Red Currant #9, Mango #6
Story: Blaze Mafia Family
Title: Watch for Ice
Prompts: Red Currant #9: thin ice, Mango #6: you go first
Rating: R for violence
Characters: Firebird Blaze, Paul Robinson, unlucky schmuck #9
Summary: I didn’t mean for this to go on any longer but there are a lot of schmucks that need to be killed so onwards and upwards, Firebird! XD The money WAS in the garden hose...mostly.
In Firebird’s line of work, she came across a great many bimbos with big breasts and greedy eyes. She watched with mild amusement at how easily these women distracted the meanest, scariest men in her Family with their flirtations and kisses, all while they were reaching for the man’s wallet to skim a little green. Firebird was in no way unaccustomed to the greedy wiles of gold diggers, but that didn’t mean that she would tolerate it, especially when it was one thirty in the morning and so damn cold outside that Firebird was starting to wonder if frostbite was a legitimate concern.
“Where is the rest of my money?” Firebird asked the bimbo girlfriend while she tried to stuff a rag into the vodka bottle. It was more difficult than it should have been because her fingers were numb inside her thick gloves. That unfortunate development had a great deal to do with her current torturing technique. The girlfriend was inside her car, handcuffed to the steering wheel, and Firebird almost wished the bimbo wouldn’t talk so she could throw her Molotov cocktail at her. The ensuing bonfire would definitely keep the chill away for awhile and improve her morale tenfold.
Finally she got the rag in and Paul handed her a lighter. Firebird flicked the lighter on and set it close to the rag. The bimbo cried harder, shaking her head wildly. “Crying is not what’s going to keep me from lighting this,” Firebird told her, “If you want to continue living, then tell me where the rest of my money is.”
“I-I don’t kn-kn-know!”
Firebird shook her head. “We found the nicks on the other end of the garden hose where you pulled money out without your boyfriend knowing. A lot of it is gone and I want it back. Now.” Firebird brought the lighter even closer to the rag.
“Wait!” the bimbo screamed. “OK, I’ll tell you! Just don’t kill me!”
“Tell me what I want to know.”
“I-I spent some of it on jewelry.”
Firebird gritted her teeth. How typical. “How much and where’s the jewelry?”
“Uh, like five grand? It’s all in the shoe box on the top shelf of my closet.”
The idiocy of some people never failed to amaze Firebird. Only a fool would steal money from the mafia then buy jewelry with it and put said jewelry in a shoe box.
“What about the rest of the money?”
“I gave it to my brother. H-he’s a gambler. He needed a loan to pay off some guys.”
“What guys?” Firebird snapped. It was entirely possible that her family already had the money, which would mean the last half hour out in the cold had been for nothing. Of course, it was also possible that the brother was paying out to a Lafayette bookie, which would mean the money was as good as gone. Either way, Firebird wasn’t pleased with this turn of events.
“I don’t know! I s-swear! He just said he had to pay some guys!”
Firebird looked carefully at the bimbo for some sort of hint she was lying and saw none. “Alright,” she said to Paul. “Let’s get the jewelry then we’ll find the brother.”
“You still want to throw that?” Paul asked, nodding to the homemade bomb.
She thought about it then flicked the lighter off and sighed, “I want nothing more, but let’s hold off on it in case she’s lying.”
Paul pulled open the car door and uncuffed the woman from the steering wheel. He dragged her out of the car then held her by the arm while he locked her car door and shut it. He looked at his boss with a smirk. “You sure you don’t want to kick her into the river? It wouldn’t be much of a drive, and you’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.”
“I’m so lucky to have a bodyguard with such a hilarious sense of humor,” Firebird grumbled, though her squinty eyed glare at him said she thought otherwise.
Paul glanced over at her to no doubt retort, and the bimbo took advantage of his split attention. She shoved Paul away from her then sprinted towards the street. She’d just taken her first step onto the street when she slipped on a sheet of black ice. The bimbo screamed but the shriek was cut off abruptly as she lurched sideways and her head connected with the curb. Paul, who had started chasing her as soon as she’d ran, slowed to a stop in front of the unmoving woman.
“She’s dead, isn’t she.”
Firebird hadn’t posed it as a question but Paul crouched over the woman anyway to make sure. He took one look at the angle of her neck and nodded. “Oh yeah.”
Firebird pinched the bridge of her nose to try and ease the growing tension behind her eyes. “I hate this weather.”
