The Streets of Boston - Chapter 19: Welcome to the Jungle

  • December 10, 2287

    It is strange how much a man can miss something as stupid and ridiculous as the vain display of christmas lights that used to adorn these streets of mine back in the day. However, as I stared out of my office through the sadly missing wall, their absence hit me as yet another relic of the past I would never see again. Even as a kid I never believed in the old well doer that functioned as the poster boy for this corrupted feast. You can’t trust people who give without receiving anything in return. Not to mention that my name never had too much of a lifespan on the “nice” list.

    Christmas… One big ad for the Nuka cola company, and a set of rules that brainwashed children into happy little, and most importantly of all submissive, consumers. I may have never believed in christmas magic, but I will applaud the bastards who came up with it for their ingenuity. I could count myself lucky if I ever came up with such a scheme. What was it the romans said again?

    Bread and games.

    More than two thousand years ago, those motherfuckers had already figured the whole thing out. Of course, then they had to mock it up by involving religion and things like heaven and hell. People don’t care for the afterlife, they only care for bread and games. Our standards on what bread we will eat and what games we will play or watch makes us who we are. It probably won’t come as a surprise if I tell you my standards are phenomenally high.

    I looked down the street from my perch, silently observing my small army of artificially selected raiders. Only the smartest and more careful raiders had passed the test. Among those, only the ones that had sworn loyalty to me had survived my return. My new pets will remember that day for a while. I smiled.

    Down in the streets my crew was working on dismantling or retrieving anything of use. My offices needed renovating; and now that we didn’t have to keep up the old front; that leaves a fantastic amount of extra space for more interesting things. I have Rook setting up a trade post on the first floor. The rest of the raiders don’t really understand why, but from what I gather Rook has learned how important a good flow of goods can be for moral during his time in the brewery north-west of town. He will ensure no one gets out of line as long as I promise him he’ll be getting a cut from the trade. As soon as that shop get set up I’ll make sure to send my people to secure and lock down most major routes into diamond city. If they want to trade with the green jewel they’ll have to trade with us, or pay the exorbitant toll fees. Empires usually start small, I think I’ll skip a few steps.

    Once we’ve drained Diamond city trade down to a trickle I’ll start to clear out the rest of town. From the reports I gathered there are quite a lot of those green giants I met outside Diamond city last month. Strangely enough, if my men are to be believed there’s less and less of them as time goes on. Apparently there’s a group of heavily armed soldiers rounding them up, shoving them onto boats and transporting them north. I don’t know why they do it or where they take them, but I don’t really need to know that now do I? All I need to know is that here’s a demand for living mutants, and I just need to take hold of the supply.

    Before I’ll know it, I’ll be in charge of a very wealthy little trade empire, I can’t wait.

    I stood up and walked across the room to my beautiful new prize: a working holoplayer. It’s a bit beaten up and doesn’t sound as good as the player in my pip boy, but seeing it means I won’t have to carry that cumbersome thing around all the time, it’s most certainly worth it. As my finger slid across the backs of the holotapes that had been carefully stored on a shelf above the holoplayer, my thoughts wandered back to the previous week. More importantly, to her.

    Even before the war I don’t think I ever came across a woman like that. Late Mrs Lafoy, was a sweet woman, a beautiful woman at that, but she wasn’t… like her. To be entirely honest, apart from Good old Eddy, I never met someone who wasn’t afraid of what I was, what I represented. It’s strangely refreshing.

    I ended up with a tape my men recently brought back from their scavenging trips; Take the A train by Duke Ellington. I put it in and pressed the play button. It didn’t take long for me to start swinging around my office, a glass of wine in one hand, a cigar in the other. I was back to living the good life.

    My joy was shortly interrupted however when someone knocked on my door. Just who I was expecting.

    “Sir, Bishop here. I’ve got what you wanted.”

    “Fantastic, come in.” I quickly made my way to the holoplayer and paused the music. As much as it simulates my reflexion, it’s a real bother during conversations.

    Bishop was probably the most promising of my new recruits. He was the smartest of the raiders I had recruited and had managed to turn his small crew into a true powerhouse thanks to his wit instead of his ruthlessness. He and his crew used to hang out in a run down hardware store just east of Diamond city. They had a nice little setup where they lured targets into their base; giving them the upper hand over anybody but me. The bodies of their victims outnumbered his crew five to one. A very efficient mind. He also happened to be among the first to accept my offer, hell he even managed to recruit some more people before he got to the office.

