DETROIT, INDUSTRIAL DISTRICT

Me and Tommy arrived at the run down warehouse around 7pm. No one was around the area, except for the homeless... and maybe a few drug addicts. As we both walk inside I can hear the man we had captive there, he had grown impatient after being held for over 2 hours by one of Tommy's men. The associate Tommy sent gave two fucks, he just let the man ramble. I heard a lot of wiggling in the chair as he was saying that he made a huge mistake, and that he was a very powerful man. After those words were said me and Tommy walked in.

While approaching the man I begin speaking to him. "Really?...a powerful man huh?." I grab a chair and place it a few feet in front of the captive man. As I sit down he says "Your the one who tossed Phillips off the roof!"

I stare at the man but don't comment, instead I continue speaking on a different subject.

"Well... Richie Wilkerson! We finally meet. I understand that your planning to testify against me... that correct?." Man stares before answering "bet your crooked ass I am!"

I smirk at Tommy before continuing to speak. "You know Ritchie I always loved it when a man who is on the shit end of the stick has to make it known that he's powerful. Let me ask you something... do you know what all powerful men and women have in common?." Ritchie shakes his head. "They all eventually have someone standing behind them with a gun... just waiting to take their spot. Power takes awhile to achieve, but one wrong move... and its gone *I snap my finger* just like that... its over! See the difference between you and me is I don't burn the wrong bridges... wouldn't you agree Tommy?."

As Tommy stands behind the man he fires his gun, which at the time had nothing in it. All you heard was a click, which caused Ritchie to freeze and piss himself. He almost broke down as the piss ran down his leg and dripped on the concrete floor.

"See Ritchie, if you are a powerful man... my friend here, who you will meet in a moment just took it all away! You got my point?."

He shakes his head yes, still shaken up by what happened.

"Glad you understand. Tommy! I think its time for you to introduce yourself to the powerful man here."

I stand up and go hand some cash to Tommy's associate for a job well done. As he takes off I let Tommy do his thing.

Thomas walked from behind the man and grabbed Noto's chair, spun it around, straddled it, and sat even closer to Wilkerson. "Yeh see Mr. Wilkerson, we hear yeh have some men think t'ey be wantin' ta testify against my associate Mr. Noto fer tha accident wit' Mr. Phillips. Now you an' I bot' know that Phillips tripped an' fell. John here tried ta save 'im an' missed 'is hand."

Wilkerson seemed to begin growing his balls back at this point, "We both know that's not what happened! He was shoved off the roof. EVERYONE saw it!"

Thomas shook his head, "See, Mr. Phillips tells a much brighter tale of John reachin' ta catch 'im. We even covered tha boyo's medical expenses because we know he's been out o' work. Set up a fund fer his children as well. College, Mr. Wilkerson. T'ey will attend yer finest schools an' become what t'ey want."

Wilkerson spit at Tommy's face and yelled, "JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT TO PHILLIPS, DOESN'T MEAN YOU'LL GET TO ME!"

Hot blooded, Thomas jumped up and put his foot on his chair, shoving it hard and slamming the back end of the seat into Wilkerson's knees. The man howled as his knees were smashed between the wood of the two chairs. "Don'ae yeh see, boyo?! We already have yeh." Thomas wiped his face and slid the chair away again. "We know yeh have about t'ree men wit' yeh that wan' ta testify. I need t'eir names, Richie. Work wit' us an' we can work wit' you."

"Never! Fuck you and your Paragons. And fuck John Noto!"

"Yeh know, t'eir be a sayin' in teh Bible... An' eye fer an' eye. Well, I still need yeh ta talk so I cannae be takin' yer tongue. So since yer lies will be takin' money from us, I'll count it as stealin' for now. Hows about we take a finger fer each question yeh don'ae answer?"

The look on Wilkerson's face was amusing. He perked a brow, "Why don't you just shoot me?"

"Well that wouldn'ae get me what I want, now would it, boyo?" He moved over to his associate and whispered a few things to him and he nodded.

"Sit tight Mr. Wilkerson. We will get back wit' yeh when me associate returns wit' somethin' ta cauterize wit'..."

Thomas and Noto walked outside of the room, leaving Wilkerson to his thoughts and fears for a while...

Outside of the interrogation room...

"What yeh be thinkin' John? Make 'im wait about an' hour or so, let 'im get a bit relaxed an' t'en go back in wit' a bucket o' hot coals?"

Thomas lit up a cigarette as they spoke, listening to the song of Wilkerson's panic in the background.

I light a smoke and hand one to Tommy. He gives me a confused look, as I had recently kicked the habit.

"Kicked the habit a few days back, stress got to me a bit you know?. Hot coal huh?...I like that idea, don't really give a shit what we do to this guy... long as we get all the names we need." I take a puff as Wilkerson was still freaking out in the room.

"Guys got balls! But its only a matter of time before he breaks. Lets have some fun! $100 bucks who ever gets the names first." I nudge Tommy's shoulder and laugh.

Tommy chuckled as Noto offered him a cigarette, the one in his hand already burning. He shrugged and took it anyway. It might be one of those days. "Fockin' stress be nae joke, Noto boy. Yer nae a fockin' spring chicken nae more. Stress be bad fer yer healt' an' shite!" They laughed a bit, before Noto realized Tommy had called him old and he shot the younger man a sidelong glance laced with contempt.

Thomas continued before Noto could say anything, "But tá, tha hot coals be ta cauterize tha wounds I'm gonna be be givin' tha boyo soon... FOCK. I'll be back, Noto. Need ta go to tha hardware store an' get some wire cutters."

Thomas took off down the alley towards the street. "Tell me boy ta keep tha coals hot if 'e beats me back, tá?"

Billie was on her way home when she noticed Tommy exiting a hardware store from across the street. He chucked the paper bag and receipt into a trashcan by the door before slipping... were those wire cutters?... into his pocket, and pulling his greatcoat tight around his neck. He walked with purpose... and a hint of suspicion. Something was about to go down. Never one to skip out on a party or on useful information, Billie kicked off her mary janes and proceeded to trail him for a few blocks and down a back alley; carrying her shoes so that their pitter-patter didn't echo off the brick or cement and give her away. Pausing just around the corner, she slipped her heals back on, trying not to chuckle as she heard two very familiar voices whispering above... was that sobbing? Oh this could be good. 

