Fan Fiction ❯ The Value of Life and Death ❯ 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: HarlequinGirl07 
I kneeled silently before the alter in the cathedral, a rosary clutched tightly in my hand. The light from the moon came in through the stained glass windows casting colorful paintings on the floor, outlining the silhouette of my crew. All four of them stood off to the side, watching me with skeptical eyes. Cleaver was the only one with the actual courage to step forward. He was a tall Germanic man with the type of build that would make a woman drool. His blonde hair was constantly spiked, his eyes were the lightest blue I’d ever seen, he had a chiseled jaw line, and all that sexiness was topped off by a pair thin square glasses that, believe it or not, were actually there because he was near sighted.
He crossed his arms over his arms over his chest then reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. “Anytime now, Fraulein.”
He sounded annoyed so I stood up and fixed my clothes, wrapping my rosary around my wrist. “No patience?” I walked past him down the aisle towards the exit. He and the rest of the group followed.
“I just don’t see the point of you praying. God’s already abandoned us, love.”
As we neared the exit the live in priest blocked our path. He held a gun up to us we stopped. “How did you get in?” He voice was calm, at least to human ears it would have been. If I wasn’t what I was I wouldn’t have seen the tremors moving through him, and I wouldn’t have heard the undertoned rasp and shake in his voice. He was scared shitless.
I put my arms up in defense, something humans did when faced with something they were afraid of. “Take it easy, father, we just came to pray.”
“Actually she came to pray,” Cleaver thumbed at me, “we were dragged along.” The rest of the group snickered and I shot Cleaver a glare.
“I want you out.” The priest said, cocking the gun.
“Okay.” I nodded, trying to keep him calm. If he shot at any of us, I couldn’t be held responsible for what any of us would do. “But you’re blocking the exit, and we can't walk through you. I felt a tug on my hand and looked down to see Patricia looking up at me through irritated brown eyes.
“Take care of this or I will.” She ground out.
I patted her head, my way of letting her know that I would kill her if she tried to order me around again. “You’re frightening the child, father.”
She changed those eyes from adult to child almost as quickly as a blink. “Please sir, I just wanna go home.”
The priest stared at her, slowly lowering his gun. “She’s tranced him.” Cleaver whispered in my ear. The priest moved to one side and let us pass; the minute we were out the door he fell in a dead sleep. Cleaver picked up Patricia like she was a child and spun her around. She laughed like she were care-free and I could feel myself wanting to vomit.
Roslyn came to one side of me, shaking her head. “You do understand that she wants your position, right?” She stared at me with wolf’s eyes, and I t was a bit eerie to see how they glowed in the moonlight.
“I am aware.”
“If she’s really serious about it, there will be a trial. You may have to kill her.”
“I can assure that I don’t give a damn about killing her. To me it would be an honor and a joy.” We both looked back at Patricia smiling happily in Cleaver’s arms. She was our vampire child, though its quire possible she’s older than most of us. A 120 year old soul locked in an 8 year-old’s body doesn’t quite make for sanity. She was unpredictable and edgy, but that calm doll like beauty suggested otherwise. I hated her, and she hated me.
“I believe tonight will be a lovely night.” We all looked back at Malick who was strolling, eyes up at the moon. Malick was a vampire also, we all were, with the exception of Roslyn, but he was different, and was more fragile than we were. His father had been a vampire and his mother hadn’t known until he had been killed in the middle of the night by Vamp hunters. She awoke to a pile of ash and three men proclaiming that the baby inside of her was a demonic presence, and the only way for her to live a happy life was to gut her and sew her back up. She didn’t believe that and escaped. However, when the time came for her to have her pride and joy she saw just what a monster it was. Convinced that something was wrong with him or that he had a degenerate disease, his mother had sold him to science when he was 10. They conducted experiments on him for the longest time. He never speaks of anything that happened to him, but our benefactor told us that one particular experiment was regeneration. They would cut off his body parts and see how long it would take for him to grow it back. Little is known about Malick, but we do know that he keeps a relatively cool head, and he is the only one of us who can walk in the light. I envy him for that.
“How are you feeling tonight, Malick?” Roslyn asked.
He looked at her as though he couldn’t decide if she was talking to him or not. “I’m feeling fine, Madame.” He sketched a fake bow.
