22 - A Finished Job

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Above is a video of the smexi Ray King/Charlie Brown! Consider it a treat for all the nice votes and comments ;) oh, and this story is officially entered in the Watty's 2016 so wish me luck! Enjoy, mwuah!




Ray hissed as the needle was woven through his skin and blood trickled down his shoulder slowly. Getting stitches was never fun, but it was even less so when you had to do it yourself. 

"So when are you gonna go?" Gage asked from his position on the couch.

Ray ignored him, focusing on the flimsy string he was struggling to tie off. The stitches Rico had given for his shoulder wound the other night were fine until this morning, when Ray went on an extra circular activity that required a little more physical exertion than he'd anticipated. Now he stood in one of the rooms of Sammy's 'dungeon' trying to patch himself up before he got back to work.

Finishing off the stitches and rinsing his hands, Ray pulled his shirt back on and rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck in the process. He cleaned the area up and turned around to face his friend who was still pretty immobile due to his own wound. 

"I'll leave later tonight, I need to see Danny first and let her know I'll be gone for a few days."

With nothing else said, Ray opened the door of the living area they'd been in and stepped into a much smaller, smothered room. The room was fitted with cold cement walls and there were no windows to be found. The coloring was dark and the air was thick with musk and humidity. In the far corner there was a metal toilet and next to it was a metal basin for washing your hands. The stench of such a pitiful bathroom filled the room and immediately Ray's face contorted into a frown. 

"You ready to talk now?" he called out, watching as the dark figure in the middle of the room tried his best to inch away from him.

Ray smiled.

The other night when Ray had gone to help Gage it put things into perspective for the young gangster.

Though he would never admit it, Sammy may have been right: Ray had let Danny distract him. A few months ago if Ray had been given a hit order the man would have been dead the next day, that weekend at the latest. Ray had been ordered to kill Freddy and now, nearly two months later, the man was running wild and doing and shooting as he pleased.

Gage's condition, Sammy being annoyed and pissed off, and Freddy stirring up trouble within the Mafia's members and associates, that was all Ray's fault. 

How could he have gotten so comfortable simply watching movies and holding his girl? How could a simple kiss give him more pleasure than the vibration of a freshly fired gun? Of the high of the hunt, of a game of russian roulette, of a sweet victorious kill. 

Where the hell had Charlie Brown gone?

"Fück you you sick piece of shit!" the man sputtered, spitting on the blood flooding his mouth. 

Ray chuckled softly and shook his head as he circled the man, re-wrapping his knuckles in gauze. "thats not the answer I wanted to hear," Ray sighed. Once he hands were covered and his knuckled wouldn't bruise as bad hopefully, Ray flexed his fingers before taking a breath and leaning into a punch. The man called out, screaming bloody murder and shifting his body weight as if he could somehow drop out of the chains wrapped around his wrist and keeping him suspended from the ceiling.  

Ray was relentless as he put all of his weight into each and every one of his punches, his aim being the man's rib cage. Earlier Ray had fucked his face up beyond recognition. He was sure the entirety of man's facial structure would be swollen for the following month.  Now his only option was to make his way lower and lower until the man finally broke.

"Ah! Ah fück! Fück please!"

"I didn't ask you to beg you pathetic bitch, I want answers! Tell me where Freddy is," Ray hollered, leaning back on his left foot and grunting as he delivered a perfect roundhouse kick to the man's ribs. The man screamed and, somewhere in the midst of it, Ray heard a satisfying crack. 

"You have thirty more seconds before I start cutting off limbs," Ray panted, his body glistening with sweat as he walked towards the other side of the room. He'd set up a table earlier and on it was a plethora of weapons he could use. He didn't like cutting -too much of a mess- but he'd do it if he needed too. 

To his surprise, the man only began to laugh, the sound so sick and suffocated by the blood in his mouth that, if Ray had been any other man, his skin would have crawled.

"Y-You think you scare me kid? Ha! Y-You don't know the half of what y-you're getting into. You ain't n-nothing but Sammy's faithful dog, killing and shitting whenever and wherever he's told to. W-Wake up kid! This is a b-big big world and you ain't ready for it. You ain't scaring shit!"

With a steady breath, Ray ran his fingers across the knives laid out in front of him and picked the smallest. It was a tiny thing, no thicker or longer than a butter knife, but it was sharp. And it was all that was needed to get the job done.

