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This is why you don't fuck with the Rough Riders (Open Frequency)

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*The frequency turns on, the ripping of tape can be heard, then the frequency goes out. Suddenly comes back in. Jack tapes the PTT button down. Someone can be heard trying to talk but muffled.*

"Hello people of mother fucking Chernarus! Say hello to my friend, what was your name?"

*A small struggle is heard and a gasping voice is heard.*

"Ryan Mitchell! Fuck..."

*This is followed by a light chuckle, and Jack sets down the radio. Sounds are a bit more faint now*

"Well Ryan Motherfucking Mitchell, I want to know why you are trespassing on Rough Rider Turf? And why were you taking our guns? Huh?"

"I promise you, I had no idea it was your land or your things!"

"Well Ryan, tell me, are you in a group? Don't motherfucking lie to me now, you know what kind of damage I can do if you lie to me..."

"I'm not in any group, I promise you! I have been wandering on my own for awhile now. I have no friends!"

"Ryan, I already fucking cut off one of your hands, don't make me fucking cut the other one off too. Tell me the fucking truth. We found a fucking radio in your bag, and it was connected to a radio frequency 114.2"

*Jack puts the rope in Ryan's mouth speaks in the radio*

"Anyone out there? Anybody on this frequency? Ahh hello, sounds like we got two motherfuckers in here. Nice to see you boys. Group called ATLAS? Interesting. You know a man named Ryan Mitchell? Oh, so you do! And he is with you boys? Well then, looks like this motherfucker is in some deep shit. Appreciate it."

*Quiet crying can be heard in the background*

"Shut the fuck up pussy! Stop fucking bitching. You brought this upon yourself buddy..."

*Jack picks up his special baseball bat*

"See this buddy? This is my fucking Excaliber, and I'm gonna fucking rock the shit out of you with this baby."

*Muffled screaming and a struggle is heard. Jack pulls out the rope of Ryan's mouth.*

"Got something to say bitch? Any last words?"

"You don't need to do this, we can work someth-

"Fuck your negotiations! I want you fucking dead! Got anything else you want to fucking say?"

*A very quiet noise of spit is heard*


*Jack shoves the rope in Ryan's mouth and pulls out a machete, cutting off his hand in one slice.*


"Oh boy, you have NO FUCKING IDEA what you just did! Time for the motherfucking show to start. Let's see how fucking strong you are now!"

*A loud whack is heard*

"HOLY SHIT! Holy shit, you took a hard motherfucking hit! Fucking respect for staying awake! Oh shit, that's a whole lot of fucking blood coming out, that is from the nails, those are pretty nifty, huh?" (chuckles)

"P-p-pl... please... l-let me go..."

"We're just getting started! Round motherfucking two!"

*Another loud whack is heard, followed by a thump*

"Another motherfucking one bites the fucking dust! But why stop? Baby is thirsty!"

*Many loud whacks are heard each one sounding more wet and disgusting then before.*

"Well holy shit, that is why you don't fucking mess with Rough Riders! Oh fuck, now I gotta wash 'er off and do something with his body and fucking brains. Fuck."

*Grassy footsteps get louder and louder until Jack picks up the radio, untaping the PTT button and ending the transmission.*

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*Evzen stumbles upon the transmission while flipping through some frequencies. As he hears the man being tortured he quickly jots down the frequency and notes for the intelligence officers. At the sound of the man's death, he reaches forward to confront the civilian, but hears the transmission suddenly silence. Instead of responding, he jots down a few more notes on the transmission and tears out the page. He neatly folds the paper and writes something on the top, then goes back to flipping through frequencies.*

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*hears the radio message*

Dont know... but that is very scary. Torturing and killing someone over the radio and trying to sound very spooky while doing that.

I am not sure if that was a good idea to be honest when I think of how many people could listen here.

But okay. 

*shakes the head a from side to side and giggles a little bit*

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*He holds down the PTT*

"Is that what happens when the rough riders ride rough?  Some weird murder fetish?"

