Red INK
Ep 15: The Beast Without.
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"Where... is...Diggy?" The one Fred called 'boss' asked again.
Durin inhaled and exhaled with heavy breaths, and then grinned. "So, you were the one who came for us tonight?"
Boss thought about the question. "Physically...no. Indirectly? Yes." He grinned, severe boredom evident on his face. He sat up. "It seems you have decided to go through the hard way when you could have easily choosen the faster one. I like you."
Durin muffled a chuckle which led to him laughing hysterically. "I'd rather die than give you information."
Boss crossed his legs and hands, observing him for some time. "You want to die? Are you sure that is your wish?"
Durin looked at him, it was as if his face brightened with excitement at the thought of death. He looked him straight in the eye. "If you don't kill me and I leave this place, I will kill you myself! Diggy will find you and make you pay!"
"Oh! Pay? I wonder which debt it is I have to pay" The boss said. "I will wait on that day. If it could be anytime soon, even better. How fun it would be for the lion to come out of its hiding den."
"You don't know Diggy!" Durin shouted.
"Oh! I am sure you do. And that is why I am asking you about him."
"Diggy— he will find you and all your loved ones, and you will pay for it. It would be an eye for an eye, and a tooth... for tooth. You can't beat it."
The boss picked up his gun and stood up, shifting his chair away. "Honestly, I periodically have a rough estimate on who he is, where he may be and how he looks like. Let me say...um...tall? Slim waist line, probably among the elites, partying away..." He watched Durin for a reaction, he didn't give any. Then he added, "He has a scar." Now Durin flinched. He tried to hide it but Dillion could see his body language changed from unmoved to slightly quickering with troubled emotion.
Dillion smiled. "You better be careful how you speak because you may give him away. And I will help you by granting your wish of death." He walked closer to him, and then behind him, resting both hands on his shoulders, the gun protruding from the corner of his eye. "You asked me who I was..."
Durin looked at the gun that was close to his cheek, he was beginning to feel hyperventilated.
"I will tell you." The boss brought his face closer to his in a way that both their cheeks were almost touching. "I am Shaft. Mr Shaft—and there are many of us, many too identical; but only one of us they call 'The Don'. I am that Don. The Don you all call Lord, the invincible face of the Underground where you people worship the ground he steps on...and yet, unseen."
Durin could say he was truly surprised but anybody could claim that title. "Lies!"
Dillion smirked and said, "Suit your narrative." He squeezed his shoulders, drawing the gun closer and closer to his cheek, before resting it under Durin's mandible. "You see Durin, your boss, Matrix...Diggy or whatever name you all call him, has something of mine that I wish to claim back. And I will claim it back. He stepped on my tail and now I can't let it go. Durin," He cocked the gun. "Do you remember a certain family called Dedutch? Jonas A Dedutch whom you all murdered in cold blood? With his wife and maids?"
Durin grimaced. He remembered the day they were killed. He was there and Diggy was the one that led the war front to their house because he was a trusted friend and acquaintance, he was easily led in. He didn't know how the case was covered up but it got closed real quick.
"And do you also remember a certain young girl called Sairham whom you, especially you, decided to drown with a stone tied to her feet in the Marjin Dam? I bet you remember her. Even the wickedest of souls remember their victims." He stood up slowly. "That girl, the daughter of Jonas Dedutch whom you all attempted to murder also, so you could claim her family's heritage and wealth...and status..." He grinned. "I know you remember. That girl...she lives—the rightful heir to the Dedutch's wealth. " He watched as confusion settled on Durin's face, with him going through three different stages of emotions; confusion, realization and regret. "You think the death of your brothers can make up for what you all have done? It isn't even an ounce. I am not even finished. I have just begun." He said it so casually that one would think he was bluffing.
He stood in front of Durin and pointed the gun at him. "An eye for an eye...ten lives for one death." He pressed the trigger, releasing a shot at Durin. Pow!
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Durin thought he was dead. But instead, he felt heat around his ear...and he smelled gunpowder....and then... pain. He yelped, screaming, trying to hear his voice through that one side of his ear. He couldn't. He was deaf on his left ear, on the spot. Blood began dripping on his shirt. Tip! tip! tip! He struggled to raise his head and looked at Dillion who took out his chair and sat across from him again, uncorking the gun. Fred stood behind him. Their two looking like gang brothers— Two sides of a coin: One who was crazy, calm and unpredictable that someone could wonder how those characteristics merged together, and the other who was daring with his eyes and gave very predictable vibes. And yet not. They fitted perfectly. They complemented each other. One could say Fred was the muscle and Dillion was the mastermind.
Dillion crossed his legs, adjusting his suit on his body, the gun on his lap and his fingers clasped together. "Let's do this again while I am being nice.." He said. "Don't stress me."
Durin looked at him with disdain, wanting so badly to hold his ear. The restraint was killing him and he was becoming weak from the blood flow. He felt even more vulnerable now that he couldn't move his feet and arms.
Dillion looked bored again. He checked his watch, time was 1:21 AM. He looked at Durin. "Your time is ticking. I do not have time for chicanery and jiggery-pokery. I am running out of patience. You know what I want, I don't need to repeat myself. Tell me what it is I want to know."
Durin bowed his head, gathered spit in his mouth and with all the strength he could muster, he spat it on Dillion's shoes. This action led to Fred walking up to him and landing a punch on his injured ear. He whimpered, still feeling the restraint on his legs and hands. This was torture in itself.
"Relax Fred." Dillion said to him. "There will be plenty of time for that."
Fred went back to stand behind him.
"Durin...I must say I like your enthusiasm, but this game is becoming excruciatingly boring." He observed him again. "Even if you do not tell me where Diggy is, or who he is, I will still find out myself."
Durin laughed. "I thought you said you knew who he is?"
"I said I have a rough sketch of who he might be."
Durin stared him down. "You must be mad. You think yourself to be God."
Now Dillion laughed. He found it a little menacing that this man had a dry quintessential humor...or was he referring more to himself? "If there is anyone who thinks like that, then it is you and your cohorts." He stood up and handed the gun to Fred. "It seems I have no use for you again." He turned away, hands tucked in his pocket. "Fred."
Fred moved closer to him. "Yes boss?"
"Finish your work here."
"You haven't got the information you needed." Fred told him.
Dillion smirked to himself. "I have."
Durin was certain that he didn't say anything, but he couldn't help but wonder what it was that found out.
"Keep it clean." Dillion told Fred.
He nodded. "Yes boss."
Dillion walked for the garage door, hands in his pocket, shoes silently shrieking across the cemented flooring, all he could think about was to get home.
"Diggy Jones is not the scarred man you mentioned!!" Durin screamed at him.
Dillion didn't stop walking.
"Don't touch an innocent person for your schemes! Bricks is just doing his job! Diggy Jones is an elite and the one behind this!"
Dillion stopped. What a fool. "Kill him." He ordered Fred.
"No! No..." Durin shouted.
As Dillion walked away, he heard gunshot through the night. No worries, nobody would hear him. They were in the middle of nowhere.