Mafia (DNF)

Twenty-two

DREAM

The putrid smell of burning rubber and oil surrounded us, as we stepped out of the car. George coughed a little.

I scowled as another smell hit me. Burning flesh. The explosion must've killed a number of the factory workers, and the building was still burning from what I could tell. There was smoke rising from a distance, and police officers were stationed around, not letting anybody in.

One of my factory managers came up to me, also coughing. "Sir! You're here."

"What happened?" I asked. "And how bad is the damage?"

"Over a hundred casualties so far. The west side of the factory is destroyed, and from what we could tell, someone cut into one of the boilers, and it set off a huge chain reaction."

"Any evidence of the suspect?" I asked, even though I knew there would be none. He wouldn't have done this if he wasn't confident he'd get away with it.

"None, but there's a letter for you," the manager said, pulling out a pink envelope from his pocket.

George, who'd been quiet this whole time, suddenly yelped. "Ow! What the heck?"

I turned around, envelope in hand, and saw a small child behind George, with a rock in his hand. George was rubbing the back of his head, and the child looked determined.

"My mommy is over there, her arm is hurt."

I noticed the grease on his clothes, and turned to my manager angrily. "You're employing children?"

He paled. "What! No, sir, we would never. I don't kno-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because I'd slapped him across the face. "Don't lie to me. When I ask for higher production, you deliver in an honest way."

The manager seemed to give up, and nodded. I told him he was fired, and turned back to the child.

"Where's your mom?" I asked. He pointed behind him, to a pile of rubble where a few women were crowded.

I looked around, then shouted at a health worker patrolling the area. "You! Go help this child's mother."

The worker seemed to be hesitant at first, but then realized who he was being shouted at by. He yelled for a few of his coworkers and they went over.

"This is horrible," George said quietly. He was looking at all the destruction, and the smoke rising into the sky.

I remembered the pink envelope in my hand, and grabbed George by the arm. "We don't need to be here, I just wanted a glance. Let's go to the car."

When we were safely inside and driving off, I ripped open the envelope. It was another letter.

Don't leave me hanging, it's simply rude. I expect you to write back this time.

I hope we can come to a compromise, and stop all this childish banter. How about you pay me a visit? 7:30pm, at our old field. Tonight.

Come alone, except a couple guards if you think you need them. If you don't show up, well, there's plenty more factories in the area, and I'm sure they'll burn just as nicely.

The Blade