A light flickers in Big Sal's office as Button Man jerks the office door closed. I ease myself against the red wall behind Big Sal. From across the desk, Cachino watches me, loathing in his eyes. I smirk. He glares before reluctantly turning his attention to my new boss, Big Sal.
"Cachino…You really disappointed me." Big Sal pushes a familiar leather-bound journal across his desk. The ire in Cachino's eyes fades and is replaced by distress. Glee rises from my gut. The corners of my mouth curl. I can already feel the thorn being tweaked from my side.
"I'm sorry boss. Sometimes I just can't control myself." He is sweating, squirming. The sign of a man with no time left. I watch Button Man ready his sawed-off behind Cachino. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I swear I can turn things around. Just give me another chance."
"I don't wanna fuckin' hear it." Big Sal's hoarse voice seems fitting for this kind of speech. Grim Reaper incarnate. "You've lost the trust of the family. Goodbye. I hope Hell isn't too hot for you."
First blast: The force of the shotgun's pellets propel Cachino's corpse clean across the room. He lies limp against the filing cabinets just a meter away from my boots.
Second blast: The rat's head is mush. I wonder who is going to clean that up. Button Man smiles at the mess before him. Who knew you could make a mess of filth?
Big Sal turns in his chair to face me. "Thanks for bringing Cachino's transgressions to our attention. Shame we had to put him down, he was a good lieutenant." I flick a bit of skull and grey matter from my duster.
"Maybe I can spare some time to fill in on behalf of the late great Cachino." I flip the belt buckle beneath my duster to reveal a bronze bull, the mark of Caesar. "Vulpes Inculta sent me here to check up on the developments of the big plan." Surprised, Big Sal nods.
"Did he now? Well, I was actually hopin' to jaw at you about that. Now that Cachino is gone, we need some help wrappin' some things up, and you seem like the resourceful type."
"Whatdya need and how much are you payin'?"
"Two of the players, Troike and Clanden, have some problems that need to be solved. Ask them what they need. Don't worry about payment; I'll see to it that you are well compensated." Cracking my knuckles one by one, I cross the office without a word, ignoring how I track blood in my wake.
