Posted at 5:19 am on Mar 21, 2016 by:
Deadblood (Undisputed Mortal Wrestling Champion)
Are we in the meth business, or the money business?
Stepping through what was left of the smoke, Deadblood and Sheri weren't quite ready for what they saw on the other side.
"Oh fuck naw!" Biggie Mac said, holding his side in pain. "Ya'll need to get da fuck outta here!"
Firing several shots at them with his diamond-encrusted gold pistol, his aim just as bad as his guards' aim, he turned around and waddled away from them, disappearing deeper into his mansion.
"Should we even bother chasing him?" DB asked as they cautiously stepped further into the room. "With all this excitement, he'll probably have a heart attack soon."
"If he doesn't trip over his own feet and break his neck first," Sheri said, holstering her Springfield.
In the silence, they could hear the loud thumps of Biggie's feet carrying through the mansion.
"I hope he's not headed to some kind of panic room," he said. "That will be a bitch to get into, even with your fancy powers and my explosives."
"By panic room, I'm assuming you mean pantry," she said, eying a row of portraits of Biggie himself, all featuring him holding various pieces of food.
DB found himself in front of a bust of Biggie. Before he could do something like knock it into the floor however, he heard more footsteps and shouting, coming for them.
"Sheri, we've got more company!" he said.
"Already on it!" she said as she sent a large, wooden bookcase crashing into the hallway they'd come from, effectively blocking it off for at least a little while.
Behind her, in the direction Biggie ran to, another group of guards ran towards them. They had no chance to send more poorly aimed bullets at them as every single book from the bookcase flew off and rained down on them, knocking all but one of them out. DB took care of that lone guard with a shot each from his revolvers, one to the guard's knee, the other to the guard's chest.
