Chapter Text
--SOMEWHAT SOONER--
The Berens siblings growl curses at one another until Uncle Pieter stomps over to shoulder his way between
them - as burly as Josh and Jace are, their uncle is even more so: "You're arguing and scuffling about about
some spic tail? You're brothers , and apart from that the MISSION is what you're losing sight of, Joshua!" he spits,
fixing the 'older' twin with a steely glare. Our benefactors paid dearly for the expertise of the 'Murder Twins' and you are...
FUCKING.THAT.UP !"
The two men exchange venomous glares until Josh takes a step forward; his brother intercepts him, shoving him backwards
while whispering to him in the invented language of their childhood: it takes several minutes before Joshua allows his brother
to push him back a few feet. "Whatever you want Bro, I'm with you...you know that, yeah?" When his twin nods, Jace kisses his
cheek and tells him he needs a word with Uncle Piet...that he'll 'fix it'.
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"What the fuck is Junior's problem, Kid? He's 'bout to have them motherfucker's 'cross the pond o put all of this to
rest!
"This Spanish chick; he's obsessed with her, Uncle. He met her a few years ago on that Seattle mission - they didn't exactly, uh,
meet; OK; lemme start over: in between surveillance, we hit this bar: Joe's...and this bitch is there most nights - always hooks
up with WHITE FELLAS - so Joshy offers to buy her a drink...which she turned down, right? So right after she says no to Bro
this tall nigger brings her a beer, and just like that they disappear out the back 15 minutes later, which we KNEW they were
goin' to fuck, the way they were all over each other...it took three of us to drag his ass out: shit, there was half a dozen pigs
drinkin' in there - I never seen him like that...maybe we scrub him from this mission?"
"FUCK ME!" Pieter explodes. He regains his composure, then says "Listen, Son...I tried to do right by you boys since
your folks passed. I've protected you best I could, because you're my kin and I love you but if the people who pay us
order your deaths I'll personally take the contract. Get your brother under control, Nephew. And...I'm thinkin' that
lettin' him work out his rage might be best."
"Y-Yessir."
"Them National Action pricks are squawkin' about us bein' too sloppy an' too loud - straighten him out, Jace."
"Yeah. Done."
"Here are your targets." He passed a type written sheet of paper to his younger relation...
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-continued-