The Skull-Crushers and the Night Riders had noticed something: There was a mole in each of their factions! And there was little to nothing they could do about it except to maintain constant vigilance that no
tigers
surprises would befall them unawares. For it was common knowledge that moles were sneaky-devious, if you know what I mean. And they couldn't have their gang operations interrupted constantly by a bunch of secret Illuminati-esque people secretly doing secret things... secretly. It just would not do.
So the leaders of both gangs decided to form a truce. Yes, a truce.
It had been decided. That day, they would get together and discuss probable strategies for a) finding and weeding out the moles within their midst, and b) wreaking even more havoc on the town than usual! And perhaps c) getting drunk in celebration of the end of the long bloody battle between the two large gangs, whose respective "turf" overlapped in this very amusement park, and whose respective members actually shared more in common with each other than they had differences.
The meeting place:
The Cooler, a concession where frozen drinks and other assorted goodies were sold during the daytime.
The meeting time:
Night time. The right time, duh. Half-past-midnight, an hour after the stand closed for the evening.
The terms:
No weapons. Well, maybe some. Alright, fine. Just don't try to use them, ok?
The two leaders showed up. They were alone, because they didn't want the park's Security Officers to catch on to what was transpiring that night. They wanted to wreak glorious chaos the next day, without the Officers even having a shadow of a clue. And so they got to discussing terms. And more terms. They had gotten down to the very heart of the matter and were discussing all of the details deeply and concentratingly, when suddenly, a loud noise was heard behind them.
Immediately, firearms were drawn. The peace was shattered as recently allayed suspicions leapt to the forefront of each man's mind. Each man had his weapon pressed into the other's throat. Both men broke out into a sweat as they looked at each other, sworn enemies for the past decade, having come together in a moment of need, to unite against the forces of good in a way that only two harbingers of evil could. Cold metal pressed into warm flesh, and each man gulped at the thought of the other man's shaking finger just barely grazing the trigger.
And then AlmasterGM saw the look in curiouskarmadog's eyes turn from fear into malice. And in that instant, both men knew they were going to die. Rounds already racked into the chambers, their fingers squeezed on the triggers simultaneously. Metal pins struck primer, gases detonated; shrapnel peeled from each round as it tore its way down the cold metal rifling of each pistol's barrel. Powder burn marks appeared on each man's neck just below his jawline, as each bullet entered into the soft skin, leaving the signature star-shaped rip of an entry wound as is signature of a contact shot.
Both men stumbled backwards with their necks blown wide open, exit wounds gushing blood gratuitously. Debilitated past all point of return, they looked into each other's eyes one last time before slumping to the ground only feet from each other. They expired within minutes.
The noisy bunny rabbit in the bushes, scared by the dual gunshots, turned his tail and hopped as quickly as he could away into the foliage.
