Fisty & Spood's Excellent Adventure!

Fisty & Spood's Excellent Adventure! (closed)

(This thread is based in the GTA universe with original characters. Closed for Trucken and Kattdclaw.)

Chapter 1 - Viva Los Santos!

Kris McQuay stood outside the airport terminal at Los Santos International Airport with nothing but a leather jacket, a duffle bag and a disappointed look on her face. The first thing that hit her when she stepped through those sliding glass doors was the heat, my God the heat! She hadn’t been expecting that, which was obvious by her attire of jeans and a leather jacket. Perhaps she should have been expecting it, but thinking that far ahead and doing research simply wasn’t the way that she did things. Having grown up in Carcer City she was use to the cold climate. Besides, anytime she needed warming up she could just take a stroll by the flaming river and enjoy the glow. But here, everything was so different and bright. It would have been intimidating to anyone else, but Kris was too thick headed (or stupid) to be intimidated. Instead she cleared her throat, snorted sharply and spat a glob of phlegm on the sidewalk and pushed her sunglasses onto her brow.

“This place smells like shit.” She said in her customary angry tone, low and velvety and full of angst. Kris always seemed one step away from snapping, that was when she wasn’t currently flying off the handle. Kris the ‘Fist’, or Kristi the Fisty, had issues with anger management. But then again her nickname was The Fist, so, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. She came from proud, poor, dumb Irish stock and she displayed that with each breath she took. Standing at an impressive five foot nine inches tall, Kris was truly a sight to behold. Her hair was naturally an orange-red hue, though she often times dyed it a bright, vivid red. At the moment just her bangs and temples were dyed red, the rest that wasn’t shaven the natural coloration. At the moment it was all stuffed underneath the ragged baseball cap with the logo of The Carcer City Unicorns emblazoned on the front. Her eyes were an intense shade of amber, smoldering at times, frightening to look into when she was in one of her moods. The dark lashes and mascara only made them all the more alluring and at the same time severe. The cocky look on her ravishing visage looked like it belonged there, too much attitude for one hot babe. She had numerous piercings, a few in her ears and one through the middle of her bottom lip. The rest of Kris was just as stunning as her head. She had a tall and powerful frame, taut and toned from the hard life constantly on the streets. Despite the impressive musculature she retained her feminine figure, with a bustline that was more than ample, a tiny waist and sleek hips with a subtle but undeniable curve, and of course one hell of a derriere.

Her attire was simple, torn faded jeans, heavy combat boots and a tight fitting T-shirt that ended before the subtle flare of her hips, giving a tempting display of the toned inner core and stomach. Typically she would be packing heat, but it was too hard to smuggle them through security at the airport, so she would have to settle for her backup weapon, a pair of spiked brass knuckles. Of course they were stuffed and hidden away in her duffle bag, so retrieving them would take some time. And that was time she didn’t have.

With a loud and overly dramatic sigh Kris tossed her bag down and shrugged off her jacket, revealing the impressive physique, bare and proud shoulders and the sleek yet powerful muscles of her arms.

“We got twenty bucks. I’m hungry, tired, with no protection, no place to crash and absurdly sober. We gotta do sumthin’, Spood…and quick.” Her voice trembled with the barely contained emotions. It wasn’t so much a complaint as a warning. Only then did she turn to regard the man that had been following her the entire time. They had been together since before she could rightly remember. Trav, or Spood as he liked to be called, was her best and closest friend. Of course, he was her only friend; very few people could stand to be around the volatile bitch for longer than they absolutely had to. Together the two had caused all kinds of havoc in their home town, though as the times changed the two had gotten too big for their breeches.

Together the two were a dangerous pair, they weren’t smart by any means, but they had a low cunning and street smarts that made them very dangerous. Growing up together they had been nothing but a bad example for the other, though it seemed to work for them. Once the time came to graduate from highs school, the two were there if only to sell some smack to the idiots in their caps and gowns. By then they were already dealing, well on their way to a lucrative career as street thugs. It was all uphill from there! At least for awhile. The two were smart enough to pull off a few liquor store robberies without shooting anyone or themselves. The cash was decent enough, though it wasn’t something they could depend on for a prolonged period of time. Things got tough, shop vendors got smarter and the streets got tougher. It was then that one of them had the bright idea to travel to the city of opportunity, Los Santos! The idea was perfect, no doubt people of their prolific talents could bank big time out there in the land of plenty. Nothing but tits and sunshine! And smog, and stupid, stupid people. And this fucking heat!

“Fuck it’s hot out here!” Kris proclaimed as she fanned herself and stomped her boots. The more they stood around the more pissed she became. So far she had put no thought into anything further than buying two tickets to paradise and skipping town. Now that they were here, well, maybe they should have given some thought to exactly what they were going to do. They had no money, to place to stay, no prospects and absolutely no contacts. Her hands slid to her hips and she strode towards the curb. The cars were coming and going, along with a multitude of people. They ranged in appearance, all shapes and sizes under the rainbow. Many of the women that weren’t obvious tourists seemed more plastic than flesh. But hey, those were some perky breasts! Kris watched a rather large pair bounce and jiggle past, momentarily distracted by the sight of such lovely flesh. She wasn’t picky when it came to lover, hell, if it was cute and had a pulse, she was all over that. It was just part of that chaotic nature, one that was easily distracted but always quick to return to the one thing she knew so well: anger.

"This place smells like shit."

Travis "Spood" Rhodes sniffed the air when he heard Fisty's comment, squinting because of the bright sun that reflected off every possible surface right into his eyes. At least that was how it felt, truth was that he was tired from the plane ride and was extra sensitive to the light right now, but in his mind it was just the universe acting like a dick again.

"You're right," he answered, frowning at the unfamiliar scent of Los Santos. "It smells fucking terrible. I thought the river was awful, especially the times is wasn't on fire, but this place smells like burnt asshole." He stuck two fingers up his nose, looking around him like he was searching for something. People certainly noticed the young man, some giving him curious looks, almost everyone diverting their eyes when they met his. A group of young girls that seemed to be in their late teens didn't, instead leaning in towards each other, giggling as they spoke to each other, pointing at Spood.

"The fuck they laughing at?" Still with fingers up his nose his voice sounded strange when he spoke, still looking at the girls that were giggling at him. He looked down at himself, wondering if his fly was open. But as far as he could tell everything was in order, his torso covered by a dirty white shirt with the word 'Love Fist' printed on the chest. His fly was closed, but the jeans had seen better days, tears all over them, some of them actually patched. His brown boots were scuffed, but it wasn't that surprising considering that he'd bought them at a thrift shop a few years ago. Add in the number of fights he had been in since then it was only natural that they looked old.

His hair certainly was a sight to behold as well. Some sort of mixture between a mohawk and a mullet the haircut didn't have a name as far Spood knew. Not that he cared, he liked it and thought it looked good, who gave a shit about the name of it? His forearms had flames tattooed on them, and on his chest there was an eagle, its wings spreading out onto his shoulders with the words 'Hear The Eagle Roar' written under the bird which was gripping the letters with its talons. His left ear was pierced, a fleshtunnel running through his earlobe and an industrial barbell running through the top of his ear.

Spood was somewhat tall, standing at 6'1, but he wasn't a large man. He was pretty skinny to be honest, having the body of one of those rockstars that seemed to get by on a steady diet of whiskey and heroin but still managed to have abs and a body that looked toned.

However, none of these things we're Spood's most noticable feature. It was actually his eyes. His left eye was hazel-colored while his right was a bright blue. In fact, it was so bright that some people initially thought he was blind on it.

"Is that what it's about? My fucking eyes?" Spood still stared at the girls who were still talking among themselves while looking at him. He was starting to get angry and was about to flip them off when he heard Fisty sigh behind him and toss her duffle bag at the ground.

“We got twenty bucks. I’m hungry, tired, with no protection, no place to crash and absurdly sober. We gotta do sumthin’, Spood…and quick.” Spood turned to Fisty, noticing the tone of her voice. He knew what it meant, and it wasn't good. He had to try to contain her, make sure that she wasn't going to start something.

"OK, calm yer tits." He pulled his fingers out of his nose and looked at them before wiping them off on his thigh. Spood then reached into his backpocket and pulled out a map of Los Santos that he had swiped from some tourist inside the terminal. "I think this is one of those detailed things that shows where all the stores and shit is. Gimme a minute, I'll see if I can find some place to eat."

Spood unfolded the map, turning it around a few times, trying to figure out where they were. It wasn't a very complicated map, a simple system printed on the side of the map to show where every store of note were located, but Spood struggled with it, growing increasingly frustrated as he turned it around again.

"Goddamn-stupid-motherfucking-piece-of-shit-map..." Spood cursed through his gritted teeth.

“Fuck it’s hot out here!”

"I know Fisty, it's hot as shit, but could you shut the fuck up for two seconds while I try to figure out where the fuck we are!" he yelled at her as he stuck his head up above the edge of the map, glaring at her. He knew it was a bad idea to agitate her, but he was in just as poor shape as she was. In fact, he thought he was in worse shape than her, considering that he didn't have a duffle bag. The only things he owned he was wearing, the rest he had to sell so they could get plane tickets to Los Santos. He didn't even have a jacket, he gave his to a hobo in exchange for a half-empty bottle of Rockstar Edinburgh whiskey at the airport in Carcer City so he and Fisty could share it before they got on the plane. As it turned out he didn't need the jacket in Los Santos, but he didn't know that when he gave it away.

"Excuse me?" Spood heard a voice behind him and turned his head, his body still turned towards Fisty, the unfolded map creating a thin wall between them. It was one of the girls that had been staring at him, a shy smile on her face. Spood had a more bewildered look, quickly eyeing the girl from head to toe as she stood there. She was pretty, wearing a blue top that would show a nice amount of cleavage if it wasn't for the fact that her breasts were pretty small.

"Are you Jezz Torrent?" the girl asked, Spood noticing the other girls standing a few feet behind her, still smiling and staring at him.

"What?" Spood stared at the girl, wondering if he had heard her right.

"I mean, you're wearing the shirt," she pointed at the Love Fist print on his shirt. "Are you Jezz Torrent?" The girl was starting to grin from ear to ear, actually believing she was talking to a rocker that was over 50 years old and had left the band over 20 years ago, before Spood was even born.

"Yes," he said with a thick, fake scottish accent. "Ahm Jizz Torrehnt! If ya let me fock yer arse and ye sock it clehn ah'll let ya teek a pictere weth mee! How 'bout it, love?"

The girls face went pale, her lips tightly pressed together and her eyes widened. She stumbled backwards, backing away from Spood, her face turning red and getting an angry look instead.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that!?" The girl yelled at him, now about ten feet away from him, coming closer to her group of friends who stared wide-eyed at the situation unfolding in front of them.

"Ah, fuck off you little bitch! Admit it, you wanted me to fuck you up the ass so you could become famous like that washed-up skank Poppy Mitchell!" He quickly raised his middle finger at the girl before grabbing the map again, turning towards Fisty. "Little fucking cunt..." He muttered, frowning again at the smell hitting his nose.

Kris there for a few minutes with her hands on her hips, seething with frustration and anger just below the surface. Spood's words fell on deaf ears, as did the crinkling of the map he had snagged off a tourist. Those amber orbs drifted over the mass of flesh as it undulated to and fro, the majority of the fat, stupid people making her skin crawl. There was a certain lack of desperation on their faces that Kris wasn't use to, though it just made picking out the rubes that much easier. Slowly, despite her general short temper and even shorter attention span, a plan was slowly starting to formulate within her devious mind. First and foremost, they needed wheels, something to get them to and fro quickly. A cab was a passing thought, but that would require money that neither had to spare. It was then that Kris caught the sight of the nearby parking lot, off to the right as the sidewalk curved outwards in a slow, wide circle. She offered a subtle nod, settling the debate in her mind and settling the unasked questions.

She even started to take a step off the curb, that was until Spood starting screaming about little bitches. Kris had completely blanked the entire interaction with the girl and her friends, though when she looked over at the group she really didn't want to know. Those slender brows twitched slightly before they furrowed over her sharp gaze. They were annoying her, despite the fact that Spood had settled it with a customary middle finger and a surly reply the girls continued to cluck like the hens they were.

“Hey, Tiny Tits!” Kris called out, her shoulders flexing and her head snapping to the right, her neck crackling sharply. “You say one more fuckin' word and you'll be eatin' them. Along with a mouthful of loose teeth.”

The girls gasped in surprise, though as a group they were emboldened. Besides, they were in public, in front of the terminal to an international airport. What could one thug really do? So they returned the gesture that Spood had so loving displayed and finished it off with a loud “Fuck you, Slut!”, something that sent a cold dagger of rage straight through Kris. She reacted without thought, taking a step forward and snatching the Junk Energy drink can straight out of a random passerby's hand. The guy yelped, “Hey!” as his hand was suddenly emptied of his drink, but Kris already took two steps forward, brought the can back over her shoulder and hurled it with all the effort she could muster. The can spun and sent fizz spraying in its wake, but the arc was good and before anyone could react it smashed into the girl's face with a sickening splat and crinkle of aluminum. She squealed, tumbled back onto her ass, drenched in the foul smelling contents of the can and coughing up blood and teeth. Kris only smirked, a smug look of satisfaction on her face at the needless brutality.

“I warned you,” She muttered, clasping her hands together and dusting them off. She turned back to Spood and the hapless standby that had his drink taken. She gave the random guy a pat on the cheek and stepped around him to snatch up her bag.

“C'mon, moron! Let's get out of here.” Kris shot out at Spood as she threw her duffle bag over her shoulder and let her jacket hang in the crook of her other arm. Causally she strolled off towards the parking lot without another glance back.

It was a short trip to the lot, which was packed at this time of day. Kris wandered through the lanes with a off-key whistle on her lips, her amber gaze drifting back and forth over each car she passed. None seemed to fit what she was looking for, it was only after a few passes that she settled for a black Declasse Premier. It would do for now and would probably go for a few grand if they could find the right chop and shop. She glanced back at her friend, tossed him her bag and slid her jacket back on.

“Keep an eye out,” She muttered needlessly. They had been here before, it wasn't anything new. After all, how else were they going to get suitable wheels? Kris causally strolled up to the driver's side with her hands in her pockets, glancing about with an idle look upon her face. She gave the inside of the car a once over before she slid her hands out of her pockets and brought her right elbow up to the window. She brought it back and prepared to smash through the glass when the crunching of gravel from the opposite direction caught her attention. She easily slid into a nonchalant position against the car, leaning her arm on the roof as she pretended to rummage around in her pocket. A man in a business suit strolled down the lane opposite of them. He held a briefcase in one hand and the keys to his car in the other. Kris looked up just in time to see him press the alarm button, the horn giving a honk and the lights flashing on a his nearby car. Those amber eyes fell upon the beautiful Lampadati Furore GT. It was gleaming in the midday sun, a bright cherry red that was sweet as any Siren's call. Kris felt herself salivating at the sight and without thinking about it she pushed up and held her right hand up over her head, indicating Spood to wait. She approached the man quickly as he drew up along his impressive ride, a leather wallet lifted from the inner pocket of her jacket and tossed causally on the ground behind him.

“Hey bro,” Kris called out as she gave a little trot as if she had been trying to catch up to him. “I think you dropped your wallet!”

The man gave Kris a sidelong glance before he looked down his nose at her instantly. She was lowbrow, poorly dressed and thuggish. He was a sharply dressed businessman, so of course he was above her. Still, she had said the one thing that would get his attention. She knew money would always stop a guy in a suit like that in his proverbial tracks. He took the bait, glanced down at the wall and saw instantly that it was cheap and tattered.

“Yeah...that's no--” He began, though finished it off with a gargling wheeze. Kris knocked him out cold with a cheap right hook, he was out cold before he even hit the ground. With a spray of blood he slumped back against a nearby car. Kris took a step in and needlessly laid in on the man, giving him another punch to the other cheek, if only to give him matching shiners. Only after that did she grab him by his collar and toss him aside, though not before grabbing his keys. Kris rose and brandished the keychain with a wide and self-serving grin.

“Oi! C'mon! Let's GO!” She barked out the order, stepping over the prone, bloody body and flung open the driver's side door. Only as a passing thought did she lean back out and yell again.

“Snag his wallet!”

“Hey, Tiny Tits! You say one more fuckin' word and you'll be eatin' them. Along with a mouthful of loose teeth.”

Spood got an evil grin that stretched from ear to ear on his face when he heard Fisty's threat, immediately turning to the group of girls again. "Oh, what's it gonna be? Come on, say something, you know you want to!" His thoughts urged the girls on, hoping they would do something, and he almost teared up when they unanimously flipped her off, knowing they we're about to get cursed at in a manner that would leave them in tears at the very least.

"Fuck you, slut!" the girl replied, making Spood take a step back so he wouldn't be in Fisty's way. She had taken it too far now, getting yelled at were the least of her concerns.

"Oooh, ya dun' goofed!" Still grinning and almost jumping with excitement he watched Fisty closely as she passed him, grabbing an energy drink from some guy as she did. She moved her arm back and Spood knew what was about to happen.

"Heeere's the pitch..." he said in his best announcer voice, following the can as it flew through the air and hit the girl that was dumb enough to think he was Jezz Torrent right in the face, making her squeal and fall to the ground.

"Oh, and she hits the batter! A beautiful hit! A clean hit! And I doubt there's anyone left that wants to step up to the plate after that one!" Spood was right, none of the girls even paid him or Fisty any attention now besides a few quick glances to make sure they weren't coming to beat their asses. Instead they focused on their friend who was sitting on her ass, crying as the blood running from her nose and mouth made a red trail down her blue top. Some were trying to comfort her while the others searched the ground for her teeth, though they seemed reluctant to actually pick them up. Spood giggled as he watched them, loving the sight of the panicked girls running around, not one of them even considering to call the cops or an ambulance.

"Fucking idiots," he scoffed, shaking his head.

“C'mon, moron! Let's get out of here.”

"Yeah yeah, I'm comin'." He started folding the map back together but couldn't figure out how it was supposed to be folded. Instead he just forced it together, wrinkling the map and eventually got it small enough to fit in his back pocket again. He followed Fisty, her sights set on a parking lot. He didn't even have to ask what she was thinking, there was only one reason for them to go there and it wasn't to just look at the cars.

