RED PARALLEL

Chapter 43: I Got Skills, Mothafucka

Song: Smoke My Dope, by Steve Aoki and Lil' Uzi Vert.

Of course they wouldn't believe him so easily, so they took him to a field that seemed more like an airplane railway. It was night, and Traviz asked himself if he should start running now and bail, but something felt very intriguing. And scary. He had never tried to escape from bullets, so...

The SUV parked near a big set of walls and spots with circles and marks. The two niggas grabbed a large case and opened it. Traviz's mouth dropped. Rifles and guns in all sorts of sizes and lengths and shapes, and a set of what the fuck knives and pointy terrible shits. He quickly tried to hide his shock. Tough times, tough faces.

First, the walls. They simply said "Go.", and Traviz, like a sudden well-trained dog, darted toward the walls and sprang. Technically, it was all a matter of taking the right impulse and measuring the balance, but those boring mathematics shits would never cross his mind because he would never let them. Ridiculous. Thanks to the extra beef, Traviz tried a new kick and push move, right in front of them, from the top of the tallest wall, and landed perfectly, feeling a delicious juice of endorphin inside him. A.k.a, 'The Vibe'.

Baby, how I missed ya...

Second, the dog. One of the niggas picked a huge nice shiny Doberman from their SUV, and damn, the dog was mad angry. Barking like a maniac. Barking to him. Gretta gave it the order to attack Traviz, and before he could 'prepare' himself, they released the dog. Traviz kicked his ass out in a jump and ran for good, the berserk dog on his tail, fangs wild loaded. Gretta yelled, "If you climb any wall, game's over!" So he kept running to the infinite, the SUV at his side. After a few meters, the SUV turned right and Traviz had to turn right, too. He was not allowed to go too far. The dog was like a leopard, but yeah, he was a faster one. But leopards get tired, so he started jumping at the end of each sprint. Just like Aaron would do. Some mortal kick back jump. And it worked because the dog went dizzy and almost tripped. Gretta said stop and the dog magically got out of the berserk mode, like a perfect robot. Traviz sat on a chair, trying not to show he was about to collapse from exhaustion after a twenty-minute race session, and the Doberman came close. Wagging its tail. Go figure.

"You're doing well, sweetie."

Third, the aim. That would be a piece of cake.

Well, not much. They gave him a medium size gun, and frankly, that was damn scary. The steel was cold and that shit was heavier than he thought it was, but he tried not to show strangeness. C'mon, he was being tested. He had to pass the 'I gotta impress them' exam in order to fuck the world and not die tied in a fluffy pink room, looking all day at a pineapple bitch. So the niggas raised the aims and he shot.

Well, shit.

The gun would jolt back and he missed all the targets. By far. It was like the niggas were anxiously waiting for Traviz's first failure because they roared in laughter. Aroused, Traviz held the gun like a boomerang and threw it at the farthest and thinnest target with full power. The result: a crashed-broken-ruined target, a cracked pistol, dozen punches in the stomach, and a grin in Gretta's detestable face. With a dramatic motherfucker 'like a boss' spirit, Traviz reached for the case of weapons - the niggas pointed their guns, alert - and shot the knives, cutting the boards right in the center.

Eat this, pineapple bitch.

"Want a burger?" Gretta asked. "Let's take a break, I gotta make a call."

It was delicious. The dog liked it, too. Traviz dropped some pieces of meat on the ground, impressed with how could it be the same dog that had tried to eat his ass a few minutes ago.

You remind me of someone, buddy...

You're damn fast, aren't ya? But I won, motherfucka. You ain't got nothing on me.

Fourth, the dog. The dog? Cobe, the nigga who was fond of opening the SUV's window regardless of his partner's yells, grabbed the Doberman - it was still eating the burger Traviz had 'donated' - and fastened the leash around the SUV's wheel. Gretta handed Traviz another gun.

"Kill it," she said, then sat at her large chair as if ready to watch TV.