A/N: Another challenge fic, and rated R cause I'm malicious today.
Thirty Minute Challenge
Reno and The Don
Manila Folder and TV remote
The room was cold, though its occupant was sweating. Nervous wet patches were forming under his arms; a small bead of water hit the perfectly shined metal table. His big, dull eyes darted around the stainless steel room and his tongue lolled out to lick fat lips. Nothing in the room was comfortable, from the glaring polished steel to the disinfectant smell and that one red-ish stain against the back of the reinforced door, the room made ones hair stand up.
The door swung open, and another man glided in. This wasn't one of the three that brought him here. If it had been, perhaps he would have put up a fight. The two dark haired men had cordially asked to speak with him, wanting no trouble in the Honeybee. Their extremely large companion said nothing. Where they all wore sunglasses, this one did not. Bright red hair was barely held out of his face by black tinted bike goggles. His eyes were sharp, and full of some sort of rage the Don hadn't seen before.
His voice was deep, "so, Don Corneo, prince of the slums and biggest pimp on the planet" he started reading out of a manila folder. "I have a few questions I need you to answer for me."
"Yes, certainly, I never wanted problems with your com-"
The manila folder was suddenly slammed onto the table. "I specifically said you were to answer questions. NOT grovel like a pig in shit. Understood?"
The pimp's mouth clamped shut.
The smile on the red head's face was as cold as the room. He reached into his suit, making Corneo flinch. A remote control appeared from the suit, not the gun he had been expecting. Before he had finished sighing in relief, the item smashed against the back of his head. Corneo yelped, placing a hand on the back of his head and glaring up at his abuser.
The other man said nothing, simply turned on the TV in the corner. "Tell me, what is going on there?"
The Don left his hand on the back of his head and gaped in shock. Anger suddenly took place of fear he stood, pitching the chair behind him with a resonating clang. He loomed down at the red head, feeling confidant at his size. "Where did you get a camera for my personal room from?"
The red head smirked up at him, bright eyes gleamed like the young man had just seen Christmas. In a second, the folder was in the Turk's hand, the next second brought the edge of the folder across the Don's neck. The paper cut wasn't deep, but it still bled and hurt, earning a bellow of pain. The Don brought his arm up to defend his neck only to find the offending item back on the table, soaking up the blood. Instead, his wrist was caught in the young man's hand.
In the same fluid motion, the Turk stepped back, pulling the arm straight and pressed the metal remote against the elbow joint, it stressed, forcing the Don to his knees. He could hear a tendon snap, much more pressure and the arm would break. "I know he's a business rival! I was giving him favors, little stuff, nothing important I swear!" The pressure did not let up, though the Don continued to repeat himself.
"When will he be visiting again?" Came the calm question with added pressure.
There was another long snapping from the Don's arm. 'TOMORROW TOMORROW!"
Then with a kick sprawling him at the table legs, the Don was let go. He watched, shaking as the red head put the remote back in his pocket and picked the file up from the table. He strode from the room as calmly as he entered it. It was clear the two would be seeing each other tomorrow night.