Smiling her best, she rounded the corner and approached Thomas and Noto with a mischievous grin. Noto was mid-sentence, plotting something beautiful, no doubt. So Billie didn't interrupt, simply arching a brow at Thomas instead. 'Wilkerson' the Irishman mouthed, and Billie nodded; her knowing smile growing. Pressing a finger to her lips she stepped silently between the two men and into the building, looking like she owned the place - as usual. 

As she ducked through the door of a decrepit and dilapidated warehouse, her eyes surveyed the sparse room. A single bare bulb swung from a cable above two wooden chairs; a small table to one side, bare concrete floors with built in drainage, a bucket, and little else. Not her usual arena, but it would do. As Billie approached the poor sobbing sot tied down in the middle of the room, she ignored the spare chair - opting instead to straddle the man's lap. Close quarters were more her cup of tea. Sliding her dress up her thighs ever so slightly she lowered herself onto Wilkerson's lap with a soft, motherly shooshing. Petting his face, she ran a hand through his hair, smiling sweetly up at him. 

"Shh, shh, shhh. There's no need for all this blubbering, Richie, dear." She draped one arm over his shoulders, "Everyone knows these dogs are on my leash," she bluffed, "I can call them off if you will just tell me we can smoothe all this over." The man looked at her incredulously, his expression a mixture of fear, disbelief, and contempt. He opened his mouth to speak, hate and loathing colouring his features, but Billie continued her shooshing; still petting his face. "ah, ah, ah... I know sweet Mr. Phillips has been good to you, Richie." She caressed his cheek with hers, "We can be good to you, too. I can be very good to you. If you'll only return the favour." 

Billie pulled away, smiling up into the man's face, "I can make all this mess go awa....." Billie was cut short abruptly as Wilkerson headbutted her, hard; his cheek slamming square into her nose, leaving a bright crimson streak of fresh blood and lipstick there. Billie grunted, but didn't cry out. Instead she tossed her head back with a laugh. But it wasn't her usual tinkle of light melodic laughter. This sound was husky and low, almost maniacal. It was scary... and sort of sexy... but mostly scary. As a numbing warmth slowly spread across her face, she felt the hot gush of blood cross her lips... and she smiled. Holding up a hand to stall the men from rushing in, Billie firmly grabbed hold of the man's jaw, her manicured nails digging into the hollows of his cheeks. With a malevolent grimace she licked the blood from the man's cheek in a single long, taunting stroke, before wrenching his jaw open and kissing him forcefully... blood and all. 

Standing from the chair she shoved his face away from her violently, spitting the remainder of her blood onto his nice, tailored, white suit. Raising her foot to the seat of the chair she dug the heel of her shoe into his groin, grinding into his pelvis as the man cried out in pain. "I offered to play nicely, and this is how you treat me?" She clicked her tongue as the man continued to squirm underfoot. "Richie, darling, I don't think you understand. My friends here are going to take your fingers if you don't talk. Me... I'm going to take so.... much.... more." With each of the words she twisted her foot, digging into the soft sensitive flesh between his legs, making sure they all understood exactly what she meant. Heel still to his junk, she leaned over her knee and turned his face toward Noto. "You see that man? He's mine, and I am his. He would give me anything in the world, which means that you just fucked up, Darling." Her words were venom laced with licorice and malice. "So think long and hard about poor, dear, Mr. Phillips, and how much worse things are going to be for you. And if... IF you make him happy, he might be able to convince me not to hang your cockles from my Christmas tree like an ornament." 

Billie eased off ever so slightly, still smiling that wicked little smile. "Blood and piss looks good on you, Richie. I think this is exactly where you belong. It's perfect for such an insignifiCUNT little fuck." 

With that she finally removed her foot, and turned away. Wilkerson panted and sighed, looking pale and clammy as his gaze followed Billie over to where Noto was standing. Pulling the folded handkerchief from Noto's breast pocket, Billie wiped the blood from her face. Her expression softened, but a fire still burned behind her eyes as they flickered between her two associates. Waving her hand dismissively at the man in the chair she fluffed and primped her curls, trying to look like that didn't hurt as badly as it did -- she likes to think she's a badass, after all. "Make him scream." She said flatly, pulling up an extra chair, and crossing her legs daintily, preparing for the show. 

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself as the scene played out in front of him. Billie was a spitfire from the darkest corners of Hell, he was near certain of it. However, the temptress was finished for now and it was time for the Devils to play. Almost as if it were destiny, Ian returned to the back alley hideaway that was their makeshift playground with a tin bucket of coal.

"Soaked in fluid an' ready fer ya, boss." Ian glanced at Noto as he moved to set the bucket next to Thomas.

"Good on yeh, Ian." Thomas looked at Noto, "Yeh remember Ian, tá? Ol' boyo worked fer Walsh?" He chuckled and slid the bucket of dowsed coals closer to Wilkerson before tossing his lit cigarette into it. The coals smoldered and sizzled for a moment before the fumes ignited, roaring flames licking the air above the bucket. Wilkerson squeaked as the flames reached up. Thomas knelt and stirred them, looking up through the fire to play into that psychology of staring the Devil in the face.

"We can start... T'ese will be hot enough soon." He grinned, the flames making shadows bounce wickedly across his face before he stood and drew his first weapon of choice from his pocket; large wire cutters made to slice cleanly through barbed-wire fences.

Wilkerson grew quite, stared at Thomas a moment, then set his jaw and looked away.

Thomas moved behind the man, just out of his sight, and clipped the cutters near his ear to break his confidence. He yelped and began screaming before he realized they were all laughing at his expense. "So much fer yer tough man act, hi...boyo?" This time was different though. Thomas gripped Wilkerson's hand and stretched his fingers out tight... The wire cutters slipped over Wilkerson's first knuckle of his pinky finger. Richie sat tight as if it were a bluff.

"T'is be yer las' fockin' chance, Richie. Lemme know what I wan', an' yeh can go wit'out more harm."

Nothing but the sound of the hissing coals, crackling fire, and the annoying creak of the swinging solitary light could be heard... Thomas shrugged and, without hesitation, squeezed slow and hard on the wire cutters. Wilkerson quickly began flailing and screaming as the tip of his smallest finger on his left hand separated with a satisfying CRACK as the cutters clipped together through the bone.

