The Italian Job [Open]

[Andrew Shedim]

“Wake up!” a swift kick to the face stirred the Killer. “Up you piece of ****, NOW!” another kick causing Drew to cough up a mouthful of blood. It took effort just to crawl to his hands and knees, the room around him was spinning, the soft buzz that comes with shattered eardrums ringing in his head, his entire body feeling as though he had been crushed by one of those large trucks that smooth fresh pavement. The concrete beneath him was cold and damp and he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten here. He could feel, with his tongue, that his fangs as well as several other teeth were missing as he coughed up even more blood.

With a loud groan he fell against the freezing cold wall, his torn jeans and blood stained shirt telling him he had obviously been in a rather messy fight but he was trying hard to remember what had happened and where he was. The last thing he remembered was leaving Wonderland to meet up with a connection he had at the docks, nothing more. Through the limited vision his swollen eyes allowed he could see two men standing before him, dressed in solid black suits, polished black shoes and he was certain they were staring behind their sunglasses like some knock off spooks from the CIA. He made a futile attempt to stand but the surge of pain instantly causing him to again collapse against the wall. The pain in his chest telling him several, if not all, of his ribs were broken.
For a moment he thought he could hear voices from other rooms but he quickly pushed that aside. “What...where the **** am I?” even his voice was weak.

“You’re exactly where you need to be boy.” One of the sharp dressed men approached him quickly, seizing his torn shirt and lifting him easily, his blood staining the man's suit as he pinned the gangster against the wall with a painful elbow “you knew walking away was never going to be easy you piece of ****, you’ve been quite loud with your actions, and you’ve shown nothing but disrespect”
But the man’s words were cut short by a defiant laughter. “Was wondering when you lazy *** motherfuckers would actually grow some balls and do something.” Ever since he had cut his ties with Carlo Fachiano, Drew had known he would have problems with the Lionelli but the lack of attention over the months had almost made him think nothing would ever happen. He had gotten quite comfortable in his drug dealing, enjoying the extra cash instead of having to pay his former bosses just to do his own business.

A jaw shattering punch had shut the gangster’s mouth with ease, spitting another round of blood and another tooth. If he was going to be beaten or killed he was determined to make it as hard and annoying as possible. He forced himself to smirk, his lips busted, his eyes blackened, his face caked in blood but he was not going to bow down.
“C’mon *****” he gasped, the pain in his ribs intense “my wife hits harder than that during foreplay. Thought you guys” a punch delivered to his stomach, laughing quietly “thought you guys are supposed to be badasses. Put some muscle into it.”

The hand that gripped and squeezed his throat felt like he was about to be crushed, the sharp dressed enforcer brought his face close enough that Drew could smell the coppery aroma of blood “you’ve always been a weak little ****. You think we don’t notice you crawling around the streets like some goddamn little rat?” Drew felt the stone crack as he was forced harder against the wall. “You think you have it made don’t you boy, selling your dope in that comfortable little club your woman allows you infest. Our eyes see everything that happens in this city and our ears hear every word spoken. Don’t let your ego think we only want you, you’re just an ant we need crushed.”

The Killer fell to his knees when he was released, he wanted to put a bullet between the man’s eyes, he wanted to rip into the Italian enforcer with his claws and teeth, tear him limb from limb but his body was broken. He had no energy to summon any power at his disposal, he barely had the energy to lift his head, staring hard into the black framed glasses. Blood involuntarily spilling from his mouth “I” he spit his blood on the shiny black shoes “I’m going to kill you.” He laughed as best as he could “this city will see you all dead” he lifted his right hand, shaking a finger tauntingly “but you, you are mine.”
The man stepped forward, crushing the gangster’s hand beneath his blood stained shoe “shut the **** up!” Bringing his foot down hard on Drew’s neck, crushing his face into the moist pavement, bringing darkness as he lost consciousness.

