I'm Surrounded by Fucking Pendejos.

"Nahh hermano, I trust your judgement. Anyone who can lift a fuckin’ sub, Cruz missiles included must have at least some way to keep the assholes away." He chirped, taking a swig of his beer. Gesturing to the packing crate he’d taken the package from, he changed his tack.

"The last PD that came knocking on Vaas' front door sent home with no skin. No feds, no fuckin' FIB, no nothing. You're free to ship this shit wherever, hermano. By the way, fancy a sample?" At this comment, Vaas pull out two thick, tightly packed joints and tossed one to Franklin.

"You know what hermano? I like you. You're the first fuckin' pendejo to even think about standing up to me, and that takes fuckin' brass." He said, resting his booted feet on his desk as he lit his joint.

Baas followed him into the camp, grinning from ear to ear. Laughing as Corey showed off his rifle to anyone who would look' he took another heavy swing from his bottle.

"Hey, hermano! Don't expect to be getting and powder next month, you hear! And get hunting! Papi is fuckin' hungry!"

There’s only one throne, hermana, and that’s my ass print on the cushion.

Since when the fuck do you think you own everything, hmm? I am curious to know, enlighten me.

Since this is my island. My empire. My rules. *grins and offers a cigar*

Can’t fuckin’ complain, but there’s this pendejo loca who thinks this is her island stood in front of me.

[ squints eyes ]Maybe because it is also my island?

There's only one throne, hermana, and that's my ass print on the cushion.

*looks at disparagingly *

Eyy, hermano, how’s it gooooing?

Can't fuckin' complain, but there's this pendejo loca who thinks this is her island stood in front of me.

"I’ve got a few contacts in Korea, esé. They’d be more than happy to take this stuff off my hands. You get your boys bring those toys here. We’ll see how much you’ve got, and see what my buyers are willing to pay for it." Vaas said as he strolled back to his desk. Lumping...

"Nahh hermano, I trust your judgement. Anyone who can lift a fuckin' sub, Cruz missiles included must have at least some way to keep the assholes away." He chirped, taking a swig of his beer. Gesturing to the packing crate he'd taken the package from, he changed his tack.

"I got twelve of those crates, each with about 50kg in them. Street value of about $850k per crate. You shift them for me, you keep twenty percent. That's, what... two mil?"

Corey obeyed, on both accounts, rolling up two impressive three-skins after draining the bottle dry, setting it down neatly by the sofa.

"Vaas." He ventured quietly, carefully, passing over Vaas’ joint. "I want to do it again." He lit up and toked, exhaling with a sigh of relief.

Vaas raised an eyebrow over his hand as he lit his joint, staring at Corey. After a few seconds, he slowly got up and wandered behind his desk, where he pulled up four floorboards. From the exposed hold, he lifted a large wooden weapons crate. It had been a while since he’d remembered them last.

Dusting off the top, he opened it and pulled out a long, black case and a short sheath, both of which he gave to Corey.

"If you really want to, then here." He said, as he released the case of the sniper and the machete protector into Corey’s slender fingers.

Corey stared down at the weapons, lost for words for a moment. He opened the case and gazed down at the rifle, instant adoration in his eyes.

"Vaas…" Damn it. Each time Vaas managed to make Corey recoil from him, he later did something to reel him in twice as close. Corey was beginning to wonder if that was the idea. "Th-thank you!" He stuttered, toking hard on the joint clasped in his fingers to calm himself.

"L115A3. British sniper, about a mile range. That little thing can pop a bollock at 1800 yards though. Uses .223 rounds, so get stocked and go hunting. I want something to eat tonight, and you're gonna get it." Vaas said, sitting back in his chair. He looked incredibly pleased with himself as he threw Corey a few magazines from the crate.

"Go pick up a cleaning kit as well, and learn how to take her apart and reassemble her."

my relationship page is looking a little bare tbh

i should prob fix that

but who to add? ;O

*looks at disparagingly *

So maybe this wasn’t the way Hannibal had seen his ideal afternoon going, but he’d wiggled himself out of worse situations before. He’d always been pretty shitty at dying anyways. Getting the hell beat out of him on the other hand… Still, he trudged forward...

Vaas barrelled out of the undergrowth, slamming his head into the muscular man's solar plexus with the full force of his bodyweight behind it. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he toppled him into the dirt and rolled off, leaving the taller man behind him.

"Hello, sweetheart. Did I fuckin' startle you?" He chuckled in a weirdly high pitched, raspy tone. His voice sounded like someone dragging lead over granite, with all the softness and comfort of a guillotine. Turning back to the sprawled man as he picked himself up, he ran a hand over his shaven head and cracked his neck, a ripple of sharp pops filling the air.

"Care to tell me what the fuck you're doing sneaking around my island, hermano? What, you get lost? Took that left at Thailand?" He said, and again he chuckled. That strange, raspy voice reverberated between the trees as he glared at Hannibal in the same way a cat eyes a mouse with a limp.

Corey obeyed, on both accounts, rolling up two impressive three-skins after draining the bottle dry, setting it down neatly by the sofa.

