A bony fist slammed into Leon's gut, knocking the wind out of him, rendering him breathless. Tony Fabrizzo's forearm was across Leon's throat, pinning him to the cold brick wall, nearly choking him. If he didn't know that yelling would only get him beaten more, he would have told them, fuck, he couldn't breathe. Fabrizzo delivered another harsh uppercut into Leon's stomach before he had a chance to take another breath. Leon's natural reflexes caused him to writhe in a desperate attempt to avoid another blow. Fabrizzo only pressed harder with his left forearm, cutting off Leon's air supply. He balled up his right fist, raised it next to his face and slammed it down on Leon's nose. Sticky blood gushed out of his nostrils, his eyes stung as they began watering and Fabrizzo's dark form became blurry.
Tony Fabrizzo was a medium built, middle aged guy with amazingly bony and painful fists. He was wearing a grey pinstriped suit with a white fedora casting an eery shadow over his face and hiding it from view. Standing behind Leon's assailant, facing the opposite direction with his back to him, was a large, stout, heavy set man. It was dark out, and chilly. That fact only made Fabrizzo's blows sting more. The faceless man facing the opposite direction lifted his leg slightly and shook it a little, as if shaking off the cold. A low, husky voice seeped through the darkness.
"Hurry this up, it's cold out here."
Fabrizzo didn't even look back, he just nodded and laid into Leon's gut again, forcing a gob of blood up through his mouth. Leon had enough, through a series of coughing and sputtering he said "Alright, alright fuck man. Stop." More coughing, slinging blood over the front of his tan sport coat.
"You didn't say the magic word." Fabrizzo said, a grin showing through the shadow of his fedora. He slammed his fist into Leon's face again.
Leon could feel his teeth digging into the inside of his lips, hot pain flowed rampant throughout his head. A rhythmic throbbing took place, making his brain seem two times too large for his skull. "Please! Please man, stop!"
Fabrizzo released his hold on Leon and let him slide to the ground. Leon held his throat and spit out mouthfuls of blood. He'd once heard that you could swallow a pint of blood before you get sick, he wondered if it was true...
Fuck. This was bad. He thought about how he got into this situation. Running guns for a big time mobster had never seemed like too big a deal. Get in the truck, drive to a warehouse, unload some boxes and drive back. Periodically he'd be asked to negotiate a deal, though rarely. So far it had never been a big deal, everything went off without a hitch. Drop the truck off, receive a briefcase of money, take it back to the boss and go home. The money was great for what little he did.
He slumped forward and held his head in his hands, trying to shake away the dazed feeling. He felt those bony hands lifting his head up against the brick wall he was leaning on to give him a good view of Tony Fabrizzo's fist slamming into his face again. He took the punch this time without saying a word, more white hot pain flooding into him.
He tried to think of how long he'd known Tony Fabrizzo. Well, not really known him, more like known 'of' him. He'd been introduced once or twice, shook hands or maybe said "How's it goin?". He'd heard he was pretty cold hearted, and while hanging out in the boss's nightclub could frequently hear some poor guy being laid into by him. He didn't think he'd be hearing himself get the hell beat out of him by the same guy.
He felt like yelling in frustration. Something so simple had most likely fucked his life up for a long time. He'd been driving a shipment of guns to some Mexican guys, a few AK47s. Bunch of young hotshots, gotta have the big fancy rifles. If they knew shit about guns, and they wanted to look like hard core professionals, they'd have ordered a shipment of Colt Commando Carbines. But, back to the point, halfway there in the middle of the street, at a red light, some chinese guy in a blue jumpsuit dragged him out of the car, kicked him in the ribs and drove off in his truck all before Leon had a chance to react. So he caught a cab back to the nightclub and told the boss about it. Immediately Tony Fabrizzo had grabbed him and the two escorted out back where Tony did a little persuading.
The low, husky voice of the boss began speaking again, "Get the eight hundred grand that that shipment was worth, give it to me, and get the fuck outta this town by the end of the week. If not, if you have another idea, every single day we'll bring you back here and we'll have an instant replay of tonight except every day it'll get worse and worse. Until, eventually, you'll die. But we won't make it quick, I'll give you a fucking blood transfusion to keep you alive if I have to. Just think about it, and get my mother fucking money."
And without another word the boss and Tony Fabrizzo causally walked back into the nightclub, leaving Leon outside to think about things. For a few minutes he just sat there trying to recover from his beating. Fuck. Fuck! He didn't understand any of this. There wasn't a damn thing he could do, the truck was stolen and that was that. Apparently the boss hadn't been too forgiving or understanding. Now he was faced with an eight hundred thousand dollar debt he could never pay. The money he was paid for running trucks full of dope or guns, or both had been good, about seventy or eighty grand a year, but not sufficient enough to pay a small fortune for some boxes of AK47s.
Shakily he stood up and leaned against the wall, his chest heaving up and down heavily. He walked around the club, to the front, to hail a cab. As he waited for it to roll up, he tried to figure things out. Paying up was out of the question. His conscience was telling him to just leave. Go home, pack your shit, get in your car and drive away. Don't ever turn back, just get out. But, somehow, the boss would find him and he knew that. He looked up at the dark sky, speckled with a star here and there, as of in search of an answer. The pale moonlight stared back at him, as if shrugging it's shoulders.
"Thanks..." Leon muttered as he turned his gaze to the wet pavement of the parking lot in front of the boss's 'Starlight Lounge'.
A classy place with an eighty dollar cover charge, it wasn't surprising to see so many sports cars parked in front of it. Amazingly the boss had found a spot away from the crime ridden mainland of Liberty City, tucked away in a quiet spot surrounded by the greenest grass in the city. The black top of the parking lot was amazingly unscathed, lacking the cracks and potholes of the other rundown rat holes laying around. It was most people's dream to be able to hang out in The Starlight for a night, just a night, and chat it up among rich big shots and partially clad ladies (who the boss let in for free). Just try looking at all that fucking neon, listening to the rhythmic pulsing of music coming from the inside. They served some of the best food in the city as well.
A cab pulled into the parking lot, searching for someone in need of a ride. Leon waved it over and got in the back seat. When asked where to, Leon just told him to just fucking drive, he'd make up his mind on the way.
