Patrick was quite the show-off. His firm rock-hard chest couple with washboard abs. Still young, he thought the world existed for him. He was pissed when his candidate lost the presidency, so he decided he wanted to join Russia as a soldier.
(Yeah, right, as if we would permit someone so flaky to join our ranks.) After seeing his facebook posts and having one of our informants interview him, we decided to pay him a visit. He took us out to one of his sheds. It was set up with a gym and an armory. Quite impressive.
Once there, he showed us his stuff, proving his strength and how much we would be missing out on without him. My men were very impressed, as indeed, was I. However, he was all meat and no morals. He showed us his gun collection. He picked up one of his favorites and bragged how nobody could ever get past him when he had this bad boy with him.
That sounded quite like a challenge to me. "Oh yeah?" I said, studying one of the blades he had stored on the wall.
"Fuck yeah," he replied enthusiastically. "With these guns," he said kissing his biceps, "and this gun." He picked up his favorite piece, "I am invincible. I am immortal. I am a g....."
His words were cut short when I turned and chucked the blade at him, squarely nailing him in the navel. His muscles tensed as he stared, wide-eyed at my men. His faced reddened as he held in his breath, trying to resist the urge to show any pain.
I walked up to him and yanked the blade out of his gut. He arched forward and stumbled a little, holding one hand against the wound in his abs. I tossed down the blade. "Invincible, huh?"
He stared up into my eyes with a combined look of shock and anger. I grabbed his 'favorite bad boy' from his hands and emptied the magazine into his flesh. He twisted and shook from the pounding of each round until he fell to the floor in a heap of wasted man-meat.
He did prove some benefit for us. We now have a great new outpost.
Him with that big ass gun and all it took was a blade in his belly to end his reign of terror. Love it!
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