Green Cheese #11, Heavenly Hash #6 + fresh peaches + cherry
Story: Blaze Mafia Family
Title: I Know Love
Prompts: Green Cheese #11: (super)nova, Heavenly Hash #6: fall from grace + fresh peaches (Other people are quite malleable, so you should take the lead in just about any situation) cherry (I'm pretty sure I don't normally fit this many curse words into a piece!)
Rating: R for violence and a great many f-bombs
Words: 986
Characters: Paul Robinson, Soul Wade, Felix Wade, Griffin Blaze, Draven’s Mafia
Summary: Happening two floors down and five minutes before The Influence of a King With the Power of a Queen. I don’t think I’ve mentioned Griffin before now, probably because he’s the unfortunate one in the family. He’s Draven’s oldest, and he sided with his father during the coup. This is what happens to him and all the other soldiers that sided with Draven.
“You’re such a little bitch, you know that?” Griffin spat at Paul, the gob of saliva landing on his pant leg. “You follow a little girl around and you still walk around like you’ve got the biggest fuckin’ dick in the whole Family.”
Paul smirked. “The truth speaks for itself.”
Griffin punched Paul in the gut, making the bigger man gasp and lean forward in the chair he was shackled to. Griffin grabbed Paul’s chin and pushed his head back up. “You’re fuckin’ nothing. Just a stupid fuckin’ bodyguard for a stupid fuckin’ girl that’s gonna be dead soon. Firebird’s gonna get snuffed and there’s not a damn thing that you can do about it. Not so fuckin’ great at your job, are you now?”
Paul sat silent in his chair, stone-faced. Griffin knew he’d struck a nerve. “Oh you don’t like the idea of your little charge’s brains getting blown out across the carpet, do you?” He suddenly backhanded Paul across the face. “Is it cuz you love her, you son of a bitch?”
“You’re such a stupid shit,” Paul spat out a small mouthful of blood. “Why the hell would I be here if I didn’t?”
“Oh, god, that makes you even more pathetic!” Griffin crowed. “You mean to tell me that you knew, you fuckin’ knew, what you were walking into here and you still followed Firebird? Just cuz you’re panting after some fuckin’ pussy? You idiot!”
Soul grimaced from his spot guarding the door. Griffin wasn’t much of a torturer to begin with, but now he was just getting ridiculous. “Paul doesn’t love Firebird like that.”
“Shut the fuck up, Soul,” Griffin snapped back at him. “What the hell would an emotionless bastard like you know about love?”
Soul would have replied but Griffin turned around to face him suddenly. There was something in Griffin’s eyes that Soul recognized. It was the look of a predator, one that had just spotted a weak animal. As well versed as he was in the ways of predators, it was obvious to Soul what was going to happen next. Griffin was going to test that weakness, see if it was great enough that he could attack and destroy it.
“Soul, kill this bastard.”
Soul moved from the door but paused beside Griffin. He looked over at his cousin. “But that’s Paul.”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“Paul’s one of us.”
Griffin glared at Soul, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me our little psychopath is pansying out?”
Soul didn’t answer, just stared at Griffin while he thought the situation over. “If Firebird was in Paul’s chair now, would you want me to kill her too?”
“Fuck no,” Griffin said with a snort.
Soul tilted his head, thoroughly confused, but then Griffin went on.
“I’d kill that stuck-up bitch myself.”
“Ah,” Soul nodded. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Griffin smirked at him while Soul leaned down and pulled a wicked hunting knife out of his boot. “Why? You wanted a piece of that action?”
“No,” Soul said, still crouched down. He looked up at Griffin and smiled in anticipation. “I want a piece of this action.”
Soul’s knife plunged into Griffin’s torso, angled upwards so it slid smoothly underneath his ribs and shredded the delicate organs hidden behind the bone cage. Soul grabbed Griffin and held him up while he pulled the knife out, relishing the spurt of blood that splashed onto his hand as he did so.
