Who: Ruby and The Hyenas (and one unfortunate rogue Hellhound npc) What: Unfinished Business Where: Unincorporated Austin, then ending at the police station When: Aug 3th, very late Warnings: possible TW, implied violence, moderate torture (Rated R)
Grabbing him had been the easy part- finding the bastard had been a bit more difficult. Like a scorpion or a cockroach, he’d kept to the dark, away from prying eyes while the city scrambled to drag the likes of him out of the shadows. Ruby’d heard about the chaotic gang of hooligans even before she’d encountered them herself. Just another handful of idiots running the heavy-fist game, hitting up anyone they could for anything they could carry, just like a hundred others she’d seen in the last three years. All brawn and intimidation, no actual purpose. No reason to go easy.
Especially when she was still pissed. One of her girls had spotted him ducking into another alleyway outside the fortified walls of the city, alone and looking particularly stressed. Probably because his boys had been picked off one by one due to their frivolous, disorganized muggings. Ruby didn’t know for sure if he was the last one wandering around, but nor did she particularly care. ‘Scar’, the lanky one with the smarmy bayou accent had been the one who broke her ribs. He was hers, one way or another.
Keeping tabs on his movements as the rest of her crew got together and picked a plan of attack had paid off. The pipe across the back of his head had just been to make sure they had him nice and docile for a little chat. Ruby had specifically made sure it wasn’t enough to kill him. That would’ve been way too random for her purposes.
The decision had been made; now with the fact that Bode was alive and well (and a father), Ruby had kin here in Austin. They were staying and setting up shop. The process would be slow, baby steps at first to grow themselves some good roots, find themselves a niche to exploit, and ride it as far as it would take them. Ruby was a patient woman, and her girls were all about finding a place to make their own.
Poor ‘Scar’ came back to the land of the living anchored to an old swivel office chair, locked in a tangle of bike chain that kept his hands behind his back, his feet against the base, and bit into any skin it touched whenever he moved. Six figures welcomed him into consciousness, each one dressed in a nondescript, usual manner, save for the various improvised weapons and masks. Plain white plastic, the kind found in any generic party store, with the bare minimum human characteristics and no expression. Creepy without any decoration- Ruby and her girls had made them their own. Each had painted features on their mask; one had a wide, pointy-toothed demon grin, another had cartoonish red circles on the cheeks, thick black lines for ‘lashes’, and the word ‘Princess’ written in dark red across the brow. Another was completely covered in bright pink and gold glitter.
Ruby’s mask was simple, spray painted black with two red ‘fangs’ extending down from the mouth hole. She also had the hood of her jacket up, hiding her hair.
“Mornin’, sweety,” she sang out when he started to stir. She and the rest of the group closed in, lit by battery-powered camping lanterns. Still sore, Ruby moved just a little slower than everyone else, but she didn’t show her pain, not even when she crouched casually in front of their catch so they were a little more eye to eye. “S’okay… take a little time to shake off the cobwebs. I know Princess gave yer noggin a good knockin’, didn’t she…”
The women behind the masks chuckled- the owner of the glitter-mask arm-punched Princess, who gave her pipe a celebratory twirl. Scar, to his adorable credit, chuckled in a way that was everything but friendly. It only kept up until he started testing his bindings. Still, despite his growing nerves, he tried to play it tough.
“The fuck is this,” he started, eyeing all of them, then Ruby. “A panty party? Y’know, y’all don’t need to tie me up- there’s plenty of love to go’round. Looks like y’all might need it, too. Is it that time of th---”
Ruby cut him off- with a taser to the ribs.
“I didn’t say you could talk yet,” she reminded him flatly after the choked convulsions stopped, leaving the man gasping in his office chair. The women around her were silent, still looming, and ready. “So unless the next words out’a yer mouth are ‘I’m so sorry, ladies’, you best learn to t-”
Scar wasn’t ready to learn,
“Fuc-yaaAHH!” Ruby planted the taser on him again, right in the same place, and left it there until Scar started choking on his own spit. And again a few more times, each time he opened his mouth and something other than an apology came out. When the crotch of his dirty pants turned dark and the smell of urine filled the small garage, she finally gave it a rest. Scar hung there, sweating, pissing himself, and finally silent, with an equal mix of fear and rage in his eyes. Behind her mask, Ruby smiled.
“Good boy,” she told him. “Now. Here’s how this is gonna go, sugar… You gimme that apology, an’I promise you’ll live through the night. You gimme anymore lip… I’ma cut yer damn tongue out.”
Scar sat in silence for several long moments, pride and survival instincts clashing. Ruby just adjusted her position, even turned over a nearby five-gallon bucket to sit on, and waited patiently. Her girls shifted occasionally, but no one spoke. This wasn’t their first rodeo.
This was just business. Setting up shop in a new town took a lot of dedication, and the first step in Austin was to minimize the opposition.
“I’m….sorry. Ladies.” The biker gritted it out through a filter of hate and malice- Ruby expected nothing less, but there was something else in his eyes that rubbed her the wrong way. The look of a martyr- like he didn’t ‘deserve’ what was happening to him. She got right in his face, her voice slightly muffled by the mask.
“Sorry for what, cupcake?” she demanded. “Tell mama what you’re sorry for, an’make it fuckin’ good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I believe you…”
“Well what the fuck did I do?” Scar wheezed back, voice cracking with pain and what felt like justified rage. “You bitches are fuckin’ crazy-! I never did nothin’ to any--eeHAAHH!!” Ruby cut him off again, this time with the taser set under his right arm. His scream was sharp and shrill, almost broken. Hints of his voice tainted his pants when it was over. Like whimpers. Ruby let him get a better grip on himself for a few more moments, not out of compassion, but to make good and sure he was paying close attention. She didn’t want him to miss this. Leaning close enough to feel his salty heat even through the holes in her mask, she spoke to him low and dangerous.
“You got in my way. So you’re gonna be my example.”
-----------------------------------
Half an hour later, what sounds like a car alarm suddenly starts blaring from an alley right beside the police station. Upon inspection, instead of a car, police personnel find a car battery with an old alarm jerry rigged onto it to work but be easily portable and simple to shut off. Right next to the battery/alarm is Scar, still chained to his old office chair, pale and anemic, drifting in and out of consciousness. Loosely taped in his mouth is a balled up piece of t-shirt material, mostly soaked through with blood (from the 3/4ths inch of tongue he was now missing). There is an old Christmas present-type bow stuck to the top of his head, and written in black Sharpie across his brow is a greeting.