Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. WWE does.
Chapter Twenty-One -- Choices
2 months ago...
Peter Hanson sat outside an abandon warehouse, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his drug contacts he'd set himself up with for this particular transaction that was to go down tonight. He'd recently returned from a trip to Mexico after acquiring a massive amount of cocaine to distribute around the Los Angeles area. He and a 'friend', Jeff Hardy were planning on reselling the cocaine to a local cartel looking to expand their inventory. Jeff and his brother Matt were helping Peter with the transaction. Tonight Peter was handing over a 3rd of the cocaine to the Hardy brothers to unload to the cartel. They were smart. Moving too much inventory at one time was too risky. They picked this location in Van Nyes as the transfer point due to its remote location and low risk of being seen.
"Goddammit! Where the hell are they?" Peter fumed as he hit the dashboard of his black Mercedes-Benz, a gift he'd received from his father a year ago. He was becoming increasingly impatient with the latency of the Hardy brothers. They were only 15 minutes late, an unacceptable condition for Peter. He had many reasons to be nervous; for one they could be busted and sent to prison for possession and intent to distribute. Peter was confident that any legal issues he'd gotten himself into would be easily brushed under the rug by his father, who recently won his bid for Mayor of Los Angeles.
A few minutes later a white van emerged from behind the rocky landscape and neared itself towards the warehouse. Peter knew it was Jeff and his brother. He got out of his car and walked over to the front entrance of the warehouse. He put his hands on his hips and began tapping his foot.
'The nerve of these punks', He thought to himself.
As the van parked outside of the warehouse, a slender framed man got out and walked over to Peter. His hair was an intriguing display of red, purple, and green colors. He wore black jeans with the knee caps cut out and a long chain for a belt. He approached Peter who began to bark at the rainbow haired man.
"WHAT THE FUCK TOOK YOU BITCHES SO LONG?!?"
"Dude chill out! We were only like what 10 minutes late?"
"17 If you want to get technical Jeff." Peter scoled.
"Exactly. 17 fucking minutes. Fuck off" Jeff ran his fingers threw his hair and began to blow bubbles with the stick of watermelon flavored gum he was chewing.
"So..." Jeff began.
"What are you dumb? Let's get this over with!"
"Alight chill. Look Peter I had to bring um...a few other people--"
"YOU WHAT?!?" Peter shouted, his eyes filled with rage. "You promised it will just be you and Matt. Dammit!"
"CHILL THE FUCK OUT OK? I had to bring them. Besides it will be much faster for us to load up the coke this way. Now be a good boy and open the damn doors." Jeff turned around and motioned for those inside the van to step out. 3 men, mostly wearing all black clothing got out of the vehicle and walked over to Jeff. Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the warehouse.
"So Jeffy this is Peter huh?" A darked-haired man asked. He was slightly shorter than Jeff and wore a black mesh t-shirt with black leather pants. He also wore black fingerless gloves and he too had a long chain for a belt around his waist.
"Yes Matt that's Peter." Jeff said annoyed, rolling his eyes. He hated it when Matt asked the most stupidest and obvious questions.
"Looks weak to me. He'll rat us out in a heartbeat if we get caught..." Matt said cautiously.
"Yeah I know. Don't worry though. I got it under control." Jeff smiled and proceeded to the back of the van to open the rear doors.
"OK door is open. Let's get this thing over with." Peter said.
"Great. Chavo! Carlito! Load the coke in the van." Two men stepped away the van and entered the warehouse. The bricks of cocaine were stacked near the door. They picked up a few bricks at a time and shuttled them into the van. Jeff, Matt & Peter looked on. Peter began playing with his silver Rolex watch.
"Can you tell them to hurry up?!?" Peter barked. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. His palms also became sweaty.
"Look you fucker", Matt began. He stepped forward and got within inches of Peter's face. "If you don't shut the fuck up I'm gonna--"
"MATT!" Jeff got in between the two men and pushed his brother backwards with his hands. "Both of you just chill the fuck out OK? Shit! Their almost finished." Jeff went back to where he was standing, near a bunch of wooden crates that were stacked at least 10 feet high.