It made me laugh because one could never really tell if there was something wrong with him. The only way we were ever sure was when he went in for his weekly checkup. One time he was so close to the brink that if he were put under anymore stress he’d have killed us all.
He looked at me closely and waved his finger. “You’re thinking too hard, E. Just let me be, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know if I have an issue.”
I faked a smile, unsure if that was a good or bad thing.
“So Fraulein, where is our target tonight.” Cleaver asked.
“He’s at a dinner party, as it were. Our orders are to give him the opportunity to pay what he owes…and if he doesn’t have it, which I know he does, we kill him.”
“You make it sound simple.” Roslyn smiled at me.
I smiled back. “It always is.”
Our target was a Mr. Cameron Jones. He was a medium height fat man; a wealthy socialite who had gone bankrupt and borrowed a large sum of money from my benefactor. Mr. Jones had a deadline and even an extension…just to be clear, my benefactor doesn’t give extensions. Now, after a very long waiting period, my benefactor has sent in the big dogs: me and my crew. We were called the Hounds of Death, and we were damned good at our job.
We walked into the restaurant in which Mr. Jones was having dinner with a client of his. As I looked around I almost laughed. Cleaver looked at me as though he didn’t understand the joke. “The restaurant is ours.”
He looked around more clearly, and then smiled. “Irony.”
Mr. Jones saw us before we saw him, but before he could make a run for it Malick had a hand on his shoulder, pushing back into his seat. His client, surprisingly a male…a young male at that, sat startled. “Uncle Joe, what’s going on?”
I looked at the young man then at Cameron. “Lunch with relatives? How cute.” I sat down and Malick removed his hand from Cameron’s shoulder.
“Look,” Cameron started.
I put my hand up to stop him. “How have you been Mr. Jones?” I looked directly at him and he found it hard to meet my gaze.
“I-I’ve been okay.”
My eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights. “That’s good. I would have been very upset to find that you were doing ill before I could get to you.” I looked at his throat, watching as he fought the urge to swallow then finally gave in. My close observation made a new film of sweat break out over his forehead.
“Yes, that would be tragic. Have you met my nephew, Officer Dominic Bradshaw.”
I turned my head slowly, mechanically forcing a smile on my face. “Nice to meet you, how’s the police work doing?”
He looked at me as though he couldn’t decipher what I was or what I wanted. “I’m retired…but it was good.”
He stuck out his hand and I stared at it, noting the veins just under the skin. If I looked hard enough I could see the way they were wired…the way they decorated the muscle and tissue. A sudden tug in my stomach made me realize that I hadn’t fed tonight. Malick snapped his finger and looked up at him.
“Later…” he nodded, “I promise later.”
“What’s this? Is the Leader of the Hounds of Death ill?” Cameron smiled smugly.
I leaned across the table until my face was centimeters from his. “If you think that the people in this restaurant would stop me from ripping your throat out your dead wrong.” I moved back to my side of the table and crossed my legs. “Now let's talk about what you owe, shall we?”
“I told him-”
“You told him that you would pay him back as soon as you were back on top.” Malick whispered, his posture completely straight yet slouchy. “My files indicate that you were back on top 6 months ago.”
Cameron was sweating and the smell of him made me want to vomit. “Yes, but now-”
“Now, you are doing better than ever.” Malick continued. “You numbers have more than tripled. If I may, the term ‘rolling in the dough’ applies to you very well.”
I looked at Cameron seriously. “You can't lie your way out of this one. Pay up or…we’ll have to find other means for you to pay what you owe. I’m sure your soul is worth a pretty penny.”
“How much does he owe?” We all looked at Dominic.
“Excuse me?” Patricia asked.
“How much does he owe? I’d be willing to pay as much as possible.”
“A hundred thousand without interest.” I said. “If you can pay that much then we can let him live a little longer.”
Dominic pulled out a check book and wrote a check for one hundred thousand dollars. He handed to me and I handed it Roslyn. She pulled out her cellphone and called it in.
“What’s she doing?” Dominic asked.
“She calling the check in, that way if it bounces we don’t take you to court, we kill you.” I smiled politely as though I had just explained how a car works.
“Are you serious?” He asked.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“Done.” Roslyn said.
