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Today wasn’t really a good day. Not for poor Sammy.

Sammy, to his credit, didn’t actually want to hurt the man they’d been sent after. True, he looked like any rich asshole CEO, complete with a custom made Italian suit, perfect hair and a smile like a used car salesman. That made him pretty unlikable. Until Sammy had finally put his finger on why those douche bag sunglasses looked so familiar in his picture.

Those weren’t glasses made to be seen through.

By the time Sammy had gotten into the car with his compatriots and headed down the road, all the pieces had snapped into place about just who the boss had sent them after this time.

They were kidnapping a fucking blind man. A blind man! Rich or not, the man was clearly a cripple. Maybe he inherited all that money for that look? They’d been informed that he was wealthy, and whatever they managed to dig out of his pockets when they snagged him was fair game. Hell, that suit was fair game as well, the boss, Trench, had been pretty clear he didn’t really intend on letting their catch keep any sort of clothing for too long.

Dismally, Sammy had to agree that the man was quite handsome. It stirred parts of him, but whatever crude and shriveled conscience Sammy had left informed him he should still sort of feel like a shithead for going after a blind man. Still, that half dead, mostly inoperable conscience did pretty much nothing to keep him from his lead foot habit, and the most he really did was take a slightly more scenic route to one of the hits favorite and highly habitual locations. The man seemed to thrive off patterns and repetition, and today was, apparently, no different than the day before today, and the day before that, and the day before that.

Midday, twelve o’clock noon on the spot, as he’d done for weeks and weeks before now, that fancy snot sauntered out of a high end cafe with an expensive coffee, an excitable little corgi bouncing along beside him. Oddly, no leash... But then, Sammy supposed, not all blind people needed service dogs, right? He had that stupidly ornate cane of his. Sammy immediately noted from the car he sat in across the street that the grasp seemed to be made of gold, and there was a murmur through the back on who was going to get that nice shiny little bauble. There was going to be a fight after they snagged him, that was for sure.

Once more, as the man had done day after day, he made a sharp left towards a quiet, mostly uninhabited park. Lots of forest to wander about in.

Must like the crinkle of the leaves, Sammy supposed quietly as the car was parked near the entrance to the park, and the small collection of men, four in total, filed out of the car. Just enough room for one more.

In the trunk.

Sammy himself stayed behind, someone had to be ready to gun it at a moments notice after all. He lit a cigarette and reclined in the car a bit, snagging the picture of their hit to study him a bit closer.

The man was tall, slender. Very fit, apparently, though there’d not been a single snapshot of the man with anything less than a full suit on. Not even jeans.

Fancy fucker, he remarked internally, trying to work up just a little more personal dislike of this character before he really got his hands on him. Just so he wouldn’t feel too bad doing what usually happened to people that interfered with Trench’s little pet project.

Long legs, all elegant and regal. Perfect slicked back hair. His skin seemed a touch off... What was the issue with it? Too gray? Maybe a bit on the yellow side... Probably wasn’t in the best health, but that wasn’t a surprise considering the state of his eyes. Maybe some congenital thing. Hope it was and not something communicable, as Sammy’s hand gently eased its way under his belt and into his pants.

He wondered what he sounded like. Was it an obnoxious, high pitched snotty upstarts voice? Or was he as slick as he looked? With a charming voice, something worth listening to. Listening to him talk, yell, beg, scream-

Probably not a good idea to make a mess in the car yet, he figured. The other guys would never shut up if he straight out jizzed his pants here before he ever laid a hand on the man. They really should have been back by now, honestly. How hard could it be to grab one single blind man in the woods? Not even a gunshot for that shitty little lap dog of his.

His cigarette was nearing its end too, and now he was appropriately horny and annoyed. Just as he went to stub out the cigarette, leaning down into the car a bit to do so, the last time he didn’t pay attention to what he was doing he set something on fire, the car door opened in the back, and then slammed shut.

“Finally, asshole. It’s been almost ten fucking minu-” Sammy lifted his head up to look in the rear view mirror, but the person who’d settled into the back, his expression sour and sharp, was not a single one of the men who’d wandered into the forest after the man.

No.

No that was the blind man himself, crossing his legs at the knee, that obnoxious dog comfortably seated next to him and staring at Sammy with the most fiery, orange and red stare he’d ever seen on a dog. Dog eyes shouldn’t be that color-

Any other words poor Sammy might have had for the man in the back died on his lips as the man leaned forward, tendrils of obscenely sweet, heady smoke curling from a mouth that was perhaps a touch too wide, the corners almost threatening to vanish under the dark glasses as the man- No the thing, bared a set of gleaming, jagged, needle like teeth in a feral famicile of a smile.

“Drive. Apparently, I have a date today.”

That voice. That smooth, smokey, spine chilling voice, like silk soaked in whiskey. Sammy’s foot hit the pedal, the pedal slammed to the floor, as the scent of opium filled his nostrils and slowly turned off his brain.

Drive.

We have a date.
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