that squirrels prep their nuts for the winter mate?  That solves a huge problem.  I encourage you to nut up as well and be smarter than squirrels in solving problems; it’s been fkn cold out here for ages.”

Cassandro adjusts his bum leg.

“Right now, both of our intelligences are being tested.  My problem is finding out what your value as a person is, where you came from, where you going, how much money you hiding, and finding a positive outcome to this situation you put yourself into.  All while being pressed for time.  That’s not an easy ask.  The problem you are trying to solve is finding your way back to that comfortable lifestyle you love so much, the one where you don’t have to face consequences for your bad habits and bad decisions right?”

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

“We’re both smart people.  We’re both natural born problem solvers.  Let’s see if we can solve our problems in a together way right?   Let’s use these superpowers we got. 
Bander, what does intelligence mean?”

“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 you will be out of this escape room in no time.”

Cassandro takes another drag.

“I’ll let you sit there and keep thinking up ways to solve your problem, if it’s alright with you I’ll be going back to mines.”

{Fck sht.  He’s serious about looking for all of it, not just a payout.  Don’t risk it.  Be calm, talk little, play along.  Everybody wants money.  No fkn way, everybody needs money, just get the numbers right.  It’s all about getting the numbers right.  They also can’t possibly understand the value in the tangible assets and property rights system.   They can’t take everything if they don’t know what everything is.  keep the liquidity at 25 million}

Cassandro extends his hand out. “your phone”.

{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, he probably doesn’t know to work the GUI anyway. You’re good.  You’re good} [Bander reaches for the wrong pocket]  there’s a pen here, that’s a weapon.  You might need to use it.  don’t use it.  Fkn pen to a machete fight isn’t a good bet.  He’s also strapped in.  Don’t make them mad.  people are unpredictable and more dangerous mad.  He doesn’t care about you}

Bander reaches to the other pocket and hands over his phone.

{he won’t find anything.  wrong password will lock it up enough times.  no, don’t get him angry.  Just be quiet, he will likely activate the auto-lock himself and give up or something}

Cassandro looks at his reflection on the black mirror and blows smoke over the screen.

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

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

{sht sht sht!}

“Alrighty then, lets check out that media…     …places and things and food…     …hugs and smiles…      …so many damn selfies….    …diversity in scenery but not in people, that’s lame of you…      …. museum visits…     …cultural artifacts…   …pictures of top trims cars as well, how unexpected…🙄    …. ah!  You’re an artists of sorts…      …painting as a medium…   ….paintings have a theme of…     ….fruits on expensive tableware and women posing on furniture?…      …that’s…    that’s it?….     …not so subtle signatures; you really be feeling yourself…        …you even signed some sketches that don’t look complete…”

Cassandro shakes his head.

“Gotta take a moment and let you know your art is sht by the way mate.  Objectively speaking of course.  Art is communication.  Art has to say something…      …and you don’t seem to be doing any of that here.   All I’m getting is that you think art is something that looks nice to hang up, brag about your color choices and use of shadows, and then mushroom stamp or something.  You’re lacking so much depth here homie…     I mean, you shouldn’t have to sign your art for people to know it came from you, that’s how you know you are sending a message out there, signatures don’t mean sht…        …one sec; gotta verify this to see if anybody thinks different.  We are talking ’bout art after all, it’s fkn communication, that sht needs open discussion to work.  For all I know I’m reading your art wrong and that would be a bad look.”

“Pepe, que mensaje es este?”  pepe checks it out.  shakes his head, points at bander and motions his hands that he is a jack-off.

“favore muestre a Vovo” pepe takes the phone over to vovo.

“mensaje vovo?”

Vovo 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, and gives it back to pepe to return to Cassandro before chipping in.

“He finds and pays women that follow commands and are okay to be uncomfortable for as long as it takes him to finish…   …that is power to have that…     …they are to him, like, objects, available to take any time at all, like fruits on the table.  He paint small oysters with the fruits, and the fancy napkins with the gold renda are folded up lingerie.

…he is celebrating his power, like all the other psychos, that is his arte…    
…he is nothing maple-licious”.

Cassandro listens and nods as he gets the phone back.