"Vaas." He ventured quietly, carefully, passing over Vaas’ joint. "I want to do it again." He lit up and toked, exhaling with a sigh of relief.

Vaas raised an eyebrow over his hand as he lit his joint, staring at Corey. After a few seconds, he slowly got up and wandered behind his desk, where he pulled up four floorboards. From the exposed hold, he lifted a large wooden weapons crate. It had been a while since he'd remembered them last.

Dusting off the top, he opened it and pulled out a long, black case and a short sheath, both of which he gave to Corey.

"If you really want to, then here." He said, as he released the case of the sniper and the machete protector into Corey's slender fingers.

"Hey! Pendejo!" Vaas crowed, thumping the roof of the technical as a signal for the driver to stop. As the truck swerved to a halt, kicking up dust...

+5 are looking for trouble

Vaas thundered on, following the trail of broken branches and trampled plants. He hadn't even stopped for breath yet. His heart hammered in excitement as he began to hear the noises of a damn good escape attempt as the young woman continued running. He hadn't been on a chase in months.

"Bambina! Come back to papi!" He crowed as his feet continued drumming a steady beat on the jungle floor. He could almost hear her panting, and the ravine was coming up very, very quickly.

A grin lifted the corner of his mouth.

"That’d be me amigo. Since you ain’t wearing colours, I’m gonna say you’re either fuckin’ stupid, or you’re here for the business end of my lil’ operation." Vaas crowed, standing up and walking over to a large packing crate. After a few seconds of digging, he pulled out a...

"I've got a few contacts in Korea, esé. They'd be more than happy to take this stuff off my hands. You get your boys bring those toys here. We'll see how much you've got, and see what my buyers are willing to pay for it." Vaas said as he strolled back to his desk. Lumping himself into his old leather chair, he pulled up a floorboards and extracted two bottles of beer, one of which he tossed to Franklin.

"Now, since you and your bunch of trained fuckin' monkeys didn't get away clean, you gotta stay here until the deal is done. You leave early and end up bringing the fuckin' LS army to my fuckin' kingdom, you die. Besides," he said, pausing to pop the cap from his bottle with his teeth, "my island ain't that bad. Just don't fuck with my men or the locals. Outside of my jurisdiction, you're fresh fuckin' meat, esé."

Vaas blinked at Corey, his eyes not betraying a single ounce of emotion. Then, slowly, he began chuckling. It built up in intensity and volume, until Vaas, in a fit of hysterics, rocked back on his chair so hard that the legs gave out from underneath him, sensing him crashing to the floor. However, this did not quell his laughter.

"Fuck me, Menino, is that all? This shit ain’t like the movies, where every kill sends you into deep personal conflict! You’re not meant to feel anything the first few times. It protects you, asshole."

Corey wasn’t comforted. He hugged his knees, keeping his eyes downcast. Because feeling nothing felt good. It felt like peace. He was going to ask Vaas how it was for HIM, but thought better of it.

"I’m sorry, Vaas." he murmured dutifully to help ease the guilt squirming in his gut. His face was still red, an impressive handprint spread across one side.

"Don't fuckin' pull that again. And drink, you look like shit." Vaas said, clapping the blonde on the shoulder before throwing himself into his beaten up old chair. He drained his bottle and threw it through the only unbroken window, quickly rectifying the situation. Then, as a way of distracting Corey, he pulled out a large bag of green and threw it to the skinny blonde.

"Roll two. BIG ones."

Vaas was in his office, feeding the hefty pile of multiple notes that represented his profit into a sorting machine. As each handful was separated into various stacks of different currency, he took them and dumped them into a cash counter. After a while, he sat down and...

"That'd be me amigo. Since you ain't wearing colours, I'm gonna say you're either fuckin' stupid, or you're here for the business end of my lil' operation." Vaas crowed, standing up and walking over to a large packing crate. After a few seconds of digging, he pulled out a foot square package of Rook Island's finest green.

"I take it it's business?" He said, tossing the package to Franklin.

Vaas blinked at Corey, his eyes not betraying a single ounce of emotion. Then, slowly, he began chuckling. It built up in intensity and volume, until Vaas, in a fit of hysterics, rocked back on his chair so hard that the legs gave out from underneath him, sensing him crashing to the floor. However, this did not quell his laughter.

"Fuck me, Menino, is that all? This shit ain't like the movies, where every kill sends you into deep personal conflict! You're not meant to feel anything the first few times. It protects you, asshole."

Vaas stomped past him with a bottle of liquor In his hand before backtracking and looking down at him. The blonde seemed to be shying away from him. He couldn't be having that. Seizing him by the upper arm, he started walking back to his abode, half leading, half dragging Corey along with him.

Since they were inside, he sat the Englishman on the sofa and walked over to his liquor crate. Pulling out a short, stout bottle of amber liquid, he handed it to Corey and pulled up a chair, straddling it opposite him.

"Now. What the fuck happened out there, pendejo? You ain't never disobeyed me, and I don't take kindly to it. The only reason you're not keeping Buck company is because this was your first offence."