The Champ looked up from pouring through the contents of the remaining data sticks when he heard a woman in reception scream, “Fuck you!” The Champ frowned, knowing he’d heard that voice before but not immediately remembering where/when. But then he shrugged. Whoever she was, he could handle it. He could always handle it, whatever it was, and he always, always came out on top.
Like getting his wife convicted for his beating their pregnant daughter right here in this motherfuckin’ storage-space building. And, speaking of mother fucking, he’d had so much fun getting Imogene pregnant. He wondered how soon he could have fun with his grandchild…
Thinking about that got The Champ in the mood and he went back to the data stick he’d been checking through, glad that…in addition to all that election-tampering shit…he’d backed-up at least some of his extensive collection of kiddie porn.
Motherfucker, thought The Champ, the hand he’d been using elsewhere jerking toward the Beretta 3032 Tomcat he always, always kept in his pocket. Palm-sized but lethal, and he knew how to use it and had done so many, many times…like that little kid he’d found all alone in a park who hadn’t wanted him to have fun. Cops never even got close to figuring that one out.
But then he saw it was only that old bitch, Amelia.
“Didn’t mean to disturb you but did want to congratulate you on getting your wife convicted and sent off to prison for life. Must have been hard for you, but I for one am so happy to know she’ll no longer be a threat to either Imogene or her baby. But you should now get your daughter out of that hospital…right away. I’ve always heard it was the very worst-imaginable hospital but seeing what it must have done to poor Karen’s mind is the ultimate proof.”
The Champ rubbed his chin in thought. Kiddie porn could only take him so far. Imogene home? His grandchild on the way? That would really, really be fun.