Blood squirted and dribbled from the rest of his finger as Thomas knelt and picked up the piece. He held it out in front of Wilkerson, who screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK!? YOU MOTHER FUCKING ASSHOLE! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL..." Richie was cut short as Thomas grabbed the man's face, his fingers catching him where the jaw was connected to his skull. Squeezing tight, Thomas locked Wilkerson's mouth open.

"Bring me some fockin' water..."

Ian was on it quickly and brought a small glass bottle of soda, "Will this do fer ya, boss?" Thomas nodded and took it, "Pinch 'is nose, Ian."

The man did as he was told and Thomas tilted Richie's head back, shoving the finger into his mouth then pouring coke in. Quickly he released Wilkerson's jaw, shoving it shut but not covering his mouth. He was going to force him to drown, or swallow his own evidence.

After a few seconds of fighting for air, gasping, and swallowing, Thomas and Ian released Wilkerson's face, allowing him to breath freely. He coughed and sputtered. "YOU MADE ME SWALLOW IT!"

Not addressing it, Thomas took a coal from the bucket with the wire cutters and touched it to Wilkerson's nub on his pinky, cauterizing it. Richie flailed wildly and screamed in agony as the flesh was seared shut and the bleeding stopped.

After the wound was sealed, Thomas dropped the coal back into the bucket and moved to stand in front of Wilkerson. "Now, I can do t'is twenty-seven more times, just on yer hands... I'll give yeh a chance ta make it stop every one o' them. Gimmie a name, boyo. One name, an' yeh buy yerself fifteen minutes o' rest. Gimme all, an' yeh buy yer freedom. Tell me yer decision when I come back."

Thomas waved his hand at everybody. "Outside, now, leave teh man ta think."

Thomas lit a cigarette as he exited the building, rolling up his sleeves and preparing for a long day. One cigarette would be plenty of time for Wilkerson to make a choice.

Billie stood, creepy little smile still unwavering, and caught Wilkerson's pained gaze. His agony gave her an indescribable sort of pleasure that tickled her deepest parts in unspeakable ways. Smirking at him evilly, she licked her lips before mouthing a single word... "yum." 

Turning on her heels she winked at Noto and fished her cigarettes out of her blouse before following Tommy out the door. Her face hurt. It was time for a smoke.

As smooth Jim found his target was killed, he nodded and smiled in consent. 

Didn't even need a bullet for that paycheck

He said, as he walked away from the scene, lighting his cuban heading for his next target.

Walking outside with Billie and Tommy, I see someone pass by. He was speaking about a target and no bullets, I just assumed he was drunk... or one of the many addicts that walked the district. I turn to Billie and make sure she was ok, I tried not to baby her... she hated that. I then turn to Tommy while joining them in having a smoke.

"Never seen a man swallow his own finger... your a sick man Tommy!" I nudge his shoulder with a playful smirk.

"Billie had me going while she was straddling, then he had to go and fuck it up! But Tommy what do you think?. Think he will spill the names?, I don't think he wants to swallow more fingers. If he don't give the names up, I may have to have some fun... and after what he did to Billie, I may have to much fun!"

I lean against the wall while exhaling the smoke from my mouth, eagerly awaiting to see if Tommy had cracked our friend.

Billie smiled and snuggled into Noto's side. Truth be told, she loved it when he babied her. She just didn't want anyone else to know that, him included; thought it showed too much weakness. Futilely she tried to take a few puffs from her cigarette, but tossed it away quickly. It was unpleasant and difficult, because she couldn't breathe. Gently feeling her face with one hand, she winced audibly. Her nose was definitely broken... bastard. She tried to apply pressure, but only managed a soft yelp and some wiggles as needles spread all the way into her eyes. There was no way she could do this by herself... big fucking baby. 

Panting softly she slid over to recline against Noto's chest, looping her arms through his and coaxing him to hold her. It was an overly sugary gesture in comparison to her normal demeanor - at least, if you didn't catch on. Leaning her head back she rested in the hollow of his chest, taking a long slow breath before calling out to her best friend. 

"Tomm-ey, I fink I'm gonna neeb some hewlp over here." Poor thing sounded pitiful as the swelling began to set in. Thomas laughed as he tossed his cigarette away. "S'what ye get for tryin be a baddass, eh lass? Got too close an' got yerself whacked good, hi?" Billie glared back, "I knew dhe risks when I sad down. Now shud ub an' figz id." 

Their snappy demeanor changed quickly as Thomas gently reached to feel Billie poor face. She squirmed and whimpered, doing her best not to move too much - realizing it was necessary but also extremely painful. Tommy just went quiet for a minute as his fingers evaluated the damage in the dim night light. His eyes softened, but his expression hardened, "Oh Mina..." he trailed off. 

She knew that softness in his voice... it was bad. Taking a slow, deep breath she met Tommy's gaze and pressed herself back against her lover. "He's got me." she nodded, more to reassure herself than either of them, and knotted her fingers into tiny fists around Noto's coat... that would need ironing tomorrow. With another deep breath she nodded again. "Id's nod my firs', Tomm-ey. Jus' do id. Go!" 

Noto slackened a little, seeming ready to protest, but Billies fingers dug into his thigh, twisting the fabric of his pristine slacks into a creased and wrinkled mess. She pressed herself back against him. This was happening whether he liked it or not. Better man up, because Thomas wasted no time, immediately grabbing her face with as much force as he could manage before she could change her mind. He had to reset her nose twice to align the damage that had been done. And he grimaced visibly Billie tried not to squirm and scream. She gasped softly at first, but pressed her lips together and sort of hummed(?) instead. Typical. 

Everything in her told her to scream, as white-hot pins and needles assaulted her face and senses. But she knew better. And fragile as she might be, she was a stubborn little cunt. Any sound from her at all, and it might just bolster Wilkerson's confidence. No. she wouldn't give him the satisfaction, or the excuse. Suddenly the world went black. Her head lolled a little a two small pops echoed like a child's toy gun down the dark alley. 