I got up and straightened my pants. “Nice doing business with you.” I turned to Cleaver and he handed me a 9mm with a silencer on the end. “By the way,” I turned around aiming the gun right at Jones’s head. “I lied.” I pulled the trigger and his brain went splattering across the face of the waiter behind him.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Romance / Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.07.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 118 | Status: Work In Progress
I kneeled silently before the alter in the cathedral, a rosary clutched tightly in my hand. The light from the moon came in through the stained glass windows casting colorful paintings on the floor, outlining the silhouette of my crew. All four of them stood off to the side, watching me with skeptical eyes. Cleaver was the only one with the actual courage to step forward. He was a tall Germanic man with the type of build that would make a woman drool. His blonde hair was constantly spiked, his eyes were the lightest blue I’d ever seen, he had a chiseled jaw line, and all that sexiness was topped off by a pair thin square glasses that, believe it or not, were actually there because he was near sighted.
He crossed his arms over his arms over his chest then reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. “Anytime now, Fraulein.”
He sounded annoyed so I stood up and fixed my clothes, wrapping my rosary around my wrist. “No patience?” I walked past him down the aisle towards the exit. He and the rest of the group followed.
“I just don’t see the point of you praying. God’s already abandoned us, love.”
As we neared the exit the live in priest blocked our path. He held a gun up to us we stopped. “How did you get in?” He voice was calm, at least to human ears it would have been. If I wasn’t what I was I wouldn’t have seen the tremors moving through him, and I wouldn’t have heard the undertoned rasp and shake in his voice. He was scared shitless.
I put my arms up in defense, something humans did when faced with something they were afraid of. “Take it easy, father, we just came to pray.”
“Actually she came to pray,” Cleaver thumbed at me, “we were dragged along.” The rest of the group snickered and I shot Cleaver a glare.
“I want you out.” The priest said, cocking the gun.
“Okay.” I nodded, trying to keep him calm. If he shot at any of us, I couldn’t be held responsible for what any of us would do. “But you’re blocking the exit, and we can't walk through you. I felt a tug on my hand and looked down to see Patricia looking up at me through irritated brown eyes.
“Take care of this or I will.” She ground out.
I patted her head, my way of letting her know that I would kill her if she tried to order me around again. “You’re frightening the child, father.”
She changed those eyes from adult to child almost as quickly as a blink. “Please sir, I just wanna go home.”
The priest stared at her, slowly lowering his gun. “She’s tranced him.” Cleaver whispered in my ear. The priest moved to one side and let us pass; the minute we were out the door he fell in a dead sleep. Cleaver picked up Patricia like she was a child and spun her around. She laughed like she were care-free and I could feel myself wanting to vomit.
Roslyn came to one side of me, shaking her head. “You do understand that she wants your position, right?” She stared at me with wolf’s eyes, and I t was a bit eerie to see how they glowed in the moonlight.
“I am aware.”
“If she’s really serious about it, there will be a trial. You may have to kill her.”
“I can assure that I don’t give a damn about killing her. To me it would be an honor and a joy.” We both looked back at Patricia smiling happily in Cleaver’s arms. She was our vampire child, though its quire possible she’s older than most of us. A 120 year old soul locked in an 8 year-old’s body doesn’t quite make for sanity. She was unpredictable and edgy, but that calm doll like beauty suggested otherwise. I hated her, and she hated me.
“I believe tonight will be a lovely night.” We all looked back at Malick who was strolling, eyes up at the moon. Malick was a vampire also, we all were, with the exception of Roslyn, but he was different, and was more fragile than we were. His father had been a vampire and his mother hadn’t known until he had been killed in the middle of the night by Vamp hunters. She awoke to a pile of ash and three men proclaiming that the baby inside of her was a demonic presence, and the only way for her to live a happy life was to gut her and sew her back up. She didn’t believe that and escaped. However, when the time came for her to have her pride and joy she saw just what a monster it was. Convinced that something was wrong with him or that he had a degenerate disease, his mother had sold him to science when he was 10. They conducted experiments on him for the longest time. He never speaks of anything that happened to him, but our benefactor told us that one particular experiment was regeneration. They would cut off his body parts and see how long it would take for him to grow it back. Little is known about Malick, but we do know that he keeps a relatively cool head, and he is the only one of us who can walk in the light. I envy him for that.
“How are you feeling tonight, Malick?” Roslyn asked.
He looked at her as though he couldn’t decide if she was talking to him or not. “I’m feeling fine, Madame.” He sketched a fake bow.