“I may be a bastard, but I’m not emotionless. I know love,” Soul murmured into Griffin’s ear. He set the knife over Griffin’s heart, pressing ever so softly into his shirt. “I love Felix, my dad... and Firebird.”
Griffin tried to say something, but Soul stopped him with one swift thrust of his knife. Blood gurgled up out of Griffin’s open mouth and Soul twisted the knife then pulled it out and dropped his cousin’s body, dead before it hit the ground.
“I don’t love you,” he told the body.
“Yeah that’s pretty clear to him now,” Paul piped up. Soul looked over at the big man, free of the handcuffs and standing over the two dead soldiers that had been containing him. It had been Soul’s job to make sure the lock on the handcuffs was broken and to kill Griffin if he deemed it necessary. Firebird had said Paul would take care of anyone else in the room. She’d been right.
“Are you okay?” Soul asked. He knew a thing or two about torture and nothing Griffin had hit should have messed Paul up too bad, but Paul was the only real judge of the damage done.
“He hits like the pansy ass he was,” Paul shrugged off. He opened the back window and Felix hopped in, holding a duffel bag. “Did you take care of the guards?” Paul asked, reaching for the bag.
Felix rolled his eyes and handed the bag over. “Did you take care of yours?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Paul grumbled. He handed off the Tommy guns and a spare drum magazine off to each of them, then kept the last for himself. The room was quiet except for the clicks and grating of metal as all three of them loaded up their guns.
Soul was the one to break the focused silence. “When do we do it?”
Paul checked his watch. “Now. Firebird’s either ready or she’s not.”
Felix nodded and practically skipped to the door separating them from the main warehouse where all the Blaze soldiers that had chosen Draven’s side, the wrong side, were congregated. They were waiting for Draven to kill Firebird then give the signal to attack the rest of her allies in the family and finish their coup d’état. It was a signal that, if Firebird did her job upstairs and her allies did theirs downstairs, would be neither given nor received.
“Let’s slaughter those bastards.”
Title: I Know Love
Prompts: Green Cheese #11: (super)nova, Heavenly Hash #6: fall from grace + fresh peaches (Other people are quite malleable, so you should take the lead in just about any situation) cherry (I'm pretty sure I don't normally fit this many curse words into a piece!)
Rating: R for violence and a great many f-bombs
Words: 986
Characters: Paul Robinson, Soul Wade, Felix Wade, Griffin Blaze, Draven’s Mafia
Summary: Happening two floors down and five minutes before The Influence of a King With the Power of a Queen. I don’t think I’ve mentioned Griffin before now, probably because he’s the unfortunate one in the family. He’s Draven’s oldest, and he sided with his father during the coup. This is what happens to him and all the other soldiers that sided with Draven.
“You’re such a little bitch, you know that?” Griffin spat at Paul, the gob of saliva landing on his pant leg. “You follow a little girl around and you still walk around like you’ve got the biggest fuckin’ dick in the whole Family.”
Paul smirked. “The truth speaks for itself.”
Griffin punched Paul in the gut, making the bigger man gasp and lean forward in the chair he was shackled to. Griffin grabbed Paul’s chin and pushed his head back up. “You’re fuckin’ nothing. Just a stupid fuckin’ bodyguard for a stupid fuckin’ girl that’s gonna be dead soon. Firebird’s gonna get snuffed and there’s not a damn thing that you can do about it. Not so fuckin’ great at your job, are you now?”
Paul sat silent in his chair, stone-faced. Griffin knew he’d struck a nerve. “Oh you don’t like the idea of your little charge’s brains getting blown out across the carpet, do you?” He suddenly backhanded Paul across the face. “Is it cuz you love her, you son of a bitch?”
“You’re such a stupid shit,” Paul spat out a small mouthful of blood. “Why the hell would I be here if I didn’t?”
