Authors note: i do not own any of the characters that appear in this story.
this story contains violence, readers discretion is advised.
After his passing, Cyril's home and place of business remained devoid of activity; neither his associates' nor his remaining family had stepped foot (or hoof) inside the large residence. The individuals closest to Cedric concluded that the emotional upset was too much for the young aardvark to deal with. The trio of pigs had their own reasons, and they claim that those reasons were simply out of respect for their former boss. However on the same day when the news came down from Cyril's attorney that the three pigs had inherited everything their boss had owned, those same three wasted no time in surveying their new mansion and all the contents held within it.
None of the three would openly admit their feelings for their former employer, but deep down inside they all held what they felt was a firmly rooted resentment for the old aardvark. The mournful sorrow they were pretending to be wrought with had been replaced with an kind of exuberant joy that could not be put into words. The problems pertaining to unemployment were replaced with the not-so-problematic issue of their new found wealth, and what to do with it. Yes, the death of Cyril Sneer had made the pigs happy, and they did not care what anyone else thought about that; why should they? Cyril's total net worth was somewhere in the stratosphere at the time of his passing, but now that wealth had new owners.
The mansion itself felt baron; it had remained untouched for less then a week, yet the sense of stagnation seemed very prevalent to the new inhabitants. Everything remained untouched and just as it had been the day Cyril stepped out the of front door and to his eventual demise; this gave the impression that their old bosses presents was still evident which left them with a feeling of unease. It was a feeling that wouldn't last, when opening up the untouched vault, the trio's feelings relating to Cyril were quickly forgotten.
The three stood there at the mouth of the vault, staring into the vast fortune Cyril had accumulated over the years. The only conclusion the little swine could come to was that this was a cue for celebration. Without worrying about the amount of noise their celebration was making, the pigs took their party to the corridors and rooms of the mansion. They smoked the dead tycoon's imported cigars, consumed the fine vintage port and blasted music from speakers that could be heard thought the buildings entirety.
Their celebratory parade touring the mansion had brought the trio of brothers to Cyril's old study. The walls of that room had been lined with book shelves except for one which remained baron; placed in front of the naked wall was a mahogany desk facing the rest of the room. Behind the desk, on the floor, sat a small combination operated safe.
It was Lloyd who suggested they hold the party up here for a few minutes so he could go over some of the financial records that had been left behind, the other two pigs agreed. As Lloyd skimmed through the books he realised that the idea of liquidizing all of Cyril's assets and retiring off the money was the only feasible option for him and his two brothers. While contemplating the idea, Lloyd lit-up another cigar.
Of course there was one thing the pig failed to take into account, and that was the fact that Cyril Sneer was not dead. It was something all three would soon find out in the most horrifying of ways.
The sequence of macabre events started when the heavy wooden door in the far side of stone-lined room flew open, the pigs themselves swung their heads around toward the door in unison. The three had initially seen Cedric, someone they were not expecting to see at so-late an hour. From what the they saw, Cedric was in bad condition, he had lost his glasses, he looked rough, his head was nearly bald save for a few scraggly strains and he looked old. The decrepit figure also had an unlit, wet cigar in his mouth. It was Cedric that first came to mind to the three pigs because it wasn't believable to any of them that this individual could be the boss. And yet this person was not Cedric.
Finally with some dismay, the second pig spoke up. "Boss?" It was all he managed to squeaked out.
"That's right boys, I'm back from the dead." He proclaimed in that gruff, rough voice one could only get from years of cigar inhalation.
There was no doubt about it, it was definitely him. Standing there in the arch of the entrance stood Cyril Sneer, evergreen forest's tycoon and boss to the three pigs.
There was a familiarity the pigs had with the aardvark from years of working under his leadership; a huge chunk of that familiarity was not there. By looking at him the pigs knew something thing about Cyril was off; his posture was different, his pigmentation was grotesquely unnatural and his eyes were altered. Those altered eyes were dead and lifeless; the stare that was directed toward the pigs appeared to passed right through them which left the trio with a genuine feeling of fright and unease. When he began to stagger toward the three, the pigs scrambled to their side of the desk in a line up. It was instinct in the presents of their boss.