“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.  It’s hard to stick up for yourself when there’s nothing to stick up for.  You don’t even respect yourself…     [Cassandro scratches his chin]  …Maple-licious eh, sounds like a nickname someone would give themselves…   …alright, lets get back into this….     …check out these emails…     …multiple accounts and apps…     …you are doing commercials for money…    …no, you are sharing with others and using sales money as a cover up, keeps you engaged and active and healthy and socially connected….        …Good move, so you don’t appear like a total bum…        …one of the cost’s of going the greyman option and negotiating privacy vs security…        …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 got that adventure spark in you that can’t be caged no matter what in the end eh?…   …and you are capitalizing on that as well, not out of necessity, but to get objective numbers to your different socio-economic strategies…      ….nice soundtrack you added there, impressive editing you did yourself…      …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 hoodies too bro?  whoah, look at you go…         …stock accounts…      …plenty of diversification, plenty of dividends flowing in from all over the place…       …these ads look to be extra niche with you…          …nah, that storage space doesn’t add up right…     …hmm…         …here we go…    …some kind of secret app out here…     ….eenie meenie miney…   …allright…      …this bingo lingo app….      ….language lessons folder- between Croatian and Cuyonon…    ….cunninglinguist ain’t no language I ever heard of…     …this one is 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”

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

“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, but hey, this would not be your first bad decision right?
I’m really not going to ask you again to work with me here on this.

“Oe, vovo?” Vovo Tuira nods at Cassandro and the machete readies up for another statement.

{Sht sht sht.  just do it.  fck it, just fkn do it.}

Bander unlocks the discreet bingo lingo app vault for him immediately.

“Good, let’s see here…     …Bander time folder eh, whatever could that…      …oh.  of course…      …so you do value diversity…      …here’s all that power tripping Mosa was talking about…      ….damn, even your fkn is weak…      …of course it would be…      …since you can’t win others over by being a valuable person…    …and you depend on others being submissive for you to exist, you are…     …and there it is again, you are quick to explore that violence. 

Look here Bander.  Look at yourself. 

That wasn’t a playful slap, you ain’t playing around with no jiggle jiggle wiggle wiggle here, you are testing that person’s threshold for submission, and your own threshold on being an abuser.  Where do you think this kind of character path goes?…        ….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.  Look at you now.  Yous a fkn narcissist psycho freak is what you are.  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 of values.  They were desperate enough or scared enough to accept that kind of treatment; from a fkn stranger; from a fkn nobody like you.  This is the world that gets you off Bander?  You accept this?  How do you live doing things to others you wouldn’t like done to you or your loved ones?  [Cassandro shows him another violent act done on another woman]  Look at that you psycho freak.  Any idea what that is doing to your psyche?…   …Any idea what that does to HER psyche?…      

 …[sighs]  Noone should have to tell you this son; you simply can’t force relationships.  When you go down the path of controlling others, rather than work with them on meeting mutual wants and needs, you fulfill the definition of evil…      … this is sad to watch…      …those poor women just trying to survive out there…      …this is how monsters are born…      …pepe was also right about you ya fkn tosser…”

Mosa had approached closer, looking over at the Bander time content playing and 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.

“…hmmm.  wait.  Hold on.  just when you think you’ve seen everything…    …you hid a business plan around here as well, what are you so bashful about?  I mean, after all that…     oh?  Well this is something indeed.    …Another struggle…  …looks like you wanted to take on the Olympics in some kind of way…        …nice, nice.  this is fascinating.  It’s crude, it’s lacking, but it’s got potential…       …you were working on a legacy angle here mate…    …this is the only real art I’ve seen so far from you…      …it’s ballsy and grandiose af, why would you not…     …dated…     …was this some kind of school project?”

“yes sir”

“did you submit this, or submit another one?”

“a. another one”

“what was the other one about”

“3D printed sugar under porter’s 5 forces sir”

Cassandro lights himself another bidi.

“You work hard at being low-key.  Hide yourself.  Mask yourself.  The way you third-partied, even fourth-partied yourself on these businesses while keeping substantial ownership shares shows incredible intelligence and precaution…     …and fear.  Shame you have no prosocial direction, it would fix all your problems to not be stuck on selfish so much…      [Cassandro quickly reviews other parts of the phone and web history]. 

