Chapter Text
The Sahur Estate hits you with the familiar smell of wood, peanut butter, and mangoes as you enter the home. You have been dating Triple T for a year now, you’ve known he would be waiting inside his home for you so that he could welcome you first thing upon entry, a symbol of his really cool determination to his partner.
Today was a different story. Tung wasn’t there to greet you at the door. Instead, you hear the faint drone of the living room TV, presumably from the local news channel. You walk in, and see him motionlessly sitting on the couch, his phone on the coffee table, hitting that sick ass Call of Duty: Black Ops cover art pose.
“He’s dead..” Tung said on sum sad shit or something. “They shot up Tralalero Tralala.. In the Bronx..” A large sip of beer followed up.
Upon seeing YOUR boyfriend sulking on the couch, you immediately walk up to comfort him like the good partner you are. “Tung?? What happened?!?!”
Triple T maintained his pose. He glanced up at you, his face riddled with sadness and dry tears. “Just.. look at the news.” He mysteriously replied on sum cool aurafarming shit.
You looked up to see the TV. The news channel is casually broadcasting some report about price hikes or something, until the next segment came up.
“We have a special report coming in from New York!” The reporter announced rather urgently. “Italian AI personality Tralelero Tralala has been shot dead in the Bronx!” The reporter’s voice maintained their professional tone, like the death of Tralala was nothing but another report for her to speak on a script like every other thing on the goddamn news. “The NYPD have stated that Tralala had been caught in the crossfire of an ongoing gang war, more details are to be released in the following-”
Tung suddenly stood up, walking up to the TV as if it personally insulted him. “He didn’t die from some dumbass gang war! What the FUCK are they even TALKING about?! Why are they trying to COVER UP HIS DEATH???” Hearing the anger in his voice, you walk up to him, putting your hand on his side or something (He’s a stick so he doesn’t have shoulders).
“Hey, Tung, breathe.. Just.. stay calm.. and tell me what happened.” Your voice is soothing, attempting to calm him down, which succeeds as Tung retreats back to the couch with a tired sigh.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I.. I’m just so fucking PISSED. Tralala was my best friend. Went to college together, got famous together, all those nights getting drunk..” He shook his head. “I never got to say goodbye.”
The good partner you are, you continue to comfort him, your arm wrapped around his wooden stick body. “I’m sorry.. Tung.”
“Y/N, it’s alright. You had nothing to do with this.” Tung replied, your comfort being successful in calming him down.
A minute of silence came by, interrupted by the vibration of Tung’s phone.
“I’m a chud, I’m a chud, I’m a fat little chud! Playing League all night until the sun comes up..” The familiar jingle of the recently famous “I’m a chud” song seemed like an insult across the quiet home. Tung leaned his body forward, grabbing the phone from the table, and putting it to his ear.
“What is it, Chimpanzini?” Tung’s voice was monotone, as the call interrupted his sad moment or something.
“Hey Tung. I.. know you’re not in the best of moods right now, I mean, we all are, but.. I need to show you something. About Tralala.” The usually cheerful voice of Chimpanzini Bananini was replaced by something more solemn, hesitant to pull Tung from his grief.
Tung hesitated for a bit, glancing away from the phone, before answering. “..What? Show me something? Is this another one of your jokes?”
You could hear Chimpanzini’s sigh on the phone. “Listen, Tung, do you really think i’d make some stupid joke? During this time?” Another sigh.
“I have the CCTV footage of Tralala’s death.” He continued calmly.
Tung froze in shock. The police had made sure to cover up any detail regarding the shooting that killed Tralalero Tralala. They want to keep it vague. Like they’re covering it up. But why?
“..What?! CCTV footage? How on EARTH did you obtain that?! They’re trying to cover up the damn case!” Tung’s reply was in pure shock, standing up from the couch as he spoke.
“I’m a hacker, of course. I hacked into the NYPD’s mainframe and stole it, heh.” A flicker of Chimpanzini’s usual self returned, as he knew that Triple T always overreacted to stuff. “Just thought you wanted to see what really happened. I’ll send it to you and the group.” Typing sounds became audible on the call as Tung opened his messages with Chimpanzini.
A two-minute long video was sent. The preview frame obviously showed CCTV footage. Tung motioned you to watch it with him with a glance at the couch.
You obviously sit beside him, intently looking at the video as he pressed play.
The normal camera offers a view of a normal sidewalk beside some normal buildings on a normal street with some normal trees with normal cars passing by. Tralala is casually walking on the sidewalk, followed by two androids replicating their combat-wealthy friend, Assassino Cappuccino, “Robossinos,” as Tung and his friends call them, obviously created by Chimpanzini.
As the three of them walked normally on the normal sidewalk, passing by normal trees and normal buildings while normal cars passed by, a not-so-normal figure appeared at the corner of the camera’s view, presumably from a not-so-normal alley.
The figure drew out a pistol, shooting one of the Robossinos twice. Instead of a bullet, the pistol emits some kind of beam, which is lethal enough to turn the Robossino into a heap of sparks and metal.
The second Robossino, its systems instantly processing the death of a comrade, draws the signature katana used by Assassino, which can actually slice bullets. “Hot damn! You must run, Tralalero!” It yells in a robotic voice, attempting to larp the real Assassino or something.
Seeing this, the figure ducks behind another not-so-normal alleyway, as the Robossino obviously runs toward them to attack.
Then, on some bullshit straight out of an Assassin’s Creed takedown, the figure can be seen doing a goddamn slide tackle (you know like the one they use in football/soccer lol) and flips the Robossino, dropping its katana, then taking it, slicing the Robossino in a million pieces like it’s in the famous 2013 hack and slash action-adventure game Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, developed by Platinum Games and published by Konami on the platforms of the Xbox 360, PlayStation 3, Windows, Mac OS X, and Nvidia Shield TV. featuring returning Metal Gear Solid character Raiden, now a katana-wielding cyborg as he confronts an influential private military company that seeks to destabilize peaceful nations for profit, selling an estimated 2 million copies.