*He lets go of the PTT*

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*Jason hears the transmission, he replies*

"Man, you guys are tough. Every thirsd word of yours is a curse word, your mother would be ashamed. Your methods sound very amateur, perhaps I could teach you a thing or two. Come find me in Lopatino."

*He puts his radio down and continues to sniff crushed pills he found in a clinic*

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*CJ hears the man torturing down the radio and the responses and decides to pick up his radio*

*Holds down the PTT* 

*Chuckles and speaks within a slightly sarcastic tone*

"I would agree that it isn't very smart but it's great for entertainment! If only I had some popcorn, some sweets and a slush puppie! it would be like sitting at the cinema like the old days"

*Releases the PTT*

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*Jack listens to the responses and smiles a bit and presses the PTT button*

Good news, clean up wasn't all that bad. Keep in mind this fucker was stealing from us and potentially spying on us. I ain't gonna deal with a motherfucking spy or a thief. And we are not fucking psychos who murder people for fun. That's fucked up. But if you fuck with us...

*Jack takes his finger off the PTT button and sets his radio down to enjoy the breeze*

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*An American accented male transmits the following reply.*

[align=left]"Ain't that just a little fucked? You realize you like, don't actually have to broadcast a snuff film, right? In all seriousness though, go find something better to do with your time. You honestly say you don't have something better to do? C'mon, read a book and get some education in you since you seem to lack a nice vocabulary or better yet, stop wasting battery on transmitting the torture of some innocent. I'd say have a heart, but it's clearly made of stone."

*The American voice fades off into the sea of silence on the radio.*

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*chuckles and laughs about what she just heard*

Yeah... torturing and killing someone over the radio who stole something... that seems normal and not fucked up.

Man... you live in your own little world hm?

*chuckles again*

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*Sonny listens to the radio, smirking to himself at how pathetic they are knowing that it's Cowboy's people before speaking into it sarcastically*

"Oh man, I'll be sure not to fuck with you guys!" 

"Scary Stuff!" 

"You guys wanna know another scary story? Cowboy? Since this is one of your boys i'm assuming you're listening... I'll be sure to finish the story in person, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

*Radio goes silent, Sonny mumbles to himself "They call themselves fuckin Rough Riders" before slightly laughing*

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*Izaak responds*

If I were you, I wouldn't broadcast this kind of shit publicly. You make yourselves look bad and because of that we look bad too. Watch what you say.

*Izaak releases the PTT*

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*Blades hears this joke of a transmission and presses the PTT*

*in a sarcastic voice*

i almost cut myself on your edge

*Followed by a chuckle and a short pause*

watch what you say and do on the radio kid , as they said you are making yourself look bad , and the people who you represent

*He sighs and releases the PTT*

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*Dalton holds down the PTT*

"I-... Y-... You! You terrible human being! Torturing a man over the public radio waves! How dare you? How d- no, how dare you even THINK about doing such a thing? I'll have you know that I've alerted the Chernarussian Police Department of your illegal activities, and they'll be on their way to sort you out personally young mister!"

"I'm kidding my dude, but on a real note, if you're going to be edgy, atleast do it right. Who are you again?"

"Oh yeah, and like a certain someone else said, maybe you shouldn't be so spooky over the radio, you never know who's listening."

*He releases the PTT*

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*Scrolls through frequencies while trying to find music and hears the transmission*


*Picks up his radio and presses the PTT while smiling a bit*

"You know man? I'm tired of you so called thugs trying to sound badass, you are just getting yourself in to a lot of trouble."

"The fact that every other word is motherfucker, fuck, fucking fuck doesn't make you sound very intelligent."

"I would be so much more scared if someone intelligent had something really scary to say. Or if they had something more to do other than show their muscles which don't even help when the right people are after you."

"You really should become a bit smarter, you got many people on your ass now."

"Rough Riders" *Laughs* "These people are not scared, they will hunt you down. Hide, you still have a chance.."

