12
I’m sixteen years old, going on seventeen, and I think I’m the baddest motherfucker around. I’ve finally hit my growth spurt, shooting up to six feet, although I haven’t started to fill out yet. Sitting in a little bistro booth at the close of business with my brother, Dryas, I’m waiting for Uncle to call us to be of service.
Usually, Dryas and I just go around and collect the protection fees from local businesses, which is uneventful. But sometimes someone will get salty about paying. That or Uncle will call us in to help with a hit.
That’s what I live for, doing violent things to people who deserve them. Or don’t deserve them, I really don’t care. I just love the sound of bone-crunching, of fists smacking flesh, of a bullet exiting the back of somebody’s head full force.
But at th
