Revenge

Adkins was pacing around
his office; it had been two days since Agent Jonathan's disembowlment in his
own home, and the rest of the offices were on edge with him. They knew they
could be shot, dying was part of the job description, but forcibly dismembered
and strung across their house? What if their families were home, what if it
happened to their families too?

He stepped to his desk and
pushed on the PA system. "Greetings, FBI agency. I'm aware many of you are
concerned about our recent findings within the late Agent Jonathan's house, and
allow me to say that those concerns are not to be worried about. They're largely
unfounded, as many of you.." He sighed. "Many of you, to my own
dismay, most likely won't hit the Godfather himself. I'd like for all of you
too, take the menace down, but unfortunately I don't think that will be coming
any time soon. So, to reiterate, I'm sure you and your families will be safe
from such torture."

He let go of the PA button
and turned around, his cheek pressing against cold steel, as he glanced over to
the side. A large desert eagle was stuffed into his face, the Godfather holding
it and looking at him with death in his eyes, the hole still in his suit.
"Tell me, Addy. What's this?" He nodded down towards the hole.

"It's a bullet hole,
Vare."

"And how did it come
into my suit?"

"You were shot."

"And whose men did
that?"

"Mine."

"Good, so you're not
a complete idiot." He pulled the lever back, ensuring the gun was ready to
fire. "Now get on the ground or you're gonna have your very own bullet
hole in your head."

Adkins complied as the
Godfather stepped on him and up to the PA system himself. "Ladies and
gentlemen of the Federal Bastards of Investigation, this is that so-demonized
Godfather speaking." A rush of feet stomping quickly filled the building,
getting louder for a few moments. He continued speaking into the PA, "One
person enters this office and poor Addy here gets a bullet in his head, and I'm
sure many of you don't want that, do you?" The footsteps quickly stopped.
"I thought so. Now, I'm here for a reason. Any one of you is more than
willing to receive the same treatment as your former fellow agent if you dare
try and hit me again. Is that clear?" He paused for a moment, letting it
sink in.

"Very good. Now in
the meantime, I'm gonna be taking some spoils while I'm here. If you'd like to
try and stop me, you're more than willing to throw yourself into the meat
grinder. Until then, ciao." He chuckled and pointed his gun at the PA and
took three blasts into it, then threw it off the desk. He looked down at
Adkins. "Consider this your warning. Hurt another one of my guys again and
your guys are gonna be hurting a lot more than they did, capiche?"

Adkins slowly nodded.

"Good. I'll be seeing
you around." He smiled and exited the office. After a few minutes, a wave
of agents poured in to check his health, making sure there was no serious
injuries.

"Sir, are you
alright? We heard gunshots-"

"I don't have any
holes in me, do I?" He stood up and brushed himself off. "Now get out
of here, I have work to do." The agents quickly left the room, the last
one shutting the door behind him.

The Godfather stepped back
into the front door of the Clubhouse, carrying two large sacks and threw them
on the table in the middle of the parlor. "Two hundred thousand. Here's a
bit of luxury money for the rest of you, I don't need it. I've had my fun, and
I plan on having a bit more still." He walked back up the staircase and
into his office, as the members slowly started to divide up the pile of cash.

He grabbed a key from his
suit pocket and unlocked a drawer, pulling out his small book and began to
scribble into it.

I got shot a couple days
ago, got fixed up, but now everyone knows if they hadn't already. Guess I don't
really have a choice in it anymore. The shooter is dead and suffered. Adkins is
scared, or at least, most likely. If anyone else gets hit in battle, pick up
the attacker and either make another rat out of them, make them a plaything, or
simply torture them in their own house. Up to personal choice at the time.

He dumped the book back
into the drawer and locked it again, stuffing the key back into his suit, and
walked back over to his bed and layed in it, shutting his eyes with a slowly
growing grin, falling asleep shortly after.