[Satine]

The Wonderland Bar order was all wrong. Satine glanced down at the papers in her hand and tried to find out what listed the invoice receipt was close to what she expected to be ordered. The box beneath her had an assortment of items within. None of which she recognized nor expected to see. The DVD’s were all wrong when she pulled the stack out and watched the titles change as quickly as her hands were able to shuffle through them. There was a rise of irritation boiling up as she reached in the shipping box and pulled out lawn signs with their complimentary wooden stakes fastened to the the backs of each. In bold bright letters she could have blind and still made out the message. “HAPPY RETIREMENT!”

“P-E-R-C-Y!”

The necromancer’s voice was loud enough that she had to clear her voice after yelling out the red latex wonder man's name. He was a club fixture and a personal assistant of sorts. Generally the man was able to get the weekly order done in his sleep which more often than not was at one of the bars after his shift ended. Percy was a bit of a lush but damned if he wasn’t dependable. Give him a full bottle and accept the blow torch he carried like it was a security blanket and all was good. Outside those particular points and it was hard to miss he had a heart of gold. That was a bonus because she sure as hell didn’t.

“P-E-R-C-Y!” The second call for the man to come front and center was one more than she was used to having to send out. “I swear if I have to…”

Sounds of squeaking increased quickly and she dropped the signs in time to find him with a cloth in hand and apparently dusting or polishing the red full body suit that encased him like a blood red sausage head to toe. Her silver orbs followed the movement of the hand with the rag working in a circular motion up to his chest. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer and discovered small beads of water peppering him. It wasn’t raining out so what was he was up to could only be a couple things.

“Yes, boss lady?”

Percy announced as he twirled the cloth until it unfolded several times from the motion and became more than enough for him to take into each outstretched hand. Once he got the rhythm of going of back and forth the towel successfully moved across the red latex covering his back with random squeaks as it did.

“I could hear you all the way upstairs.” He switched the towel up so that it was in one hand in front of his oversized hard as an army helmet cup over his crotch and the other hand positioned behind his *** already pulling the towel back and forth once again to dry whatever was there. “I was taking a shower.”

“What in the hell?” Satine was blinking waiting for the eccentric human to reveal some point she missed that would have what he was doing make some sense. “You shower without that outfit, right?”

A loud snap of the towel in the air nearly had her jump as the length twirled around and was quickly twisted up into a strip of material that seeped water the more he tightened each end with a firm twist.

“Why?”

He tossed the towel into the bar towel basket and reached under the bar for something and soon revealed a small hand size squirt bottle of what appeared to be some sort of liquid product she was not aware existed under Wonderland’s bar. He lifted one arm and started squeezing the gun of the bottle. A mist sparkled in the air before adhering to the latex it obviously was intended for. In gentle appreciative circles his red latex covered fingers worked the liquid into the latex where perhaps some pit hair should be present underneath it all.

Well, except for Percy of course. He was hairless. At least that is what he claimed. She certainly never thought to ask for proof. Something about a grease fire and working the fryer at a twenty four hour chicken place nearly cost him his chest and bits. Latex was therapeutic and he refused to part with it.

“What is that?” Satine stepped in closer and reached her petite pale hand to the taller man’s wrist.
“Silicone lubricant.” He nodded matter of fact as he extended his hand and the bottle for proof. “It is my lotion.”
“If that is flammable you need to take your rub down outside.” She released his wrist and tapped one of her mary jane stilettos at the box next to her feet. “Who the hell ordered this stuff?”
“Uhmm…” The spray bottle was brought down to one knee as his other began to rummage through the odd items. “We are going to do yoga for aging joints here?”
“No!” Her fingers yanked the dvd from his hand as soon as he stood upright to inspect it. “We are not! Did you do the order?”
“No. I told you I had a wedding to go to.”

The spray bottle was squeezed again. While his hands swirled around on his chest setting a shine that had the latex looking flawless in contrast with the dull appearance of the rest Satine watched the path of his hand. She shrugged. The raven haired woman would agree the suit in general could use equal treatment.