…finishing up here…   …I noted that you are tied to that Canadian Maple industry in some way…       …and potash…     …you were born into all of this sht…       …Ha!  Nice.  Seems like you like to watch battle rap vids also…”

Cassandro puts the phone down on the table. 

“Well, I think we got a good sense of who you are.  We get what your life’s like.  Now the problem is figuring out how much you got.  Problems with money be that, at certain levels, it becomes more about control and ownership and hard tangible assets and corporate jurisprudence than the liquidity front and numbers on paper.  It is harder, confusing, even controversial to quantify that sht wouldn’t ya know?  Hard to pocket check something like that…”

Cassandro taps the top of Bander’s phone for a moment in thought. 

“problems with money is that it’s a war and slavery strategy, a narcissim tool, and it’s very fkn effective in possessing us.  It was built from the ground up to tap into our natural behaviors, money knows us more than we know it.
That’s a god level power to have, and it brings nothing but god level problems for the warriors in us.
Wasn’t kidding when I said money worship is the mother of all these cults running around.
I always run into this problem, it’s hard to get integrity out of zealot puppets like you, since your survival is tied to it, you simply can’t imagine a life without it. 
Just the thought of losing these money and control tools can lead to some bizarre behaviors out there.  And of course, how couldn’t it?  If your survival is based off of it you will fight to not lose it.  Taking money from a baby leads to lying, meltdowns, unexpected and erratic reactions, ruined relationships, depression and anxiety, and even suicidal ideations. 
Turns you into a smeagol of sorts…

I mean, watch this…

Hey Bander, how much money do you have?”

“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, …   …more money more problems sir?”

Cassandro nods, looking frustrated.

“Sure, that’s what I was saying.  So big problem for us now is; i don’t believe the numbers you just gave me.  Feels like a lot is missing.  I don’t like this feeling.

I hate being lied to; it’s very manipulative and disrespectful to my time and goals.

Only person in this world right now who remotely cares about you is me.

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

Money and value basing are serious topics, you may need a moment is all…

…Hey Bander…   Once upon a time there was a loaded gun with no safety that went off in the late roaring twenties called Black Thursday.  It was a gun so damn big it pushed wrecked lives and suicides everywhere, I’m talkin’, global scale; effects felt everywhere, people either hit their loved ones or couldn’t look them in the eye anymore, people drank themselves to death, walked in front of trains, jumped out of buildings, locked themselves in their cars and hotel rooms as a quiet goodbye to it all.  And all kinds of horror stories. 
Those that survived got over it and continued on being slaves to the mammon’s of the world like you, it’s like, a very persistent and obvious problem, a cycle.  Imagine wash rinse repeat 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.

“…The reality of putting a number on things as priceless as life itself; LIFE, the only universal MIRACLE no one can deny…    …well, I just think it’s a bad move is all, i beg you to learn from your mistakes and take that to heart…    …your life is not worth 25 million dollars mate.  It’s not worth all the gold in the world.  You are fkn priceless dawg.

…Cassandro finishes his smoke while he feels on the scars on the left side of his face.

Cassandro stands up.  Does a small stretch, shakes his hands 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 at a golf range out there somewhere testing out all kinds of fire powah.  You like-eh the powah eh mate?  The powah is good?  Right right, you like-eh the powah, it’s a you thing.  Like shty art, shty fkn, and business and skydiving and lying and hiding and sht…

Well, check it out.  Bander, look alive.  I got just the thing for you, gonna hook you up proper mate. Get you that full coverage so that you can better negotiate your way out there and not have to depend on that money no’ mo’.
With this in hand, you’ll be squared away and good to go no matter what comes your way.

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

“Y-Yes sir”

“Good good, nice.  That was a hard line.  That other line, tierra o muerte was hard af as well mate.  Quality lines like that can only be backed up with legit hardware.  You can’t just go out there alone, you need something for your travels as you go on your little adventures and sea-fares and sht, something accessible and close by that you can count on to stand up for you, you know, something with a kick-back.  You dig that?“

Bander nods not knowing what he is agreeing to.

Cassandro loosens up and then retightens his belt and adjusts his pants, then pulled his piece out from his shoulder strap and presents to Bander.