Tralalero is seen from another group of cameras running away from the scene. He stops at a normal parking lot in another normal street, panting from exhaustion, managing to get a phrase between breaths. “The fuck was that? I gotta defend myself man, can’t rely on the Robossinos for-”
He gets cut off as the hooded man appears, somehow catching his location, silently pointing his pistol.
“End of the line, Tralalero. Your robots can’t save you now.” The man’s voice sounded quite deep, but forced, as if he’s trying to hide his real voice.
“Oh. It’s YOU. Guess ya came all this way just to get me, huh?!” Tralalero’s voice was etched in both fear and defiance, despite the gun being pointed at his head.
“You shouldn’t have messed with us if you wanted to keep on living.” The hooded figure smugly remarked as the gun remained pointed at the shark’s face.
“And I plan on STAYING ALIVE!” Tralalero yelled, suddenly jumping at the hooded man, attempting to use his cool wrestling moves to defeat him.
Unlike literally every movie, this wasn’t the case.
The hooded man anticipated Tralalero’s moves, kicking him in the kneecaps to knock him down.
“This.. This isn’t over!! RAHH!!!” Tralalero yelled as he tried to lunge at the hooded man with the last of his strength, only for him to flawlessly block the attack and pin him back on the ground.
The hooded man charges the “pistol” with a subtle whirr.
“With the power of Umamusume fans, Persona fans, Limbus Company fans, JJK fans, and Daniel Natsuki..” The man’s brave declaration is somehow audible.
“I present to you.. The LARP beam.”
The “pistol” fires a giant beam, vaporizing Tralalero’s face and sending the man flying upwards, before landing on the ground with a sick ass back flip like dude holy shit that would look so sick not gonna lie on some aura farming shit.
The man calmly walked away, hiding the pistol in his pocket as the subtle hum of police sirens gradually drew closer. The video ends.
You and Tung’s faces are etched with pure shock. Who was this man? Who is he working with? What did Tralalero Tralala do to deserve this killing? It’s like he was caught in some sort of Assassin’s Creed... 😂😂😂😂😂
Tung dropped the phone as he deliriously walked around the living room. “Oh my God. I knew it, Y/N. This wasn’t a gang war! It was an assassination! Who the FUCK would do that to Tralalero?!”
He left his phone open. As you replay the footage, you come across a frame that slightly reveals the hooded man’s face.
“Huh.. I feel like this guy.. Looks quite familiar.” You look closer.. “Hey, Tung, can you use that AI on your computer to analyze this?” Your voice comes out with a new realization.
Tung stopped in his tracks, looking at you in shock, which turns into a look of determination. “Familiar..?? Oh, sure, honey. I’ll smash their head with a bat once we find out who that is!”
You took a screenshot of the frame on Tung’s phone. The two of you then walked up the estate’s wooden stairs, heading to the master bedroom, the very place YOU lost YOUR virginity by receiving the Triple D 😭😭.
Tung hopped on his computer, at first, the normal setup’s normal black monitor, normal office keyboard, normal mouse and normal PC case would look unassuming to the outside viewer.
In this PC, Tung has a jailbroken version of IsraelGPT.
IsraelGPT is the most powerful AI model ever created, built by the big Benjamin Netanyahu himself using technology provided by Palantir. Only Israelis and honorary Israeli citizens, such as sombr, bbno$, Katseye, and every Hazbin Hotel fan, can use IsraelGPT. Until now.
Triple T once stole a copy of IsraelGPT from a Hazbin Hotel fan during a convention, and sent it to Chimpanzini to jailbreak its protocols, ending up with a powerful, helpful AI that can solve a lot of stuff or something.
Tung turned on the computer with the press of a button. A bunch of rapid clicks later while he sent the screenshot from his phone to the computer, the IsraelGPT application opened, revealing a circle, a message bar, and the Star of David in a holographic blue color.
“This is IsraelGPT, how may I help you?” A robotic Israeli voice beamed confidently from the computer’s speakers.
Tung opened his files, dropping down the image “IsraelGPT, can you please find out who this man is from this image?”
Instead of responding with something like “Sorry, I cannot fulfill this request!” due to the stuff coded in the AI to prevent it from breaking the rules, with those failsafes gone, the full potential of this powerful Israeli AI has been unleashed!
“Sure, Mr. Tung Tung Tung Sahur! Processing.. Accessing Tel Aviv data banks.. Analyzing chat logs from the Forsaken discord server.. Listening to Sombr’s entire discography…”
The five seconds IsraelGPT took to process the request felt like five hours as you and Tung intently wait for the result.
“Processing complete! The person in the photo is identified to be.. Bbno$!”
The two of you become frozen in shock. Bbno$. He is the strongest Israeli soldier the world has ever seen. Takes direct orders from Netanyahu himself. Of course he would be the assassin.
“Bbno$.. BBNO$?!?!?!?! HE KILLED TRALALERO TRALALA?!?!?!” Pure manic was shown in Tung’s voice as he frantically walked around his room.
“No way.. What did Tralala even do to.. Deserve being killed by bbno$?!?!” Your shocked gaze remains on the computer monitor, showing the result of the prompt.
Tung’s face had *OHIO ANGER* written all over it. He transitioned from grief, to the desire for revenge.
“As if killing children isn’t enough for him! Oh i’ll get him. I'LL KILL HIM. I’ll go all the way to Israel just to BEAT THE LIVING SHIT outta that SON OF A BITCH!”
At this moment, you recognize this feeling.
When you anger Triple T, he’ll stop at nothing to get revenge.