Anita's car plowed through the thick rain that had plagued Kuja over this dreadful night. She didn't utter a word to Notion, nor did he to her as they drove to Allister's place. As they pulled up to the main gates, they were greeted by Paul, a middle-aged man that was armed with controlling the gate, and was also anything but discreet about his feelings for Anita throughout their interactions. "I oughta break this punk's limb." She would think to herself whenever he 'innocently' brushed his hand by her and uttered his routine words "Sorry darling" as he did so. She didn't let it get to her too much tonight however, she had bigger fish to fry. Instead, she just said, "Open the gate and we'll be square." He did so.
She parked up close to the door and both Notion and herself hurried to the sheltered doorstep. They knocked and slowly heard footsteps approaching the door. The man that answered was Frederick, a man who was on his final rung with Allister. Who was once a highly regarded cleaner was now a fill-in for when the main cleaner buster couldn't make it. "Hi Anita, and who might you be?" Notion wiped his face dry-ish from the rain, "I'm Notion…" "- he works under me, Frederick." Frederick let a toothless smile spread across his face, a ghastly sight for anyone who knew of his profession. "Very well, come in. Allister's in the kitchen, a few are already here…"
Notion soon found a company with fellow dealers but they did not make chit-chat. Anita stood by the door, one eye on Allister and one On the door. Allister poured himself a glass of Vodka from his personal kitchen bend stash, his back turned to those that had so far arrived. He turned back around, a drunken mess shaking and stumbling through the dozen-strong crowd and sitting at the kitchen seat. He wiped his face clean of the club owner's blood and promptly necked back the full glass of Vodka.
He spun the swivel chair around and spoke; "Any of you hear about what happened tonight? Hm? Well in case you haven't or are wondering why Celine isn't here with us right now, it's because she's dead. That asswipe mule that those Banku rats sent to us gave us laced cocaine. And I'm suspecting that a lot of our customers that were sold to today are also dead. If that is the case then that would…quite frankly…leave us with squat. Fuck all. Zilch. Not a single damn thing, but I'll tell you what we won't do. What we won't do is sit here and cry about our losses what we will do is find these Banku fucks and take them for everything that they have and then some."
With no knock at the door one of the goons burst through it, Arlo was slung over his shoulder, with a t-shirt gag and tape around his mouth, a sweltering black eye present. "Sorry for being late boss, but I know that you'll be pleased with this good news." Allister stood from the swivel chair walked through the other side of the crowd and pulled the hair of Arlo inspecting his face. "Well, either I'm as drunk as the day is long. Or this isn't the mule. What part of this am I happy to see?"
The goon dropped Arlo onto the ground and removed his gag, stupidly, Arlo called out to any bystander that would hear him. Of course, his cries were muffled by the rain or to anyone that would hear him outside of the room. Allister punched Arlo hard in the face and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar. "Who the fuck are you?" Arlo hesitantly looked up at Allister, whose stone cold eyes never blinked. "I don't know this guy man! I- I'm just a guy off the street I never-" the goon sunk his heel into Arlo's foot, in turn, Arlo let out a sickening puppy Yelp. "Shut up, punk. We'll get it out of you sooner or later. Only himself and the mule were at the apartment we went to. He knows something at the very least." Allister pulled the Goon off to the side, "I want you to take him down by the docks out West. Use the drill, hacksaw, and blowtorch in my garage. I want you to take things from him that he values the most. Fingers, eyes I don't care just make sure he coughs up where the mule has gone before he dies, alright?" "Yeah boss, crystal clear." The goon re-gaged Arlo, hit him a couple of times to make him shut up, and carried him back to his car. "Craig and Frederick, you both go as well, there will be quite a mess. Cant have the pigs sniffing around for clues." Allister turned to the remaining 10 people standing in his kitchen.
"The rest of you...anticipate my call, wait for my orders, and be prepared to strike. Carl, you got a gun?" Carl the dealer looked confused for a second, "Oh I'm new here…I…wouldn't say I per se have a firearm…" Allister facepalmed, "GET YOURSELF A FUCKING GUN CARL. Or you'll be caught with your dick in your hands and you'll be guaranteed to die out there. That goes for everyone, it's not my responsibility to sort you all out. Where all men…and woman. Now sort your shit out and come ready alright."
The group agreed in unison and waited for more words from their boss. Allister looked confused, "What are you all waiting for an encore? Get the fuck outta here." With that, the group started murmuring as they left. As Anita passed Allister she patted him on the shoulder, "You gonna be all right?" Allister shrugged her handoff. "I've still got Brenda. Sure, she might not be as much of a big shot as Celine but I'll be anything but lonely." Anita nodded her head and didn't dare show her discomfort. "Alright Al, take care."
Anita hopped into her car and waited for her passenger door to open and for Notion to plant himself in its seat. But he didn't. She opened her door and stuck her head out, "Notion! Are you good for a ride?" Notion just continued chatting to Carl, something about 'If he gets a gun it's gotta be a Glock' or something. So she started her engine and began reversing out. Thankfully Paul didn't bother her on her way out.
Once back at her apartment, she rushed over to Scott who immediately began grunting as if to tell her off for leaving him with nothing but late-night commercials and no dinner. "Sorry hun I had to go to work, you know how it can be…" He continued grunting, and his stomach rumbled. "Alright, alright. I'll heat up that leak soup…or was it pumpkin? I can't remember…anyway I'll heat up the soup, feed it to you, and then I'll put you in bed. How does that sound?" Scott tried nodding but wheezed as he was painfully unable to quite do it. She walked over to the kitchen and began heating her lover his meal.