    The door opened and he walked in. I offered him to take a seat, and so he did. Bishop didn’t use to be his name. He, and some of the others, had decided to take up new names with the new job; they all took different chess pieces. The only piece to be off limits being the King out of respect for me. I couldn’t care less if they decided to take it though. In the game of chess, I’m not the king, I’m the player.

    “So, am I to assume you found the blueprints I asked you to retrieve?” I asked after taking up a seat behind my desk myself.

    “Yes sir, better yet. We found the prints for some other vaults as well. Apparently there’s a few more than I originally thought.” He reached for a piece of an old drainage pipe with two leather lids, one on each side, and opened it; pulling out the blueprints he mentioned. “We also found maps for several portions of the old Boston underground, which I thought could come in handy.”

    “Good thinking, Bishop. I appreciate that. Now tell me more about these other vaults, I would imagine those might come in handy.” I said as Bishop laid down the blueprints on my desk.

    “Well, besides the Vault under the commons, where Skinny Malone and his crew are hiding out, there’s the vault I told you about; the one east of the city. My crew and I used to trade our goods there. Apparently there’s a few more: one in the south, near the glowing sea, which if the files we found are correct was pumped full of chems.” Bishop smiled, “I don’t have to explain to you what kind of goldmine that could end up being.”

    “Certainly not,” I smiled in return. I had made sure to not recruit any addicts, it’s a simple rule of our business to not sample the goods for yourself. Addicts can’t be trusted to follow that rule. However, that didn’t mean that we wouldn’t be hoarding all the chems we could find as if we were addicted.

    A stache like the one Bishop described would offset the demand and supply ratio. However if we were to wrestle control of the already existing supply we could start a monopoly. There’s nothing more profitable than a monopoly on goods your clients can’t live without.

    “Then there’s a two vaults north of town, one of them is quite small and apparently needed cryogenic stuff, I’m not sure what that means, but I thought you might.” I nodded, “The other was apparently reserved to children, not sure why Vault-tec would do something like that, but from my limited experience with vaults I guess I don’t want to know.”

    “A fair assumption.” I replied, “Not sure yet how these two could end up being useful to us, but in time we might as well send some guys over to check them out.” I looked at the blueprint Bishop had put on my desk: it described a section of the metro system near the Vault where I would find Nicky Valentine. I still wonder how that guy survived the end of the world. It didn’t take long for me to notice an important detail.


    “Did you see this?” I asked as I pointed out the point of interest on the blueprint.

    “I didn’t have the time to take a proper look when we snatched them out of that building, but that looks like there’s a service entrance a few streets from the commons.” An arrogant smile appeared on his face, “I doubt they’ll be guarding that. It looks like it’s just a manhole.”


    December 12, 2287

    Monday morning in the boston commons, it’s strangely refreshing to get back to work. I have murdered a reporter, destroyed all evidence of the latter, gathered a crew, exacted revenge on the idiots who raided my tailor, and now me and my crew are preparing to raid a different gang. It’s almost like I’m back in time when I first took up my father’s flimsy organisation.

    I had managed to gather about twenty men, I had personally recruited the stronger ones among them, and the rest either flocked in as the news spread or were recruited by the others. I made sure to outfit them with some decent weapons, none of those disgusting pipe guns the raiders were used to, and of course replaced their wardrobe. My new crew does not consist of savages, and that needs to be clear at a glance. Dress to impress, as my old man used to say.

    “Mr. Rook, you made sure everyone has enough ammunition?” I asked. Rook was one of the Lafoy Cavaliers, as they had started calling themselves. The four members of my crew who had started taking up the names of the different chess pieces. I’ll admit I quite like the concept.

    “I did sir, I gave everyone multiple magazines, and checked them for grenades. It didn’t seem like a good idea to start tossing explosives around closed quarters like that.” Rook was a deceivingly huge man, deceivingly so because he wasn’t just tall; he was smart. A combination of traits that sadly don’t come together as often as they should.

    “Well done, Mr. Rook.” I replied as I turned towards my troops. Our objective for that day stood behind me; the Boston Commons metro station, and the Vault hidden within.

    “Well we’re finally here guys, and ladies of course, “ I nodded at Queen, “I’ve already discussed the plan with the Cavaliers, who should have taken you through it already, however I want to make sure you all understand that we’re not here to destroy Skinny’s crew. So I would prefer it if you wouldn’t kill them on sight,” I ordered, “and to those who are still having ideas and plan on killing without my consent; when I’ll catch you, I’ll string you up from the ceiling of my offices, carefully cut your limbs and appendages off one by one as to not directly kill your sorry ass, and feed them to the lurks.”