"Finished!" Shouted Carlito as he wiped sweat from his brow and sat on one of the wooden crates. Chavo pulled out a cigarette and began smoking it, puffing the smoke in Peter's direction. He began to snicker when Peter covered his nose and walked away from the smoke clouds that hover in the spot he stood in.
"Alight. Done and Done" Jeff said. He approached peter and spit out his gum.
"OK so the rest we'll unload later right?" Peter asked nervously.
"Sure buddy." Jeff replied, patting Peter's back. A few Seconds later Jeff's cell phone ranged in his pocket. He reached in to grab it and answered it.
"Yeah?"
"We got trouble" Said a voice on the other end.
"What is it Swagger?" Jeff replied?
"Skippy ratted you guys out! The feds are on their way to you guys now. I gotta go." The line went dead.
"Jack? Jack! SHIT!" Jeff dropped his phone and began to step on it violently.
"What's wrong Jeff?" Matt asked.
"Fucking Skippy! He's your friend Peter!" Jeff screamed pointed his finger at Peter in an enraged fashion.
"What?!? What are you talking about Jeff?" Peter exclaimed.
"Skippy fucking snitched on us. The feds will be here any minute. We got to go now!"
"SHIT!" Peter shouted. He dashed towards his vehicle. Carlito & Chavo ran to the van. Jeff & Matt stood their ground.
"EVERYONE HOLD THE FUCK UP!" Jeff growled. "We need to get all this coke out of here. Carlito, Chavo, Matt load the rest of it in the van.
"Screw that! I say we leave the shit here and high tail it in Peter's car. That shits gotta go at least 200 mph" Matt said.
"It's a fucking coup!" Jeff snapped. "Only 2 people can fit in there dumbass. Besides I'm not giving up this shit. I worked too hard for this to just go sour."
"I am not going to prison over this shit." Carlito ranted. Jeff ran over to him and smacked him in the back of the head.
"NO ONE IS GOING TO PRISON! Now load the shit up!"
After all the bricks of coke were loaded, the men were prepared to leave when they noticed headlights coming towards them.
"SHIT! IT'S THE FEDS!" Yelled Peter. "What are we--"
"Chavo, you're bait. Matt, Carlito, let's go." Jeff commanded. All 3 men pulled out semi-automatic weapons from their pockets and began prepping themselves for a fight.
"What the hell are you guys doing?!?" Peter spat out. "You can't..."
Jeff chucked. "Look, I said we weren't going to jail and I meant it. Now you're either with us or not. Either way this is going to happen." He cocked his gun and proceeded with Matt and Carlito to duck behind a large mound of dirt. Peter looked on as Chavo began to pace back and forth near the warehouse entrance. He had to make a decision quick. The headlights were getting closer.
'I...I can't go to prison. I can't get caught!' Peter thought to himself. Time was running out. 'Dammit! I knew this was a bad idea. All this for a quick buck?!? SHIT!'
Peter finally decided to go along with Jeff's plan and he ran to where they had positioned themselves. Peter didn't know just how bad things would get from there on in...
Present Day...
"LIGHTS OUT!"
Peter hated hearing those words. They came out of nowhere every night on the loudspeakers and rang through his ears, giving him headaches. It's been 2 months since that fateful night where his life changed. Jeff fired the shot that killed that FBI agent and they were all going to prison. There was nothing his father could do, or more accurately nothing his father chose to do.
'You got yourself into this mess Peter, you're going to get yourself out of it' His father told him when he came downtown to see him. His mother was all in knots over the arrest. It made her condition worse, something Peter was very sorry for.
Peter shifted in his mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. He had a long road ahead of him. With this event under his belt, he was looking at a good 10-20 years in prison. He wondered if he could survive that. Judging from his current stay at the Los Angeles county jail, prison was going to eat him alive...
...