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, Thomas shooshed her softly as he pet her face - trying to pull her attention back to the world. "Ey, ey, ey. It's done. Mina. It's done. Yer alrigh'." She blinked a few times as Noto pulled her close, hugging her tightly. She wasn't limp. So she hadn't passed out, but damned if she hadn't come precariously close. She whimpered softly, nodding as she turned to snuggle her face into Noto's chest, hugging him like a teddy bear. 

"Thank you, Tommy." she said softly, not really caring if either of them heard the weary, lingering echo of pain in her voice. "You might be a sick bastard, but you're a good man," she chuckled softly, before turning her face up to Noto and mouthing -- because GOD FORBID anyone ever hear her say it aloud -- 'and you're my hero'. She took a few moment like that, all snugly and vulnerable (a rare sight indeed) before turning her attention outward once again. With a stubborn little click of her heels she made for the door, "Enough fucking around. Let's get this show on the road!"

...And suddenly normal Billie was back. Crazy bitch.  

We all walked back into the room, Wilkerson was still shaken up. Also looked a little grossed out while he was trying to digest his finger. As I walked in the room I looked calm, but inside I was irate! I was not pissed at Tommy, he did what he had to... but seeing Billie's nose get put back in place really set me off. Tommy was going to calmly ask Wilkerson if he made his mind up yet. Instead in a fit of rage I took my pistol out and used the bottom of the handle to crack Wilkerson in the bridge of the nose. He screamed in pain as blood started to ooze from his nose. Giving him no time to process the pain I simply reply "oh that nose looks terrible! Let me fix that!"

One quick motion and I snap it back into place. Wilkerson at this point looked like he was on the verge of passing out. Tommy thought the same so he slapped him a few times to keep his attention. I rear back as if I was going to smash him in the nose again.

"GIVE ME THE FUCKING NAMES! OR ILL BREAK IT AGAIN!"

He yells out "Stanley Thompson!"

I now turn the gun around and aim t at his forehead while asking for the other two names. He tells me that's the only name he knows. With my gun still aiming at his face I reply.

"Really? You still want to fuck with me?... Tommy, your up! We need two more names, and Mr.Wilkerson I know there is at least two more. My friend Tommy here is your last hope... ether work with him or ill just kill you now! I dare you to test me!"

I use my gun to motion Tommy to talk to Wilkerson.

Noto's display was pleasing and Thomas smiled as he strolled back up to Wilkerson. The spare chair was drug around in front of Wilkerson and Thomas slipped out of his suspenders, pulling off his pretty, white shirt. He began wiping the blood from Wilkerson's face, almost caring for him it seemed. Wilkerson was crying, and blood was running.

"Yer doin' just fine, boyo. Noto been a bit overzealous, but yeh earned yerself a few minutes ta relax..." He trailed off and continued wiping before yelling at Ian, "BRING ME ICE!"

Ian nodded and turned for the door.

Thomas continued to help Wilkerson clean up. Noto was probably confused, but according to Thomas' rules of engagement, Wilkerson had earned his short lived reprieve.

With his shirt completely soaked in blood, Thomas tossed it in the bucket of hot coals. He sat back down and looked at Wilkerson.

"Ian will be back wit' some ice fer yer face in a bit. It will help." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and pulling out his cigarettes. After lighting one, he offered to Wilkerson who nodded. Thomas slipped the cigarette in the mans mouth and lit it.

"Yeh wanna give me anot'er name before yer break be up?" Wilkerson puffed the cigarette loosely in his mouth.

"I don't know any more names... Really, Stanley Thompson is the only one!"

Thomas sighed and shook his head, "See laddie, I know tha's just nae true. Yeh have till that cigarette is done. Yeh give me anot'er name, an' t'is can be over."

Ian returned with a bucket of ice and Thomas looked at the shirt he'd thrown in the fire; he probably should have kept and used that for the ice. He grabbed a handful and held it to the bridge of Wilkerson's nose and the man hissed from the cold, but he nodded. "You were right, it feels nice."

After a few moments, and the last ashes of the cigarette falling from both Thomas' and Wilkerson's, Thomas stood.

"Las' chance again, boyo. Anot'er name..."

Wilkerson began to protest again that he didn't know another name. Thomas shook his head, "Wrong answer, lad." He took Wilkerson's hand and placed the wire cutters just below where he'd made the first cut. Wilkerson began yelling and flailing. Thomas quickly snipped through the bone again and cauterized the wound.

"Yeh can give me a name, or swallow anot'er bit o' yer finger, lad." Thomas held it in front of Wilkerson, who through sobs said something inaudible.

"Am sorry, lad, what was that?"

Wilkerson screamed, "FRANKIE PULUCCI! Frankie Pulu-hu-hu-cci..." he sobbed almost uncontrollably.

Thomas nodded, "Yeh go' a chance here, Wilkerson... yeh can end t'is or get fifteen minutes o' time."

"I swear, that's all I know!"

"Yeh said that earlier too. I don'ae believe yeh. Fifteen minutes."

Thomas tossed the piece of finger into the fire. He'd saved himself from ingesting it this time.

As Thomas and the others headed for the door again, Wilkerson called out, "WAIT! WAIT!" Thomas paused and turned to look him over, "Am listenin'... Boyo."

"Edgar Worthington... That's all of them. Stanley Thompson, Frankie Pulucci, Edgar Worthington."

Thomas nodded. "Fifteen minutes." He ushered Billie, Noto, and Ian outside to the screams and howls of Wilkerson. "YOU LIAR! YOU SAID THIS WOULD BE OVER! YOU FUCKING LIAR! YOU SAID I'D BE FREE! YOU FUCKING LIED T..." The door shut as the man screamed and his voice became less noticeable. Thomas pulled out his cigarettes, standing and visibly shaking from the cold but not so much as to draw attention. Ian offered his jacket and Thomas accepted, wrapping it over his arms and lighting the cigarette.

"So, he gets fifteen minutes ta think about nae tellin' me when I offered... An' t'en we can go in an' let yeh play." He looked at Noto, signifying who he meant. "Nae kill 'im though. T'eir be one more thing I think all o' yeh be happy ta hear when I get me las' turn." Thomas grinned happily... Happily, did that make him more twisted than he should be?

Billie squealed, giggling and clapping softly to herself as Wilkerson was paid tit for tat. Her curls ricocheted lightly around her face, several falling free of the elastic and bobby pins usually that usually held them firm, as she bounced on the spot. It should have been creepy, how happy that made her. She stopped dancing as Thomas removed his shirt, a husky chuckle replacing her childlike glee. This was gonna be goood. 