"Just a friendly advice."

"I'm going to continue my search now, please don't interrupt anyone with that ever again."

*Releases the PTT and continues searching for music*

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*Kirill is listening to the broadcast and rolls his eyes. He raises his radio to his lips and replies.*

You call this a torture? I am amazed, that the victim lasted that long by your poor butcher skills. Pathetic. Crawl into a fucking hole and hope nobody will find you and recognize you...

*The transmission stops. Kirill puts his radio back to his  trousers and keeps strolling trough the nothern woods.*

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Mack picks up the radio and responds, laughing.

"You're trying too hard, dude. When you torture people, it's better to keep the radio off, so when people hear your voice in town, they don't blow your brains out.

It was a good effort though."

He releases the PTT.

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*Ryan sits at his desk and taps his foot restlessly, almost bored of his relaxing lifestyle up north. He takes the radio and listens to the broadcast, chuckling at the various responses before holding the PTT*

Rough Riders... that's that new motorcycle club isn't it... Jesus Christ

Well... nice public execution on poor Ryan there, that ought to piss people off and get people after you. But I guess that's the general trend with mc's, they just enjoy being shot at

*he chuckles*

Oh yeah, word of advice. Don't trust that other group of bikers, the Pagans. They're good at backstabbing their allies and friends. I recommend just killing them off, it's quite easy actually

Anyway, good luck... I guess

*he releases the PTT and sighs, looking blankly at the wall infront of him. Finally he says "fuck it" before heading outside with the aim of gathering more information on the people he is hunting*

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*The radio bursts to life with Cowboy nearly screaming*

"Dammit prospect! What did I tell you about talking to other people? Fuckin' Christ now we got a plate full of shit to clean up."

*He sighs before angerily throwing his radio.*

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*Cowboy picks his radio back up, muttering some cuss words under his breath.*

"Sorry about that folks, I can assure you that Mr. Woods was just a prospect, he in no way speaks for the club, and was completely out of line to do this, there will be punishment for him don't you worry, sometimes people get big in their heads and think it's a good idea to broadcast......  Well things like that, we are Motorcycle Enthusiasts, we don't sell drugs or do any other "illegal" behavior, you can ask anyone out there, have a good day everyone, and yet again, the prospect will get his punishment for this outburst."

*He turns off his radio, looking at Snake, "He almost got a lot of people on our ass brother, hide the coke and the rest of the supply, we don't want his fuck up to come back on the Club.  Oh and when you find Jack, put him down.", *Cowboy would angerily walk out of the clubhouse, cussing every few seconds or so.*

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Mack picks up the radio and responds, trying to keep from laughing.

"Alright man, I'm not trying to start a 'radio war' or whatever the fuck people call them, but you don't have to bullshit your way out of this. Just simply admit your guy screwed up and move on. You don't have to sell the horseshit that you guys 'don't sell drugs' or do anything else 'illegal', because nobody gives a fuck anyway, nothing is illegal anymore. It's the end of the world, I couldn't care less if you sell your meth or whatever you sell because I know you sell something. Hell, at least the Pagans didn't hide that they were all rats.

Anyway, have a good one dude, don't kill your edgy prospect or whatever."

He releases the radio and wraps another bandage around the left side of his face, covering his missing eye.

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*The Good Warden Tate Hollows grew bored and had turned his radio on in his hidden woodland camp to hear some chatter, when he stumbles across this frequency. He partially wants to remain hidden from the world, but simply cannot help himself.*

"I'm... Not going to identify myself, but if the Sea Cops were still around... Even we wouldn't bother with these 'Rough Riders'. Waste of time, bunch of amateurs. Good grief. It's like people try too hard to aspire to Masquerade level cringe. Oh well. They won't last long, they never do."

*He turns his radio off and goes back to laying in his hammock, eyeing his old Regulator Warden's cap sitting on a desk in his tent intently.*

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Hope takes her radio with a confused tone.

