A hollow scraping noise echoed down the hall as the heels of the man's Gucci shoes dragged across the concrete floor, their owner unconscious and bleeding, being dragged by two large men in black suits. The man was dragged into a dimly lit room, thrown into a chair and bound to it, then once he was confirmed to be restrained, one of the men picked up a bucket of cold water, throwing it over the beaten man to bring him to his senses.<br/><br/>He woke with a start, sputtering and spitting out water, then writhed on the chair only to discover he was bound. He shook his head to get his wet, matted hair from his face and squinted into the darkness, the only light from a solitary bulb above his head.<br/><br/>"Where am I? Who are you bastards?!" he demanded. One of the suits gripped a tight fist and brought it across the man's jaw, making his spit out blood. The light overhead began swinging in a slight breeze. He noticed a table nearby covered in odd instruments. Fear gripped his chest but he pushed it down, trying to be brave and prove to these people how much of a bad ass he was.<br/><br/>"Torture, eh? You fuckheads aren't getting anything from me!" he yelled, "Fuck you!"<br/><br/>The suit pulled back his fist again, but someone cleared their throat in the shadows and he suddenly stopped. The man looked up, not noticing him before this, but his eyes went wide as the man lit a Cuban, his furry face illuminated for a moment by the flash of his lighter.<br/><br/>"Sir!" the suit stiffened and stepped away, as the furred one stepped out of the shadows, pushing off the wall he was casually leaning against, cigar clenched in teeth just behind a pair of fangs.<br/><br/>"Who're you supposed to be, freak?" the bound man spat. The suit snapped forward, bringing his fist across the man's face once more.<br/><br/>"Watch how you speak to The Don! Show some respect!"<br/><br/>With his head now spinning from the last punch, he looked up to get a better look at 'The Don', a skinny man, if you would call it that, dressed in a suit, wearing shades and a fedora, standing casually with his hands in his pockets. The thing that caught his eye the most was the white fur, pink wings on his back, and the odd, antennae like thing sticking out of his hat, and the strange yellow round thing on the end, almost seeming to glow in the dim light, but that could have been just the way the light was behind him. This was their leader?<br/><br/>"I'm a busy man." Donta said, "Let's get straight to the point. Who do you work for?"<br/><br/>"No one!" he said, "I'm a freelance dealer!"<br/><br/>"Who's your supplier?"<br/><br/>"I make monthly trips to another city and bring back a truck load." he said, "What do you want with me?"<br/><br/>"A small fry?" Donta spat, turning around, "You said he worked for a larger organization." The suited minion became nervous and stuttered a response.<br/><br/>"H-He does! He's l-lying!"<br/><br/>"I fucking know that, idiot!" he snapped, then turned back to his prisoner, "Look, let me make it simple. You tell me the truth and stop wasting my time, and those torture instruments on the table will be the least of your worries."<br/><br/>"What you gonna do?" he chuckled, "Kill me? Do you have the balls? Kill me and you get nothing from me." the man lowered his head and spat at The Don's feet, chuckling at their odd shape and lack of fashionable shoes, "Vinny wouldn't be happy if I turned up dead."<br/><br/>"Vinchenzo Farini." Donta spat, "That small fry wants to challenge me and invade on my turf?"<br/><br/>"This was his town before you came along, freak." he said with a chuckle, "You and your little Dark Bullets won't last much longer. He's gaining power and he's..."<br/><br/>BANG!<br/><br/>The man slumped back in his chair, a small hole in his forehead oozed dark blood and the wall just behind him now painted red. The shot actually made both suits jump and they slowly turned to look at their Boss, holding a single, smoking Desert Eagle still leveled with the man's head. No one moved until a rather large chunk of something fell from the back of the man's head and splattered on the floor.<br/><br/>"Get this mess cleaned up." Donta said, holstering his gun, "Send the rest of him to Vinchenzo as a message."<br/><br/>"Yes sir!"<br/><br/>Heading back down the concrete floored hall, one of the suits followed him, walking stiffly. Donta could see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. This is what he loved about his job. He made people nervous. He commanded respect. If you did what he asked, you were rewarded handsomely, piss him off and you wouldn't like what happens.<br/><br/>Once outside the building, the suit opened a door to his town car, letting Donta slide in next to yet another man in a suit. The door slammed shut and he pressed the button to lower the window.<br/><br/>"Grimes. Where's that report I came here for in the first place?" he asked. Grimes panicked and patted himself down, dug in pockets and finally found a folded paper in his inside pocket of his jacket. He handed the paper to his Boss and the car drove off.<br/><br/>Donta unfolded the paper and sighed. Drug production was down a little this month from that particular warehouse. He was glad it was the last he had to check on today.<br/><br/>"Home Jeeves. The wife is waiting." he said. The driver sighed.<br/><br/>"Sir, I've said before, my name isn't Jeeves...." he said with a sigh. The suit next to him reached forward and slapped the driver across the back of his head, enough to hurt, knock his hat off and make him swerve slightly.<br/><br/>"If he says your name is Jeeves, you better jump every time he says it, got it!" he yelled. 'Jeeves' nervously fixed his hair, replaced his hat and sat up straighter to quickly nod.<br/><br/>"Yes, sir! Home it is!"