It made me laugh because one could never really tell if there was something wrong with him. The only way we were ever sure was when he went in for his weekly checkup. One time he was so close to the brink that if he were put under anymore stress he’d have killed us all.
He looked at me closely and waved his finger. “You’re thinking too hard, E. Just let me be, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know if I have an issue.”
I faked a smile, unsure if that was a good or bad thing.
“So Fraulein, where is our target tonight.” Cleaver asked.
“He’s at a dinner party, as it were. Our orders are to give him the opportunity to pay what he owes…and if he doesn’t have it, which I know he does, we kill him.”
“You make it sound simple.” Roslyn smiled at me.
I smiled back. “It always is.”
Our target was a Mr. Cameron Jones. He was a medium height fat man; a wealthy socialite who had gone bankrupt and borrowed a large sum of money from my benefactor. Mr. Jones had a deadline and even an extension…just to be clear, my benefactor doesn’t give extensions. Now, after a very long waiting period, my benefactor has sent in the big dogs: me and my crew. We were called the Hounds of Death, and we were damned good at our job.
We walked into the restaurant in which Mr. Jones was having dinner with a client of his. As I looked around I almost laughed. Cleaver looked at me as though he didn’t understand the joke. “The restaurant is ours.”
He looked around more clearly, and then smiled. “Irony.”
Mr. Jones saw us before we saw him, but before he could make a run for it Malick had a hand on his shoulder, pushing back into his seat. His client, surprisingly a male…a young male at that, sat startled. “Uncle Joe, what’s going on?”
I looked at the young man then at Cameron. “Lunch with relatives? How cute.” I sat down and Malick removed his hand from Cameron’s shoulder.
“Look,” Cameron started.
I put my hand up to stop him. “How have you been Mr. Jones?” I looked directly at him and he found it hard to meet my gaze.
“I-I’ve been okay.”
My eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights. “That’s good. I would have been very upset to find that you were doing ill before I could get to you.” I looked at his throat, watching as he fought the urge to swallow then finally gave in. My close observation made a new film of sweat break out over his forehead.
“Yes, that would be tragic. Have you met my nephew, Officer Dominic Bradshaw.”
I turned my head slowly, mechanically forcing a smile on my face. “Nice to meet you, how’s the police work doing?”
He looked at me as though he couldn’t decipher what I was or what I wanted. “I’m retired…but it was good.”
He stuck out his hand and I stared at it, noting the veins just under the skin. If I looked hard enough I could see the way they were wired…the way they decorated the muscle and tissue. A sudden tug in my stomach made me realize that I hadn’t fed tonight. Malick snapped his finger and looked up at him.
“Later…” he nodded, “I promise later.”
“What’s this? Is the Leader of the Hounds of Death ill?” Cameron smiled smugly.
I leaned across the table until my face was centimeters from his. “If you think that the people in this restaurant would stop me from ripping your throat out your dead wrong.” I moved back to my side of the table and crossed my legs. “Now let's talk about what you owe, shall we?”
“I told him-”
“You told him that you would pay him back as soon as you were back on top.” Malick whispered, his posture completely straight yet slouchy. “My files indicate that you were back on top 6 months ago.”
Cameron was sweating and the smell of him made me want to vomit. “Yes, but now-”
“Now, you are doing better than ever.” Malick continued. “You numbers have more than tripled. If I may, the term ‘rolling in the dough’ applies to you very well.”
I looked at Cameron seriously. “You can't lie your way out of this one. Pay up or…we’ll have to find other means for you to pay what you owe. I’m sure your soul is worth a pretty penny.”
“How much does he owe?” We all looked at Dominic.
“Excuse me?” Patricia asked.
“How much does he owe? I’d be willing to pay as much as possible.”
“A hundred thousand without interest.” I said. “If you can pay that much then we can let him live a little longer.”
Dominic pulled out a check book and wrote a check for one hundred thousand dollars. He handed to me and I handed it Roslyn. She pulled out her cellphone and called it in.
“What’s she doing?” Dominic asked.
“She calling the check in, that way if it bounces we don’t take you to court, we kill you.” I smiled politely as though I had just explained how a car works.
“Are you serious?” He asked.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“Done.” Roslyn said.