"So first beating your wife, second blaming her for the death of her children. Then I hear that you're 'motorcycle enthusiasts' and you are mentioning you don't sell drugs... Which wasn't even necessary to the conversation... And you punish your prospect... Which isn't something any normal person but a motorcycle club would do... And... please change that ridiculous name... Rough Riders... Sounds like a title for an 1980's porno.... Something I want to stay far away from... But let me ask you after all those statements... Are you hiding something Mitchell?"

She listens in on the conversation that may arise.

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*James picks up his radio remembering what sonny said to him about these "Rough Riders" to him the other day. He ponders for a second before replying*

Your "prospect" did this all on his own...

*James pauses briefly*

I dont buy that shit for one second.. Im going to guess there were more than one person at this horrifying act your man commited over the airwaves.

Not an intelegent move on your part.. if you guys want to appear "tough" like Real bikers. You let your reputation do the talking not, let some prospect execute some poor fuck over the radio... 

*James pulls a handrolled cigarette out of his jacket and lights it before continuing*

Stay the fuck out of lopatino or we'll have to repay the kindness you gave to that poor man.

*James takes a drag off his cig and tosses his radio in his bag*

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*Skinner stops laughing long enough to reply. He signals for silence from the men around him.*

Wow, that was half way entertaining. Gosh, your voice sounds awfully familiar. You sound a lot like this pathetic little bitch I had at the end of my knife the other night. But wait, that couldn't be you, he was crying and begging for his life and you sound like some kind of tough guy.

Wait a minute what did your boss call you? Prospect? Mr. Wood? Well what a coincidence, because somewhere between shitting his pants and begging us to let him go, the coward I'm thinking of called himself Jack Wood. This was shortly before swearing up and down he wasn't affiliated with any groups. In fact, if I recall correctly he even squeaked that he was a member of Blackwood. Weird, I wonder why you were so afraid to admit you were a member of this adorable motorcycle fan club?

Hey Jack, maybe you need a little reminder about your place in this world. There's those who talk, and there's those who act. You're a talker, Jack. If you're listening, Jack, I want you to take your right hand and I want you to feel your right ear, go ahead and trace your fingers down along your ear and tell me what you feel. Do you want me to take more, is that what I need to do until you understand? Maybe next time I'll take your head off and be done with it.

Listen carefully now Jack, my name is Skinner, remember it. It may be the last one you hear when hell comes raining down on you and your friends.

*Clipping his radio back to his belt, he remembers how he turned the dead mans head towards Jack and moved his jaw, using him like a puppet to interrogate Jack. He breaks out into laughter until tears rolls down his cheeks and his face is red.*

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*Cowboy sighs at all the talking on his radio, sitting at the clubhouse as he sorts through parts to work on his bike with.*

"Listen, it's done and over with, none of us told the Prospect to kill a guy, we just make him polish our boots and clean the clubhouse and the bitch work, maybe he thought this would gain him respect, but let me tell ya Jack, it didn't in fact this is grounds to cut you from your prospect patch...... That's kinda sad kid, you cried? Rough Riders don't cry in the face of danger, and Hope, Xela and I are fine thanks for askin', she's here with us, at the clubhouse, unharmed and we are both doing wonderful together, we worked things out, but I still get tired of all the jaw yappin' over the radio, I hate this damn thing, it keeps me up at night buzzin' and it annoys the piss outta me durin' the day, so quite honestly, you all can say and think what ya want, I don't give two shit actually, dunno what the Hell we did to piss y'all off, go change your diaper's and continue to cry if that's what you want, but threaten us? No we don't stand for that shit, we'll shut that shit down quick."

*He sighs muttering to himself, "Fuckin' idiots, always havin' an input and stickin' there noses into places they don't belong. I've been in this club for years, ever since I was 18, I'll be damned if I let these fuckers ruin it now.", he slams his fist on the Clubhouse table, standing up and walking into the other room with the rest of the Club members.*

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