𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | 𝐃𝐂 𝐈𝐈

Vengeance is NOT bitter sweet

"𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙄 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚

𝙈𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙜𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮

𝙄𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙"

~

MIXTAPE 006

*Disappear- Sonic Youth

*Cocaine- Eric Clapton

*Hurt-Johnny Cash

~

3 MONTHS LATER

MARCH 1988

The days were slow. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go, that didn't make the paranoia sink in like a shipwreck, into the pit of my stomach and into the crevices of my mind, that had too much going on up there already. The Palace Hotel was a shit-hole, but to the many homeless strangers that stayed behind it's closed doors, it was a bed in from the cold. It was safer than the street. It was also full of drugs, that I'd warned Billy about. There was bunk drugs, then there was unusable narcotics that were so strong they'd probably give you a hemorrhage just by sniffing them. The harsh bitter winter had subsided, and the streets had finally been wiped clean of snow. Well, the snow that fell from the clouds above anyways. We were like sitting ducks in that room, pacing back and forth, every sound eating away at some part of our brains, telling us they were there, and they were going to kill us.

~

A chain of events so began on that breezy march afternoon. Billy, Petra and I had decided to go to the record store a block away, risking even that much to stop ourselves from going insane. The floorboards of the run down hotel, that was more like a hostel when it came down to it, always creaked. It wasn't a conspicuous thing to hear above your head. But the door of our room sitting ajar was a dead giveaway that something was definitely not right. My black painted nails that I'd finished off in one of my moments of boredom, wrapped around the gun in the back of my trousers, making sure the silencer was on. Not that Manny, the guy at the desk on the way in, was gonna do anything if he ever did so hear a gunshot or two. He'd seen some shit in his time. You could just tell. I don't even know what the fuck I was gonna do if this was the Soto Vatos in the other side of the door. Shit, what if it was Diablo himself. But, given my current circumstances, with being pissed off at having to hide in a dingy hotel being the cherry on top, I pushed open the door, my pistol raised, connecting with a forehead. The forehead of Marcus Lopez Arguello. His dark eyes widened as the weapon rose to his head, his hands going up in surrender.

"Fucking hell, it's only me!" He scoffed, the weapon slowly falling, being shoved back into my pocket.

"Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?" I asked with a roll of the eyes, before I looked at him again with a shake of the head, engulfing him in a hug. His hands reciprocated my embrace, before I pulled back. "Where have you been? Where's Maria?"

"She's at a motel outside the city. We couldn't take the risk of coming here together. It was just a theory. We didn't even know if you'd be here. I went to your house, the address Maria gave me. Explained who I was. I..I don't think your dad likes me" He finished with a grin. No shit. After everything you'd pulled us through, you're lucky you didn't get a bullet between your eyes, young Arguello.

"So, by coming here, you left Maria alone?" Petra asked, Marcus's eyes studying the drastic change in her appearance. Her eyes and lips were devoid of black makeup. It was different. But it wasn't Petra. Her mood made up for it, I guess.