" Mr. Truck get me monkey and a clip of kills, I'm going to that place," said a teenager with dyed black hair with a little silver at the edges. His hair was dyed so well aside from the silver at the tips that he had to tell you it was dyed before you'd notice.
The burly Mr. Truck glanced at the well toned 16 year old who was wearing blue contacts to cover up his golden pupils and shivered at the thought of monkey's sole use.
You see monkey was a gun specially made by this young man. It was created with the intent of destroying peaches with extreme pain and no casualties. It fired plasma bullets named Kill that incinerates the said peaches causing pain that would make you wish for death. It takes 15 years to heal from it.
'What did I do to end up working under this guy,' thought a very solemn Mr. Truck. "Your finally going there huh," he asked, the boy only nodded. Mr. Truck took out a briefcase with a picture of a monkey crushing peaches on it. The briefcase had a lock that needed a retina scan, finger print, voice recognition and a blood/DNA match to open.
Mr. Truck felt sorry for the poor soul who this boy was going after. He watched as the boy walked out put on his headphones and hoodie tapped his watch and walked down the street.
.....
The young man tapped his watch and started humming to the old song he found *'if you wanna join the cult, all you have to do is sing along' screaming fuck God like a lightning rod send my ass to hell let me fucking write ..... * he stared at the mansion in front with a smile as he opened monkey.
Monkey was a gun that looked like a glock and a sub machine gun had a kid. It was a pistol and on its grip there was an image of a monkey. He put in the clip of kills and went to work.
But before that let's see what led to all this.