Ray looked down at the small whiskey glass he held loosely in his hand, staring down into the dull brown whiskey and getting a faint, out of proportion reflection staring back at him. Richie was back in his arm chair, and Catalina was in her bedroom, keeping quiet. Richie looked around at his dull apartment, and then at Ray. He leaned forward a little, trying to signal for Ray to start a conversation so he wouldn't have to. Ray saw the look, but pretended not too and kept on staring at his whiskey for a short time before taking a small sip and sinking back into the tattered surface of Richie's couch. Richie grew tired of waiting and spoke up, ruining the peaceful yet uncomfortable silence.
"I don't think it was smart to park the car at the building. Someone coulda seen us that knows that don't belong to us, or someone could just see the car and wonder how anyone that lives here could afford it. I also have a small problem with the unconscious drunk cat laying on the floor over there." Richie sat silent for a moment, waiting for some input from Ray, who was in the middle of another sip of whiskey, "OK, this guy was in a bar at ten p.m. sucking back drinks with nothing better to do. Guy owns a fuckin Cadillac, a nice one, and has a big shiny gat in his coat. You think he's some bum who wandered in? I'm really doubting that. This guy is somebody, I don't know who, but he ain't a vagrant."
Ray looked up, setting his now empty glass down on the coffee table in front of him and looking to his right, at the heap in the corner was the drunk they'd picked up in front of the bar. He was out cold, laying on the ground motionless except the rhythmic heaving of his chest as he took in breath. Ray smirked to himself and looked back to Richie. "I guess we need to wake his ass up and ask him, don't we?"
"Hey man, that sounds like a plan to me. Long as he ain't got this thing," Richie tossed the large, silver .45 onto the coffee table in front of Ray, it landed with a loud clang and came to a rest, the barrel absently pointed towards the front door, "Let's wake him up?"
Ray and Richie both began slowly walking toward the motionless person, each of them staring down at him, and then back at each other. Ray bent down and hoisted his upper torso into the air, dragging him a short distance and propping him up against the brown wall. Ray grunted a little as the dead weight of the drunk caused him to seem heavier. Ray straightened himself, watching the drunk's head drooping forward, his eyelids never fluttering.
Richie contemplated how he was going to wake him up, or if he would even be able too. It didn't look like this guy was going to be moving for awhile, and he didn't particularly want to beat him up any more.
"Ray, hand me that glass." Richie said as he kneeled down and took a closer look at the drunk. Ray handed him a half empty glass of whiskey from the table and watched closely..
Immediately Richie turned the glass on its side and doused the drunk's face with the liquid inside, and then proceeded to lightly slap the side of his face.
Leon's head was pounding as he was suddenly aware of his own consciousness. Stinging pain returned to his beaten face as he felt an excruciating throbbing take place all over his body. He slowly struggled to lift his heavy eye lids. They slowly opened, revealing the blurred image of someone in front of him, and depressing brown walls surrounding everything. His left eye was swollen almost completely shut, not helping the fact the he already couldn't see very well. Gradually the scene in front of him grew more clear, and he realized that a middle aged guy with dusty black hair, couple day's worth of stubble on his chin, and a cocky grin on his face was staring at him. He didn't bother attempting to speak, instead he tried to ease his hangover into a state of being bearable. He wasn't even sure if it could be considered a hang over, he still felt pretty drunk and heavily disoriented. The fact that he'd been car jacked and taken to a place he'd never been to before by total strangers wasn't helping much.
"Come on, wake up. Me'n you gotta talk." The guy in front of him was saying.
Leon groaned slightly, ignoring him. Jumping him and stealing his car wasn't exactly what these guys should have done if they were planning on Leon talking to them. He knew his gun was gone, as he no longer felt it's stiff metal form against his chest. Two armed men against one beaten and drunk Leon. No chance of escape here. Smooth talking them was an option, or he could beg. Why? His boss was going to kill him in a couple of weeks anyway so these guys could go ahead and do their worst. Leon lifted his head and looked the middle aged guy in the eye.
"Wakey wakey," Richie's grin widened, "Eggs and bakey."
"Where am I?" Leon stuttered a little, trying to make his tongue not feel as if it were swollen to the size of a football.
