The Basement, Interior Local Corner Store, The Attison District, Temple City (3040).....
A puff of thick cigarette smoke filled the faces of the barely rousing hoods in their fancy zoot suits who found themselves awakening in a cramped dark basement with a rather testy and actively smoking, Baddwulf kneeling beside them sizing them up face to face before blowing smoke from his orange-tipped thin white cigarette into their collective faces. They made a show of coughing in the wake of the smoke entering their eyes, noses, and mouths as Baddwulf smirked still taking a few puffs before pulling back and extending himself to his full impressive height as he glared rather murderously at the two of them. He had been short on patience given who they had claimed to work for and even less in a mood to be kind after his earlier brawl with a few associates of theirs.
"Alright tweedle dee and tweedle dum, which one of you is gonna tell me why Blacky Clay sent you to extort the old man and where I can find him," said Baddwulf puffing rather slowly on his cigarette.
A ring of smoke filled the semi-darkened air and the hood in the tan zoot suit narrowed his eyes at Baddwulf as if he had been someone of worth as he struggled against his bindings.
"Hey, let us go or you'll be sorry, Mac." growled the hood in the tan zoot suit, still attempting to break himself free but it was to no avail.
The hood in the grey suit had not taken his eyes off Baddwulf nor the fact that the larger, older towering man's eyes were glowing in the semi-darkness ensuring that the already terrified hood knew he wasn't in the least a normal man.
"S-Shit!" exclaimed the hood in the grey suit. "He's a fuckin' Giraffe!"
The hood in the tan suit also looked up at Baddwulf's glowing red eyes and felt his bladder go weak within seconds. The brooding wolf in men's clothing snarled at the stench of fresh urine as he rolled his eyes and slowly puffed on his still-lit cigarette.
"The way I see it boys you got two choices," said Baddwulf with a rumbling growl, making it clear that his measure of patience was at an end. "You can tell me what I want to know, I cut you loose you take off and I never see you around this neighborhood again Blacky Clay or no Blacky Clay."
"What's the other choice?" asked the hood in the tan zoot suit with narrowed eyes.
"Or you can not tell me a thing while I sit here pressed for time and patience and devour you limb from limb until I get my answer and leave your bloodless corpses for the vultures out in the alley, either way, I'll be satisfied but you know being a wolf has its share of shall we say, drawbacks....given that I hadn't had the chance to stop for a meal on the way over here, I'd consider my options very carefully if I were you."
To further drive his point home he showed off his very lethal and razor-sharp fangs complete with salivation at the thought of biting into the frightened flesh of one of the hoods to sate his raging hunger.
"I-I tell you anything you wanna know Mr. Wolf...Sir." said the hood in the grey suit not at all wishing to test the hungry wolf on anything more.
"Will you be quiet?" hissed the hood in the tan zoot suit.
"Fuck off Earl he ain't gonna eat me because of Blacky Clay, do you see the asshole sending reinforcements to save our collective asses, I didn't think so...whatever you want to know Mr. Wolf...I tell you all I know." the grey suit hood continued visibly shaken by being in the presence of a man with wolf DNA.
Baddwulf slowly puffed on his cigarette once more before putting it out and kneeling down toward the two hoods. The tan suit hood seemed to have been changing his tune when he got a look at how big Baddwulf's teeth had truly been when inches away from his own nose.
"Look...Blacky Clay asked us to move in on this turf, he's got an operation going on Fleet Street and another at the Eastside Docks." said the hood in the grey suit. "He wants to start taking over the territory and get control of Attison District and to do that he needed to make a name for himself so he chose to go after the heavy hitters."
"Slim," said Baddwulf recalling what Blacky Clay had done to The Dope Diamond and that Slim Croc McDaniels, was a major player in Attison District.
Of course, the other competition included Rufus Wilder, a shifty weasel of a man that did business on the eastside docks, and Thomas Derrick O'Malley, also known as "Tom Cat", due to his recent involuntary genetic splicing incident courtesy of a Beverland District deal gone bad before he was tossed out into the cold cruel world and became a resident player in Attison District.
Tom's gang had been all the rage in the Westport section of the Attison district and extended their turf in recent months after taking out The Dearly Dogs, a gang formerly run by career criminal gangster, Douglas Dearly a now-deceased player in the ever-revolving power struggles of Attison district's less-than-savory residents.
Tom and Baddwulf had a very complicated history as he'd been the reason his favorite cheetah girl, Cherri, had taken to stripping in The Dope Diamond, as he'd been her no-good father and despised her being anywhere near the likes of men like Baddwulf. They clashed quite a bit, especially over shipping deals that came through or around Westport that pertained to Don Leonetti's business and territories.
Tom Cat was growing quite powerful and there was no way he'd been able to make a move on Croc or Douglas Dearly without some backing from a high place. There was no word on what was happening in Rufus' turf or if he'd ended up siding with Tom Cat, who had just enough brains and strategic play to place a few traps for Croc to get in on his turf and the act of blowing up The Dope Diamond had been more his thing considering his daughter worked there.
The more he thought about it, the more Baddwulf was convinced that this Blacky Clay had been a mere pawn in a grand chess game between Tom Cat and Croc McDaniels. It also seemed to explain why the punk was always sending hoods after him, a means of putting his name out there by taking on "The Big Bad Wolf" so to speak.
"What else you got?" asked Baddwulf narrowing his eyes at the two cowering hoods.
"He runs a joint over on Fifth and Central." said the tan suit hood. "That's all I'm giving you fleabag."
Baddwulf smirked as he lunged at the mouthy brat and watched him duck in fear as he sliced through the ropes by way of his no-loner concealed claws and cut them loose. The zoot suit-wearing hoods scrambled to their collective feet and stumbled toward the door desperate to not ever see the old man's shop or the likes of Baddwulf ever again.
Baddwulf smirked as they ran not even daring to look back as they hightailed it as far away from the place as possible.
"Got what you needed Mr. Baddwulf?" asked the shopkeeper with a smile.
"Indeed I did, they both sang like a couple of canaries," replied Baddwulf before tossing a small pouch of black pennies in the direction of the old man who looked at him puzzled. "For the damages."
The old man caught it grateful as Baddwulf strolled out of the basement and toward his next destination.
Fifth and Central Street the supposed hideout or club belonging to the infamous and increasingly annoying hood, Blacky Clay.
Baddwulf had been of the mind to give the meddlesome nuisance the beating he so richly deserved after all the trouble he caused him and not to mention shooting up and burning down the brooding detective's beloved after-hours spot, The Dope Diamond.
As he made his way to his new destination, he had not forgotten how Croc had promised a good deal in the wake of his finding this punk for him.