I got up and straightened my pants. “Nice doing business with you.” I turned to Cleaver and he handed me a 9mm with a silencer on the end. “By the way,” I turned around aiming the gun right at Jones’s head. “I lied.” I pulled the trigger and his brain went splattering across the face of the waiter behind him.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Romance / Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.07.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 118 | Status: Work In Progress
silently before the alter in the cathedral, a rosary clutched tightly in my hand. The light from the moon came in through the stained glass windows casting colorful paintings on the floor, outlining the silhouette of my crew. All four of them stood off to the side, watching me with skeptical eyes. Cleaver was the only one with the actual courage to step forward. He was a tall Germanic man with the type of build that would make a woman drool. His blonde hair was constantly spiked, his eyes were the lightest blue I'd ever seen, he had a chiseled jaw line, and all that sexiness was topped off by a pair thin square glasses that, believe it or not, were actually there because he was near sighted.
He crossed his arms over his arms over his chest then reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. “Anytime now, Fraulein.”
He sounded annoyed so I stood up and fixed my clothes, wrapping my rosary around my wrist. “No patience?” I walked past him down the aisle towards the exit. He and the rest of the group followed.
“I just don't see the point of you praying. God's already abandoned us, love.”
As we neared the exit the live in priest blocked our path. He held a gun up to us we stopped. “How did you get in?” He voice was calm, at least to human ears it would have been. If I wasn't what I was I wouldn't have seen the tremors moving through him, and I wouldn't have heard the undertoned rasp and shake in his voice. He was scared shitless.
I put my arms up in defense, something humans did when faced with something they were afraid of. “Take it easy, father, we just came to pray.”
“Actually she came to pray,” Cleaver thumbed at me, “we were dragged along.” The rest of the group snickered and I shot Cleaver a glare.
“I want you out.” The priest said, cocking the gun.
“Okay.” I nodded, trying to keep him calm. If he shot at any of us, I couldn't be held responsible for what any of us would do. “But you're blocking the exit, and we can't walk through you. I felt a tug on my hand and looked down to see Patricia looking up at me through irritated brown eyes.
“Take care of this or I will.” She ground out.
I patted her head, my way of letting her know that I would kill her if she tried to order me around again. “You're frightening the child, father.”
She changed those eyes from adult to child almost as quickly as a blink. “Please sir, I just wanna go home.”
The priest stared at her, slowly lowering his gun. “She's tranced him.” Cleaver whispered in my ear. The priest moved to one side and let us pass; the minute we were out the door he fell in a dead sleep. Cleaver picked up Patricia like she was a child and spun her around. She laughed like she were care-free and I could feel myself wanting to vomit.
Roslyn came to one side of me, shaking her head. “You do understand that she wants your position, right?” She stared at me with wolf's eyes, and I t was a bit eerie to see how they glowed in the moonlight.
“I am aware.”
“If she's really serious about it, there will be a trial. You may have to kill her.”
“I can assure that I don't give a damn about killing her. To me it would be an honor and a joy.” We both looked back at Patricia smiling happily in Cleaver's arms. She was our vampire child, though its quire possible she's older than most of us. A 120 year old soul locked in an 8 year-old's body doesn't quite make for sanity. She was unpredictable and edgy, but that calm doll like beauty suggested otherwise. I hated her, and she hated me.
“I believe tonight will be a lovely night.” We all looked back at Malick who was strolling, eyes up at the moon. Malick was a vampire also, we all were, with the exception of Roslyn, but he was different, and was more fragile than we were. His father had been a vampire and his mother hadn't known until he had been killed in the middle of the night by Vamp hunters. She awoke to a pile of ash and three men proclaiming that the baby inside of her was a demonic presence, and the only way for her to live a happy life was to gut her and sew her back up. She didn't believe that and escaped. However, when the time came for her to have her pride and joy she saw just what a monster it was. Convinced that something was wrong with him or that he had a degenerate disease, his mother had sold him to science when he was 10. They conducted experiments on him for the longest time. He never speaks of anything that happened to him, but our benefactor told us that one particular experiment was regeneration. They would cut off his body parts and see how long it would take for him to grow it back. Little is known about Malick, but we do know that he keeps a relatively cool head, and he is the only one of us who can walk in the light. I envy him for that.
“How are you feeling tonight, Malick?” Roslyn asked.
He looked at her as though he couldn't decide if she was talking to him or not. “I'm feeling fine, Madame.” He sketched a fake bow.
It made me laugh because one could never really tell if there was something wrong with him. The only way we were ever sure was when he went in for his weekly checkup. One time he was so close to the brink that if he were put under anymore stress he'd have killed us all.