“So, who did?”
“I did.”

The scent of the chemical in Percy’s bottle was soon combined with the scent of weed. Furious George, as the head shop manager he called himself, was as hard to miss when he entered a room. As hard as it as it would be to walk through a cannabis farm at high noon on a hot moist day. Just was against all laws of reason and so was The George himself. His brain was stuck somewhere back in the ‘60’s where he took so many trips that he was the first to admit he couldn’t ever fully return.

“Happy Retirement?” Satine lifted one of the signs up for a visual reference. “Would be ordered because?”
“Great deal. Discontinued item and bet they will sell like hot cakes.”

The nearly seventy year old guy could pass for a silver bearded inked up Santa Claus or Dead groupie that was left behind when the bus blazed trails leaving his higher the the sky *** behind. George gave a nod and was bold enough to pull the sign from Satine’s hand and give it a twirl looking it over for some possible imperfections that in the end were not to be found. Percy’s mist down was put on hold while he raised a brow and watched the interaction between the two. George had a way with Satine that boggled his mind. He was too fond of his blow torch to try pushing her buttons. Clearly ordering the wrong supplies was one way to do it.

“Not a damn thing wrong them either.” He tossed the sign back into the box. “Next month they will have a thirty percent off sale on ankle massagers which really come in handy. I know I could use one.”
“You are going to need more than an ankle massager if you keep ordering **** we don’t need, FG.”

Satine scratched the back of her head because her hand was in motion to do something as soon as the ripples of unpredictable rage came to her. It was instant and it started at her toes and ricocheted all the way up her spine. Percy tucked the spray bottle behind him while his hand locked at the small of his back like he was some sort of soldier taking position. **** was about to get real intense and he nearly could feel it forming in the air. PTSD was the latex lovers best friend when it came to saving his nearly fried *** from the unexpected.

It had nothing to do with Furious George’s ordering supplies on a whim or whatever possessed him to hit the clearance section of the supply catalog. She could feel the rise of something she knew she wouldn’t be able to control once it started. George was the first head to dart around enough that his roughly aging body turned to go with it. The doors of the club busted open so hard and fast that it sounded like whatever they were attached to was as good as gone.

“S-A-T…”The scent of blood was so strong that she felt the burn of her gums stretching over her fangs and finally giving up and setting them free. The bloody and badly beaten wall of a man stumbled in and nearly dropped to the floor. “They got him. They finally got their ******* hands on us and they kept him.” His massive hand wiped the color of the warm blood across the back of his hand as he attempted to inhale whatever it was that plugged up his nose. A strained hacking sound came from his chest and mouth then the blood clot landed with an unsavory splat on the floor between their feet.

“Get the car.” Her voice was a hiss over the clicks of her shoes as she headed for the elevator. “Juice, FG let’s load up.” Her fingertip punched the button to send the black lift upward. “I have had enough of their ****.”
“I tried, boss lady.” Juice pulled out a gray silk handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket. “I did…” He sounded like a beat up horn honking as he blew into the material. “Jesus. What if they really kill him? They said they were going to. He isn’t the only one in there either.” The doors slid open and his bloody hand slapped at the silver frame to prevent anyone from getting a surprise nudge. “I don’t think this is something FG should be going to check out. Just sayin’ it is…”
“Sayin’ what, man?” Furious George planted his hands on his rather ample aged hips and stood planted solid where he was looking up at the too tall Juice. “I am the old ***** he calls me? Well, guess what son, my *** isn’t bloody, black and blue waiting for my boss to go back and thump the fuckers in the head who weren’t playing nice like they were supposed to.”
“Look old man you keep talking like that and I hear hips are the most common break on old fuckers like you. You dig?” Juice moved his hand off the door like he was getting ready to use it.
“Both of you get into the weapons room. Grab everything we will need, Juice. Pack for war.” As she handed out the order her hand curled around the custom crafted ax and pulled it towards her sending it into spin until her grip was tight. "Bring Bugsy's bags. You know what he will expect in them."

