A story that surely will drive you crazy!
? Please be aware that some of the characters in the story are purely products of my imagination.
? I take ownership of this story as my own creation.
? CTTO of some of the pictures that will be used in thi...
I glanced at the car behind me through the side mirror, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. There, a man's head protruded from the window, his gaze fixed on my car as he aimed his gun with malicious intent.
"Of all the nights they could choose to interrupt me, they had to pick tonight?!" I exclaimed, my frustration evident in my voice.
Tonight was meant to be a special sleepover with my OG squad's girlies, and now it was being jeopardized.
With determination, I pressed down on the accelerator, increasing my speed just enough to entice them to follow. My plan was to lead them onto a quieter road, away from any potential witnesses or interference.
They were really getting on my nerves.
Another shot was fired, but I skillfully maneuvered my car, narrowly evading the bullet as it whizzed past.
The audacity of the person attempting to damage my car for the third time fueled my frustration.
Gritting my teeth, I pressed down harder on the accelerator, "I didn't work my ass off to get this car just for some ugly assholes to damage it. Goddammit," I muttered under my breath, frustration seeping into my words.
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Surveying the road ahead, I noticed that the area was significantly quieter, with no signs of pedestrians or people lingering near the establishments.
Taking a quick glance at the car behind me, I freed my right hand from the steering wheel and reached into the center console, retrieving my trusty Beretta 92 and its accompanying silencer.
"You don't want to mess with a Bruschweiler," I muttered, my focus split between attaching the silencer to my gun and maintaining the speed of the car.
With the silencer now assembled, I carefully place it in my lap and reach for my phone to make a call.
"Even their choice of car shows their stupidity. Who in the world would follow and shoot someone using a car without a tinted windshield? Estupidos," I mumble, managing to catch a glimpse of a bald man behind the wheel through the front windshield.
Or maybe they're just that brave to reveal their identities? Brave, huh? Why? Because they have some big-time people backing them up? Tsk.
After just a few rings, the person on the other end finally answers the call.
"Find my location immediately. I need you to clean up the mess I've stumbled upon," I assert firmly, not bothering to wait for a response before ending the call.
I toss the phone onto the center console and retrieve my gun from my lap.
With a mischievous smirk, I swiftly maneuver the steering wheel, executing a sharp 180-degree turn to face the car that has been tailing me. The tires screech against the pavement as my car gracefully pivots, positioning me directly in front of my pursuers.
