There had been many times where I fucked around and found out, but who knew the mob was serious about not being stolen from? Not me. Though, in reality, I probably should have seen this coming.

I was doing a job for a friend, killing some bad guys, doing my thing, maybe snagging like twenty dollars from this mysterious money bag in a marks apartment. Okay, maybe more like twenty thousand dollars.. I didn’t know it was mob money!

Next thing I know I had killed a bunch of mob rats and stolen a bunch of money from probably the most organized crime party in the city. Sweet. I was just minding my business, chilling home alone with a bottle of beer watching rom coms, before I’m knocked over the head with the butt of a gun. Rude, by the way, but it knocked me out all the same. After a little bit of a struggle. I relished in the thought I probably sent one or more of those guys who came to get me to a hospital.

*Still, it wasn’t ideal that I was waking up with a killer headache in an unidentifiable room tied to a radiator. Cute. Real cute. And damn that metal was warm, not to mention the lingering taste of metal in my mouth. Must have bit my tongue. Maybe that’s why it hurt. *

I looked around, trying to figure out where I was, but there were no windows, no furniture, no decorations, just a janky yellowed lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and an inconspicuous red stain on the cold hard floor of the concrete. Shit.

I quickly spotted someone sat on the other side of the room in a chair, it was so dim in the room I almost didn’t see them, but that might also be the concussion.

“Heyyy.. funny thing about this, I have a date later tonight and-“ I paused when a gun was pointed at my head, tensing a little but showing a wry smile.

“Right.. not one for conversation. Okay, I can respect that.” I muttered indignantly, trying to find a way out of this.