Trent 8-ball and Fido:
Fido slowed the car to a stop right outside Momma's Restaurant in Harwood. He takes out his gun and lays it on the dashboard, feeling that bringing it might offend Tony.
Fido had done several Jobs for Tony Cipriani in the past, all of them had turned out great, but Tony had Mafia connections and Fido had blown away most of Cipriani's business, which included Luigi and his club. To his amazement though, Tony did not kill Fido he didn't even blame him, in Tony's mind the bastards got what they deserved, besides now Tony had Fido securely in his grasp, working exclusively for him.
Trent had heard of the infamous Momma's Restaurant, it was the starting point for most crime myths that started in or around Liberty. One of which said that during a police raid Tony and his boys killed the cops and served them up as food in an attempt to hide the evidence. Asking Tony - he felt - would be a bad idea; some things are better left unsaid.
The three of them approached the wooden table that Tony was sitting at, a red and white striped umbrella kept him from the rain as he continued his conversation with the man sitting across from him. He was telling Tony a story about a job that went bad. He had a long face, big eyes and odd shaped teeth; his voice was slightly high-pitched and very annoying.
"So all these fuckers shoot each other right there in front of me, I mean it was so fast it was like BAM! I couldn't believe it. I figured since I was the only one acting like a professional I'd just take the bag and run - "
"Doesn't sound like you acted like a professional, it sounds like you acted like a pussy!" Tony cuts in laughing.
"Can I finish the fuckin' story huh? Can I?"
"Yeah sure man. Okay."
"I don't really remember much of what happened after that. I got in a car, I shot like the fuck out of the police but they kept comin', I mean it was like cockroaches or somethin' they just kept comin'. Anyway, they locked my ass up, right after shootin' my ass. I'm lucky I got out early though.
"You sure are," Tony says, "but if you don't stick around Liberty from now on, the cops are gonna' get you for bustin' out, I'm sure you'll be safe if you stay here."
"Thanks Tony."
"Hey no problem."
Tony gets up from his seat just long enough to greet Fido and the others he shakes their hands then sits down, not wanting to get too wet.
"What're you three guys doin' here?... Can't say I remember this guy..." he says pointing to Trent, "but I couldn't forget the work this guy Fido did for me. Hey 8-ball how you holdin' up?"
"Good. I'm doin good. All three of us though, we were hoping you had some work..."
"I do." Tony says reassuringly, lighting a cigar, "Three man job sounds perfect for what I had in mind. If this guy you got..."
"Trent."
"Trents a new guy, he might not want a job like this one. It's big and it's not easy, I can guarantee a huge cut."
The man who told the story gets up from the table. "I think I'll see you later Tony."
"Yeah okay man, don't get into too much trouble." The man walks out and Tony turns to 8-ball, "You should here that guy's story it's great, it's about a job that got real fucked up, diamond heist. Good stuff, cops getting their ears cut off and shit like that, I love it..." Tony takes a puff of his cigar, "Oh yeah, where the hell were we?"
"Guarantying a huge cut..."
"Right, the place I'm talkin' about is huge business. A Diablo ring started about five months ago down by Portland Harbor. I didn't think anything of it at first, but lately they've been bringing in more money than the Federal Reserve. It's a bunch of crazy motherfuckers fighting, illegally, wrestling stuff you know. Anyway I want you to take their money, as much as you can, put in the back of a Sentinal and drive it back here, when you're done, I'll give you your cut. You can take anything extra that'll fit in your pocket. Okay? Sound good?"
"Yeah that sounds good." 8-ball says wiping his mouth, smiling
"I've got a paper here with all the details, the money's in a safe. So you'll have to get the combination from this guy in the Red Light named Lobo. Do ANYTHING to get that combo from him."
Safe Information:
The three of them drive down the Red Light in the Mafia Sentinal. Tony had supplied Trent with clothes; he was dressed in a black and white suit just like the rest of Tony's gang. He doesn't seem to fit in with Fido and 8-ball in the front seats. Fido's wearing his usual outfit, and 8-ball stopped off to get his lucky 8-ball jacket and a pair of blue jeans. Trent takes off the top part of the suit and replaces it with a red T-shirt and an overcoat, his pants didn't fit in with the suit anyway; they were black jeans. He picks up the piece of paper that Tony had given them.
