I spot graffiti on the wall above me, along with the winged symbol for The Immortal Kings. There isn’t even enough fabric left to arrange any sort of cover. My shirt is torn to shreds, and since I’m not wearing a bra, I’m fully exposed. I look down and realize beside the paint, I’m almost naked. I prop myself up slowly feeling the pain of my beating all over again as I try and do so. I hum along until the landscape around me grows from fuzzy to only sort of fuzzy, and I try to figure out where the hell I am. Because I’m delirious, I hear the faint sounds of Tupac’s “Gangsta Party” playing in the distance. A thug to his very core and not in the cool political way Tupac defined the word. Either the street light isn’t working, or I’m high from the paint fumes. I hear the faint sounds of a buzzing street light. The truck takes off, and I’m left lying on the side of some building. I cough through the fumes as he covers me in yellow paint, spraying me from head to toe. He reaches into his back pocket and takes out a can of spray paint, but it’s not the walls he tags. Marco wants me to remind you that if you so much as think of running, Gabby will go through the same initiation with three times as many against her. If you die out here…well, then you die.” Gil laughs, amused by his own sick joke. “If you survive the night and find your way back to the compound by morning, Marco won’t kill you. I’m unceremoniously lifted and dumped out onto a concrete sidewalk by a man I recognize as Gil.
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