With blank eyes and an unfazed attitude, Ray picked up his weapon of choice and approached the man slowly. He could barely be recognized in the dim room but Ray could see it in his eyes that he hadn't lied about what he said. Ray didn't scare him.

But that wasn't the point was it?

"It's a common misconception, fear," Ray spoke, his voice clear and loud. He reached up towards the chains and the man sucked in a breath and began to fight as Ray pried his fingers apart. He struggled, kicked and screamed and swore and even tried to bite. He did everything in his power to get out of Ray's hold but it was futile. And that was because of the simple fact that in this situation, the man had no power

The power was all Ray's.

And so, as the man screamed and cried and fought, Ray simply continued to saw at his fingers and speak softly.

"Fear is a strong emotion caused by someone or something you think is going to hurt you. To be afraid is to posses that emotion at some time or another. Torture sir," Ray pressed down on the man's index finger, watching as it finally broke off and fell to the ground in a puddle of blood. Kicking the discarded limb out the way, Ray moved onto the next. "Torture is about pain. And pain is not an emotion it is a physical feeling, a suffering. So this isn't about how scary I can be. It's about how far I can push you until you simply break. And I've got all the time in the world."

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Ray finally pulled back and looked at his handy work. The man was worn and exhausted and the only finger still attached to his left hand was his middle finger. He looked up to see what had been done and, after a moments breath, he could do nothing but cry. The man who had claimed to be a big time thug and who had called Ray a child earlier, was crying.

"Don't cry, it's not becoming of you," Ray mumbled, wiping the knife clean on the bottom of his shirt. 

"H-He's gonna kill you."

"You think Freddy can kill me?"

"N-Not Freddy," the man cackled, "Sammy. Y-You think Sammy wants Freddy dead t-this bad j-just because he ran? Because he doesn't want to be in the Outfit anymore?" with something that sounded like a mix between a sob and a laugh, the man shook as he sagged, the chains literally the only thing keeping him up.

"As soon as you're done with the job Sammy's going to kill you. He can't afford loose ends. He can't afford for people to find out what it is he's really doing up there on that pedestal he sits on."

"What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. Freddy will tell you. I've done my job."

Ray stopped in his movements and looked up as the man closed his eyes and became quiet. It wasn't that he was afraid, but Ray had dealt with enough people and pulled enough jobs to know that when someone said they finished one, that never resulted in anything good. He could have assumed the man meant a job he'd pulled earlier, earlier before Ray had gotten to him and before Ray cut off his fingers and ripped his own stitches. 

But he knew better than that.

He knew better than to ever have hope for something that worked in his favor.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ray growled, grabbing the man by the chin and lifting his head. 

"We were going to go after your sister but last time someone did that Rico saved her himself, you didn't even act like you gave a shit."

"Stop fücking around! Your job! What was your job!"

"You're gonna find Freddy Charlie Brown, and then you're also gonna find out that Sammy betrayed and wants you dead. He's using Joy as an excuse, saying he's doing it for her, but it's really because he doesn't want you to know the truth. Doesn't want you to know what he's really up too."

Annoyed and fed up with the mind games this man was playing, Ray pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at the man's head. for the first time, Charlie Brown was about to kill with some sort of emotion in his eyes. Instead of the blank and emotionless stare that usually resided there when he took a life,  there was a scorching fire and a rage no man had ever witnessed before.

And it was there because he knew before the man even uttered the words what his job had been. He knew as soon as he mentioned his sister not being good enough. He knew as soon as the man simply gave up and stopped trying to fight back. He knew. He knew and for the first time, Charlie Brown could in no way hide his emotions.

"What. Was. Your. Job?"

"To keep the infamous Charlie Brown occupied. That was my job and I personally think I did a damn good job of it," the man chuckled, his smile stained with blood. "You want Freddy, well he wants you too. He knew better than to just approach you though or let you find him, so he had to get to you on his own terms."

"And what are his terms?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask your girlfriend?"

If ever a human being's heart could stop and they could still somehow survive, Ray was certain his was doing it now. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel or think or process what was going on. The only thing he could think of was the woman he loved and the thought of her being in Freddy's hands.

"You better run Charlie Brown, run befo-"

A gunshot echoed in the tight room and Ray stepped back, blood splattered across his face as he starred at the dead body in front of him. He hadn't realized he pulled the trigger, but he didn't care.

He didn't need this man to tell him what to do anymore. Danny was fine. Ray was going to get to her and she was going to be completely fine. Because if she wasn't, then all of Chicago was going to have hell to pay. 




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uh-oh!

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