“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 will hear you out. 
So much to love here.   It feels good in the hand, [Cassandro does a cool cowboy twirl with it], well balanced throughout, and when you hold it, it speaks to you.   Art is connection Bander.  And this art brings out the primal in you, the real you, it connects to the super sayan ape protector in you.  Money will never guarantee you protection, money isn’t loyal to you at all.  But this piece right here is all about that loyalty over money.  That’s a good thing right?

Yo, check out this little nipple here you fkn trash pervert you; you coax it a bit and this cylinder pops out.”

The revolver spread open in front of Bander face down, showing a round row of casings.

“look at all that ass Bander.  That’s six culos all buttoned up and ready for you to go buck wild protecting yours and yours out there.

Here, watch out.  Catch this.”

Cassandro muzzles it upwards vertically and shakes the rounds onto Bander’s hand.

“feel that, it’s okay to get handsy with them, it helps with the sale.  You like feeling up on cans right?  Something wrong with slapping these ones?  You can be rough here, really, it’s okay.”

Bander holds the bullets in his hand careful not to make any sudden moves.

The rounds feel like marbles.

“Quick flick of the wrist and voila, cylinder is closed and ready to take on whatever. 
This thing takes situations and turns it into whatever. 
You having a picnic?  And a hater shows up to sht on your day?  Well you know what you gotta do boo-boo; take this; do you; turn that sht into whatever and do it with style too. 

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.  It’ll simplify complexities like it ain’t nothing, like fkn nothin’.  Cuz this sht right here, this sht right here mate?  This sht right here is the fkn truth.  A necessary truth homey. 

Be careful though, full disclaimer, you hit it too much without protection you’ll go deaf…     …Now I’m sure you’re asking yourself right now, what’s her name right?   [Cassandro smiles amused]  She’s a real banger and you just gotta know her name? 

Get this mate, she’s called; Le’ Nafta Disagreement.

Sexy eh?…”

Cassandro remains admiring it his hands, his eyes are getting a little red.

“…This here is more than a tool, it’s a relationship, it’s a story.  Reliability and trust and adventure are key features here.”

Cassandro opens Banders other hand and slaps the pistol onto his palm.

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

“…”

“right there, on the back of the grip”

“z- Zapata sir”

“MF right.  That piece belonged to a somebody out there that went super sayan on a big problem, against all odds, so that’s no ordinary piece.  She’s got context, significance…   …the whole thing is an embodiment of a timeless, simple and effective counter-culture strategy.  It’s role in struggles makes it historically unique, like that machete vovo has over there, so suffice it to say friend, she isn’t like all them other girls out there…

[Cassandro continues admiring le’ Nafta as it sits in Bander’s hand]. 

 …So whatsup, you like it?”

“I. I don’t know sir”

“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.

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

Mosa opens up, smiles wide and happily receives a tightly closed bag stacked with food in to-go plates.  “ola querido…    Sim.    Ah!   Muito obrigada ‘Berto.  “Oh! …ostras com limão-finger também, eu nunca aproveitei isso antes.  Adeus, mua mua.”  She closes the door.

Cassandro alerts Mosa quickly, “Oe!  Mosa, ‘spera!  Tell him that the Baklava was bom bom muito bom bom for me!  It was super bom bom!”

Mosa opened back up and hollered at Chef ‘Berto his quick shout-out and closed the door back up.

“Where were we…   ….right…  You were talking about being scared and sht.  Look, this is the right instrument for someone in your predicament.  I mean, without plata, all that’s left out there is plomo like the rest of us vulnerable folks out here…      …this is me looking out for you brohan.  It’s the only way I can think of to negotiate this for the best outcomes possible.  

With this on you, what’s there to be afraid of?”

Mosa looks at Cassandro and gestures him. 
Cassandro nods and shuts off the bag line going into the bed patient.

“I believe we were speaking about money, and values and worth, and how that’s going to be a problem.  We can solve this the easy way or the hard way, the choice is yours.

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

I’ll ask again nicely.  How much?”

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

“25 million sir.”

“ I see then.