Spood was content to follow Fisty as she wandered through the lot, looking for a car to steal. He didn't really care what she settled for, as long as it wasn't a complete piece of shit. Sure, there were a few cars that he had always dreamed of owning, but right now they were just looking for transportation, and possibly something they could sell. She stopped at a black Declasse Premier and tossed him her bag, apparently having decided for it. Spood leaned towards the trunk of the car and casually looked around him, something he had done many times before.

“Keep an eye out.” She muttered at him.

"Already on it," he replied, just confirming that he had it under control. He reached for his cell phone, pulling it out of his pocket and pretended to navigate it. It was an old, battered Badger phone, which wasn't even a smartphone, that was being held together with duct tape, the screen on it cracked. He pressed the buttons on it without actually doing anything when he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye, the sound of someone stepping on gravel also reaching his ears.

"The motherfucker won't answer!" He cursed, pretending he had tried to call someone. It was one of their signals that someone was coming, telling Fisty to stop what she was doing. Spood nonchalantly continued pressing the buttons on his phone, not even glancing towards Fisty to make sure she had stopped. He was certain she had, they had done this plenty of times before. He brought the phone up to his ear and took a look around, seeing a man in a suit heading for a car, it's lights flashing as he unlocked it from a few yards away. Spood let out an impressed whistle when he saw the car. He wasn't sure, but he thought it was a Lampadati. Whatever it was, it was a really nice car, and looking at Fisty it was obvious she thought so too. She gave Spood a signal to wait where he was before approaching the man, tossing her wallet on the ground behind him. Spood took the phone from his ear and pretended to do something with it again, keeping an eye on Fisty and the man with his peripheral vision.

“Hey bro, I think you dropped your wallet!” Spood tensed up, getting ready to move.

“Yeah...that's no--” Spood heard the man go quiet, barely catching a glimpse of the punch Fisty threw at him. He put the phone back in his pocket and started heading over towards her as she punched the man again, grinning with the keys to the car in her hand.

“Oi! C'mon! Let's GO!”

"Yeah, fuck, I'm comin'!" He picked up the pace, jogging towards the car with Fisty's bag hanging from his shoulder.

“Snag his wallet!” Spood hit the brakes, having just passed the lifeless man, turning back to him and went through his pockets. He found a fancy wallet made from brown leather, but also found a phone, one that made his eyes widen.

"Dude, this guy has an iFruit 9iX! Fuckin-a!" He took the phone as well, also grabbing the mans briefcase before running around the car and jumping in on the passengers side.

"Go, we're out of here!" Fisty drove off, leaving the parking lot and followed the road, leaving the airport. Spood quickly went through the wallet, looking for some cash and found it.

"500 bucks? Why the fuck doesn't rich people carry more cash on them?" He continued going through the wallet and found a credit card issued by Fleeca, but he knew their chances of actually getting some money from it were slim.

"He has a Fleeca. Maybe we can use it for a while and buy some stuff with it before he calls his bank and kills it." He turned his attention to the briefcase, opening it and rummaging through it, but he found nothing of interest. Just a bunch of papers that meant nothing to him and he wasn't about to read them. Instead he rolled the window down and threw out the briefcase and the wallet, having no further interest in it now that it was relieved of cash and credit cards. The papers danced through the air, flying around as they were caught by the wind.

"Seriously, let's get something to eat, I'm fucking starving." He grabbed the map from his backpocket again and unfolded it in his lap, looking at it.

"OK, there's the airport... but where the fuck are we?" He looked out the window, seeing a large building to their left, not really giving it a second thought at first. He then realized what building it was and gasped, lunging across Fistys lap, his forehead pressed against the glass as he stared at the building in awe, not caring that his elbow pressed against one of Fisty's breasts.

"Dude, that's the Maze Bank Arena!" He yelled, excited. "That's where they shoot Fame or Shame! Patty Fuchs was in there!" Spood wasn't really watching Fame or Shame, mostly because he and Fisty could never afford cable, but he did catch it once and there was a contestant on it named Patty Fuchs, a hot brunette with a killer rack. Her talent was that she peeled bananas with her mouth and then ate them, never using her hands. Instead she held the bananas in place with her breasts, a talent that sent her to the finals. Spood had pulled his junk out and started masturbating at the spot, hypnotized by the sight, declaring his love for Patty Fuchs. Jerry, the owner of Jerry's Bar & Grill, didn't appreciate Spood rubbing one out by the bar and threw him out, banning him for life. Spood thought it was unfair and came back after the bar had closed for the night and smashed one of the windows with a brick. Eventually though, both Jerry and Spood forgot about the whole thing and he was back to drinking there like nothing had ever happened.

"Mmm, Patty Fuchs." Spood growled as he thought of her. "Shit, I get hard just thinking about her." He sat down in his seat again, looking at the map once more, trying to figure out where they were.

"We must be oooonnnn... Autopia Parkway. Yeah, that's it. Now, where can we eat?" He looked at the index to the right, reading the names of the restaurants listed.

"Dude, dude, there's a Cluckin' Bell nearby! Shit, I haven't had Cluckin' Bell since the one back home was torched when we were in high school. We gotta go there!" Spood guided Fisty to the Cluckin' Bell located on the corner of Power Street and Carson Avenue, parking the car on the street just outside. They wen't inside the restaurant, Spood taking a deep breath as he entered, exhaling contently.

"Aah, the smell of genetically modified fried chicken, God I've missed that smell! Grab us a table and I'll order." Spood walked up to the counter and was met by an employee wearing a Cluckin' Bell-chicken head. Spood grinned widely when he saw him. Not because he thought he looked funny, but because it gave him flashbacks from when he used to visit their restaurant in Carcer City when he was a kid.

"Cluck cluck, how can I serve you?" Said the man behind the counter, forcing a smile. It was obvious he hated wearing the chicken head, but Spood didn't notice. Instead he dragged his fingers across the counter, feeling the noticeably sticky and greasy surface. Spood sniffed once, his eyes becoming watery while the employee gave him a strange look.

"Sir? Is everything OK?" Spood looked the man in the eyes before bringing his fingers up to his nose, sniffing them. The counter had made them smell like grease and ammonia.

"It's the same as it's always been," Spood replied, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye while the employee wondered if he should call the cops. Or the loony bin.

"Yeeeaaah, would you like to order?"

"Yeah," Spood answered, quickly eyeing the menu above the waiter's head. "I'll have three Cluckin' Huge meals, two Wing Piece meals aaand.... three Fowl Burger meals. As for sodas, make it four eCola and four Sprunk." Fisty and Spood weren't very likely to be able to finish it all, but Spood was hungry and didn't care about the cost, especially since he still had the credit card they stole. Luckily they didn't ask for any form of identification or check the signature he left on the receipt which simply read 'fuck something'. He brought the trays that were full of food and sodas to their table, setting them down and taking a seat across from Fisty before grabbing a burger, unwrapping it before he looked up at her.

"Dig in, my dear." He said with a fake, snooty, british voice before taking a bite out of his burger, loudly chewing on it.

"Shit, it's still awesome!" He made a rapid little tap dance with his feet, not being able to contain his joy. He quickly took another bite, washing it down with some Sprunk.

Kris didn't give Spood long to get into the car. She was already gunning the engine and peeling the tires before he could close the door fully. While she certainly knew her automobiles Fisty was by no means a good driver. Especially when the car didn't actually belong to her. Hell, they would still buy it all banged up, a fine piece of craftsmanship like this could go for quiet a bit, if it wasn't too hot. She hadn't thought about that when she snagged it, didn't matter much, she had always wanted to drive a Lampadati! Everything else at this point was gravy. The tires were still screeching as Fisty flew over the curb, crunching the front bumper heavily as she cut off both lanes and took out a large shrub. Leaves and smoke followed in her wake as she tore down the stretch of road that led away from the airport. She still had no clue where they were going but for the moment it was alright. She gave Spood a sidelong glance as she rapidly changed lanes, more interested in the fine leather wallet in his grasp and the bundle of green he was pulling from it.

“Cash is cash, fuckface.” She growled in annoyance. She knew that five hundred bucks was nothing but a drop in the bucket for someone like the guy she had left bleeding on the concrete. But it was more than either of them had at the moment and leaving it in the hands of her intellectually challenged partner was just a bad idea. It of course only got worse as Spood fished out the plastic of his credit cards. Too bad they didn't stop to ask for his pin code or they could have pumped out some more cash from an ATM, but oh well, it worked well enough on its own, at least until it got cut off. The two of them knew the routine though, it wasn't their first time beating an innocent senseless and taking everything of importance. A girl had to eat.

“Well hurry up and find a place!” Fisty barked again as she took a swift right into another lane, slapping bumpers with car behind them and sending the unfortunate commuter into a deadly spin. They collided with the concrete rail and sent chucks of plastic and metal flying, but it was all in their rearview mirror at that point. She took another sharp left and continued on her merry way, obvious to the large, looming building to their left. That was until Spood was in her lap, his head pressed against the window and his arm jabbing into her breast. She grit her teeth, an undeniable 'tch' escaping her mouth as she went tense.

“Dude!” She swerved and zipped between lanes before she was able to correct herself.

“Fuck you and Patty Fuchs! God dammit, you better not whip that tiny prick out here or I swear to God I will fuckin' chop it off and shove it so far up your ass!” Fisty exploded in blind rage at Spood. She knew the story and his tendency to get lost in the moment when it involved his junk and Patty Fuchs. It wasn't anything knew, the guy was a bit of a perv, more than a few times he had wandered into her room when she was in the midst of her latest conquest. Surprisingly he had been content to watch, or at least spank it from a safe distance. It was weird, a little creep, but also kind of hot, at least in the heat of the moment. Right now, it was just creepy.

“You gotta see someone man...I swear you got some kind of disease in your brain that makes you masturbate that much.” She grumbled as she vented her anger some more, though Spood was all but oblivious to it. As much as she was use to his odd sexual habits, he was just as use to her explosive fits of anger. It didn't help both were starving too! Spood was on it, though the name he called out only made Fisty groan and roll her eyes.

“Fuck man. That place burned down for a reason. It was shit. Do you realize what's in that crap? What about Burger Shot? I could go for a Heart Stopper right about now.”

Again, it all fell on deaf ears, Spood could hear nothing but Cluckin' Bell. He had that kind of simple mind, able only to fixate on one thing at a time. There was no arguing with a moron of this level, and she wouldn't admit it out loud but he was almost cute with this level of intensity over shitty, deep fried chicken. Of course it was cute in a giggling school girl kind of way. There, that made that thought acceptable. They found the place and Fisty only managed to take out one light pole pulling into the parking lot. Of course she smashed into the backend of another car as she was correcting her parking job. It was all good, it needed a new paint job anyway. Before leaving the cab she reached into her bag and pulled out her brass knuckles though, she felt safer with them within reach.

The stench of old grease and body order assaulted them as they entered, Fisty could feel the deep-fried despair hanging in the air. She gave a slow look around, her amber gaze taking in the scene before falling back to Spood. She gave a nod of consent to his idea, though before she strode off she turned back and snatched up the iFruit phone and the map from his pocket.

“I'll take this. You'll probably break it,” She grumbled, her heavy boots echoing loudly as she strode off. She picked a large booth in the corner and slid into it with a sigh. She slid a little too easily, but that was with the help from the grease that coated everything.

“Fuck my life,” She groaned as she slowly became coated in it. Fuck, she was going to need a shower after this meal. But instead of focusing on it and getting pissed, surprisingly Fisty set down to work. She unfolded the map and set it on the table before her, trying to get her bearings in this big new town. Of course she was easily distracted by the shiny new phone in her grasp. It wasn't password protected, which was a good thing, so she started swiping away through the various screens, going through the contacts and finding nothing of interest, at least no names she recognized. So she went through his texts, now there was something interesting. He obviously hated his wife and his kids, since their texts went unanswered for several days. Now 'Mindy' though, he had a rather lengthy conversation with this chick, even going so far as to sent pictures of their body parts to each other. Fisty couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the teeny tiny little prick.

“Awww...not a shower or a grower,” She enjoyed a good chuckle over it, letting her devious mind slowly mull over the ideas slowly brewing in her mind. The thoughts of blackmail instantly came to mind, no doubt they could squeeze some cash out of the fucker she had brutally assaulted, well, if he survived. So, they'd have to wait on that one. Reality came crashing back in as Spood returned with way too much food for two people. Sure they were starving but, damn! Slender brows furrowed over those overly critical amber eyes as they surveyed the massive amount of over-saturated processed food.

“Fuck me...why do I hang around with you again?” She sighed in defeat, tossing the phone down and snatching up a bucket of chicken. She reached in and snagged a leg and popped it into her mouth, doing a decent job of pulling off almost all the meat in one go. She chewed nosily before draining one of the eCola cups and finishing it off with a thunderous roar of a burp.

“So...next stop should be to the closest AmmuNation. We need to stock up. Hopefully that card will still be good. We can use the cash to crash somewhere while we decide our next move.” Fisty talked with a mouthful of chicken. As much as she complained about how disgusting the place was, she had no issues or hesitations when it came to packing it away either.

“Maybe some weed,” She said as an after-thought, tearing into a thigh like a hungry dog, squirting grease everywhere with each bite.

“Fuck me...why do I hang around with you again?” Spood looked up from his burger with a puzzled look on his face.

"Vinnie the dealer said it was because you're 'a mean fucking bitch that pisses off everyone she meets' and I'm 'too much of an ignorant fuck to get that'." Spood took a sip of his soda before continuing. "That's why I stole his car and torched it, the idea was to get his weed stash that he kept in the trunk. But, I forgot to take it out before I set the car on fire." He shrugged. "Shit happens."

Vinnie was one of the more notorious potdealers in Carcer City, known for always wearing a fake fur leopard coat. He had always been on good terms with Spood and Fisty until that day, though 'good terms' might be a generous term. He didn't really mind them, and they didn't really mind him. Why Vinnie suddenly decided to insult Spood he didn't know, and he certainly didn't like it. Talking shit about Fisty was another thing which lead to Spood attacking Vinnie, punching him right in the face.

Unfortunately, Spood wasn't the best fighter and ended up getting his ass kicked by Vinnie. In fact, Spood was pretty crap at fighting. He was physically weak and couldn't punch properly, which meant he ended up taking a beating nine times out of ten. He was, however, a fucking champ at taking that beating. Despite being on the receiving end of some of the most vicious ass-kickings Carcer City had ever seen Spood could always just walk away from it, usually the blood and bruises the only proof that something had happened. Also, Fisty usually bailed him out.

Anyway, Fisty weren't there that night. Spood's guess was that she was back in the apartment banging some guy. Or girl. Whatever. Point was, Spood couldn't let Vinnie go unpunished for calling his best friend a fucking bitch. Only he was allowed to do that. So he followed Vinnie to his car and smashed him in the head with a bottle when he was looking for his keys, stole the car and drove it to the parking lot of an abandoned supermarket and set it on fire. He was pretty pleased with himself until he remembered that he forgot to take the pot out of the trunk. Spood and a couple of hobos stayed close to the car and tried to inhale as much of the smoke from the weed as they could, but the burning tires made Spood throw up in the gutter.

"Do you know why the fuck Vinnie was so pissed at us all of a sudden?" Spood asked, throwing some fries into his mouth. "Then again, Vinnie's an asshole, who gives a shit?" He grabbed another soda, this time eCola.

“So...next stop should be to the closest AmmuNation. We need to stock up. Hopefully that card will still be good. We can use the cash to crash somewhere while we decide our next move.” Spood had moved on to a bucket of chicken as well, tearing into it like a shoal of piranhas attacking a fat kid.

"Mmm-hm." He gave a muffled response.

"Maybe some weed," she added, making Spood grin like a kid on christmas.

"Oooooh, weed," Spood said, his mouth filled with chicken and grease running down his chin. "Aw man, that's been a while. Hold on a sec." Spood stood up slightly, eagerly looking around the restaurant trying to find a dealer. He had always thought he was good at sniffing out a dealer, telling people back in Carcer City he could spot a dealer from a mile away. And he could, but only because he knew every dealer in Carcer City. Now they were in Los Santos where he didn't know anyone, and none of the fifteen or so customers looked like dealers to him. Spood sat down again, visibly disappointed.

"There's no dealer here," he said, tearing the meat off a chickenbone with his teeth. "Just a bunch of black people." That comment made a few of the other customers glare at him, but he didn't notice. He was too worried that there might be no dealers in Los Santos, and if there were no dealers...

"Fuck!" Spood suddenly exclaimed, looking Fisty straight in the eyes. "Maybe they don't have pot in Los Santos!"

They finished eating, leaving almost half of the food behind. Spood wasn't quite prepared to leave it all though, so he brought a bucket of chicken with him, still chewing on a chickenbone as they left the restaurant. They got back in the car and looked at the map, trying to find an Ammu-Nation.

"There's one." Spood pointed at the map, grease dripping onto it from his mouth. "I'll read the map for ya." He sat the bucket of chicken down between his legs, placing the map in his lap.

They eventually arrived at the Ammu-Nation, though it took them a while. When they passed the same hospital for the fourth time Spood started to suspect he was reading the map wrong. Eventually they more or less stumbled upon it, leaving the car outside as they headed in, ready for a shopping spree.

"Hi there, welcome to Ammu-Nation! We're protecting your rights!" Fisty and Spood were greeted by the man behind the counter as they stepped inside the store, Spood giving him a quick wave in return.

"Hey man! Looking to buy some stuff, got anything fun?"

"Hey, here at Ammu-Nation we're all about safety!... And fun. I like this one, one of my personal favorites." The man reached up on the wall and placed a big, black weapon on the counter.

"This is a Grenade Launcher, made by Shrewsbury." Spood let out an impressed whistle as he leaned in closer, getting a good look at the weapon in front of him. "This baby is semi-automatic and can hold up to 10 rounds. The grenades you load this one with are so sofisticated that when they hit a vehicle, or better yet, an unwanted unfriendly, they explode on contact."

"MMMMFF!" Spood muffled a squeal with his hands, doing a little dance as the man described it to him. "Ooooh, I wan't it! I wannit I wannit I wannit! How much?"

"This wonderful weapon of carnage is yours for the low, low price of $8,100."

"Eightthousand bucks!?" Spood exclaimed, nearly choking when he heard the price. "Are you fucking serious!?"

