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Vexed Milligram - The Chronicles of Milligan Hartfield.

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Posted (edited)

2016 November, unknown club in Palomino.




A gas of smoke mixed with vanilla and strawberry scent shake had met the tip of my nose before taking a sip of that sweet ass Long Island drink. The echo of the music that banged right in the Palomino was THAT swish. I remember turning over at my left and meeting a lank posterior of a man with sinewy and bulky face with a big 'fuck-off-from-here' slap on his expression.

"Yeah?" - another individual popped in right off the bat beside his alternative, pushing me to the side as if I was playing the submissive part, but as dominant as it sounds - I kept my cool like no trouble - yet those fucking ecstasy pills were driving my insides right off the bat. Maybe I intimidated them too much or they were looking for something.

"Yeah, bitch, bring it on, Jim Carrey looking motherfucker! " - nothing but a mere splash of the Long Island liquor poured all over at the slug-nosed face before laying the other guy on his feet as if Hitler himself rolled over the grave. It was just him and me left at the fight and I could've had an advantage there if it wasn't for those fucking pills - my jaw was moving so sizzling that I felt as if was eating a peachy ass fruit underneath a woman's navel.

A few punches here and there, a full-blown kick and a bottle to the teeth messed over my clothing as that crimson red stomped on my brown leather jacket. A shitty gift, bless God, I received last year from one of my co-workers when I worked in a Taxi cab, was completely musk in dirt. The blood poured right off from my mouth and it would've been a great call for me to knock out right off the bat if it wasn't for my Muay-Thai skills; I remember beating the guy up with a single, lucky punch right to his teeth and smashed him a couple of feet away. The Security already took notice and I was thrown out from the club.

MUSIC after he got kicked out.

I still remember how Drax's Amphetamine sang in my ears and my jaw was leering over at the girl with a tad skirt who laughed when I almost got my ass kicked.

Drunk, beaten up, loose on clothing and bloodied up, ripped apart and with no cash, I set forth to the bar which was on the other side of the corner which was only a ten second walk. Finding myself over at the handle as I felt that God is taking away my legs, the sober part of me was looking for some trouble to get dealt with. I felt my blood boil and I wanted more action because not only I beat up the poor fucker up, but he smashed my bulk in. 

I felt that someone was following me as the drenched expression from before came up with - the guy I beat up first was right over at my back and he smashed my head back right in before I could open the door from the bar.

I felt a oozing bump which brought pain to my sides, before me overlapsed a figure with a hideous expression on his face that brought trouble and hunger through its eyes. My Discern could check him through right inbefore the fight and I took him for a bloody bloodsucker - the kind that killed my girl.

I was burning with anger and I didn't want him to touch me, zap me, conceal me or devastate the further fate of what will happen.

I looked at the fucker right in the eye with that one half-squint and he had his knife already taken out." I dare you to move once step, fucker, before I slash off your balls and boil them until they ash."

A tingling sense of feeling struck down as I looked at his figure when he was a couple of feet away. The figure said something that he will kill me, but for some reason, he couldn't move THAT close to me and found it challenging to come near me. I swayed my glare up at him and right back up to the side, overconfident of my abilities, but he seemed to come closer. When I turned back my attention at him once again before drawing back at my dismay, I found his movements to be sluggish once at all.


I couldn't believe it, but if it was either a blessing by The Messengers themselves, or the foe was retarded-challenging his strove.


I didn't wait any second as fear pulled through my physique - a damp of sweat and stench brought to my attention when I strove through my arm, finding my dominant hand with a longer blade than his struck through his core; I slashed him once, looking at the figure and conspired it with a stab inbetween his heart, cleaving it through like pork-chopped meat.


Another slash, another bash and another whiz through its neck which left it crippled. With pain an horror, I fended off my hand over it and struck it over at the very corner near the avalaunched boxes, finishing the job as a true Hunter would - strucked lighter and a blow through his neck left its body rotting in ashed decay.


I crippled off from the scene to avoid it at all costs as some people saw me getting knocked by the guy. Rumors say that I bring nothing but trouble, but facts say this:

Every Hunters knows that I am blunt, but careful on who to deal with personally.



A some sort of loud bang emitted from the other side of the room that I lived in that brought the sound as if a hammer smashed a nail countless times without any disregard of stopping, echoes pulsating to the vibrant area of the dorm - but was broken in the process, the thing itself. My half-squint eyes pitched over as the signal was clear to me from wherever the obscure route has made its end… My breath, stench in mild alcohol flavor of whiskey from yesterday’s party was dimming away, but enough for me to wake up and blend over to my feet. My crooked smile pushed over with an abnormal facial that I felt when frowning upon the ticks that screeched over my ears as I knew what I would need to do, WILL know what would happen if I would sit my lay off my ass all of the remaining day - I'll miss the good old life of the San Fierro.

What the fuck was I dreaming though? Shit.

Edited by Lucid

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Posted (edited)


Milligan woke up from his slumber, jacked up through the outskirts of the other side from the garage where the train tracks lead through connections. A quirk of a grin hinted out that a loose blow of action will commence today. An individual - bulky as Batista, lank as a pole and pecker through a mild tanned skin bumped in through Milligan. He didn't want to have no trouble with the guy who was covering more than half of San Fierro's sky whilst facing, so he slurped through his cunning weapon - a silver tongue that spoke the words of the speech. 


Do note that Milligan Hartfield isn't a person that deeds to go quiet - the personality of his, hyperactive as it sounds, flushed through Charlie(later called 'Chuckie'), when they met and the ordeal began of the two of them. Befriending him in swift motions, Milligan offered him to mug a guy's house just a couple of blocks away, overheard of the rumours that the guy has a stash. Setting on forth, getting prepared like bastards-in-arms, the different descent guys were successful and met ends meet with a wad and some loot. 


Departing, they exchanged their contacts and knew that this is a sultry beginning of something new. 

















Edited by Lucid

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