A stiff drink

I kicked my legs straight up, bringing the chair upwards and into Muscles' hand, the one holding the wrench. I brought my legs to my chest and drove them, and the chair, up into his chest then kicked up to catch his chin. Not much chin on this one as he went down hard. Skinny was fumbling in the desk, trying to find something better than a tool I figured, so I hurried my hands out of the tape and untied my legs. I grabbed the wrench off the cold floor, walked over to Skinny, and drove it into his temple. Good timing too, he'd found something better. I pulled it out of his limp hand, clicked the safety back on, and tucked it in my pocket. Those things can be useful.

Skinny protested little as I hauled him up, tied his hands and feet, and sat him up on the ledge in front of the window. He'd probably have something to say about it when he woke up, but with some persuasion the only talking he'd do would be the kind I wanted to hear. Muscles, even with the weak chin, wasn't going to be moved so I rolled him up against the opposite wall. I set the wrench on the desk, straightened my tie, and started checking out the cabinet in the corner. The smile hurt my swollen cheek but it was worth it: a twenty-year single malt and a clean glass. Things were looking up.

Skinny's eyes rolled open. It took a while for him to figure out where he was, and would take him longer to figure out how things had gone so wrong.

"Hi there."

He looked up at me, sitting on my chair, gun in one hand and a reload on the rocks in the other.

"Let's have a chat, eh?"

He said nothing, and looked over at Muscles.

"He won't be moving for a while. Just you and me."

Skinny's eyes had no expression, a blank slate that I figured I needed to write a script on . Something with emotion, something maybe dark. It's best to let your creativity take over.

"It's late and I'm tired, so let's keep this short. What's the deal here?"

Still a blank white canvas. Sometimes getting started is the hardest part of writing anything.

"Too complicated, I see. Let's try this. Who are you, who's your friend, why do you care about the girl?"

The best way to start, even if you don't know where you're going, is just to write something, anything, that'll get things moving. I clicked the safety off the gun.

"Come on fella, let's hear something."

Oh hell, I'll edit the thing later.

"FUCK!!!!" yelled Skinny as the bullet went through his shoe and into his foot. No loss on the shoe, but any more favors and he might not think I was serious.

"If you still want to hobble home tonight I'll need something more specific."

"You pathetic piece of fucking shit! You don't have any fucking clue what you're getting yourself into!"

"Usually don't. Talk."

Skinny tried to smile, but it was a struggle. His breath was fast now, heart pounding away like it was opening at a jazz club. He'd drenched his suit in sweat too, which was like spilling coffee on an old newspaper. Normally it would be a problem, but in this case...

"You'll be lucky to live another day after what you've done tonight, if you think this is going away you're in for a fucking surprise."

Skinny's eyes looked past me for a split second. I whirled around to find Muscles up and about to bring that wrench down, but he quickly changed his mind. Or would've, if he had one. My own arm was a little faster, and Muscle changed his direction in a hurry. In a moment, the only movement in the room was smoke rising from the gun barrel, as Muscles lay still on the floor after slumping down the wall. Nice piece, I thought, could've been a tough skull to penetrate. I turned back to Skinny, finished my drink, and smiled.

"Was that it? Was that the surprise?"

I'd broken through, finally. Skinny was looking as all his confidence, his backup, his manhood, lying on the floor behind me. His outer defense gone, his inner defenses has little protest left in them.

"I asked you earlier why you cared about some girl whose name you didn't know."

I said nothing.

"It doesn't matter anymore. She's dead now. We had eyes on her as soon as she left your office."

"Why was she killed, she didn't tell me anything."

"We don't believe that. She told you something, or gave you something, and we need to know what it was."

"Who's 'we,' you and your big friend?"

Skinny snorted. "Of course not."

"Then who are we talking about here."

"Have you ever heard of the Legacy Foundation?"