The Kray-Kray Brothers

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The only thing this prison had in common with any other prison, was that it kept its prisoners behind bars. That was it. I had visited many prisons in my lifetime and only been behind bars once. That had been after my school prom. I had poisoned a bastard named Ricky Silvers after he had pushed his date into a puddle and then made out with her best friend. Gotta do what you gotta do, right? Maybe there is a small thread of good in me... Huh, who'd have thought?

What made this prison different from most, was the large amount of apathy. I deduced that this must come from our reputation. We were anamolies, they couldn't place us in a box or category. Therefore, whatever we did in this stronghold did not really matter, as long as we didn't break out of said stronghold. 

So, when I asked if Bart and I could sit at the same table as the Kray brothers for breakfast tomorrow morning, the guards just shrugged their shoulders and muttered an apathetic, "Whatever. Just don't kill anyone."

I lay in the top bunk of our cell, buzzing with excitement. I used to do illegal activities for fun, because I would get an unforgettable surge of adrenalin when I heard the police sirens or the piercing alarms. But, I had slowly lost interest in it. I preferred working peacefully at home, allowing others to experience that same sensation while I watched from behind a desk with a cup of coffee. Yeah, I would rob banks if I needed the money when I wanted a vacation. I would run out of restaurants without paying or hack into my neighbour's Wi-Fi. And, download music. I mean, who doesn't? One thing that I never stopped doing, is faking my death. That was far too much fun. One out one private criminals would recommend. 

Now, I was planning on breaking out of prison. This was new. I had done a lot of things, but breaking out of an FBI stronghold was not one of them. Also, I could not wait to see the look on the Kray's faces when we joined them for breakfast tomorrow. 

Even though my mind ran to far off places that night, my insomnia was eventually cured once Bart decided to talk to me about Aritfical Inteligence and how he would start a Communist Revolution. 

***

"Good morning, lads! How are we doing on such a delightful morning?" I asked, plopping my tray onto the Kray brothers' table. 

Bart followed close behind, with less conviction. 

"Sleep-Sleep well?" He stuttered. 

I rolled my eyes. Before we had entered I had reassured him that we had the upperhand and that they would not "give you a wedgie like last time." 

I wish I had the words to describe the look on their faces. Their expressions were the same as teenage boys who had been caught smoking weed. They knew they could not escape and they did not know what was about to happen to them. 

"What- what do you want from us?" they muttered in unison. 

The Kray brothers consisted of Alexander and Luis Heinermann. They were brothers born to a Hispanic mother and a German father. They were raised in Germany, which was evident from their strong accent. They were -or should I say had been- notorious criminals. After their mother went back to Puerta Rico, they were left with a father, who turned violent once brought into contact with cheap liquor. When their mother never returned, they decided they had had enough. One night, their father came home reeking of alcohol. He yelled abuse at them. He then started insulting their mother. Big mistake. 

Alexander, powered by rage, grabbed the closest thing -which happened to be a small table- and threw it at his father. This knocked him unconscious. Luis, then inspired by his brother's uprising, finished the job by stabbing his father with a butter knife until the life had drained from his eyes. Afraid of being arrested, they ran away from home and lived on the streets when Alexander was only 14 and Luis 16. 

Soon, they had built a reputation for themselves. They had competed in many street fights to earn some cash, and they had won every single one. Once Luis was 18 and Alexander 16, they had built their own street gang. Inspired by the Kray brothers who had been famous perpertrators of organized crime in the 1920s, they changed their name and therefore lost the only thing they had in connection to their father. Heinerman became Kray. And the Kray brothers become monsters. 

Eventually, they became known news headliners. Serial killers, frauds, thieves... their gang become the most feared in Berlin. They were only 24 and 22. Therefore, how could they have done this on their own? How could they have escaped every single police arrest? How had they organized their crime so well? Well, behind every puppet, there is a puppeteer. 

I helped them with at least ten organized crimes. Every one had ended successfully and I had been paid plentifully. However, one incident had made me absolutely furious, and I still have not forgiven them. 

Of course, I had given them an alias. One of those generic names. After their third bank robbing, they had grown bored with the same dull routine. It was at this point that they contacted me again, and asked me about murder. I gave them the quick run-down; what to do, what not to do. Two days later, they killed a minister. They wanted to become serial killers and something serial killers do is hide a common clue amongst each crime scene. Sometimes it is a note, or the same 'kill-style'. What they decided to do, was spray paint my website URL on the wall. What absolute morons. 

Soon after I was getting the best advertisement anyone could have asked for. My website was featured on every news channel, every newspaper. They killed three more until I had had enough. My website was put under heavy surveillance and I had to restart it 5638 times. It was awfully stressful. I was never caught, obviously, but I was mad. And if you make me mad, remember: I have snipers on speed dial. 

I did the only thing I could. I sent 84 different assasins on them. They evaded 76 of them. But I saw how they started to become paranoid. They realized they weren't safe anywhere. They peered around every corner and were armed to the teeth every minute of every. The last ten I sent at them all at once. 

Oh, it was delightful to watch. They fought with such strategy. However, they ended up loosing. They surrendered and I sent them to a woman who owned a freelance insane asylum. And let's just say, they were never the same again. I took pity on them and released them three months later. I sent three snipers after them, to make sure they didn't pull another stunt like that again. 

They continued to organize crime, and evaded capture. But, they did not consult me. I watched them closely, until I lost interest. They were just overestimated mortals. I had seen them at their weakest and never let them forget that. 

"Right, boys. Let's talk Shawshank Redemption." I suggested, smiling. 

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