"Man these gas masks are damn annoying." Benji complained to Ameliano, who was currently in The process of pouring liquid phosphate into a biometric flask. "By all means take it off Ben, take it off and I'll laugh when ya god damn face melts off, what you didn't get the memo that cookin' ain't too healthy? Buddy that sucks for you." Ameliano replied, his words damp with sarcasm. I'm sick and tired of this goddamn bullshit, why the hell did Boss partner me up with this reject? This boys too soft for this life, cooking drugs ain't rainbows and lollipops, thought Ameliano. The putrid fumes of this new recipe engulfed Ameliano's nose, the chemical soaked scent being so powerful as to seep through and under his gas mask. Damn this stuff is strong, Boss must be really desperate for costumers, thought Ameliano, mentally commenting on the fact that their Drug Lord issued a new Kristal recipe, supposedly more cost efficient and powerful. "Yo Ameliano where the hell's the--"
"FREEZE, HANDS IN THE AIR." The carrying voice layered with entitlement came with the crashing boom of falling wood, the door being barricaded down. Ameliano had only the time to think a self-deprecating shit before being cuffed and man handled out of the building, no doubt on his way to the police station and ultimately prison. With that, as Ameliano and Benji unwillingly tread up the basement stairs, the toxic fumes coming from the chemistry lab float up to a corner, being absorbed by a deadly black mass hiding behind the shoddy maroon paint job.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Mold
Science FictionAfter moving to small town Oregon in an attempt to escape her abusive and borderline psychopathic father, 17 year old Arabelle, with the company of her mother and younger sister, finds herself suffering from an unidentifiable ailment. Although expo...
