The sky outside glistened with stars shining in the night, a nice cool breeze blew throughout the shining city of Vegas. Earlier in the day Ronnie was sat in the Petrol Heads garage, this day would’ve been like any others. Ronnie planned to have his car worked on by some associates, then to the bar to find some company. But Clarkson had other plans for him. 

Clarkson approached Ronnie with a grin slapped across his enormously large head. “Ronnie. Ronnie. Ronnie. Remember that thing? That little dumb bet of yours? Time to pay.” He said. Looking all smug, Clarkson was referring to the night he and Ronnie contended to take a woman home. She left with @Clarkson. But the guy just couldn’t get it up. BUT. Ronnie did lose. Now he had some...cleaning to do. Clarkson pressed a folder into Ronnie’s chest and slid a handgun between his legs. “I want you to use this. No it’s not full of blanks. I’m not that much of a cunt.” He said before walking away puffing his chest out. 

Ronnie flipped through the folder, target was a guy called Frank. Mid 30s, Lived alone. Perfect Ronnie thought. The reason... “what the fuck Clarkson.” Ronnie said under his breath. The target. Frank. Sold Clarkson a shitty gun. “Hah, I bet it’s the one @Drake runs around with.” Ronnie says chuckling to himself. 

That was earlier though. This is now. Ronnie was now sitting in a pitch black room, a cigarette in his left hand, the gun Clarkson gave him in his right. The door handle rattles and Ronnie puts the cigarettes cherry into the ashtray, sliding the rest back into his pocket, he quietly gets up, and gets up against the wall, pointing the gun straight head level to the doorframe. 

A shadow walks into the room Ronnie is in, the lights flicker on and the face from the folder takes form over the shadow. Ronnie pulls the trigger CLICK He presses it again CLICK “You fucking prick.” Ronnie says as he slams the butt of the gun into Franks face, his nose erupts, unlike that prick Clarkson. “Fucking cunt gave me the shitty gun. Should’ve fucking known.” Ronnie says as frank grumbles on the floor, Ronnie looks down to the man and gives him a kick to his face, hard enough to disorientate the man, he then storms through the house “fucking bastard is probably sat in his office laughing at all the struggles he knows I’m going through. I’ll get him back too, oh you bet I will. I’ll switch his fucking viagra with laxative the bastard. Gotta give it to him tho, I should’ve fucking expected it.” Ronnie says as he walks to the kitchen and grabs a chefs knife. 

“Oh frankly boy. I haven’t forgotten about you, it’s because of your shitty gun I’m going to have to stab you now.” He says, as he stands over frank, plunging the knife into his chest, then again Into his chest again, before kicking him over to his stomach. Frank starts pleading and begging, but Ronnie is pissed. He don’t care for his plea for mercy. Ronnie places his knee onto franks back and grabs him by the hair, pulling his head up Ronnie grins. “Just think about it like this. If your fucking gun would’ve worked. You’d have died faster.” He says to frank before sliding the blade across franks throat, the blood pours as Ronnie throws the now lifeless man’s Face into the floor. Before leaving like he was never there.