BURNED - A Chicago Fire Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty One

The owner glared at a Boden as his steady hand kept his gun trained on him. Everyone was silent, afraid to move, afraid to talk, afraid to breathe. "You need me to what?" The owner asked.

"You don't wanna do this," Boden calmly spoke. "You do this, you won't be able to get a cent from your car."

"Because I'll be in jail?" The owner chuckled. "I'll get the money...and I'm not going to jail."

"How? Are you gonna push the car?" Casey asked.

"No. First, we will remove the filler neck," the owner jutted his jaw towards Victor as he anxiously held the filler neck in his hands. "And then we fix the car, and then I leave. Of course I'll have to kill you first."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Cruz insisted.

"I didn't go through all that fucking trouble of getting that damn car here to lose it to a fucking pervert with a car kink!" The owner turned the gun towards me. "You—"

"No, don't—" Otis shouted.

"SHUT UP!" The owner snarled as he glared at Otis. "One word. One more fucking word, and I'll kill her where she stands." Otis nervously swallowed, but kept silent. The owner turned his gaze to me. "You lied to me."

"No I didn't—" I began.

"You said I could put it back together."

"And you can, but you'll need a new filler neck."

"I can't get a new filler neck! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT CAR IS WORTH?" The owner roared. "If I get a new filler neck, it will drop the value exponentially."

"It would have to be the same part for the same car, but a custom," I nodded. "Hard thing to do when all the cars are supposed to be in Scottsdale, Arizona." The owner's eyes narrowed. "I told everyone your car is worth a minimum of $1.4 million, but you wouldn't be willing to cut the dick off a man over a car that comes easily where you could get a replacement part for the same make and model and only drop the price a couple hundred grand. No, you acting like this, it had to be the big one. The 1955 aluminum build. However, I didn't tell them that there was only one existence."

"What?" Mouch muttered

"The thirteenth car out of twenty four," I nodded and turned back to the owner. "You live in a basic house in the middle of Chicago. With the money needed to buy a car like this, you'd be living in a safer city with higher security, not in some neighborhood where you're storing the car in a one-car garage. Also, the last time I checked, that car was reported stolen years ago."

"Clever girl," the owner smirked. "Of course, now you understand it all, right?"

"I understand," I nodded. "I understand why you're reacting so aggressive over the car, why you were insistent on cutting the man's dick off, why you didn't want us touching your car, and especially why you're willing to kill us over it. In Illinois, a car theft where the value is at least one million is punishable up to fifteen years, but this car is worth at least seven times that, so you could possibly be looking at a life term, if the judge wants to throw the book at you."

"Which he would," the owner nodded. "We all know how lenient our adored judges are around here," the owner scoffed. "However, like I said, I'm not going to jail...and you're gonna help me make that possible."

"We can work this out," Otis insisted. "Just put the gun down—" the owner pointed the gun towards Otis and fired off a round. We all quickly ducked as the bullet whizzed past Otis and embedded into the brick wall behind him.

"Stop!" I exclaimed. "I'll do it, just don't shoot anyone, okay?"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK TO DO!" The owner snarled.