Burstache Club

KEith Renegade. The name that belonged to the man I hated the most. HE had killed someone extremely close to me. Someone who I bore my soul to and maybe even loved. I will never see them again because of KEith. The once happy memories have haunt me in my sleep as nightmares that I write in a journal that sits on my desk. A knock sounds on my door and I don't even care to check since I know who it is. "Marcus." "Ziggler. I would say you look well, but I don't lie." A quick glance in the miror proved that he was right. My hair was a mess and my clothes looked like they came from the bottom of the dump. They came from the bottom of my hamper. "Apperances don't matter until I seal the deal." HE let out a sigh, but sat at the desk and pulled out a single sheet of paper from his bag. "Here it is, fresh of the printer. TAke a look." I scanned the page and stopped when I read a certain line. "MArcus. What the actual fuck is this?" "That's no way for a lady to speak." he said. I repeated myself. "What bullshit is this! Read this and tell me to my face that this is what I asked for." HE took the paper from my hands and read it out loud. "When the desired goal has been completed, the owner of this contract will recieve a pay of three million pentz and membership with the Berstache Club.