Summary: "I'm not cargo!" Johnny spat out, watching wearily as Briggs handed them the keys. Sweat beat on Mike's brow; where were the cops Briggs had promised? Had something messed up somewhere along the lines? What had gone wrong? What had gone so terribly wrong?
Disclaimer: It's a good thing I don't own poor Mikey.
By the author of "Under the Cover of Violence," I now bring you "Blood In, Blood Out."
Mike and Johnny sat – no, that wasn't an accurate statement. The white man and the Hispanic man were kneeling in the corner, both of their eyes flickering downwards, not even daring to look at the two men having a conversation. Paige and Charlie had been originally supposed to take this roll, but it had been decided it was too dangerous. Well, that, and Briggs had sweet-talked the man into taking a look at his "males for sale." Jake was listening in.
"They're well trained," the man said, standing up. He was older, he had white hair. He grabbed Mike, seeing the blood that dotted Mike's chin. Briggs, acting in character, had slapped Mike for something he said when they entered the parking lot. "I will say, you have something not many people do… young men. Young women I can get by the dozen. Some of my clients prefer younger men. They like a challenge." The man's eyes dotted up to Briggs'. "They like things legal."
Briggs smiled evenly at that. "You understand."
"Of course. This one seems to be a bit disobedient, though – unless you hit him just for fun?" The man, who Mike dubbed white hair, stood up.
"Oh, he just backtalked. Long day and I needed a target, you know?" Briggs said.
"What were you looking for each of them?" White Hair asked. Mike looked at Johnny, flinching and hiding his eyes.
"What are you offering?" Briggs asked with a smirk. He'd done his research, Mike knew, but he also knew to always let the buyer make the first deal.
"25 grand each," the man said. "Take a nice piece of meat like these to boys off your hand."
Briggs frowned. "Yeah, but I only get to profit once and you get to profit over and over again. So I'd like $27 grand each, not that much more."
Mike bit his tongue. $27 grand – the code word for the cops to come busting down. Anytime now and this would be over.
"How about $26,500?"
"Deal." Now that was the code word, for sure.
"I'm not cargo!" Johnny spat out, watching wearily as Briggs handed them the keys. Sweat beat on Mike's brow; where were the cops Briggs had promised? Had something messed up somewhere along the lines? What had gone wrong? What had gone so terribly wrong?
Next thing he knew, he was chained and brought to the wall. "Take them to the prep room, boys," White Hair said. Mike and Johnny glanced at each other. There cover was they did not know each other which was fine because they really didn't know each other for that well yet. But this was unsettling.
"They were led to the prep room, were they were kept handcuffed and forced to the floor. White Hair turned to another man. Mike couldn't help but notice all the people with guns. And all the girls. There were about 20 girls, in similar positions to him and Johnny, and there were about 4 gunmen plus Johnny and Mike.
Mike remained quiet. It had been decided that Mike and Johnny would not have recording or tracking devices, but that the money would. If, for some reason, the bust went south, they figured the salves would be likely to be kept with the money and thus they would be able to track down Mike and Johnny without any real harm. Levi was the name Mike had opted to use, well Johnny opted to use his first name. their lat names wouldn't matter.
Mike's unease grew as the truck rattled. Seriously, what the hell was going on here? His stomach clenched and e tried to remain peaceful. Another girl sobbed in the corner. They were forced to lean back against the side wall, and Johnny looked at Mike before looking down at the floor. The look said everything that Mike already needed to know – they were screwed.
"The money is loaded in the truck," another man said as e came into the room.
"Good. Get these slaves loaded up. Okay, everyone, single file," he said, "One after another." With that, they were lead to another place. Mike risked a quick look around. Where was rescue? Where were the cop cars? Dammit, what the fuck had happened? He and Johnny were lead out into the van. Mike backed away when he saw the boxes.
"No, no, fuck no," he said with a shake of his head. The girls were already getting in the crates. Johnny followed. White Hair didn't even try and argue with Mike; he just grabbed Mike by his arm and shoved him against the semi, slamming him into side of the door. Then he slammed the door shut and said, "Pretty boy comes with me."
Mike looked up. He and Johnny were getting separated? Oh shit – this was all fucking going to hell.
"Dammit Paige! Where the hell were the cops!?" Briggs asked once he was a safe distance away. "I gave the fucking code word like ten times!"
"…Cops?" Paige asked, and Briggs wanted to pound her. "What cops?"
"Dammit, Paige for the bust today. You know, where we said you'd have those cops?!"
"That was for tomorrow," Paige said, and Brigg's blood froze.
"No, it wasn't. I explicitly called you this morning and told you it was time, and you told me you would. Get a track on the money and see what's up - I'm calling this in. Meet me at the house in 20."
Oh dear, whatever will happen of our boys now?
Challenge: What torture do you think will happen to Johnny and Mike?
I will write more tomorrow when my left arm isn't broken/bruised/whatever.