Book 1 – Blood is thicker than water

Prologue 



This Is Only The Beginning

The camera focused on two gloved men beating and pistol-whipping a man tied to a metal chair. After a few hard strikes across the face with the butt of a large black pistol, pieces of the victim’s teeth shattered and exploded from his mouth. Seconds later, the butt of a wooden handled sawed off shotgun smashed into the other side of his face. A crimson spray of spit squirted from his mouth as the sound of impact crumbling his jawbone traveled out of the speakers.

The man sobbed loudly like a baby and pleaded for mercy. One of Tyrell’s men walked over to the powerless prey. Pushing the gun into the man’s quivering thigh, Tyrell’s man pulled the trigger. The blast traveled into the leg, ripping away the flesh, and exposing the bloody muscles. The man hollered, pleaded, and begged them to stop. However, the unsympathetic gangster shot him in the other thigh. The victim let out another sickening scream. His body jerked and the chair tipped over, and flung him hard to the concrete floor. Jarred lose because his battered face slammed against the floor, he spit out more of his teeth and blood onto the plastic then screamed for them to stop. His light brown pants turned crimson red as the blood flowed from the gaping wounds and dripped to the floor beneath him.

Reaching down, the two gangsters picked the metal chair off the floor, and slammed it down. When the legs hit the concrete floor, the man screamed again. One of the men strolled over, pulled the victim’s head back, and stared down into his questioning eyes. Shoving the end of the gun into the wound on the man’s right thigh, the gangster squeezed the trigger again. A crimson spray of blood erupted from the man’s leg as another round ripped through the wound making the injury much larger. His thighbone became visible as the force of the shot ripped the pinkish colored flesh apart. The harsh tactics proved effective if not brutal. Suddenly a dark fog crept over his consciousness and his pupils disappeared in the back of his eye sockets. The torture, loss of blood, and pain was robbing him of the power and strength to stay woke.

Tyrell picked up the wooden handled tin bucket off the heating plate and walked over to his helpless prey. Holding the hot bottom of the pail with an oven mitt, he poured the water over the man’s body. His victim screamed again as the water burnt into his flesh and caused his skin to instantly blister. He started to black out again; he jerked and his eyes rolled to the back of his head again. However, some liquid ammonium carbonate beckoned his mind back through the black hole of semi-consciousness that the pain created. Tyrell needed him woke and his mind as sharp as possible. However, once he got the information he needed, he had no more use for him.

The gangsters bombarded their victim until he begged for death. He told Tyrell everything; about how his boss wanted Tyrell dead because he’d become so powerful and his territory had become large and very profitable. No sooner had the last words fallen from his shattered mouth, one of the men strode forward, stuck the muzzle of the pistol against the helpless man’s head, and pulled the trigger. Mitch’s blood sprayed across the tarp after the large 44-caliber bullet ripped a large section of skin and bone from the defenseless victim’s forehead. He then kicked the chair over. As the body fell to the ground, most of the pitted brain emerged from the grotesque wound and leaked some semi clear fluid from inside the brain cavity. The corpse, no longer recognizable as human, lay in a quickly gathering pool of blood and fluids.