She circled the men as Thomas worked his grizzly magic; prowling the room like a lioness on the hunt, her eyes scrutinizing and devouring every calculated action and detail with a keen and almost reverent ravenousness. She was reveling and admiring style. But more than that, she was learning. Her education was halted abruptly, however, as Wilkerson quickly divulged the two remaining names. 

With a soft pout she followed the men outside. But ass she lit her cigarette the pout disappeared and melted in to an amused giggle. Thomas was cold, shivering. His nipples were hard, and she couldn't help but notice. In fact she even blushed a little... an odd reaction for someone so customarily brash and crass. Trying her best not to laugh about it, she finished her cigarette. Bouncing a little to shake away the cold she hovered by the door expectantly, excited to see how this all played and witness whatever Thomas had planned. 

Standing there as smoke exited my mouth from the frigid cold, I pondered for a moment before removing my jacket and wrapping it around Billie. I look around to make sure no one was around before talking to both Billie and Tommy.

"Although it is my turn I think its time to wrap this gig up! I am eager to see what you have planned Tommy, so when we go back inside do your thing. After that we need to strike the 3 targets quick, I think the best way would be to split up and take one a piece. Ill take care of Stanley, as far as the other two... you both can decide on who you want to take out."

I get a $100 bill and hand it to Tommy.

"Looks like you won the bet! Got more names then I did" I place my hand on Tommy's shoulder "One more thing Tommy... we don't need loose ends. So after your finale in there... Wilkerson needs to go!"

Thomas looked at Noto, "Did yeh think he was ever gonna be a loose end? What exactly did yeh think his 'freedom' was?" A smile cracked across Tommy's lips as he took the $100.00. Billie stepped out of the way and Thomas opened the door to walk in first. There it was, Wilkerson's shouting still going on. As the four walked back in, Richie Wilkerson quieted a bit.

"A-... Am I free? You said I would be free if I gave you the names. I gave you everyone." Thomas smiled.

"I gave yeh fifteen minutes o' reprieve. Yeh lied ta me, ta me friends. Yeh told me yeh knew nae one. Then only one, only two... Yeh were granted fifteen minutes after two. When we went ta leave yeh fer yer rest yeh screamed a t'ird name. Voluntarily. T'is was not part o' our deal."

Wilkerson began sobbing and begging, "Nooo... No-no-no-no-noooo-ho. You... You can't do-hoo-hoo this to m-m-me-hee-hee." Sobbing greatly, his chest heaved as he continued. "Pl-please... I swear t-th-that I won't sa-say anything..."

Thomas continued to hold his smile. "I know yeh willn'ae speak, Richie. I know." He moved closer and placed his hand on the man's head. "It be alllll over soon fer yeh. Just gonna remind yeh why yeh won't."

Thomas kicked the chair over on it's side, Wilkerson's head smacking into the cold concrete beneath him as he landed on his side. Walking back to grab more of the fluid that had originally soaked the coals, Thomas dumped more into the bucket. The heat from the smoldering embers ignited with the added fuel. Sliding the burning bucket closer to Wilkerson's head, Thomas looked back at the others as Wilkerson protested. With his foot on the edge of the tin bucket housing to burning coals, Thomas tipped the bucket over and sent the fire to Richie's face. The man began screaming in horror as his flesh seared on one side. His body flailed as much as possible in the restrained position to the chair and Thomas moved behind him, pressing his boot onto the back of Wilkerson's head.

"T'is is what happens when yeh don'ae work wit' me tha way I want, Richie. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TA LIT'L FOCKS LIKE YERSELF! YEH TRY AND BEAT THA DOG, YEH GET EATEN, BOYO!"

Wilkerson continued to scream in agony as his face quite literally was cooked to a crisp, Thomas' foot holding him against the coals. Crackling, sizzling, popping, all sounds that could be heard as Wilkerson was literally roasted alive. Thomas finally kicked the coals away, half of Wilkerson's face all that was left. He'd passed out, but was still slightly breathing, labored. Waving Ian over, the two stood Wilkerson's chair back up. Thomas shook his head, "This is why yeh don'ae cross Tommy O'Shannon, or anyone he holds dear, lad."

Thomas pulled his gun and blew out the back of Wilkerson's head, point blank. The body slumped and Thomas holstered his weapon, turned, and walked for the door. "Ian, yeh know yer job. Noto, take yer man an' go. I'll take tha wop Pulucci. Billie, choose if yeh want tha ot'er focker. If nae, I'll kill 'im." He headed out the door for a cigarette.

As Billie decided on what she was going to do, I look to Tommy. "While you two figure out the details I am going for Thompson! Right now! We can meet back at the hotel when this is over." I wasted no time getting started.

Hit #1 Stanley Thompson

3 hours later...

After doing a little research I managed to track Thompson down. He was in Corktown, DT having a few drinks at a place called Rocco's Tavern. I was told he drove a 1929 Buick 4 door sedan, which I noticed immediately because it stuck out like a sore thumb. I wasn't sure how much time I had, so I climbed into the backseat of the Buick, wedging myself against the back of the front seats. I placed some plugs in my ears and had my colt 1911 ready.

After almost an hour I finally heard the door to the driver seat open, followed by the passenger door... at this point I was going were ever they were going. Only reassuring thing was the friend in the passenger seat who was half in the bag made a comment and said Stanley's name. The vehicle now was in motion, as we ended up driving about 5 minutes to Stanley's house. Only knew that because the two assholes talked the whole way there... mostly about Stanley testifying which made me want to shoot him before we even reached the house.

As the two exit the vehicle, Stanley and Edgar... who's name I overheard on the ride over, made their way into Stanley's house. Many of my limbs were numb at this point, but I managed to squeeze out the back seat and into a window in the side of the house. I treaded lightly as I reached the kitchen. I posted against the wall and checked my gun to make sure noting could go wrong. They both sat at the table with a bottle of Whiskey, and a deck of cards... both laughing their ass off. I assume they wanted to continue the party at Stanley's, which I could not allow at my expense.

