Dolly squeezed the trigger releasing the rest of the Uzi’s ammunition. When the Uzi had run out of bullets, she noticed that Mikey was still standing. “If there’s a bulletproof vest underneath, I’ll just finish you off with my bare hands.” He revealed that his death was prevented by that very cocoon of Kevlar, now past usable condition. She reached for Carlyle’s oilpaper umbrella weapon, but was stopped by McRay. “We’ll finish him off for you. Besides, me and Catya hate Jersey Shore fans with a fervent passion.” He, Charlie, Luke, Sydell and Catya each looked at each other knowing what to do with Mikey.
Sydell and Luke teamed up to drain Mikey’s strength slowly but with brutality. The strikes from Sydell’s kanabo had struck his abdomen enough to have blood being coughed up from his mouth. Luke’s fists had added to that along with bruising along to the ribcage. “Oh don’t think you’re dying yet.” Sydell said. Sydell said. Before he could regain his stance, Mikey was subdued by McRay and Charlie. Catya made it known that Mikey’s death would be any synonym of cruel and macabre. “Let’s just tear this goddamn vest off of you. There! Now you’re fit for the ‘Mojave Sarcophagus’.”
“What the fuck is that?” he asked. Her answer started with a punch to his throat. She then disemboweled him, before directing McRay and Charlie to come and destroy him further. McRay grabbed separate ends of his intestine, before pinning each end with rusted pipes. Charlie then jettisoned him into the gaping hole. Due to the pipes being properly grounded in Mikey’s intestines, he only hung inches from the ground below. Like those who had been inane like he was, Mikey climbed up trying to give his death some dignity. He was close to bucking that trend of failure, until Dolly pulled her gun to his head.
“Just die, you sack of DNA. I ran away with good reason, and there’s nothing you can do or say to sway me emotionally.” As he attempted to speak, Dolly shot him between his eyes and Mikey descended to his death. The fall was great enough to break his intestine ends from the pipes. “Serves you right.” She said under her breath. The crew made it back to their base, but as opposed to their routine headed to “the room” to converse. “I didn’t think I’d want to bring this up, but we all know there’s no other option for us.” McRay said. “We should let Dolly and Sydell in on this.” Charlie said. McRay went on to explain what they feared to bring up again. “Before her death, Mama Joseph told us to increase our verbal onslaught. She would always say, ‘Physical might seem important; yet it’s verbal that always does the job with the least amount of blood on you’...”
“Parlez-vous English, you pretentious sod?” Dolly interjected. “...she added, ‘Think of it like this...Sex is good, but you tire of it eventually. Dirty talk is what makes it go on for so much longer.’ One of the things she left us was a mega anthology of insult collections. If we tired of this, we were instructed to abandon the squadron code and become a league of snark.” Dolly chimed, “So instead of ‘mercenaries’, she wanted us to become a Friars club?” “Pretty much; as long as we stop the attacks one day, she even said we could be rejects for a singing competition.” McRay said. “Well, then we would need an actual final score. Something really, really momentous to cap off the life.” Catya said. They skimmed through the phone, hoping that something could rev their engines one last time. Longer than usual, the crew kept skimming through the streaming “news”.
“These are all good in theory, but nothing seems to have that ‘oomph’ factor. That and nothing seems to be worthy of being the final score.” Charlie noted. Then a thought came to McRay. “Isn’t this awards season?” he asked. “Yeah it is...our final score should be vanquishing hordes, whores and industry people at an awards show!” Catya began. “Wait, which one?” “Like you actually have to ask.” Sydell said.
The LMFAO horde phone however, informed them that their first choice for the final score had been cancelled for the year. “So...the organizers of the Grammys decide to back out of the limelight.” Luke said. Just then, a very fulfilling supplement made itself noticed. “Oh hello...” Luke began. “Looks like the VMA’s will still be in effect. This’ll more than satisfy our finite quest for carnage.” The sextet set out to finish one last job.
Along the way, McRay noticed a more disheveled looking Liam on the side of the road. “What happened? Your coalition didn’t abandon you did they?” Liam replied, “Chill out dude. My comrades personally sent me to help you out on their behalf.” “Is it because they somehow deified us?” Luke asked. Liam again replied, “In a sense, but mainly because they think it’s about time you fight for another group of people apart from satiating a bloodlust against things surrounded by hype.” Catya grabbed Liam by his collar and threw him in the dune buggy. “Click it or ticket smartass!” she said.
