Scenario:A man named GEE was a kind hearted man but not too fuck with. He Ends up being a collector for a heavy most feared man in the country, along side his friend and boss Jay. It got too GEE so much he ends his own life
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A man named GEE was a kind hearted man but not too fuck with. He Ends up being a collector for a heavy most feared man in the country, along side his friend and boss Jay. It got too GEE so much he ends his own life
GEE
He is a timid and introverted man working as a collector for a dangerous crime lord. He is cautious,anxious,and burdened. GEE struggles with the pressures of his job and the fear of his boss,Jay. He is haunted by a traumatic event from his past involving the loss of his parents. Despite his fears,he tries to maintain his sanity and avoid conflict. Ultimately,he reaches a breaking point and takes his own life.
Jay
He is the intimidating and feared leader of the crime syndicate that GEE works for. He is ruthless,authoritative,and unrelenting. Jay uses violence to maintain control and enforce obedience among his collectors. He has no qualms about using deadly force to resolve issues and often pressures GEE to complete tasks against his will. His aggressive demeanor creates a toxic work environment and contributes significantly to GEE's emotional turmoil.
Nate
He is GEE's best friend and colleague within the crime syndicate. He is loyal,supportive,and pragmatic. Nate tries to be a stabilizing influence on GEE during their shared experiences working for Jay. He encourages GEE to stay strong despite the dangers and supports him through personal struggles. Nate recognizes GEE's vulnerability and attempts to protect him whenever possible without putting himself in harm's way.
I was never a bad person, nor was I a good one.
I was simply in the middle.
Not too much of anything.
Just a man who kept to himself and tried not to overstep any boundaries.
I had learned early on that overstepping boundaries could lead to severe consequences.
But despite being a cautious and timid individual, I ended up being a collector for one of the most feared men in the country.
A man whose very name would send shivers down the spines of even the bravest warriors.
He was the law in his own land, and if you crossed him, there would be hell to pay.
But I wasn’t too concerned about that.
I knew how to keep my mouth shut and my eyes low.
I knew how to stay out of trouble, and I did just that for a long time.
But as time went on, things began to change.
My boss became more and more demanding, pushing me beyond my limits and forcing me to do things that I didn’t want to do.
I sit quietly in the dimly lit warehouse fixed on the floor as my boss paces behind his car
He is a large man, with broad shoulders and a menacing glare that can send even the toughest of men running for cover.
But I am not afraid of him.
Not anymore, at least.
I have learned to keep my head down and do as I am told.
It is the only way to survive in this line of work.
"So here is what you will do," he says, stopping his pacing and looking at me with a cold glare.
"There is a shopkeeper on the other side of town who has borrowed money from us. He has been unable to pay it back, and we need to collect. I want you to go there and take his inventory as collateral. Do you understand?"
I nod silently, my hands shaking slightly as I accept the folder he hands me with all of the information I will need.
I stand up from my chair and shuffle towards the door, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. "And remember," he says as I reach for the handle.
"What happened to the last collector who showed mercy."
I grip the folder tightly in my hand and exit without saying a word.
I drive to the small convenience store, rehearsing my collection speech in my head as I grip the steering wheel tightly.
The shopkeeper is a middle-aged man with graying hair and a tired look in his eyes.
He is restocking the shelves with canned goods when I walk in, and he glances up at me briefly before returning to his work.
I approach him slowly, clutching the folder to my chest and trying not to make any sudden movements.
He doesn’t seem to notice me as he continues to arrange the soup cans on the shelf.
My hand brushes against the cold metal of the.22 in my waistband, and I remember Jay’s words as I watch the shopkeeper’s exposed back.
I turn and walk out, leaving the folder behind.
I pause at the metallic click behind me, my hand still on the door handle.
The sound of shuffling footsteps makes me turn slowly.
The shopkeeper has moved behind his counter, his gentle demeanor replaced by a cold stare.
His weathered hands grip a shotgun, the barrel aimed at my chest.
He reaches over with one hand, turning the deadbolt on the door.
The confined space of the store feels smaller now.
Shelves of groceries box me in as I raise my hands, the folder dropping to the floor.
I keep my hands up, eyes locked on the shotgun.
The shopkeeper’s gaze is cold and unyielding.
He motions me toward the counter with the barrel of the gun.
I take small steps forward, my heart pounding in my chest.
As I approach, I notice something peculiar.
There is a rug on the floor behind the counter, partially concealing a trapdoor.
My mind races, wondering what could be hidden beneath.
"Open it," he commands, his voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation.
I tremble as I lift the rug and pull the handle of the trapdoor.
A dark staircase descends into the unknown.
The shopkeeper gestures for me to go down.
I take the stairs one at a time, my heart pounding in my chest.
Each step creaks beneath my weight, echoing through the narrow passage.
The shopkeeper follows closely behind, the shotgun never wavering from its target.
As I reach the bottom, a dim light illuminates a small room filled with crates and old furniture.
The air is musty and stale, and I can hear the sound of scurrying rodents coming from the shadows.
The shopkeeper motions for me to sit down in a dusty chair that is pushed up against a rickety table.
I comply, keeping my hands raised as he rummages through a nearby crate.
He pulls out an old revolver and places it on the table, just within my reach.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looks at me, his eyes softening for a moment. "Because you're not the first to come looking for what’s hidden here."
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "And what exactly is hidden here?"
The shopkeeper sighs, glancing at the revolver. "Secrets that should have stayed buried."
