(I seriously hate that title…)
“So why are we here?” Sinbad took a glance around the cabin as Harwood and Marc picked the inside of the place apart.
Harwood was carrying a musty-smelling blanket out to the trash when Sinbad asked him the question.
“Eh? Oh, well, uh…” He tapped his fingers against the blanket trying to find the right words. “Marc kind of needs a place for his, shall we say, ‘fun times’ with his entourage? Getting a bit tired of him using my bed…”
Marc could apparently hear them in the bathroom, considering he loudly groaned when Harwood said this.
Looking behind them, The Builder made sure Elvira wasn’t looking at them in any way.
She wasn’t. Elvira was merely discussing with her minions about some brewing war in the city. She sounded displeased as he demanded what was taking Annette so long to find their target.
“Can’t have all their ammo stored away in warehouses, now could they?” As they cut the boxes open, The Builder could only find packages of piano wire.
“Jeez, Cheap much-” But they were stopped by a gush of blood from their mouth. As soon as it stopped, The Builder stared at the mess before uttering, “…shit.”
Tucking some wire into their pocket, The Builder then poked their head out to get Elvira’s attention.
“Heeeey, Elvy,” they said while trying to sound coy, “I just remembered I left my stove on at home, and…Well, I can’t do that without smashing one of my assistants’ face into the burner, so…Be back soon!”
Without waiting for her answer, The Builder slipped back into the room, and quickly opened the portal.
“It’s bad enough my grandson goes missing,” the old woman could be heard saying, “and now I hear rumors that he has returned…”
Annette busied herself by fingering an array of knockoff brand dresses. The whole time, she kept her attention on eavesdropping.
“What do you mean, he?”
“Oh, well, it’s just a rumor for those who didn’t believe he died a few years ago, but…Remember that explosion?”
Frowning, Annette tried to imagine what would warrant something in Bridgeport to explode.
“That? Well, what about it?” The elderly woman’s sister asked casually.
The first one harrumphed, before stating the issue: “They never found his body, remember? And he was the one that caused it. You’d think there be some kind of body, or something…”
“But why did he cause it?” Now Annette strained to hear correctly, lest she miss any important details.
“I suppose he had enough of being their lackey, after all those years…”
Covered with dust, dirt, and several other kinds of filth, all three men surveyed the work done thus far.
“It looks…” Marc tilted his head sideways as he tried to give his honest opinion on the room. “Bare.”
Harwood made a noise. “It does need the essentials for a proper romantic location, but…” Taking out his phone, he began punching in numbers. “Nothing a few connections can’t solve.”
When he took it out into the living room, Sinbad turned to look at Marc with a raised eyebrow.
“You do realize our dad is helping you with getting laid, right?” The look on Marc’s face that showed up proved that yes, he was well aware of it.
“I’m hooome~!” The Builder’s obnoxiously cheery declaration made the assistants blood run cold.
When The Builder came into the room all of them were in, they did so while carrying a few things with them: A tire iron, a garrote post, and a still living clone.
“Ooh, and do I have something to show all of you! Now take your seats…” Not wanting to risk their superior’s wrath, all of them sat down.
“Where’s Andromeda?” Ox-Head inquired, after seeing Annette hadn’t come back. He didn’t receive an answer.
Ignoring him, The Builder set up their post, and forced the clone to sit on it. They then pulled out the piano wire from earlier, and tied it around his neck.
Now that the clone was properly secured, The Builder grabbed hold of the tire iron.
“Eh, don’t worry about a thing, Jinjo Madagascar,” they said insincerely while patting his cheek, “I’ll promise I’ll only break most of your bones.” With that, they raised the tire iron above their head, and came down hard onto the poor clone’s head.
Realizing what was now happening, Moony buried his masked face into Sunny’s chest. Horse-Face just looked away, afraid to watch. In his typical fashion, Ox-Head covered his eyes with his hands.
Before Annette could get any useful knowledge from the old women’s story, said old women had quickly left. Rather than follow them and risk being caught, she stayed behind and tried to mentally glean anything she did learn.
“Well, that didn’t do me any good. Maybe I should’ve asked them what they were talking about.”
By this point, the rain appeared to start clearing up. Now, the sun was beginning to peek out of the clouds outside.
Stepping out of the store, Annette watched at the passerby put away their umbrellas and rainhats.
“I guess I should keep looking, then. Maybe I’ll learn some more information at one of the bars later…”
Once again, Annette wished she’d had a face to go with the target.