I quickly rounded the corner, colt 1911 in hand. I fire the first shot at Stanley who was sitting to the left. It struck him in the side of the temple which caused him and the chair to tip to the floor. With a quick motion I swing my pistol to the right and fire, striking Edgar in the throat. As he placed both hands over his neck trying to breath, I fired two more shots into Stanley's torso. As I look around quick to make sure no one else was in the house, Edgar fell off the chair and backed into the bottom cabinets of the kitchen... still holding a hand over his throat, doing everything he could to hang on.

I walk over to him and point the pistol at his face. He sticks the arm that wasn't holding his throat up in the air and try's to get me to show mercy. "Sorry Edgar...can't have loose ends! I fire one last shot that strikes him in the forehead. Room goes silent, all you can hear was the shot ring out and the bullet casing hit the floor. After the two were taken care of I made my way outside, realizing my car was back at the tavern.

I was going to set the house ablaze, but decided not to in case a young child or a women was inside hiding. I walked back to the tavern... using that time to clear my head. Finally I reached my car and drove back to the hotel. I sat in my office and had a drink while waiting for conformation from Tommy and Billie on the other two targets.

Thomas nodded as Noto went to leave. "Yeh do yer t'ing, we'll meet back wit' yeh."

He turned to Billie and looked her over. "Am gonna go an' find Mr. Pulucci. Have Ian drive yeh an, whate'er yeh choose, meet back at tha Tower. If yeh choose ta nae go after Worthington, just let us know an' we will take care o' it." Thomas headed off down the alley, hurriedly...

Hit #2 Frankie Pulucci

1 hour later...

Thomas had made his way back to his flat to get a change of clothes... Washing his face and hands, nails especially, Thomas donned a new suit and headed out the door quickly. He needed to get in contact with some people and find some information on this Frankie Pulucci. He hopped on to the street car near his flat and rode into Downtown, stopping near the police station and waited in the shadows of the trees and streetlamps for one of his agents to walk out of the precinct building. Sure enough, it wasn't but half an hour and half a pack of cigarettes later that Officer Fioritto walked out. Thomas whistled loudly and the badge turned. Seeing Thomas, he immediately looked toward the building, then around, and made his way over. "What the hell do you thin..." he began to whisper but was cut short as Thomas grabbed him by the arm and directed him quickly around the corner and down a back alley.

"Tommy, what are you DOING?" Fioritto asked as they finally paused their brisk walk. "We need ta talk, Ben," Thomas whispered. "Privately."

Looking around again, Thomas jimmied the door in the alley they stood next to and walked inside, Officer Fioritto following. "What the fuck is it about this time? You need me to make sure we're looking the other way for some big transaction or something? You got it. But I need to get out on my patrol. My partner is waiting for me to relieve him." Thomas chuckled and added, "I bet 'e is, yeh fock pansy boyo."

Fioritto huffed angrily, "Why I outta..."

"Yeh outta wha', lad? Yeh gonna shoot me? Who's gonna make sure yer kid gets in ta tha school she wants? Sure as fock nae you. Who else is gonna keep yer wankin' secret wit' yeh an' that fock Inga Bartelt? Nae one, so shut yer fockin' mouth an' listen. I need ta know if yeh know a Frankie Pulucci... Worked wit' Phillips before tha Tower put them out o' business?" Thomas stared at the slightly shorter Officer who eased up after he realized Tommy just wanted to know about someone.

"Oh... Yeah, I know Frankie. I go and play cards over at his house on the weekends. He lives over on the north side of town. Little house on Melbourne Street. Drives one of those fancy Model A cars. Probably the only one on the block. Actually, he should be having a small get together tonight. He and the other boys play some poker and drink. We turn our cheek for a night and let them do their thing. No harm no foul, yeah?"

Thomas nodded, "T'anks Ben, yeh don'ae know how much help yeh been o'er tha last mont'. I hear they be given yeh some shit about how much yeh be doin' fer me lately. Hear they be wantin' ta force yeh ta retire? That true, lad?"

Fioritto sighed and nodded, "Yeah, actually want me to turn in my badge after this last patrol tonight. Tommy, i don't know what I'm gonna do for my kids, my family..."

Thomas grabbed the man's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Why don' yeh let me worry about yer family, Ben? T'ey will be just fine. I'll see what I can do about yer job. Now, go on an' get to it before t'ey fire yeh tanight." The two shared a laugh, and as Ben turned away and put his hand on the door to leave, Thomas pulled his gun out and put a bullet in the corrupt agent's head. "Nae worry, boyo. Yeh were killed in a robbery. Yeh scared tha robbers, they shot yeh, but they ran an' left everythin'. Yer gonna be a hero, an' yer family will be taken care o', I promise that. Now rest yer weary head, lad. Go join yer lover Bartelt, God rest yer souls fer nae knowin' he was dead too." Thomas placed a gloved hand on the dead Fioritto's back and gave it a pat before heading out the door and leaving him there. He had a job to do, and needed to get to Melbourne Street.

He walked back to the street and waved at a car, "TAXI!"

521 Melbourne Street - 1:53 AM

Thomas tipped the cab driver and hopped out. He knew he was nearby, he could hear loud yelling and lively chatter. There was definitely an alcohol driven party nearby. He made his way between houses on the block, until he stumbled upon what seemed like where the chatter was coming from. A few men were outside of the house smoking cigarettes and drinking something, a record player played inside, windows were open so it could be heard inside and out. Neighbors yelled about noise, but no cops would come. Frankie Pulucci paid them well enough to stay away. A few more gentlemen stumbled around inside the house.

Thomas sat outside, hidden away in some bushes across the street from the lively house. He slipped his silencer from the pocket of his jacket and screwed it on to the end of his Colt 1911. Patiently he would wait until he had confirmation on his target. What felt like maybe only ten minutes, a single car drove up and two men got out.

-This might be my chance...- Thomas thought. He steadied his gun and waited, a few men stepping out of the house. "FRANKIE! NEPHEW!" one of the men from the car said and flung his arms open for a hug, no... A kiss, on both cheeks. Thomas frowned. This could be worse than he'd hoped. Time to be an excellent shot...

As Frankie hugged the gentleman, Thomas lined up his shot... Then he saw it. The man that gave Frankie a hug, stabbed him in the neck.