Trent looks at the sheet of paper with a sort of confused recognition. 8-ball notices, and takes the paper from Trent.
"What?"
"I don't know, the name Lobo... sounds familiar to me for some reason."
"Really, I don't know if it's familiar to me or not? I mighta' heard it somewhere."
The three of them pull up next to a payphone and Trent looks out the window at the tall brick structure of the apartment complex. It's a Diablo owned apartment, they remove their guns, taking weapons or using them could get them killed, and none of them had a silencer to use. That was the reason Trent had temporarily changed his clothes, Diablos would shoot at anyone who looked like they might be from a rival gang.
"This is the place. What's the room number again?" Trent asks 8-ball.
"Five-seventeen."
They all get out of the car and head into the building, inside is a Diablo an old gangster with an arsenal on his left and piles of coke on his right. The place looked like a strong wind could blow it off its foundation, the bricks were cracked and the floor was covered in dust, soot, and cocaine. 8-ball steps up to the counter.
"Room five-seventeen would be on the fifth floor right?"
Trent turns to Fido and whispers, "I bet a living cop's never set foot in this place."
"No." the Diablo says to 8-ball, "Five-seventeen is on the second floor."
"The second floor?"
"Yeah..."
8-ball is confused but decides it's better not to ask questions, "Okay..."
"I hope your business goes well senor." The Diablo says as the three of them head up the stairs.
They all took the stairs for separate reasons. 8-ball had seen that the elevator wasn't working so he knew he had no choice. Fido did it purely for the exercise; he needed to stay in shape to stay alive. Trent had done it because he thought it would build tension, and because the two of them had, he would have been happy taking the elevator.
"Second floor five-seventeen. Second floor five seventeen."
8-ball continuously repeats it so that he can remember. They approach the second floor. Trent tightens his grip on a heavy steel baseball bat, preparing. The Diablo at the counter hadn't noticed the bat hidden on Trent's left side.
They walk through the dark hallway, and approach a room that says five-seventeen, it's totally random, all of the other doors had gone in numerical order, but five-seventeen was completely out of place. They stand to the left of the door.
"Ready...?" 8-ball asks Trent.
Trent and Fido both nod their heads yes. Fido puts his hand on the doorknob and turns it, slowly.
BAM! Bullets rip through the door blasting six holes through it in a collage of flying splinters. The man at the counter apparently had seen the baseball bat. Fido quickly runs to the right side of the door before it swings open, when it does he lunges forward like a cobra and decks Lobo in the side of the face knocking him violently to the ground. Then he stomps down hard on Lobo's hand, the pain gets to him and he accidentally pulls the trigger. The gun goes off and 8-ball jumps.
"Damn man! I almost got shot!"
Trent leans down and looks at 8-ball's shoe, there's a small hole in the rubber underneath 8-ball's toes.
"Lift him up." Trent says to the two of them. They lift Lobo up, who stands on his knees.
Trent leans down getting right in Lobo's face, he smiles darkly, suddenly.
"Hoooly shit!"
"What?" 8-ball asks him.
"Oh man," he says laughing, "This is just too fucking good!"
Trent takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. He puffs on it for a half a second then leans in ominously towards Lobo, rainwater drips off the top of his head.
"I knew I'd seen you somewhere before," he blows the smoke in Lobo's face, "you're that guy I saw on T.V. The news right - the guy who killed five children - the child molester? You don't have to say anything; I know you'll just deny it. Like you did on T.V. They didn't have enough evidence, well believe me, now you're gonna' wish they had! I despise people like you; you give guys like us a bad name. People think because you're a criminal and a freak that all criminals are as fucked up as you, it's so easy to drop a label on someone. The word criminal is a cliché, it's the amount of shit you accumulate that makes you who you are, and you just keep building." Trent talks to him like he's talking to a friend he hasn't seen in years who has just recently screwed up his life.
Trent swings the bat downward, hitting Lobo diagonally across the chest. 8-ball and Fido could here the loud "THnK" of metal on bone the sound muffled by flesh and cloth. Fido and 8-ball feel Lobo go limp.
"Man what the fucked you do that for?"
"Man I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident."
"Accident? - "
"Yeah."
8-ball drops Lobo on his face.