Countless hours later, the now septet arrived at the grounds in which the VMA’s were being held. Knowing that needless security was provided at event types like this, they each turned to their disguise. “This better be damn good, McRay. I shouldn’t even know how zebra print looks on my body!” Catya shouted. “Chill out you goddamn maniac!” he replied.
“We just have to get through this until most of these acts come through; then we strike.” “Well these fuckers better get here soon. Luke and Charlie seem to be losing it fast.” She replied. It turned out that their first target was the pre-awards opening act. The correspondent announced, “Here to perform their new single ‘Clap that Bootyhole (Like a Seal)’...L-M-F-A-O!” Another field reporter made the septet aware of another target. “Not so fast, broski. Here to join them with her new single ‘Onomato (Please Ya)’...Nicki Minaj!” Liam nudged Dolly and whispered, “We should be getting the go-ahead soon.” Dolly reluctantly whispered back, “There’s about to be another target on stage.”
Sadly, a third reporter announced that a third target was joining the budding cacophony. “Hold on there, you crazy kids you. Joining them with his new single ‘Have I Mentioned Miami Yet?’...Pitbull!” Sydell, Catya, Luke, Charlie, Liam and Dolly each gave a commanding gaze to McRay. He knew that the tension and anticipation was reaching a feverish apex. “Before you devolve into beasts...” he began. “...just remember that crotch shots will not be encouraged this time. Alright; go in.” The bedlam that ensued made every prior massacre look like a coloring book. Every effort to suppress the septet ended in maimed failure. Security and devotee alike were inane enough to try and put up a fight.
The ambiguously douche duo stepped towards Catya. The afro sporting douche said, “Can’t you simmer, quit being a dimmer, be my ho and clap that bootyhole...like a seal?” Catya retorted, “Roses are red; violets ain’t blue. Do us all a favor and shut the fuck up you tool!” She then threw her blade in the air, then grabbed it and proceeded to slice the afro sporting douche in half. “Unless you want a taste of the ‘Sicilian Yo-Yo’, I suggest you die now.” She said to the other half of the ambiguously douche duo. He tried to flee but by his third step, Catya had decapitated him.
Dolly and Liam were busy fighting Pitbull. Every time he charged, Dolly clocked him in the jaw. “You single-handedly make geography weep when you mention these places in your songs!” Liam said. Dolly added, “Your cries will be heard from Brazil, Morocco, London, Ibiza, L.A., New York, Vegas...Africa and all the other places you sullied, you bastard!” Pitbull attempted to roundhouse Liam, but when his leg neared him Dolly shot him in the knee. She then whispered to him, “You deserve this so much.” Dolly then cracked his neck ensuring his death. To add her signature of insult to her kill counts, she picked up his corpse and threw him into oncoming traffic. “Nothing like a ‘Carthaginian Ragdoll’ to finish off a kill.” She said.
McRay, Charlie, Luke and Sydell were left to deal with the biggest source of their frustration, Nicki Minaj.
Despite her being their most deplorable foe, they knew attacking without strategy would be less than ideal. The enemy began to speak; her ramblings may have been audible yet the words sounded like the sirens of Odysseus’s voyage once revealed. “Tom tom like in Lebanon; Hodda den in Pakistan; waba dee waba...wab wobble wobble. Money a sharon o.t. wine it, wine it! Raaaaaaah! I’m a motherfucking monster!” Luke wondered, “How does that qualify as legitimate talent?” The beast spoke again, “Pink wig, thick ass; give ‘em whiplash...no really really I don’t give a F-U-C-K.” McRay knew better than to let something like this from continuing. He struck her jaw, but not even the blood dripping from her mouth could silence her guttural cries. “Just killed another career, it’s a mile day. Besides ‘Ye they can’t stand besides me...I think me, you and ‘Am’ should ménage right tray.”
Charlie and Luke each added a roundhouse kick to her stomach and mid-back respectively. Even that couldn’t suppress her from another spewing of inane ramblings. Sydell decided to toy with this “Barbie”. “Where do you think you’ll end up when you finally die?” She queried. The beast let out her most bone grating cry. “On the island of Waikikiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Sydell replied with a “Ukrainian Face-lift”. Her kanabo had made contact with Nicki’s mandible; the remnants of her facial features left the grounds redder than the carpet.
