The Colour Of Greed

Chapter 1. Message

A dark chilled cellar shielded three men from the crowded club above, one bloodied, beaten and tied to a metal chair in the centre of the room. The base shook all four walls like a marching army in the distance. Standing behind him was Darcy Monroe, a hulking mass of a man, he stood near seven-foot-tall and was pure muscle. In his right hand, he held a half bottle of whisky.

The other man was small compared to Darcy. His name was Georgie Fisher. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised, blood smeared over his white silk shirt.

"When the boss gets here, he's not going to be happy you haven't told us anything." Georgie whipped the blood from his hands on a nearby rag.

"Unhappy is putting it mildly." Darcy laughed as he took a swig from the bottle.

Georgie walked over to the young man. His shoes clapped against the cool concrete floor. He knelt down before him, blood dripped from the man's mouth to the floor.

"Tell us who you're working for and why they sent you. If you do The Boss might even go easy on you." Georgie knelt down upon the ground in front of this young man, trying to save his life. The young man tried to look into Georgie's eyes but was met with struggle. His left eye was sealed shut and his right wasn't much better. A faint smile crept over the man's face, complimented with a nod. This was it, hours upon hours finally paid off Georgie thought. As quick as a bullet the man lunged forward and struck Georgie with an all mighty headbutt. His nose made a noise like a cannon on an open field.

"YOU BASTARD!" He screamed while Darcy couldn't contain his laughter. His blood flooded all over the floor and his white silk shirt.

" You actually fell for that!" Darcy near keeled over, laughing in stitches.

"Thanks, Monroe. Really appreciate the support." Georgie stormed over to the table and snatched a rag from the table and smothered his nose.

"Well, what did you expect? You just beat the kid for the past few hours like a drum then suddenly you're nice to him and expect him to spill his guts?" He said still chuckling.

"I expected him to have some god damn common sense."

"He reminds me of a dog I knew." A man stood in the arch of the doorway. A lit cigarette in his mouth, wearing a slick fitted black suit and fine shoes. Short hair as black as night, a sharp jawline and trimmed beard. Gradually he made his way into the room. He took his cigarette in his left hand. "His owner was a sadistic and cruel man. He beat that dog on a whim most days. But still, he had its undying loyalty. It confused me as to how such a man could demand such loyalty from this mutt. Then one day it hit me. Loyalty through power and dominance. So simple, people have been doing it for thousands of years. But, men are not like dogs." He towered over the young man. His hand cupped his chin and lifted his head. "Most of us are deceitful, backstabbing liars. But not you. Most men would've given in by now. You, like that dog so long ago are loyal to the man who holds your leash. Aren't you boy?" The man's name was Alexander Lawrence, their Boss.

"Mr. Lawrence. We weren't expecting you for another forty-five minutes." Georgie walked over behind him.

"Finished off my errand sooner than expected." He turned around at removed Georgie's rage. His nose was busted, a tare across the bridge of his nose, blood continued to gush down. "Go get that checked out. Send me the bill."

"Yes, sir." Georgie covered his nose again and made his way up the stairs. Alexander sauntered over to the table at the other end of the room. He took up his suit jacket and he took a quick glance at his platinum watch, Two forty-seven was the time.

"Is this the part where you beat me? Torture me till I break?" The man roared through a mouthful of blood. But Alexander didn't flinch, didn't take notice of him. He put down his cigarette near his jacket.

"Darcy, leave the bottle and go get us him a glass from upstairs please." Alexander picked up the chair from the corner of the room and placed it in front of the man.

"Yes, sir." Darcy placed the bottle on the table and sauntered up to the loud smoke-filled club above.

"We both know I'm not going to say anything, so what are you waiting for? Get it over with!" The man looked down, his fate accepted, no second guesses, no regrets.

"I know. But you deserve a final drink. As a token of my respect for your conviction." Alexander sat back, His cold blue eyes locked on his. "what's your name kid?"

"Why should I tell you" He looked up, his neck started to tremble. Whether through fear or fatigue. Not even the kid knew.

"It's polite to know each other's name. Is it not?"

"And what makes you think I care about politeness now?"

"That's fair I suppose. I remember when I was about your age. My friend Malcolm and I had just stolen ten kilos of cocaine form the fifth street rebels, stole one of their cars and made our grand escape. They chased us for a few minutes when Malcolm after seeing a few too many action movies and cop shows." A great smile grew across his face with a chuckle. "He slammed on the breaks, one of the cars swerved into a hair salon and just broke apart. The other was a bit ahead of us. Malcolm turned to me and goes 'Don't worry. I've seen this done hundreds of time.' He's a terrible driver just so you know- "

"Sorry to interrupt sir. I got a glass for him and I also got one for you as well" Darcy walked over to the table and poured the whisky into the glasses and took them over to Alexander.

"Thank you, Darcy." He took both glasses in his hands and looked back at the young man. "Now, where was I?"

"Malcolm being a terrible driver I believe." Darcy lent on the wall to the left of them, arms crossed and listening in, eager to hear the story.

"Ah yes thank you. So, we end up driving over a bridge. At this point, the car is rattled with gunshots. I've taken one in the shoulder. Malcolm as optimistic as ever, grin on his face having the time of his bloody life. Then out of nowhere, he slammed into the other car ramming it off the bridge and into the frozen lake. Looked over to me and goes "well... that exactly how I thought it would." Both he and Darcy burst out with laughter, even the young man managed a smile. In one gulp Andrew engulfed his drink. He then raised the other glass to the mans cracked and bloodied lips. "as I said. You deserve this." The whisky passed his lips and down his throat.

"there we are. No need to drag this out any further." He got up and handed the glasses to Darcy and took out his gun from behind his back. Raised it and aimed at the man's head. With a tear in his eye, the young man looked down the barrel of the gun.

"You got guts kid. I'll give you that." With a squeeze of the trigger, the light from the man's eye was gone. "Idiot." Alexander put his gun behind his back. "Threw his life away over misplaced loyalty. Just like that stupid dog."

"Was that story true? About you and Malcolm."

"No." He walked to the table and put his jacket back on.

"What do you want done with the body?" Darcy cut the rope from his hands and feet.

"Send a message." He made his way to the door. "I want the entire city to see it."

Outside the night sky was lit by the full moon. Alexander stood next to his car in the dark, damp alley. A Black steel dodge viper. A vibration pulsed up his leg, it was his phone. Two missed calls from Malcolm. Alexanders longtime friend, more like a brother.

"Yes, Malcolm? What is it?"

"Got bad news, can you talk?" Malcolm's voice was deep and rough compared to Alexanders smooth tone

"Meet me at my apartment. I'll be there soon." He hung up, lit a cigarette and looked up at the moon. No thoughts, just taking a moment from his life. A few minutes of silence go by before letting out a sigh and tossing aside the cigarette. He opened the door of his car and got in, but for once there was no music playing. Just the roar of the engine. He looked at all the empty buildings passing him by and the rows of empty streets. One thought repeated in his mind, this is his. This is all his, and no one was going to take this away from him.