“Hey, boss, we rounded them all up and they’re in the other room.”
The wolf took a long drag from his cigar and then exhaled, watching the small cloud of smoke rise upward into the cold winter air. Doing work in the warehouse district felt like playing in the jungle; cartels loved big places like this for their drug farms and he had no interest in being accused of trespassing or trying to steal. “Johnny… For the last time, I’m not your damn boss. So stop calling me that. I’m the same Dan I’ve always been.”
“S-sorry…” Johnny frowned, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just, I’ve g-”
“Stop making excuses. Let’s get to work before we attract unwanted attention.” Dan stepped past the human and walked into the warehouse where the three thieves he’d been hunting down were waiting, tied up and ready for his special skills to come into play.
“… Yeah.” Johnny looked up at the cloudy sky for a few moments, thinking about something. “I guess some things never change,” he said to himself, sighing and turning around to follow Dan back inside.
Dan took a good look at the three thieves tied to the chairs before him. They were all wearing ragged outfits covered in mud and grime, and they each looked rather pathetic. “Oscar, you’re joking, right? These guys look like they couldn’t steal a hot meal. Are you sure these are the ones we want?”
“Have my sources ever lied, Dan?” the grey fox replied, his deep, husky voice sounding even more gravelly than normal. His eyes narrowed as if daring the younger canine to question him or his methods of information retrieval.
Dan sighed, flattening his ears in annoyance. If he argued, that would just be getting into an argument with the old man, and that was just another thing he’d rather not deal with. It was just as hard to dodge Oscar’s angry words as it was to dodge bullets. Besides, as hard as it was to squeeze information, when it came through it was rarely incorrect. He was a damn fine worker, and one Dan knew the value of. “No, they haven’t.”
He turned to the three humans and took a step forward, his face illuminated in the spotlight they’d brought in. A deep scar ran down the right side of his face, and had he been carrying a scythe, his dark look could have passed him for Death itself. He wore a pair of near-black jeans with a black hoodie as a shirt, and the dark outfit contrasted against the glow from the overhead light and the cigar he was puffing on. “Alright, you damn weasels. Listen. I’m going to ask a question, and if I don’t get an answer, well... Let’s just say it’s in good interest of your health to answer me the first time I ask. Which one of you is Shadelaw?”
He didn’t expect an answer, and he wasn’t getting one. Dan had a reputation in the mob, but he was a relatively unknown figure outside of the city. He allowed a few seconds of silence to pass before continuing. “Alright. So here’s how this is going to work. My boss, Ramone? He was nice enough to give me some tools, and I’ll show you them one by one until you talk. The longer you wait, Shadelaw, the less motor capabilities you’ll have when I’m done, and we might just have to kill you after all. Tomas, uh… bring out number twelve, please.”
The young latino handed the wolf a small black bag, which he placed on a table in plain sight. He made sure to unzip it slowly as he explained. “Now, I assume you know some basic science. When things get hot, the molecules get farther apart, right? So tearing and dismembering becomes a lot easier when things are hot.”
He held up a handheld buzzsaw and a blowtorch, a dark smile making its way onto its lips and showing off his mouthful of fangs. “I’ll demonstrate with your pinkies.” The buzzsaw slowly began to whir to life as he flicked a switch and started the bowtorch’s flame. He approached the first man on the left, whose forehead was thick with sweat and whose eyes were filled with a great look of fear. Dan leaned forward and-
“Wait.”
The air fell silent as both instruments stopped. Slowly, Dan turned to the man on the far right, his smile no less triumphant or dark than it had been.
“Well, well, well… Nice to meet you, Shadelaw.”
Rule of the Mob By BadHandedBandit
Page PAGE 1 of NUMPAGES 2 Gay Male, Macrophilia
