Shoot Your Shot

Chapter 3

By the time morning came, he hadn't slept at all. All he'd been able to think about was the day before, the sound of the voice over the phone, the curiously quick catch of his bugs, and the confidence in the words the voice over the phone had taken. A long, cold shower and his finest suit later, and they were off. Today, he had a car pick him up and drop him off in front of the building. As usual, Gregory accompanied him silently, in the shape of his typical top hat. Slipping from the car, he looked up at the building and swallowed down the lump in his throat. It was less of an intimidating figure than stepping out in front of any of Lucifer's personal buildings, for sure, but it was still a sight to behold. To think, this one building controlled all of the drug trade in, not just the Pride Ring but, all of Hell. A deep breath and he was pushing forward, heading into the building and up to the top floor to meet with Don Henroin himself, just as he'd been told to.

Entering the lobby, he looked over the woman at the desk with a modicum of awe. She was large, not to say that she was fat, though she was a pleasant handful. No, no, she was physically towering despite her pretty in pink demeanor. All four arms were doing something, from typing on the two computers she had at her desk, to answering the phone and transferring the calls as needed. The moment he stepped up, she didn't even look up from her work, but instead handed him a clipboard with a sign in. "Sign your name, your actual name and not some fake ass bullshit, and then the date." She pointed to the line, handed him a pen, and left him to it while she answered another phone call. Unlike the stereotypes, this woman was not chatting with friends, but judging by her non-stop movements, she probably didn't even have the time to try. He signed his name and placed the clipboard back on the desk. Without missing a beat, she grabbed it, glanced at it with one of her numerous eyes and then put the clipboard down. "Gimme a sec." She typed a bit more before grabbing the phone and punching in three numbers. "Guest." That was it. With that, she put the phone down and pressed a button, which unlocked the doors behind her. It was all incredibly efficient and and almost frightening when he thought about how much the woman had done in the maybe five to ten minutes he'd been standing there. Slipping past the doors, he froze at the sight of two very large man. But they were men he recognized.

At least three times his own size, the men were Huntsman spiders, and they were the two bodyguards that sat outside the Don's office. They were his escorts clearly. Giving them a small smile each, the first indicated he was to follow, and so he did as he was told and followed behind them as they moved about the floor. Through the walk ways between the many sizable cubicles, making a right turn, and then down a hallway with several occupied offices. He was sure that listening in on any of those conversations in those offices would have been shocking. They stopped outside the massive wooden panel and the second knocked. "Come in!" The deep, gruff voice called from inside and the second opened the door, motioning that Pentious should enter. So he did.

The room beyond was large enough to fit the Don himself, who was in no way shape or form small. Book cases lined one wall and the other had windows that looked out onto the street below, which he found curious. It was almost a challenge to try and take out the lord as he sat at the exquisite oak desk. The door closed behind him and he turned his attention to nothing but the scorpion. The other man didn't even give him a courteous smile, instead he pointed to the chair in front of him and looked down. "So, tell me... Why exactly were you spying on us?" That accent of his; a slight lilt, but mostly his was just a demanding push of a tone. Similar, and yet some how nothing like the voice on the phone.

"I was proving myself to you." Now was his only chance to turn on any sort of charm. Last night, after the "invitation", he'd done a bit of research into what happened when people typically crossed the Overlord of Drugs. It hadn't been pretty at all. Most of the punishments seemed more like cruel acts of public torture; like stringing up the one who'd wronged him and leaving him there to starve, dehydrate, and then eventually be torn apart by exterminators in the Cleanse. Gruesome things he definitely didn't want to be subjected to. "It's not like I could just waltz in here and ask you to trust me on my resume, now could I?"