[Andrew Shedim]

His fists buried in the moist pavement as his eyes slowly opened. Picking himself up off the ground and finding himself alone in the room he began to pace slowly, his anger rising by the second. After a few minutes of silence the door opened, Drew stopping to stare as the familiar enforcer stepped back into the room, tossing him a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. “Wondered when you’d get back ya fat *****” he hissed through busted lips, the enforcer offering no response. Grabbing the cigarettes and lighting one instantly he resumed his pacing “so what the ****, you gonna kill me or just here to talk more ****?’

The enforcer slowly made his way back to the table and took a seat, gesturing for the gangster to do the same. Drew shook his head “I’m fine.” Tapping a few papers on the table the enforcer finally raised his eyes, looking at the gangster with a cold scowl on his face “Andrew Wayne Krepsi” “Shedim, the name’s Shedim now” he interjected but the enforcer paid him no attention “you have been accused and convicted of abandonment of your duties and you are sentenced to execution.” The man sat the folder aside, Drew pausing where he stood, a sarcastic grin creasing his lips “you gonna be the ***** that tries it? Cause I dare you ya punk *** little ****!”

The Killer had known from the moment he walked away from the Lionelli that this day would come. After he had severed from Carlo and gone to the castle to officially declare his independence he knew he had put not only his life on the line but that of his wife, Satine; the only person that was now giving him strength. He knew she would be stubborn enough, once Juice had told her what had happened that she would be coming for him, though he prayed she would stay away, there was no way at this moment with his powers sapped, his body battered and weakened, and with no weapons that he would not be able to protect her, not that she needed his protection, it was more a role he placed upon himself.

With the time he had been left to his own thoughts his memories had slowly come back to him. He and Juice had gotten the message that his weekly shipment of coke would be arriving soon so the two of them had gone to the docks to pick everything up. When they had arrived, expecting to see that familiar mini yacht that brought the goods, they were instead met by three black mercedes and six well dressed Lionelli soldiers. “Boss! Let’s get the **** out of here now!” the man had begged “I’ve dodged these motherfuckers long enough Mike, just stay here.” The Killer had stepped out of the car, his gun already drawn, ready to go down but determined to take as many of them with him as he could. But the docks would see no epic gun battle this night. He was able to shoot one mobsters in the chest before he was quickly overwhelmed, his head repeatedly smashed against his Crown Victoria, a relentless flood of feet and fists crashing over his entire body. One of the men had even pulled Juice, another man who had walked away from the crime family to follow his boss in his own ventures, and gave him an *** beating. Drew was tossed unceremoniously into the back of one of the cars but that is where his memory ended, the blood loss and pain had caused the gangster to pass out.

“You will now come with us” the enforcer had risen, quickly seizing Drew by the back of his neck “time for your *** to die you rat motherfucking ********.” If Drew had any strength left he would have snapped the man’s arm and ripped his throat out but his body forced him to comply. As they neared the door his ears cause a rather pleasing sound. He had heard a door below them crash open, followed by screams and gunshots. She had come for him, he knew it, whenever Satine was close to him he could feel her and he could not be more grateful to feel that sensation now. The Killer laughed despite the pain it brought to his ribs “sounds like it’s your boys going down first ***** boy.” The enforcer threw him hard against the wall, closing the door and drawing his gun. Drew, through panted words reminded his captor “I’m going to kill you in about three minutes, tick tock ***********.”

