After two months without any word from the Zetats, Tue was standing at Gio's gate. "Let me in, you little turd," he shouted as he rattled the very high gates.
It was Callum to answer the doorbell, and he was offended by Tue's tribal face tattoos. He was more afraid than anything. Only gangbangers or rappers ever got face tattoos, or this small subculture of people known as Kerayos, but they rarely left their home galaxy of Crizius.
"What do you want?" Callum staunchly choked.
"I'm here to see Gio. I'm one of his coaches."
Then, right in time, Gio made it to another answering cubicle to see it was Tue. "It's okay, Callum. He's one of my eating coaches my mom hired," he lied because Tue looked like he was good at eating massive quantities with his flabby arms and slightly pudgy belly.
"Your mom told me not to allow your visitors after what happened last year," Callum responded.
"Mom's not here," Gio asserted, "and you can't stop me from leaving. So, if you won't allow my eating coach to come in, we'll have to go elsewhere."
"Then leave," Callum spat, "I'm not disobeying your mother again!"
"Sounds like someone's got petite rancheros!" Tue laughed, "just meet me out here, Gio. I wouldn't want this dude's balls to grow."
Callum reddened. He was embarrassed, but he had to put up with six months without sex last time he blatantly disobeyed Emile's orders for when she was away.
The grounds were massive. As requested by Gio, there was a disc golf course, a golf course, a water park-esque pool, a soccer field, a basketball court, and a tennis court, and that was just the back back. The front yard was smaller, but it was large enough to where Gio elected to take a golf cart instead of walk it. The Jurgen's lived in luxury and style. As far as appraisals went, it was the second most expensive modern house on Hertha, practically all the old school castles appraised at more.
Making his way down to the main entrance, Gio quickly spotted Tue eating a quasel, which was a doughy tart infused typically with fruit, but his was a chocolate quasel.
Gio went through the toll booth station to get outside. They had the toll booth for when they held parties, so the attendant could check the guest list to see if he or she should let the person in. It was a small security item, especially with how many people wanted Gio dead, but the toll booth had been inactive for quite some time. Hardly any parties were being made in quite a while, not like when Gio was very young.
"What's up?" Gio asked as he shut the door that would automatically lock.
"You took out your chip," Tue shoved him.
"So?" Gio said as he gathered his stance, "I haven't even asked to be transported. I'm paying the Zetats over four million a year to do nothing about my security."
"That wasn't a good move, kid. You've opened up a lot of negative into your world. What are you gonna do if Viche shows up with his goons?"
"We've increases security measures at night," Gio argued.
"They better be assassin level good, because the Triwizards are trained well, better even than most assassins," Tue informed. "You're in deep shit, kid, but it's your funeral. There's been news that the Triwizards will make an attempt on your life before you play your first match. You need to be ready. Did... never mind?"
"No, what?" Gio encouraged.
"Tell me you at least kept the cloaking chip safe?"
"I did," Gio reassured.