"Sir, this is a quality piece of destruction, and we here at Ammu-Nation are doing all we can to protect your rights, but those rights have a price."

"Shit! OK, wait..." Spood grabbed the stolen Fleeca card from his pocket. "Do you take Fleeca?"

"Certainly, do you have a drivers license?"

"Erm, no... I forgot it at home," Spood lied, but the man just shook his head at him.

"Sorry, can't let you shop without any form of ID. Vote republican next time and maybe we'll be able to get rid of that bullshit." The man grabbed the grenade launcher again, making Spood panic. He really wanted it.

"Wait!" The man paused, the weapon still in his hands. "Look, OK, you're right, I should've brought my drivers license with me. It's just..." Spood made a pause, looking increasingly concerned. "I have new neighbors, and... and they're... immigrants." The man gasped, setting the grenade launcher down on the counter again.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The man offered his sincerest apologies.

"It's OK, it's... it's not your fault. It's just..." Spood forced a tear to his eye. "I'm so scared that they're going to try and stop me from raising the American flag every morning, that they're going to take away my rights!"

"Oh that's just horrible!" The man leaned forward, getting closer to Spood. "If you don't mind me asking Sir... where are they from?"

"Australia." Spood replied with a shaky voice, making the man cover his mouth in shock.

"Sir! Don't you worry! We here at Ammu-Nation take care of our own, give me that card and I'll give you all the protection you need."

"Thank you, you... you are a good man." Spood handed him the card with a shaky hand, selling the lie to the fullest. He hadn't been sure it would work, but his past experiences gave him reason to believe it would. He had worked at an Ammu-Nation two years earlier and learned that it was company policy to sell weapons to anyone concerned about their rights being taken away by immigrants, even if they didn't have an ID. Spood got fired when he stole a gun and gave it to Fisty for her birthday. They didn't call the police on him though when he claimed it was because she was scared of the socialist agenda and needed a gun to protect herself from it. They argued that it was the patriotic thing to do, and how could they call the cops on a patriot? Instead they simply fired him and refused to pay him the salary he was owed which covered most of the cost for the gun.

"I'm afraid you don't have that much money on your card, mr...." the clerk eyed the card. "... Bergenstein."

"Shit!" Spood cursed, scratching his head. "OK, I'll just have to find something else." He looked at the wall, looking for a suitable weapon. Or one that looked cool.

Fisty watched the puzzlement cross Spood's greased covered face and listened while he recanted the tale of a one Vinnie the dealer. She remembered the bastard, he was a nasty fucker but then again most people were. She never saw eye to eye with him but he had some good pot, so Fisty kept from bashing his brains out. Spood had other ideas obviously. She remembered the whole burning the car and forgetting the weed escapade, it was one of the shining examples about how honest and loyal he was as a friend. It was also a bright shining example of how fucking stupid he could be. Fisty had every right to complain, even if she was far from the sharpest tool in the shed. Fisty offered a shrug as Spood went on, shoving food in his face and proceeding to ask the long unanswered question of the decade.

“Beats me. Maybe it mighta had somethin' to do with me knockin' out all the teeth of that hooker he liked so much. Shit...he shoulda thanked me. I bet she gives one hell of a blowjob with no teeth now.” Fisty flashed a lewd grin at the thought, the crooked straw of her cup dangling inches from her lips.

“Or maybe when I killed that one dealer that worked the corner by our house. How the fuck was I suppose to see him standing there?” It was Fisty's turn to shrug. Vehicular homicide wasn't anything new for her, but the guy had ruined a perfectly good new paint job.

Fisty saw those eyes widen once more and before she could stop him Spood was on his feet. It seemed to be one of his superpowers, or so he claimed. Of course it was easy to spot a dealer when they were asking you if you wanted to buy, or already bought from him, or happen to be the only guy standing on that corner in the middle of the night.

“Dude. Shut...the fuck up!” Fisty snapped, slapping the table and forcefully pointing at his seat, as if that would keep his ass planted and his mouth shut.

“I don't feel like havin' to kill a bunch of brotha's because your dumbass mouth won't stop flappin'. Fill it with more chicken!” Fisty growled lowly. Thankfully nothing came of Spood's comments, not that Fisty wouldn't have enjoyed the fight but they needed to get their shit together before they caused more mayhem. The two finished their meal, or more aptly ate their fill before leaving the shithole establishment. Spood was carrying a bucket of the greasy chicken, it wasn't until they were in the car that Fisty realized that the smell was emanating from the chicken and not the restaurant itself. It was nothing a few rolled down winds and two or three cigarettes wouldn't help. She was on her fourth by the time they pulled up to the closest Ammu-Nation. The people who ran the place were straight nutjobs, but at least they made it easy to buy all kinds of firearms and quick! Fisty followed after Spood with a slow, purposeful gait, her feet dragging and her amber gaze in constant motion. Spood was already at the counter by the time Fisty finished a slow circle about the shop. She shouldn't have been amazed to find a grenade launcher sitting on the counter. She literally heard the 'Hhhhgggn' noise coming from her partner. He must have had a chubby over it and while she couldn't deny it was a glorious piece of weaponry, it was not very subtle.

“Dude...seriously...what the fuck are you going to do with a grenade launcher? You barely not how to shoot a rifle,” Fisty began, but Spood was already whipping out the plastic. Fuck, why did she let him keep that thing? Even after his whole little rant on protecting their rights from the 'immigrants', it seemed the price tag was well out of reach. Pity, the guy they mugged wasn't that rich after all. Fisty let out an internal sigh of relief when the card was declined, the last thing she needed was Spood walking around with that getting pissed when people looked at him funny.


“Let's go with something less...conspicuous...shall we?” Fisty slapped a hand across the back of Spood's head before pointing to the shotgun on the wall.

“Maybe one of those...the sawed off variety. Easier to conceal and won't accidentally blow you and several cars up at one time with yer itchy trigger finger.” Fisty stood with her hands on her hips as she let her eyes roam over the back wall, admiring all the lovely inventory. It all seemed too loud, at least for now, nothing really stood out, that was until she eyed the case before them and her gaze lingered upon the pistols.

“Oh,” She murmured softly, a knowing little smile drifting out over her lips. She pointed at the case and tapped against it lightly.

“That one.” She said confidently, to which the man behind the counter withdrew the pistol and set it on the counter.

“You have good taste my friend. That there is our Armor-Piercing pistol. Made by Von Feuer. High-penetration, fully-automatic. That baby holds 18 rounds per magazine but if you are looking to upgrade we can extend that out to 36.”

Fisty snatched up the gun and held it reverently in her grasp. She tested out the balance and weight in her grasp, offering a subtle nod of approval.

“Let's do this. Put this together with whatever this chump is buying...Oh...and...” Fisty set the gun down, gave a quick look around before she veered off towards the sunglasses case and snagged a pair of steel aviators. She sauntered back and set them on the counter with a smug smirk.

“Charge it to Mr. Burgerstun here, my good sir.” She stood beside her friend and let her hands settle back on her hips once more, glancing down at the card in the clerk's hand and wondering if the payment would go through this time.

“Let's go with something less...conspicuous...shall we?” Fisty slapped the back of Spood's head, the smack loud enough to be heard through the entire store.

"Ow!" Spood ran his hand over the spot where Fisty slapped him, trying to rub the stinging sensation away. "Bitch," he muttered, looking at her with a frown on his face.

Fisty and Spood had a physical relationship, though not in the way one might think. Sure, Spood had watched Fisty have sex a couple of times and certainly enjoyed watching her and her current choice of partner, often sitting down across the room and rubbing one out as he watched them. He definitely thought Fisty was attractive, but the thought of them actually having sex with each other was completely alien to him. Why it was like this he didn't know, nor did he think about it, but it could be because of his limited experience when it came to sex. He had only had sex with one girl, a pretty brunette back home named Vanessa, and he refused to go into detail about it. It was a sensitive subject and not even Fisty knew what had happened between them. Whenever it was brought up Spood became quiet and visibly irritated, and if anyone pushed him about it he would usually start a fight with them.

So the 'physical' part of their relationship came in form of punches, kicks, and slaps. They often argued and sometimes ended up actually fighting each other, Fisty always winning. Even so they never stayed mad at each other for long, the argument usually ending when Fisty helped Spood up from the ground or when one of them found a bottle of booze to share. Their friendship was violent to say the least, but they were both OK with it since it was between them. An outsider attacking or insulting one of them was a different thing and it would always, always, lead to both of them attacking the outsider if both of them were there. If someone insulted Fisty they were insulting Spood, and vice versa. They were almost like a tag-team in professional wrestling, closely watching each others backs and never leaving the other one hanging. Plus, they loved to use foreign objects in their fights, doing whatever was necessary to win.

“Maybe one of those...the sawed off variety. Easier to conceal and won't accidentally blow you and several cars up at one time with yer itchy trigger finger.”

"Hey!" Spood took offense to that comment, he didn't have an itchy trigger finger. He just liked to shoot stuff, a lot. But before he could hurl an insult back at her he noticed the clerk holding a sawn-off shotgun in his hands, holding it out to Spood.

"Oooooooooh!" Spood was mesmerized by the weapon, carefully taking it from the clerks hands like it was a holy artifact.

"That's another Shrewsbury beauty. Despite being a two-handed weapon you can just as easily use it with one hand, just watch out for the kick." Spood barely heard the man, he was too busy inspecting the wonderful piece of weaponry in his hands. He handled the shotgun like it was a baby, almost scared to drop it. Then he suddenly spun around, holding the weapon with one hand and aimed it at the green Sprunk vending machine.

"I'LL CRY WHEN I'M DONE KILLING!!!" Spood yelled in his best Jack Howitzer impression, pulling the trigger. The weapon clicked, but in Spood's mind the vending machine exploded, soda cans flying everywhere as flames erupted from it, setting the clothes hanging on the wall next to it on fire.

"Oh yeah," Spood said with a grin. "I want this one. Plus a fuckload of shells. I don't trust the Australians next door."

With Fisty's AP-pistol and ammo the total ended up slightly below $2000, this time the payment went through.

"You've come here on a good day, this week we have a special drive where we'll give you a holster for each gun you've bought." The clerk reached down below the counter and brought up a number of different holsters in various styles. "Just take your pick."

"Ooh, that one's cool. Can I try it on?" Spood asked as he pointed at one.

"Absolutely."

Spood took of his shirt, revealing his tattoos. He grabbed the holster and put it on, tightening the straps that went around his torso before putting his shirt back on. He took the shotgun off the counter and held it behind his neck, sliding the weapon down the holster which was placed on his back.

"Sweet!" Spood exclaimed as he looked over his shoulder, seeing the grip of the gun stick out from the collar of his shirt. "Fuckin-a! This is the shit!"

Fisty & Spood left the Ammu-Nation, the clerk telling them to come back next week when they got a shipment of cruise missiles coming in. When Fisty pulled out the keys to the car Spood quickly snatched them from her.

"My turn to drive! Besides, you drive like old people fuck; it's terryfying to watch and someone's bound to die." Before getting into the car Spood noticed a coin-operated newspaper stand. He was eager to try out his new shotgun and couldn't help himself. He blasted the thing, shattering the glass, pieces of paper flying everywhere.

"Oh, wait." He made a pause as some lady across the street screamed in terror at the sudden shot that was fired. "Shit, the apartment listings! I need one of those papers!" He holstered his shotgun and started digging through the shredded papers that stuck to his hair and slightly sweaty skin, eventually finding one that was in pretty decent shape. He jumped into the car and as soon as Fisty was in he drove off, the tires screeching and leaving black marks on the ground. He nearly hit two cars as he sped through an intersection, but he managed to swerve and avoided them, also avoiding the patrol car that arrived outside the Ammu-Nation looking for them.

When it was clear that no cops were after them he slowed down, actually going with the flow of the traffic.

"Where are we?" He looked for a street sign and found one. "We are on... Grove street." He reached a cul-de-sac and parked the car on the side of the street before grabbing the bucket of chicken that had been knocked over and grabbing the map.

"I'll figure out where the hell we are," he said as he took a bite out of a chicken wing, "and you check the paper for a place to live." He looked out the window and noticed groups of men dressed in purple standing around talking among themselves, some of them glancing towards them. Spood nudged Fisty with his elbow, directing her attention at one of the groups.

"Some kind of gang?" He asked, a piece of chicken falling out of his mouth as he spoke. "Oh! Maybe they have weed," he added excitedly.

Fisty was a little surprised that the card went though, but was pleased enough when it cleared. She took off her old beaten pair of shades and tossed them aside, only to replace them with the reflective, silvery lenses of her new aviators. They looked cool, or so she thought, and it was always a nice advantage to keep hidden just where she was looking at.

Before she knew it several holsters were tossed onto the counter and Spood was slapping one on. He looked more like a hokey B actor from one of those bad horror flicks than a legitimate thug. With a dismissive snort she picked up a shoulder holster and flung it on. It was a snug fit, the leather strap ran over her chest right below her ample bustline. It only caused that tight fitting shirt to cling all the more enticingly to her pert breasts, putting them on display for the hungry eyes of whomever was brave enough to look. She tried it out, holstered her new gun and gave a slow shrug, letting it settle into a natural place before she gave a nod of confirmation.

“Thanks. Yer one creepy mother fucker,” Fisty offered as she exited the building with Spood in tow. He was like a little kid on crack running around with that shotgun. She expected him to shoot his foot off before he would do any real harm to anyone else. Without thinking she fished out the keys from her pocket and let them dangle for a precious second, long enough for Spood to snatch them up. Slender brows furrowed above her amber gaze and an undeniable growl of resentment flared her nostrils.

“I drive better than you. Dumb fuck,” Fisty retorted, simply going for the blunt insult with next to no wit. She had already offered more than her fair share of sarcasm, her meter was running low. Before she could even get to the other side of the car though, the newspaper stand nearby exploded, sending shrapnel and paper flying in every direction. Fisty instinctively ducked, her hands going to her head, her gaze lost behind her glasses. Which was probably a good thing, since she was shooting daggers at her idiotic partner.

“Fuck dude. Do you want to get busted this early in the day? Pace yourself!” Fisty snarled, flopping into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. She had a cigarette in her mouth faster than Spood could climb into the car, the tip smoldering by the time the keys were in the ignition. They tore off like a bat out of hell, Fisty clutched the dash and grit her teeth, biting through her cigarette in the process.

“Gah! Dude!” She squawked, throwing herself back in the seat and snapping a fist out in Spood's direction.

“Fuck you suck! Who taught you to drive? Wait...did you ever get your license?” Fisty asked pointedly, even though she hadn't actually ever passed hers either. That was irrelevant and what fake ID's were for. Hers was about five years out of date, with the name Maria Sanchez clearly written out in black marker. Hey, pay what you get for and Fisty paid for it with a hand job. It didn't help she gave it at the same time he was making the ID, but hindsight was always 20/20.

The car finally came to a jarring stop on an unfamiliar street. The scenery was quaint, what with the squalor and the faint echo of sirens in the distance. It actually felt a little like home to be honest, without the angry looking guys in purple staring their way. They seemed primarily concerned with the car, since it stood out like a sore thumb in this part of the city. The dents, cracks and blood stains didn't help much, nor did the freakish occupants who seemed oblivious to their dangerous surroundings. Fisty glanced at the paper tossed her way, though her interest was more on the guys outside the car.

“Yah think? Maybe they all just happened to wear the same exact color today by mistake. Open your eyes dumbass.” She scoffed, reaching behind herself and retrieving her short leather jacket. The idea of weed made her eyes light up just as brightly as Spood's though and Fisty had a plan.

“Wait here. Brothers love white chicks. Watch and see.” She commented lightly as she kicked open the door and confidently exited. She shrugged on her jacket at the same time, which was large enough to conceal her holster just underneath her left armpit. She wore a confident smile that was as dangerous as it was alluring. There was a certain swagger to her step, a sway to her hips that couldn't be denied. She was spot on with her assumption, all eyes were upon the lovely figure that was slowly rounding the car.

“Sup fellahs. Me and my friend here are lookin' for some top quality dope and you look the type to know how to find it,” Fisty laid it on smooth and thick, or so she thought. It didn't matter much to her that most of the eyes in the crowd were drawn to that impressive rack and athletic backside held tightly by her torn and faded jeans. If anything it was an asset, pun intended, when dealing with the low brow male. It paid sometimes to be underestimated, giving her something to sink her claws into before they realized just what they were messing with.

“We might got what chu lookin' for, baby. But this shit ain't free, feel me?” One of them said, suddenly presenting a finely rolled joint in his left hand. Fisty grinned and offered a subtle nod, one hand sliding into her pocket to fish out the substantial wad of cash they had procured earlier in the day. Drug dealers rarely took plastic.

“Green for green, player.” Fisty responded as she flashed the cash. All eyes were on her with instant and salacious greed. The one with the joint offered an all too easy smile and nodded, gesturing towards another of his crew. They produced a small bag of bud, only a few ounces but it looked mighty tempting to Fisty, who was unfortunately very, very sober.

“Two fiddy gets you all this,” The purple clad thug offered with that practiced smile. Fisty snorted, her proud shoulders rolling easily.

“For that tiny bit? Fuck dude, that's worth twenty at the most.” She adamantly proclaimed, still clutching the wad tightly in her grasp. The group was slowly closing in on her, though she seemed oblivious behind those steel shades.

“Supply and demand, bitch.” The thug responded with a smirk. His other hand slid over the front of his baggy shirt, drawing it up and revealing the Glock nestled snuggly in the waistband of his shorts.

“ 'How bout this. We take your whole stash and your ride? Huh?” The thug's attitude changed quickly, much to Fisty's annoyance. “Get that freak outta my wheels!”

Two other Ballas peeled off from the group and started to approach Spood in the car. Fisty sighed lightly, though her smile only grew as the realization of the moment settled in. She lifted the hand with the wad of cash and held up three fingers, brandishing them over her shoulder. If Spood was looking he knew the game was just starting as Fisty flashed one of their many hand signals indicating the shit was about to go down.

