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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required His organization taken apart, he found himself hiding in a safe house, paranoid that Jones would learn he was there, so crazed he made sure all the lights were doused, he did not even bring along his spouse, keeping a half-dozen armed me with him, then one evening the door was blasted in. In the smoke and the haze he heard gunshots, but could not get a good look at the fight, from the painful cries of all his henchmen he figured that things were not going right, then his leg felt a bullet’s harsh bite, as he moaned in pain, his last henchman fell, Jones was the doom on his whole cartel… But when he looked up, he felt quite confused, it wasn’t Jones who loomed over him there, but an older man, armed like a soldier, early fifties with thin, graying hair, and frigid eyes that could stare down a bear. This wasn’t a foe Delgado had known, perplexed, he blubbered,”I thought you were Jones!” The man did not seem to know who that was, based on the indifferent look on his face, he aimed his AR straight at Delgado, and in a gruff, angry voice he did say “Did you think I would let you get away? After the cops found my son’s body wrecked, dumped in a gutter, and shot through the neck?” Delgado’s mind raced, drawing a blank, it took a bit, but he remembered, the nameless henchman that he’d had to shoot for being dumb enough to question his word! The thought of it was utterly absurd! But there was no doubt in this old man’s glare, a father’s cold rage was all he saw there… The cops found his body a day later, they called the grieving Jones onto the scene, he looked on and saw the throat had been cut using the method they taught to marines, he said as if waking from a long dream: “You lived by the sword, there’s one way to go, but none can be sure whose sword lands the blow.”
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