    Silence ensued. Good. “Do you understand?!” I roared.

    “Yes sir” was my answer.

    “Bishop and Knight will be taking the back entrance with their men. Whereas the others will follow me through their front door. Now let’s roll out.”

    Rook and Queen followed me as I walked towards the doors. Queen was among the people that just showed up on my doorstep, apparently she was an assassin for some other gang; went by Kendra I think, regardless she was a killer and a ruthless one at that. I halted them before I opened the station, though. We were going to do this with style; I conjured a small holotape from the hidden pocket of my suit and slid it into my pipboy. Then I lit myself a cigar and pushed open the doors as the sound of one of my favourites; Edith Piaf’s Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien announced our presence to whatever fools were hidden inside.

    Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien

    Ni le bien qu’on m'a fait, ni le mal

    Tout ca m'est bien egal

    Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien

    C'est payé, balayé, oublié, je me fous du passé

    We heard alarmed voices scream orders down stairs, the music had done what it needed to do: sow confusion. Merci Edith.

    We arrived in the main hall. Unlike the city, the metro station didn’t show much evidence of a nuclear war, instead it echoed with a distinct feeling of abandonment. Rubble was scattered everywhere and the construction materials for the vault were scattered around as if the people working on it simply evaporated, it reminded me of Franky’s. This place may look different, but in essence the two now served the same purpose. Whether Malone knew it or not; this was a grave.

    We were greeted by about five men, all wearing suits and armed with submachine guns. So these were the Triggermen I was constantly compared to? What an utter disappointment.

    Avec mes souvenirs j’ai allumé le feu

    Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs,

    Je n’ai plus besoin d`eux

    Balayés les amours avec leurs trémolos

    Balayés pour toujours

    Je repars a zero

    “Kill them.”

    Shots were fired and mixed in with the harmonious tune of Edith Piaf’s legacy. It was sad that I had to interrupt such a masterpiece like this. But sometimes you have to sacrifice a perfectly clean suit to send a clear message, and as much as the crimson clashed with the colours of my suit, blood was a message everyone understood. Especially when it wasn’t yours.

    Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien

    Ni le bien qu’on m’a fait, ni le mal

    Tout ça m’est bien égal

    Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien

    Car ma vie, car me joies

    Aujourd`hui ca commence avec toi

    The end of the song came as abruptly to me as their death must have come to the idiots lying on the floor. So far, we didn’t lose anybody. Apparently the incompetent assholes that had been holed up here weren’t even capable of fighting of a small force when warned. I’ve got to wonder how they would have fared if I were to surprise them. However, now that the song had stopped playing it no longer devoured the sound of people running up stairs that came from down the hall that led to the platforms.

    “Get into cover!” My sense of self preservation took over, this sounded a whole lot like a larger force. I pushed my back against one of the columns that lined the entrance. I had a quick look at my pipboy and wondered if I should press play again. The song was over and it had delivered as expected. There was no need to play it again, but hell did I wish there was. My thoughts were interrupted as the triggermen reached the ticket booth.

    “Come out and play everyone! If you fucking raiders leave now, we might just not kill you!” A strangely familiar voice erupted from their direction, it was a bit rougher than I remembered. However, the voice alone wouldn’t have surprised me if it weren’t for the accompanying smell. A disgusting blend of petrol and fertiliser, but there was something else, something I wasn’t sure where to place it. There was a distinct smell of death mixed in with it.

    I laughed and immediately heard a gasp filled with an expression similar to my own.

    “Boss?” I heard him mumble in utter perplexity. “Mr. Lafoy?”

    On my left, from the cover of a different column. I saw Queen stare at me, asking me why the hell we were waiting. More importantly; why the other guy called me boss. I guess it’s time I sort this out.

    “Well, well, guess who made it through the end of the world!” I declared as I came out of my cover. “I didn’t think you had it in … Holy shit Grady what happened to your face?!”

    “Nice to see you too Boss.” He looked at me intrigued. “So, are you a synth or are you telling me you’re the best preserved ghoul around?”

    “Grady, what the hell is a ghoul?” I asked recovering from my earlier surprise, my submachine gun still sternly focused on his disgusting head.

    “I’m a ghoul Boss, and so are these two,” He pointed at two more ugly bastards in his little posse, “And I believe so is Eddy Winter.” He paused and let that one sink in.