“You guys just made my day,” Fisty said with all too much glee. The group was on her now, easily five against one. Guns were drawn, though the closest two lunged for her smaller frame, intending to pin her down and neutralize what threat she could offer. Fisty just grinned, snorted sharply and spat a glob of phlegm directly into the eyes of the Balla in front of her. It was a momentary distraction, enough to take him out for a second to deal with his friend. He was on her though, a hand grasping the fake leather of her jacket. She snapped her head back, ramming the back of it against the man's face, which gave a resounding crunch as his nose broke. The remaining three fumbled with their guns the entire time, trying to draw down on her before she could get away. But Fisty had no intention of running, instead her free hand slid inside her jacket and upholstered that brand new AP pistol. With a malicious grin she placed two bullets between the eyes of the Balla she had spat at, another in the kneecap of the one with the broken nose and sprayed the rest of the magazine into the three thugs before her, wasting one entirely and several wounding the other two. The primary thug fell back, bleeding from several bullet wounds that stained his purple shirt. He tried reaching for the gun, but Fisty's boot crunched down on his wrist.

“Ah-aah, playah.” She tsked softly, her grin still lingering upon her lips as she reloaded. She heard commotion behind her, the thunderous boom of a shotgun and couldn't help but enjoy herself a little more. Spood had his situation well in hand.

“Bitch!” He coughed, spitting up blood.

“Thanks. Maybe next time...you'll start a little lower. Yer negotiating skills are dick, man.” Fisty commented lightly as she slapped the magazine into her gun and pulling back on the slide. With a metallic click she released it, cambering a round and lazily leveling her gun back on the thug.

“Oh wait!” She giggled, a rather uncharacteristic sound coming from such a strong woman. “Yer fuckin' dead!”

Before the Balla could retort she unloaded half a magazine into him, saving the rest for his friend who couldn't even reach for his gun. Fisty finished them off with the joy only a homicidal maniac could feel. She reloaded again before snatching up the small baggy of weed and finally turned back to her partner. She brandished the baggy, dangling it from her grasp as she causally approached, only stopping to finish off the kneecapped thug with two two his forehead.

“Got some weed. You find a place yet?” Fisty asked, unphased by the carnage or the calls of other Ballas quickly approaching.

“Fuck you suck! Who taught you to drive? Wait...did you ever get your license?”

"Of course I did!" Spood replied as he narrowly avoided running over an old lady. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open and holding it up to Fisty's face. "Look!" And sure enough, the driver's license inside did read Travis Rhodes. Only problem was, it wasn't issued by the DMV, it was issued by Jenny's Gokart-land. Spood had gotten it when he was 11 and went there with his dad, failing to realize that it wasn't a real one. Even worse, he was now 23 and still thought it was a real driver's license, often wondering why people had such a hard time getting one.

They stopped by the cul-de-sac on Grove street where they noticed what looked like gangmembers. Spood didn't really care about them, or Fisty calling him a dumbass, but he did wonder if they had some weed. So did Fisty, apparently, and she reached for her jacket, preparing to go out and talk to them.

“Wait here. Brothers love white chicks. Watch and see.” Spood scoffed as she opened the door.

"Dude, your tits look even more amazing than usual with that holster pushing them up," he said, making a slight pause as she closed the door behind her, making Spood raise his voice as he continued. "It's not only the brothers that will love you, it's also the..." Spood made a pause, thinking. "Wait, what do you call a group of white guys? Sisters?" He took another bite of chicken, still thinking. "Nah, that's black girls. They're called sisters." He continued pondering the issue, not hearing or noticing the argument over the cost of pot these days outside the car. "Why are they called brothers and sisters anyway? It's not like they're all related. Are they? No, that can't be it, that would be some serious fucking inbreedin' right there." He filled his mouth with more chicken, annoyed that it was starting to get cold. While it still tasted like heaven to him it wasn't the highest level of heaven when it wasn't warm. But if they could get some weed from these guys he would be in heaven later when they lit it up.

Spood looked up from the map and through the window, noticing two of the guys dressed in purple moving towards him, one of them also wearing a purple do-rag on his head. "Mwhat tha fuhck?" Pieces of chicken fell out and he turned towards Fisty, noticing five guys moving closer to her as she held up three fingers. Spood started chewing quicker when he saw the signal, grounding up the meat in his mouth and filling it with saliva. "Three fingers on the back, get ready to attack." He thought sing-songy as he propped his left foot up against the car door. "Fisty's got a great rack." He added to his little lyric while he was waiting for the two guys to get closer. He noticed Fisty getting to work, headbutting one of the guys that had snuck up behind her. Meanwhile, Spood's guys had reached the door on his side, one of the grabbing the handle.

"You gettin' jacked moth-*" As soon as Spood heard the door click he kicked it with everything he had, making the door fly open and hit one of the thugs right in the face, making him stumble backwards as he held his hands over his mouth, blood quickly covering his hands.

"You gon' die for that, asshole!" The man wearing the do-rag reached in and grabbed Spood by the collar. Spood quickly emptied the contents of his mouth on the mans face, a mixture of fried chicken, saliva, and grease covering his face, making him look away momentarily.

"You sick fuck!" The man violently pulled Spood out of the car with ease and pushed him up against the car, giving him a hard punch to the stomach.

"OOOHHFF!!!" Spood felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as his leg weakened, but he wasn't allowed to collapse. The man held him up before tossing him to the ground, making Spood roll to the middle of the cul-de-sac. Still trying to breathe Spood got up on all fours only to be kicked in the face by the guy that had taken the car door to the face.

"You knocked out my fuckin' teeth!" The man screamed as he kicked Spood again, this time in the ribs. "I'm gonna pull your fuckin' teeth out with pliers, one by one! Then I'm gonna shove my cock so far down your throat I'll be assfuckin' you at the same time!" Spood rolled over from the last kick, managing to get up on his knees. The man came closer, his white shirt turning red from the blood running from his mouth. He reached for Spood's collar, but froze when Spood pulled the shotgun from his back, holding it only inches away from the mans stunned face.

"No thanks." Spood grinned at him. "You first." "Shit, that doesn't make any sense!" He pulled the trigger, the shotgun roaring as the muzzle spewed fire and pellets that forced it's way through the thugs head, leaving a large hole where his nose and mouth was supposed to be. The man collapsed backwards, dead before he hit the ground. Spood cocked his weapon, turning towards the man with the do-rag who was reaching for a gun stuffed in the waistband of his pants. Just when he got it out Spood fired again, this time from a greater distance, making the pellets spread and hit the man all over his torso, tearing up his purple shirt. He let out a yelp of pain as he fell down, his gun hitting the asphalt before he did. Spood stood up and walked over to him, the shotgun resting on his shoulder. He stopped by the mans feet, looking down on him.

"You fucking psycho!" His voice was cracking, tears running down his face. "You sick fuck! Fuck you!" Spood squinted at him while he shifted his grip on his shotgun, holding it with one hand by the fore-end.

"No time to cry!" Spood yelled as he cocked the gun with one hand, stopping to look at it with amazement.

"Did you see that!?" He asked the thug lying by his feet, excited from what he just did. "It fucking worked! How cool was that!? That was some serious 80's action movie shit right there! I was sure I was gonna drop it, but it fucking worked!" Spood was giddy from his accomplishment when he realized that he forgot what he was about to say.

"Wait, what was I saying? Shit, it was a quote, something like... Fuck! I fucking forgot! Aw, fuck it!" He quickly pointed the shotgun at the mans face and pulled the trigger, the pellets tearing flesh from the mans face as they hit him and ripping his do-rag to shreads.

“Got some weed. You find a place yet?” Spood turned towards Fisty who was holding up a bag of pot. He looked behind her and saw a couple of dead bodies lying around, but she still looked pretty unphased by the whole thing. Spood on the other hand had blood spattered all over him from the two men he took down, tiny red blotches covering him. He spit on the street, his saliva mixed with blood coming from a cut in his mouth.

"Me? Bitch, that was your job, I had the map!" He heard something behind him and looked over his shoulder, seeing a number of thugs dressed in purple running towards them, most of them with a weapon in their hands.

"Aaand with that said, my map says we need to get the fuck out of here. Right now." He fired a shot towards a group of thugs that quickly took cover behind a car, only to be fired at again, this shot taking out a couple of the windows on it.

"Get in the fucking car, now!" Spood ran towards the car, firing another shot at a couple of guys hiding behind a dumpster. He jumped into the car as he heard shots being fired behind him, quickly starting up the car and stepped on the gas as soon as Fisty was in, the tires screeching at the violent acceleration. Several bullets hit the car as they drove away, Spood emptying his shotgun through the window in an effort to keep the thugs on his side of the street pinned down as they made their escape.

They slowed down after a few blocks, again having no clue where they were.

"Well, fuck." Spood muttered as his eyes scanned the sidewalk. "We'll just have to ask someone where the hell we are." He noticed a group of guys talking to each other and pulled up next to them, rolling down the window.

"Hey! Hey, you guys!" Spood leaned over Fisty as he tried to get their attention, and when the men turned around Spood noticed that they were all dressed in green.

"The fuck you want?" A bulky man wearing a Los Santos Corkers baseball cap moved closer to the car, visibly agitated.

"Look man, we just want to know where the fuck we are." He made a pause, thinking of something else. "Oh, and if you know of any chop-shops." The men glared at him, some of them talking among themselves.

"Bitch, why the fuck would you assume that we know of any chop-shops? Get yo' fuckin' punk-ass outta here!" That's when they noticed Fisty sitting next to Spood, or more correctly, noticing her bosom.

"Shit, what'cha got there, white boy?" The man leaned in, placing his elbows on the car, staring at Fisty from head to toe, taking her in.

"Man, you is fuckin' fine girl! Why don't you dump this asshole and we'll take this car and you can have some fun with me and my boys somewhere?" Spood felt his rage ignite at the way the man was talking to Fisty and quickly pulled his shotgun out, pressing the muzzle against his lips. The mans friends quickly responded by pulling guns of their own, aiming at Spood and Fisty.

"You're making a fuckin' mistake homie!" The man didn't move, clearly nervous, though he managed to keep himself surprisingly calm.

"No, you made a fucking mistake!" Spood realized that his shotgun wasn't loaded, but hopefully they wouldn't be able to tell. "We already killed some fucking assholes wearing purple today, adding some assholes wearing green to the list doesn't make a difference!" The man reacted at Spood's words, moving backwards slightly.

"Wait, you killed some Ballas? Where? When?"

"On Grove street, just a few minutes ago." The man slowly gestured towards his friends to lower their guns.

"Jeffrey, call Smitty." A lanky man pulled out his phone and dialed someone, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Hey dawg, it's Jeffrey. Where you at?... You on Grove street? Has... Shit, fo' real? How many?... Seven, at least? Who did it?" The man leaned down and looked at Spood & Fisty through the open window.

"A skinny white dude and a crazy redheaded bitch with a nice rack... OK, cool, thanks." The man hung up, making the man with the shotgun in his face slowly raise his hands in a non-threatening gesture.

"Look, dawgs. I apologize, alright?" He slowly leaned backwards, moving away from the shotgun. "I thought you were just some assholes, but you iced seven Ballas, that makes you fucking family." Spood slowly lowered his shotgun, placing it in the area between him and Fisty. "Look, you ever need anything, just holla at us, OK? The DNF got your back, you dig?"

"DNF?" Spood raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah dawg, the Davis Neighborhood Families. You never heard of us? You guys new in town or somethin'?" The man joked, the thought that anyone having never heard of them being preposterous.

"We got off the plane from Carcer City a few hours ago." The members of the DNF grew silent as they simple stared at the two in the car.

"Wait, you haven't been here a day but you've already killed a couple of Ballas and you're lookin' for a chop-shop? Man, you fuckers work fast, you know that?" The man noticed the map in the car and pointed at it. "Hey, gimme that map and I'll show you where you are." They unfolded that map and the man quickly pointed out where they were. "So right now, you're here. If you follow this road," he traced the map with his finger. "And go all the way down here." His finger stopped at what looked like docks. "You can find a guy here named Simeon Yetarian. He's a shifty motherfucker, but he buys stolen rides and pays pretty good for them, especially if he's currently looking for them." He leaned backwards, eyeing the Lampadati. "In this shape he won't pay full price, but it should still give you a couple of thousand. If you take it to a Los Santos Customs and repair it he'll probably pay more."

"OK, thanks man."

"It's Chucky, man. Call me Chucky. What's your names?"

"I'm Spood." He pointed at himself then at Fisty, allowing her to introduce herself.

"Cool, great to meet you Fisty, Spud."

"No man, not Spud, Spood."

"What?" Chucky looked confused, his friends in the DNF not getting it either. "Wasn't that what I said? Spud?"

"No!" Spood grew frustrated, hating the fact that noone seemed to be able to pronounce his nickname correctly. "It's Spood. S-P-O-O-D! Spood!"

"Spooge?" One of the members of the DNF spoke with a confused look on his face.

"Tha-... that's not even fucking close! It's Spood, OK? Spood!" Spood quickly gave up explaining the difference between Spud and Spood. He was getting a headache just thinking about the argument that waited for him if he decided to push it further.

"Hey, before you go." Chucky suddenly spoke, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Gimme your digits. You guys aren't afraid of hard work, and we get some of that. There's money to be made."

They exchanged numbers with Chucky, getting ready to leave.

"You guys be safe now, you hear? And remember, DNF got your back."

"Thanks," Spood replied, giving the members of the DNF a little nod. "Take care." Spood shifted gears and drove away, leaving the DNF behind.

Spood looked better than Fisty had thought, though that was only because most of his wounds were probably internal. His face wasn't that bad well, for Spood. He always did have that 'I just crawled out of a train wreck' look about him, but that was just his natural charisma, or lack thereof.

Before Fisty could spout off the appropriate comeback to his insult, Spood was leveling his shotgun and letting fly another blast. Thankfully Fisty wasn't in the path of the spray of pellets. With a sigh she stuffed the baggie into her jacket pocket and hoofed it towards the car. She let Spood cover her quick retreat, her svelte frame easily leapt into the air and glided across the dented hood of the car to land with a thump on the other side. She had her pistol in her hand and spun on point, letting out a blind spray of bullets to keep the Ballas at bay. It was enough to give them both the chance to get into the car, though Fisty barely had time to close the door before Spood peeled out. Instead of keeping a calm, level head and ducking inside for cover as bullets pelted the body of the car, Fisty got pissed!

“Fuckin' punk ass bitches!” She snarled and smashed the passenger side window needlessly before she leaned out and proceeded to fire away. Together the two managed to hit at least a few of the Ballas, though it was hard to tell through the haze of red in front of Fisty's gaze. She didn't flop back into her seat till her magazine was empty and she had to reload.

“The fuckin' nerve of some people!” She huffed, slapping another magazine into her gun and cambering another round. She was still running high on adrenaline, fuck-an-A she loved the rush! So it was a crushing disappointment when she finally realized that they weren't even chasing them.

“What the hell man...not even a car chase? What kind of gangsters are these purple chumps?” Fisty mumbled aloud as Spood slowed down and perused the sidewalk. It took Spood leaning over her to realize just what the moron was doing, by then it was too late. He had caught the attention of more local thugs but to her relief she didn't see any purple colors. Leave it to Spood to wave down someone looking to put a few caps in his ass.

The greeting they received was far from warm, but that really wasn't much of a surprise. It took one the one talking to them a few moments to realize the fine piece of real estate sitting next to the idiot with mismatched eyes. A wide, appreciative smile drifted out across Fisty's ravishing features. If you couldn't enjoy the proclamation that you were 'fuckin' fine girl!' then something was seriously wrong with you. Fisty was not the type, she liked to hear it even if she knew it was true. It was just nice to hear sometimes. Of course the rest of his sentence quickly erased the smile and replaced it with a scowl. Spood and Fisty moved as one, drawing their weapons and pressing them firmly against the leaning thug. Fisty held her gun causally in her grasp, letting the barrel rest just underneath his chin as his lips kissed the end of Spood's shotgun.

“While I appreciate the comment...No one call's this fucktard an asshole but me. Oh...” Fisty faltered, her head tilting back to let her voice travel far enough to the thug's friends.

“We're totally not together! I'm single and lookin'!” Her smile returned, even as her thumb drifted to the hammer of her pistol and cocked it back with a satisfying click. Spood's anger was righteous, so much so that it easily made up for the fact he had no shells in his gun. Fisty didn't know, not that it mattered since she was still packing plenty of heat. She felt the tingling return and was quick to tighten her finger on the trigger, yet things didn't quiet turn out as she expected.

“Is that what they're called? Ballas? Pft. I call 'em very shitty businessmen! Fuckers can't haggle for shit.” Fisty snorted, her gun hand following the thug as he started to pull back. She clucked her tongue and offered a slow shake of her head.

“Not so far, cutie. I like lookin' at cha.” She winked, even as the man called out to his friend for further verification of Spood's claims. She waited patiently, well, as patiently as a psychopathic killer still coming off a killing high could. It was just about when Fisty started to feel the itch in her finger again that the word of their deeds reached their ears. Fisty laughed, letting her gun fall away before she tapped it to her chest lightly.

“I'm the redhead with the big tits. Just in case yer confused or sumthin',” Fisty needlessly added. Part of her was disappointed the encounter went the way it did, but that little voice in her head told her that contacts were a good thing. It seemed these DNF boys had no love for the Ballas, as unintentional as it had been it seemed the pair had taken the correct steps in getting in good with the natives. Fisty let Spood prattle on with this Chucky guy, after all Spood liked to rattle on and for the moment that was a good thing. Fisty looked over the map and followed the finger as it trailed over their destination. It wasn't too far, and it seemed it would lead to another contact. This Simeon Yetarian guy sounded just like the type of lowlife that Fisty wanted to meet. If Chucky was true to his word they could unload this fancy sports car for enough cash to help them settle in with style. Style was a subjective term.

“You can call me Fisty,” She added in after the explosive exchange as yet another person tried to understand Spood's name. She just let it pass over her, mostly because she enjoyed how honestly frustrated he became when someone couldn't pronounce it. There was nothing new there, if she couldn't get him to change it back then there was no way of getting to him now. That dented skull was just too damn thick.

They were almost off before Chucky stopped them and asked for their numbers. It was a novel idea, something that neither one of them thought about. Fisty fished out her dirty old phone and swapped the aforementioned digits.

“You can call me Kris, Chucky boy. Hit me up sometime when yer lookin' for a wild fuck, kay?” Fisty flashed a lewd grin and a wink before Spood sped off once more, leaving the DNF in the dust. Fisty sat back with a lewd look on her face as she pondered the consequences of her statement. It was only after a few moments of day dreaming that she realized where they were headed.

