[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/BzTNXgP.jpg[/img]
[h2][b] ♠ Andy DiMaggio ♠ [/b][/h2]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANGWy_b_ovY[/youtube][/center]
[indent]This was bullshit.

What the hell was I doing here anyway?

Oh right. Work.

Standing here with a man's blood dripping off my hands.

Not like they didn't deserve it, Christ.

We were here on a job. Nyctari business. Didn't matter to us what the motivation was, what mattered was that we were gettin' paid.

They told us that a couple 'a Rats down in Red Lights were causin' some trouble in one of their flesh dens. Bunch a hokey, low down asswipes givin' the workin' girls a hard time. The vamps had heard of how we'd taken down the Hunters almost by ourselves and I guess they wanted a bit of the action. Not long after the two of us set up our little private work agency, calls started comin' from all over. Nyte Kings, Nyctari, anonymous work, hell even Bloodbloom herself wanted us for a job or two. Three years I spent, hirin' guys from all around that were lookin' for work. Kiddo handled the jobs. Put 'em in little folders, organised 'em on a board; who wanted what done, in which part a' town, that sorta thing. Built this little gig up and soon we had guys doin' jobs all around the city. Haulin' freight, writin' obits or some other dirty job.

Today was no different. Hands down 'n dirty 'n bloody.

I pulled my fist from the crumpled face of the Rat in front of me. Young guy, couldn't have been more than twenty five. Poor guy. What did you do to end up on the hit list of the biggest blood suckers in Santa Somabra, hmm? You and your friends went and crashed one of their joints, peddled your shit and harassed the ladies. That earned you a big bullseye on your back. Nothin' personal.

For us tough guys, the "dumb muscle", we didn't care about the specifics. We got paid to solve shit that the aristocrats and rich kids didn't want to get their hands dirty doin'. Didn't give a rat's ass about the who or why or how. Just did what they paid us to do. 'N today, they were paying a lot to get this problem out of their hair. What was strange was how they'd wanted it done. Fists only? Who did that any more? And they also wanted us, like [b]us[/b] us. Me 'n Kiddo. I didn't pay it much mind anyway, hadn't gotten my hands dirty in a while.

I wiped my brass knuckles on the corpse's shirt and stood. The skin shop was a mess. Broken glass everywhere. Tables overturned. Corpses all over the place. Resistance had been big at first. These idiots ran guns from one end of the city to the other, no surprise they were packing heat. Handling them according to the contract was...difficult, but we got it done. By the end of it the girls were safe and the Rats were running or dead. Job well done.

Kiddo got out from the back room, wipin' his hands with a cloth.

[i][color=lightgreen]"All done, Andy. Nothin' left standin'."[/color][/i]

[i]"And the girls?"[/i]

[i][color=lightgreen]"Safe 'n sound in the back. Nothin's gonna get 'em."[/color][/i]

[i]"Alright. I'll give the client a call, give 'em the good news. See if there's anyone left alive 'n end 'em."[/i]

I stepped outside to get some fresh air. Fuckin' A, place smelled like death, and it wasn't 'cause of us neither. Few taps on my phone got me a ringin', and after a while the person on the other end picked up.

[i]"Yo, it's me. Job's done. No Rats gonna mess with your girls again."[/i]

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