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unforthIt was many hours later when I arrived, still grim faced and perfectly even tempered, at my destination. A big city, a small bar, a major center of operation even now, I knew, despite the number of its favorite patrons that were now otherwise detained. Old habits die hard, and those who had escaped had seen no need to switch their favorite haunt. It wasn’t like they could have fooled the authorities for long if they had switched, and if they weren’t going to gain anything, and they weren’t going to lose anything, then why should they bother changing their routine? No reason, that was the answer.
Someone in here would know who was responsible. I reached under my sear, withdrawing the crossbow I had kept there for so many years without ever needing to use it, and loaded it. I had to convince some people to do what I wanted, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
I opened the door and was met by a wave of palpable silence. They’ve been expecting me. I smiled. “Hey, I’m looking for Stan, can you point me in his direction?” I brandished my crossbow, they all knew my reputation, I’d like to see one of these sons of bitches challenge me. None did, though, and the maitre de, more interested by far in the safety of his establishment, pointed the way. Their response made one thing clear, though. My darling’s death had definitely been a hit, and I was definitely expected here. I wouldn’t be leaving here alive, but I couldn’t make myself care, I’d get done what I needed too, that much was certain.
Stan was sitting in a private dining room in the back of the restaurant, stuffing his face. I hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years, but judging by his girth he had been stuffing his face the whole time, and didn’t appear to have moved even an inch. I couldn’t help but wonder if he could still fit out the front door. I aimed the crossbow at him in a single movement, shooting it into his blubber by way of greeting. He whimpered but didn’t cry out. “You know what I want to know. Don’t make me ask again, Stan.” He licked his fingers, surprisingly unconcerned with his injury, before making any reply.
“If he was stupid enough to let you leave Liberty, then he deserves whatever you give him,” Stan said surprisingly pleasantly. “His names Mace, he lives a few blocks from here – 11th and 23rd, 8G - and he wasn’t supposed to let you live more than 24 hours. This is going to significantly decrease his bonus, I think.” Stan chuckled at his own joke, then pried the crossbow bolt out of his gut. “You are as unpleasant as I remember, though. That’s going to scar you know.”
Someone in here would know who was responsible. I reached under my sear, withdrawing the crossbow I had kept there for so many years without ever needing to use it, and loaded it. I had to convince some people to do what I wanted, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
I opened the door and was met by a wave of palpable silence. They’ve been expecting me. I smiled. “Hey, I’m looking for Stan, can you point me in his direction?” I brandished my crossbow, they all knew my reputation, I’d like to see one of these sons of bitches challenge me. None did, though, and the maitre de, more interested by far in the safety of his establishment, pointed the way. Their response made one thing clear, though. My darling’s death had definitely been a hit, and I was definitely expected here. I wouldn’t be leaving here alive, but I couldn’t make myself care, I’d get done what I needed too, that much was certain.
Stan was sitting in a private dining room in the back of the restaurant, stuffing his face. I hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years, but judging by his girth he had been stuffing his face the whole time, and didn’t appear to have moved even an inch. I couldn’t help but wonder if he could still fit out the front door. I aimed the crossbow at him in a single movement, shooting it into his blubber by way of greeting. He whimpered but didn’t cry out. “You know what I want to know. Don’t make me ask again, Stan.” He licked his fingers, surprisingly unconcerned with his injury, before making any reply.
“If he was stupid enough to let you leave Liberty, then he deserves whatever you give him,” Stan said surprisingly pleasantly. “His names Mace, he lives a few blocks from here – 11th and 23rd, 8G - and he wasn’t supposed to let you live more than 24 hours. This is going to significantly decrease his bonus, I think.” Stan chuckled at his own joke, then pried the crossbow bolt out of his gut. “You are as unpleasant as I remember, though. That’s going to scar you know.”
