Posted at 5:01 am on Sep 15, 2015 by:
Deadblood (Undisputed Mortal Wrestling Champion)
I once saw one of those things sitting behind the wheel of a car in D.C. trying to drive down Independence Avenue. It didn't make me want to be its friend.
Deadblood kept his Desert Eagle aimed at The Driller. The Driller, Mr. Williams, seemed to be out of tricks. Seemed to be ready to give it up. He was hunched over his loot from that evening.
"Do you know why you nor anyone else is going to stop me?" The Driller remained facing away from DB.
"Keep talking, asshole. You've got nowhere left to go!" DB stepped closer until the barrel of his gun was less than a foot away from The Driller.
"Because money doesn't blind me like it does the rest of you!" Gripping one of the heavy bags of money, The Driller lifted it and threw it into DB's face.
Deadblood fell back onto the controls, dropping his gun, the bag rolling down on his body slightly to his chest, effectively pinning him down. The entire machine lurched forward again, the drill running at full power.
Outside, Sheri could only watch as the drill dug not into the ground but into one of the endless rows of junk cars. There were sparks as metal ground on metal, cars falling onto the machine as it smashed through lower ones, bouncing off of its armor without leaving even a dent. Her own gun still drawn, she tried to follow the machine as it tore through the junkyard.
Inside, the sudden movement apparently caught The Driller off-guard as he was thrown back against his loot. He quickly recovered and scooped up DB's gun. Pulling the money bag off of DB, The Driller threw him forward to stop the machine. DB didn't try to get back up and The Driller started to climb out of the hatch.
Sheri saw him and raised her gun. He slid down the side of the machine closest to her to the ground.
"Careful! He has my gun!" DB shouted from inside the machine.
Spinning around at that moment, The Driller fired DB's gun at her. She fired her gun as well while trying to avoid being shot herself. They both missed each other. However, her bullet struck something else that proved to be just as effective.
"My face! My face! MY FACE!" She saw The Driller quickly crumple to the ground. Her bullet apparently struck a hose exposed after going through the cars that powered the drill itself, sending a blast of steam right into The Driller's face, severely burning the flesh.
As the steam died down, Deadblood climbed out of the machine and slid down the other side. Retrieving his gun from The Driller's loose grasp, he approached Sheri.
"Found your jewelry." He removed his cell phone from the bag before handing the rest to her. He looked back at The Driller, who still wasn't moving, face down in the dirt, hiding the damage done. "Good shooting."
"Lucky shooting." She turned away, having seen enough of The Driller, or what was left of him.
"We better call for the police before we get out of here. An ambulance too I suppose." He put his phone away, instead heading to the junkyard's office to use the phone in there for anonymity.
Once back on his motorcycle, they left The Driller, his machine, and the loot for the police to find and deal with themselves.
I once saw one of those things sitting behind the wheel of a car in D.C. trying to drive down Independence Avenue. It didn't make me want to be its friend. - Deadblood (Undisputed Mortal Wrestling Champion) - 5:01:45 AM on 09/15/2015
