Taking Matt Whitteker Down

Murphy

"He's a ghost living in a ghost town. How do you suppose you can find him?"

"That's for me to figure out."

//

What now?

Mr. Whitteker growled. His eyes leaving her to focus on Murphy.
:what do you think you're doing? You're holding your gun at a government official.

:I'm long overdue for setting things right. Murphy answered simply.
:just because we put your face on the poster. Doesn't mean you own the show.

:the hell are you talking about? Put your fu*king gun down! Matty call Frank.

:don't move a muscle Matty!
Murphy yelled back. Spitting out the nickname.

:You don't seem to understand!
Murphy held the mayor's attention.
:it's over.

It didn't take long.
Rosy cheeks puffed, mr. Whitteker began to chuckle.
Katrina inched back towards Murphy who was also puzzled by the mayor's sudden mirth.

The mayor's own son mirrored the confusion, the threat to their life felt far too real to find humorous. He tried to catch Nick's attention.

:And to think when I met you, you were a dead beat addict willing to sell your soul for a line.
I saved you!

That was the response the mayor's intoxicated mind had come up with. Not his smartest move Katrina thought.
Even if she only knows him for a little while, she could tell how bad-tempered Murphy is.

Maybe the mayor knows him better. Maybe he's drunk and stupid. Maybe she picked the wrong side.

Katrina snuck a look back, wanting to gauge Murphy's reaction. He was grinning now.
Sh*t. She knew nothing.

:I'm a renewed man. Look at it this way. I finally leveled up to my full potential.

Nick was shaking.
Katrina moved the gun towards his supposedly best buddy. She can at least point it at Matt without that sinking feeling. Which side are you on? She wanted to ask but Nick wasn't looking at anyone or anything.

She also wanted to deck someone but that was about the extent of it. A guy is dying by the door. The mayor laughing and she standing by Murphy.
Where the hell is this night taking them?

:Now that you understand what my problem is. I say you have about two options.

Murphy had proposed. Signaling two fingers.

:first option, you go meet your friends downtown. Send them my best regards.

Murphy's eyes skimmed over the package sprawled on the table. Not only did the fathead mayor disclosed his men's posts, he also tampered wih his product, screwed up his sales, stole from him, the list goes on and on. He's been suspecting it for a while. The girl had to do one thing to make it all clear to him.

:I realize I squeezed you into a corner with all of this. But see. I don't enjoy people scheming behind my back. And I certainly don't like it when they steal from me.

It wasn't practically stealing Mr. Whitteker wanted to protest. He made a more profitable deal. With the enemy no less. But let's not be too specific about it.
Taking his time to ponder. He was keenly aware that the circumstances sobered him up good.
:what's my other option?

Murphy didn't take long to answer.
:you die.

:It's a one option then. I'm dead either way.