12-28-2020, 09:40 PM
That shiny black Escalade was hurtling through the soon to be sweltering landscape.
Sanchez locks his eyes on the rearview, staring at his prisoner. Alex, bound and gagged, sits
looking out the window; paying him no mind.
Delia glances across the rearview mirror, catching man four's eyes. He's staring, she looks away.
Man two takes a drink from his water bottle and driver gazes ahead blankly. Tensions were stretched
thin; they were all feeling it. The large black SUV left a plume of brown dust in its wake.
Sanchez steps from his vehicle and his men pull Alex from the backseat. They escort him to the
elaborate back grounds. Delia's father is brought out and he and Alex are both tied to wooden
poles. The show was about to start.
His men march out eight members of a rival cartel. Their hands bound behind them with black hoods
over their heads. Each are pushed down onto their knees, hoods removed. They'd all been beaten.
Alex and Ernie looking on; distressed. They know this ends badly.
Delia's eyes burn a hole through that windshield while the two men in the back check their bags for
weapon inventory. They continue to bear down on that long, empty highway.
A firing squad assembles and they taunt the gang members before issuing them all gut-shots. Anyone
fortunate enough to survive it won the prize of dismemberment; which Sanchez would record. Their various
body parts would be delivered to family members as well as their boss - along with complimentary DVD's
of the whole event. Sanchez fancied himself a generous man.
Alex and Ernie winced, turning away as the first man was set upon the chopping block. Sanchez, in all his
disgusting warpedness, would always have festive mariachi music blasting over loud speakers while arms
and legs were removed from torsos. His depravity was truly sickening.
Driver pulls slowly off the road as the GPS dings. They had arrived.
Sanchez locks his eyes on the rearview, staring at his prisoner. Alex, bound and gagged, sits
looking out the window; paying him no mind.
Delia glances across the rearview mirror, catching man four's eyes. He's staring, she looks away.
Man two takes a drink from his water bottle and driver gazes ahead blankly. Tensions were stretched
thin; they were all feeling it. The large black SUV left a plume of brown dust in its wake.
Sanchez steps from his vehicle and his men pull Alex from the backseat. They escort him to the
elaborate back grounds. Delia's father is brought out and he and Alex are both tied to wooden
poles. The show was about to start.
His men march out eight members of a rival cartel. Their hands bound behind them with black hoods
over their heads. Each are pushed down onto their knees, hoods removed. They'd all been beaten.
Alex and Ernie looking on; distressed. They know this ends badly.
Delia's eyes burn a hole through that windshield while the two men in the back check their bags for
weapon inventory. They continue to bear down on that long, empty highway.
A firing squad assembles and they taunt the gang members before issuing them all gut-shots. Anyone
fortunate enough to survive it won the prize of dismemberment; which Sanchez would record. Their various
body parts would be delivered to family members as well as their boss - along with complimentary DVD's
of the whole event. Sanchez fancied himself a generous man.
Alex and Ernie winced, turning away as the first man was set upon the chopping block. Sanchez, in all his
disgusting warpedness, would always have festive mariachi music blasting over loud speakers while arms
and legs were removed from torsos. His depravity was truly sickening.
Driver pulls slowly off the road as the GPS dings. They had arrived.