"But sir, we thought you were gone." the first pig explained, with the cigar still in his mouth.
"Nonsense," he immediately dismissed. "The grave couldn't't keep me from my money. And now that I'm back I can implement my top secret plans of expansion on the oil sands to the north. This venture will make me richer then ever, but not before I take care of Cedric and that pesky raccoon, Bert."
"How?" the second one said ignoring that last bit about Cedric and Bert. "With all respect sir, it's not feasible to extract the oil from those fields."
"That kind of thinking can only come from a small mind like yours." Cyril said pointing at the second pig as he reached his desk. "That's why I'm going to build an assembly of large trucks so I can ship the sands to even larger refineries that will use surfactant in the separation process."
Cyril kneeled down and opened one of the lower drawers of his desk-pulling out a clear unlabeled bottle of dark liquor and a glass cup to accompany it. He poured a respectable amount of alcohol into the glass and drank it down in one quick swig. Slamming the glass down on top of the desk with a thirst-satisfying breath, he poured another cup. Leaving the liquor on the desk, he turned around to the safe on the ground against the wall. Cyril fiddled with the dial before cranking the heavy iron door open. What he extracted from the safe was a huge revolver, he turned around and laid the firearm out onto the desk in full display for all to see.
"But boss," Lloyd spoke, now more frightened and confused then ever. "Melissa saw you die."
"Let that be a lesson to you three," Cyril said picking up the glass again for another quick drink. After setting the cup back down he picked up his handgun, now waving around the firearm with reckless abandon. "If you want something done right you better do it yourself. Which reminds me."
The aardvark pushed the latch of the revolver, swinging the cylinder open. All five chambers were loaded, satisfied, he snapped the cylinder shut.
"Think about this Cyril," the third one said now sounding like a pleading annoyance to his boss. "Cedric is your son. You raised him, he looks up to you."
The third pig was more then ready to beg if it would change his bosses' mind. The thought of Cyril killing his own son terrified him. But as he soon found out, that terror for Cedric's life was in turn replaced by terror for his own.
The response the pig was offered was a cold stare from the bosses' empty eyes. That bone chilling look was accompanied by a silence that grew louder the longer Cyril stared him down. That present silence was broken by quick neat clicks coming from the gun. It was Cyril's thumb that cocked the hammer back causing the revolver's chamber to align with the barrel. The two stared at each other for a few more soundless seconds.
Without reaction from either of the of the three pigs, Cyril pointed the revolver at the hog and squeezed the trigger. The point 500 magnum round was discharged from the gun, entering the pigs head, between the eyes with near perfect precision. The shear force of the bullet had been enough to blow the pig back and off his feet. For a moment that passed in a blink, the pig was suspended in air as the bullet tore its way to the back of the victim's skull. His head divided into two halves when the round exited the pig. The result of which sprayed bits of bone and bloody globs of pink flesh out from the exit wound of pig. The corpse dropped to the stone tiled floor with a thud followed quickly by a sickening splat from the head's contents.
The two remaining pigs looked on in white horrified fear. There their brother's twitching body lay on the ground in a growing pool of dark blood, their business partner and family member now dead by the hands of their boss. The cigar in the mouth of the first pig fell out and on to the floor, the second pig's expression of paralysis was identical.
"Don't you think I know he's my son!" Cyril yelled at the body. "I raised him, I taught him everything I know. And yet he betrayed my love for the friendship of some halfwit raccoon."
Cyril Sneer had lost his mind, the two pigs thought. Not only was this out of character for their boss, but he was yelling at their now dead brother. What ever happened to Cyril seemed to change him in a most sadistic way. "I want this mess cleaned up when I get back." he said before finishing off his drink. "I don't need anymore mutinies from the likes of you bumbling buffoons."
Cyril began walking to the exit, gun in-hand, now with a stronger more confident stride. "Hell maybe I'll put a few in Sophia just to show people I mean business."
The old Sneer slammed the door shut when he left, leaving the two pigs dumbfounded and at a loss for words.