“Dude! Yer drivin' the wrong way!” Fisty barked, snatching up the map and giving it another twist before she jabbed her finger at its surface.

“This way dipshit!”

“You can call me Kris, Chucky boy. Hit me up sometime when yer lookin' for a wild fuck, kay?”

Spood thought about what Fisty said to Chucky, how she offered a good fuck if he was ever interested. Not that Spood was jealous or anything, far from it. He was used to her way of picking up guys (and girls) which was pretty straightforward like she recently demonstrated. Spood had never seen anyone reject the offer, but he was sure it wasn't a pretty sight. Fisty wasn't the type to just say 'well OK, enjoy your evening' if someone rejected her. No, she was far more likely to say 'whaddya mean no? I'll kick yer fucking ass'. Or something along those lines.

Still thinking about what Fisty said he glanced over at her, the look on her face telling him that she was thinking about something dirty, probably about fucking Chucky. He snickered when he saw it and turned forward again, focusing on the road. Still, he was curious and just had to ask her.

"Hey, Fisty? Have you ever fu-'*"

“Dude! Yer drivin' the wrong way!” Fisty suddenly interrupted him, making him take a quick look around to see if she was right. Though why he did that he had no idea, as far as he knew they were going the right direction.

“This way dipshit!” Spood took a quick glance at the map, Fisty's finger telling him he was going in the wrong direction. He quickly hit the brakes and turned the wheel to the left, making the car slide with it's right side first through an intersection. Several cars took sharp turns to avoid colliding with them, instead bumping into other vehicles coming from other directions. Spood couldn't quite control the car and ended up slamming into the drivers side of another car with his passenger side. The car jolted as they collided, but Spood wasted no time, instead forcing his foot down quickly on the gas pedal and taking off before anyone could get out of their cars and ask them any questions that they didn't feel like answering anyway. Once they were a block or so away Spood remembered he was about to ask Fisty something.

"Anyway, I was just wonderin', have you ever fucked a black guy before?" Spood looked at her, the question being an honest one. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen you banging one, I'm just curious. If you fuck Chucky it would be another box I could check in my 'Things and people I have watched Fisty fuck'-bingo." Spood had watched Fisty with a couple of guys, and girls, often taking place across the room and enjoying the show, sometimes just grabbing a beer but most of the times he started jacking it. Naturally not all of Fisty's partners enjoyed it, but some were actually turned on by it.

"Shit, what was the name of that sexy brunette you fucked once? Tight, curvy body, tattoos beneath her tits?" That was one of the hottest fuckings Spood had ever witnessed, easily beating all the stuff he had seen in porn. Not only that, the girl had looked Spood directly in the eyes, clearly turned on by what he was doing. It had almost looked like she wanted him to join them, but Spood knew better than to interfere with Fisty when she was fucking. Besides, he was pretty content with just watching, the hot scene in front of him making him blow his load twice.

"Man, she was fine as fuck, why did you never bring her over again? Shit, the thought of the two of you... mmff!" He pointed towards the bulge in his pants, his manhood pressing up against the fabric of his jeans. "See? That shit was hot, almost as hot as Patty Fuchs." That last comment made Spood imagine a three-way with Fisty, the sexy brunette, and Patty Fuchs. He got a grin on his face at the thought, licking his lips. He would pay money to see that!

"Hey, check the map, see if you can find... what did Chucky call it? Los Santos Customs?" He leaned forward and checked the hood of the car, noticing a number of bullet holes. "Let's hope they're not too fucking nosy."

Amazingly enough, they weren't. In fact, they didn't even care that the car was completely smashed and riddled with bullet holes. The guy greeting them, a buff white guy wearing a wife-beater and a black cap which he wore backwards more or less put the words in Spood and Fisty's mouths as he asked them about the car.

"Been in a little accident, I suppose? No other vehicles involved?"

"Uuuh, yeah." They all looked at the car, the scratches on it a number of different colors, telling another story. "Just... hit a tree. That's all."

"Mmm-hmm." The man used his pen to dig out a bullet from one of the doors, inspecting it closely before throwing it over his shoulder. "A tree, you say? Well, these things happen." He jotted down some notes on his clipboard. "I'm guessing that you've been having problems with the anti-theft tracker?"

"The what?" Spood asked sheepishly.

"You know, the thing that tracks the car if it's ever stolen. We get a lot of complaints about those, they're usually 'malfunctioning'. You want us to remove it?"

"Oh, yeah, the fucking thing is broken. Just scrap the damn thing."

"Very well." He made another note as a mechanic that had been standing next to them bent down and reached under the car, easily removing a black plastic box from under it. He tossed it on the floor and whacked it a few times with a wrench, sparks flying from the rough treatment.

"Now, if you just go to our waiting room right over there," the man said as he pointed towards a door. "We'll come get you when we're finished. It shouldn't take long."

And it didn't take long. Fisty and Spood hadn't waited thirty minutes when they came to get them, the car now in tip-top shape. They had even cleaned it out, the smell of fried chicken, cigarettes and grease now completely gone.

"Fuck me!" Spood exclaimed when he saw the car, watching his reflection in the fresh paint job. "You fuckers work fast!"

"We've done this a few times before." The man replied, not saying anything else about it. "Will you be paying with cash or credit?"

"Credit." Spood handed him the Fleeca, hoping that the card hadn't been killed yet. Luckily, it hadn't, and mr Bergenstein had now paid for a $3,000 visit to LSC as well. Spood couldn't help but think that he and Fisty should do something nice for him, like paying him a visit at home some time. He would certainly enjoy that.

"So," Spood said to Fisty as he drove out from the LSC, looking at the map in her lap. "We're just going straight south right? Then we'll be at the docks?"

Spood managed to correct himself, not before plowing into a few cars and more property than either could remember. It didn't matter much, it never did. So Fisty took it in stride, propping her hand against the window frame for support as they took several crazy turns. She wasn't paying attention much at this point, instead she had been fiddling with the knob of the radio, trying to find a station that didn't play complete crap. His question threw her off at first, since it felt like it was coming out from right field when in actuality it wasn't. She quirked a brow at the thug to her left and snorted. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest, setting her jaw as she just glared at Spood for a few moments before finally answering.

“I dunno. Have you?” She shot back, going with whatever had first come to mind. It wasn't as if Fisty was a prude, far from it, but damn did he have to be like that all the time? “Do you always have to be such a fuckin' creep? When are you gonna stop livin' vi...uh....vi-carry....” Fisty scrunched up her face as she tried to recall the exact word to use. After a whole five seconds she just shrugged and sighed in frustration. “Stop jerkin' off when I fuck people. It's about time you got your own pussy. Maybe we'll work on that after we settle with the car guy.”

Of course, if Spood was listening to her criticism, Fisty couldn't rightly be sure. Mostly because he started to go off on another tangent about one of Fisty's former 'lovers'. She easily recalled the woman Spood was referring to, only an idiot wouldn't be able to remember that ass.

“Cindy. Or Sally. I'm pretty sure it was Cindy. You know those titties were fake, right?” Fisty muttered, fishing out another cigarette and lighting as they sped along through several red lights. She cringed at the sight of Spood going on again, she was sure he would have waved his junk around in the air 'helicopter dick' style if given the chance.

“She got run over. Don't you remember that night at the strip joint?” Fisty sighed loud, exhaling a plume of smoke that trailed out the open window. “Bitch tried to work me for some money to score some crank. So I kicked her out the car...then forgot we were on the highway. Man...I never saw anyone splatter like that.” Fisty got quiet for a moment, the look on her face distant and nostalgic. Only after a few moments did she laugh and take another puff.

“That truck driver never saw her coming. I bet he was cleaning bits of her out of his grill for weeks!”


They eventually found Los Santos Customs and after some totally not shady transactions they got the car looking absolutely perfect. The pace and efficiently of the crew was amazing, Fisty would have tipped them if she actually gave a shit. They paid with the stolen credit card and were gone before either one could give much thought on it. Once more Fisty played the navigator and eventually they found their way to the docks, just where Chucky had directed them. It wasn't the nicest part of the city, just a little bit on the dangerously shady side, which was something the two of them were very accustomed to. They drove the car right up to the gate, which promptly rose after a few moments. Spood drove it in and the two excited to find themselves greeted with nothing but smiles. The guy was creepy, with a weird accent Fisty couldn't discern. The one thing she could discern was that he was a cheap bastard. After some successful negotiation, mostly with unveiled threats of physical harm did they agree on a price. The two thugs walked off of the warehouse very happy and considerably more rich than when they entered.

Fisty was still looking over the scratch as they made their way around the corner of the building.

“Four-Five thousand fucking bucks. Dude. We're millionaires!” Fisty cackled in delight, wave a stack of cash at Spood tauntingly.

“Hey now we can afford a hooker that will let you stick that stinky pencil dick in her!”

"Five-thousand bucks!? Are you fucking insane!?" Spood raised his voice at the man named Simeon after hearing his offer. "It's worth at least four hundred!" He pointed at the car while glaring at Simeon. Spood and Fisty weren't any geniuses when it came to business, Spood especially had been tricked to do work for far less money than the job was worth, but both of them knew this offer was bullshit. It was impossible to buy a new Lampadati Furore GT for under four hundred thousand, and while this one wasn't new it was in excellent condition thanks to LSC.

"My friend," Simeon replied, still a smile on his face. "You have to trust me, business is a complicated thing. Believe me, what I'm offering you is fair."

"Bullshit! We got fivehundred bucks for a Vulcan Ingot back in Carcer City once, you're trying to fuck us over!" Spood glared at Simeon who stopped smiling and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Oh, I see how it is." Simeon looked at both of them before pointing a finger at them. "The two of you are racists!"

"What?" Spood was surprised, his eyes widened at the sudden accusation.

"You are racists!" Simeon glared at them, his finger still pointing at them. "You think I'm trying to trick you just because of the color of my skin! Here I am, trying to help you who are less fortunate, trying to be a pillar of the community, and you are trying to rob me just because I am not caucasian!"

Spood was confused, pondering Simeons words in his head. After a while he turned to Fisty.

"Are we racists Fisty?" He asked honestly, rubbing his jaw as he was still thinking about it. "No, wait." He suddenly realized something, his face lighting up. "No, we're not racists." He turned to Simeon, an excited smile on his face. "We're not racists! We kill people no matter what color they are. Like, we've killed white people, there was that asian gang back home, I think they were Vietnamese..." Spood held his hand up and touched the tip of his fingers like he was checking off boxes on a list. "Some dudes from South America... and just today we killed some black guys!" Spood nodded at his words, thinking they were proof enough that they weren't racists. "They we're part of some gang, what were they called, the Balls... Ballas? Yeah, Ballas."

Simeon was about to say something, but stopped himself when he took a closer look at Spood and Fisty. He had been about to call them liars and continue to call them racists, a tactic that often worked for him when it came to business, but now when he really looked at them he realized that the red blotches on Spood's shirt and skin wasn't fashion or a skin condition, it was blood spatter. He also realized that they were armed, meaning that they were probably telling the truth and had no problems with killing people.

"Well, my friend, let's calm down, I'm sure we can work out a deal that will make everyone happy." Simeon forced an uncertain smile at them, knowing he now had to tread very carefully to not risk getting shot.

“Fourty-Five thousand fucking bucks. Dude. We're millionaires!” The negotiations had turned out in Fisty and Spoods favor, mostly because they threatened to break Simeon's fingers every time he gave them an offer they thought was too low. But when he made the jump from fifteen grand to fourty-five they accepted, probably because they didn't think they could get more than twenty for it.

"Holy fuck dude, I've never seen so much cash in my life!" He tried to snatch the cash out of Fisty's hand a couple of times, wanting to hold them, wanting to know how it felt to have that much money in your hand. "We should buy a huge TV and every movie Jack Howitzer ever made! No, wait! Our own Cluckin' Bell! No, wait!" Spood's mind raced, imagining what they could do with that kind of cash.

“Hey now we can afford a hooker that will let you stick that stinky pencil dick in her!”

"Hey!" Spood frowned at Fisty, stopping in front of her, no longer trying to get the cash. "It's not stinky!" He shoved his hand down his pants, rubbing his fingers against his junk before pulling his hand out and sniffing it. He grimaced and moved his hand away, the pungent smell too much for him. "Shit, I got ball sweat like you wouldn't believe! This fuckin' heat dude, smell it." He shoved his hand towards Fisty's nose, urging her to smell his fingers.

They sat down on a railing nearby and looked through the newspaper Spood had stolen earlier, this one not too badly shredded by his shotgun blast. They looked through the apartment listings, trying to find a place to buy.

"Man, it's fucking expensive here," Spood exclaimed while he scratched his head. In Carcer City they could've bought a house with the kind of money they had, but here it was a different story. Houses were expensive, they needed to look for an apartment.

"Wait, here's something." Spood pointed at an ad in the paper. "One bedroom, water and electricity included. Sixty grand, then twohundred bucks a month. It's somewhere called Rancho." He rolled the paper and shoved it in his backpocket as he stood up. "We should check it out. Maybe we can cut a deal with the landlord, otherwise you might have to blow him to get him to lower the price."

They hailed a cab and got in, asking the cabbie to drive them to the corner of Jamestown street and Carson avenue. The overweight cabbie stared at them in silence for a while, a look on his face that seemed to ask them if they were crazy. When they didn't change their destination he simply shrugged and started driving. Neither Spood or Fisty knew why he had given them that look, but they didn't really care. Shortly after the cabbie dropped them off they realized why he had given them that look.

"What the fuck!?" Spood exclaimed as they stood on the sidewalk, noticing all the young hispanic men dressed in yellow. "Another gang? This shit is getting ridiculous." He and Fisty stood out like a sore thumb, quickly gaining the attention of the men dressed in yellow and other people, most of them also hispanic. One of the men dressed in yellow across the street lifted his shirt to flash his piece in an attempt to make them leave. However, Spood was feeling oddly diplomatical and decided to defuse the situation.

"Don't worry!" He yelled as he took a step forward. "We're not here to kill you! We've already killed Ballas today!" While it didn't work as intended, it did work. The gangmembers talked among themselves, many of them having heard about the Ballas being killed just beyond the railway, wondering if it really were them that had done it. Fisty and Spood didn't stick around to confirm that it was them, instead heading over to the apartment complex, looking for the landlords apartment.

After a few minutes of searching, and with the help of a very nice old lady that lived there, they found the landlords place and banged on his door, waiting for him to show up. The door opened a few moments later by a hispanic man that seemed to be in his forties with thick and unkempt black hair on his head. He was about average height, had broad shoulders and was slightly overweight. He wasn't ugly, though he wasn't really attractive either. He looked pretty average.

"Yes?" He asked, a slight accent to his speech. "What do you want?"

"Hey, we read that you had an apartment for sale? We wanted to check it out." The man eyed the two thugs standing in fron of him, noticing that both of them were armed and that the one who seemed to be blind on one eye was covered in blood spatter.

"Are you sure? You know this is Vagos' territory right?" He didn't seem concerned with their appearance, he was more concerned with how the Vagos would react if two white thugs moved in right on their turf.

"Vagos?" Spood asked, tilting his head. "You mean the guys dressed in yellow? Don't worry about them, we're cool. They like us." He assumed they were, they had killed members of a rival gang after all. The DNF liked them after that, by that logic the Vagos should like them too.

"Alright then." The man reached for a set of keys hanging on the wall before exiting his apartment, closing the door behind him. "Let's go take a look, shall we? I'm Miguel Santana." He extended his hand and Spood shook it enthusiastically while grinning widely.

"I'm Travis, but people call me Spood. This is Fisty." He nodded towards the redhead next to him, impressed that Miguel didn't check out her breasts, instead keeping eye contact with her.

"This is actually a housing project," Miguel told them as they followed him to the apartment. "But noone wants this apartment. So, after three years of it being empty I asked the authorities what the hell I should do with it since they refused to fix it, and they told me to sell it. So, here we are."

"Three years? What's wrong with it?" Spood asked as Miguel opened a door and walked up a flight of stairs, stopping to unlock a door just next to the staircase.

"Oh, you'll see." He opened the door and they stepped inside, taking a look around them. The place was a mess and smelled funky, the ceiling over the kitchen black thanks to an electrical fire. The carpet in the living room-area had a large red stain on it, probably blood. There were holes in the wall, some of them seemed to be from bullets. There were some furniture left, like an old green couch, a bench with a small tv on it, and in the bedroom was only a mattress that seemed surprisingly new, almost in pristine shape. It really clashed with the rest of the apartment.

"The bathroom is in pretty good shape," Miguel said as he gestured towards it. "There's some mold and a few cracked tiles, but otherwise it's perfect." Fisty and Spood took a look around and eventually turned to each other, Spood nodding at her.

"We'll take it. But you have to slash the price man." Miguel shook his head in response.

"Can't do that. Sixtythousand, it's final."

Spood frowned, thinking. They didn't have that kind of cash, how could they convince Miguel to lower the price?

"Fisty, you wanna... you know?" Spood mumbled as he glanced at Miguel, implying that maybe Fisty should blow him, or even fuck him. That didn't go over so well, but he realized something they could try. He asked Fisty for the cash and took a couple of stacks of it, holding it in his hand, showing it to Miguel.

"Miguel, we got forty grand here. We don't have sixty, but we can give you forty right here, right now." Miguel shook his head again.

"I'm sorry, but I can't sell it for lower than sixty. The people I work for won't allow it."

"Why do they have to know?" Spood asked, the implication being clear. "Forty grand, straight down your pocket. And we'll still give you an extra twohundred bucks a month." Miguel's eyes widened as he thought about it, his eyes fixated on the money in Spood's hand. He wanted to say yes, but he hesitated, thinking about what might happen if they were found out. Spood grew tired of waiting and showed the stacks into Miguel's hand, forcing him to grip them.

"Just give us the keys, man."

"Noone can know about this, OK?" Miguel replied as he handed Spood the keys. "You can't tell anyone."

"You know it." Spood grinned as he got the keys and shook Miguel's hand again, Miguel leaving shortly after.

"Shit dude, we're homeowners!" Spood exclaimed as he did a little twirl and plopped down on the couch, a spring in it snapping as he landed on it. "We did the right choice dude! We've been here a day and we've already gotten this far! Los Santos is fucking awesome!" Spood bounced off the couch and ran up to her, picking her up before quickly setting her down, forgetting that he wasn't really strong enough to pick her up.

