Joseph Tropiano (luckandchance) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-11-25 23:35:00 |
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Current mood: | working |
Entry tags: | joseph tropiano |
Sending A Message
Tonight was about one thing and one thing only: sending a message, a strong powerful message that would echo in the ears of the superiors and cause second thoughts.
The approach was far from delicate, it was brutality embodied from the first person taken to the ground to the way in which the imposing force laid claim to the space. Blood soaked through skin, shouts of pain rang in ears long closed to the pleas for mercy and cold detachment served to make every action more calculated than the last.
It was only after the bar fell silent that the assault ceased, brought to a lingering end that tugged at the fragile strings tying allegiances to the men that gave the injured parties their marching orders.
One of the few standing was Joseph, eyes surveying the destruction that had been reaped by his and two others hands. It was ugly, but sometimes ugly was the only way to get things done - to get a clear message across. Two crimson coloured fingers held a half burned cigarette and knocked ash onto the ground, grey flecks disintegrating into the muddled colours; it would be hell to clean. With cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth Joseph grabbed a hold of a nearby stool and dragged it over to where the previously smart mouthed man laid, Joseph had picked him out as the leader the moment he’d gone off on one.
The metallic rungs of the stool hit the ground with a small amount of force and the leather of the seat creaked as Joseph made himself comfortable. “Vin, if you’ll be so kind.” A broad shouldered man moved from where he was at the bar and put a hand in the smart mouth’s hair, yanking him up onto his knees. The smart mouth’s eyes were half shut and strands of hair fell in loose bloodied disarray obscuring a majority of his features. Joseph regarded him coldly, merely lifting an eyebrow in challenge as the smart mouth glared as much as he could. “Nothing funny to say?” The deafening silence was answer enough so Joseph sat back to take a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke burn the back of his throat. “Thought not.”
A long stream of smoke escaped Joseph a second later and he leaned in close enough to drop his voice. “You know you’re the lucky one,” the look he was given brought about a low chuckle in Joseph. “I mean it.” His hand tossed the cigarette aside and then his fingers closed around the smart mouth’s neck, tightening ever so slightly. “You wanna know why?” There was no answer, which was predictable, but words weren’t always needed, not when the eyes gave away so much. “You’re the lucky one because believe it not you’re going to be the only one who crawls away from this.”
And with those words spoken Joseph rose to his feet, kicking the stool away at the same time, hand slipping to where the silenced pistol rested. It took him less than a second to pull it, slip the safety off and pull the trigger in five consecutive shots; each one sinking home with a remarkable accuracy. The gun was still smoking when Joseph hauled smart mouth to his feet and forced him to look at the now murdered bodies of his friends. “Take a good look because I want you to go back to your bosses and tell them that there’s someone new in town and we don’t look kindly on small time criminals drawing attention to things, fucking everything up.” Joseph pressed the muzzle of the gun to smart mouth’s temple. “You got that?”
All the smart mouth could do was nod vigorously, in fear of losing of his own life.
“Good,” Joseph muttered as he shoved the man aside and then turned to the men he’d come with, gesturing that it was time to leave. A cursory glance over his shoulder was the last thing Joseph did before he left the bar, leaving a bloody mess behind him.