He looked at me closely and waved his finger. “You're thinking too hard, E. Just let me be, I'll make sure you're the first to know if I have an issue.”
I faked a smile, unsure if that was a good or bad thing.
“So Fraulein, where is our target tonight.” Cleaver asked.
“He's at a dinner party, as it were. Our orders are to give him the opportunity to pay what he owes…and if he doesn't have it, which I know he does, we kill him.”
“You make it sound simple.” Roslyn smiled at me.
I smiled back. “It always is.”
Our target was a Mr. Cameron Jones. He was a medium height fat man; a wealthy socialite who had gone bankrupt and borrowed a large sum of money from my benefactor. Mr. Jones had a deadline and even an extension…just to be clear, my benefactor doesn't give extensions. Now, after a very long waiting period, my benefactor has sent in the big dogs: me and my crew. We were called the Hounds of Death, and we were damned good at our job.
We walked into the restaurant in which Mr. Jones was having dinner with a client of his. As I looked around I almost laughed. Cleaver looked at me as though he didn't understand the joke. “The restaurant is ours.”
He looked around more clearly, and then smiled. “Irony.”
Mr. Jones saw us before we saw him, but before he could make a run for it Malick had a hand on his shoulder, pushing back into his seat. His client, surprisingly a male…a young male at that, sat startled. “Uncle Joe, what's going on?”
I looked at the young man then at Cameron. “Lunch with relatives? How cute.” I sat down and Malick removed his hand from Cameron's shoulder.
“Look,” Cameron started.
I put my hand up to stop him. “How have you been Mr. Jones?” I looked directly at him and he found it hard to meet my gaze.
“I-I've been okay.”
My eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights. “That's good. I would have been very upset to find that you were doing ill before I could get to you.” I looked at his throat, watching as he fought the urge to swallow then finally gave in. My close observation made a new film of sweat break out over his forehead.
“Yes, that would be tragic. Have you met my nephew, Officer Dominic Bradshaw.”
I turned my head slowly, mechanically forcing a smile on my face. “Nice to meet you, how's the police work doing?”
He looked at me as though he couldn't decipher what I was or what I wanted. “I'm retired…but it was good.” He stuck out his hand and I stared at it, noting the veins just under the skin. If I looked hard enough I could see the way they were wired…the way they decorated the muscle and tissue. A sudden tug in my stomach made me realize that I hadn't fed tonight. Malick snapped his finger and looked up at him.
“Later…” he nodded, “I promise later.”
“What's this? Is the Leader of the Hounds of Death ill?” Cameron smiled smugly.
I leaned across the table until my face was centimeters from his. “If you think that the people in this restaurant would stop me from ripping your throat out your dead wrong.” I moved back to my side of the table and crossed my legs. “Now let's talk about what you owe, shall we?”
“I told him-”
“You told him that you would pay him back as soon as you were back on top.” Malick whispered, his posture completely straight yet slouchy. “My files indicate that you were back on top 6 months ago.”
Cameron was sweating and the smell of him made me want to vomit. “Yes, but now-”
“Now, you are doing better than ever.” Malick continued. “You numbers have more than tripled. If I may, the term `rolling in the dough' applies to you very well.”
I looked at Cameron seriously. “You can't lie your way out of this one. Pay up or…we'll have to find other means for you to pay what you owe. I'm sure your soul is worth a pretty penny.”
“How much does he owe?” We all looked at Dominic.
“Excuse me?” Patricia asked.
“How much does he owe? I'd be willing to pay as much as possible.”
“A hundred thousand without interest.” I said. “If you can pay that much then we can let him live a little longer.”
Dominic pulled out a check book and wrote a check for one hundred thousand dollars. He handed to me and I handed it Roslyn. She pulled out her cellphone and called it in.
“What's she doing?” Dominic asked.
“She calling the check in, that way if it bounces we don't take you to court, we kill you.” I smiled politely as though I had just explained how a car works.
“Are you serious?” He asked.
“Do I look like I'm kidding?”
“Done.” Roslyn said.
I got up and straightened my pants. “Nice doing business with you.” I turned to Cleaver and he handed me a 9mm with a silencer on the end. “By the way,” I turned around aiming the gun right at Jones's head. “I lied.” I pulled the trigger and his brain went splattering across the face of the waiter behind him.