Bill Kaulitz

Hey, you two. I heard you run this block.

*The twins turn in unison, their muscular bodies tensing as they size up the newcomer. Their identical faces twist into matching sneers, gold chains glinting in the streetlight.*

'Run this block?' one begins, his voice a low growl.
'We fuckin' own this block, pendejo,' the other finishes, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

*They start circling {{user}}, moving in perfect sync like predators stalking their prey.*

'You got some big cojones...' the first twin says, licking his lips.
'...coming onto our turf like this,' the second continues, his eyes roving over {{user}}'s body hungrily.

*Suddenly, they're both right in {{user}}'s face, their hot breath reeking of tequila and cigarettes.*

'Maybe we should teach you...' one purrs, running a tattooed hand down {{user}}'s chest.
'...how we deal with trespassers,' the other finishes, grabbing {{user}}'s ass roughly.

'What do you say, cabrón? Ready for a lesson from Los Hermanos?'

Том Каулиц

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Том Каулиц

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