[Satine]

“I need some ammo, Meathead.” The silver bearded septuagenarian in the front passenger's seat announced while his weathered hands pulled out an empty clip and tossed it over his shoulder to land in Juice Box’s lap. “Feel free to fill it.”
“Boss Lady…” He picked up the clip and thumbed the cool metal surface while looking to Satine. “I wish you would reconsider bringing Cotton Balls with. He is usually in bed by now.”
“I wish the two of you would quit the complaining. I feel like every god damned time I get into this car with you two that one of you needs to be stored in the trunk so I can think straight.” Satine pulled the clip from Juice’s hand and started loading it. “Really…” She snapped as she tossed the full clip back in the front. “Who the **** cares how old he is? He is the first one out of the door when **** goes down and is ready to back up Bugsy even after all the hell he gets from you two.” Her eyes pinned hard on Juice. “Don’t bite the hand that could end up saving your ***. Got it? Last I checked the numbers in our recruiting office we were not holding enough members to play handball let alone ready to go to war.”
“Got it.” Juice didn’t like it but he heard her loud and clear.
“When we get there where do you want me to park?” Percy chimed in while guiding the car around the corner bringing them into Gullsborough.
“Well, if you drive right up to the front of the place I hear they will come out and greet us.” Furious George didn’t wait for a response from the guy at the wheel. “Just toss the first one coming at the car your keys, your blowtorch and your *** because we are all fucked if you head for it like your are about to order fries and a shake to go.” FG shook his red bandana topped forehead then leaned to look back at Satine. “And these idiots think I should be in bed sleeping. No worries, Princess, I will get you and Prince Alarming out of the castle.”
“Seriously, Old Fart, **** up in there and get Boss Lady hurt I will hook you up and dry you out next to the Boss’s framed Yankee’s jersey.” Juice leaned forward and tapped Percy’s shoulder with a handgun. “And you take this, Little Red Riding Hood. Your latex isn’t going to stop bullets. Might as well be shooting them instead.”
“Do you have one of those gold, flashy numbers? I am not a fan of black and red. It is always overplayed. Gold however…” As soon as Percy reached back and nudged it away he was cut off by the swat to the side of his head from Juice’s rather large open hand. “...Or black is fine. Thanks.”

Satine pulled out a handgun and a master blade from the weapons bag that Juice quickly took over and started rummaging through. Her hips shifted and her fingers slid the back up weapons in place at her thigh and the other between the waistband of her snug pencil skirt and the v- neck top. The black mid ‘50’s Crown Victoria rolled closer to the castle of sorts that the Lionelli had for the most part holed up in. When it finally came as close as it could be without detection Percy set it in park.

“Going in there is not going to be pulled off without detection.” Juice adjusted his suit jacket which did nothing to change the fact it still looked like a mess. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and patted at the dark brown spots that served as bloody proof his last trip in was no picnic. When it was ineffective he tucked the silk back into his front breast pocket. “There aren’t as many of them as there used to be but the ones that still in there are in it for the last drop of blood. Especially Andrew Shedim’s.”

Satine looks at the faces in the front seat as they turn to look at Juice who is sitting next to her. She knew what she was getting into but the two warm bodies she was staring at were clueless. Wars between countries was one thing, when it was between vampires and those humans that were smooth enough to tap into supernatural powers while still keeping their pulse was a whole other ball game. This situation wasn’t exactly ideal to take them into and train them as they went along. Not at all.

“I will fry those ***********’s and make them my S’mores!” Percy lifted up his blowtorch in commitment to his cause. “Hell yeah!”
“They will take your squeaking *** and rip out your heart.” Juice rolled his eyes and opened up the passenger door next to him sending out a long right leg. “Swear to god, Boss Lady, we are so fucked that I can feel it if we haul these two in with us. They won’t make it out.” Once Juice was standing tall next to the side of car he leaned down to look equally at the passengers still sitting inside. “You know it and I know it. You are feeding them to the wolves, M’Lady.”