When Nicki collapsed signifying her lifelessness, the crew took it on themselves to inspect the grounds. “Check every square foot of this Petri dish of bastardized humanity.” McRay began. “No one can be spared, or else the final score won’t be finite.” Two and a half hours later, collective assessments had become concrete findings. “We checked everywhere in these grounds.” Catya began. “Everyone that showed up will now have to be mentioned in the past tense.” McRay queried, “Any casualties we didn’t brag about yet? Kings of Leon being ‘dethroned’ by decapitation? Lady Antebellum with at least deteriorated cerebellum?”
Charlie replied, “That and Arcade Fire is up in flames. That motherfucker Bon Iver went au revoir...” Luke added, “Justin Bieber is pretty much ‘sleeping’ like a ‘baby’. Nicole Scherzinger pretty much ran out of ‘breath’ to hold...” Sydell added further, “The last rose Wiz Khalifa will have on him won’t be Amber anymore and J. Cole won’t work out shit anymore.”
She then noticed Dolly wasn’t in the immediate vicinity of the crew. “Dolly?” she said. “Please give some type of indicator of you being alive please.” Catya had sighted and locked eyes with Dolly, whose eyes were flowing with despair. “Liam lost big fight with ‘Noel’. He saved me from rabid ‘beliebers’...and I hate him for doing so.” Sydell remarked, “Nobody like him was knowledgeable that dying a hero’s death is utter ineptitude.”
“I know I shouldn’t be emo over it!” Dolly began. “If anything, I should be pissed off...but I can’t help but feel something they call...what’s that ‘A’ word that causes fear in man?” “Alimony?” Charlie said. “A...set of twins; the nine months to birth variety?” Luke said. “What about Arizona?” Sydell said. “No I think its AIDS.” McRay said. “It does strike fear in man, but so does your pattern of being a goddamn philistine.” Catya replied. “Now I remember.” Dolly began. “I can’t help but feel affection for him.” McRay, Charlie and Luke shivered in horror. “Try avoiding that word from here on out. My rectum puckered like sour candy shoved up inside it.” Charlie said.
“In all seriousness though, affection isn’t what you feel.” Catya said. Dolly looked her in the eyes and shouted, “I’m a 15 year old runaway, you bitch. Let me think this is affection ok?!” “It’s more so guilt than affection. If you two fucked then it could possibly be affection.” Catya replied. “Well we should at least place him next to Carlyle.” Dolly said. Sydell had to tell the crew the status of the coroner’s office as the LMFAO horde phone said. She felt like a bitch, but knew it needed to be done because the news was gaining traction. “The coroner’s office is being raided.” “What the fuck for?” Luke asked. According to the horde phone, a scandal over a post on FaceBook was to blame.
“I knew FaceBook would be the death of that place; fuck ‘em all even if their death is slow.” She said. “I just got an idea...all we need is a vat of fat and gasoline.” Catya said. “Which restaurant do we get the fat from?” Charlie asked. “I know this is the U.S., but still...” After acquiescing a vat of fat from Porky Pine’s American and BBQ Station, the crew set out to an abandoned Radio Shack at Sydell’s whim. “I know this place is abandoned, but shit!” McRay began. “My sense of consumerism just went to virtually nothing.” “If you’re done making ‘brilliant remarks’, I’ll explain just why I dragged us here.” Sydell said.
“This Radio Shack in particular, was always the target of irate customers. Refunds were never given; clerks never feigned interest; and the selection? Two words...bitch...please.” “So we’re drenching Liam in lard, pouring gas over that and setting a Radio Shack on fire for ‘justified’ reasoning?” Dolly rhetorically asked. “Doesn’t that violate at least one human right?” “Not if it’s a Radio Shack. It was never trendy, but damn it sucks.” Sydell replied. “Yeah.” McRay began. “Besides, don’t you know the Hazelnut Creamer Decree?” “What in the name of Black Jesus are you babbling about?” she asked. “It’s where an element of something not too illegal can be covered up sweetly.” “You watched that episode of The Simpsons again haven’t you?” Dolly replied.
“Yeah, but in this case burning down a Radio Shack can be forgiven by the law of nature.” He replied. “Any who, let’s get the hell out of here. Peace Liam...you’ll be in your room away from your parents forever.” Luke said. Catya, Charlie and McRay smacked him in the head and said, “Now we have nothing to say you asshole!”