"That's not important. I need to know who you work for. I like your car a lot by the way, it's very classy." Richie sat down on the floor to get comfortable as Ray looked on in amusement.
"Fuck you."
"Come again?" Richie drew his fist back and knocked Leon's head against the wall behind him with a punch to the right side of his face.
Leon's eyes watered as he desperately tried to shake off the growing pain in his face. It became even more swollen as his head slumped forward and blood trickled onto his filthy clothes from wounds in his mouth. Less than half a day ago he was getting paid ridiculous amounts of money to do menial tasks, and he was happy doing it. He had had a comfortable life and a less than dismal future. Now he was half beaten to death in a stranger's apartment with a life clock that was going to run out soon one way or another. Some guys get all the luck.
Some don't get any at all.
Richie's grin had faded as soon as the words had escaped Leon's lips. "Fuck me? I'm the one with the gun here! Do you know what that means?" Richie waited for an answer and didn't get one. He lifted Leon's head up by the chin and forced him to open his eyes, "That means fuck YOU! Now tell me who you work for and what you can tell us!"
"I can tell you it hurts like shit to get the hell beaten out of you after you've already gotten the hell beaten out of you." Leon said deadpan as he spat a mouthful of blood into the stranger's face.
Richie jumped back, wiping frantically at his face. "Mother fucker! I'll slit your throat you punk!" He screamed as he searched for some form of hanker chief or napkin. Ray chuckled to himself as took Richie's place in front of the bleeding man on the floor.
"That was pretty good, blood in the face and all. I tell you, you're lucky if he doesn't fuck you up now. Hey, I won't lie. I'd be pissed to if you spat in my face. Look, we won't kill you if you tell us what we want to know. Cops avoid this place like the plague, so don't think we'll be careful if you act difficult. I'll personally paint this room with your fucking blood if you don't start talking, ok?" Ray's raspy voice explained casually.
"Guess what asshole? I don't have anything to lose. My death warrant's signed anyway so why should I tell anything to a sociopath like you? Kill me now if you're going to do it. Take the car, have a blast. I don't care." Leon said angrily as he wished the fat guy in front of him would back off so he could bask in his own misery uninterrupted.
His wishes weren't answered as Ray held Leon's head against the wall. "Seriously, start talking. We're getting fed up. Once Richie cleans that shit off his face you're in trouble. Who do you work for?"
"Haven't we been over this?" Leon said stubbornly as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Ray sighed heavily and let go of Leon's head. As he stood up slowly, he tried to think of what to do. Was this guy even worth it? Probably just some guy who got wasted off his ass one night. That's nothing special, especially in Liberty. Shady dealings could get a guy a car like that, it wasn't a big deal. As Ray sauntered over to the table to pick up the immobile .45, Richie burst into the room holding a hammer. There was a small amount of dried blood still on his face from the mouthful he received from the drunk, and a crazed look was in his eyes.
"Ok motherfucker, this is how it is." Richie stood in front of Leon, the rusted hammer hanging lazily at his side, "Tell me what the deal is now or this little piggy's going to market!"
Richie leaned down and held the hammer readily above Leon's right foot. Leon sighed heavily, producing a coughing attack after a rattling in his throat caused more blood to make it's way out of his mouth. "Ok, ok ok. Don't do that. Look, I'm going to get killed anyway so I guess it doesn't matter what I tell you. Just put down the hammer, please." Leon said hopelessly as he leaned his head back so that he didn't have to support it himself.
Richie looked up, almost disappointed. Breaking the guy's spirit was overshadowed by the fact that he was still pissed over having gotten spit on. Whatever, he still planned on killing the poor asshole after he got a confession anyway. He'd do it painfully too, or at least let Catalina have whatever fun she wanted. She kept a power drill in the top drawer of her dresser, just in case.
"I'm not important, alright? So don't get the wrong idea. All I do is drive trucks back and forth for Mo Casino." There was a click from behind Richie as Ray had pulled the hammer back on the .45. The barrel was trained at the guy's head as if he were seconds away from firing. However, upon mention of Mo Casino, his expression had changed completely. He let the gun fall to the ground and hastily leaned forward once again so that he was eye level with Leon.
"Mo Casino?" Ray asked, almost excitedly. A broad grin came over his face as he turned to face Richie, "Small fuckin' world isn't it?
