The new office wouldn't be a place of production for Turt, but he didn't care. He laughed greedily as he leaned back in his rolling chair. "Well, I made it big now, didn't I?" And a large smile grew across his face. He knew using the money refunded generously by @jmichael214 from a recent donation scam for the improved TURTMANSION was a waste of money, why did he need the roof done in gold blocks? He didn't care. For him it was about the status. He spun around in his office chair and abruptly jumped out of surprise when the doorbell rung. "It's @Duckman_ !" Turt's janitor @_Leebra_ shouted from the door. "I can answer the door myself, thanks. How much did that cost?" "Sir, such a small task shouldn't be monetarily feesable." "I was joking, gees." Turt stepped up to his brother duckman and sized him up for a minute. "What happened to you?" Turt inquired as he observed the mud, dirt and bruises covering his own flesh and blood. "They're coming." Turt raised his brow. "You know who! The same guys that destroyed your old home and town back in hunters vile! What are their names again?" Turt was quiet for a moment, then burst into laughter. Duckman looked at him, bent over laughing so hard he was crying. "Oh my God... You mean @pbrassat17 and @bwink66 ? Let's see that happen." He chuckled as he leaned over the arched doorway and pressed a button under the welcome mat. In a sudden flash, hundreds of people could be heard running. Duck lookes behind him to see an army of builders stampeding toward turt. Turt smiled as they approached, some on horses. They all wore full sg boss armour, and weilded max bows, swords and axes. There had to be at least 300 of them, duckman counted. "Wow! Where'd they come from?" Duck was in awe. "My wallet, sheesh. What's up with the get-up? Were you rolling in kconahan's grave?" Duckman frowned at the dark joke. "No, the guys... Bwink was in a helicopter... I told you, they're coming." And at that very moment, a glass bottle came flying down from the sky and crashed comically over duck's head. As he hit the floor, so did the letter entitled to Turt. His reflex for contracts jolted his right arm to the paper. He ripped off the sticker keeping it rolled up. "Rich people annoy me with their special rolly sticky thingies." He muttered as he unrolled the paper. He squinted at the text for a moment. "Times New Roman? Is it just me or is this fricking 2010? Am I right Leebra!" "Sir, font does not determine the year, but-" "Thanks for the life story, now go make some money cleaning up my fridge or something." Turt snapped. Being rich had turned him a lot more grumpy. His eyes continued across the page: To Turt2014, Your balance of 13,492,141.70 will be paid to @Mission001 by 10:00 pm EST. If you do not abide, your life will be negatively altered until you meet the expectations of me personally. Thanks for your cooperation. "Yeah no, I'll keep my dougj to myself. Thanks for the mail, though. I'm kind of a pyromaniac." And Turt lit the paper on fire with a flint and steel, and threw it on the doorstep beside his unconscious brother. "What are we here for?" A builder in the crowd asked. "Not for your lack of shut-upping, that's for damn sure. False call, go home." And the builders scattered in various directions. "Suburb's got your back." "What?" Turt felt the cold tip of a blade enter his left shoulder and dive into his clavicle. The last thing he saw was the default skin of @SuburbSomeone looking down at him, smiling devilishly. Then everything went black. CHAPTER 1 Turt woke up in confusion and pain. An image started to clear up of the wall in front of him, with a man standing there looking directly forward at Turt. "Hello, I see you've finally woke up." Turt was barely managing to make out what was going on-the immense pain of the stitches across him shoulder was pushed against the chair he was buckled to in the bright, dusty room. "W-where's my money?" He managed to make out over his own heavy breathing. "We're here to talk about that. You'll be handing it over to EBA within the next 24 hours, or the consequences shall apply." The shady man smiled and placed a picture on Turt's lap. It was a picture of his brother in a prison-like chamber, handcuffed to the bars at the door. He was sooty, and covered with sweat, mud and dirt. He looked exhausted. Turt's fists clenched at the thought of the image. He struggled to escale the chair and tried rocking back and forth, while the man laughed. The paper fell off of his lap and flpated to the floor, like a quickly deflating balloon. The paper landed on the other side, showing who the image was titled to and from. "He's a lively one. Perfect asset for Turt's riches! -The Cactus" "Who are you and what the crap is happening?!" Turt was almost pleading. "I'm @UnitedStates2002, I'll be receiving the money. I'm part of the EBA, an undercover organization. The letters stand for "Economic Blackmailing Association". Have the money ready in 2 days. I'll be at your doorstep. @BaccaAMP, it's time to take him back."