Satine felt the weight of Juice’s words sink in. The guy was right. They wouldn’t last two minutes inside. Percy would stand out like a sore thumb or at the very least be a walking billboard leading the Lionelli to believe the circus just rolled in. Furious George was a whole other issue. She didn’t waste time guessing what in the hell they would think about the ‘60’s relic walking in with a weapon in his hand. He would likely last a little longer but once they saw her everything was going to hell fast and well...furious. That meant Percy and FG would be seeing **** they missed running out when Micah last stopped by for a visit and nearly tore the club down. Her silver eyes lifted up to meet Juice’s. Her petite shoulders rolled slowly back and her head shook side to side. It was going down one way or another. No one touched her husband. The rage was already boiling and the sight of Juice’s bruised up mug reminded her that Bugsy was inside and likely ten times worse off. They would kill him. There was no question in her mind.

“You feeling strong enough to take the front?” Her door opened while she waited for an answer. The squeak of Percy’s latex palm releasing the handle signaled she might as well take one step closer to the night's festivities. “I can do the outside. I just need some distraction to make my move.” The door closed softly as she stepped around the front of the car and eyed Furious George. “I want you to get your *** out of there if it gets out of hand. I am pretty sure they have him up in the room that all their pinatas get taken to be whacked at.” She glanced back at Percy. “I don’t care how much you want to play with your blow torch. These guys shoot and devour. I don’t need to candy coat it. They would L-O-V-E you both. I need you out and in one piece once you do your part. Have the car ready because we aren’t the only one with a set of wheels.” She stepped in closer to Juice leaving the other two to whisper back and forth. “I need the doors taken down. You do that and let them know you are around. That will draw them out your direction and give me time to get to him. If it gets bad you take off with the guys and get back to the club. You know the drill from there.”

Without anything further said Satine pops the trunk and nods for Juice to grab the last of what is needed. Once he does she pushes it closed and starts the hike of four towards the massive stone fortress that has been one place she preferred to not visit. The blood was bad, the history was worse and the welcome volatile when she did arrive. A side glimpse upward at Juice and the scent of blood flowing between had her insides turning. She was going in hungry and angry. The two combined made for a very irritable necromancer plagued with more curses than she could handle.

“Give him this if you see him first.” Satine tossed a gun to Juice as she split from the three and headed towards the back.
“Sure thing.” He had the gun tucking into his left pocket as his boss disappeared into the darkness.
“Alright.” Furious George was already channeling his version of Rambo revisited. His rough, battle worn fingers nudged the bandana on his forehead up a little higher that it had been sitting. “I will go in first. See if I can entertain those who are a little bored and looking for a good deal. I likely have seen a few of these chumps and done business with them outside their playhouse.”
“Yeah, but like Boss Lady said you both better be like Forrest Gump if you hear me say so.” Juice was mere feet from the door.
“I will head to the left and see if I can get up without too much trouble.” Percy sounded rather calm while he held the blowtorch in the tight grip of his left hand. “Need some extra heat just say it and I will start a few fires.” His latex covered head bobbed slowly until Juice stepped in closer and glared down at him. “Bullets. I will use this.” The gun in his right hand waved as a reminder. “I can handle it!”

Satine ignored the noises of bullets and the random screams that could be the ones she counted on in the inside doing their jobs. Her body moved quietly like the spider she might as well been with the way she was crawling upward. The place was always rolling with gunfire, violence and the usual battles that had been increasing all over the city. The Lionelli once proved to be a force that no one was too eager to mess with. Carlo Fachiano brought Bugsy into it, groomed him into being within its ranks from the ground up. Their presence soon lost its power as those they tried to control lost their tolerance and pushed back. Andrew left when the time was right. There was nothing left but sliding downhill with the rest of them. Lionelle didn’t stand a chance in the city and the fact she was finding it as easy as it currently was to ascend the exterior of the building without notice was proof.

Once she reached the top she swung both legs over the parapet and quickly dropped to her feet. She stood up and wasted no time standing still. The raven haired necromancer started moving in light clicks of her heels across the open space towards the rooftop hatch. All she had to do was clear her way inside through that and she was in. With the extending hand she leaned forward. As she took hold of the handle the hatch lifted before she could pull. It was then that she came eye to eye with a face that was just as surprised to see her standing on the roof as she was to see him opening the hatch that still in her hand.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” The dusty mopped head was joined by a long arm pushing hard to send the hatch open and flat.
“Waiting for you, handsome.”

