If I ever get off this killin' floor Who. Johnathan Tower & Samantha Ellis What. He was one of yours? Too bad, so sad. Where. New York, NY When. Saturday night Warnings. TBA.
Tony Longo wasn't known for much. He had aspirations, his track record proved as much. Starting in his teens he'd racked up an unimpressive list of petty crimes, the most notable of which being stealing a woman's purse. When he was eighteen and out of juvie he'd stayed quiet for awhile and then before his 21st birthday he used his uncle's connections to serve the neighborhood boss on a trial run. Tony had apparently made a good impression because he'd gone from stealing old lady purses to running drugs. Tony was forty-five now, a year out of his latest stay at Ryker's.
He'd sworn to give up the crime, to retire before playing mob stooge cost him the rest of his life. Old Tony (because as far as his lifestyle went he was old) had even started to do right by law, a hint for the cops here a name there and he was starting to feel redeemed. Except he'd gotten an opportunity, one last push, one last deal that would mean a comfortable (and in his mind well-earned) retirement.
The meth ended up at a high school. A bad batch as it went, five dead teenagers and a trail that Jonathan had followed like the finely tuned blood hound that he was. So here they were. Tony on the floor, lower half of his face bloody from a broken nose and Jonathan standing over him gun at the ready.
Tony was blubbering and the only reason Jonathan hadn't pulled the trigger was the small coin-sized token with an intimately familiar sign on it.
"Shoot him. I don't care about your girlfriend. Shoot him and be done with it."