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Lucian
Stepping from the elevator on the floor to the catacombs, I casually sip my drink, as the sound of screaming echoes down the shadowy corridor. I open the door to the room on the right, where Makaio blocks most of my view. All I can see from the doorway is a pair of trembling feet sticking out from the right of the massive bodyguard, as Makaio goes to work on removing Franco’s tongue, per my earlier request.
Because the best meetings are the ones where I talk, and assholes listen.
I stroll to the other side of the chair, getting a front row view of the carnage, where Franco lies in a bloody mess on the old dentist chair, his tongue on a silver tray beside him.
I tip back another sip of my drink and tuck my hand into my pocket, listening to him sob like a child. “I apologize for the haste of this meeting, but I’m afraid the matter was urgent. I’ve come to the decision that I’m neither going to return your shipment, nor entertain any bullshit from your uncle. No one will find your body. You’ll be nothing more than another pile of bones to add to my collection.”
As he moans and writhes in the chair, Makaio grabs one of the tools from beside him and prods a sharp-looking object into the man’s side.
Franco arches, his voice cracking on a scream before it dies down to another sob.
The sight of his tears tugs a smile that I bury in the last of my drink. “Turns out, you were right, Franco. I am fucking crazy.”