He didn’t even bother to look up as the door creaked open behind him. Some kid come to take justice into his own hands, he thought. He chuckled.

“I thought I’d find you here. It’s where I’d be.”

Chauvin turned to look at the stranger. A short, portly man. And vaguely familiar. He looked Hispanic—or maybe more white-Hispanic. “What do you want.”

The stranger tipped his head back slightly. “I’m forming a team.”

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42231597)

Spinning around on his stool, Chauvin sized the man up. So he was forming a team. "You got off one shot," Chauvin mumbled. "Anybody could do that."

"What about three shots?" the voice behind him said. A third person, barely more than a boy, emerged from the shadows. Not much taller than the jukebox he stood next to, his cheeks were still flush with... what caused cheeks to flush? Derek couldnt remember anymore.

"Call me Kyle," the kid said.

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42231622)

https://twitter.com/KrangisBack/status/1379518454831677444

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42232143)

A shadowy figure, old and bespectacled, emerged into the smoky room. "At ease men."

He ambled up to the bar, sizing up the crew.

"Bernard is the name. You know what's better than three? Four. I've been biding my time since '84, but I've called you here because the team is finally ready."

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42231869)

“And I thought you were supposed to be a cop. Is this how a cop behaves.”

Derek chuckled again. “Actually, yeah. Pretty much. Besides, I’m not a cop anymore. They took my badge.”

“They take your balls too?”

“Kyle, enough!” the portly man snapped. His eyes narrowed on Derek. “It wasn’t your badge they took—it was theirs. They just lent it to you. And it wasn’t what made you a cop. Take it from us, you don’t need a badge to be a hero. Cop or no, there are still bad guys out there. One in particular.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek smirked. Heroes? Bad guys? This guy was as crazy as they said on TV. “And what did this bad guy do?”

“Nothing. That’s just the thing. He didn’t do nothing.”

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42235475)

The bottle nose, snub and silent, spun until it found its final resting place -- pointing right out the double doors of Clem's joint. The Minneapolis streets, still wet. So this was it. He would go with them.

He stuck his mitts into his pockets. Didn't want anyone to see them trembling. Especially not the kid. Christ, the kid was young. The trembling continued. It was the drink, Chauvin told himself. Just the drink, not nerves.

The three cut an unlikely figure as they stepped into the streets. Chauvin looked for their ride. But there was no heap anywhere. He heard a rustling from underneath the streetlight around the corner, on Price. They led that way and he followed.

"You ready?" the fat one said.

"Horses?" Chauvin blinked.

Some litter rolled past their feet, blown ragged in the wind. A burger wrapper. Down the block a streetlight fizzed out.

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42235675)

"Look fellas, I'm really not in the mood for any of this crap, OK?" Chauvin growled in a low voice, swiftly motioning for Clem to come grab his card. "I'm out of that game. Done. Sure, I had my moment, and sure, it was good and fun while it lasted... but it's over now. It's over, and I'm -- I'm just old and alone."

It wasn't until Clem drew near that Chauvin realized something seemed oddly different about him tonight. Even in the dim light, his dark eyes seemed to twinkle behind his thick spectacles, and an almost imperceptible smirk seemed to light up his otherwise sallow and sagging face. He leaned forward and clasped Chauvin's shoulder with his left hand as he slammed another shot of whiskey down on the bar with his right.

"And what exactly's wrong with 'old and alone', partner? Look, your money's no good in here tonight. I don't need your $5 -- I've still got my own, after all."

"Clem, I can't, you know I don-"

"Name's not really Clem, brother," the aged barhand murmured softly, winking mischievously at the two other men standing behind Chauvin as he squeezed Chauvin's shoulder in an oddly paternal manner. "And now that you've Seen Kyle, hurry up and take that shot -- you don't look too bad, so have another. We've got a lot to discuss and we need to 'Goetz going,' heh."

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42232094)

https://www.cnn.com/2012/12/03/justice/george-zimmerman-photo/index.html

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42236435)

sorry, Thugvon and Floyd weren't the saints the media told you they were

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42238390)

Zimmerman walked because the stupid nigger kid chimped out and got got

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42237310)

"Not just any team, a soccer team!" bellowed the rotund Hispanian.

*shoves soccer ball into Chauvins abdomen*

*Chauvin yields, gasping for air, winded and grounded*

"We've been to every fag joint in town and gathered the most virile gays. But you Chauvin--you will be our shining star!"

Silhouettes of towering lardos slowly emerged from Chauvin's peripheral vision as he peered towards the heavens.

"Y-You're here to help?" cried Chauvin. "I can't breathe..."

"Yes, we are here...to help. Where we're going, we don't need air to breathe!"

"Three, two, one, STIM!"

Volleys of what appeared to be a viscous white liquid started gushing from all angles. Our hero Chauvin could no longer hear or see or think...or breathe. The liquid drowned the room. 'This is it' he thought. 'This is...the end'

And in a flash, Chauvin snapped awake from his nightmare. "Thank god its over!" Chauvin let out an exasperated laugh.

"I don't remember my bedroom being white. Wait, this room isn't white!"

He gathered himself and started feeling out his environs. It went completely around. "This is, this is, this is a tube! And--and..."

He moved his hand away from his eyes, as it faded into nothingness. "The white is the fluid? Am I breathing this fluid?"

He launched himself at the walls of the tube. He could finally see beyond. "Another tube? Another, like me? No, wait this one...this one is different!"

The fleshy silhouette inside the adjacent tube slowly bounced towards Chauvin. A silhouette gained clarity as something otherworldly, imprinted into his eyes for eternity. Horror show.

"A buttocks on one end, and a tongue on another."

A familiar voice. The Hispanian!

"...one of my earlier experiments."

The fleshy abomination stopped moving and pointed its tonguehole towards our hero. "I aM PeTeRMaN. YoU WiLL LeArN tO LoVe mE! LoVvVvVvVvVe mE!" It rotated asswise and let off a loudening hiss. Impeding doom. The tongue-buttocks began violently gyrating, then in a few split moments, it grew tenfold in size and exploded. A slurry of satanic entrails and parasites painted the adjacent tube entirely red. Most appeared to be harvested mechanically, whatever was left, slowly coalesced. Coalesced back into another otherworldly tongue-buttocks.

"This is how gays reproduce. How do you expect to form a soccer team if gays cannot reproduce? We would only have two players! You need at least seven for a team you stupid gringo!" The Hispanian sighs. "God you're stupid!"

The adrenaline is wearing off. Reality sets in. Encased in a crystal prison, entombed by gallons of semen. Tubes inserted into every orifice. Rainbow suspenders. A 24/7 Drilldo massage. A switch is flicked and everything is now pitch black. Pitch black except for the rows and rows of seemingly infinite bioluminescent tongue-buttocks bouncing off the tube walls in perpetuity. Chauvin hears footsteps of a man walking away. He smiles. "The metamorphosis has just begun!"

(https://autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=4804566&forum_id=2#42237213)