    Now that he mentioned it, the old picture I kept as a trophy in my vault for the first few years, before burning it because I could, came back to my mind. Taking my thoughts by storm. I remembered the disfigured face and his skin as crisp as a holiday roast. He looked nearly identical to the ghost I had in front of me.


    “Well, so that old fuck did manage to survive the apocalypse then. Let me guess he stored himself away in some rotten bunker under the city, it’s what I’ve done.”

    “Boss, could you please lower the gun? Let’s make sure nobody gets hurt.” Grady joked, his eyes betraying a certain fear. Clearly Malone had been giving him too much responsibilities. He had grown careless; stupid. He never even noticed the revolver pointed at the back of his head. At least not until it was too late.

    I nodded. A moment later I was kneeling over his lifeless corpse.

    “You should have surrendered as soon as you saw me, old friend.”

    Grady had always been a tool, and now he was a tool that had served all of its purpose. Back in the day he made for a worthy second but the odds had definitively favored Bishop this time around. Regardless, in the end Grady made a great message to anyone stupid enough to cross my path; It doesn’t matter if you’re my friend or not, if you get in my way you’re going down just like the rest.


    “Mr Lafoy, they’re all restrained and waiting for your offer.” Bishop declared as he wiped the blackened blood from his gun.

    “I see our plan was a success then. Fantastic.” Grady’s posse was being held in restraints and I assumed that the rest of Malone’s forces that weren’t hiding inside his vaults like the rats they were, were similarly tied up.

    I looked at Queen and ordered her to round up the prisoners with Knight while Rook, Bishop and I would look into opening the vault. No one knew who Knight was, apparently he had just appeared out of nowhere. Some said he had climbed out of a mass grave and others said he used to go by Gabriel and lead a small time gang up north until they got ripped apart by the remnants of some well doing militia. I stopped and stared at the door, that pipboy of mine was finally starting to get some non musical use, if only I hadn’t fed 111 to the crabs, I could go honor his grave as a thanks for the sacrifice. Although that would have meant I would have withheld food from my lovely pets, and that would be even more of a shame.

    Most of my men had survived the assault so far, mostly thanks to Bishop and Knight using the back door and capturing all the guards on the platforms. It was time I put them to good use. If I was right, the vault was soundproof so they shouldn’t be aware of what just happened outside.

    In that case, let’s try to do this without dirtying up my suit any further. I approached the console near the heavy door and plugged in my pipboy. The option to force the doors open appeared and as tempting as it was, why not give Malone, or his crew a chance to join me? I scrolled down and found the option to access the Vault’s intercom to broadcast my ultimatum. Sometimes the element of surprise had to be left aside for the effect of some clear cut intimidation. I selected the appropriate option and cleared my throat.

    “Good morning, I sure hope you all slept well. I am Simon Lafoy and I just took the metro station by storm. Trust me, if you didn’t have a good night's sleep, you’ll regret that soon enough.” I laughed. Confidence is key, not that I lack any. “Before you all jump up and grab your weapons to sally out and defend your little hole. I would like to announce you that I successfully locked the main and only door.” I bluffed. “Good luck rationing supplies in there!”

    I ended my transmission. Now all there was to do was to wait, and why not ensure I actually locked the door just in case some of the rats inside actually possessed half a brain.

    Not much longer than an hour later, the radio at the console turned on and a cracking voice was broadcasted from the other end of the door.

    “Simon Lafoy, we would love to discuss terms.”

    Fantastic. I smiled and opened the communications.

    “Terms? You want to discuss terms?” My laugh echoed through the abandoned tunnels. What the hell were these guys thinking?

    “Well, here are mine: I want full surrender from you idiots; I want you to serve me your boss’ head on a platter. I can’t think of any use I could have for him. However if any of you want to turn coats and start working for me, I would love to welcome you into the fold.” I stepped away from the console and let the choice sink in. See if any of them want to take the opportunity; if they don’t they’ll die. If they do, they might not.

    This time the moment of silence was shorter, far shorter, as mere moments after I finished my sentence a reply came.

    “We’re listening.”

    “Great, I’ve also come to know that you are holding a private detective known as Nick Valentine. I want him. Serve me both the P.I and your boss’ head and you’ll walk freely.” Albeit not for long. “I’ll give you half an hour to set everything up.”


