bleps

garrett no thats illegal

(heres a thing based off my first ToS fanfic idk i was bored and inspired)(pls ignore any typos im so mcfreaking tired)

Garrett was seated at a table in the Blackmailer's house, surrounded in an inky blob of darkness and his two Family members, like usual.

They had just wrapped up a quick meeting, discussing strategies, targets, issues of the like. Earlier they were treated with a peachy little lunch at the local deli with what seemed like a new ally. The arsonist, as they had discovered, offered to pay for two of the four subs, since that was all he could afford. Jett and Miriam had fought like children at war for the free meal, so Garrett just decided he'd take the free meal and be done with it.

However now all the laughing and fun was over, and the two were about to head out.

"Be careful," Garrett whispered. "And don't get too messy, Jett. I know it's your first kill, but...restrain yourself. And don't get my gun broke." Jett grinned.

"Ah, don't worry, boss. This gun'll be treated like a baby! At least till I get my paws on my own." He spun the gun around in his hand and winked. Garrett rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Miriam! Be sure not to forget the updated envelope," Garrett called out as the two were about to run off.

"Flyin' flummery! Thanks, Garry!" The blackmailer scurried to the table and traded envelopes. She peeked into it and held back a laugh. "Jeez, this is rough."

"It'll keep 'em shut up good," said Garrett. "Off you two go, then. Have fun." He waved them off, and the two nodded before taking off to their targets. At the same time, Garrett sighed, leaned back, and ran his hands through his hair. Time to pack up for my house, then. He fixed his suit and stood, hand reaching for his suitcase.

Knock knock.

"Ugh," Garrett muttered under his breath. His hand retracted, instead hovering beside the switchblade in his pocket as he made his way to the door.

Knock knock knock.

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist!" The godfather opened the door and calmly flicked the blade of his knife up, brandishing it.

A brunette stood just as calm before him, eyeing the knife as if he were unimpressed.

"That knife couldn't even cut through a cow's pillon," grumbled the man, letting himself in, shoving past the taller man.

"Yes, Dexter, you can come in," said Garrett in a loud, high-pitched voice as he shut the door, "Oh, thank you, handsome and kind Garrett." Dexter rolled his grey eyes and plopped himself into the swivelling chair Garrett had sat at earlier.

"I don't wanna hear your shit, Garrett," he said lowly. His fingertips grazed the silver, blood-coated knife in his hands.

"You sound delighted tonight," the godfather snorted. "Little ray o' sunshine, huh?" Dexter cringed.

"Little ray of sunshine was hung yesterday, actually," he retorted, "so this sun over here ain't shining." The serial killer pointed to himself and spun around to face Garrett.

"Oh, them. Why're you so caught up about it?" Garrett lit a cigarette. "You can still talk to 'em via the Medium or somethin'."

"I already told you how far back we went, dude. Knew them way back before they went nuts. Knew them before they wanted to die so badly." Dexter rubbed his tired eyes, only realizing after that his gloves were tainted with dirt and general graveyard filth. He scoffed and peeled them off.

"Y'told me plenty of times. I think I'm gonna be able to tell the story to my grandchildren at this point." Garrett chuckled and looked back to Dexter for at least a hint of a smirk. He found none. "Awww, come on. Lighten up at least a lil. Seriously, you look like you're going through another emo phase." Garrett stepped behind him and spun him around in the chair.

"Shut up." The corner of Dexter's mouth twitched.

"Wanna smoke it off?" Garrett offered him a cigarette, to which Dexter politely declined.

"Listen, I'm actually not here to suffocate myself with smoke or tears," he said. He swivelled around and looked Garrett in the eye. "Let's talk business."

"Business is my middle name," said Garrett, sitting down on the table.

Dexter tapped his fingers furiously. "You went out with Firebug, correct?" He lifted a brow.

"Mmhmm," replied the godfather, "he likes tuna, if you're wondering." Dexter shook his head and bit his lip to supress a smile.

"Well, did you catch his role, by any chance?" He tilted his head. Garrett hesitated before nodding.

"Yeah, b-"

"Give me it." Dexter already had his will and pen out.

"B-But he-"

"Fork. It. Over." A far away glint grazed the killer's eyes, one that made Garrett clear his throat and oblige.

"He's, um...he's the Arsonist, but-" Dexter cut him off with a strange laugh. It sounded like it could've been a twisted one, or a happy one. Either way, Garrett was weirded out.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you saying something?" His usual grin crept up his face. "Go on."

"Well...he's the Arsonist, yeah, but he said he wouldn't burn the Mafia if we stayed quiet about his role." Garrett looked up. "But now that you decided to be nosy, my entire Family and I can go up in flames."

Dexter didn't show much empathy. "Hm." He narrowed his eyes. "So? What do you wanna do about it?" Garrett sighed.

"Um...I was wondering if you could, perhaps..." Garrett shrugged. "Kill him off? One less threat?"

Dexter frowned. "Why not get your precious Family on it?" he asked.

"They're already out somewhere else," the godfather replied. "Besides...I don't know if my new Mafioso can handle it. I'm sending him after weak people first."

"I don't see what's in it for me other than losing another ally," Dexter said, "and that ain't convincing me." Garrett reached for his suitcase, opened it. He fished into it.

"Well, there's this," he said, holding out a fat wad of cash. Dexter's eyes lit up. "Weren't you a hitman before? If so, you should know how it goes." Dexter accepted the cash and showed off his knife.

"I'm on it," he chuckled, eyes glimmering wildly. "Gotta hop by the graveyard first, though. I've got a plan in mind." He stood, slicking his hair.

"Using the ol Bodyguard facade again?" Garrett hopped off the table.

"You bet." Dexter flashed a grin and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Dex pal. You better take care of him fast before he goes out dousing or something."

"I'll make ya proud."

Garrett went to ruffle his hair, but Dexter caught his arm and shook his head. He then turned and spat on his shoes. "And that's what you get for gucking up my boots," he snickered.

"Get outta here, you rat," teased Garrett, shoving him out the doorway.

"See ya, ya filthy dog," Dexter called out behind him, already sneaking away to the graveyard.