"You killed the motherfucker!"
"Aww. Come on he ain't dead. He's just passed out - here get him in the room, before someone sees us.
Fido and 8-ball drag Lobo into room five-seventeen and throw him on the torn mattress of Lobo's king-sized bed. 8-ball looks around disgusted; the room is filled with roaches, the T.V. is on, but the back of it has been ripped out. Drugs, guns, and money are strewn across the floor, along with empty boxes, and rotting food.
"Jesus Christ!" 8-ball says, "Mexican's live like this?"
"Hey don't say shit like that, my first girlfriend was Mexican and she was a goddamn clean freak."
"I meant Mexican guys."
"I could give a flying fuck what you meant."
"Okay. Okay." 8-ball says itching to change the subject, "How the fuck are we gonna' wake him up? We got to get out of here fast."
Trent looks over at Fido and points to Lobo, "Hey Dog? Wake him up."
Fido steps forward and brings the bat down like an axe on Lobo's crotch. He jolts forward and screams in pain. 8-ball annoyed slams his hand against Lobo's throat.
"Will you shut the fuck up?!"
"I think you know what we're here for Lobo. If you don't tell us - what the combination to the safe is - I'm going to play baseball with your skull. Now what is it?" Trent asks him.
"Fuck you puta!"
"That is not a very nice thing to say Lobo.
Trent signals to Fido, who steps forward with the bat. Lobo looks up at it in horror.
"No, I swear to fucking god man if you do that I will KILL YOU!"
8-ball smiles, "He still thinks it's smart to be cocky."
Fido swings the bat, they hear that "THnK" sound again but this time it is much louder, it is closely followed by number of other sounds. Including a crackling that sounds like broken glass.
"Here that Lobo?" Trent asks, "I think my friend here just broke your fuckin' legs! Now was that worth it? Are you going to tell us the combination now or do we have to upgrade?"
"Fuck you! I'll tell you. You fuckin' bastards!"
"We're listening." 8-ball says.
"Twenty-five seventeen, anyone could figure that out. My rooms on the second floor 'two' and it's 'five-seventeen'. You Mafia guys are too fuckin' stupid to figure that out?"
"That's it then." 8-ball says "We got it let's go."
Before they leave Trent turns around and grabs the bat from Fido's hand. He looms ominously over Lobo. Lobo looks so scared, almost pisses on himself.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
"Like baseball?"
Lobo lets out one final 'NO!' than the bat smashes into his head. Trent continues to swing harder, faster. He slams it down so hard when he brings it up again blood trails the bat and streaks across the roof. His anger continues and the blood on the bat continues to flow through the room, again, and again, and again. Until it's unclear how many times he's hit him. 8-ball watches on with disgust he'd never seen Trent's anger so fueled. Trent abruptly stops swinging the bat after his long sprawl of violence. Frozen in time, he once again looms over the body, breathing heavily, calming down.
Fido comes over and places his hand on Trent's shoulder, not to comfort him; it seems more like a proud gesture.
"Man that was fuckin' crazy" 8-ball says to them. I never seen anything like that before. You fucking killed him!"
"Fucker deserved it too." Trent leans over and spits on the bloody corpse, "Fuckin' child molester."
"Let's go." Just as 8-ball says it an explosion rings out outside the building."
They get outside and can't find the source of the explosion, only rising smoke. They figure it doesn't concern them anyway.
Fido smiles happily as he notices the irony. The payphone they had parked next to was the same one that he used to take jobs on. They were going to rob a Diablo ring. The man who gave him the jobs over the phone was El Burro, the leader of the Diablos. 'I barely have loyalty at all' he says to himself.
Which was even funnier because that was one of the key sources in his nicknames 'Fido and Dog.' Mans best friend, companion, loyal, lapdog. He was none of the above in his mind, yet his nicknames were meant to reflect that.
His only loyalty lied within his true instinct for choosing his partners in crime. Usually he was good at it, but sometimes he slipped up. 8-ball was not a slip-up he was the most loyal of them all, so any of 8-ball's friends had to be worth hanging around. These three men would take a bullet for each other and that made them untouchable.
Trent smiled at his handiwork on the bat, wiped it off then got into the backseat of the Sentinal. Then Fido prepared to drive the three of them to their first real job.