"It's time to fucking celebrate! I saw a liquor store on the way over here, I'm gonna get some booze! You coming?"

The place was a shit hole. It smelled of mildew and despair, the carpet was stained with blood and the windows were so crusted with filth that the room was bathed in a sickly brown haze. Dust hung in the air, visible in the dusky light. Fisty waved a hand in front of her face and coughed, her amber gaze drifting about the living room of the apartment. Her nostrils flared as she snorted, a typical thing from her. She strode about the place, sizing it up and down, disappearing into the bedroom, the bathroom before she emerged and snorted once more. This time she hacked and let fly a ball of phlegm onto the carpet, right on top of the reddish brown stain in the middle of the room.

“This place is a shithole, man.” She commented, though as she said it a smile drifted over her lips. By many people’s standards the place would be unlivable, but to these two, it was paradise. She moved towards the couch, though just then Spood leapt up and wrapped his arms about her. He tried in vain to pick her up, only getting her feet a few inches off the floor. Fisty growled menacingly regardless and before he could let go she slammed her forehead right into his own. The resounding crack echoed through both their heads. But hey…at least it wasn’t his nose.

“Fuck off yah moron!” Fisty all but hissed, shoving Spood away before she turned back towards her original destination. She collapsed onto the couch and flopped down herself, only to let out a dramatic sigh. The couch groaned and another spring snapped, Fisty felt herself sinking into the couch slowly but surely. The day was finally catching up to the woman, whose eyelids were getting heavier by the second. She didn’t hear Spood at first, indeed, she only caught it when he asked if she was coming. She blinked swiftly, shaking the daze from her mind before she had Spood repeat his statement again, slowly this time, he had a habit of talking fast but the kid was high strung.

“Nah. You got get us some smokes and beers. Just don’t start anymore gang wars, aight?” Fisty retreated the small baggie of pot she had snagged off the dead Ballas earlier. She proceeded to pack herself a nice little bowl, her drug paraphernalia dragged from her bag. Only when she heard the door slam closed did Fisty start to relax. All she needed was a little time away from her bestie, he did grate on her last nerve something fierce. Fisty smoked the entire bowl and lounged back and after hacking out half a lung finally started to feel it. That warm, tingling feeling that made everything okay. Yeah, things were going to be alright. Fisty wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but after what felt like hours she finally pushed up with a groan.

“Fuck this place is hot,” She protested, tugging at her shirt and waving her hands under her armpits. The temperature of the city was a stark contrast to what they two were use to. It was going to take some time to get acclimated. In the meantime Fisty would just bitch and complain. That was just what she did, though as she stalked her way through the apartment she began to disrobe. Her holster and gun were left on the couch, way out of reach if the shit were to hit the fan, but Fisty wasn’t in the right state of mind to worry about that. Next were her boots, which took some time to unlace before she pried them off her feet. Her socks were rancid, she gagged as she peeled them off and tossed them aside. By then she was halfway down the hallway, her shirt was drawn up and over her head, rustling her fiery mane and making those tempting breasts jostle and jiggle with their newfound freedom. Her shirt was left over the threshold of the bathroom, her panties tossed over the sink and her panties hung delicately from the towel rack. Only when she was completely bare did Fisty start up the shower, which sputtered and groaned before spewing out the tepid water. It never actually got ‘hot’, but it was enough to cool the girl off while she rinsed herself of the day’s sweat.

Fisty was glistening with water droplets as she emerged from the bathroom, the towel she had grabbed currently flopped over her head as she vigorously dried her red mane. She trailed water from the bathroom back to the living room, where she had left her bag. She let the towel hang about her shoulder as she hefted it up and onto the couch and proceeded to dig around within it for tonight’s attire. Just another T-shirt and panties, there wasn’t much more that she needed.

By the time the door swung open and Spood made his grand entrance Fisty was tugging the shirt over her head, drawing the hem down over her waist and drawing the material tightly over her bustline. It didn’t go much further, which left her bottom half exposed completely. She was still wet from the shower, which made the shirt cling all the more greedily. There was no hint of modesty, even with the door open she glanced over her shoulder, fully displaying that deliciously taut and toned derriere.

“You get the booze? Please don’t tell me you got more chicken. If I gotta smell more of that fried shit I’m gonna start pukin’ right now.”

Fisty didn't exactly share Spood's excitement, at least not enough to want a hug. She displayed this by headbutting him, her forehead crashing violently into his, making him stumble and lose his balance.

"OW!!!" Spood screamed from the pain as he let go of Fisty, his hands going to his forehead, wondering if he was bleeding.

“Fuck off yah moron!” Fisty shoved him, making him lose his balance again and crash to the floor in front of the couch, landing on the glob of phlegm she had produced earlier.

"That fucking hurt!" Spood rubbed his forehead and checked his hand, looking for blood. He rested on one of his elbows as he glared at Fisty who was now lying on the couch above him. "You ball-bustin' dickhead!" His anger didn't last long though, instead he started laughing when he realized he was right on top of the bloodstain and laid down flat on it.

"Hey Fisty, check it out! I'm a murdervictim!" He let his head flop to the side and made a grimace, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He stood up after only a few seconds, suggesting that they should go and get some booze. It appeared that she didn't hear him, so he asked her again, noticing that she seemed really tired.

“Nah. You got get us some smokes and beers. Just don’t start anymore gang wars, aight?” Spood scoffed at her comment, frowning at Fisty.

"Me? Dude, you were the one that started murdering Balls! No, wait, Ballas?" He quickly thought about what they were named. "Yeah, Ballas. God, that's a stupid fucking name, isn't it?" He took out his wallet, checking to see if he had any money on him. He did, finding the fivehundred dollars they had stolen from mr Bergenstein. He also found his creditcard, wondering if it was still any good. "I'll be back in a while, beer and smokes right?" He headed to the door and left the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

It took Spood a while to return as he got lost on his way to the liquor store. How he managed that was a mystery since it was more or less right behind their apartment, just a short walk away. He managed to get the door open even with his hands full and pushed it open with his hip, the door swinging open and smacking into the wall.

“You get the booze? Please don’t tell me you got more chicken. If I gotta smell more of that fried shit I’m gonna start pukin’ right now.”

"Couldn't find one," Spood said with disappointment in his voice as he looked up at Fisty, getting a view of her nice ass and legs. And while they were really nice Spood didn't really react to the sight, he was used to see her naked. "But I got the other stuff. A carton of Redwoods, case of Pisswasser, and I got us a bottle of Maclain's whiskey." He sniffed the air, noticing a familiar scent in the air. "Aw, you lit up without me? Rude, hope you saved some for me. I got us some rolling paper by the way." He sat the booze and the other stuff down on the countertop in the kitchen, sighing with relief. It had been pretty heavy to carry, at least for him.

"Why don't you have any pants on anyway?" Spood grabbed a bottle of Pisswasser and opened it against the countertop, taking a couple of large gulps from the bottle. "You gonna fuck someone?" He was being sarcastic, but then he realized that she might actually be about to do it and his eyes widened. "Shit, you about to fuck someone? Awesome!" Spood hopped up on the counter and pulled his boots off, struggling with it. "Guy or girl? Hell, I don't even care, it's been a while since I got to watch you bang." His boots fell to the floor and he hopped down on it, unzipping his jeans, excited about watching Fisty have sex. He had completely forgotten about her earlier demand that he should stop watching her and get his own girl, instead he was acting like an excited dog who wanted someone to throw the ball. Or in Spood's case, wanting Fisty to play with her partner's balls. Or breasts, if it was a girl.

His hopes were crushed by Fisty though when she told him that there was noone there she was about to fuck.

"Oh, a shower huh?" Spood pouted, his unzipped jeans falling down to his knees as he stood there like a sulking child who had been denied ice cream. As he stood there he felt something smell funny and realized that it was him. He looked down on himself and had no problem understanding why; he was dirty, sweaty, and had stains of blood on him.

"Yeah, I could use one too." He pulled his pants off and tossed them on the kitchen floor before walking towards the bathroom. As he walked over there he managed to pull off his socks by planting his heel at the front of the sock. He took of his shirt too, pulling it over his head and tossing it away, eventually landing on the tv. Once he was inside the bathroom he pulled off his underwear, leaving the pair of boxers on the floor.

While the shower wasn't warm it felt really nice, the water washing off the sweat and blood from him, creating slightly pink streams that disappeared into the drain. He couldn't find any soap and made a mental note that they should buy some, but for now he had to settle with scrubbing himself as clean as possible. He spent a little extra time cleaning his groin, especially his balls. The smell before had been terrible and he rubbed his hands over them, feeling the nice, smooth sensation that came from having his pubes trimmed the week before. He looked down and grabbed his smooth penis by the base, smacking it against his thigh a few times.

"Order in the court!" He pretended that it was a gavel for a moment, snickering as he did, but stopped when he felt himself starting to become stiff. He didn't want to go out to Fisty while he was sporting wood. Not that he was shy, far from it, but she didn't seem to be in her best mood and he didn't want to piss her off while giving her a target to take out her anger on. And since he was kinda big when he was erect, standing at eight inches and being pretty damn thick, it was a big target.

He cursed when he finished showering and looked for a towel, realizing that the only towel in the bathroom was covered in mold. He sniffed it once before tossing it on the floor, not about to use it to dry himself off. He picked up his underwear but realized that they were too dirty to wear, even by Spood's standards. He washed them off in the sink and hanged them off the edge of it to dry before walking out completely nude.

"I'm getting pants," he said as he entered the living room, his hands raised. "Don't throw a fit, alright?" He walked over to the kitchen and put on his pants, his back turned to Fisty as he did so. "The credit card is dead by the way," he said as he pulled up his zipper. "The clerk at the liquor store said it had been killed, so mr Bergenstein won't be sponsoring us any more. Shame." Spood grabbed another Pisswasser and the rolling paper and walked over to the couch, plopping down next to Fisty.

"Hand me the pot, will you?" Spood rolled himself a joint with ease, something he had done a hundred times before. He put the rolled-up piece of paper between his lips and grabbed the lighter, lighting it up. He puffed on the joint a few times before inhaling on it, filling his lungs with the smoke. He stifled a couple of coughs as he held it in before exhaling slowly, the smoke leaving his mouth and rising towards the ceiling.

"Shit, dude," he said as he leaned backward into the couch, his body relaxing as a wide smile spread across his face. "This is pretty good. Different from the stuff back home." He took another drag, blowing the smoke out through his nose, quickly following with a sip of beer. "Fuck, Fisty. We made more cash today than we've ever made, and on our first day here." He took another sip of beer, this time spilling some on the eagle tattooed on his bare chest. "Ah, shit." He wiped it off with his hand before brushing it off on his jeans. "We need to buy some stuff tomorrow, like food and shit. I could use some clothes too," he added when he looked at his clothes thrown around the room, remembering that he didn't have anything else but them.

Fisty's eyes were on the goodies in Spood's arms. She watched greedily as he moved, though even if it looked like he had his arms full she made no movement or indication that she was going to help him. Indeed, as he set them down on the counter she sauntered up and snatched herself a bottle of Pisswasser and a pack of Redwoods before she turned back to the couch and flopped down unceremoniously. She gave the pack a few good, sharp whacks before she unwrapped it and fished out a cancer stick. With the skilled precision of a professional lowlife she lit up the cigarette, slammed off the cap of her bottle and took a swig without missing a beat. The trail of smoke was snaking into the air by the time Spood came to the conclusion that Fisty was about to get some. She arched a brow and leaned back, kicked her feet up on a nearby egg crate and crossed them at the ankles.

“Why is it always about sex with you?” She sighed in frustration, tilting the longneck back and hastily downing the contents before tossing it aside. She finished her thought with a resounding belch before she gave Spood another disgusted look. She gestured towards him and his pants around his knees, her cigarette dangling from between two fingers.

“Do somethin' with that, will yah? Yer balls smelled like a dead camel's ass. Seriously. That smell isn't natural. You should go see a doctor, or at least a Vet. Maybe get some really nice pills...” Fisty slowly trailed off in mid-thought, the cigarette placed back between her lips for another puff. She made no indication that she was going to put pants on, or even a pair of panties. She had delicate skin, you couldn't towel dry that stuff without ruining it. No, it was all air dried for her, at least that was what she was telling herself, not that anyone asked.

Spood disappeared, presumably to take a shower. Fisty didn't know, didn't care, not as she pushed up and collected a few more bottles of piss and the whiskey. It was just easier this way, she wouldn't have to get back up anytime soon. She turned on the TV on her pass to the booze and sat down to enjoy the tube. She caught the end of Weazel News, which was good since she fucking hated the news. Such a waste of time. But she was in luck, since next up was none other that Republican Space Rangers. Fisty cracked open another bottle and a grin as she settled back to watch the fun, it was her favorite episode too! She cackled and shouted at the television set, even tossed a half-empty bottle at the screen (thankfully she missed and it shattered against the back wall).

By the time Spood emerged Fisty was in a relatively good mood. The pot was good, the beer was piss and the smokes extremely carcinogenic, and the TV loud and blaring, what more could a girl want? Of course part of the enjoyment didn't include Spood's dong flapping out for everyone to see. Talk about a hypocrite. Fisty outwardly cringed and pointed at him as he passed.

“Fuck man! Cover that thing up!” She declared from her place on the couch, even as she sat there with her legs spread, still with nothing on but a T-shirt. Once Spood was out of sight though Fisty easily got distracted by the pretty, flashing lights of the TV, she even giggled dumbly at the antics on the screen.

“Hehehe...this is the best part, Dick shits in the U.S. Capitol model,” She pointlessly pointed out. If anyone was a fan of the show it was Spood, who was almost as much of a fangirl over it as he was Fame or Shame. The one thing that could get her attention though was the mention of money, namely their newly found credit card. She scrunched up her face at the mention of it being dead.

“What a twat, man. Least we got his address, right? We should pay Mr. Bergenstein a visit sometime. He has such nice things,” Fisty idly commented as she took a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle, twitched, sputtered, coughed and followed it down with another bottle of piss. She handed over the pot without a second thought, by now the routine was becoming commonplace. At the end of the night they usually ended up crashing in front of the TV, that was if they made it home, which happened more often than not. Fisty reached for the joint and took a mighty puff, held it in for as long as she could before releasing it in a boisterous fit of coughs.

“That's some primo shit, man.” She concluded, not that she had to since she had already smoked a bowl. Her lids were getting heavy by then and the typical angry scowl was slowly being replaced by a passive, sleepy smile. Her brows slowly rose as she looked over at Spood, finally taking him in briefly. It seemed that the bowl finally kicked in, mellowing her groove considerably.

“Yeah...Food...shit...clothes...” She regurgitated his words without really thinking about them. Slowly something entered her mind and she simply could force it away. It was waving in front of her, dangling really, long and limp but still mighty. Spood was a decently attractive male, his eye really wasn't that weird, it made him unique really. He had nice hair, what wasn't shaved and his body was lean and compact, something many people liked in a man. And well, he was considerably endowed.

“Hey,” Fisty suddenly blurted out, without bothering to remember Spood was already on a topic. “I always wanted to ask...why don't you get more pussy? I mean...It's not like you ain't packin' some serious heat, yah know? I'm sure there's all kinds of bitches that would let you break it off in their asses...but you always come watch me fuck.” She waved a hand over herself, arching her back and spreading her legs even further, the glow from the TV highlighting the taut muscles in her thighs and abs.

“I mean...I get that part. I'm fuckin' hot as shit. Have you seen my ass? You can bounce a fuckin' quarter off that shit. But you never brought home your own pussy. Why the fuck not?” Fisty leaned in as she asked the question, her amber gaze glossy from the drugs and alcohol. Her tone had changed too, far from the judgmental, angry tone she always used. It was low and husky, a rumble in her throat as if speaking any louder would be too difficult. Those glossy eyes drifted over Spood slowly, taking in his ink before her eyes settled on his pants.

“Is lil Spoody scured of womens?” Fisty used her most ridiculous baby voice, a vicious grin drifting across her lips as she reached out and poked at the front of his pants with her free hand.

Spood only got to watch the very end of Republican Space Rangers, something that really annoyed him. He loved that show, and despite having seen the episode before he hated knowing that if he hadn't taken a shower when he did he could've watched it with Fisty.

"Fuck, what else is on?" He grabbed the remote and changed the channel, flipping through them until the screen was filled with bright colors and a set of large tits.

"Aw, dude! Princess Robot Bubblegum!" Spood liked that show as well, though not for it's story. In fact, he had no idea what the story was really, but it was a show about a scantily clad girl with a huge rack who was constantly captured by tentacle monsters. That, and it had pretty colors.

Spood rolled himself a joint and lit up, Fisty soon reaching for it. Spood rambled on about various things as he tried to relax, not quite feeling the effects of the pot yet. For an outsider looking on the scene had to be very weird. Next to the thug with the mismatched eyes was a very attractive redhead that had only bothered to put on a t-shirt that barely covered her chest, leaving the rest of her completely nude. Despite this, the man barely looked at her. In fact, the few times he did look at her he was always looking her in the eyes, not even glancing at her mostly bare body. Was it that Spood thought Fisty was unattractive? Not at all, he thought she was hot as fuck, but she was also the closest friend he had and for some reason that made him barely look at her body. Except when she was fucking someone, then he had no problem taking her in, how the sweat glistened on her back as she rode some guy, how her muscles worked, how her breasts jiggled. And that was also part of it, he had seen her having sex so many times that just seeing her naked wasn't really a turn-on. It was like something was wired wrong in Spood, he only really appreciated her body in sexual situations.

“Hey.” Spood turned to Fisty when she spoke and he felt his eyelids starting to get heavy as he was starting to feel the effects of the pot. “I always wanted to ask...why don't you get more pussy? I mean...It's not like you ain't packin' some serious heat, yah know? I'm sure there's all kinds of bitches that would let you break it off in their asses...but you always come watch me fuck.”

"What?" Spood raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what the hell she was going on about all of a sudden. He looked down at her when she arched her back and spread her legs though he didn't do it to check her out, instead it was more of a natural reaction, like his eyes were drawn towards the movement.