    The last transmission would be their final one. Half an hour later I opened up the door and looked at the scene in amazement. Hanging from the ceiling, just over the walkway, were two corpses: one well dressed, yet surprisingly large “Skinny” Malone and what I guess to be a woman. It was difficult to identify her exact features seeing her face had been crushed with a blunt object. Probably someone who didn’t agree with the change in command. There will always be dumb idiots. Heroes they call themselves.

    A man in a well pressed suit was awaiting me and my men. He seemed to be alone. Not that he was fooling anyone.

    “If this is a surrender in your book, I would like to suggest you smack your head on a dictionary for a while. Now let’s make this easy for all of you and have those assholes hidden behind those columns and shelves come out. We’re not going to shoot you and clearly you’ve already agreed to our terms.” Knight declared pointing at the corpses above us. A very perceptive man.

    “Well. Now that is out of the way, let’s discuss your recruitment shall we?” I asked the man in the center of the room. “Where’s Nicky?”

    The man smiled; “ He’s still in his cell, we prefer to keep the bastard under lock and key. He’s crafty.”

    “Living for that long will do that to you, either that or turn you mad.” I laughed. Was that a hint of worry I picked up from Knight’s face there? No matter.

    The triggermen guided me through what seemed like endless stairs and a precariously set up living space. Of all people they thought they could house here, Vault-tec had to think I would want to get into this Vault? Oh man how they were wrong, the longer I spent in here, the more I was convinced burning that invitation was a great idea.

    When we finally reached what Vault-tec used to call an Atrium, we climbed a few last stairs until we reached the door to what seemed to be the Overseer’s office. As much as I hated these Vaults, my wife used to be more than happy to take me on Vault-tec’s vault tours in my free time. She was convinced hiding in a hole like a rat for the rest of her life would save humanity.

    Regardless, impatient I stared through the large porthole-like window into the dark and unlit room, facing only a nearly skeletal silhouette. Whatever happened to good ol’Nicky seemed worse than Grady’s predicament, and that’s saying something.

    “How are you doing in there Valentine?” the triggerman asked jokingly as he started tinkering with the door terminal. “You been hungry? Want a snack?”

    “Keep talking meathead, it will give Skinny Malone more time to think about how he’s gonna bump you off!” That voice was unmistakable, Nicky was in there alright.

    “Don’t give me that crap Valentine, you know nothing, you got nothing… Besides Skinny ain’t in charge anymore.”

    “Really? And who do you think is Dino, You?”

    “Not really, but you’ll know soon enough. The new boss wants to see you. Apparently you two know each other.”

    “Know each other? What the hell are you going on about muscles for brains?” Nick replied.

    The triggerman finally entered the right password into the entry terminal and the door shot open.

    “Nicky, Nicky, Nicky, it’s been a long time hasn’t it?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief as I walked into the door.


    “And who the hell are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you hanging with Malone’s crew before, you’re a new guy or something?”

    Nicky stepped into the light and revealed himself to be something… Something else. His torn skin was grey and clearly artificial, his eyes mechanic and the right hand he was using to light himself a cigarette as he spoke was nothing but a collection of bolts and metallic pincers. I didn’t really expect him to be a robot, although after two hundred years, should I be surprised?

    “You’re not Nick.” I declared, seeing the surprise in his eyes as he looked me in the eyes. “As far as I’m aware Valentine is a being of flesh and blood, not some elaborate toaster.” I turned to the triggerman, “What the hell do you think you’re playing at? I wanted to see the P.I, not your household protectron!”

    “Well, I certainly expected more from my knight in shiny armour, I’m guessing you never saw a synth?” Nick’s copy asked, his voice dripping with the sarcasm I knew from him. “I know the skin and metal parts ain’t comforting, but it’s not important right now.” Nick blew out some smoke from his cigaret, “The important question is why you would want to see me, an old private eye?”

    “Me and the real Nick, we used to have an understanding. Gods know why, but I was somewhat expecting to find him here.” I grinned. “However, as I’m clearly mistaken, I doubt you’ve got any more use for me.”

    “The real Nick?” The synth replied, I could practically see the gears grinding in his head. “Wait, Simon? Simon Lafoy?”

    “The one and only.” I smiled as I saw the fear flash in his electronic eyes. Apparently there was more to this bucket of bolts than I thought. I turned to Knight and his men, the ones that followed me into the bowels of this rat’s den. “Knight, string the detective up, he’s coming with us.”