"I hear you're going to testify against the Paragons? I can't let you do that you fucking little prick. I can't have dirty laundry with them. Fuck no, they run this city. Your little stunt would make me a target! The whole Pulucci clan could be wiped out! Frankie! I loved you! You were a great nephew. But I can't allow this to happen. Not now." The other men who had come outside with Frankie were gunned down by the second man who walked inside. A professional killer, he went through the house and left no one.

As he exited the house, he tapped the first gentleman on the shoulder. "We should go, quickly, Mr. Pulucci." Thomas didn't care, his gun raised up and with three shots, the two other men dropped. He stepped out from the bushes and looked before jogging across the street. As he got closer, the first gentleman was wheezing. Thomas knelt and looked at him.

"Mr. Pulucci. I apologize fer bad timing, but tha Paragons were here ta deal with yer nephew. Yeh unfortunately walked into a situation that put me family at risk. I only do t'is ta protect tha Paragons, an' Detroit, from scum like you an' yer family." Thomas placed the barrel of the silenced pistol to Mr. Pulucci's head, the man still wheezing, "I give yeh release from a slow death..." He squeezed the trigger, silencing the man's breathing. He stood and walked over to Frankie who had bled out onto his front lawn quickly from the alcohol in his system, and shot him in the chest until his clip was empty. Just for good measure. Turning from the scene, Thomas unscrewed the suppressor from his gun and holstered the gun, holding on to the silencer in his gloved hand until it cooled enough to put it in his pocket. He began to walk, knowing it would be a long hike back to a busy street corner to catch a cab.

Paragon Tower - 4:26 AM

Thomas strolled into the lobby of the Tower and headed straight for Noto's office... He opened the door and sat, pouring himself a drink as Noto looked on expectantly.

"Pulucci is done..."

That was all Thomas said, before taking a drink and sitting in silence with Noto.

Billie wasn't far behind, scurrying down the alley back toward downtown.  "You should know better, Tommy. I carry my own weight." Taking a turn toward the tower she winked playfully,  "I need to visit a janitor about a mess that needs cleaning up. I'll meet you back at the Tower when I'm done." With that she hurried down the street, heels clicking softly against the pavement. 

Billie entered the Tower and walked straight to the desk, "Linda, Mr. Phillips is on duty tonight, isn't he?" The woman nodded silently, her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Perfect," Billie smiled, "Send him to my room immediately. I have a small... issue... that needs seeing to." Linda nodded quietly and punched in her room number on the call button as Billie walked away toward the elevator. 

The ride up was painfully slow and miserable. Her heart was pounding, flooding her system with adrenaline and driving her temperature through the roof. By the time she reached her room Billie was sure she could have comfortably performed this hit butt naked for all the sweat the trickled, in rivulets, down her chest. Leaving the door cracked open for her soon-to-be guest, she went first and shoved her head as far as she could fit it into the mini-fridge behind the bar, hoping to regain some sense of normality. It was no use. Slamming the small door with a heavy sigh, she plopped into one of the chairs by her fireplace and waited. Phillips was only a few moments behind, slinking through the open like a child entering the principal's office. 

Billie smiled, "Sit, sit, you crotchety old fucker,"  Billie joked lightly. Phillips slid into the chair opposite her looking clammy and flushed - well, that made two of them. "Calm down, you old coot," she said, still smiling. You're not here for you. The man seemed to relax a bit, but only a bit, as Billie continued to smile at him. "Now, I'm assuming you know how this works." She eyed the man with a telling stare. He simply gulped and nodded his head. "Good. We can make this meeting very easy on each other, then," she cooed, standing to circle his chair. Draping her arms over his shoulders she leant over to caress his cheek. "You will walk out of here, my darling pet. I just need a little something from you first." Billie pet the man's head with a condescending smirk, "You see when a master tells their pet to bark, what do you think the pet does?"  she smiled at him wickedly as he stammered hoarsely, "ba..b...bark!" 

Billie patted him tenderly, "Oh you're so good at this. Yes. You'll walk out of here just fine."  She leaned over again, placing her mouth next to his ear. "I need you to bark for me, my darling pet."  Old man Phillips yipped, not unlike a chihuahua, and Billie laughed out loud. "Very good," she crooned, "but that's not the bark I need. There's a man who used to work for you - a Mr. Edgar Worthington. He wasn't very good to you, was he?" Phillips shook his head emphatically. "I know. I know," Billie continued with her soft cooing in his ear, "He stole from you, and he was... inappropriate with Margi. Wasn't he?" Phillips eyed grew wide, his head whipping around to meet her gaze, "How did you..." Billie shooshed him tenderly, "I have eyes, my pet. And I am very fond of Margi. I will always look out for her. Just like I've been looking out for you. Now, you want Mr. Worthington to pay for mistreating your little girl don't you?" 

Phillips' eyes grew dark and treacherous. He nodded, just once, holding Billie's gaze. "Good," Billie said, her voice turning serious. "I'm going to make this happen for you, and for Margi. But I need a location." Phillips looked down at his watch, "Penguin's Pub. It's a..." Billie cut him off abruptly, already heading for the door. "I know the place. It's a beacon for his kind." She shooed him out the door and locked it behind her, sticking her finger in his face before he could walk away, "Not a word to anyone about my helping you." She didn't even need to threaten him. Phillips simply nodded, "Have a good evening, Ms. Faegan," he smiled, whistling as he walked away to continue his night shift. She might make something useful out of him yet...

Hit #3 Edgar Worthington

Penguin's Pub - 27 minutes later

Billie thought she entered the pub quietly, but as soon as her heels hit the tile the whole room went silent save for one man. Everyone's gaze flickered between the small silhouette framed in the doorway by the quickly fading evening light and the drunkard at the bar yelling slurred curses about "John mother fucking, c*ck sucking, crook-ass Noto".  The atmosphere was so thick, you'd have needed a blow torch to slice through it. Billie took a moment to assess the situation. She could go in guns blazing, and no one here would likely say a thing... but she did have such a love affair with strategic subtlety. Shrugging softly to herself she approached the bar slowly, placing a hand on Worthington's shoulder. He jumped when he saw her face, and nearly fell off his bar stool trying to stumble backwards. 