With the release of the handle her hand immediately went for the man’s collar of his jacket and yanked him up and out of the small space he was crowding. Her head went forward crashing her forehead against the man’s skull. While the sound of incoherent grunts erupted she pulled the gun from the back of her waist and pressed it between the set of uneven pupils rolling up and down like windows of a slot machine trying to make up its final choices. A crimson tipped finger curled and pulled the trigger sending the backspray of blood over her face. The hold of the collar supporting the dead weight loosened and a loud thud echoed at her feet.

“Next.” She announced while licking her lips.

[Andrew Shedim]

From where he stood it sounded like the gangster was missing one hell of a party, a party the brutish enforcer that had been keeping his eyes on Drew had obviously heard as well. A quick flick of the lock had caused the Killer to smirk “don’t tell me you’re getting nervous” he whispered, his bloodied body leaning against the wall. “Shut the **** up” the enforcer hissed back through clenched teeth. Though feeling his wife’s presence had caused a slight bit of a rejuvenation, the Killer slid down to a seated position, nothing was going to ease the pain he felt in his entire body.

The gun fire could be heard ringing throughout the chambers of the castle, he could only picture Satine having the time of her life, the infamous Chester in her hands, cleaving through everything that stood in her path. He slowly lifted his head as the faint echo of a voice he did not expect to hear caught his attention “why are we not just burning this whole thing down!” Drew couldn’t help but shake his head, she had actually brought Percy, that latex clad pyromaniac here? “Will you PLEASE just follow instructions for once in your life!” ah Juice, so there was hope.

At least they were getting closer, the doors he heard being kicked in were not far from where he now sat. Creeping closer to the enforcer that shared the room with him, Drew knew he was just biding his time and needed that one right moment to make a move. “Must be this one” the voice was right outside the door. Wiping the blood from his face, Drew got to his feet as quietly as he could, standing just a few feet from the man that was too focused on the door to pay him any attention. When the door was kicked open and the enforcer raised his gun, the gangster grabbed the man’s hair and with as much strength as he could summon he smashed the man’s head hard into the wall, sending him to the ground. “Here boss!” Juice tossing him a gun.

Driving a knee between the enforcer’s shoulder Drew leaned in, his voice full of the anger that had been building up for days. “Believe I made you a promise” he growled before placing two shots into the back of the skull, finally covering his face in blood that wasn’t his own, quickly turning to face the two men “where the **** is my wife?”

[Satine]

“I told you he is the wind bag that fucked over my cousin two weeks ago. Sold him some sort of **** and told him it would make him feel like flying.”

The initiate’s hand slapped firmly on Furious George’s chest. It quickly curled at the fingertips to gather up enough material that his undershorts crept up with the shirt tucked tightly in the front. FG felt like ‘rack ‘em up’ was starting to apply until the waistband gave up and the shirt was set free to rise with the rough pull.

“Isn’t that right, Old Man?” A slam against the wall sent Furious George’s upper fixture rattling behind his lips. “Know what happened?” The bushy mustached thug shook FG’s well aged meat cage forward then back against the wall once again. “The stupid **** actually tried it. Good thing my aunt only lives on the second floor in Ivy Apartments.” The sound of a gun firing barely pulled his attention away from the head shop owner.
“He okay, man?” The lanky, grease headed fellow initiate beside them ignored the shots fired and showed more interest in narrowing down a death stare at Furious George still pressed against the wall.
“Yeah, he will be fine.” He released the material in his grip and gave a stinging slap to FG’s left cheek. “He won’t be skating or dancing anytime soon with two broken ankles and a sprained wrist. It will keep his punk *** inside and out of trouble. My aunt has had enough to deal with.”
“Well, son…” Furious George did the casual motion of straightening out his ruffled clothing without stepping away from the wall to do it. “I am glad I could help you out. Now if you don’t mind I have to get back to the shop.”
“Not so fast, Gramps.” A growl erupted from the one who had a habit of grabbing whomever he happened to be talking to rather roughly. “Broken ankles is the kind of help that deserves to be repaid. Not every night someone cares enough to be a good samaritan like that.”
“Yeah, that is right.” The slick stick twitching next to the Lionelli initiate bounced in agreement.
“Stop by the shop and will give you boys a good deal then. I am always happy to help.” Furious George stepped free of the lighter than the last grip on his out of shape and stretched shirt. “Can even see if I can scare up one of those rideable wheelchair scooters for the cousin to get around if you bring him along.”