    December 13, 2287

    Just a little over a month. That’s all I needed to set up a new organisation. Just over a month ago I crept out of my vault, disheveled and broken. A man that despite his immortality had come dangerously close to his grave, in a way he had lived in it for over two hundred years. Slowly abandoning all semblance of sanity. Now, I was back on top of my game. Over the years many had tried to appear immortal, crime bosses that passed on their name as a title. Be the next Capone, or the next Lafoy. But never had they actually been immortal. Not like me.

    I spent all day downstairs overseeing the renovation of my old building and occasionally feeding the triggermen that refused to consider my offer to the lurks, or those stupid enough to go into my office without permission. As such I was quite honestly surprised when I opened the door to my office only to come across a small package, gift wrapped and all, sitting on my desk.

    I closed the door behind me and approached my desk. There was a note on the package, it was nothing more than a simple sheet of paper folded in two. On the outside someone had written my name in elegant letters, after I unfolded it a short message appeared: “Welcome to the Jungle” along side it I found the dark red imprint of a kiss.

    I undid the wrapping and opened the box, only to find a battered holotape and my trusty revolver. Arsène had kept it after our little encounter, apparently she held onto it for a while. Why she had suddenly decided to give it back to me was a bit of a mystery. However, that didn’t mean I wasn’t happy to see my old friend. I aimed at the ruined portrait on my wall and shot my revolver a few times. She had even returned it in working order.

    I turned back to the package and left my revolver on the desk. Except for the clear signs of aging there were no markings on the holotape, all indication of its content had been scraped off. Curious, I decided to put it into the holoplayer. Before I could press the play button however, a worried Bishop stepped into the room. He had heard the gunshots and had come running.

    “I’m sorry for the shots Bishop, I just felt like testing out a gift.” I explained. Satisfied Bishop put down his weapon and relaxed.

    “I’m sorry Sir, I still get a bit jumpy when I hear gunshots inside like that.”

    “No problem Bishop, speaking of the gift I mentioned, could you bring in the detective? I’ve got something I need to show him.”

    “Certainly sir.” He replied and disappeared just as fast as he had come. Meanwhile I pressed play.



    Welcome to the jungle

    We've got fun 'n' games

    We got everything you want

    Honey, we know the names

    We are the people that can find

    Whatever you may need

    If you got the money, honey,

    We got your disease

    I’ll admit to like the melody, even if the song didn’t sound familiar to me. I walked over to the small cabinet pushed against the wall where I once entered my vault and took out a salvaged bottle of red.

    In the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    Watch it bring you to your


    I then filled one of the wine glasses standing on the aforementioned cabinet and turned back to my desk. Thank you Arsène.

    Welcome to the jungle

    We take it day by day

    If you want it you're gonna bleed

    But it's the price you pay

    And you're a very sexy girl

    That's very hard to please

    You can taste the bright lights

    But you won't get them for free

    Bishop came in, followed by two of my men dragging Nicky by both his arms. I took out a chair from the desk and signaled they sit him down.

    In the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    I wanna watch you bleed

    “Hey Nick, I just wanted to say there’s nothing personal about this, whatever memories you may have left in that scrapheap of a head, I can’t afford for them to get out. I’m sorry.”

    Welcome to the jungle

    It gets worse here everyday

    Ya learn ta live like an animal

    In the jungle where we play

    If you got a hunger for what you see

    You'll take it eventually

    You can have anything you want

    But you better not take it from me

    “Nick should have made sure to kill you ages ago, there’s no place for a relic like you in this place. Trust me.” The synth replied unwavering.

    In the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    I wanna hear you scream

    Welcome to the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    I wanna watch you bleed

    “Then I’ll make place.” I grabbed my revolver from my desk and pointed it between his eyes. Would it kill a synth? I didn’t know, but who am I to betray that instinct.

    And when you're high you never

    Ever want to come down,

    And when you're high you never

    Ever want to come down, down, down, down, down yeah!

    “Oh and before I forget, please tell your little reporter friend I said hi!”

    Welcome to the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    I wanna watch you scream

    Welcome to the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    I wanna watch you be

    Welcome to the jungle

    Welcome to the jungle

    I wanna watch you lead

    The End?



4 Comments   |   Mottyskills and 2 others like this.
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 18, 2017
    • The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
        ·  January 18, 2017
      It is all I can say,  YES, YES, YES!  (6)
  • Mottyskills
    Mottyskills   ·  December 27, 2016
    Some good old GnR to finish it out eh? Now...back to the beginning to give this a good read :) Congrats on the arc finale. 
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  December 27, 2016
    Nick? NICK! :D