“Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what was said. Just give me the money.” Leonard paused. “Or else.”
“But I already paid for goddamn protection this month!” the fat, bald, owner of Pik’N’Sav protested. His name tag marked him as Bob.
Leonard felt panic rise. He couldn’t afford to screw up his second chance! Two enforcers already hated him. They called him “a fucking alien” and were looking for any reason to kick the shit out of him. He needed this.
“I’m not your friend, you fat fuck. I don’t care about you. This is just business. If you won’t pay, well, then there will have to be consequences.” Leonard dry-washed his hands as he spoke trying to overcome the urge to vomit.
“I’m not paying you again.” Bob had found a spine.
The denial was too much for the thin mobster who began to shudder, eyes rolling back. But his flesh stood and a voice thundered out, pregnant with the passage of time and stoked by the fires of torment.
“DO NOT DEFY MY HOST IN THIS MORTAL, LEST YOU BECOME A EXAMPLE OF MY WRATH.”