That’s how you want to go out…

…I hate it when i have to deal with this ignant side of people; fkn money games and money arguments and sht.  It can get exhausting real quick.”

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 jams it up to Banders mouth – CAN’T STAND YOUR FAKE VALUE BASING BULLSHT!  THIS ISN’T A HARD QUESTION MF!  YOU SHT!  YOU ARE COMING BETWEEN ME AND PRAYERS FROM PEOPLE WHO NEED US TO HURRY IT THE FK UP!!!   YOU KNOW HOW THESE FK FK GAMES PLAY OUT MF!  KEEP FKN AROUND!  DO IT!   I TEACH YOU.  I PROTECT YOU FROM YOUR OWN FK UPS.  AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET YA SMEAGOL PSYCHO MF YOU!!!

Cassandro cocks the gun and Bander hears it loud af and blanked out.

*CLICK*.  Bander heard that loud af also and blanked right back in.

He yells from the non-barrelled side of his mouth “26 MILLION SIR!!!”

“I DON’T FKN BELIEVE YOU.  RUN YOUR SHT! RUN YOUR SHT RIGHT FKN NOW!!!  Cassandro holds Bander’s head up violently by his hair as he keeps the cannon fixed onto his mouth; lips jammed and getting cut and bruised up against his teeth. 

Bander sideways calls out “800 million sir!”.  FUCK THAT!  YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE.  YOU FKN DID IT AGAIN!!!

Cassandro let’s go of Bander’s hair, slaps him across the face. Hard. then grabs him by the hair again.

Bander clutches tight the gun and rounds in his hands.

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

LAST CHANCE TO BE REAL BABY NUTS!

THREE

TWO

ONE

Cassandro yells at him as 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 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- “

“SHUT THE FK UP CODFISH!   Just…

…Relax…    …i have the answers I need…

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

…well, congratulations, you played yourself. its always a huge mindfck when people value base priceless sht…     …that’ll wreck your mind…  
    …Anyway, this revolver is no 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 shell colors 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 and cries some more. 

“Yeah!!!  this sweet invention of mine, mister billionaire sir, is going to be the next best thing in our continued evolution of surviving a sick twisted dystopian society.  As you can see right here, [points] this little lever here puts up a block that keeps the hammer from striking that culo keg after being cocked back and slammed forward.  It’s ingenious Bander, i call it, the cock-blocker.  I made it myself.  Put a lot of time and energy and thought into it, it’s a multi-situational problem solver. 
Just like yours, it’s a versatile tool, functional, reliable.  The main difference is that you are stuck on one kind of caliber, this one on the other hand, is a tad more more adaptable to a more dynamic environment.  It’s fluent in the entire 12 gauge vocabulary so it’s a real cunninglinguist you know whattamean?

 Oh!  i’m particularly proud of this one, i’m sure you are asking yourself, wouldn’t something like that straight up break your wrist? 
Well yes!  Yes, it would.  Too much recoil definitely hurts the shooting experience….   
That’s why this beauty is backed up by oobleck recoil tech. 
That’s to say, all that wrist shock is getting absorbed in the back frame by water and cornstarch, that’s it. 
So yeah, there’s that, no big deal…    
Psyche! it’s a big deal, it’s got that POWAH on tap we like so much Bander.  Big guns is big powah! 
I’m talking about, running in ballz out one handed bandolero style mate. 
I’m talking about; bean-bags, buck-shots, slugs, salts stuff, flechettes and dragon breath. 
I’m talkin’ ’bout, this gun so big it puts down big game, big engines, big fools, and big lies. 
When this punches up, sht shakes and all them koopa troopas flip on they backs nah mean? 
So what’d’ya think, would you invest into this mate?  
Was that a proper shark-tank pitch?

“Please sir…”  Bander continues crying.

Cassandro lets out a sigh and puts the shooter away.

“I get it…    …I totally undersold the ROI side of my pitch…  

You’re throwing me off here as i should be the one crying right now…     ….you okay there man?”

Bander keeps crying.

“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 I can’t relate to whatever it is you are going through. 
You chose the hardway ya affluenza riding fck head”

Cassandro prepares a joint.  

“Did you wanna hit mate?  Goes good with that treat that’s still waiting for 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.
He clutches the pistol and feels a small level of comfort somehow.

