FAGE 9: The Last Ride
Written for: Speklez
Written By: TheDarkestFallingStar
Summary: An Undercover cop and a notorious crime family, what could go wrong?
Prompt used: Mafia/Organized crime
Author Note: Uh, there will be violence and swearing… just a heads up lol
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The car came to a screeching halt along the gravel path as Peter slammed on the breaks angrily, his jaw clenched in fury as the events from Wild Things rung heavily in his mind. He let the bastard sit for a day while he did the things he needed to do and now he had all his attention to give to the fucking asshole who dared laid a hand on someone he had claimed.
She was a beauty beyond anything he had seen and no one else would touch her.
It also added the fact that the bastard broke one of his sister’s rules in her own god damn club. Thankfully she let him take the asshole away to deal with and oh… oh he will deal with the asshole.
“If you utter one fucking word more Randall, I’ll be adding another bullet wound to your leg.” Peter snarled viciously as he stormed past. “I’m not delaying this anymore.”
Randall jerked, his hands clenching as a shiver raced down his spine at his boss’s icy tone. It was not often he heard it, well no, he had heard it quite a lot in the past few years but it’s never been directed at him… but…
In a blink of an eye Peter had his gun out and aimed at Randall’s leg. “I warned ya Randall, I am in a very bad fuckin’ mood and that asshole in my basement is because of it. So you have ten seconds to tell me what is so bloody important for you to delay me ’cause right now I have an itchy finger.”
Swallowing hard Randall quickly began to explain. “We did a check; the man is Nahuel’s father. It seems he’s been stalking Nahuel and his sisters, has even threatened Huilen.”
Peter lowered the gun instantly, his rage doubling to the point the edges of his vision blacked. He knew Nahuel, he knew Huilen and that sweet woman didn’t need the asshole that effectively killed her sister coming around and harassing them once again.
“Who’s with him now? Has he been fed?” He demanded, placing the gun back in its holster before making his way to the house.
Randall sighed in relief. “Felix is with him, we gave him some water every couple of hours but no food.”
“Good,” Peter replied pleased.
The house he was at was near Cedar Falls, far enough away from any kind of civilization and only known by a few people. It was the place they brought people to… question… extensively. He had built it many years ago, a simple modest two story log cabin with a basement that was big enough to class as another story for the home.
But instead of it being the man cave he had intended it to be, it was now a holding cell. Right now there was only he, Felix and Randall at the location.
The second he stepped foot inside, his coat was removed, followed by his shirt leaving him in his jeans and wife beater. He wanted to terrify the man first and there was no better way to do that then to walk down as close to naked as he would feel comfortable with.
Tattoos marred his skin, the dark inks and twisted knots highlighted the scars he received in college and when he first started to take over his father’s duties. It was a rough three years after his father’s death, between his brother’s avoidance because of that midget and other gangs trying to take over the Whitlock territory he had acquired many names and many scars.
But it aided him in his work.
The stairs creaked as he made his descent down into the darkened basement; the only source of light was a flickering 40 watt bulb above the petrified and now sober asshole. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell of piss, fear and sweat.
“Why am I here? Release me!” the man demanded, fear lacing his tone as he struggled.
“Oh good, you still got some fight left in ya,” Peter chuckled darkly, stepping into the light and savouring the instant reaction of the man before him. He had never seen a man pale so fast. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
The petrified man shook his head no as he took in the new tormentor. He was lean and covered in tattoos and scars, his dark blonde hair was short but disarrayed… it was his eyes that struck fear into his heart. There may have been a smile on the new tormentor’s face but the violent storm that reflected in the man’s eyes was a warning.
Raising his brows Peter chuckled, leaning forward ever so slightly so his eyes were level with the fool’s. “No? Try to remember what happened the other night before you woke up in my lovely room here, go on…”
He didn’t know why he was here; the last thing he remembered was watching his bastard of a son and offering a waitress some extra money for a good night… realisation dawned on him as he jerked his head up to look the man in the eyes before. It was the same man that held the waitress so tenderly, so possessive.
“Ahh, there it is. Yes, there’s a rule in Wild Things and that’s no touching. Normally my sister would deal with you but you see, I happened to stake a claim on that waitress you harassed and I don’t like it when people touch what’s mine.” With a quick movement a blade was drawn. “Not only that, stalkin’? Ya not from round here are ya?”
Felix chuckled. “You best answer him, he’s not known for patience. You pissed off the wrong brother.”
“No,” he whimpered.
Nodding, Peter gestured with the knife, switching it from one hand to the other as he ran his eyes over the fool’s body for the spot he was looking for. “You see, Seattle is run by three mob families. The Pack, the Hunter’s— unfortunately —and the majority of it is run by Whitlock’s… can you guess what Territory you were in?”
The rage burned hot under Peter’s skin and in a blink of an eye the one inch blade was driven down into the soft muscle of the assholes leg, tearing a scream from his body. Felix held the man still while the knife was buried in the muscle which was good because Peter really didn’t want the guy to die just yet.
“I and my brother own this fucking place and you come up in my house with your bullshit, touch my girl, threaten one of my employees and stalk another? No, fuck you, you don’t get to do that.” Peter snarled before sending a harsh jab to the guys stomach, silencing the screams to a gasp. “This is my fucking playground and I don’t like new kids who don’t abide by the rules… no running, no biting and no pissing in the fucking sandbox.”
“I didn’t know… please…” He gasped out, his watering eyes peering up into the monster before him.
Peter laughed, gesturing to the guy while staring at Felix in disbelief. “He’s pleading, can you believe this. No sir, didn’t know or not, ya not getting’ away with your shit that easily.” His voice turned to ice as he jerked the asshole’s head back to stare at him. “I’m going to draw out your punishment, savour your screams and gather a few trophies.”
The man’s eyes seemed to pop open wider at the mention of trophies, his struggles beginning anew. Peter cackled gleefully as he instructed Felix to light the blow torch, a quick, sure way to heat the knife and cauterize the wounds.
He’d had to leave his warm bed and the chance for a home cooked breakfast; no, he was going to fucking enjoy every second of this. He held the blade under the torrent of fire until it glowed red, its heat brushing over his fingers as he held it out close to the man before him.
“I hope you had ya Come-ta-Jesus moment because you’ll probably be seein’ the devil mighty soon…” He chuckled darkly before driving the blade into the soft flesh of the man’s hip. “Tell the devil Pete says hi when you do.”
Author Note: *coos* I love it when The Captain comes out to play…