“I mean...I get that part. I'm fuckin' hot as shit. Have you seen my ass? You can bounce a fuckin' quarter off that shit." Spood nodded at her comment, he had seen her do it before. "But you never brought home your own pussy. Why the fuck not?” Spood noticed the change in her voice and even moved away slightly when she leaned towards him, thinking she was acting weird. He had never seen her act like this, and he didn't like it, mostly because he didn't know how to handle it.

"Shit, I don't know," Spood replied as he emptied his beer, tossing the empty bottle towards the kitchen. "It's just... I don't... Fuck, what's with all the fucking questions, man? You're fucking up my buzz before it has even gotten started." Spood was starting to get annoyed, clearly uncomfortable with her questions. Fact was that she did have a point, why wasn't he getting laid more, or at all for that matter? Spood knew why, and it had all to do with Vanessa, the girl he lost his virginity to when he was seventeen. They only had sex once, and it was... not good to say the least, and the things that happened afterwards kinda messed Spood up when it came to sex and relationships. Spood grew quiet as he thought about what had happened all those years ago, trying to force the thoughts out of his head. He looked over at Fisty who was still very close to him, her drunken gaze slowly going over his body before fixating on his pants. Spood's eyes wandered between Fisty's eyes and his pants, trying to understand what she was looking at.

"What?" His question had an irritated tone.

“Is lil Spoody scured of womens?” Fisty suddenly poked his pants, pressing down the zipper against his soft member. Spood jolted when she did it but not from arousal, instead from surprise at her sudden action. He realized that she was taunting him and angrily smacked her hand away, a slight sting spreading through his fingers that hit her hand.

"Dude! What the fuck!?" He glared at her and shoved her away from him, though he didn't really make her move thanks to his lack of strength. "The hell is wrong with you Fisty, you're actin' fuckin' weird! You havin' a bad trip or some shit?"

The smack to her hand was real and sharp, enough to bring her out of the little haze she had lost herself in. Those amber orbs blinked sharply, regaining some of their sharpness as they refocused on Spood's face. First the look of confusion drifted over her face shortly followed by, you guessed it, anger. Her lips pursed tightly before a contemptuous snort flared her nostrils.

“The fuck is wrong with YOU!” She shot back, her frame shifting suddenly as she pushed up. The tuft of red hair atop her head fell to the right, swept down over the side of her face and tickled at her cheek and chin. She might have been considered pretty in that moment if she didn't wear such a disgusted look on her face.

“Do you secretly like dick, man? Is that it?” She posed the question without really thinking about it. Since, if she did, it wouldn't have made any logical sense at all. Fisty was still on the move, her frame drawing itself up and onto her knees as she turned to face him fully. She hadn't bothered to ponder the details of her own question, not as the most obvious idea sprung into her mind suddenly. She quirked a slender brow and tilted her head curiously to the side, like a dog perking its ear towards something of interest.

“Seriously though. Why haven't we ever fucked? I mean...I'm super hot...Yer...relatively good looking...with a big dick. Why haven't we ever done the nasty?” The question fell past her lips and Fisty drifted off to ponder it. For most of her life Spood had been there and for most of it his sexuality had been non-existent to her. How it never came up in their long and glorious criminal career was a mystery that her drug addled mind could not comprehend. There was one thing that she knew though, the thought of getting some sounded about right. She briefly wondered what Chucky was doing, though to inquire on that train of thought further would mean she needed to find her phone. Hell she didn't remember where she had left her pants, their clothing was tossed about the apartment haphazardly at this point. It would take some focused investigation to find the right piece of attire, even if it was at the foot of the couch. No, that was way too much work, there was an easier way of getting what she wanted. With that realization a knowing smirk drifted across her lips and those amber orbs twinkled dangerously.

“It's yer lucky day, Spoody ole boy. We're finally gonna see if you got what it takes to satisfy a real woman.” Fisty declared with a sinister little chuckle, before she briefly paused and pointed at herself. “The real woman being me.” She clarified just for the sake of clarity.

It was then that Fisty was on Spood like white on rice. There was little between them but a layer of denim and a metal zipper. Fisty threw herself into his lap, straddling his sleek hips as her hands grasped at the waistband of his jeans.

“C'mere, lil Spood. Momma wants to show you yer new home. It's kinda small, so it'll be a tight fit...but with some work you'll settle in nicely,” Fisty was in a chatty mood as she swept the zipper down and opened Spood's fly, her other hand popping the button out of place and literally 'freeing the beast'. She had seen it all before, but now, with sex on her mind, along with the copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, she was ready to make several really bad decisions in life.

“If yer a good boy and don't cum right away I'll let you pick the hole you bust a nut in, deal?” Fisty sweetened the pot, in the most obscene way possible. How could he possibly turn down that offer?

“The fuck is wrong with YOU!” Spood and Fisty glared at each other, both mad for different reasons.

"Me!?" Spood shifted in the couch and sat up, still glaring at Fisty who was moving around, her hair falling to the side.

“Do you secretly like dick, man? Is that it?”

"I..." Spood paused when he realized what she said, staring at her with a bewildered look on his face. "Wait, what? Where the fuck did that come from?" He wasn't really angry any more, instead he was confused. He had no idea how they went from Fisty acting weird to her questioning his sexuality. Spood wasn't gay, and while he wasn't offended by the question it was just really sudden.

"Do I like dick?" He repeated her question as she got on her knees and faced him. "Well, I like my own, I've had some great times with it. You've been there for a couple of 'em." He nodded towards her, referring to the times he had watched her have sex.

“Seriously though. Why haven't we ever fucked? I mean...I'm super hot...Yer...relatively good looking...with a big dick. Why haven't we ever done the nasty?”

"'Relatively' good looking?" Spood frowned at her choice of words, his eyebrows furrowing. "Gee, thanks," he added as he flipped her off and reached for the joint, taking another drag off it. He didn't hold the smoke in this time, instead exhaling almost immediately, angrily blowing the smoke towards the ceiling.

"I don't fucking know, we... we're friends, or some shit? Isn't there some sort of saying that friends shouldn't fuck or something like that?" Again Fisty had a valid question, why had they never banged? Fisty would fuck any guy or girl she deemed hot enough, and Spood wasn't exactly ugly. Fact was that there had been several girls interested in him back in Carcer City, but he never acted on any of those opportunities, again because of his experience with Vanessa. He still fantasized about sex with various girls, especially Patty Fuchs, but Fisty? No, he had never even thought about her like that. Even the times he watched her fuck the thought never crossed his mind, he was just enjoying the show, or imagining banging the girl she was with.

Spood took another drag off the joint, his lungs filling with the sweet smoke. He held it in for a while, pondering why he never thought about Fisty like that. "Is it 'cause we've known each other for ever?" The thought crossed his mind as he exhaled, blowing out a trail of smoke in front of him as he stared blankly at the tv in front of him, not even noticing the antics of Princess Robot Bubblegum as he was deep in thought. He even missed the way Fisty was looking at him.

“It's yer lucky day, Spoody ole boy. We're finally gonna see if you got what it takes to satisfy a real woman.”

"What?" Spood turned to her, having not really heard what she said, his mind processing the words he did catch. It was at that point Fisty pointed at herself which only made Spood raise a questioning eyebrow.

“The real woman being me.”

"What?" Spood didn't get any more time to process what Fisty had said as she suddenly straddled him, sitting down hard on his thighs. He looked at her, bewildered and about to tell her to fuck off when he felt her hands tugging on his jeans.

“C'mere, lil Spood. Momma wants to show you yer new home. It's kinda small, so it'll be a tight fit...but with some work you'll settle in nicely.” As her hand moved to his zipper Spood finally got it; she was about to fuck him. His hands quickly moved down to try and stop her, but he forgot he was still holding the joint in his hand and accidentally singed himself just below his stomach.

"OW! FUCK!" He threw the joint away which made a nice arch through the air as it spun around, landing on the floor next to an old magazine. Fisty used the momentary distraction to pull down his zipper and unbuttoned his pants, but Spood's hands were quickly there, grabbing hers.

"Goddamn it," he yelled at her as they struggled. "Fucking stop!" Spood couldn't let Fisty fuck him. He couldn't allow it to happen, he had to stop her by any means necessary. Their hands struggled around his now open fly, and despite Spood's unwillingness to do this he could see his manhood starting to make a bulge in his jeans, pressing up just below Fisty. "Traitor!" Spood thought angrily as he glared down at himself as if that would kill his growing erection.

“If yer a good boy and don't cum right away I'll let you pick the hole you bust a nut in, deal?” For a split second Spood actually considered Fisty's proposal, no longer struggling. It was an interesting offer to say the least, but he soon snapped back to reality and the reality was that he had to stop her.

"Fisty, fucking quit it!" He momentarily struggled with her hands before shoving the palm of his hand in her face, trying to push her away. "I'm warning you!" His other hand reached up under her shirt, his palm pushing against her soft flesh. He swallowed hard at the sensation against his hand, how nice her soft skin felt in his hand. For a moment he wanted to massage her breast, play with it, explore how Fisty would react at the stimulation, but he quickly collected himself and did what he came to do: He pinched Fisty's nipple hard in an attempt to make her stop, hoping it would hurt enough to give him a chance to get her off him.

"I fucking told you, I don't wanna!" He sounded like an angry child that didn't want to do his chores and was currently throwing a fit, angry that his mother was forcing him to do it.

What did Fisty get for her troubles? A palm in her face shoving her away and an angry nipple twist. It was enough to set the woman off, not that it really took much. The familiar twitch of her right brow happened, followed by the all too familiar anger that rose to the surface. Fisty swatted at Spood’s pathetic attempts to shoo her away, batted his hand from her face and brought her fist down straight into his throat for a sharp jab. It was enough to knock the air straight from his lungs, but wouldn’t have any lasting effects. It served its purpose, Fisty wasn’t above resorting to violence to get her way even when it involved sex. It wasn’t every day that she willing offered herself up to someone, at least someone like Spood. And it wasn’t every day that she got turned down so blatantly either, actually, she couldn’t remember the last time someone told her no. Most guys weren’t stupid enough to pass up a deal like this and any woman she hooked up with was just as eager as she was from the get go.

So Fisty dealt with the situation as she would anything else, with her fucking fist! She grabbed Spood by his rooster hawk mane and slammed his head back against the wall behind the couch. That one was for the nipple twist, even if she had actually liked it. That much was evident now as they were standing at attention, hard and aroused, straining the material of her T-shirt.

“Listen here you little fuckin’ shit. You don’t throw my gift in my face. You think you got a choice? I’m fuckin’ you one way or another. Yer my little bitch now.” Gone was the rumbling purr of seduction in her voice, returned had the causal and easy anger that shone in her amber gaze and tightened her beautiful visage. It didn’t matter if Spood could hear her, after all she had given him a brutal one two that would have put most people out of commission pretty easily. But not Spood, he could handle a punch and in all actuality Fisty was using her kid gloves on him at the moment. Her hand remained in his hair, gripping it sharply to keep him forced back against the couch. Her free hand slid between them, flicking open his jeans and tugging down the zipper with a practiced, deft ease. Fisty tugged the flaps aside and let her hand slid within, offering a low growl of approval at what she found. She knew Spood’s size, his girth and length, but never before had she been this up close and personal.

“See? I knew you wanted this, you fuckin’ pervert. Yer already hard. Look!” Fisty laughed the words, a brutal rumble as she jerked his shaft free of his jeans. She held him tightly, perhaps a little too tightly, only to give him a swift stroke from base to tip. Usually that would be enough to settle anyone and get them in the mood, but Spood still had some fight in him. Stupid kid. Fisty released his shaft and slid her hand further into his jeans, only to cup his sac and take a hold of him by the roots.

“I told you to fuckin’ chill. Yer mine, bitch. Keep strugglin’ and I will twist these off and shove em in yer mouth. Now stop! Yer ruinin’ the mood.” Fisty gave Spood one single squeeze to reinforce her words before she released him. Her hand slid back over his shaft, giving it a swift slap before she brought her hand to before her and ran her tongue over her palm and finger slowly. She flashed Spood a wicked grin as she did, before her hand slid back down. This time though she slid it between her own toned thighs, brushing it against her mound and gingerly rubbing her glistening fingers against herself. She squirmed at her own touch, gave a gentle murmur of excitement as she prepared herself.

“Gotta get us a little wet…since foreplay is out of the question,” She hissed softly, bringing her hand back to her mouth for another lick, before she spat heavily into her palm. She brought the hand back down, this time to Spood’s shaft and gave it a few through strokes from base to tip, smearing her saliva across his length, especially the crown of his head. Only when she was certain she had covered them both as adequately as her saliva would do she moved again. Slowly she shifted over him, straddled his lap completely and let her hips hover over him. With her hand still in his hair she used her free one to guide him against her sex, brushing the rigid head against her slit as she positioned themselves both. Fisty let out a little gasp at the sensation of that hot flesh against her own, the anger drifting away slowly as the tingle of pleasure returned.

“That’s it…mmhn…just relax Spoody baby. Momma Fisty gonna fuckin’ rock yer world. Here…play with these…” Fisty reached for her top, tugged it up and over her chest to release her ample breasts, which jostled and jiggled enticingly as they were released. She snatched up Spood’s right wrist and slapped his hand against the swell of her left breast, encouraging him to touch her as her shapely hips instinctively rocked down against him. Her lips remained parted as a husky little gasp escaped from her as she urged Spood within her, forcing herself to relent and accept that magnificent girth.

“Ah-Ahhn…Fuck! That’s it!” She tilted her head back, savoring the sensation as she worked her hips in a slow figure eight above Spood. It was slow going, after all the moment hadn’t exactly been the most arousing. So she had to take it a little bit at a time, literally, urging Spood inch by glorious inch within her tight sheath. She was working up quite a sweat, already perspiration beaded upon her brow and that toned, hard body. Fisty didn’t relent though, she continued to rock down against him, forcing him further within her till she thought she couldn’t go any further. Her hands slid to the couch behind Spood, grasping it tightly as she leaned over him and let out a fierce moan of passion.

“Jesus Christ…Yer so thick! Why haven’t I fucked you sooner!?” Fisty bellowed loudly, uncaring that the walls of their new apartment were paper thin. She shuddered and bucked, pressing her hips flush against Spood’s as he hilted within her fully. Fisty was incredibly tight, she gripped that invading shaft so fiercely that it felt almost as intense as her fist about him previously had. She was in her element now, one of the few things that Fisty did very well was fuck. The other, well, that was where she got her nickname from. Sometimes those two things came smashing together in a glorious burst of violence and sex. She had a feeling it was going to be one of those nights.

“Want me to spit in your mouth?” She asked Spood as she hovered over him, slowly drawing herself up until just the tip of his head lay nestled against her petals. She arched a brow and tilted her head, giving a shrug as she thrust herself back down. “Uhhn…Some people like that…geeze. Fuck it…C’mon big boy. Show me what you got…!”

Spood was about to poke Fisty in the eye just before she swatted his hand away from her face. Their eyes met and he glared at her, pissed that she was trying to force him into doing this. He reached for her face again, his other hand still tightly twisting her nipple, but before he reached her he felt her fist connect with his throat, hitting him straight over his adam's apple.

"KUH-HUUOOWWW!" Spood let out a sound that sounded like a broken fuel injector as the air left his lungs. His hands quickly retreated from what they were doing as his eyes started to well up from the sudden strike. Before he could clutch his own throat he felt something tugging roughly on his hair, his head being violently forced back until it smashed into the wall behind him. His teeth rattled from the impact and his vision became temporarily blurry as the back of his head hit a stud in the wall, had he missed it his head probably would've went straight through the plaster.

“Listen here you little fuckin’ shit. You don’t throw my gift in my face. You think you got a choice? I’m fuckin’ you one way or another. Yer my little bitch now.” Spood heard her, but right now the words didn't register. His world was spinning and his hands slowly moved around in the air as he tried to focus on them, sometimes brushing against her arm which still had a firm grip of his hair and held him planted against the couch.

"Why can' I move mah heads?" His voice was rough and his speech was slightly slurred, but he was starting to regain focus and realized the reason he couldn't move his head was because of the fist embedded in his mohawk. He was about to try and remove her hand from his hair when he felt her hand dive into his pants and wrap around his still hard length, something that made the redhead in his lap growl.

“See? I knew you wanted this, you fuckin’ pervert. Yer already hard. Look!” She laughed as she said it and roughly freed him from his jeans, the tight grip she had on him making him pulsate in her hand.

"Fisty, wait." His voice sounded like something from an old LP, small cracks in his words as he had to force the words out. Despite enjoying the way her hand clamped down on him he still realized that he had to stop her.

"Fucking stop, leave me the hell alone!" He tried to yell at her but couldn't, instead his voice was slightly lower than usual and every word he uttered was very strained. She stroked him once which made Spood let out a low moan and sent a tingle through his stomach. It felt so good, but he hadn't given up just yet and threw a punch at her which connected with her chest, just above her tempting breasts. He gave it all he had, but since he never had any real power in his punches it barely affected her. Instead he soon learned what a mistake he had made when her hand reached down and grabbed his sack, making Spood tense up and stay completely still in fear that any movement from him would end very badly for him.

“I told you to fuckin’ chill. Yer mine, bitch. Keep strugglin’ and I will twist these off and shove em in yer mouth. Now stop! Yer ruinin’ the mood.” She gave him a quick squeeze which made Spood wince in pain and jerk beneath her and he held his arms out to the sides, trying to show her that he didn't want her to hurt him.

"Fuck, shit, OK, OK, I quit! I'll behave, OK?" His body was still tense and he only relaxed a little when she let go of him. She slapped his length, making it momentarily sway to the sides. Spood groaned in pleasure from the treatment, he honestly had no idea that a slap could feel that good. Had it been lower it would've been the end of the night for him, that's for sure.

With his head still forced back he looked Fisty in the eyes, still some uncertainty in his own. Fisty on the other hand looked determined as she slowly licked her hand, making it wet. She grinned at him and moved her hand down between her legs, rubbing her fingers against herself, a low sound of excitement escaping her lips. Spood's erect length twitched at the sight and he could feel his urethra starting to fill up with his seed. The sight before him did excite him, even though he still didn't want to do this.

“Gotta get us a little wet…since foreplay is out of the question.” She spit into her hand, saliva dripping from it as her hand moved to Spood's shaft and stroked it, covering him with her saliva.

