Boosted Redhead

What the fuck did I eat  because you're gonna eat a bullet shotadick 

jez is made of tacos, bears, and earthquakes. With a dash of the North.

Shells is made of pepper, lazy, and clouds. With a dash of Godzilla.

mike chilton is gay pass it on

mike children are gay pass it on

mike “angrily sucks dick” children are gay pass it on

mike "angrilly chucks sick" chilblains are gay pass it on

junkie-redhead started following you

The redhead made no attempt to move his fingertips from where they pushed, tips forcing grooves into the muscular neck of /the/ Abraham Kane. Brad let out a soft snicker again, tip of his flat tongue siding along the wicked curve of his filed sharp teeth.  “Not so tough now, are we, Abey?” He pulled his hand away though, letting the other regain his breath as he listened out for the approach of security, brimming with excitement that gleamed in his eyes. “—These? I’ve got /3/ of them. You picked a fight with the wrong guy, wanker.”

"I'd tell ya', but it'd ruin the fun, old fart." Scoffing, the redhead huffed out a heavy expel of air, upper lip curved in irritation. He folded one arm over the other, casting one glance along the hallway. Unlike most, Brad was utterly calm at the thought of a troupe coming, in fact, he seemed to be welcoming the idea.  Kane wouldn't understand anyway. He'd call Brad crazy; if he begun to explain how his daughter was a tyrant after his death. That these boosters weren't the prototype, but the Julie Kane modified brand. The technology was strong, that was a given. Enough to keep the clone alive, and enough to enhance his already selected skills with violence.  His fingers still drummed along the redheads neck, toying lightly with soft strokes along his jaw. "-- Your cadets are idiots, man... We'd use those guys for target practice, hunting."  Deciding to play into the game, however, Brad let go, and moved back, raising both of his hands in mock defeat. "Come get me, girls. I've been a /bad/ boy~" Licking the tips of his teeth, he made no inclination to move, but his pupils gleamed in excitement, wicked features sharpening in excitement. 

Define your meaning of fun, is it fuckin’, druggin’ or guns?