“Oh, god, that makes you even more pathetic!” Griffin crowed. “You mean to tell me that you knew, you fuckin’ knew, what you were walking into here and you still followed Firebird? Just cuz you’re panting after some fuckin’ pussy? You idiot!”
Soul grimaced from his spot guarding the door. Griffin wasn’t much of a torturer to begin with, but now he was just getting ridiculous. “Paul doesn’t love Firebird like that.”
“Shut the fuck up, Soul,” Griffin snapped back at him. “What the hell would an emotionless bastard like you know about love?”
Soul would have replied but Griffin turned around to face him suddenly. There was something in Griffin’s eyes that Soul recognized. It was the look of a predator, one that had just spotted a weak animal. As well versed as he was in the ways of predators, it was obvious to Soul what was going to happen next. Griffin was going to test that weakness, see if it was great enough that he could attack and destroy it.
“Soul, kill this bastard.”
Soul moved from the door but paused beside Griffin. He looked over at his cousin. “But that’s Paul.”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“Paul’s one of us.”
Griffin glared at Soul, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me our little psychopath is pansying out?”
Soul didn’t answer, just stared at Griffin while he thought the situation over. “If Firebird was in Paul’s chair now, would you want me to kill her too?”
“Fuck no,” Griffin said with a snort.
Soul tilted his head, thoroughly confused, but then Griffin went on.
“I’d kill that stuck-up bitch myself.”
“Ah,” Soul nodded. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Griffin smirked at him while Soul leaned down and pulled a wicked hunting knife out of his boot. “Why? You wanted a piece of that action?”
“No,” Soul said, still crouched down. He looked up at Griffin and smiled in anticipation. “I want a piece of this action.”
Soul’s knife plunged into Griffin’s torso, angled upwards so it slid smoothly underneath his ribs and shredded the delicate organs hidden behind the bone cage. Soul grabbed Griffin and held him up while he pulled the knife out, relishing the spurt of blood that splashed onto his hand as he did so.
“I may be a bastard, but I’m not emotionless. I know love,” Soul murmured into Griffin’s ear. He set the knife over Griffin’s heart, pressing ever so softly into his shirt. “I love Felix, my dad... and Firebird.”
Griffin tried to say something, but Soul stopped him with one swift thrust of his knife. Blood gurgled up out of Griffin’s open mouth and Soul twisted the knife then pulled it out and dropped his cousin’s body, dead before it hit the ground.
“I don’t love you,” he told the body.
“Yeah that’s pretty clear to him now,” Paul piped up. Soul looked over at the big man, free of the handcuffs and standing over the two dead soldiers that had been containing him. It had been Soul’s job to make sure the lock on the handcuffs was broken and to kill Griffin if he deemed it necessary. Firebird had said Paul would take care of anyone else in the room. She’d been right.
“Are you okay?” Soul asked. He knew a thing or two about torture and nothing Griffin had hit should have messed Paul up too bad, but Paul was the only real judge of the damage done.
“He hits like the pansy ass he was,” Paul shrugged off. He opened the back window and Felix hopped in, holding a duffel bag. “Did you take care of the guards?” Paul asked, reaching for the bag.
Felix rolled his eyes and handed the bag over. “Did you take care of yours?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Paul grumbled. He handed off the Tommy guns and a spare drum magazine off to each of them, then kept the last for himself. The room was quiet except for the clicks and grating of metal as all three of them loaded up their guns.
Soul was the one to break the focused silence. “When do we do it?”
Paul checked his watch. “Now. Firebird’s either ready or she’s not.”
Felix nodded and practically skipped to the door separating them from the main warehouse where all the Blaze soldiers that had chosen Draven’s side, the wrong side, were congregated. They were waiting for Draven to kill Firebird then give the signal to attack the rest of her allies in the family and finish their coup d’état. It was a signal that, if Firebird did her job upstairs and her allies did theirs downstairs, would be neither given nor received.
“Let’s slaughter those bastards.”