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This is the third issue of Volume One: Clean And Serene.


Clint sat on the couch watching the news. Some news anchors were discussing the shootout happening on the harbor the day before.

Patrick entered the room, and Clint switched channels knowing that Patrick would freak out if we knew the police were on the case. Patrick sat down next to Clint and opened a beer bottle he brung with him.

"Hey, Clint. Anything on?" Patrick took a sip of his beer.

"Nah, just some TV-shop junk." Clint said, scanning through the channels.

"I don't think I ever thanked you. For putting your life on the line for us down there at the harbor yesterday. It really means a lot that you came with us." Patrick smiled.

"Don't worry about it. You know, I never thought I'd enjoy it. The danger. Just the feeling of adrenaline flowing through my veins. I have never felt that way before. Not even in the army. When I started firing that gun, I knew. I knew I had changed. I knew it was the real me. I never could before. Ever since I moved here, I have felt like a new person. A better person."

"Well, I'm glad you're with us, Clint. We'll make it big here, y'know? You, me, Frankie, Neil. We're a team. We'll make it." Patrick said, patting Clint's shoulder.

"Anyway, if you're free, I think Neil is gonna head off with the coke back to our dealer, I'm sure he'd like some help." Patrick suggested, as he got up from the couch.

"Yeah, I'll help him. Thanks." Clint said, as Patrick left the room.


Outside, Neil was about to head into his car, a BMW M3.

"Hey, Neil," Clint called out.

Neil turned around.

"Oh, hi, Clint. Wassup?"

"Patrick mentioned you were going somewhere, need any help?"

"Yeah, actually. You remember our dealer I told you about, Marlon? I'm gonna go deliver this coke back to him, since, well, the deal went to hell. He doesn't live far away from here, it's just up Justice Street."

"Yeah, cool, I'll join you," Clint said.

"We need any, uh... precautions?"

"Marlon is a good dude, but you never know, so yeah. I'd bring one just in case." Neil said, showing a Glock he had.

Clint took up the M9 he had holstered.

"Let's go then."


Neil and Clint arrived at Marlon's condo, and parked behind the building. Neil rang a doorbell with a little note under it saying "Marlon Wood".

The door opened, and an african-american person with a black cap looked through the crack, before opening it fully.

"Were ya followed?" he asked.

"No." Neil said.

"Aight, get yo ass inside."

Neil walked in, but Clint got stopped.

"Ay, who this muthafucka?" he asked Neil.

"He's a friend. He's to be trusted." Neil told the man.

The man looked Clint in the eyes with a sly look.

"Aight, but if ya try anythin' I'll pop ya, understood?"

"Understood." Clint replied.

"Okay, come on. Marlon be waitin'."

The man lead the two upstairs, where another man wearing a black hat and a brown jacket sat in a chair smoking a joint.

"Ayy, who dis new nigga?" he asked, high out of his mind.

"Some dude Neil be knowin'. He good." the guy in the cap said.

"Where Marlon at?" he asked the high man.

The man in the chair pointed his thumb at what looked to be the kitchen.

The three walked over to the kitchen where a man stood with his back turned. He had a light blue tank top and short black hair.

"Ay, Marlon, visitors for ya."

Marlon turned around.

"Yo, Neil, wha's good, homie?" Marlon said to Neil.

"Bad news. The deal went to shit. Polish bastards fucked us over. We got out alive thanks to this guy though." Neil said, tilting his head at Clint, who was leaning against a wall with his hands in his pockets.

"He did, huh? Nice to meet ya. I'm Marlon Wood." Marlon said, offering his hand.

Clint accepted it.

"Clint. Clint Evans. It's a pleasure."

"Damn shame these polack niggas be turnin shit on us. I thought I worked it out pretty good with their dude. Seems I was wrong."

Neil handed the cocaine to Marlon.

"Here. If you need anything, be sure to call."

"Yeah, 'bout that, take my number, Clint. I'll call ya up if I got some work. You seem like a good earner, I could use some efficient workers." Marlon said.

"Sure, why not. Could use some pay." Clint said.


Neil and Clint returned home, where they were met by the sight of Frankie's car thrashed.

"The fuck happened here?!" Neil got out of the car, and ran inside.

Frankie and Patrick came running behind Neil, and stopped when they saw the wreck.

"Aw, fuck no!" Frankie yelled in rage.

"How the fuck did you not notice?!" Neil asked in confusion.

"Not surprising, considering the loud ass music you play all the time." Clint said.

"Fuck, man... this was the polacks." Neil said from the other side of the car.

"What, how'd you know?"

"Here," Neil pointed at a message written on the left hand side of the car door.

"They always leave a message in polish after marking their territory."

"Shit, man, I knew Szymon was gonna fuck us over! Fuck! He's gonna start doing shit. He starts small, then in the end, he'll end up killing us!" Frankie panicked.

"Calm down, Frankie. We'll manage, alright? We can get Marlon and his boys to help us if we need it." Neil suggested.

Frankie sighed.

"I'm gonna go rest. See you tomorrow." He said, walking inside again.

"I'm worried about Frankie. He's always so paranoid about the polish..." Patrick said, looking back at the house.

"Is he right though? What if they are planning some shit to do to us?"

"Only time will tell. For now, we should take it easy and not let that stop us." Clint said.

"You're right. Let's just get inside and get some sleep, and see what happens tomorrow. If they make more signs, we'll start preparing." Neil said, as the trio made their way inside.

CreditsEdit

DeathsEdit

  • None

TriviaEdit

Previous Issue: Issue 2 Next Issue: Issue 4


Blood Brothers Issues [edit]
Volume One: Clean And Serene Issue 1 Issue 2 Issue 3 Issue 4 Issue 5 Issue 6

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