Cassandro lights up and adjusts himself back into the chair.

“…a fkn billionaire.  there’s only like, 2 to 3 thousand of you slippery 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 water and takes a few more hits.  You could feel his heavy thinking.

Bander blows his nose.  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 always knew there was a possible consequence to his lifestyle.

Cassandro brings his 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 spectrum. 

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

…So this is contrast, this is 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 shooter have a name?”

Cassandro nods at the question. 

“Chekhov”

silence.

radio noises in the background.

Low beeping noises.

“ …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 their role?”

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

Cassandro nods his head. “word…   word.  It’s a good fkn show…”.

{Do something, say something, show him something, anything.  keep him talking.  Keep this talk going.  Don’t fkn lie to him.  Show interest.  He’s chill right now.  He likes Arthur and rhymes and sht.  Use that}

“…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 fkn guy called.  fck are you doing, just type arthur and chance and that should do it.  Fk!  These fkn ads.  There it is!

Is he going to give the phone back.  Hold the phone while you show him.}

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

“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.

“Mosa!  Pepe, Vovo, you should check this out.”

Vovo Tuira shakes her head no and keeps her hands resting on the machete in its sheath.  Pepe shakes his head no, he remains attentive to the screen and radio traffic, still enjoying his big turk bar bit by bit.  Mosa leans in a little closer behind Bander while it’s playing.

Cassandro enjoys the video as he smokes.  “haha!  look at ’em go.  Looks like they having a good time and sht in that world they created there for themselves. 

Them some hard lines they spittin’.  They got that real warrior spirit.”

Everyone could hear the song.

Cassandro replayed it several times. “…that’s a gangsta move he did there.  He did well passing on the message…”

“…message…     …sir?”

“Game recognize game son, and this here is warrior art.  It’s all about communicating the right messages to keep humanity alive on this space rock as we figure out the world peace problem.   Only thing keeping psychos like you from full domination over all of us are messages like this and the super sayans that come from it.  And this is a hard message to twist and get wrong.  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 intelligence boost and are better equipped to solve real problems, big problems, global problems. 

The stronger the artist, the stronger the message delivery and impact. 
We compete on this sht yo.  We warriors got that real deal art, the kind that alters moods and talks to you, and will 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? 

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

Cassandro gives Bander a friendly nudge and looks over to Mosa before getting back to Bander.

“This whole song is an instruction on how to live a good life.  Give it a listen.  It’s perfect directions.  Chance saw that, came in and added even more value to it, his message is;

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

sounds familiar?”

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

“good good….     …i’ll say this right now, y’all be my witness.  I think I can top Chance on this. 
Hey Arthur’s my sht.  Gonna be hard to one up this Chance guy but I think I got this.”

Cassandro gets back up and asks Pepe to put the 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 could’a died today, easy.  Just another psycho narcissist sht head dead and the world would have shrugged it off as another whatever moment. 

Cassandro removes his hand and enunciates in the air with it; “Here lies Bander, his time ran out- Got wrecked chasing ass with money and his art was whack.”

That’s the legacy you want to leave behind?  that’s the great Bander story?

Put your rounds and weapon away.”

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

radio noise

<< Leoa Leoa >>

Cassandro quickly answers.

< 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 away, trying to hold back the rage and frustration that escaped her.  Walking in place and clutching her fists in desperation.

Cassandro answers immediately.
< 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 got her bearing back.

She looks at Cassandro eyes watery and red. 
Cassandro nods, gets up and concludes with Bander.

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

If you’ll excuse me, I gotta go get back to this fight.  All those prayers out there aren’t going to answer themselves.

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

Stay frosty out there.  Alright?  We cool?  Cool then, I’m out”

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

He was stepping out but stopped himself abruptly.

“oh, yeah.  Sorry mate.  I don’t like 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 empty holster.

He approaches Mosa who quickly asks.

“É sobre bilhões? Isso muda algo?”

”   …oh si…     …muito.  muito muito.  Muito mas poder…    …muito mas risco…  …. mas é mais provável encontrá-lo…      …voce necessita la pulpa…”

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

“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

“muito muito muito obrigada”

[she squeezes]

Cassandro reciprocates

“I only wish I could do more”.