"Uuunnnh." Spood let out a painful-sounding groan as she stroked him, but fact was that he truly enjoyed the feeling of her hand moving up and down around him, the tingling making him close his eyes and arch his back. It was so different from when he took care of himself as she somehow managed to stroke spots that he didn't even know he had and everytime she hit one it made his legs tense up beneath her. Had he been stronger he probably would've sent her flying up in the air when she made him jolt, but now he barely lifted her.

Spood looked at her when she let go of him and watched as she shifted, moving closer to him and letting his excitement point straight up between her legs. Spood's heart started hammering in his chest as she grabbed him and started lowering herself towards him. His breath was becoming unsteady as he started to panic, realizing that this was actually happening, Fisty was going to fuck him against his will.

"W-wait, Fisty... unnf! Aaah..." They gasped in unison as she brushed him against her, something wet covering his tip. His legs felt restless at the sensation and they momentarily lifted from the floor as Spood's fingers clawed into the couch, his breath coming out between his gritted teeth.

“That’s it…mmhn…just relax Spoody baby. Momma Fisty gonna fuckin’ rock yer world. Here…play with these…” Fisty pulled her top over her head, her breasts jiggling right in front of Spood's eyes. Despite having seem them so many times before they excited him tremendously this time, probably because she wanted him to touch them, something made very clear as she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her breast, her hard little nipple pressing against the palm of his hand. Spood's reason was completely gone by now and he couldn't even remember why he didn't want to fuck Fisty as his hand massaged her breast with unsure movements. His other hand soon grabbed her other breast and he moved them in circles as he massaged them, amazed by how her flesh stuck out between his fingers as he gave them a squeeze, catching her nipples between his fingers. His fingers clamped down on her roughly as she slowly started lowering herself on him, the sudden sensation around the head making his body tense up again as he let out a short groan between gritted teeth.

“Ah-Ahhn…Fuck! That’s it!” Spood pressed his head back, a gasp escaping his mouth as he tried to endure the feeling of her clamping down around the top of his manhood. His eyes lowered to watch her hips gyrate, slowly taking him in, his pulsating length sinking deeper into her. His whole groin tingled as she was forcing him inside, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched himself disappear inside her.

"Aah, Fisty... Ah, shit! Oh fuck!" He threw his head back again and gritted his teeth as her warmth enveloped him, clamping his eyes shut. His hands had moved to clawing at the couch again and his legs shook, a small rattle heard as his zipper sometimes touched. He was sinking so unbelievably deep inside her when she suddenly leaned over him, making her breasts jiggle just in front of his face.

“Jesus Christ…Yer so thick! Why haven’t I fucked you sooner!?”

"Fuck, I don't fucking know! Grnngh!" He let out a growl as she planted herself against his hips, taking all of him in. Spood more or less attacked her enticing breasts, his mouth clamping down on one of her nipples, sucking on it as his tongue circled around it, one of his hands massaging the other breast, roughly kneading it. He took her nipple between his teeth, gnawing on it only to stop when she raised her hips up, the sensation of her insides massaging his length making him throw his head back again, gasping for air.

“Want me to spit in your mouth?” Spood looked at her confused as he breathed raggedly, his open mouth unsteadily inhaling and exhaling.

"Wh... what? Uunnh...." He groaned as she pushed down on him, enveloping him yet again.

“Uhhn…Some people like that…geeze. Fuck it…C’mon big boy. Show me what you got…!” Spood groaned as Fisty slowly moved on him, both of them adjusting to it. She was starting to get wet and moved with more ease as Spood was mainly focusing on not shooting his load inside her yet. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat, one of them running down the side of his face as he opened his eyes and looked up at his childhood friend who was currently having her way with him, not that Spood did mind. A breast brushed against his face, the nipple momentarily ending up between his lips, making him reach for it with his mouth and suck on it again, his tongue flicking against it. His hands moved to her toned ass and grasped it firmly, following her motions as she rode him.

"Shit Fisty," he said as he still held her nipple in his mouth. "Your hole is fucking incredible! Ungh!" He groaned as she lowered herself on him again. "It's like it's been enchanted, uuhnn, by lazer unicorns!" Fisty raised her hips again and this time Spood met her halfway as she lowered herself, a quick thrust upwards, making his sack slap against her toned and firm butt before the weight of her body forced him down against the couch again, making him reach ever so slightly further inside her.

Spood stared at the bombshell who was straddling him and moved up and down his length, focusing on her slightly parted lips that let out small moans of pleasure as she took what she wanted. His expression was strained, an almost painful look on his face as he tried to keep himself from reaching his climax, wanting to make this last as long as possible.

As he looked at her excited face he realized how fucking crazy this was. Fisty, the one constant his entire life, the one that had always been there, the one he couldn't even remember how he met was taking him, and he loved it. He had never thought about her like that, seeing her as something closer than family, something he couldn't explain. She was Kris McQuay, more commonly known as Fisty, and right now she had crossed a line which Spood hadn't even been fully aware existed, and he was grateful that she had.

"Aah, fuck," he groaned as she continued to move on top of him. His mouth caught her other nipple and suckled on it, the other one being wet with his saliva. His hands left her firm butt and he crossed his arms behind her back, pulling himself closer to her as he opened his mouth wider around her nipple, letting his entire tongue drag across her nipple and areola, pressing her soft flesh back with the tip.

"Unnh!" Fisty managed to hit the spot again and his head pressed back against the wall, his mouth open as a string of muscles reaching from his groin up to his neck tensed up while he pushed his head backwards, his chin pointing towards the roof.

Fisty straddled Spood's lap, her legs tucked up flush against his own and her sleek muscles tightened beautifully. Her arms were extended, elbows locked and hands grasping the back of the couch tightly for support. With her shirt tugged up as it was, those large, ripe breasts were all but jiggling in front of Spood's face like bait on the end of a hook. Her shapely hips were in constant motion, rolling and gyrating in that figure eight above the once unwilling man. Fisty had literally squeezed the resistance out of him, inch by tightly wrapped inch, until Spood was moaning in absolute delight. For one so loose with their morals, Fisty had a fit, toned, body that was tight all around. She took pride in herself, doing a few sessions of kegels didn't hurt either. She watched with growing delight as the look of pleasure drifted across Spood's face, that annoyance, that anger fading away rapidly as she slid down over him. She savored the look as much as the sensation of that turgid shaft stretching her apart, and stretch her he did. She hadn't really expected much from him, but now as their hips pressed flush against one another yet again, Fisty was really getting excited.

That excitement shone in the form of her honey thick arousal, which dripped down Spood's exposed length when she rocked back up. The warmth, the wetness, the intensity of the moment only began to grow with each passing moment, those slow, precise movements were growing in strength, slowly but surely. She listened to him all but growl in pleasure as he slid into her yet again, Fisty couldn't help but join in with her own feral, throaty moan. Spood's attitude quickly changed, almost surprisingly so as their hips came crashing down against one another, his head all but shot forward and he wrapped his mouth about one of her hardened nipples. Fisty couldn't help the surprised gasp that slipped past her plush lips, or the resounding groan as he started to suckle, flick his tongue over her, even bite down on her delicate flesh, all the while pawing at her lush globes like the hungry male he was.

“Uuughn...Fuck yeah...that's....it...!” Fisty began as her hips thrust down, only to find Spood's own had lifted up. They met with a resounding wet slap, once that shook that tight frame sharply. Fisty grunted lowly from the contact, her frame trembling as the pleasure shot through her, only causing her to tighten even further. She started to lose herself in the moment, losing the thought that she was rutting her best and only friend in the world. It only heightened the pleasure, being able to disconnect herself like that, at least until Spood opened his mouth and talked. It was incredible in its own right he could talk clearly with his mouth full, but he had been proficient at eating and talking for years.

“You like that...So tight, right? It's--” The throaty tease that Fisty had begun was cut off by the sudden proclamation that her lady bits were enchanted by lazer unicorns. She came to an abrupt halt, her lips parted as if she were to speak but no words came. Fisty peered down at Spood with a look of disgust and disbelief on her face.

“Was that...dirty talk? Fuck, son...you gotta work on this...Just...shut up and fuck me...” Fisty sighed and rolled her eyes, her hands slipping from the couch as she placed them on the back of Spood's head, craddling it and shoving him against her chest securly. With her breast all but shoved into his mouth, it would keep him from blurting out random, unsexy phrases. One hand stroked through his mohawk as she ground down against Spood once more, keeping her hips locked against his own as she did. She ground that shaft against her inner walls in all directions, making sure he raked against those sensitive spots that made her shudder and quiver in absolute delight. She soon forgot about the idiotic bellowings of her friend and found the pleasure once again.

“Let's...turn it up...to eleven...” Fisty grunted softly as her hips rose once more, her hand in his hair suddenly tightening as she gripped it and yanked his head back. Fisty continued to rise, drawing herself up from him till Spood actually slipped from her tight vessel. She trembled from the departure, but the feral look on her face didn't falter. She tugged Spood's head back flush against the couch, forcing him back with her considerable strength. She didn't slam it back like before, it was just to keep him in place for a moment while her amber gaze easily met his own.

“Yer mine. You hear that? Tonight you are fuckin' mine. I want you to tell me just how badly you want back inside me,” Fisty teasingly rocked down against him, sliding his head over her slit time and again. She tilted her head forward and flashed that dangerous grin once more, watching Spood trying to still recover from being pressed so fully into her. Her other hand slid out, brushing almost gingerly against his cheek before she urged his mouth open fully. It had already been hanging open slacked jawed for a few moments, so Fisty took the opportunity. She parted her own lips, letting her tongue slither forth slowly. A trickle of her saliva dribbled forth, it was obvious her intentions now as she positioned herself above Spood and possessively spat into his mouth.

“Say the fuckin' words,” She hissed, her teeth clenched shortly after as her grip on his chin tightened. There was a fierce, dangerous look in those amber orbs, one that Spood knew all too well from when Fisty got lost in the moment. It was hard to tell if she was going to continue to fuck him, or punch him square in the face. Right now they were dancing the razor's edge and it all depended on just how Spood would react.

Spood thought he had given Fisty an almost romantic compliment, but the way she looked at him when she suddenly stopped told him she didn't share his thoughts.

“Was that...dirty talk? Fuck, son...you gotta work on this...Just...shut up and fuck me...”

"I'm not the onmmphh! Mmmm..." Spood was about to protest, but Fisty showed his head into her chest, his mouth landing on one of her breasts and he almost instinctively started sucking on her nipple, dragging his tongue across it. He wanted to say that she was actually fucking him, not the other way around but right now he didn't care. Her soft and wet insides were stroking his shaft as she moved her hips on him in circles, giving him more pleasure than he had ever been able to give himself. There was also the way that she cradled his head against her breast, one hand even stroking through his hair as if to say that he was being a good boy. He didn't care why she did it, but it made him feel... safe? It was the feeling a child would have when hugging their mother, as long as they were in their arms nothing could hurt them, the stroke of their hair only adding to that sense of security. That was the feeling Spood had right now, except he wasn't hugging his mother who he could barely remember. He was wrapping his arms tightly around his best friend as she was grinding her insides against his rod and he was sucking on her nipple, his drool escaping his mouth and running down her breast onto her stomach.

“Let's...turn it up...to eleven...” Fisty raised her hips and earned a drawn-out moan from Spood as she massaged his length. That moan was abruptly cut short when her hand made a fist in his hair and roughly pulled his head back, making him let go of her back and place his hands on hers, grimacing from the pain coming from his scalp.

"OW! What the fuck!?" His head was pressed back against the couch as he glared at her, wondering why the hell she did that all of a sudden. He hadn't even noticed that he had slid out of her, his hard erection covered in her sticky juice, glistening as it trembled below her.

“Yer mine. You hear that? Tonight you are fuckin' mine. I want you to tell me just how badly you want back inside me.” Spood looked down as she teased him, his head only slightly pressing against her lips, every touch making him quiver. He hated the teasing, it made him ache, and he looked up in Fisty's eyes again as his hands still held on to her hand that was still gripping his hair. His eyes showed a mixture of anger and uncertainty as he tried to stay defiant.

"Come on, stop it. I'm not gonna say that stupid shit, let's just fuck." He stared into her eyes, ragged breaths escaping his open mouth. It was a battle of wills at this moment, and Spood could feel himself losing. His shaft was aching as she teased him, and he moved his hands to her hips, trying to force her down on him. It was to no avail, Fisty was just too strong and didn't even look affected by his efforts to pull her down. That was when she moved closer with her head, a grin plastered on her face which made Spood stop trying. He knew that grin, and it wasn't good. Carefully he moved his hands from her hips, placing them on the cushion below him as he just stared at Fisty, scared that she might squeeze the swollen orbs hanging below his manhood. She didn't, instead she placed her hand on his cheek, almost caressing it. Spood was confused, he had been certain that she was about to slap him at the very least. He wondered if she had changed her mind when she suddenly urged his mouth open, looking down on him. When he saw her saliva trickling down her tongue his eyes widened, he knew what she was about to do and he couldn't believe it. Despite that, he made no efforts to close his mouth or even move away, instead he just sat there with his mouth held open by the woman on top of him. Then she suddenly spit in his mouth, making him jolt beneath her. Despite knowing what was going to happen it still surprised him. What surprised him even more was how much it turned him on, his rigid length trembling even more, almost begging for release.

“Say the fuckin' words.” Spood just stared at her as she hissed at him, the hold on his chin tightening. He was stunned, for several reasons, but the most important one being how incredibly hard he was for her right now. She was threatening him, demanding him to submit to her as he still had her spit in his mouth, and he loved it. He swallowed hard, her spit disappearing down his throat, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'm... I'm yours. Tonight I'm yours to fuck, to do whatever the fuck you want with." There was a tremble in his voice, some of it out of nervousness but most of it from excitement. "Please... please shove my cock inside you. Please fuck me, have your fucking way with me, please FUCK ME!" Spood submitted fully to Fisty, begging her to take his length again, to take him again. He was done fighting, his mind was only on one thing and that was Fisty's sweet little slit. He trembled beneath her, a painful expression on his face as he begged her to take him in again, pleading even.

Fisty gauged Spood's reaction fully, taking him in with that somewhat psychotic look upon her beautiful face. She had tittered on the edge for a few brief moments, contemplating if she really needed to give Spood more incentive for being cooperative. Of course her form of incentive involved a hell of a lot more pain on his side, luckily enough for Spood he choose the easier route. It wasn't really a hard choice, not with Fisty wiggling her hips as suggestively as she was over him, trailing over the crown of his swollen head repeatedly. So when she finally heard those words, begging, pleading to feel himself buried within her once again, well, that just made her smile. She gave his chin a playful squeeze before offering his head a few shakes, like someone roughhousing with a dog.

“Good boy. Smart choice. And who says you make dumb decisions under pressure?” Fisty all but purred the words, her hand slipping from his chin to give his cheek a sharp slap. Her hand drew between them the tip of her index finger brushing against the tip of his nose.

“Eyes on me, Tiger. Don't close them. You watch me fuck you...tell me how tight I am...how incredible it feels...how great it is to get the privilege to fuck a magnificent specimen like me,” Fisty went on as she gave the universal gesture of 'eyes on me', pointing her index and middle finger at her own eyes and back at his. Only then did she start to settle back into it, her hands slid to Spood's shoulders and gripped him for support. With a slow, precise roll of those shapely hips Fisty pressed back down, urging him back within that incredibly tight sheath. Despite her arousal, it was still slow going, but that only allowed them to feel every inch of that veiny monster stretching her. Fisty let out a boisterous groan of delight, her mouth hanging slightly ajar as she grinned down at Spood.

“Aaahn...Yeah...That's it, baby,” She encouraged him as her hips came to press flush against his own. Fisty held the position for several long moments, simply grinding herself over him, forcing that shaft to change positions within her, rack against her inner walls and against those all too sensitive areas. She started to tense as the pleasure returned, those sleek muscles rippling and flexing as she put them to good use. For a few moments Fisty lost herself in it, setting to work in ensuring that Spood was completely drenched, in the process aiding their position and increasing the pace. Only after a few long, drawn out moments was Fisty finally bouncing in his lap, those ample breasts jostling wildly now. Their frames joined and a loud, resounding crash of wet flesh against flesh echoed through the tiny apartment. It was obvious what was transpiring within, especially since Spood had all but screamed for Fisty to fuck him. No doubt their neighbors were getting an earful; they were either going to love them or hate them!

“Uhhn...yeah...Fuck yeah...C'mon Spoody boy...Fuck me...You can cum if you want...gotta take the edge off anyway...” Fisty found her voice and let it issue forth in steamy groans in between gasps for air. She moved her hands to the back of the couch and leaned over Spood once more, though she hunched over him so that her face was mere inches from his own.

“Where do you wanna bust a nut? Inside me? My face? My titties? C'mon man...use your imagination!” Fisty's voice lowered considerably, a husky rumble in her throat. With the distance closed between them, her hips all but a flurry of motion above him, they were as close as they could possibly get. So Fisty used the moment to her advantage, her lips twitched and drifted into that lusty smile again, though as she leaned in it was not a passionate, all-consuming kiss she sought. Instead, her lips parted and her tongue flicked out over his face, giving him an affectionate if somewhat demeaning lick across his face. Shortly after she leaned back, arched her back and drew her hands out behind herself. They found purchase upon his knees, grasping at his pants for support as she lifted her lower half into the air. Fisty kept the incredible pace rather easily, after all she was a power house, but the strain was beginning to show with the shean of perspiration clinging to her marvelous figure. Her brow scrunched up as she felt the pleasure tingling through her limbs, growing within her inner core and sending her limbs a trembling.

“S-Shit...You better decide, Mutha Fuckah...Cuz I'm coming...!” Fisty spat out in between lusty moans, her face contorting further in a mixture of pleasureful strain. She tossed her head back and gave a howl of esctasy, slamming herself down against Spood with all the strength and weight her frame could offer. Fisty knew what she wanted, knew where to position Spood to obtain that and she used it to her full advantage. The girl rode him wild and bareback, without one conscious thought put into where the moment might lead and the after effect it would cause. All she wanted was that sheer pleasure that only physical contact with another person could give. Sure Fisty could have taken care of herself, but nothing felt as good as grinding another someone else, be it male or female. Spood was the lucky one for the night and though he might think it was coming to a quick and thunderous conclusion, the poor guy had no fucking clue!