He stammered incoherently, but Billie just smiled. "Don't worry. Don't worry. Shh. STOP," she implored him, pleading rather than yelling. She put on her best desperate face and shrank a little like a wilted flower, clinging to his shoulders and begging for him to listen. The silence around the place buzzed a little with murmuring and whispers. "You're right!" Billie hissed, just loudly enough for everyone to hear her, and Edgar blinked. In typical Billie style, she spun the tale of a damsel in distress; helpless and being held captive in a tower. Edgar, of course, lapped it up because it meant HE would be the valiant - albeit unquestioning - saviour. 

Men were so gullible. So typical. No one ever wanted to give her the credit she deserved, believe that she could hold her own in this thing, be as powerful and as brutal and as deadly efficient as any family man. It made her sick. And angry. Loathing roiled in the pit of her stomach as Worthington played right into her hands; the drunken slob wrapping his grotesquely sweaty arms around her as he stammered about how 'safe' his house would be for her and how well he could 'keep' her. 

There was a switch somewhere in Billie's brain, a clicking feeling that followed the vacant buzzing brought on by men like Worthington. It was always as if something snapped, like a bone that wasn't set properly and continually refractures under pressure. Something turned on, and everything else turned off. Billie eyes went glassy and a little vacant; a sugary, syrupy sweet smile plastered to lips. "I'd like that... I'd like that very much,"  she interrupted Worthington's rambling suddenly. He blinked, and stared at her as if he couldn't believe this was happening. "Why don't we go there now?" she smiled up at him, a hollow tinge echoing around the edges of her husky words. 

"Wh...what?"  the drunken idiot continued to stammer. 

Billie slithered closer to the man, until her face was less than inches away from his, "I'm asking you to take me home, Eddie," she crooned throatily, "I want you to take me back to your house. I'd like to stay there. You can take me away from John Noto and all his hard... rough... goons. And I would be ever... so... grateful. Take me home, Eddie." 

Again the man nearly tumbled over backwards as he scrambled to leave his seat. Several of the other bar patrons croacked audibly, seeming to want to protest, but a vicious glare from Billie cut them short and their voices died on the bar floor. "My car's out back," Billie cooed, directing the man to the back door. 

As soon as the alley door closed behind them Worthington enveloped her. His mouth tasted like stale beer and capers, his stubbled grating like sandpaper against her soft skin. "I'm going to take such... good... care of you," he insisted huskily, reaching with sausage like fingers to spread her thighs. Billie turned her face away, cringing as he continued his assault on her neck. Quietly she waited, biding her time until... yep... "What the fuck is this?" Worthington pulled back, looking befuddled and confused as his fingers found the loaded garter holster cinched around her right thigh. Bille smiled; always so predictable. 

With a wicked smiled Billie wrenched the .380 from its holster under her blouse, jamming into the soft hollow beneath the man's jaw. Walking him backwards, he pinned him against her car... well, the car that Noto let her use. "You really think for one fucking second that I would ever lower myself to be had by a man like you?" she hissed, all the rage of her life boiling out all at once. "You are a pathetic, loathsome, useless, blundering excuse of a man. You're a stain on this city." 

The poor sot tried to protest, tried to beg for his life, but Billie only forced the gun more violently into the softness of his skin. "My family is raising Detroit up from the dust, and you would rather drink away hard earned taxpayer money than help us. You think we're the bad guys... but it's YOU. It's men like YOU that drain this city dry of any sparkle of life, of any promise of dignity and autonomy. You're so small, Eddie. Too small to think about anything but yourself. Even when you do something good, it's selfish; only for the reward money. You couldn't make something of yourself if you tried." 

Billie sniffled, her nose running from the cold that she couldn't feel. "But it's okay, Eddie. Because I'm going to make something outta you." She laughed maniacally; an empty, hollow sound. Poor Eddie was bawling by this point; tears and snot streaming down his face as he sobbed and sniffled. "Look at me, Eddie. Look me in the eyes like a man." He met her gaze, but shakily and filled with tears.  "John and I, we're going to build an empire. You understand?" Eddie melted a little, realizing there was really no way out. "Ah, ah, ah." Billie scalded, like a school marm, forcing his face up with the barrel of her gun. She wanted to look into his eyes. "We're gonna build an empire," she said, pressing in close to him like a lover, "And you're going to help me. Because I..." she paused to hold his gaze, "I'm gonna make an example out of you." 

The man's knees went weak, and his head lolled back as he sobbed. He tried to collapse down the side of the car, but Billie's knee in his groin and the gun beneath his chin kept him straight. "In just a minute I'm gonna blow your brains all over my beautiful little Cadillac. And everyone in that bar is going to hear the shot. But no one's gonna come running, Eddie. No one's gonna come help you. They'll let your sorry sack of shit body lay in this alley, cold and dead, until tomorrow morning. Because everyone else knows... you don't fuck with the Paragons. You don't fuck with John. And you DON'T fuck with me." She smiled as the man pleaded with her, "Everyone's gonna remember that because of you, Eddie. And I'll remember you too. I promise." she kissed his cheek tenderly, whispering into his ear, "When I make love to John tonight, I'll remember you; sniveling, and filthy, and begging, lying in the streets with the rats and the dogs, exactly where you belong. I'll remember your face just like it is right now, right before I..."

Billie leaned in and kissed the man with a low moan of release as the loud, cracking bang of a small calibre pistol pierced the night. Silence so thick you couldn't even cut it with a knife fell over Penguin's Pub again as she silently sped off into the night. 

Paragon Tower - 4:32 AM

Billie parked the Caddy around back and snuck in the maintenance entrance. She was covered in blood and muck from the brain-shower she'd taken with Edgar Worthington. Slipping silently into the waiting from a side exit, she tapped quietly on Noto's office door before slipping in; looking a hot mess. She grinned sheepishly at the men in the office. Did she really need to confirm her kill? 

Noto looked worried and Thomas looked amused as she reached over and - as always - stole Noto's drink from the desk, shrugging with a gleeful smile.  

I sit in shock for moment before responding.

"I assume everyone is now dealt with?! Billie sweetie you can keep that drink, I love you but I don't love Edgar, and it looks like you have some of him on you."

I pour myself another drink, as I walk in between Billie and Tommy.

"So looks like we are in the clear. Couldn't of done it without you guys! A toast... to you guys, to the paragons... and to a bright future. Cheers!"

We clink our glasses together, relaxing after a long night.