More importantly, the dude who pulled the gun on us was pointing it at Ibarra who was still holding Missy's nose ring and what was left of her nose, but the shit was quickly shot down when I came up behind him without him noticing. Funnily enough, the guy still had the safety on his pistol but despite all that, the motherfucker still deserved a short beating just for pointing a gun at each of us.
So yeah, let's just say that this guy named "Mistah"—ironic/moronic, I know— was now tied up and looking like a raccoon or an almost ripe banana from his bruises.
In addition, the rest of his group with Richard could only shake their heads and look down in shame at what just happened because that shit doesn't fly anywhere else. If they were complete strangers—which they kind of were—they'd be part of the pile we were burning already.
Richard tried to approach me, "I'm really sorry, sir— He's—"
"A dumbass? Yeah, he is."
"It's just—"