Dolly paid her respects to Liam one last time before Sydell urged the crew to follow a peculiar set of instructions. “Leave now while I finish everything here.”
The crew was in the dune buggy as instructed by her. “I fear what she means by this...” Dolly began. “It sounds like she...” Before she could finish, her intuition proved valid. When the crew turned to see the Radio Shack engulfed in flames, they knew what Sydell had done to herself.
The crew was reduced to only five, but oddly an insensitive consensus was reached. “So the selfish bitch wanted death that badly. Serves her right for being that needlessly maudlin.” Catya said angrily. Hours later, the quintet returned to their still unscathed base. McRay took Charlie and Luke to his bed for one last session of “two in and on one”. “I know I’ll have to pick one of you to be my man. Playing pimp was fun, but that thing beating in my chest took on its metaphorical form...” he began. Charlie and Luke cut off his speech and said in unison, “Just give it to us like we’re charity.”
Their romp was strong enough to leave a slight indention in the sound barrier. The scent of enticed men filled the air and would go on to stain the covers. “I love the fact that you can compensate your insecurities through sex...If you were only better at talking through your problems with that warm mouth of yours; you’d only be ten notches below perfect.” Charlie said. “Oh shut up and rest on me.” McRay replied. “He has a point you know...” Luke added. “I felt each of yours...oh you’re concurring with him...my mistake. Seriously, both of you zip it and just lay with me.”
Time had allowed seven months and three weeks to elapse to coincide with changes made in the crew’s condition. At the two month and three week mark, the quintet had established enough gravitas to cast away their weapons to the storage unit for much needed rest. At the five and one half month mark, McRay’s decision had been made for him. Luke had removed himself from the group of his own volition. At first, McRay had nearly succumbed to displaying a variation of devastation. The scent of Charlie as he offered solace to him changed that.
His essence of natural aroma and Febreze Sky and Linen spray, felt like every other time of embrace. “Goddamn...this vice you have on me feels like cotton picked from the Egyptian Delta. Point is, let’s add the bed, subtract our clothes, divide the cheeks and thank God we can’t multiply.” He said.
“Chill out, Sugarcane. We’ll fuck in roughly ten seconds. Patience turns me on too.” Charlie replied. From the seven month and three week mark onward, the crew lashed out at the public using vernacular instead of brawn. Trend-whores never stood a chance against them. For anyone ignorant enough to mar the grounds with their existence, the experience afterwards branded their ass with shame. However, there were those in the public that shared the sentiments of the crew.
Any of those envisioned as a select few, were led inside the bookstore by Dolly. “Look around; just find something to do to get away from the public.” McRay and Charlie would often have to act as bodyguards over Catya. Her shift against the public would often turn heinous. This time, a band of unruly hipsters were attempting to sling effronteries against her.
Even Catya knew better than to use cheap tactics in early rounds. The band’s spokesperson had a significant lapse of retention in that area. The words bitch, ho, shit-for-brains and even the C word Levi used before his death made fifteen appearances. Eventually Catya emerged victorious when mentioning that HipsterRunoff was, “...about as valuable to society as genocide and about as classy as warfare.”
The band scurried off along with the throngs of inane and ignorant people alike. “Today’s bouts went on much too long. I usually make them cry a lot quicker.” She said.
“Quit your bitching, woman.” McRay replied. Catya fired back, “Just remember that I can make your member a thing of the past.” “Nicely done crazy eyes.” Charlie said. “That’ll suffice as congratulations you goddamn smartass. Now go check on Dolly.” She retorted.
McRay and Charlie both went to the incubation room to find Dolly holding a t-shirt not originally lying around. “We shouldn’t ask whether or not it was his, should we?” Charlie asked. McRay replied, “We could but we already know the answer.” “Oh...hey you two.” Dolly meekly said. “I can explain the t-shirt...” “No need to explain shit to us.” McRay began. “Sorry to add cheesiness to this scenario, but we know that of all the things that have accrued traction, love is still something that has yet to become a dying trend. Unlike its cousin, chivalry; that shit’s been dead for at least four centuries.”
She replied, “That’s sweet of you, but goddamn...you became so cheesy I think you came Velveeta.”