Title: Watch for Ice
Prompts: Red Currant #9: thin ice, Mango #6: you go first
Rating: R for violence
Characters: Firebird Blaze, Paul Robinson, unlucky schmuck #9
Summary: I didn’t mean for this to go on any longer but there are a lot of schmucks that need to be killed so onwards and upwards, Firebird! XD The money WAS in the garden hose...mostly.
In Firebird’s line of work, she came across a great many bimbos with big breasts and greedy eyes. She watched with mild amusement at how easily these women distracted the meanest, scariest men in her Family with their flirtations and kisses, all while they were reaching for the man’s wallet to skim a little green. Firebird was in no way unaccustomed to the greedy wiles of gold diggers, but that didn’t mean that she would tolerate it, especially when it was one thirty in the morning and so damn cold outside that Firebird was starting to wonder if frostbite was a legitimate concern.
“Where is the rest of my money?” Firebird asked the bimbo girlfriend while she tried to stuff a rag into the vodka bottle. It was more difficult than it should have been because her fingers were numb inside her thick gloves. That unfortunate development had a great deal to do with her current torturing technique. The girlfriend was inside her car, handcuffed to the steering wheel, and Firebird almost wished the bimbo wouldn’t talk so she could throw her Molotov cocktail at her. The ensuing bonfire would definitely keep the chill away for awhile and improve her morale tenfold.
Finally she got the rag in and Paul handed her a lighter. Firebird flicked the lighter on and set it close to the rag. The bimbo cried harder, shaking her head wildly. “Crying is not what’s going to keep me from lighting this,” Firebird told her, “If you want to continue living, then tell me where the rest of my money is.”
“I-I don’t kn-kn-know!”
Firebird shook her head. “We found the nicks on the other end of the garden hose where you pulled money out without your boyfriend knowing. A lot of it is gone and I want it back. Now.” Firebird brought the lighter even closer to the rag.
“Wait!” the bimbo screamed. “OK, I’ll tell you! Just don’t kill me!”
“Tell me what I want to know.”
“I-I spent some of it on jewelry.”
Firebird gritted her teeth. How typical. “How much and where’s the jewelry?”
“Uh, like five grand? It’s all in the shoe box on the top shelf of my closet.”
The idiocy of some people never failed to amaze Firebird. Only a fool would steal money from the mafia then buy jewelry with it and put said jewelry in a shoe box.
“What about the rest of the money?”
“I gave it to my brother. H-he’s a gambler. He needed a loan to pay off some guys.”
“What guys?” Firebird snapped. It was entirely possible that her family already had the money, which would mean the last half hour out in the cold had been for nothing. Of course, it was also possible that the brother was paying out to a Lafayette bookie, which would mean the money was as good as gone. Either way, Firebird wasn’t pleased with this turn of events.
“I don’t know! I s-swear! He just said he had to pay some guys!”
Firebird looked carefully at the bimbo for some sort of hint she was lying and saw none. “Alright,” she said to Paul. “Let’s get the jewelry then we’ll find the brother.”
“You still want to throw that?” Paul asked, nodding to the homemade bomb.
She thought about it then flicked the lighter off and sighed, “I want nothing more, but let’s hold off on it in case she’s lying.”
Paul pulled open the car door and uncuffed the woman from the steering wheel. He dragged her out of the car then held her by the arm while he locked her car door and shut it. He looked at his boss with a smirk. “You sure you don’t want to kick her into the river? It wouldn’t be much of a drive, and you’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.”
“I’m so lucky to have a bodyguard with such a hilarious sense of humor,” Firebird grumbled, though her squinty eyed glare at him said she thought otherwise.
Paul glanced over at her to no doubt retort, and the bimbo took advantage of his split attention. She shoved Paul away from her then sprinted towards the street. She’d just taken her first step onto the street when she slipped on a sheet of black ice. The bimbo screamed but the shriek was cut off abruptly as she lurched sideways and her head connected with the curb. Paul, who had started chasing her as soon as she’d ran, slowed to a stop in front of the unmoving woman.
“She’s dead, isn’t she.”
Firebird hadn’t posed it as a question but Paul crouched over the woman anyway to make sure. He took one look at the angle of her neck and nodded. “Oh yeah.”
Firebird pinched the bridge of her nose to try and ease the growing tension behind her eyes. “I hate this weather.”