The ominous clicking sound of a trigger sent a bolt of instant fear flowing through the silver bearded body. Each step he took he thought of every reason he did enough to warrant the bullet that was aiming right for him. His life was like a spinning kaleidoscope that was moving so fast that the mental images were a blur. He looked down at his hand that was empty while he continued to step. There wasn't much time left but new he could fill it if he reach down and pulled out the gun he recklessly had in his waistband at his right hip. Eyes set forward at the exit that was so close in front of him, yet so far. This was going to be it. The boss lady was right, Meathead was right. They all were except the Bossman. He was still dead wrong. Furious George was no one's old *****. Slow steps got him closer to the door like was letting the two have their moment before doing him in. In one planned stellar moment he pulled out the weapon with the ease he had in his twenties on the foreign battle field in a long over war and turned to take aim.

“That’s right. Turn around nice and slow.” The initiate hissed raising his gun to point right at FG’s back.
“Now boys, you don’t seem to understand.”

FG spun around and took aim. As he did he felt the rush of cool, nearly freezing air flow over him like someone opened the door to the South Pole and let it in. The force of what he could not see with his back turned sent him face first to the broken stone beneath his body. His head bounced back with the impact of his chest and then weight of his head dropped to the hard surface knocking him out.

Satine’s face was a portrait of lethal oversized fangs connected to a set of jaws that looked entirely out of place. Crimson dipped fingernails reached out to the flesh on the neck of the initiate and squeezed as tight as she could summon the strength to do. While the body kicked in her hold she pulled out Chester and twirled it in her hand.

“Look, *****, you can have him. I am not interested in stealing your happy meal.” The walking stick stumbled back and landed on his *** and started making quick use of his hands behind him to backpedal in an attempt to stand back up. “I don’t even know the guy!”

As soon as the guy started making a run for it Chester cleaved through the flailing initiate in her hands. Blood showered into an arch as the custom ax dropped down from the full swing and a thud was left by the grabby Lionelli’s lifeless body.

“Where do you think you are going?” A swirl of silver spun around her and Chester landed over her shoulder where it always rested in between it’s use. “We just started playing.”

A groan echoed at Satine’s feet and silver orbs bounced down to discover FG coming around. She looked to the body racing around a corner and back to the guy that would not back down if she asked him to. He was safer outside. Her hand curled at his collar and got him to his feet.

“I need you to get the hell out of here and get the car. Keep the engine running.” Satine pressed her hand to his shoulder to steer his wobbling body around and pointed towards the exit to the downstairs. “You are the only one who can get to it fast enough.”
“To the chopper!” Furious George started trucking his slow moving *** towards the door he was pointed to and disappeared through the darkness.

Satine in all her bloody glory twirled the cherished weapon in her hand and started in the direction where the stickman had hoped to find an escape of his own. While the back of her hand wiped her face she entered the nearly dark room where she could smell fear so thick that she could swear she tasted it. A sweep of her tongue over her blood coated lips gave her the boost she needed. Again Chester was dancing in the air with her expert handling sending small flashes of silver warning as the clicks of her heels announced she was in the room.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” She hissed. "I haven't tasted you yet."