Cassandro lets go and looks at her.

Mosa looks right back.

She smiles light. “lo quieres ver eh?”

Cassandro smiles and winks humbly.  “por favore?”

“homens néscios…”   Mosa 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 continues looking into the purse…    …and stays looking…    …admiring…

“…”

“…it’s Fkn art…”

“…”

“…Can 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.

Mosa puts her gun back and puts the clutch 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 food order and closed the door on his way out behind them.

Mosa and Bander are left alone in the room.

silence.

Radio noises.

Muffled beeps.

{THIS IS IT!  if you can load the gun you can shoot her and run out.  will the gun even work?  is this even a real gun. Forget about the fkn gun.  Club her with it, sht felt heavy enough.  You got that pen also.  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 non-threateningly.

He puts his hands up and begins to speak.

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

Mosa stepped into him and delivered a liver shot that knocked Bander and some of the rounds in his pocket to the floor immediately.

He couldn’t breathe, he was locked up from the worst pain he had ever experienced.

She dug her stiletto heel onto bander as she calmly separated him from his shooter, then stepped off.

“Pick up the 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 will make you get up.  we do this easyway 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.  Delivers.

Mosa continues to order him around.

“Grab the legs.  Hold them”

Bander holds the bed woman’s legs.

Mosa straddles over the woman’s arm, holds the monster’s chin up.

 “Look at me.  look here psycho.  LOOK AT ME NOW!   She starts pulling chunks of the woman’s hair out, waking her up.

The woman looks at her, her one eye wide open. 

Mosa looks through her trying to hold back her own tears.  All she see’s is red.

“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 my life.  he WILL grow and have a good life. I’M GOING TO DO; WHAT I HAVE TO DO!!!

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 has taken to working the granite pestle around the mouth; lightly tapping and smashing the lips and teeth in together.  It gags and started choking on it’s own blood and tooth-chippings while it’s other arm in a bandaged stub helplessly flails about.

Mosa kept going, focused, holding the jaw like a mortar 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 loud 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 instruction and expectations.
“When I say one; you break them, or I break yours!”

“THREE”

“TWO”

Bander grabbed the pestle 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 now 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 I’m here doing this right now.  This is so wrong.  So wrong.  Do it. DO IT! Just do it. don’t think about it.  

[The legs now looking like bloody marshmallows hanging on thin-sticks, with bits of bone poking out and every whack sending sht 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…  Get over it.  It’s either Martha or you.  Survive this.  This is what it takes to survive.  Survival.  Survive.  SURV-}

Bander received a downward slap so hard he thought the deck had sprung up to give him an uppercut.

“I say STOP-GIVE-BACK.  I do not like to repeat myself.  When it not listens, it get’s the heel.”

She dug her her stilettos into Bander again as she took her pestle back, wiping off the excess blood and bone bits on his rico suave shirt.

She then grabs Banders arm.  Hard.  And forces him up on his feet like a child, he feels his triceps being pinched and crushed 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 in the corner of the room.   There was blood in it and he feels light headiness and shock start to creep 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 there’s three flashes.

“That cell is your new home 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 “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…”

“i have to go.  I do not know when coming back.  you leave, I will know, I will come and break your face, and sell your body pieces one by one.  Extra kidney.  Extra lung.  Extra meat.  Whatever left alive, cut up and feed the 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 sale and clean up.  Mosa gets her stuff and the shemagh Cassandro had left for Bander.  She strong arms Bander out the room.  Down the stairwell.  out the door into the cool night rain.

While moving she vented and cried.

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

Outside, she throws him out onto the streets and yells at him.

“You go now.  Go now!  I hate you psychos!   YOU GO AWAY NOW!” [whips out the 1911] 
“GO FASTER!”

Bander does his outmost to run.  His body feels like broke-mush trying to function upright. 
He has been working past his limits since she busted his liver. 
Fear, and the drive to survive to fight another day keeps him on his feet.

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

Get the hell away from here as fast as you can.

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

A gun blast rang out and blew a chunk out the stop sign in front of him.

He swore he felt the bullet whiz hit him.

The few people outside in umbrellas scattered and dispersed immediately.

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